Vicious Magick (2 page)

Three players? Our hero, his silent
benefactor, and a hormonal queen, that makes three. But there’s a
fourth. This fourth instrumentalist differs from the others in two
key ways: firstly, he doesn’t know the others yet, and secondly, he
does, in fact, play an instrument.

Varello is greasy, with stringy hair and a
pointed hat. His instrument of choice is his enchanted six-stringed
lute. He sits on a large rock outside the house, bathed in the
white light of the partially-illuminated moons. He plucks a few
strings, tuning to some internal standard pitch.

Deliberately, thoughtfully, he strums chords,
humming a melody he’s hummed any number of times. His audience is a
black-haired woman sleeping next to her blacksmith husband. The
husband, like most people, is sleeping at this hour. The woman is
sleeping as well, but this doesn’t stop her from rising out of bed
and tiptoeing, eyes closed, out the door and onto the lawn.

As Varello plays, she disrobes in front of
him. Only when he finishes his song do her eyes open. Panicked, she
scrambles to dress herself. In this urgency, her eyes dart this
way, that way, but she’s all alone.

Zanther feels a tug at the back of his shirt,
and turns around to see a sultry brunette wearing a silky dress and
no shoes. Her breath is clouded with alcohol.

“I saw you back there, you were great,” she
says, her eyes glowing with youth and sexual tension.

“Uh…thanks.”

“Listen, your name’s Zanther, right? That’s
what the bartender said. I’d like to…take you somewhere, if you’re
interested.”

“The thing is, lady, I’m not really looking
for that right now.”

“Oh, you’ll regret this. You’ve no idea.”

And Madra storms off into the shadows.
Looking down, Zanther can already feel himself regretting it.

“You don’t understand,” he says, to nobody in
particular, “it’s just not
safe
to be around me.”

“You don’t have any idea who that girl was,
do you?” says a voice from the rooftop. Zanther looks up to see a
figure clad in black.

“Probably some farmer’s daughter. They smell
blood and their hormones kick up. I’ve got enough on my plate right
now without throwing women into the mix. Also, not to be rude or
anything, but who in the High Hell are you?”

The figure falls from the roof, landing
gracefully in front of Zanther with a minimum of bruising.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, I am
Novanostrum Singularis, Maximagus of the Third Circle.”

“You have a very long name.”

Varello sits in a small clearing by the
river, strumming a few chords as blocks of wood assemble themselves
in front of him and burst into a campfire. A fish dances
frantically in the water, flopping onto the shore and into the
flame, crackling and bubbling. After its skin achieves a palatable
shade of black, Varello snatches it out of the fire and tears into
it, blood and saliva dripping from his lips.

Maybe ten yards away, two soldiers with
x-shaped insignias on their helmets are interrogating a blindfolded
drunk.

“Priester! We traced it to you. We know you
had it, so just tell us where it is now and we’ll let you be on
your way.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you very well.
Please speak louder.”

One of the soldiers grabs his pinky, twisting
it until it breaks. “Where is it?!”

“I…don’t have it. I lost it in a card game to
some guy. Zinter? Zander? I don’t remember his name exactly.”

“Where?” says one of the soldiers, the tip of
his spear nudging the drunk’s throat.

“Claustria!”

“Enough!” Varello shouts, wiping his greasy
hands on the cape of the closest soldier. “Cut him loose. I’ll make
for Claustria while you report back to your commander. We’ll need
troops, especially if the Queen gets word of this.”

“We’ll ask the commander to send men to
Claustria as you request, but this one shall not be set free. The
Pontiflex Minor has given us orders to expale traitors of the
Church.”

It’s not much later when a scream tears
through the silence of the mesa, causing a flock of sheep to turn
their heads at the direction of the noise. They panick for a
moment, then follow the lead of the head ram, who has already
fallen back asleep.

Madra kicks open the doors to her spacious
chamber and the Chief Guard appears in the corridor.

“Is something wrong, my queen?”

“I need you to assemble the Guardsmen and
locate a man named Zanther Maus. I’m told he murdered some
foreigners at the tavern. He needs to be brought to justice.”

“We shall collect him directly, highness,” he
says, bowing and retreating down the corridor.

“So, Zanther, why were those men trying to
kill you?”

“They want this,” he says, producing a
tattered map.

“What’s it lead to?”

“Don’t know. I won it in a card game. The guy
who gave it to me, this drunken priester, said it shows where some
drawing is hidden, some famous piece of artwork. ‘Nexus’ something.
‘Nexus Sketch,’ maybe? Supposed to be worth a lot of money, if you
buy into that.”

Novanostrum lights his pipe as they walk
toward the city gates.

“Hey, wizard, what do you want, anyway? What
I told the girl, that goes double for you, so don’t get any
ideas.”

“Actually, I’m also interested in that map
you have. I was hoping to accompany you to

retrieve the object in question.”

“Yeah, wizard? And why should I trust
you?”

“How do you think you were able to kill those
men in the bar? Felt like you had a little
help
, didn’t it?
Time dilation is a marvelous thing. And those assassins, they were
just the beginning. There’s a host of terrible things waiting for
you down that road, and you’ll need my assistance.”

“S’pose you’re right. Yeah, I guess. What do
you say we meet up here in the morning and get out of this wretched
place?”