The High-Wizard's Hunt - By Ashley Delay Page 0,69

shaking of his tongue and wore it raw while trying to free himself. His final push forced the vile taste over his lips, and one final shake till it dropped from his chin to his chest.

“Eo ire itum,” Osric whispered. He found himself standing a few feet away, facing the door. He turned, rubbing his sore wrists and exhausted beyond reason, to face Kenneth. Quickly he tore the gag away and shook his unconscious, restrained friend. Kenneth stirred, wide eyed and favoring his right side.

“Well,” Kenneth forced a weak smile, “did you bring me some dinner?”

“I will buy you whatever you want, just as soon as we get out of here.” Osric held Kenneth’s arm and spoke softly again, “Eo ire itum.”

They stood in front of the table as the restraints clamored against the stone wall, and Osric helped Kenneth to the chair. The pain from his beating was obvious as he cradled his ribs. Osric grabbed a dusty bowl from the shelves behind the table, and held it under the trickle of water to get something for Kenneth to drink.

“This won’t taste very good, but you need to drink,” Osric said after a small amount had been collected.

“Okay, but next time, ask them for some mead to take the edge off, please.”

Osric forced a weak smile and set the bowl down after taking a drink. He watched as Kenneth suffered with each cough while struggling to swallow the water. Osric had a moment of regret that his father had died before his new talent to absorb abilities had developed; he wanted to examine Kenneth for injuries but couldn’t without his father’s gift.

“Let me check your ribs.” Osric motioned for Kenneth to lift his arms.

“They are broken. No need to check them,” Kenneth replied.

“Trust me, lift up your arms.” Osric’s tone, though quiet, was obviously not a request. Kenneth raised his arms and Osric placed his hands over the ribs. He closed his eyes and spoke as silently as he could, “Emendandum.” A warming sensation flowed over his hands, and through them.

“What was that?”

Osric opened his eyes to see amusement on Kenneth’s face. He had spent a lot of time reading the mysterious book that Ero had entrusted to him, and it occurred to him that he had not shared the information he learned with Kenneth.

“It was one of the spoken spells I can remember from the book.” Osric took his hands off of Kenneth’s chest and shrugged. “So, how do you feel?”

“Well,” Kenneth stood slowly, running his hands over his shirt, “I think his effort to tenderize me worked.” He cleared his throat, testing the extent of the spell’s effectiveness. “I’m not quite ready to dance, but coughing won’t hurt nearly as bad as it did a moment ago.”

Osric packed up his sword, and all of his supplies that were left on the table. Everything, that is, except his wand. Curiosity got the better of him as he wondered why they would leave the supplies in the room with them, but he was grateful for their lack of planning as he pocketed the book.

“Great, then what do you say we get out of here so I can buy you that steak?” Osric helped Kenneth to his feet. “I could use a few glasses of mead myself, and I think I owe you a drink at The Rusty Wagon, anyway.”

“Well then, let’s get going. I need a softer bed than this place has to offer, but the scars should get me some much appreciated attention from Jane.”

Osric steadied Kenneth and supported him as they turned to the door. He pictured Stanton in his mind, and as he spoke the spell, the familiar sensations began. A sudden jerk, and the feeling of being dragged backward sent his mind racing with panic. A sharp, crushing pain coursed through his face and consciousness slipped away rapidly, leaving nothing but a cold, familiar blackness to end his pain.

Chapter 15

____________

Magical Musings

Bridgett closed the book she was holding and placed it on the table in front of her. She could remember Eublin reading those same tales to her when she first came to the Grove. She had always thought of them as myths, children’s stories, and Eublin had seemed like an eccentric, old uncle who believed in the impossible. Having seen what she had over the past few weeks with Osric, though, she was beginning to reassess what Eublin’s tales might mean for the uses of magic. It had been years since she had read Eublin’s