Maksym Pachesiuk
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Warlock's Last Exam - Chapter 29
🕑 Added 2025-01-16 15:42:57 +0000 UTC"How did you figure it out?" asked the man with Bryce’s face.
"The ring," I replied, keeping the barrel of the gun against his temple. “Wrong crest.”
The man clicked his tongue in annoyance, and the seal changed.
"Caught on a detail. I still can’t get used to the fact that he’s the Earl now. Relax, Duncan, it’s me."
The illusion dissolved, and I saw the profile of Bryan McLilly. Still, I didn’t lower the gun.
"Bryan’s illusions didn’t fool me before, and now a master vampire has been outsmarted."
"You ought to thank Bryce," Bryan said. "When he found out you spotted me on the train, he came up with this little trick." He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal part of a gold necklace adorned with pearls and teardrop-shaped lapis lazuli. "It makes illusions impenetrable."
"And the combat tricks?"
"Look at my hands," Bryan suggested.
Every finger, even his thumbs, bore rings with large stones. He turned his right hand palm-up, revealing three thin rods hidden up his sleeve.
"They geared you up like you’re going to war."
"Well, that’s pretty much what it is." He shrugged. "The telegram said you’d taken down a vampire. Back home, it’s just the Ferons and Baileys – Bryce is swamped with projects, so they kitted me out and sent me here. By the way, I know."
"Know what?" I asked, making a mental note not to forget about the telegram.
"Everything. Starting with the ‘Last Watch.’ Bryce figured I needed to know what I’d be dealing with and where to look for you in case you decided to vanish again. Was it Valentine who tried to kill you at the warehouse?"
"I’d like to know that myself," Sunset interjected. "What the hell are we dealing with here?"
Bryan winked at him in that characteristic way of his, a gesture so familiar that I finally stopped doubting and lowered the gun.
"We’ll be in Avoc by morning," the mage answered the detective. "You can ask the Earl yourself."
"Avoc?!" Sunset and I exclaimed in unison.
"I have orders to take you home," Bryan clarified. "Do you know how angry Bryce was after that telegram?"
"What’s in this telegram? I only sent mine this morning."
"It’s from Lord Flower. He wrote that you’ve been a bad influence on his sister, picking fights with vampires and the local aristocracy."
"That’s not exactly how it happened."
"I need to get to the precinct," Sunset interrupted.
"I can stop wherever you say," Bryan replied.
"And Duncan. He’s a witness, if not a suspect."
"I saved your life," Bryan reminded him. "Don’t push it, mister policeman."
"Wait, Bryan," I interjected. "I have an idea that’ll work for everyone. You’re a bit out of the loop. I called for reinforcements from Farnell. They’ll be in town by morning and will need information."
"I don’t know anything about that!" Bryan protested. "I searched the whole city for you. I even went to Flower, questioned the neighbors, tried to visit that mad wizard – but he nearly burned me to hell! If it weren’t for the blood, I wouldn’t have found you at all. And even then, the spell malfunctioned – It only gave me the general area. And what did I find there? A shootout! I even stole a car to chase after you. Lost you three times!"
"Where did you get my blood?"
"Bryce gave it to me."
"Fine. I’ll deal with that with my uncle later. You mentioned a mad wizard. Harry Smith?"
"Let’s say that’s a safe assumption."
"Let’s stay with him for the night. He’ll let me in."
"I have orders…"
"Call," I said. "Before we leave the city, make the call."
"It’ll take a lot of coins," Bryan replied, but he accepted the suggestion and stopped near a nondescript pawn shop, one of the few places still open at such a late hour. "How are you on potions?"
"Running low," I admitted.
"Here," he said, handing me his satchel. "Half of it’s yours. Patch up our policeman friend too. I brought more healing potions than I’ll ever need."
"I need to make a call too," Sunset added.
"Mister..."
"I need to get my guys up to speed. They won’t connect the fire at the docks to Valentine on their own."
"John," I said, "make up your mind. Are you chasing Valentine, or are you keeping an eye on me?"
"And while you’re deciding, don’t leave the car," Bryan added.
Aside from the potions, we also rifled through the trophy bag, dividing up weapons and amulets. Sunset ended up with items belonging to the dead vampire, as well as an unidentified revolver. It was a good thing Simon hadn’t laid claim to other people’s belongings – though he hadn’t left much of his own behind, either.
The call from the pawn shop cost McLilly a fiver, but it was worth it. Bryan returned deep in thought.
"You were right. The cavalry’s on the way."
"Then why don’t you look happy?"
"Because Bryce himself is leading the operation to haul your arse out of the mess you’ve shoved it into. And now I have to make a decision that might affect other people’s lives."
"But I…”
"Shut up, Duncan, don’t tempt me. This is a critical moment, and I need to think."
McLilly drummed a quick rhythm on the steering wheel with his fingers.
"I’ll get out here," Sunset said, then turned to me. "Your title, it belongs to clan, right? It’ll be hard for Baron Loxlin to hide."
"I’m not planning to. But I’d appreciate it if you waited to arrest me until after I’ve spoken with my uncle. Relying on your protection… well, I’d rather skip the middleman and head straight for the coffin."
"Oh, don’t worry. Next time, they’ll send a special squad just for you. Can you lend me some money?" Sunset asked. "Without a badge and covered in blood, it’s hard to convince someone to let me use a phone."
Bryan, not putting up a fight, handed the detective a tenner and made his decision.
"We’re staying."
Twenty minutes later, we were at the gates of The Anvil. I led Bryan through the wards to Harry, who was waiting for us on the porch. He gave the bloody mess on my chest a long, scrutinizing look but held back any snide comments.
"Where’s Knuckles?" he asked.
"Left him with the cops."
"Is he alive, at least?"
A pang of guilt shot through me. "I don’t know… It was chaos back there…"
"Is he the one who was in the car with you?" Bryan interjected. "Don’t worry, the bloodsuckers didn’t touch him."
"And you, young man?" Harry asked.
"Bryan McLilly, sir."
"You sure?" Harry replied addressing me. "I can’t seem to get a clear look through his shit."
Bryan pulled the necklace out from under his shirt. Harry considered it for a moment and nodded, asking only, "And what possessed you to climb over the fence?"
"I thought it’d be safer…" Bryan muttered sheepishly. "You’ve got what looks like a minefield here."
"And how’d you get over the fence? There are lightning wards running all along it…"
"And besides the visible seals, there are hidden ones too," Harry added. "You triggered one of those, boy."
"I thought…"
"Inside!" Harry shouted.
Through the tree branches obscuring the gate, a blue flash pierced the darkness, followed by a faint cracking sound. Harry clutched his chest and dropped to one knee.
"The bastards figured it out!" he growled, lifting his gaze to the sky.
I followed his eyes and saw death bursting like a white fountain from the rooftop of a house in the neighboring block. The magic dissolved into the air like a shimmering veil, but before it could disperse completely, it was swept up by an invisible current and drawn toward The Anvil. Harry winced in pain as if each wave of energy was striking him directly.
"Let me through!" I said, pointing toward the house across the estate’s park.
"Inside!" Harry barked, his face pale. "That’s not all of it!"
The park erupted in chaos. Lightning crackled, fire roared, and metal screeched. Pulses of multicolored magic raced along the tree trunks. A large rat bolted into the open, only to hit a steel seal head-on. Gray, half-meter-long spikes shot up from the ground, tearing it apart. The next rat, however, leapt over the mangled remains.
The rats came in an unbroken stream, triggering and discharging traps and seals at the cost of their bodies.
Harry growled, forcing himself to stand, and summoned his spellbook. Flipping through a couple of pages on the right, he tore out an ether-fire spell, threw it onto the gravel in front of the house, and clenched his fist.
The spell detonated with a soft pop, sending waves of fine, fiery threads outward. They carved shallow grooves into the rats’ bodies but dropped them dead on the spot.
"Inside, you idiots!" Harry shouted, unable to hold out any longer as he collapsed to one knee again.
Bryan and I grabbed him under the arms and dragged him into the house. The doors slammed shut behind us on their own, the locks clicking into place with an audible snap.
"That way!" Harry rasped, pointing toward the door to the hall.
We swiftly maneuvered him toward the doorway, from which bursts of metal, ether, and an unfamiliar, foreign death magic were spilling. My own heart skipped a beat when the lacquer on the floorboards beneath us disintegrated into powder.
"Stop!"
The wizard shook off our support with surprising determination, though he still wobbled on his feet. His face had gone ghostly pale, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Spreading his arms wide, he unleashed a surge of force that tore the doors clean off their hinges.
The doors flew past us, landing with a thundering crash on the far side of the hall.
For the first time, I saw the room where Harry worked his magic.
It was a vast chamber filled with shelves lined with energy-storing stones, the floor and ceiling marked by intricate, multi-layered seals. Torrential streams of elemental power surged through the seals, forming a column of light that only occasionally burst beyond its bounds.
Ether and metal churned so densely within the column that it looked like you could swim through them. The earth magic I’d seen earlier was absent, but streaks of death magic, like white scars, poisoned the flow generously.
"Where’s the anchor?" I asked. There had to be a physical object to focus and control such a massive flow of energy.
"I am the anchor," Harry replied.
In that instant, it all made sense – why the ritual was taking so long, why the wizard couldn’t leave this place, and why the death magic in the flow was affecting him so severely. If it were a mineral geode acting as the anchor, as was usually the case, the death magic would have far less impact. But then Harry would have needed a dozen experienced mages to manage the flow. Instead, he had done it all himself, staking his own life in the process.
Responding to Harry’s gestures, the power of metal swirled like smoke, binding the death energy and collecting it into a ring near the ceiling. The wizard exhaled with relief, but the magic streams constantly strained against the seals, crackling and kicking up dust from the floor.
"The system is destabilized. If it’s not fixed, there won’t be much left of the mansion. Nathan!"
"Sir?" piped up Cap, who appeared at the top of the staircase.
"Emergency! Do as instructed!"
"But where’s Klint?" the boy hesitated.
"At the police station," I barked. "Do as you’re told!"
The kid practically vanished, blown away from the stairs by my tone. I turned back to Harry.
"What exactly are the instructions?"
"A secret," Harry said, his tone sharp. "But even if this place blows to hell, he’ll stay safe." He paused, grabbing a flare of ether magic that had escaped one of the seals and forcing it back into place. "I don’t know how long I can keep this contained. Just hold on. And this should improve your chances."
Harry reached for his spellbook again and began casting forms of magic at us with a generous hand.
A tingling sensation spread over my skin, my head spun, and my body was filled with a lightness and strength I hadn’t felt even from Bremor’s finest potions.
Behind Harry, the energy column flared violently with plumes of raw magic. The air itself buzzed like a hurricane, its sharp-edged streams slicing clean through two shelves and the reservoir stones they held.
At the same time, the front door began to rattle under a rapid, relentless pounding.
Harry waved his hand, and instead of the book, two rune-covered rods appeared, floating in the air before him.
The first was long and knotted, resembling a polished root of some ancient tree, glowing faintly with ether. The second was a slender iron, etched with dark, razor-sharp sigils of steel.
Harry seized both rods and whirled to face the ritual seals.
Another flare of ether protuberance lashed out; he caught it with the wooden staff. A surge of metal energy followed, and he bound it with the iron rod.
"Catch!" Harry shouted, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.
He hurled the rods over his shoulder, but neither Bryan nor I managed to catch them. We scrambled to pick them up from the floor.
"What are these?" I asked, but Harry had already stepped into the seal, his movements slowing as he drifted toward the center of the energy vortex.
The only thing I noticed was the faint streams of magic stretching from the energy column to the rods, like… like ammo belts feeding a machine gun.
The pounding on the door intensified, now sounding like a deluge of pebbles poured from a bucket. Then came the grating of claws, the shriek of a rooster, and the high-pitched squealing of pigs.
Nervously, I swung the staff Harry had given me, and to my surprise, it blasted apart a floorboard two meters in front of me.
Bryan caught on and tried the same. The plank in front of him shattered as if struck by an axe. Ether and steel – telekinesis and blades. The spells were crude, terrifyingly energy-intensive, but effective, as blunt and destructive as a sledgehammer.
Maybe it was Harry’s magic, or maybe we’d simply lost our minds, but Bryan and I started laughing like maniacs.
At that moment, a massive bird slammed into the window. The barrier held firm, but fire soon spread across the glass, bullets rattling against it in rapid succession. Finally, the same damn bird managed to break through.
Simultaneously, Bryan and I swung our staves, smashing and slicing the bird in half.
A bird? No, a rooster.
More bloodthirsty cackling followed, and then a horde of chickens dove at the window, claws scratching furiously at the glass. Rats surged in behind them, their red eyes glowing in the dim light.
Without thinking, Bryan and I moved in sync, twirling the rods like clockwork, piling up a mound of rat and chicken corpses beneath the window.
But the pressure on the door was intensifying. The blows no longer sounded like scattered pebbles; it was as if someone was pounding the wood with a battering ram. Or firing an old cannon. Only the magical barrier kept the onslaught at bay.
While we were holding our own against the chickens – despite their heads snapping at us with razor-sharp beaks – the rats were another story. The agile little bastards managed to dart closer. And I can confidently say, no ordinary rodents have glowing red eyes like those or fangs sharp enough to pierce boots.
Whoever was behind this had deliberately created and unleashed these monstrous hybrids.
The front door exploded into splinters.
A massive pig stormed through the gap, charging straight into the line of ether. I brought the blunt force of my rod down on its head, slamming its crimson eyes and oversized tusks into the floor. The pig flipped over from the force of the blow.
Bryan struck next, slashing open its belly and spilling its guts onto the floor. But the cursed creature scrambled back to its hooves, trampling its own intestines as it lunged toward me.
A bullet to the forehead finally stopped its charge, but not for long. Behind it came another pig. And another. Bryan swept low, severing their front legs with the precision of a butcher, while I aimed shot after shot at their heads.
Rats, chickens, pigs… Had someone opened a portal to a hellish farm?
The pigs distracted us from the rats. A pair managed to sneak up on Bryan, sinking their teeth into his boot and calf. With a swing of his staff, McLilly reduced them to nothing but heads still clamped around his leg. Their jaws remained locked tight, even as their bodies were gone.
The flood of creatures became overwhelming, forcing Bryan to unleash a lightning bolt from the rod hidden in his sleeve. That’s the thing I love about lightning – It doesn’t need precision at close range.
The electrical charge leapt out of the window, hit one rat, jumped to another, zapped a chicken, and so on, frying everything in the stream of beasts trying to pour through the window. Not a single critter was spared.
I wanted to crush the convulsing carcasses littering the floor underfoot, but the chaos at the door demanded my attention.
A relentless tide of monstrosities poured in. I swung my rod like a hammer, trying to expand the area of effect for the ether press. The rats were flattened into pancakes, while the chickens mostly avoided me – though a few piglets and rabbits weren’t so cautious.
The rabbits were the worst – fast, vicious, and baring fangs like Lucas Lindemann on a bad day. Only the shield from my enchanted ring kept them from ripping out my throat.
Fangs. They all had fangs.
A rabid dog burst through the door, its blood-red eyes locking on me. I hit it with an ether hammer, shattering its bones, but it didn’t stop. The creature kept crawling toward me, its body twisted and broken.
Something glowed beneath its collar.
I grabbed it with telekinesis, yanking it upward – and immediately recognized the Fairburn Sphere. The runes on the sphere began glowing, flooding with ether, ready to release whatever horrifying energy it was containing.
"McLilly!" I shouted, holding the sphere aloft. "Cut it off!"
Bryan swung his staff, severing the dog's collar along with its neck. The head flew off, and I hurled the death-tainted sphere out the window.
The mound of carcasses beneath the window blackened, shriveled, and disintegrated into ash.
A scream erupted from outside, followed by a short burst of gunfire. The bullets shattered the window, but hit no one inside. Then silence.
I guessed I had hit my mark, but saving us all from the sphere’s deadly blast had cost me precious seconds. Three rats took advantage of my lapse, sinking their fangs into my legs.
The first I hurled away with telekinesis – and immediately regretted it as a chunk of flesh remained in its jaws.
Darkness crept into the edges of my vision as I blindly swung my rod, trying to fend off the remaining creatures.
Then, to my astonishment, the wound on my leg sealed itself almost instantly.
Bryan’s lightning rod finally fizzled out, but the tide of beasts had thinned. The stragglers were mangled by either the transformation or Harry’s traps – singed and slashed, limping cripples, literal halves of animals, and deformed monstrosities. They lacked the speed and ferocity the first wave had demonstrated.
I managed to fend off the remaining rats, carefully crushing the heads of the ones still latched onto my leg, though I refrained from pulling them off just yet.
“Did we fight them off?” Bryan asked, swiping at another rat.
The creature’s head hit what looked like empty air to his right. I fired.
The void resolved into a shadow, which Bryan slashed at with his staff, and I spun on my heel, ether hammer raised, checking for another shadow behind me.
Just in time.
The hammer struck the invisible figure, but instead of knocking it back, it pushed it forward. At least the revolver was wrenched from its grip. A dagger slashed across my fingers, forcing me to loosen my hold on the rod. I dropped the weapon and immediately raised my pistol.
The shadow punched me in the gut, solidifying into none other than the sneering Simon.
The blow threw off my aim, and instead of his head, my shot landed in his shoulder, forcing him to drop the dagger.
My FN’s slide locked back, exposing the empty chamber. I didn’t have time to reload.
Simon, meanwhile, slipped on a rat carcass and fell, landing right next to his own revolver.
I stomped on his vile head, then brought the butt of my pistol down hard for good measure. When his hand darted toward the revolver, I crushed it under my heel, hearing the sickening crunch of his fingers. I nearly slipped on them myself but managed to steady my balance.
Yanking out my grandfather’s dagger, I felt Ferrish’s anger and bloodlust surge through the blade.
Simon scrambled to his feet, but I kicked him hard in the stomach. He slammed into the wall but used the momentum to dart past me, earning only a gash on his forearm. I grabbed him by the hair before he could escape, yanking him back and pressing the dagger to his throat.
“Stop!” Valentine’s voice boomed.
My dagger froze a hair’s breadth from Simon’s neck as I glanced at the vampire. His hand was wrapped tightly around Bryan’s throat.
Simon laughed, a guttural, mocking sound that forced me to press harder. The blade nicked his skin, and he choked on his laughter.
“You’re such a loser, Duncan,” he rasped.
“Says the man with a blade at his throat,” I shot back, locking eyes with Bryan.
There was no fear in his gaze.
With just his lips, he mouthed, “Do it.”
Comments
Jonathan Griffith
Tyftc!
