Scholar of Magic (Art of the Adept #3) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,78

“All right. I’d better get to work then,” said Will. Following Arrogan’s advice, he summoned the big water jar and dumped it out. Then he used the butt of the spear to shepherd one of the now-separate piles of vampire pieces into it. That done, he stood the jar up and used one of his spare school tunics to cover the top before tying it shut. He sent the jar back into storage and then took a few steps back from the remaining flesh pile. With a thought, he summoned the alchemical firebomb and tossed it at the pile before moving even farther back.

“Watch out,” he cautioned Tiny, who started to step forward, curious as to what he was doing. “It’s about to—”

“Damn it!” yelled the big man. He was far enough back to be safe, but the sudden eruption of flames had startled him. “Warn me next time!”

“—burst into flames,” finished Will, giggling with nervous laughter. The macabre events were beginning to take a toll on his nerves.

Chapter 17

There was a strange scene unfolding at the Nerrow house as Will and Tiny returned to check on Darla and the baron. Agnes was back at the front door, this time joined by both Laina and Tabitha. All three of them had tear-stained cheeks.

Darla knelt on the path from the door to the gate, her head bowed, while Mark Nerrow stood over her, his sword raised as he prepared to strike. Arrogan’s advice was still fresh on Will’s mind, and he realized immediately what must be happening. “Wait!” he yelled.

The sword came down in a blurring arc but stopped when it met Will’s point-defense shield just above the Arkeshi’s bare neck. The baron turned to face them as they entered the yard, a look of fury on his face, as well as a few tears of his own. “Stay out of this, William. You don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“The hell I don’t,” snapped Will. “She can be saved.” As his eyes studied Darla, he saw a nasty cut that ran from the woman’s forearm to the back of her right hand. Ugly black veins stood out around the wound.

“There is no cure for the poison of the Drak’shar,” intoned the stone-faced assassin, slowly drawing her own blade. “The Arkeshi know this better than any still living.”

It was obvious she intended to finish the job herself. Will glanced at Tiny and cut his eyes to the left, indicating the big man should try to flank Laina’s bodyguard, then he focused his attention on Darla. “Then your teachers need to do some research. Alchemy has long been able to cure the disease, if the curative is given quickly enough.”

“William, you need to leave her be. The king’s instructions were very clear, and Darla agrees with them as well,” warned the baron. His eyes were watching Will’s hands, where a new spell was forming. Though his words seemed to agree with Darla, there was an undertone of uncertainty in his voice, or perhaps hope.

Darla could see what Tiny was trying to do, and she began edging to one side, keeping her knife between herself and the massive warrior while she worked up her nerve to reverse the blade and put an end to her life.

Just wait a few seconds longer, thought Will as the spell came together. Then it was ready. Something in his posture must have given him away, for Darla flipped her dagger and made to drive it home. Tiny lunged, trying to catch her wrist, but she was too quick and dodged to one side—before slowly slumping to the ground as Will’s sleep spell took hold.

Will looked at his father, who hadn’t tried to interfere. “You believed me?”

“I just don’t want to kill her. My gut tells me you’re offering a fool’s hope, but I’ll take it. If whatever you’ve got doesn’t work, then I’ll still have to—” Mark Nerrow made a reluctant chopping gesture with his sword.

“A blood-cleanse potion can stop the change, if it’s given within an hour,” explained Will.

“And you learned this where?” asked his father.

“From someone who actually fought these things the last time they crawled out of the shadows. Can we take her inside?”