A Clash of Magics by Guy Antibes (e ink manga reader txt) 📗

Trevor said to the smoking remains, but Trevor felt drained. The magic that had filled him when he touched the rod was gone. He wondered if Gareeze Plissaki had somehow charged it up for him. Trevor shook his head. He might never find out, especially if he was trapped in the chamber.

“Red,” Trevor said aloud in the silence of the chamber. “Old magic, for sure.” The magician’s bolts were orange. Trevor suspected the one he had generated was much more powerful. It didn’t matter. Any bolt that would punch through Plissaki’s charms was good enough for him. At least he would go to his death knowing that the magician who had brought so much evil to Brachia and was responsible for Boxster’s death was gone for good.

He sat on a chair and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as the lights continued to pulse different colors. Nothing happened, but then he rose from the chair and laid back on the table.

Trevor felt a jolt of something go through his body, forcing him to close his eyes. He opened them a moment later and found himself still sharing the chamber with Plissaki’s body, but glowing sections on the chairs’ arms had appeared.

“The green one,” Trevor said to himself. “It feels right.”

He pressed a button and felt magic pour into his cuirass, his sword, and then filling him up.

“I’m recharged!” he said to the empty room. He took the rod that he had tucked into his waistband, and it felt much the same way before he had used it on the magician.

“The potentate’s pier,” Trevor said as he thought of the gate and archway leading to the potentate’s ship.

A soldier bumped into him, or Trevor bumped into a soldier. Trevor looked on at the ship continuing to burn. He didn’t know how much time had elapsed, but Samar Doford’s ships were close. Men lined the railings gazing at the ship which had begun to drift from the dock.

Trevor spotted Win onboard, holding his arm and avoiding the burning fragments continuing to rain down on the deck. He frantically looked around for the uniform of a magician, but none were near. He put his hand on the rod and thought of using the ancient magic to teleport.

In an eyeblink, he was beside his friend. He grabbed Win’s wrist and teleported back to the dock. As they appeared, both of them collapsed to the ground. Trevor stood up and brushed himself off. It was Win who had collapsed, this time. Trevor still held onto the rod and felt the magic intact. Perhaps he might not need a magician if the rod was filled with magic.

“I got him,” Win said. He pointed to the flames consuming the potentate’s ship, burning not far from the dock. “I wish he were alive to feel the flames,” he said as they both heard screaming from the ship. A few men jumped into the water, but then nothing stirred on the deck as Trevor could feel the heat from the flames as he stood watching the potentate’s vessel die.

Soldiers stood on the dock staring at the conflagration.

“My charms held up,” Win said, his eyes fixed on the dying vessel. “The potentate hit me with everything that he had, but I’m sure Azar was with me as I slashed at the potentate’s neck and then plunged my sword through his armor. I left the sword in his chest. When they pull the body out, whoever recovers the corpse will know he is truly dead.”

Trevor nodded and gave his friend a one-armed hug. “No need to worry about Plissaki, either, if you care to know.”

Win smiled faintly. “I do. We did well, didn’t we, my friend.”

Trevor nodded. “We did. Desolation Boxster would be proud of both of us.”

Win nodded and grinned with a bit more energy. “I’m sure he would.”

~

Chapter Twenty-Nine

~

K hartoo had lost its magicians and the country’s ruler. The city felt deflated as Trevor and his friends rode through the streets. Brother Yvan had them stop at Merik Bandeford’s house. Brother Yvan and Trevor walked up the steps while Gorian, Glynna, Volst, Lissa, and Win stood on the sidewalk.

Merik, himself, opened the door. “Ah. You came to gloat, Yvan?”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Brother Yvan said. “Are you still up to performing as seer to Maskum?”

“You don’t think Lister Vale wants me to repent and pray for forgiveness?”

Brother Yvan sighed. “Do you have things to repent of?”

Merik gave Yvan a pained look. “Of course I do. I was the potentate’s seer, not Maskum’s.”

“And he truly did want to rule the world, didn’t he?” Brother Yvan asked.

Merik nodded. “He promised me that he would allow seers to remain in all the countries.”

“Not so,” Trevor said. “The magicians in Viksar attacked Seer Caspur. Did you know that?”

“Of course not!” Merik said, looking genuinely shocked.

Trevor could see the information didn’t sit well with the wayward seer.

“If you want to pay for whatever you feel you did wrong, lend Maskum some spiritual help. Without all the magicians, there is an opportunity to improve the citizens’ relationship with Dryden. That is the kind of penance that Lister would heartily approve of.”

Merik pursed his lips. “I’ll consider your advice.” He looked at the palace spires. “The potentate offered me a place on his royal ship. I thought of both of you and decided to decline. I hope that will be something else in my favor.”

“It’s not my job to judge,” Brother Yvan said. “But if you think that is something you don’t have to repent for, then I’m sure you made the right decision. Trevor made sure all the armies weren’t here to loot and occupy. We heard reports that the magicians left enough wealth from the Eagle cabal’s treasury to pay their soldiers and their expenses.”

Merik sighed. “Good