The Unwilling Aviator (Book 4) (19 page)

The man lifted his other hand and Fred felt invisible fingers grip his collar. He yelped as he was lifted off his feet and suspended two feet in the air. He grasped his collar, but there was nothing to grip. His disguise as Crash also fell, revealing his true self as one very terrified young man.

"L-let go of me!" he choked out.

Fred floated over to the figure who examined the young man. "When were you born, boy?" he asked him.

"On my birthday," Fred quipped. He gasped when the grip on his collar tightened.

"Answer me, boy," the stranger demanded.

"I-I don't know. Sixteen years ago," Fred guessed.

The man raised his free hand and brushed it against the side of Fred's face. Fred shuddered at the clammy feel of the wrinkled skin. When the man next spoke his low voice trembled. "Yes, I feel it now. The Stones were not wrong. Your soul is the same." The man's hand shook as he stroked Fred's face and the stranger's voice was filled with a strong passion of possession. "You are mine."

"What are you talking about?" Fred gasped.

The old man paused, and then leaned forward toward Fred. A pair of sharp, dark eyes looked out from the darkness of the hood and surveyed the young man. "Who are you?"

"Not yours," Fred shot back.

Fred heard a hiss escape his captor's lips and the grip on his throat tightened. "Your eyes are wrong." The invisible hands roughly shook Fred. "Why are your eyes wrong?"

"They're just my eyes," Fred insisted.

The man paused, and all that was heard was his harsh breathing. "You are him, and yet you are not, but the soul is the same and that is all I need." He reached into his white robe and pulled out a small, simple wooden box hewn from a dark-barked tree. The man held it in his open palm in front of Fred and the lid opened itself.

Fred's eyes widened when his body glowed like a thousand lit candles. The light was an extension of himself and mirrored the look of his body, but he realized the figure somehow looked older and taller. He felt he was seeing himself in a few years rather than who he was now.

His skin warmed and his vision changed. Instead of seeing through one set of eyes he now had two. The new pair of eyes belonged to the ghostly light around him, and it saw the world as a place covered in patches of light and dark. A deep, impenetrable darkness surrounded the man in front of him. The shadow twisted and bent as though surrounded in a perpetual wind of malice.

An agonizing pain shot through his body as the light around him was pulled toward the small box. Fred felt as though all his muscles and nerves were being torn from him. He struggled anew to free himself, but the invisible hand held him tight. The light over his body arched upward and down toward the open lid. Through both visions Fred could see the man's pale lips twisted into a cruel, eager grin.

A fireball flew over the shoulder of the stranger. It hit and knocked down the box, and the wooden container clattered to the ground. Another fireball slammed into the stranger's back and he staggered forward. Fred felt the invisible hand vanish and he dropped to the ground. The light wrapped back around his body and most of the pain subsided, but he still had double vision.

The robed man swung around and growled. Fred coughed and raised his head to see Ned and Pat standing at the head of the alley. Ned had his staff pointed at them and he looked at the stranger with a venomous expression.

"Interrupting again?" the man hissed.

Ned replied with a hail of fireballs. The burning balls rushed toward the stranger, but the man raised Fred's staff and brought up a barrier. The fireballs crashed into the magical wall and the impact dented the walls of the buildings on either side of them. Fred ducked and put his arms over his head as debris from the damaged mud walls rained down on him. Ned didn't let up his barrage, but threw a larger attack at the stranger. The man blocked them as before, but the impact slid his feet back a yard so he stood beside Fred. Ned fired more groups, again and again. The stranger slid farther and farther down the alley.

Ned looked to Pat. "Retrieve Fred!" he ordered her.

Pat nodded and squished herself against the wall of the right-hand building to avoid Ned's fireballs. Fred lifted his head and saw her move slowly toward him. His body was sore and still surrounded by the brilliant light, but he crawled through the mud toward her. They reached each other and Pat set her hands on his glowing shoulders. She gasped when her hands felt the soft warmth that emanated off his body.

"Oh Fred," she whispered.

He shakily grinned at her. "Could we talk about this later?" he hoarsely whispered.

Pat nodded and lifted him to a seated position. She grasped his hands, and prepared to lean him against her and pull him toward Ned.

The stranger saw their reunion and trembled with rage. A dark shadow slipped from his pale hand that held Fred's staff and wrapped itself around the wood. The man pounded the ground and the area was shaken by an earthquake. The dry ground trembled and cracked open, and dark shadows leapt out from the holes. Spikes shot from the cracked earth beneath Ned and he jumped back in time to avoid being impaled. The spikes were angled so their points faced Pat and Fred. Ned destroyed several of the spikes with his magic, but they were replaced and even doubled by the magic sunk into the earth beneath them by the earthquake.

The stranger's cold eyes glared at the pair of friends, and he thickened the barrier in front of him so it stretched across the whole of the alley and above the rooftops. Then he pushed it forward with his hands and it charged toward them companions. It reached Fred and passed through him without effect, but when it hit Pat she felt the barrier strike her with the force of brick wall. They were broken apart and Pat was knocked backward by the wall of magic. The force dragged her feet on the ground and pushed her toward the spikes.

Fred leapt forward and just missed one of her hands. Ned threw his flaming arsenal through the regenerating spikes and at the barrier, and it broke into a thousand small, sparkling shards. Pat fell hard to the ground and whipped her head up to Fred. He grimaced and struggled toward her while she crawled back to him.

The stranger threw another wall, this one faster. Fred reached Pat and turned to see the wall barreling down on him. He pulled Pat toward him and pressed her against his chest, covering her with his body. The barrier swept over him, but stuck between the pair. It tried to pull Pat into the spikes, but Fred grasped her and dug his heels into the dirt. Slowly they were both pulled along the ground toward the sharp rocks, and with each foot of distance they picked up speed.

Pat tried to pull away from him, but he held onto her. "Let go!" she yelled at him.

"No!" he refused.

"Let go or we'll both die!"

"I'm not letting you go!" he shouted. Fred clenched his teeth and the brilliant light around him pulsed with energy. It pressed against the barrier between Pat and him, and cracks appeared in the magical wall. The spikes behind them came closer and closer. Two yards. Two feet. Fred shut his eyes and prepared for pain.

Through his eyelids Fred beheld a brilliant flash of light, and a warmth washed over them. The barrier between them exploded into powder and they were pelted with rock. Fred opened his eyes and saw they were surrounded by a thick cloud of dust. He couldn't see more than a foot around them.

Pat lifted her head and coughed. "What happened?" she asked him.

"I don't know, but I think we're-" From the dust cloud behind him emerged the robed figure.

Pat's eyes widened and she tried to pull Fred back, but the man caught the light that still surrounded Fred. He yanked hard on the light and Fred cried out in pain. The man pulled out a pair of golden shears and snipped off the part he held. Fred screamed and collapsed to the ground writhing in pain. The stranger pocketed his golden treasure in the wooden box and slipped back into the dusty mist.

"Fred? Pat?" Ned called out.

Pat scurried over over to Fred and pulled him into her lap. He was half conscious and his teeth were clenched. "Over here!" she shouted.

The dust was blown away by a strong gust of wind and Ned shuffled forward. His clothes were covered in dirt and his hat was askew. He saw Fred's tortured face and pulsing light, and hurried over to them. "What happened?"

"The man took a part of Fred's light," Pat replied.

Ned knelt beside the boy and hovered his hand over the light. He frowned and struggled to his feet. "I'm as weak as a babe, so you'll have to take charge of him and help him back to the inn."

"What about the other castor and Fred's staff?" Pat asked him.

Ned glanced across the distance of the alley and nodded at a pair of broken sticks. "Fred's staff is over there, and I don't believe our enemy will return. Not this night. I will grab it while you help Fred."

Pat slung one of Fred's arms over her own and with Fred's help she pulled him to his feet. The three of them shuffled through the dark alley and toward the inn.

CHAPTER 22

The three made their way back to the tavern, but were interrupted when a shadow swooped over them as they hurried through another alley. Pat pulled Fred into the shadows of a nearby building and Ned grasped his staff. The shadow dropped in front of them and showed herself to be Ruth. The three battle-weary companions sighed and relaxed.

"What happened? What was that light?" Ruth asked them.

"An altercation between castors, but we must get Fred to the inn," Ned told her.

Ruth saw his ashen face and she looked to Pat. "You are exhausted. I will take him the rest of the way," she promised.

Pat reluctantly handed over Fred and Ruth easily lifted him into her arms. The four friends hurried to the inn, but Ned stopped them before they reached the front door. "The rear entrance will be much quieter and easier to navigate," he pointed out.

Ned led the other three through the alley and to the weathered door at the rear of the building. They took the rickety old staircase upstairs and to their hall. They entered Ned and Fred's room, and Ruth gently lowered Fred onto the bed. The young man's face was pale and he trembled as though with fever.

Pat sat on the edge of the bed beside Fred and grasped Fred's hand. His skin was cold. She looked to Ned. "What's wrong with him?"

Ned frowned and lowered the head of his staff so the stone rested in his open palm. "His soul was pulled from his body and part of it cut from him. In such a state the soul senses it is vulnerable and burns brightly to protect itself from further harm." Ruth's eyes widened.

Pat shuddered. "My god," she murmured

"We have no need of a god. Merely a bit of skill and luck," Ned replied. The stone in Ned's hand brightened and illuminated the dark room. "Hold him still. This will hurt him," he instructed Pat.

Ruth took hold of Fred's legs. Pat pinned his arms to the bed and watched Ned step forward and hover the stone over the young man's pale face.

"What are you going to do to him?" Pat asked him.

"A jolt of soul magic. Think of it as glue to bind the soul to the body," he replied.

Pat frowned. "I've never heard of such a thing done before," she commented.

"That is likely. It's an ancient castor spell that very few know and even fewer can master, but we haven't time for an intellectual discussion. Hold him still," Ned ordered her.

Ned touched the tip of his staff against Fred's forehead. The light from the stone eased into the young man's body. Fred's eyes shot open and he let out a garbled scream. He thrashed and kicked with the strength of several men, and Pat and Ruth were hard-pressed to hold him to the bed. Ned grabbed hold of Fred and helped them keep him down. After a long half a minute Fred arched his back, let out another strangled scream, and collapsed onto the bed.

Pat leaned back breathing hard and Ruth stepped to the edge of the bed. Ned stumbled backwards into the chair beside the bed. He leaned on his staff while his hands wrapped around his staff violently shook. "He will be fine now," Ned wheezed.

"Was that necessary?" Pat asked him.

Ned gave a nod. "Quite necessary. A detached soul is like a blazing candle. It burns the brightest, but is soon extinguished."

"What does that mean for Fred?" Ruth spoke up.

"It means the candle of his life was quickly being snuffed out," Ned told her.

The color drained from the faces of the two young women. "You mean he was dying?" Pat asked him.

Ned chuckled. There wasn't any mirth in the sound. "We are all dying, my dear Pat, but to answer your question, yes. Fred was dying at a much faster rate than was normal."

Pat's eyes widened and she whipped her head back to Fred. "How much faster?"

He stood and set a hand on her quivering shoulder. "Not by a great amount. We were fortunate to catch it before he worsened."

"But how long?" she insisted.

"A year or two of his life was extinguished."

Pat shuddered and clasped one of Fred's hands in hers. "Do you believe that castor will return?"