The Wizard Heir (37 page)

Seph had made an impression, just the same. As far as
the alumni were concerned, Leicester's harmless “construct” had just
spewed flame clear across the hall. Pushing and shoving, they fled toward the
back of the room.

If wizard fire made no impression, perhaps something
else would. An enormous candelabra hung from the ceiling at the front of the
room. Seph flamed the cable, focusing white-hot heat on the metal fittings. It
finally parted, sending the fixture crashing to the floor. Leicester just
managed to sidestep out of the way.

The flames in the sconces along the walls flared up
and ran across the ceiling, charring the ceiling beams. Next, Seph collected
armloads of air, hardened it, and smashed through the gallery windows. Shards
of glass pinged on the stone floor. The roar of the storm was suddenly
amplified, and rain poured down on them.

The Dragon spoke again. “Leicester's wizard
slaves! It is time to reclaim what has been stolen from you. You are more
powerful than any wizard, if you work together, as you have been taught. You
believe you are owned by another, but you belong to me, before all else!”

Seph wasn't so sure that was true, but it was enough
to enrage Leicester. He screamed at the cowering alumni. “This is
wizardry, you idiots! It's a wizard behind all of this! I'll show you.”
Spinning, he thrust forward the staff. Flame gouted from the crystalline tip
and slammed into Hastings, throwing him backward onto the stone floor, where he
lay still, his clothes smoldering.

There was a dead silence, save the shriek of the wind
and clatter of the rain.

Linda knelt next to Hastings and cradled his head in
her lap.

Leicester turned to look at the dragon. It hung over
them mournfully for a long moment, wingtips drooping a little, then reared up,
drawing its lips back to reveal stalactite-size teeth.

Flame gushed forth, enveloping Leicester. The hot
breath of the dragon extended to the far end of the hall, blackening the walnut
paneling around the doorway and setting the papers on the conference table
aflame. Smoke and confusion filled the chamber. People were screaming, shouting
orders, demanding to be released.

But when the flames died away, Leicester was still on
his feet, though noticeably singed and unsettled.

“Cut us loose before we're incinerated where we
sit!” Wylie demanded from the sidelines. “This is obviously not
Hastings's work unless the man can conjure from the grave.”

Now Leicester focused his attention on the dragon,
extending the staff, sending bolt after bolt of wizard fire into the beast. The
dragon remained unharmed, but the wall of the conference room began to
disintegrate under the assault. Seph ducked back into the butler's pantry to
avoid falling masonry. The huge stone fireplace was reduced to heaps of rubble
and he could see into the corridors beyond the conference room.

Seph looked for other targets. Claude D'Orsay had
taken cover when the fireworks started. Sedgwick and Whitehead were nowhere to
be seen.

Seph slammed his fist against the wall in frustration
and pain. His father lay dead on the conference room floor. He and Jason were
taking the winery apart, but it would do no good if they couldn't take down
Leicester. Sooner or later, the headmaster would figure out what was going on
and nail them. The only thing he could think of was to go after the alumni, try
and pick them off one by one, diminishing Leicester's power.

But he knew that at least some, if not all, of the
alumni were unwilling participants in Leicester's schemes. He thought of
nervous Peter Conroy with his inhaler and Martin Hall, the principled
viniculturist. Wayne Eggars, the physician, and little Ashton Rice, the music
teacher. He forced himself to make a list in his mind, putting them in priority
order. Barber would be first, of course, but he was out in the garden. Then
Bruce Hays, who'd seemed to enjoy torturing Ellen and the others.

All the while, he maintained a constant assault on
Gregory Leicester, keeping him and the others occupied, directing his fire to
make it appear it was coming from Jason's dragon. Cautiously, he leaned out
from his hiding place, looking for Bruce Hays, and was met with a blast of
wizard fire that he only just turned by throwing up a shield and ducking back
into hiding.

“Ah,” said Leicester, sounding relieved.
“I think we've discovered the guilty party.”

Seph retreated into the butler's pantry, desperately
trying to conceive of a plan. And backed into somebody who grabbed him around
the waist.

“Witch Boy! Sounds like all hell's broken loose.
Why didn't you come get me?”

It was Madison.

Seph didn't waste words. “Doors were blocked. And
now I've been spotted.”

Leicester continued his assault on his hiding place.
Seph shoved Madison up against the wall and covered her body with his as
masonry pelted him on the head and shoulders. A large chunk smashed into his
right elbow with stunning force, and his arm went numb. “Look, you'd
better get out of here. You might be resistant to wizardry, but if a wall falls
on you, you're dead.”

She shook her head. Bits of debris were caught in her
hair, and her face was powdered with plaster dust. “No. We have to work
the plan.”

“Right. Like that's possible.”

Seph moved cautiously forward with Madison just behind
him. Just as he reached the entrance into the hall, Leicester called out to
him.

“Joseph! Stop this foolishness and come out. Your
mother wishes to speak with you.”

Throwing up a shield, Seph stepped into the doorway and
looked out into the conference room.

Leicester stood amid the ruins, one arm around Linda
Downey, the other gripping her by the throat. “Surrender and I'll let her
live.”

Seph hesitated, glancing back at Madison. “You'll
set her free?”

Leicester smiled, showing his teeth. “Of course.
I have no quarrel with enchanters.”

Linda screamed, “Seph! Don't you dare!”
before Leicester silenced her.

“What about her?” Seph pointed over his
shoulder at Madison, who was shaking her head. “You'll leave my friend
alone, too?”

If Leicester was surprised to see Madison, he didn't
show it. “You have my word on it.”

“All right.” Seph stepped from the pantry,
and taking a deep breath, he dropped his shield.

Leicester waited until he was clear of the doorway.
Still using Linda as a shield, he raised the staff. A cataract of flame
streaked toward Seph, an attack that should have reduced him to cinders. In
what was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, Seph stepped behind
Madison Moss, allowing her to take the full brunt of the assault.

Seph watched Leicester. At first, the wizard smiled,
eyes glittering, smug and triumphant. Then his face changed as doubt and then
horror crept in. He staggered backward, hands still extended, bound to Madison
by the force of the charm. He struggled to free himself, to let go of the
staff, twisting and turning as power flowed from the alumni into him, then out
of his body and into Madison.

All around the room, the alumni staggered and fell as
they were drained, much the way Seph had collapsed that day on the beach. Then
Leicester went down on his back, shaking violently, eyes wide, throwing off
sparks like a broken power line. The link with the alumni was broken. Seph
circled Madison and charged toward him.

But Jason was quicker. He vaulted over the railing of
the gallery, hung a moment, then dropped to the floor next to Leicester.
Kneeling next to the wizard's thrashing body, he reached for him, but Seph
yanked him back.

“Don't touch him directly unless you want to be
wrung out yourself.”

Glancing around for a weapon, Jason bent and gripped a
huge chunk of stone that had fallen from the fireplace. Between the two of
them, Jason and Seph managed to lift it.

They smashed the stone down on Leicester's head. His
heels drummed on the pavement for a long minute, and then he went still.

“That's for my father, John Haley,” Jason
gasped.

“And for my father, Leander Hastings, and
for Trevor Hill, and for every alumnus of the Havens, gifted or not,” Seph
added. He turned his face away and shuddered. Jason sank to the floor amid the
rubble and put his face in his hands.

Seph knew he should finish what he'd started, that he
should determine the intentions of the alumni, find Claude D'Orsay, and do
something about Warren Barber in the garden. But he did none of those things.

He felt too weary to take another step, but he forced
himself to stagger across the room to where Madison stood braced against the
wall, eyes wide, fists clenched, as if in shock. He was covered with blood, his
elbow was swollen and misshapen where it had been hit by falling debris. He
pulled her close. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest, her
quick, shallow breaths.

He kept saying, “It's all right,” and
“I'm sorry,” over and over. Then she was sobbing into his shoulder
and he was patting her back, making little circles with his hand.

Finally, he pulled away and took her hand, leading her
over to where his mother cradled his father in her arms. He knelt next to her,
full of regret, but empty of words to express it.

She greeted him with a brilliant smile, though tears
ran down her face. “You're alive!” she said, shifting Hastings so she
could grip Seph's hand.

Seph blinked back his own tears. “Mother,”
he said, the word large and awkward in his mouth. Then his voice broke.
“I'm sorry,” he said huskily.

But she was still smiling, rather damply. “When I
said you were alive, I meant both of you.”

It was impossible. Leaning forward, Seph looked down
at his father and reached out and touched his cheek. It was warm, suffused with
blood. Hastings frowned and shifted away, groaning. His eyelids fluttered, then
opened, focused on his face.

Seph shook his head, still unable to believe it.
“I don't get it. Leicester blasted you. No one could have survived
that.” He reached out and touched the collar around his father's neck.
“Not in the shape you were in.”

“It was Martin Hall.” Hastings's voice was a
hoarse whisper. “He removed the collar and reversed the charm before we
came into the hall.” He paused, took a breath. “I was still weak, but
I'd managed to throw up a shield. I expected he might attack your mother or
me.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement.
“I must say, I was surprised when the dragon came to call. I had no idea
where Jason was going with that.” He struggled to sit upright, with
Linda's help. “Aren't you supposed to be in Trinity?”

Jason spoke from behind him. “Dude ain't so easy
to bully anymore. Some fool's been training him in wizardry.”

Seph turned to look at him, and Jason managed a
creditable courtly bow. “It's been my dream to meet the Dragon,” he
said, grinning at Linda. “But somehow, I always pictured him as a wizard
with a long, gray beard. I think I like this better.”

With the death of Leicester, a number of spells were
broken. The immobilization charms dissolved, and the Interguild representatives
and the Wizard Council collected into two distinct groups that eyed each other
warily. Some organized themselves into an impromptu fire brigade and began
putting out the fires that still smoldered throughout the room.

Ellen retrieved Leicester's staff and held it close by
her side. Jack produced a wicked-looking knife from somewhere and was very
obviously honing it against a stone pillar.

Nick Snowbeard came to look after Hastings, and Seph
immediately felt more confident.

Madison still seemed to be in shock, a ghost with
watercolor eyes, shivering and teeth chattering. Seph sat her down in one of
the chairs by the conference table, wishing he knew what to do for her.

Wylie and Longbranch broke away from the rest of the
Council and came toward them. “Where is D'Orsay?” they demanded,
glaring at Seph.

Good question. “How should I know?” Seph
replied. “I've been kind of busy.”

“The constitution is missing, too. If he manages
to get it to Raven's Ghyll, it will be a disaster.” Wylie looked as if
this were somehow Seph's fault.

“Then you'd better go after him, don't you
think?” Seph said. “Maybe you can catch him at the dock.”

“First we'll deal with his associates,”
Longbranch said.

The council conspirators were nowhere to be seen, but
the alumni still lay where they'd fallen, as helpless as Seph had been on the
beach. But they were alive, at least. Their link with Leicester had been broken
when Maddie drained his power away.

Before Seph knew what she was about, Longbranch strode
over to Ashton Rice, knelt, and shoved her fingers under his chin.

“Hey!” Seph gripped the wizard's wrist with
his good hand and wrenched it away. “What do you think you're doing?”

She looked up at him in surprise and annoyance.
“These young men are collaborators. Allies of D'Orsay and Leicester. Best
to destroy them while we can.”

“I wouldn't call them allies, exactly,” Seph
said. “More like victims, most of them.”

“Don't you understand what's happening?”
Longbranch spoke as one might to the mentally impaired. “This is war. The
truce between wizards is over. Which side are you on?”

Suddenly Jack and Ellen flanked him. Jason and Madison
drifted in from behind.

“I'm not on your side. Or D'Orsay's. You're going
to have to have your war without me,” Seph said.

“We'll see,” Longbranch said. She extended
her hand, and he took a step back, out of range of those long, red nails.
“You're powerful, I'll give you that. You take after your father in that
regard. You're going to have to decide whether to follow after him in other
ways.”

She looked over at Madison, studying her as if she
were an especially interesting specimen. “What's your girl's name?”
she asked, toying with a large emerald that hung from a chain around her neck.