The Melaki Chronicle (16 page)

His heart thumped so hard it brought him up short.

That is not my heart.

No, something was beating against his back. It was steady,
and felt of its own source of evil.

He spun, limbs trembling in excitement. The cabinet. Yes!

He gripped the two handles and yanked. Instead of clothing,
the black velvet-lined cabinet held a stand of gold. On that stand pulsed a
deep black gem that sent dim flashes of deep violet outward.

He felt something, a shift in magic.

This was his way out and he knew he had triggered something
in the magic around him, Mokura's magic when he opened the cabinet. He would
have to be fast. He would have to be forceful. The floor under him was marble.

He felt her stirring, faster, her magic gathering.

He gripped the gem and ripped it from its stand. Agony ran
up his arms. He formed a force pattern backwards in his mind, fighting the
pain, fighting the lack of time. He screamed as the pain threatened to rip his
body into shreds. His heart came to a stop, being squeezed painfully in his
chest. He could no longer breathe.

Raising the gem high overhead, he spun to face the doorway.
The pattern was done. Mokura was there, eyes blazing, racing into the room.
Spots swam before his eyes. He threw a fast, normal pattern of magic shield and
hurled the gem to the marble floor. He applied the force pattern to the gem's
descent. He had the briefest instant where he hoped his shield gave him enough
time to destroy the gem.

Mokura's hands shot out and his shield was swept aside
faster than the finest silk. Her magic followed faster than he could see. Her
shriek of rage was potent and full of its own power.

The gem, pushed faster by force, hit the marble floor. An
explosion so violent he was thrown through the air had him wondering whether it
was her magic or the gem.

I spend more time in the air against other wizards than
fighting them...

Blackness stopped all thought.

Melaki groaned.

Voices were all around him.

He peeked open an eye to see Roke's ugly face. It was keen
with knowledge. The imperial officer in charge of the forces in Dramlos was
there above him, too. His face was bright with victory.

“What?” he croaked.

“You did it.” Roke sounded as if he disbelieved it.

“Is the lich dead?”

Roke nodded.

“Luck was with me.”

Roke stared into his eyes, saying nothing. He was tapping
his dagger against Melaki's pack.

He sighed deeply, relishing the breaths he could take.
Placing a hand to his chest, he felt his heart beating.

My heads sure hurts as if all the demons of hell danced
in it.

The imperial officer was beaming. “You are a hero of the
empire.”

No, I do not think so.

Roke's look confirmed his suspicions. “I believe you said
you were going to Iberia?”

Melaki tried to sit up. He gasped in pain. His whole body
felt bruised. “Yes, I do desire to go to Iberia.”

Roke tilted his head as if considering his orders.
Apparently finding none that fit this situation, he nodded. “Then you shall
go.”

Having finally managed to sit up, Melaki glanced around.
Scrolls were blown everywhere. The book was gone.

Roke noticed his glance and his grip on the dagger firmed.

Melaki glared at him. “Roke, do not do something you will
not live to regret.”

“Perhaps Iberia is indeed the best solution for you.”

The imperial officer looked quizzically back and forth
between the two. Sensing that Roke had been about to do something bad to his
hero, he growled. “I believe I will take this man into custody and see him onto
an imperial ship to Iberia.”

Soldiers who were poking about in the chamber and grinning
at Melaki suddenly went stone-faced and drew swords.

Roke stood. “There you go, wizard, Marshal Stakar has
spoken. I am rinsed of responsibility.” He slid his dagger back into its
sheath.

The imperial officer, or rather Marshal Stakar, leaned down
and gave him a wink. “Do not worry, wizard. We will see you safely to where you
want to go.”

“My thanks to you.”

The marshal laughed. “Oh no, we owe our thanks to you.”

*  *  *

The ocean breeze whisked cleanly over his face. The Iberian
mainland was ahead.

At least I have not had one of those visions again.

The captain of the boat said, “What is a wizard like you
going to do there?”

Before he could answer, the feelings of a vision hit him.
Harder, but not as hard. Deeper than ever before, but not as consuming.

“Be at ease.”

In his mind. A blinding light overwhelmed him.

“Be at peace. Be at rest. I have seen what you have done.
You have found My favor.”

The vision left him suddenly, his ears popping from the
pressure. He was gripping the rail, trembling. He saw there, distant, a
lighthouse.

“I do not know, captain.” Melaki gazed at the lonely
lighthouse. “I will study. Perhaps I will operate a lighthouse during my
studies.”

Yes, a lighthouse.