A Weapon Of Magical Destruction Read online

  Ten minutes passed with no word from Mark. He’d been acting so weird as he left. She’d thought to look for him in his office, but the waking pain throbbing at her temples hinted at the magnitude of the headache coming on like a stampeding herd.

  He’d known her since she was a baby. He’d seen her birthmark thousands of times. Why did the look in his eyes match that of people seeing her deformity for the first time?

  Sage collapsed into a chair at the conference table and closed her eyes, hoping to stave off the full brunt of the oncoming migraine. A few minutes of shut-eye wouldn’t cure her, but anything beat staring at the Pandora’s boxes tempting with their silent siren call for her to open them.

  TWO

  The murky despair of ASSET’s conference room faded into the darkness as Sage drifted from reality. Dazzling colors exploded across a cloudless evening sky, and Sage found herself standing atop a hill as a rainbow of glittering specks fell around her. Great blooms of blue and then red, orange, and purple made for a spectacle that reminded Sage of her childhood. Her mom had always found the best places to watch the fireworks show.

  But her mother was dead.

  Sage followed the glittering trail of the last explosion as it faded down to the earth. Expecting to see families lying on blankets, grills filled with burgers and hotdogs, and the gleeful expressions of children admiring the Fourth of July celebration, Sage shrieked in horror at the sight of bodies, disfigured and bloody, carelessly heaped into piles amid a raging battlefield.

  The air escaped from her lungs and refused to return. Frozen where she stood, the only thing in motion was her heart, pounding ferociously against the walls of her chest as if it knew it had to escape, even if her body could not.

  Magic crackled in the air overhead. Lightning flashed across a cloudless sky and then speared the earth below, shattering the ground where it struck; all that remained after was a great singed hole.

  Her initial shock morphed into fear, as war cries in languages she’d never heard before rang out. A stranger in an even stranger land, Sage didn’t know whether running or hiding were viable options. Fighting armies clashed against each other everywhere she looked. Even if she could run, where could she go?

  On a hill to her left, cavalries of beast riders mowed down warriors carrying shields of soft, silvery light. They marched into what might have once been a beautiful meadow ringed with distant mountains. But ravaged by war, the gentle carpet of grass had been burned away, leaving dry, crumbling earth. Once-proud mountains had shattered into skeletons of their former glory, leaving little more than gnarled fingers of rock jutting up from the ground to grasp at the stars. This world looked so much like Earth, but felt primordial.

  Stranger still, these armies fought with magic, a thing of fantasy in her world. She had to be dreaming. Lucid as she was, this felt too much like her weekly game night raiding party, though far more realistic than role-playing with wooden swords and casting spells with made up words.

  It had to be a dream, and that thought calmed her racing heart. She found her breath and tried to let herself experience the world her imagination had summoned.

  Sage recognized the mighty centaurs charging into battle. Their enemies were equally familiar creatures from the supernatural realm: werewolves. Men morphed mid-stride into great snarling wolves the size of baby elephants as they met the oncoming charge from the centaurs.

  In the distance, cresting the top of a shattered hill, an entire army of grey-skinned foot soldiers marched into view. Each of the giants – or maybe they were trolls – carried weapons she had never seen before: guns with numerous gaping barrels. Blasters of corruption, she named them, thinking they’d be handy in her next dungeon raid.

  As if conjured from the very air, the giant trolls swung their arms forward, and from the mouths of their oddly shaped artillery sent a volley of glittering death raining down on the cavalry approaching them.

  No banners; no sigils; nothing distinguished the fighting camps from each other; just magic and death. When a body fell, it was tossed aside to make way for the next soldier as the army continued its march.

  Magic and death. The words formed and took root within her mind moments before a cloaked figure in blue blinked into existence.

  Sage shrank backwards, shock kicking her heart into overdrive. At this pace, her chest threatened to burst like the magical fireworks still blooming overhead. A moment of silence had Sage trembling in terror as she struggled to control herself. The cloaked figure exuded a confidence that needed no words. Beyond the darkness of its hood, Sage could feel eyes regarding her, scrutinizing her, assessing whether or not Sage was worthy.

  Sage opened her mouth, not quite knowing what to say. Peace. Friendship. Surrender. Anything to avoid her body being piled with the rest. But before the sound could leave her throat, the figure extended a pair of blue hands.

  A gesture of friendship? Sage reached out to grasp them.

  A ball of energetic light flickered between the cloaked figure’s palms. Sage wrenched her hand back, afraid to be burned as the ball grew into an electrified sphere.

  Amazement held Sage in stunned silence. Magic. Real. And happening right before her eyes. Electricity glowed blue and then white. Flecks of purple glittered as it arched within the invisible confines of the magical sphere. Like liquid crystal, the outer edges of the ball moved and shifted, all the while maintaining the spherical shape as the cloaked figure held it suspended between its hands.

  Once the ball was fully formed, the cloaked figure threw it at Sage’s feet. Instinctively she hopped backwards with a squeal. It landed with an explosive burst that singed the blades of grass to fine ash.

  Why? The question hung in Sage’s mind, but her lips trembled too much to ask it.

  Blood. Death. Destruction. Sage heard the words form in her mother’s voice, as if whispering in her ear. The result of war fought with magic.

  The cloaked figure laughed, a raspy sound, sending icy chills down Sage’s spine. It pulled back its hood, and shimmering eyes of the deepest blue glared at her with a silent threat of death. Those eyes should have been red for all the raw fury she felt under the weight of their piercing glare, but the magical creature threatening to unleash another attack was the essence of blue – as blue as the most beautiful sapphire, with subtle shimmers of purple and sliver flecks in its long hair. She found it hard to tear her eyes away from the gorgeous creature. How could something so beautiful be so deadly?

  Gone were her initial feelings of awe. She’d have given anything to return to her safe and mundane home where the only crazy things that happened were on game night.

  Another sizzling softball-sized charge hit the ground at her feet, making Sage skip backwards. Thankful the magical assassin had chosen to make her dance instead of killing her outright, she couldn’t help but feel the creature was toying with her, prolonging the moment of her death for when it suited the creature best.

  She should run? Live to fight another day? Sage’s subconscious screamed for her to do something, but could she really outrun magic?

  Across the wasteland, another arc of lightning appeared from the cloudless sky, splintering into three branches before striking the ground below.

  Standing underneath the deadly trio of ethereal energy, Sage saw her mother: Miranda Cynwrig. Long red hair braided for battle, wrapped over her left shoulder; her trademark look. Always there when Sage needed her; her own personal superhero. Alive and ready to fight! The only thing missing was a billowing cape behind her. Seeing Miranda standing amid the magic and fighting, unharmed and ready for battle, bolstered Sage’s courage. No matter how bad things looked, Mom would save her.

  From across the expanse of wasteland, their eyes met. Miranda opened her mouth, but no sound made its way to Sage’s ears. In her mother’s hands were twin daggers, held ready to fight.

  Another strike caught Sage unawares, pushing her back even farther than the last one. Four, maybe five more steps and she would fall.r />
  “Stop. Please!” Sage screamed. “Why are you doing this?”

  Her plea was met with another explosion of energy at her feet. Sage looked desperately toward her mother, but Miranda had vanished, just like magic – there one second and gone the moment its force had been used.

  I’m dreaming. This is only a dream! Wake up!

  Sage pinched herself, but that didn’t rouse her. She had to escape this world before it ended her. If you die in a dream, you die in real life – that was the story she’d always heard. And damned if she was going to die in fantasy land. She tried again…harder! Nearly sending her nail through her skin, she pinched herself so hard her eyes watered, and an involuntary squeal erupted from her mouth. But pain refused to send her back to the real world.

  Another strike nearly took out her foot. Sage jumped backwards instinctively, without looking where she was heading, and found herself teetering on the edge of the world. Wind-milling her hands as fast as she could, she threw her weight forward. Heart racing, she crashed and pawed at the ground. Desperate not to fall, Sage dug her nails into the burnt, black dirt, clinging to the earth for dear life, all the while praying to any gods that might listen to get her out of this.

  She allowed herself a peek over the edge. Emptiness ran further down than she could possibly see. Nothing but the blackest of black.

  Another strike of energy hit just shy of her fingers, and she felt the sting of errant electricity and cried out with more fear than pain.

  She had nowhere to go. If she fell, she’d surely die. But if she were struck by the creature’s energy, she’d surely die.

  Face your enemy. Show them no fear. Sage’s mother whispered the words inside her mind, urging her to be strong.

  She looked up, expecting to see the sapphire eyes of her killer. “Do it!” But the face of her mother came into view instead, bathed in the brightest of white light. Sage could barely make out her features, but intuition filled in the gaps where her sight failed.

  A smile. A promise. A flash of that brilliant light enveloped them both. It all happened so quickly. Tingling waves like tiny pinpricks of static electricity crawled harmlessly over her skin.

  Splayed out on the mangled earth, Sage was conscious of the fact she had been struck by something, but death had not come to claim her. Nor had she returned to her own reality.

  The tiny charges of electricity left their warm fingerprints all over, and her skin drank in the heat. Light wrapped around her with all the physical strength of her mother’s arms, lifting and embracing Sage in a loving hug she didn’t realize she needed and prayed would never end.

  Words echoed in her mind, in her mother’s voice. I am with you, always.

  Miranda’s light flickered, dimming as it began to merge with Sage. She couldn’t stop it or break free from her mother’s fading embrace. Drinking it all in, Sage’s body pulled in the essence of her mother’s fading spirit, giving it permanent residence within her heart.

  Miranda had gone, leaving only a small ember of white light floating in midair.

  Magic and death. The words echoed again as tears streamed down Sage’s face.

  She reached out her hand toward the tiny speck, not wanting to let go of her mom. She couldn’t reason why, but this meeting felt like a true goodbye.

  The ember touched down on her wrist, and its kiss burned like wildfire. Sage hissed as her skin singed, and the ember branded a tree into the spot where it landed. Magically twisting branches expanded into a glorious canopy on top, and then below, straggling roots dug deeply into her veins, tapping into the red of her blood to color the mark.

  She screamed, but the sound that reached her ears was not her voice.

  A man was calling out her name. His voice was familiar but hollow, and almost a whisper, as if from a great distance.

  Pain riveted her eyes to the markings that were etching into her skin. Around the canopy of twisting tree branches, leaves began to appear in a semi-circle crowning the great tree. Once all had been formed, the light and heat faded into memory, leaving only the branding of that tree as a reminder.

  She heard her name again, louder this time.

  When she looked up, the battlefield had disappeared. Standing before her was a tree, matching the one scarring her wrist. Large as a skyscraper and wider around than any she had ever seen, she was forced to step backwards to take it all in.

  The land around her was empty; the valley lush and green. All signs of the previous battles had vanished, and a bright sun shone overhead, its light twinkling through the canopy of leaves.

  Sage would have loved to stay and explore, but the cry of her name on the wind demanded she listen. Louder and louder the voice called out, demanding she find it and answer. Sage shut her eyes and covered her ears, but her efforts gave no relief from the sound.

  Her head throbbed and a fierce headache threatened to split her skull in half. Once more the voice called out her name, and with a frustrated cry, Sage opened her eyes.

  “Sage, are you okay? Speak to me!” Mark’s voice resonated with fear more than concern as he repeated the command over and over, demanding her response.

  Sleep clouded her vision, and at first she couldn’t tell which realm she was in. The dream had been so real; but at least there she had felt a connection to her mother. Now all she felt was pain – her head throbbing, her wrist burning. She focused through the pain and found Mark staring down at her. His brow furrowed as he stared at her wrist.

  “Please let this be a nightmare too,” Sage whispered like a prayer.

  THREE

  “It’s okay. I’m here,” Mark said gently. He knelt down and met her eyes, scrutinizing her as if she’d had some kind of seizure.

  She’d been dreaming. Hopefully not talking in her sleep. Though if she had, it would explain the concerned look on Mark’s face.

  “Headache. I need water, please.” She breathed deeply, struggling to separate the dream from reality. Her wrist itched, echoing the pain that had branded her. She reached to scratch it, noticing how closely Mark watched her hands.

  His lip twitched, and the beginnings of a smile began to split his mouth, but he clenched his jaw and stood quickly. With his back to her, Mark promised to return with medicine and water.

  Twice now he’d left her alone in this room, but she wouldn’t let herself fall asleep this time.

  She looked down at her wrist, which itched like a healing wound. The mangled veins appeared less haphazard now, taking on more of a tree-like appearance, just as in the dream. But now, she noticed something else.

  A freckle, maybe.

  Sunspot was probably the proper term.

  A quarter of an inch above her birthmark, a small speck had appeared. Shaped like an elongated heart, it looked like a leaf at the top of her tree-like branches.

  Her mother had had spots surrounding her birthmark as well. Maybe that was why Mark had seemed so interested. Heredity was catching up to her. She was becoming like her mother; at least, as far as the deformity was concerned.

  Mark returned quickly this time, carrying bottles and a stack of papers so high Sage’s hand cramped at the thought of having to sign them all.

  “After you’re done signing these, let’s grab some dinner.” He sounded as if he were delivering an edict, but food was the last thing she could think of.

  “Really, I just want to get this over with and go home… to Vegas.” She clarified the destination, knowing that at some point he’d probably ask if she were going to come back and live in her mother’s old home.

  He sighed with obvious disappointment and took out a handkerchief to mop the sweat on his brow. She’d never noticed before that he wore a large watch on his left arm, the band more a cuff of leather than a traditional strap. Branded into the leather was a tree – not a mangled, misshapen mess like the deformity on her wrist, this one looked like an old Irish knot, with a canopy above and small root system below. A sigil of a great house or maybe part of a clansmen crest, she won
dered. But those things belonged in her Thursday-night gaming group, not in the real world. Though it had not escaped her that the symbol was very similar to the markings both she and her mother shared. Perhaps it was his way of paying homage to her family.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He caught her curious gaze and pulled his arm behind his back as he slowly retreated from the room. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

  As weird as she was feeling, Mark was acting even more so. The way he kept looking suspiciously at her birthmark couldn’t be ignored. He’d known her since she was a child. She hadn’t changed; but the way he looked at her certainly had.

  She’d have to get to the bottom of that mystery later. The mountain of papers Mark had left her would take hours to work through. She set herself to reading and signing documents she barely understood. Legalese was a language she didn’t speak fluently. By the time she’d made it to the end of the stack, she’d stopped trying to make sense of everything. She scrawled her name where the little sign here sticker had been placed and moved on.

  The sun had long since departed, and her stomach growled fiercely with the need for food.

  Mark returned to clear away the final papers, looking as if he’d spent the day battling wargs and ogres. He collapsed heavily onto the seat next to her. “Please let me at least feed you before you disappear again.”

  The defeated tone in his voice coupled with the heavy bags weighing down his eyes said he needed the company a little more than she might. How could she refuse?

  “I’ve got an early flight out tomorrow, so let’s make it a quick dinner.” As she said the words, Sage saw the light return to his eyes. But knowing where the conversation was going to go, she finished off with, “I still haven’t been by the house yet, so I can’t be tied up all night.”