Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

20

"Yes."

"And this happened after a pyromancer leveled the area?"

Esmund shook his head and murmured, "No, a fairy godmother."

"Huh? Speak up!" Erasmus scowled.

Esmund raised his voice, "She's a fairy godmother, not a pyromancer."

"No need to shout! I'm not deaf, you know." Erasmus moved his finger down as though wiping the dust off a pane of glass, and the flame flashed blood red. "There's no such thing as a fire-wielding fairy godmother, never has been, never will be. But that's beside the point." There was no flicker to the flame, as though it had frozen in place, even when Erasmus lowered it to the table. "It's as I feared."

Shaking his head, Erasmus left his perch atop the ladder and rummaged through a cabinet. "Now...where did I put it?" Papers rustled, heavy objects clattered against each other and scraped against the drawer's wood bottom.

Several muffled curses later, Erasmus grunted his approval and turned to face Ulric as he unsheathed a wicked-looking dagger sporting an intricate bronze hilt. Keeping his gaze trained on Ulric, Erasmus rolled up his left sleeve and drew the sharp edge against his forearm, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.

The metallic scent of blood barely tinged the air when Ulric's lips curled back in a snarl and exposed his sharpening teeth. His muscles shifted and swelled with the release of his Berserker, and his eyes became black and glowed with an eerie light.

When Ulric clenched his hands into tight fists, the veins bulged and threatened to explode. He took three steps toward Erasmus, his face a mask of rage. Tilting his head to the side, Ulric studied Erasmus for a fraction of a second before growling and lunging for the shaman, only to come up short when Erasmus snapped his fingers.

Flames flashed through the air in rapid succession and pelted against Ulric's chest with such force he fell into the bookcase on the wall behind him. The wooden shelves broke under the sudden weight and dumped their heavy loads. Books crashed to the floor around him and yet managed to land in perfect order.

Erasmus ran a finger over the wound on his forearm, erasing the bloody mark altogether. The Berserker rage and the barrage of fire ended simultaneously. Esmund's gaze darted between Ulric and Erasmus, wondering what he'd seen. Since when had Erasmus held the ability to wield magic like that?

"What the hell just happened?" Ulric growled as he glared at Erasmus and pulled away from the destroyed bookcase. Delicate tendrils of smoke rose from the multiple holes across the entire expanse of his shirt.

He pulled the ruined material away and surveyed the damage. His mouth flattened in displeasure as he gazed at the old man. "You better have a good excuse for what you just did; this was my last decent shirt."

"You're afflicted with what's known as blood magic, m'boy," Erasmus stated.

He opened the curtains, drowning the room with light, and went back to his worktable where the blood-red flame still glowed without flickering. After snuffing it out with a pinch of his fingers, he put the blue candle away and began scribbling strange symbols on a piece of parchment.

Ulric's hands curled into fists as he took a step forward. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Erasmus sighed, removing the spectacles from his nose, "I'll be frank—nothing can be done."

"You mean this is permanent?" Vernon asked, placing a calming hand on Ulric's arm.

The grandfather clock chimed the hour with a heavy 'dong, dong, dong' before fading into silence. They all watched Erasmus with bated breath as he dipped his pen in an inkwell and continued scribbling on the parchment.