Magic's Design Read Free Page B

across his face. The opponent then found purchase in his hair and his skull was slammed against the stone floor hard enough for him to see stars. Blood from the scratches stung his eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t use the same techniques, since his job was to bring the prisoners back to their cells generally unharmed. Still, he could certainly defend himself, and he doubted his superiors would object to a somewhat vigorous defense, considering the heinous crimes the prisoners were convicted of.
    He punched and kicked blindly, giving as good as he got. The battle was more difficult than it normally would be, since not only was it pitch black, but he had to keep one hand free to attach the cuff when he found an opening. Unfortunately, the man’s arms were well covered with thick leather all the way down to his fingers, and the cuff had to touch bare skin. He swung his free arm backward and connected with what felt like the man’s stomach with his elbow. He put enough force behind the blow to make the man exhale air in a whoosh. But then a sharp blow to Tal’s mouth from what felt like a knee made him taste blood. The scent of rank sweat and his opponent’s foul breath made him want to heave, but at last, he found an ankle that was barren of cloth. He slapped the cuff against the ankle and knew it had locked when a quiet humming reached his ears.
    “Bastard!” The man howled in pain and annoyance just before shoving Tal completely off and shaking his leg, trying to stop the charm’s stinging.
    Tal watched carefully, waiting for the slow, pale blue light that would begin to chew away at the darkness. Seconds later, charm met spell and although the mage tried to cover the cuff with clothing and hide in comers, the whole purpose of the charm was to prevent that. Thankfully, the cavern was somewhat secluded and there was only one exit.
    Tal’s eyes grabbed onto what light the cuff provided to look around. The first thing he saw was the lifeless body of the illusionist on the ground. His skin had blackened and was oozing yellowish pus. But that made no sense. Sela hadn’t finished the curse. If she had, she’d be just as dead as this criminal. The Befouler curse was a last-ditch death curse that pulled the life energy from the caster to kill another. But it killed both. Tal couldn’t imagine why his comrade would have lost her control enough to consider it. This was certainly critical, but not worth her life.
    Movement to his left pulled his eyes away. A tall man with arms crossed over his chest stared down at him with an amused expression. Recognition blazed and Tal felt an immediate hatred for the man. He’d been only a child when last he saw this face—twisted with anger and hate as he was hauled by thick chains through the smoking wasteland that had been the village of Blackshear. Tal’s parents were buried there, along with half of the populace of the village. Unfortunately, Vegre’s arrogance hadn’t changed a bit, despite centuries in prison. As Tal suspected, there was no cuff glowing on his ankle.
    With frightening speed that the old mage shouldn’t have been capable of, he spit the word, “Pryval.” Tal felt his body freeze in place, every muscle becoming rigid except his throat and mouth. That was odd and spoke of a very carefully laid spell.
    Vegre regarded him for a long moment, before grabbing his wrist. He pulled up the sleeve and twisted it sharply, making Tal hiss in pain. The mage’s eyes lit up at the sound and then he smiled, revealing darkened stumps of teeth in several places. “As I suspected … a mage, but not a craftmaster. Still, it’s gratifying to know the academy is teaching young constables to think on their feet. But surely you didn’t believe I would sully myself with fisticuffs?”
    Tal couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice when he responded. “Of course not. Why would I expect that you’d do something yourself when you can risk a mindless lackey’s life