The Mercantile Reaver - 1

So...I had some serious writers block this week. Here is the beginning of a story about Vikings instead of the usual continuation of Choose Your Own Misadventure.

A loud crash alerted Aryk Harlgrimmson to the fact that his front door had been kicked in. Drunken Ulf, nearly as wide as he was tall, filled the now empty doorframe as he bellowed, “By the blood of my father, I’ll know what makes that scrawny bitch of yours so damn special before the sun rises!”

Aryk muttered a curse under his breath. Any Reaver could challenge another man for one of his women, but the fight had to be with fists alone and never to the death – Reavers knew no woman was worth dying for. Unfortunately for Aryk, as the youngest Captain in living memory, he was often targeted by the older men of the clan who thought to put him in his place by taking the only woman he had claimed for his own. Doubly unfortunate was the fact that while Aryk was a demon with a spear, deadly with his knives, and considered quite skilled with an axe, he was tall and lean, his battle prowess derived from his skill and speed rather than brute strength. That put him at a definite disadvantage in these late night brawls over Maxine.

Vaulting over his gold inlaid dinner table, Aryk crashed boney elbows first into Ulf’s fat stomach. Ulf grunted and doubled over, grabbing Aryk by the collar as he did, and hurling him across the room to slam into a cabinet full of silver spoons. The hand carved cabinet shattered and silver and splinters rained down on Aryk.

Aryk jumped to his feet and used his superior reach to punch Ulf in the nose three times in rapid succession. Ulf bellowed with rage and dove at Aryk. He managed to dodge Ulf’s tackle and Aryk took the opportunity Ulf presented lying prone on his floor to kick him in the ear.

Ulf rumbled to his feet and threw himself at Aryk anew. Aryk dodged Ulf’s meaty paws as he threw punches, but his kitchen was not a large room and soon enough he was cornered. Ulf finally landed a punch that lifted Aryk off his feet and sent him flying into a marble statue of some foreign god. The statue broke just as surely as Aryk’s nose. Aryk threw punches back at Ulf, but the seasoned Reaver was so fat, muscular, and drunk that he hardly felt them. Meanwhile, Ulf’s giant fists found Aryk’s ribs, shoulders, and stomach. Aryk spit out some blood and did his best to strategize his next move.

A dull thunk sounded behind Ulf and the big Reaver’s eyes glazed over. He cascaded sideways just like a spring avalanche to reveal Maxine standing behind him with her favorite iron frying pan in both hands. She held it menacingly, ready to wallop Ulf again if he rose.

Aryk frowned. “You aren’t allowed to do that.”

Maxine shrugged. “I’d have just killed him and come back to you for protection when you lost. This way your clan doesn’t lose one of its precious Reavers over a woman.” Her voice practically oozed the dry wit she favored.

“A fair point,” Aryk admitted. He grabbed Ulf’s wrists while Maxine took his ankles and they dragged him out into the snow. Then Aryk propped the door in place before going to get his tools to fix it. Luckily, Ulf had kicked it in so the hinges gave way rather than shattering the door.

“Can I get you a drink? You must be parched after the beating Ulf gave you?” Maxine reached for the fancy pillaged bottle that had been refilled with strong Reaver whiskey.

Aryk chuckled as he replaced the hinges to his front door. “I can count the phases of the moon as well as you, my dear. Gone are the days when you need to get me hopelessly drunk to keep me from getting a son in your belly.”

Maxine leveled a considering look at him. “How long have you had that little trick figured out?”

Laughing, Aryk couldn’t help but shake his head. “Your one weakness, my dear, is your prejudice against Reavers. Not all of us are as stupid as you think.”

“Clearly,” Maxine muttered sourly.

“Besides, I enjoyed you plying me with liquor and doing everything else in your power to distract me from taking you into our bed before I passed out.” Aryk grinned at the fuzzy memories of Maxine dancing on the kitchen table as she removed her clothing slowly but surely. She was far too thin for a Reaver woman, but she was a foreigner taken during a raid and her pretty face more than made up for her scrawny hips and breasts.

Maxine flicked one of Aryk’s ears while he worked. “Then why show your hand and let me know that you know about my distractions?”

Aryk reflected, not for the first time, how lucky Maxine was that he had been to one to claim her on the day his father’s ship and raided her town. Any other Reaver would have beaten her to a bloody pulp – if not killed her – for so insolently inflicting pain on him. Of course, he knew her true value, and was willing to tolerate such impertinence. “I have an important meeting with the Clan Chief in the morning and I need my mind sharp. Father will be there and he always knows when you’ve gotten me drunk the night before.”

Aryk could hear Maxine’s disapproving frown in her voice without turning around to see it on her angular face. “You outrank your father now, there’s no need to grovel to him any longer.”

“Harlgrimm is the Chief’s right hand man, even if he were not my father it would be unwise to make an enemy of him,” Aryk replied.

“He already resents you,” Maxine persisted. “He disapproves of our methods, even if he doesn’t understand half of them. He believes that any deviation from the old ways is wrong.”

Aryk smiled. No other woman belonging to a Reaver could get away with talking about a man’s raiding strategy as our methods. Maxine was different though. She was the key to Aryk’s phenomenal success. “He understands success, though. In truth, I think all he wants is me to take another woman and get a son out of her. It’s you he hates.”

Maxine popped all ten of her knuckles in quick succession, ending with both her thumbs at once. It was something she did when she was especially upset with something Aryk said. “I have made my feelings clear on bringing another woman into this house.”

Aryk finished installing the new hinges. He stood, wiped his hands off on his shirt, and wrapped his long arms around Maxine’s narrow waist. “And do you see another woman here?”

Maxine grudgingly returned the embrace. “I suppose not.”

“For a woman who hates Reavers, you are awfully possessive of yours.” Aryk kissed her ear.

“I’m complex. You know this.” She punched him in the ribs and tried to shove him away, but he was too strong for her.

“Relax! I’m not going to get you pregnant tonight. But I’m a Captain and one day I will need to have a son. That means you eventually have to give me one or I claim another woman.” Aryk moved his kisses down to her pale neck.

“Stop that!” Maxine thrust her boney knee at his groin and Aryk twisted away.

“Very well.” He laughed. “We can play that board game you love so much until it’s time to go to bed.”

“Don’t say board game like that. Vakra is a game of skill, patience, and cunning. It helps develop your primitive barbarian mind to grasp more civilized lines of thought.” Maxine grabbed the Vakra board and began setting it up on the table.

Choose Your Own Misadventure - 10

BACK

Lorcan had no desire to see anyone else die because of him, much less do the killing personally. He froze the air around Wexton’s hands and the fireballs that Wexton held winked out.

“Try this,” Lord Cumberbatch suggested. Lorcan felt a bizarre tingle inside his skull as one of Cumberbatch’s memories settled into Lorcan’s mind.

Lorcan sent a barrage of tiny round ice pellets at Wexton. They no doubt hurt like hell, but did not piece his skin. The other sorcerer stumbled backward, trying in vain to deflect the ice with his arms.

“See what happens when you let me guide you instead of ripping memories out of me?”

“I’ll thank you properly later. I’m still a little busy,” Lorcan muttered under his breath so that no one else could hear.

Lorcan hit Wexton right above his eyebrow with one last extra-large pellet. Wexton wobbled and then toppled over onto the wooden floor.

The entire room was staring at Lorcan, waiting. Lorcan looked around, clueless.

“Isn’t anyone going to tie him up?” Lorcan finally asked.

The Seafury side of the chamber let out a sigh of relief almost in unison. Luciana stepped forward.

“The Duel is one of the Trials,” she explained. “I don’t think anyone expected it to take place so soon, but there is no specific order the Trials must be carried out in.”

“Um…okay.” Lorcan was still confused. Senator Seafury’s men were all congratulating him and Senator Torgough was scowling at Lorcan.

Luciana seemed to understand Lorcan’s cluelessness. “The point of this Trial is to defeat your rival and then show him mercy. You must demonstrate a certain level of control over your abilities to use them non-lethally.”

Lorcan grinned. “You mean I did something right?”

Luciana gave him a level look. “Yes, but don’t let it go to your head. You’re still an idiot.”

A guttural roar preempted Lorcan’s comeback. He spun around to see Wexton leap to his feet and hurl an enormous fireball at Lorcan and Luciana. Lorcan stepped in front of Luciana and pushed her back with his right hand while extending his left to freeze the oncoming fireball.

Lorcan’s eyes widened as he realized that the blazing sphere hurtling at him was too hot to dissolve in time. Pain seared the left half of Lorcan’s body as the flames consumed his left arm up to the elbow before he managed to extinguish them. The soaking wet jacket and shirt that Lorcan had been wearing were burned away, his skin was an angry shade of red, and his left arm ended in a charred stump just above where his elbow had been.

“You’ll find this to be an appropriate response.” Cumberbatch sent another memory to Lorcan.

Lorcan brought his remaining hand around in a wide swooping gesture and a U-shaped ice crystal formed above Wexton and slammed down on top of him, the points of the U piercing the floor and knocking Wexton to his knees. He knelt, dazed underneath the arch of ice. Ice crystals began to grow rapidly from the inside of the U until Wexton was encased in a cocoon of ice. He struggled, but with only his nose and eyes remaining uncovered he could not even scream.

The burns covering the left side of his body finally overcame the temporary shock of his sudden injury and Lorcan’s legs gave out on him as the pain overwhelmed him. Luciana caught him carefully.

“Easy there, sorcerer. Let’s set you down gently.” She guided him over to a nearby table and got him lying down on it. Luciana turned and began barking orders at her father’s people. “Get someone to Weyrd Mountain immediately! Take the fastest horses and bring his great-grandmother and the other witches here! Go!” Lorcan heard men running out of the Elder’s Hall, but all he could see was Luciana’s dark red hair as she continued issuing commands. “You three get buckets and bring cold water. You go get herbs for burn wounds from the healer in town. You go with him and bring back as many bandages as you can carry. Father, get Torgough and his cronies out of here, we can’t have him trying to kill our sorcerer while he’s wounded.”

It was getting harder to breath and the fringes of Lorcan’s vision began to fade to black.

Luciana snapped her fingers loudly right in front of Lorcan’s eyes. “Hey! Stay with me, sorcerer! You aren’t dying on us now!”

Lorcan tried valiantly to keep from passing out, but the pain was too much. His body shut down and everything went black.

Lorcan stood in a beautiful garden. Bushes cut into the shape of animals and perfect flowers could be seen in every direction. The sun was shining overhead and birds chirped or sang from trees with leaves instead of needles – Lorcan had only heard of such trees, but had never seen one before.

Luciana shoved Vera to her knees in front of a man Lorcan did not recognize. Vera’s hands were tied behind her back and she wore an ornate purple gown with matching gems around her neck and on her fingers. Despite being bound and having Luciana’s sword pointed at her throat, Vera looked amused, only barely able to contain her laughter.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Mason,” Luciana demanded of the young man standing in front of her and Vera.

“Yes, Mason, tell her it isn’t true.” Vera snickered.

“Shut up!” Luciana snarled at Vera. She turned back to Mason. “Answer me! Tell me it’s just another one of her lies.”

“Anna, what’s going on? Do you know what the Emperor will do to you if he finds out you’re treating Vera this way?” Mason tried to step forward, but Luciana pressed her sword tighter against Vera’s neck.

“Tell me you aren’t a warlock and I’ll let her go.” Luciana’s eyes were locked on Mason.

“I—” Mason stopped. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then hung his head dejectedly.

“No,” Luciana whispered.

Vera giggled. “Still can’t lie to her, can you, Mason dearie?”

“Anna, please understand. I didn’t know what I was,” Mason pleaded.

“You bastard! It’s true?” Luciana looked so betrayed and hurt that Lorcan wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he knew it was pointless to try to interact with someone else’s dream.

“I only just found out. I…please don’t look at me that way, Anna.” Mason looked away.

“You used me to get close to the Emperor! How am I supposed to look at a traitor?” Luciana shot back.

“I—no—well, yes. But I swear, Anna, once I found out I wasn’t going to—”

“Enough of your lies!” Luciana spat. “Mason Torgough, I am honor bound to end your life in order to protect the Empire.”

“Anna, please don’t do this,” Mason begged. “I love you!”

“Warlocks don’t love.” Luciana brought her sword around in a wide arc that removed Mason’s head.

A single tear rolled down Luciana’s cheek.

Lorcan woke in a strange bed. Luciana was asleep in a chair beside his bed. In looking around, Lorcan decided that he was probably in the Old Fisherman Inn. No room on Weyrd Mountain was this fancy.

Luciana’s pale green eyes snapped open as soon as Lorcan sat up. “You need to rest,” she told him, stretching and standing up to check his bandages.

“How bad is it?” Lorcan asked her.

Luciana smirked. “Bad enough that you look better than you used to, you ugly idiot.”

Lorcan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re one charming asshole, you know that?”

“Your great-grandmother said almost the exact same thing. She was very upset with me for letting you get your arm burned off.”

“Where is she now?” Lorcan asked. Great Grandmother did not like to leave her patients.

“She was exhausted after healing you and so were your aunts. Evidently you should be dead. You’re a tough son of a bitch to have survived.”

“We Moons are stubborn. We don’t like to die until we’re good and ready, no matter how much we ought to go sooner.”

Luciana smiled. “You saved my life yesterday. And…you saved Evie’s life before that. She would have bled out if you hadn’t found her in the forest.” Her smile faded. “Thank you.”

“But…” Lorcan began, though he did not know what to say next. He had failed to save Evie the second time her life had been threatened.

The door cracked open and Senator Seafury entered when he saw Lorcan was awake. He stood stiff backed beside Lorcan’s bed. “Son, I want to thank you for saving my…my only daughter’s life.” The senator was obviously not used to displaying emotion of any kind, but losing Evie and then Luciana’s close call shortly thereafter had – not rattled him of course, he was the unflappable sort, but perhaps brought him within an inch of showing actual feelings.

“Sir, I just—” Lorcan started, but Senator Seafury interrupted him.

“No, no. I won’t hear it. I owe you a great debt, son. I’ll see that your family has enough gold to live comfortably no matter what happens to you in the next few months. I wish that I could do more, but way out here all I can do is give you some of what I already have too much of.”

“Th-thank you, sir,” Lorcan stammered. His family had never had any gold unless you counted what Great-Grandpa had stolen and used to buy the land on Weyrd Mountain for his still.

“Your great-grandmother says you will live, but the burned flesh will never heal completely. I don’t know where you got the rest of your scars, but it looks like our sorcerer has already been through a hell of a lot. Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Senator Seafury clapped Lorcan on his good shoulder and then left.

“My father, the great sentimentalist.” Luciana chuckled when he was gone.

Lorcan scoffed. “Calling the pot black, kettle?”

“Hush, you. At least I didn’t give you money as repayment for one of your limbs. My father is a good man…but my lack of interest in human connections surprises no one who knows him.”

“I…I didn’t mean to, but I saw…um…” Lorcan trailed off, embarrassed to explain that he’d seen Luciana’s dream.

Luciana smiled sadly. “You read my dreams while we slept. Yes, it is an old dream and one that haunts me often. I have read a great deal about what sorcerers and warlocks are capable of. I tried to stay awake, but as soon as I dozed I knew you would share what I dreamt. I suppose you have questions.”

Lorcan shook his head emphatically. “No! I…uh…I just wanted you to know that I knew.”

“Well, thank you for telling me. You are turning out to be a decent sort of idiot.”

“You’re too kind.

“Now get some rest.” Luciana left Lorcan in his dark room. His eyelids felt heavy and he found it easy to comply with Luciana’s command.

“Oh my God!” Mandy whispered.

“So cool!” Errol and Earl gasped.

“Shut it, you two! He just needs the love of a pretty girl to nurse him back to health,” Thomas chided his cousins.

One or more of Uncle Cal’s girls squealed and ran screaming from the room. Someone snickered at them until someone else hit them for being inconsiderate.

Lorcan opened his eyes slowly. His entire family was reluctantly filing into his room. With the exception of some of his younger cousins, everyone looked terrified.

“Hi everybody.” Lorcan did his best to smile without wincing, he doubted it worked well.

Mandy sat down on his bed and held Lorcan’s hand. “Does it hurt?”

Lorcan nodded. “I’ll live, though.”

“Is Luciana going to nurse you back to health?” Thomas asked hopefully.

Lorcan groaned. “Little bro, what did I tell you about Luciana? She is off limits for your crazy fantasies.”

“But she stayed by your side and changed your bandages and–” Thomas protested.

Lorcan cut him off. “No. Find some other girl to have me marry in your imagination. I didn’t survive all this just to get stabbed in my sleep.”

“I’m sure she’d wake you up first,” Great Grandmother chimed in. “She’s the honorable type of girl.”

“Oh, now you like her too?” Lorcan rolled his eyes.

“That insufferable ice queen with the pompous attitude who looks at everyone else like insects crawling on her fancy boots? Yes, actually. She’s good people. Keep her around, but don’t take your eyes off her knife hand,” Great Grandma advised.

“I really think there are better things to talk about than my love life right now,” Lorcan told them.

“You really don’t know us very well, do you?” Mandy chuckled.

“Unfortunately, I know you too well,” Lorcan answered.

“So, son, what happens next?” Lorcan’s father asked in order to save him from Thomas and Great Grandmother. Lorcan gave him a grateful look.

“He heals,” Luciana answered. Lorcan’s relatives parted for her as she entered the room. “Wexton remains imprisoned in Lorcan’s ice cocoon. By the time that the Divinatrix and the Emperor’s emissary arrive he should be ready to continue the Trials.”

“You can’t intend to go on with this lunacy after what happened to Lorcan already?” Mandy stared incredulously at Luciana.

“I’m afraid we must,” Luciana answered coolly. “Overly dramatic though it may seem, the fate of the world may depend on us proving that Lorcan is the New Sorcerer and Wexton is a warlock.”

“He’s my brother,” Mandy glared menacingly at Luciana. “I won’t let you get him killed.”

“Easy, Mandy.” Lorcan squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’m not going to get killed.”

“Fine,” Mandy growled. “What happens after all the fancy-pants folks come to town?”

“Well, Lorcan gets to make a choice. He can opt to see the Divinatrix immediately and receive what advice she will give him about his future or he can choose to see the Imperial Emissary’s description of each Trial that he is to face as he proves himself. The rest of us only know a few vague aspects of what the Trials entail and will be of little help. The Duel is done, but there will be many more yet to overcome,” Luciana explained.

What does Lorcan choose?

1)      Hear what the Divinatrix has to say about his future.

2)      Learn details about what he will face during the Trials.

Choose Your Own Misadventure - 9

BACK

Lorcan stumbled out of the still into the cold night air. He had never been drunk before and he was having a good deal of trouble walking.

“This will end poorly, mark my words. Commoners simply cannot handle their liquor,” Lord Cumberbatch muttered.

“If I’m so common how come I just had the best idea EVER?” Lorcan asked as he tripped over nothing and landed face first in the mud.

Cumberbatch scoffed. “I sincerely doubt that.”

“I’m going to bring Evie and Julian back from the dead! It’s a perfect plan!” Lorcan pushed himself up into a sitting position in the mud puddle.

“You have no idea how to even begin doing that. You are barely a toddler in terms of your magical knowledge.” Lord Cumberbatch sounded mildly disturbed by Lorcan’s suggestion.

“Nuh-uh! Vera said I could do it!”

“The fact remains that you do not know who to execute your moronic plan.”

“But you do!” Lorcan chortled triumphantly. “And we’re connected. I’ve got it all figured out! I can know what you know.”

Lord Cumberbatch was speechless.

“I knew it! I am the smartest man alive!” Lorcan felt that it was unfair that he realized at that particular moment that he was not sitting in mud, but chicken shit.

“You are an idiotic peasant fool and you have no idea what the consequences of what you’re proposing are!”

“Too bad, cranky-pants! I’m raising up some dead folks!” Lorcan lurched too his feet and staggered into the forest. He promptly hit his head on a low hanging branch and that was the last thing he remembered.

“Oh God, my head.” Lorcan groaned. He was lying on the ground, staring up at a tree, and soaking wet. It was raining and something nearby smelled very badly.

“Look who decided to finally wake up and reap his comeuppance.” Lord Cumberbatch sounded particularly uppity this morning.

“What are you talking about? And what is that horrible smell?” Lorcan looked around for what could be producing such a potent odor even though it was pouring down rain.

“I think I’m going to let you play a rousing game of Hungover Detective on your own. I want to be able to gloat later when you realize the enormity of your stupidity.”

“Huh? Cumberbatch, what the hell is Hungover Detective? Cumberbatch?” Lorcan heard nothing but the intense pounding inside his skull that had plagued him since he had woken up. “Fine, keep quiet.”

Lorcan stood up and surveyed his surroundings. He was under a fir tree and though he wasn’t completely sure, he thought he was in between the still and Lake Wanderer. Looking down at his drenched clothing, Lorcan discovered that the awful smell was his clothes. A closer sniff confirmed Lorcan’s suspicion that chicken feces was smeared all over his body. Lorcan’s stomach lurched and he threw up all over his own shoes.

“I am never going to drink again,” Lorcan vowed. He stripped down naked and headed to where there should be a creek, assuming he was where he thought he was. For a moment he thought a couple chipmunks were following him, but he assured himself that it was just his imagination.

The creek was right where Lorcan had hoped. He waded into the freezing water, rinsing his shirt, coat, pants, underwear, socks and boots. When he was done with his clothes he tossed them on a nearby rock. It was still raining so they wouldn’t dry off anytime soon, but at least they didn’t smell so vile.

Lorcan was scrubbing shit out of his hair when something light but pokey hit him on the back of his neck. He stood up and looked around. There was no one on either side of the creek.

Another pinecone hit him, this time right above the eyebrow. “Hey!” he shouted at…whoever.

“I’m loving the scars.” Lorcan looked up to see Vera lounging on a branch twenty or more feet up a nearby tree.

Lorcan glanced down at his bare torso. He had twenty-seven scars on his chest and stomach from his failed attempts to navigate Lord Cumberbatch’s crucible. He also had the symbols from his talisman burned into the palm of his right hand.

“You’ve been up there the whole time, haven’t you?” Lorcan asked.

“Long enough to see what a cold day it is.” Vera snickered.

Lorcan blushed. He was standing in icy water up to his waist. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you. I’m surprised Anna hasn’t found you yet. She went to your family’s house this morning and has been searching the woods for you ever since. She is not pleased that you have eluded her thus far.” Vera smiled at Luciana’s misfortune.

“Aren’t you worried she’ll find you and try to kill you?” Lorcan wanted to leave the frigid creek, but was not keen on letting Vera see his privates again.

Vera laughed. “Anna will be trying to kill me for the rest of her life. Which is unfair, really. After all, you were the one who killed her sister.”

“I did not!” Lorcan shouted back.

Vera shrugged. “Keep practicing your necromancy, the chipmunks turned out a bit off.”

“What chipmunks?” Lorcan scratched his head. Why did that seem familiar?

Vera looked highly amused as she pointed to the rock where Lorcan had left his clothes. The two chipmunks that Lorcan had thought were following him earlier were standing on the rock staring at him. Lorcan had to fight the urge to vomit when he realized that one of their skulls was caved in and the other looked to have been chewed on for a while and then spit out.

“What the hell are those things?” Lorcan gulped again. He did not want to throw up for a second time this morning.

“I believe now is the appropriate moment for me to gloat,” Lord Cumberbatch chortled jubilantly.

Vera swung down gracefully to a lower branch before hopping down to the ground. “Those are your first creations. I’m proud of you for turning to necromancy so early in your career as a sorcerer.”

“I made them?” Lorcan vaguely remembered wanting to resurrect Evie and Julian last night, but he had no memory of reanimating rodents.

“Oh yes. You must have figured out how to access Lord Cumberbatch’s memories. He did more than a bit of dabbling in the dark arts as a young man.” Vera pulled off her boots and waded into the creek.

“What are you doing? Don’t come any closer!” Lorcan tried to back away, but he slipped on the smooth rocks of the creekbed and tumbled under the water.

Vera pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. She had her arms around him in a tight embrace. Their bodies were pressed together and Vera’s hawkish nose was an inch from Lorcan’s. Lorcan found himself staring into her eyes, one blue and one brown. “I—I don’t understand,” he stammered.

She smiled at him. “You will. In time.” For the second time in as many days, Vera kissed Lorcan and – though he hadn’t meant to – this time he found himself kissing her back.

Lorcan was out of breath when Vera broke the kiss. “What…?” Lorcan silently berated himself for not having anything even remotely intelligent to say.

Vera ran her hand along Lorcan’s cheek. “Oh, sweetie, don’t try to talk when you’re flustered. You don’t know what to say and that that’s fine. Now shut your mouth before you start catching flies.”

Embarrassed that she was completely right, Lorcan closed his mouth.

“Did you notice my necklace?” Vera lifted the red and blue cone of crystal up for Lorcan to see. Upon closer inspection, Lorcan realized that it was not a red tipped blue crystal, but a piece of ice with blood staining the tip.

“Is that what I think it is?” Lorcan gawked.

Vera nodded. “The icicle you pierced my heart with. I broke off the end and put it on a chain. It’s preserved so it won’t ever melt.”

Lorcan found himself once again speechless.

“You have such a way with words, my dear.” Vera ran her hand across Lorcan’s scarred chest. “Tootles, sweetheart!”

Vera bounded fluidly out of the creek, snatched her boots, and disappeared into the forest with one last wink over her shoulder for Lorcan.

“God-dammit, Lorcan!” Luciana shouted angrily. “Why the hell are you naked?”

Lorcan turned to see Luciana striding out of the trees with a machete in hand. “I…um…well…”

“Never mind!” Luciana growled and turned her back. “Just get dressed. I need you in town.”

Lorcan climbed out of the creek and tried to shoo the undead chipmunks away from his clothes, but they just stared at him creepily. Lorcan pulled his soaking wet clothes on and followed Luciana back the way she had come.

The rain was coming down harder as they tromped along the muddy trails. Lorcan’s chipmunks were still following him, but Luciana was too angry to notice.

“I’m so sorry about Evie,” Lorcan said after a long silence.

“Don’t talk to me about my sister,” Luciana replied coldly. Lorcan could tell she was still furious, but she was back to speaking in her usual icy tone.

Lorcan nodded before realizing that he was behind Luciana and she couldn’t see him. “Understood. What’s happening in town?”

“My father’s chief rival has found the other one,” Luciana told him without turning around.

“Other one?” Lorcan asked.

“Prophecy says there will be two men found in the Reach living with three witches. One will be our salvation, the other a warlock who gave away his memories in the Dark Bargain to pose as a sorcerer.”

“But if I’m not a warlock then doesn’t that mean that this fellow is evil?” Without realizing it, Lorcan touched the medallion hanging from his neck.

“We don’t know that you aren’t a warlock. We don’t think you are because you’re such an idiot, but that could be part of the personality the Last Sorcerer gave you to fool us.”

Lorcan gulped nervously. He glanced over his shoulder at the zombie chipmunks hopping along behind him. They walked in silence the rest of the way down the mountain to Ostfield. There was no sign that anyone here in town knew what had happened after the badger festival. Everyone was going about their usual business.

Luciana led them to the Elder’s Hall at the center of town. “We aren’t going to the inn?” Lorcan asked.

Luciana shook her head. “Senator Torgough sees that as my father’s territory since he has been there longer. He demanded they meet at a neutral location.” She pushed open the wooden doors and entered the large square meeting chamber that the town elders met in.

Everyone inside was waiting tensely and staring daggers at their counterparts on the other side of the room. “How much does your father hate this Senator Torgough?” Lorcan whispered.

“Their rivalry goes back to when they were small children,” Luciana replied softly. She made her way to stand beside her father. Lorcan followed.

Someone on the Torgough side of the room screamed and a ball of fire shot across the hall. Lorcan spun around just in time to see his chipmunks get incinerated by the miniscule blast. He hadn’t realized that they’d followed him inside. The chamber erupted in angry shouts and drawn swords.

“They were demons! Soulless abominations! I had to scourge them from the land! I had to!” A young man about Lorcan’s age flailed and screamed as Senator Torgough’s tried to restrain him.

“Control your potential sorcerer!” Senator Seafury bellowed at Torgough.

“Yours must have provoked him! I’m onto you, Seafury!” Torgough shot back.

After the other sorcerer had been calmed and the shouting died down, the senators addressed one another in a more civil manner. Lorcan finally got a good look at his counterpart on the Torgough side of the room. He was tall and lanky, like Lorcan, but he had his head shaved and he wore the blood red robe of a Marlon Fanatic. His bare scalp had a variety of tattoos on it. The Marlon Fanatics lived in a fairly large community to the north and outsiders rarely dealt with them unless they were forced to. Marlon Fanatics did not have a good reputation when it came to dealing with others.

“It is time for the Trials to begin,” Senator Seafury said somberly. “One of these boys will help us ensure that the Last Sorcerer’s plot to free his master fails and the other will unleash Death to walk the land once more.”

“Word has been sent to the Divinatrix,” Senator Torgough replied. “Emissaries of the Emperor will accompany her.”

Lorcan saw Luciana stiffen slightly at the mention of the Emperor’s emissaries, but he kept his mouth shut.

“This is Lorcan Moon, I officially present him as the New Sorcerer.” Luciana’s father gestured for Lorcan to step forward, he did so.

“This is Wexton Craine, I officially present him as the New Sorcerer.” Torgough waved Wexton forward.

Lorcan and Wexton stared at one another. Without warning, Wexton screeched, “Devil! Scourge it! Scourge this demonic creature!” He began hurling fire in Lorcan’s direction.

Acting purely on instinct, Lorcan froze the air around the fireball coming directly at him. It fizzled harmlessly. He locked eyes with Wexton. Wexton snarled back at him and created a fireball in each hand. Lorcan considered for a moment, should he try to subdue the obviously deranged Wexton or not risk pulling any punches and potentially kill him?

What does Lorcan do?

1)      Attempt to restrain Wexton without killinghim.

2)      Attack all out, there’s no telling what this lunatic is capable of!