Page 2 of Tusks, Tails & Teacakes
Now that they were clear of the castle, Lira spotted Rog and Pirrin waiting for them on the other side of the drawbridge. Rog’s blue beard matched the cap he wore that didn’t quite cover his long, pointed ears. Pirrin was at least twice the gnome’s height with russet hair that sagged across his furrowed brow.
The thudding of Lira’s heart slowed as they cleared the castle and passed over the long-dried moat. The gnome and ranger appeared unharmed. They looked as displeased as she felt, but they didn’t boast any bloody gashes or gaping wounds. A wave of relief washed over her that her friends were safe.
Rog tugged off his cap and slapped it against his leg. “What in the moldy ogre’s sack was that?”
“An army of oath-breakers,” Pirrin said, pinching his brows together.
Lira looked at the grizzled ranger and wondered if he’d heard of the cursed wraiths before tonight.
“Did you know about this?” Cali asked, beating Lira to the question.
Pirrin shook his head, always better with gestures than words. “I knew the king had broken his word. Knew that the king he’d betrayed had cursed him. Didn’t know it meant…” He tipped his head to the remains of the castle but didn’t finish the sentence. There was no need.
“Vaskel and Malek should be here.” Lira swung her head around. “Wasn’t Vaskel with you?”
“Until we cleared the tower.” Rog’s voice was a grizzled rasp. “Then he went back for Malek. Said he had a feeling.”
They all turned to the castle. Vaskel’s feelings were rarely wrong.
Cali caught her eye, her whiskers twitching and the words unspoken. They couldn’t leave without the last two members of their crew. They never left anyone behind.
Before Lira could suggest they go back in, a cry ripped through the night.
“Malek,” growled Rog, producing a dagger with impressive speed.
Cali had notched an arrow into place and was aiming it at the walls, using the steel point as a guide as she searched for the scream.
But Lira didn’t look high. She looked at the expanse of rocky ground to the right where the cliffs plunged off to the sea.
Malek.
Time slowed as she watched the young mage stagger at the edge of the drop-off. His cloak billowed behind him like a sail unfurling in a gale, as if nudging him ever closer to the sea.
She ran toward him, her only thought to catch him before he went over. But when she was only steps from him, he whirled around. She skidded to a halt, her feet slipping the last few feet, sending pebbles skittering.
Black veins were crawling up his neck and face, which was frozen in a mangled grin.
“The spell was too…” The words splintered and vanished, eaten up by the sound of the ravenous waves.
Lira knew without him saying another word. Dark magic. It was the only explanation for the infernal curse that was overtaking him. Malek had always been tempted by it, but the crew managed to keep him from delving too deep—until now.
He must have attempted dark magic against the wraiths. A dark spell that had clearly backfired onto him.
“We can fix this,” Lira called over the wind that had started to shriek again.
He shook his head even as she held out her hand. “Too late.”
Vaskel appeared at Lira’s side, the pulse of him present even before he was. She glanced at his fierce expression, magenta skin twisted into a mask of pain. He knew what she did.
A series of hurried footsteps behind them announced the arrival of Cali, Rog, and Pirrin, but Malek didn’t see any of them. His face wastipped to the sky as he convulsed, his feet dancing closer to the cliff. Then one foot met air, and his body spun away.
Without thinking, Lira lunged, snatching the cuff of his robe as he went over the side. If only she could catch him, they’d be able to save him, cure him, find a way.
Then she was jerked back, saved from following the mage into the raging sea by Vaskel’s strong arm hooking her waist. The air rushed from her, the force of the Tiefling’s grip forcing her to slam into him as they both staggered away from the edge.
Lira’s heart seized as she stared at the scrap of fabric in her hands, all that was left of Malek.
He was gone. She sagged in Vaskel’s grasp with nothing to hold save a useless piece of the mage’s robe.
