Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Mirrorworld Book 2: The Magick Earth
    Mirrorworld Book 2: The Magick Earth
    Mirrorworld Book 2: The Magick Earth
    Ebook361 pages4 hours

    Mirrorworld Book 2: The Magick Earth

    By Ethan Somerville

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Companions Netta, Bobby, Raven and Jeanne use Raven's Eidolon to follow the evil wizard Stormwalker to the Magick Earth, where they hope to finally catch him and bring him to justice. However, as soon as they arrive the Earl of De Laney City has them all thrown in gaol for the abduction of his daughter, Jeanne.

    While the companions are languishing in the earl's fetid prison, Stormwalker butchers the old man and his sons are forced to release Raven and his friends so they can continue their quest. They enlist the help of a mysterious Elven mage named Giltherion to help track the vile wizard.

    Then they learn that Stormwalker has fled De Laney City.

    Raven and his friends are forced to take a perilous sea-journey across the world, all the way to the Magick Earth's New York. While the travellers take advantage of the long journey to learn magic, hone their fighting skills and regain lost fitness, Stormwalker's forgotten past finally starts to catch up with him.

    Stormwalker arrives in New York haunted by images from his shattered childhood. He remembers Giltherion and realises he is the key. He captures the Elven wizard to interrogate him, then sends a message to Raven, calling for a final confrontation.

    However Stormwalker's dark plan is not to fight Raven, but to sacrifice him to the Storm.

    Also available in this series:
    Mirrorworld Book1; Eidolon

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStorm Publishing
    Release dateJul 11, 2014
    ISBN9781310168031
    Mirrorworld Book 2: The Magick Earth
    Author

    Ethan Somerville

    Ethan Somerville is a prolific Australian author with over 20 books published, and many more to come. These novels cover many different genres, including romance, historical, children's and young adult fiction. However Ethan's favourite genres have always been science fiction and fantasy. Ethan has also collaborated with other Australian authors and artists, including Max Kenny, Emma Daniels, Anthony Newton, Colin Forest, Tanya Nicholls and Carter Rydyr.

    Read more from Ethan Somerville

    Related to Mirrorworld Book 2

    Titles in the series (4)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Fantasy For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      100-WORD-STORY COMPETITION Winners

      Aug 16, 2022

      We’ve been delighted by the huge response to our 100-word-story competition. The entries have flooded in thick and fast during the past few months, but while we’ve enjoyed reading every story, only a few can come out on top! You, our readers, voted t

      5 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems by Phillip B. Williams

      Dec 15, 2017

      The masters are yet dead. Wanting to be human,I tried to rewrite The Waste Land. The canon’s reachcasts ruinous light. The masters’ pens breachthis page where, above, my own hand spectates. Babylonrisen, exorcism in reverse, whose nature upended now?

      6 min read

    • Article

      Crescent City

      Dec 1, 2021

      Crescent City
      5 min read

    • Article

      Towns Like Ours

      May 3, 2018

      Towns Like Ours
      9 min read

    • Article

      Perfect Prose II

      May 15, 2020

      Perfect Prose II
      4 min read

    • Article

      Magnets: Carried through time, lovers seek their purpose.

      Feb 6, 2014

      Moon Colony B, 2213 Former Ponzi-schemer Mary Pillar digs through a trashcan. It smells like rotten eggs and milk. She is elderly and homeless, living in an alley between two eco-efficient skyscrapers. Dust particles dance around her. She has lost ev

      11 min read

    • Article

      The Witch Finders

      Jul 16, 2020

      Beth pulled her cloak tightly around her. It was the very last day of October and the air was damp and chill. Dead autumn leaves lay in deep piles in the woods and smoke curled into the night air from her cottage. Not far to go now. She bent her head

      4 min read

    • Article

      The Symmetry Of Ruby Margot

      Feb 6, 2020

      The Symmetry Of Ruby Margot
      10 min read

    • Article

      Trent Dalton On Heroes And Hope

      Sep 13, 2020

      THE HEROES NEVER changed form. Always flesh and blood; arms and legs and beating hearts as wide as this country. It was the villains who kept morphing on me. I once thought the bad guys all dressed like Darth Vader. Then I learned that the villains i

      8 min read

    • Article

      In The Spotlight: Your Writing Genre - Busting

      Apr 4, 2024

      What an inventive lot the WM writers proved themselves to be with the ‘Genre-busting' submission call! The response was terrific, with a postbag full of playful, off-the wall writing that read as if its creators had a gonzo riot mashing up elements f

      5 min read

    • Article

      Marco

      Mar 1, 2022

      THE ALLEY STANK . Marco could feel the damp soaking into his tunic as he pressed his back against the wall, trying to seem like part of the shadows. He cursed himself. How could he have been so stupid? He knew if he stayed out after dark they might f

      6 min read

    • Article

      Paws For Thought

      Jul 30, 2023

      Paws For Thought
      2 min read

    • Article

      Ready, Set, Let go!

      May 15, 2019

      Ready, Set, Let go!
      11 min read

    • Article

      Shelter

      May 28, 2022

      Shelter
      4 min read

    • Article

      Wayétu Moore

      Jun 15, 2018

      Lai was hidden in the middle of forests when the Vai people found it. There was evidence of earlier townsmen there, as ends of stoneware and crushed diamonds were found scattered on hilltops in the unexpected company of domestic cats. But when the Va

      29 min read

    • Article

      Sweet Fantasy

      Nov 20, 2021

      Sweet Fantasy
      8 min read

    • Article

      Muslim With Dog

      May 1, 2020

      Muslim With Dog
      2 min read

    • Article

      The Very Wicked Witch and the Village Play

      Oct 1, 2019

      The Very Wicked Witch and the Village Play
      4 min read

    • Article

      Dark Tales

      Dec 2, 2021

      Dark Tales
      6 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Jan 1, 2021

      Light delimits the darkness as snowgives shape to the silence of winter trees.Above a rooftop, the shadow of illness hoversindistinguishable from the wraithsof common chimney smoke.Strip skin from flesh, flesh from boneto behold the comical, adumbrat

      4 min read

    • Article

      Campfire Tales…

      Nov 19, 2021

      Campfire Tales…
      3 min read

    • Article

      TheBattle For Peace

      Nov 1, 2021

      Hi, I am Alice, welcome to my nightmare. Trouble always finds me. I was one of the one hundred people in this world who had magic running through my veins. I was placed in the school of magic. It was sick! You could learn to brew up good potions for

      4 min read

    • Article

      Ursula K. Le Guin

      Jun 15, 2018

      He was thinking of Lookfar, abandoned long ago, beached on the sands of Selidor. Little of her would be left by now, a plank or two down in the sand maybe, a bit of driftwood on the western sea. As he drifted near sleep he began to remember sailing t

      15 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Mirrorworld Book 2

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Mirrorworld Book 2 - Ethan Somerville

      Mirrorworld Book 2

      The Magick Earth

      Ethan Somerville

      SMASHWORDS EDITION

      * * * *

      PUBLISHED BY:

      Storm Publishing on Smashwords

      Mirrorworld Book 2 – The Magick Earth

      Copyright © 2012/2017 by Ethan Somerville

      www.stormpublishing.net

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

      * * * *

      Chapter 1

      Crossover

      Eight year old Mikey Rivers sprinted for his life through De Laney City’s late night streets, his small bare feet slapping against the damp cobbles. He was running as fast as he could, but still the youths gained on him. He could hear all their angry shouts.

      Yer miserable li’l thief!

      Ye’ll not get far!

      Give us the bird an’ we’ll let ye live!

      Mikey clutched the chicken’s scrawny body even closer to his chest. It had taken all his skill and gumption to swipe this hen - he wasn’t about to return it now! What did they need it for, anyway? They were Marriott’s hoods - the guild-master made sure his boys were fed and clothed.

      But Mikey wanted to stop so badly! He’d been running for what felt like hours, and his lungs ached fit to burst. A metallic taste sullied his mouth, as sour as old blood.

      C’mon brat - all we want is our bird back!

      That voice had come from right over his shoulder. Wanting to throw up, Mikey increased his pace to a last do-or-die escape-attempt. A cross-junction lay ahead - maybe he could lose the hoods down an alley. Breath wheezed from his cold, blue lips in misty clouds as he flew down the left-hand passage, straight into a rubbish-filled dead-end. A black cat shot yowling over a wall, and the little boy yearned for the animal’s athletic skill.

      This wasn’t blocked last week! he thought as he skidded to a stop in front of the rough boards. Dear Jesus help me - Marriott’s thugs will tear me apart!

      Shoving the chicken inside his dirty woollen tunic he whirled around. Four big, beefy fellows carrying short-swords at their waists appeared in the junction. They looked right and left, and then noticed their quarry quaking in the shadows.

      The group’s leader cackled wickedly as he stepped into the street-mouth, blocking Mikey’s last escape route. We said ye couldn’t escape from us! He extended a callused paw. Now pass over the bird.

      Mikey slid a hand into his rope belt, grasping the small, hard hilt of a dagger. He wasn’t giving up his prize without a fight. Drawing the knife with a flourish he cried in a high, wavering voice; Come an’ get it!

      Hooting with laughter, the group leader drew his short-sword. His companions leered and followed suit. Gulping, Mikey felt his bladder start to loosen.

      As they approached, a violent wind rushed past - and suddenly Mikey found himself staring at an empty alley, waving his tiny knife at nothing.

      The four youths had vanished!

      Disbelievingly Mikey searched for his attackers. What happened? he wondered, trying to recover his breath. Then he noticed the alley behind him. It was no longer blocked off by warped boards, but heading towards a T-junction like it was supposed to. However there was something wrong with the surrounding buildings; they looked too clean and dry. And that stink! Usually it was made up of smoke, garbage, and the harbour’s unforgettable aroma. But now the air was full of the foreign odours that sometimes emanated from the elf-mage’s laboratory.

      Cautiously the little boy crept up the open alley towards the junction, looking right and left for his attackers. Maybe one of them’s a novice wizard who just cast a horrible spell over me, he thought uneasily. Everyone knew the ambitious Marriott hired Magick-users to help him.

      Mikey reached the T-junction and checked it out. Still no sign of the youths. What was going on here? There didn’t appear to be a person in sight - or, as he thought about it, any light apart from the distant moon. Where were all the lanterns, candles, cooking fires?

      A distant scream rent the air; a high cry that wailed on and on, regularly rising and falling in volume. Mikey froze in terror. His mother had told him stories about banshees; undead women whose eerie cries from the dark hearts of Irish bogs could paralyse the living. Was he hearing one now?

      Eventually the howl faded into silence, and Mikey found he could move again. The mysterious creature hadn’t noticed him. New purpose in his step he hurried down the right-hand lane towards George Street. He knew the road would be busy, even at this time of night. No-one obeyed curfew in Central De Laney.

      But when he skidded out of the alley-mouth he stopped dead, his little heart racing in horror.

      Something horrible had happened to the street. It had been cleaned up and filled with strange, boxlike beasts with blazing eyes and see-through bellies. Mikey could see people struggling to escape inside them. He looked up at the sky and noticed impossibly high, glittering buildings, roofs disappearing into fog. He screamed in horror.

      Another violent gust of wind buffeted him sideways. He blundered through a fetid puddle of horse-urine.

      Watch where yer goin’, brat! someone growled.

      Mikey looked up as four horses and a huge cart rumbled past. The bright eyed monsters with people in their stomachs had vanished, and George Street lay exactly as he remembered it; filthy, stinking - and lit by candles on window-sills.

      He clapped a tiny hand to his scuttling heart. It was an evil spell, he thought. Thank God I’m free! Realising his pursuers were nowhere in sight, he hurried towards home.

      His poor bedridden mother would finally get the big, hearty meal she deserved.

      Stormwalker had stopped moving at last. Netta stepped in close to make sure. Even though her last shot appeared to have blown away the top half of his face, she wasn’t taking any chances. He had taken two close-range shotgun blasts to the chest and guts, and still risen.

      But the wizard’s head lay in an unrecognisable mess of blood and splattered brains. A large puddle slowly spread around it, soaking into his long blonde braid. Sickened, Netta turned and stumbled away. In a far corner she lost control of her stomach and remained hunched over for a while.

      Netta? a soft voice called. Netta - are you all right?

      She looked up to see Jeanne hovering above, her gentle face filled with concern. Yeah. Something nudged at her mind. Raven! she cried. Holy shit - Stormwalker shot him!

      Bobby’s with him.

      With a supreme effort, Netta pushed herself up and staggered over to the injured bounty-hunter, still sprawled where Stormwalker had dropped him. Bobby was tying a long strip of cloth around one of his thighs. He appeared to have slipped into semi-consciousness. The dark puddles beneath his limbs looked alarmingly large. Oh God! Netta collapsed beside him. One of those bullets must have nicked an artery! Worry rose sickeningly. Raven, can you hear me?

      Her voice seemed to come from a great distance. With a supreme effort, the mercenary turned his head. Netta’s lovely face swam before him, shifting in and out of focus. He longed to succumb to the weariness tugging at his leaden limbs, but he knew if he did he would die. Heal - me, he croaked, his throat and lips dry.

      We’re trying, Netta whispered, tears burning her eyes as she brushed Raven’s dark hair back from his gleaming forehead. But I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of bandages. As soon as you’re stable I’ll call an ambulance-

      She didn’t know what he was he was talking about. Somehow, with seductive darkness snapping at his heels, he would have to explain. No, he whispered, even that word a chore. In my pocket - there’s a vial.

      Bobby cut a large section of cloth from Raven’s blasted kneecap and tore it away. The mercenary howled as sharp fragments of bone ground against each other. More pain jarred through him.

      Shit! Bobby stared down at the wound. The bone had been shattered like a china plate. No way would Raven ever be walking on that knee again. Desperately he looked around for something to use as a splint - and realised with an icy jolt of horror that Stormwalker’s body was gone. Only an enormous bloodstain remained.

      Vial? Netta prompted.

      Aye, Raven gasped. Healing - potion! He dropped his head back on the boards, finally losing the fight. Unconsciousness surged forward, and the steady detachment from pain felt wonderful.

      Jesus Christ! Bobby leapt to his feet in disbelief.

      Netta and Jeanne didn’t hear; too busy rummaging through Raven’s coat pockets. Netta yanked out a handful of tiny stoppered test-tubes. Raven - I’ve found a whole bunch of them! Which one?

      The bounty-hunter only wanted to sleep. The surrounding darkness was devoid of pain. But he couldn’t slip away - not when that insistent voice forced him to balance on a tiny wire. He forced weighty eyelids apart and gazed weakly at the smooth face floating above. He had no idea whose it was, but desperately wished it would go away. It waved a hand in front of his eyes, and between its slender fingers gleamed a collection of vials.

      Which one? Netta cried. I don’t want to give you poison!

      Which vial? They all looked so pretty. If only the nagging woman would pick one herself and leave him alone! He closed his eyes for a moment to think - and unconsciousness snapped its voracious mouth around him and swallowed him whole.

      Jeanne made the decision. Grasping at straws she cried; Healing is white Magick, so give him a white one - quick!

      Netta turned. Are you sure?

      What other choice do you have? He’s gone under completely! Dear God, Jeanne prayed as she stared down at Raven’s pale, flaccid face, please let me be right! What do I know about Magick?

      Raven appeared to be on a one-way journey to the land of no return, a rasping note entering his breath. Hold his nose, Netta ordered.

      Jeanne obeyed as her counterpart poured the thick white liquid down Raven’s throat and closed his mouth. The mercenary’s big body gave a convulsive jerk as it was forced to swallow something unpleasant. The girls released him and sat back, breathing heavily, waiting with their hearts in their mouths. They both played with their amulets, unable to tear their eyes from Raven’s still form.

      Jeanne noticed the healing process begin. Raven’s breaths deepened and evened out, colour returning to his cheeks. I was right! she thought in elation. Thank you God! It’s working, she whispered to Netta in relief.

      Netta couldn’t believe her senses. She blinked back tears.

      Slowly the mercenary opened his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath, a pleasant warmth rushing through his body. The agony in his extremities faded into the background as the powerful Magick destroyed foreign impurities, shifted broken bones back into position and sealed ruptured blood-vessels. The white concoction could heal all bone, muscle and sinew damage, and deaden pain in the process.

      Thank God there wasn’t any internal damage, Raven thought. Only priests - or very experienced Magick healers – could fix damaged organs.

      Thank God you’re all right! Netta gasped.

      Slowly Raven pushed himself up. His shoulder felt stiff and swollen, but at least it worked. Netta extended hands to help him, struggling to hold more tears of relief at bay. In front of Raven she was supposed to be tough, not a snivelling sissy!

      I don’t ever want to get shot again, Raven croaked with feeling. Even though his wounds were almost healed, he would remember that pain for the rest of his life. I was protected by my bracelet’s power, and still injured!

      Plate-mail never did stand up well to bullets, Netta muttered, still trying to hide her tears. That’s why it was phased out. Lucky for Jeanne you got the right potion instead of a gutful of poison!

      What? Raven looked up in horror.

      You fell unconscious before you could tell us which vial to use, Netta continued. I had to rely on Jeanne!

      Oh ... sorry. How did you know?

      Jeanne lowered her eyes. Uh - I didn’t. I ... sort of guessed.

      "You what?" Netta exploded.

      By God’s Blood! Raven clapped a hand to his head. He had come a fraction of an inch from dying. Several of his vials contained deadly toxins, any one of which could have killed him! No, I don’t want to know how you managed to pick the right one!

      Jeanne decided to explain anyway. Because healing is white Magick I told Netta to give you the white potion.

      Raven groaned. Pure luck! Most healing potions aren’t white at all! In fact, I know of a black one! I might even have one on me. He started fumbling through his pockets.

      Raven - it’s over, Netta interrupted. You’re all right. Trying to be reassuring, she patted his arm. Then she turned to her shaking twin. You made an excellent guess. She glanced over her shoulder for the first time since kneeling to help Raven. Waitaminute – where the Hell’s Stormwalker’s body?

      Everyone scanned the room. The huddled, naked girls watched them through stunned eyes, and the security guard’s severed head lay forlornly against the far wall. Their gazes fell upon the enormous blood-puddle where Stormwalker’s body should have been lying. The shotgun Netta had left beside it was gone.

      Oh my God! Jeanne cried.

      Raven leapt to his feet. Bones that were still mending sent strong signals of pain stabbing through him. You must tell me exactly what happened. After Stormwalker shot me, my memory became a little ... patchy. In fact the only things he could recall with any clarity were pain and a hazy image of that grinning mage drawing his foul black sword.

      Netta took a deep breath. As soon as he put his gun away and drew his sword, I charged out and shot him.

      You - you shot him? Raven couldn’t believe it - Netta had saved his life!

      With Dale’s gun.

      How many times?

      Four - as many times as he hit you.

      All right. Urgency entered Raven’s voice. Was - was he holding his sword at the time?

      What difference does it make?

      "Was he holding it?" Raven insisted.

      I think so!

      Raven swore again.

      What is it? Netta demanded, at the end of her tether. She felt cheated.

      His weapon’s an unholy artefact. As long as he carries it in his hand, its power will regenerate him. It must have healed all the damage you caused.

      But - but I made sure I killed him!

      How do you know?

      My last blast hit him in the head! Go take a look. She pointed at the bloodstain. I guarantee Stormwalker’s brains are lying in the middle of it!

      Ugh - no thanks! Jeanne declared.

      But Raven marched over to the dark mark and checked to satisfy his curiosity. When he noticed the mounds of yellowish-green evidence he cursed again. My God - his sword must be powerful enough to bring him back from the dead...!

      No way! Netta exploded. That means he can’t be killed!

      Obviously not while he’s holding onto that weapon, Raven turned from the smear. Waitaminute – where the hell’s Bobby?

      The blood Stormwalker had trailed out the door soon diminished into a thin stream of droplets. Bobby’s heart hammered.

      What the Hell was he trying to accomplish, tracking a psychopathic killer with the power to survive four close-range shotgun blasts? As if one more’s going to hurt him? What if he’s hiding in the darkness up ahead, waiting to chop my head off with that dirty great sword of his?

      Despite the frightening thoughts tearing through his mind, Bobby didn’t slow his pace into the night. Three strong feelings had taken over and combined to keep him moving; fury, duty, and his own long-buried lust for adventure, finally free after the excitement of the past week.

      He had to follow Stormwalker because the wizard had thrown a curse over him. It had kept him awake at nights, causing biting pins and needles.

      Raven couldn’t continue after Stormwalker because he was dying; one of the wizard’s bullets had ruptured a femoral artery. Bobby had tied a tourniquet around the wound, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. Unless he was taken to hospital soon, he would die. Bobby felt sick and wished that he had been nicer to the mercenary. I shouldn’t have fought with him all the time. But now the wounds would never close, and his anger increased. The least I can do is finish his job, he thought darkly.

      Bobby remembered the fateful day he’d decided to stop adventuring and settle down into a more sensible life. He regretted that decision now - it had caused him to miss out on so much excitement.

      He had almost forgotten the thrill; the frantic beating of his heart, the adrenalin rushing through his veins, the thought that he could be hurt, possibly even killed. A monumental task rested on his shoulders, and if he pulled it off he would be a hero.

      The young Bobby’s ambition, before he tumbled from that tree, was to become a fireman. He’d wanted to run into burning buildings, save lives and bathe in loving adoration.

      Gasping for breath, he reached a set of stairs on the other side of the roadway. The blood-trail had been leading towards it, but he could no longer make out any vivid red drops on the concrete.

      Tightening his grip on the shotgun, finger hovering over its trigger, Bobby started up the stairs, ready to shoot at the slightest noise. As soon as Stormwalker shows one sign of his presence he’s history!

      As he reached a landing he heard a deep voice resonating from a room up ahead. He froze, pricking his ears - and noticed it again, a chant steadily increasing in volume.

      He had never heard Stormwalker speak, but he was sure the echoing tones belonged to the evil wizard. What the Hell is he up to? he wondered. If he’s trying to hide from me, he’s not doing a very good job!

      Using his right hand to hold the gun and his left to grope along the dusty wall beside him, Bobby reached a doorway. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, his only light-source a tiny rectangle a whole floor below.

      Stormwalker’s voice had risen to a shout, enabling Bobby to hear exact words. But he couldn’t understand the language. The wizard seemed to be speaking in some guttural foreign tone. Still baffled, the young man pressed his ear to the door. The chant clarified, but its purpose didn’t.

      His chance to be a hero had arrived. He prepared to open the door. Stormwalker’s chant finished with an ecstatic bellow. Bobby closed his fingers around a cold door-handle, turned and pushed. It creaked inwards.

      Right mate - on three. Your chance to kill the bastard properly. One - two- Three! Bobby booted the door in, levelled his shotgun and pulled the trigger.

      Nothing happened.

      Oh shit! He’d forgotten to cock the bloody thing! His neglect would probably be his undoing; he’d just realised why Stormwalker had been chanting.

      He’d been working up a spell, of course!

      Outlined by a flickering glow, Stormwalker stood to the right of the doorway, grinning at the intruder. Even if Bobby had pumped the gun, without aiming he would have simply blasted a hole in the opposite wall.

      His foolish thoughts on heroism gone, Bobby stared at Stormwalker in disbelief. The wizard was covered in blood, but whole. All of his wounds, including the fatal head-shot, had miraculously healed. His illumination came from a bubble of light, six feet in diameter. Lightning danced around its circumference, but its centre lay in darkness.

      What the Hell- Bobby mouthed.

      Too late, said Stormwalker. Ducking his head he stepped into the strange orb.

      Jerking back to life, Bobby struggled with the shotgun, trying to copy Netta’s fluid movements. He managed to fire, but the shot sprayed ineffectually off the globe’s exterior. From inside the mage waved mockingly, and then he dropped out of sight. A glittering shower of sparks followed and the bubble vanished, plunging the room into pitch blackness. Bobby sat down with a bump.

      Cursing like Raven, he picked himself up and shouldered the gun. I had a chance to be a legend and I stuffed it, he thought. Well, at least I’m still alive!

      He headed back down the stairs, his legs trembling. It seemed shock was starting to set in. But a few steps from the bottom his suddenly useless legs slid out from under him. Pins and needles stabbed through the dead limbs. He managed to grab the railing before he could smack his tender tail-bone a second time. Father MacKay’s blessing had finally worn off.

      Bobby! Jeanne cried from the doorway.

      He managed to haul himself upright with shaking hands. He thanked God that the paralysis hadn’t arrived sooner.

      He managed to stumble into Stormwalker’s room before he lost complete control. The girls caught him as he fell. It’s wearing off! he gasped as they helped him sit down against a wall. You’ll be like this in a minute.

      Suddenly Bobby noticed Raven standing over him, coat torn and bloodstained, and jeans in rags. A tourniquet dangled from one hand. Bobby could see no sign of his fatal wounds.

      This proved too much for someone who’d just seen Stormwalker escape, also free of injury. You’re - you’re all right too?

      Of course I’m all right, Raven answered in his usual gruff voice, as though this sort of thing happened all the time. The girls gave me one of my healing potions.

      A - a healing potion?

      Aye. What happened to you?

      Bobby had to kick-start his brain. Er ... I - I followed Stormwalker to a room upstairs, but I couldn’t catch him, he began. He told me I was too late, then jumped into this ... this big glowing bubble.

      Understanding dawned. Raven turned away with a curse

      What does it mean?

      That he’s gone back, Raven growled.

      What? Home? Jeanne gasped, horrified.

      Yes. Raven spun back around, his odd-eyed gaze fixed on Bobby. That was a damn foolish stunt you pulled, going after Stormwalker on your own. He folded his arms.

      I - I thought you were dying, Bobby began, not liking the bounty-hunter’s stern tone.

      Raven knelt down in front of him. You’re damn lucky to be alive, he continued. That vile Magick-user could have torn your soul out!

      What else could I do? Bobby protested, annoyed that Raven was castigating him for his bravery. Let him bloody well escape?

      Then the bounty-hunter did something completely unexpected; he smiled and laid a broad hand on Bobby’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The young man gaped, unable to speak. Raven had never grinned at him before! In fact, Bobby couldn’t ever recall him smiling at anyone! You did exactly what I would’ve done. Perhaps you are like me after all.

      Bobby continued to stare as Raven got up. He couldn’t believe what his double had just told him, and how much effort it must have taken. He actually believes I did something good, he thought. And coming from him, that is high praise indeed! He dropped his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, savouring the mercenary’s poignant words. He mightn’t have emerged a successful champion, but at least he had come out as someone.

      Too immersed in his thoughts, he hardly noticed the girls sink down beside him, their blessings also wearing off. Soon their pins and needles grew so bad they had to gnaw their lips to keep from crying out. Tears trickled down Jeanne’s cheeks, but Netta managed to hold hers back by thinking of happier times.

      You all know what will happen now, don’t you? Raven asked.

      What? Bobby looked up. The mercenary’s face was once again the hard, sharply-planed visage he knew and feared.

      That we have to follow him.

      Right now? Netta gasped.

      You don’t want to suffer any longer, do you?

      C-couldn’t we go home and fetch some things first, like clean clothes? Bobby asked.

      You will be able to buy more suitable clothes on my world.

      What about your armour and cloak? Bobby continued. He wanted to cross over, but only when he was more prepared. Now he felt naked. And so many loose ends dangled over his head; his job, uni, money... would any of them be waiting for him on his return?

      Armour and cloaks are easily ... acquired, Raven answered as he pulled the Eidolon from around his neck and dropped it on the floor with a metallic clink. I need the book, he ordered Netta.

      Get it yourself ‘cause I’m in no condition to move, she wheezed. It’s in my bag. She pointed across the room - and suddenly remembered the existence of Stormwalker’s girls.

      They had been gathered together since the fight, and sat baffled on their grubby blankets, arms around each other.

      Raven stalked off.

      We can’t go yet! Netta cried after him.

      He stopped, turning. Why not?

      We can’t leave without freeing the girls! It might be weeks before anyone finds them!

      Of course. But I’ll need a saw.

      There should be one around. We found a toolbox while we were searching.

      Aye. After locating Netta’s bag, Raven rummaged through the cubicle, wondering who used to own all the dirty clothes and personal items. He discovered the answer a few minutes later as he shifted aside a pile of rubbish to reveal a heap of picked-clean bones; mostly from arms and legs. With trembling fingers he picked one up, noticing teeth-marks along its length. He remembered the ones he’d discovered in the De Laney hideout.

      Whoever these poor people were, Stormwalker killed them all. Killed – and then ate. Raven shivered and wondered how a being could possibly derive pleasure from devouring his own kind. Shaking the unpleasant thoughts loose, he found the toolbox of which Netta had spoken. It contained a well-used hacksaw.

      Bobby, Netta and Jeanne watched him cut through the chains; a long and tedious task because of their quality. Everyone started yawning and wishing for bed. Ten o’clock came and went.

      As soon as Raven freed the girls with limbs, he tossed aside the hot saw and retrieved the sword he dropped earlier.

      Hey - you haven’t finished! Netta protested.

      I know. Hefting his blade, Raven returned to the chained girl. He knew there was no hope for her. Minus her voice and both arms and legs, she would be better off dead. And she knew it. As Raven stood over her, she looked up, eyes full of sweet relief. As the mercenary lifted his sword above her

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1