He took a step forward. Atros gestured again and the bloody green slime in the center of the corridor massed and grew and rose up in a foul dripping wave in front of Bal-Simba.
Again Bal-simba gestured and the slime hung back. It recoiled, gathered itself and thrust forward like a striking snake. With an easy grace Bal-simba pirouetted to one side. The slime thing missed and fell into the center of the corridor with a hollow “splat.” Before it could gather itself again the Northerner pressed his staff into the slime’s “back.” It quivered for a moment and then lay still.
The giant turned to face his giant assailant. Atros’s lips were working as he prepared another spell. But Bal-simba didn’t give him the chance to use it.
“And now.” Bal-simba tapped his staff on the flagging and stepped forward. Atros gave ground, pawing the air frantically with his staff.
“And now.” Bial-Simba stepped and struck the pavement with a ringing blow as Atros blanched and flinched.
“And now,”
he bellowed and smote the floor so hard his staff shattered into three pieces. Atros screamed as a great chasm opened beneath him. He teetered on the crumbling brink for an instant and then toppled forward. He was still screaming ever fainter and further away when the earth closed with a clap of thunder, cutting off his screams forever.
The black giant sagged and put a hand on the tunnel wall to stay upright. “Whoo,” he gasped and shook his head. “Whoo.”
“Lord, am I glad to see you!” Wiz stepped out of the cell, leaning on Moira for support.
“Sparrow,” Bal-Simba rumbled, “you are a great deal of trouble.”
Wiz just laughed and hugged him.
“Lord,” Moira hugged him from the other side. “Lord, I had lost hope.”
“Always unwise, Lady,” said Bal-Simba. He frowned. “My two guardsmen? Donal and Kenneth?”
“Here, Lord,” croaked Kenneth, pulling himself erect on the frame of the cell door. “Donal is with me, but he is in a sore way.”
“Then I suggest we take him someplace more comfortable,” Bal-Simba said. “Sparrow, will you do the honors? I’m not sure I am up to walking the Wizard’s Way just yet.”
“With pleasure,” Wiz grinned. “Uh, it may take me four or five tries to get the spell right.”
It actually took six.
Thirteen
The Beginning
Spring was returning to Heart’s Ease.
Except for the spots in deepest shade the snow was melting, exposing the wet black earth beneath. Here and there the hardiest plants thrust forth brave green shoots and the branches of the trees swelled with the promise of buds. The ground was soggy and chill, and there was still a skin of ice on the puddles in the morning, but the afternoon air was soft and the sun shone more brightly onto the warming land.
Wiz and Moira stood together in the door of his hut, sharing a cloak and looking out over the Wild Wood.
Heart’s Ease was still a gaunt blackened thumb against the blue sky, but the burned parts of the stockade were already down, removed by the forest folk. As soon as the paths through the Wild Wood dried out men would arrive, masons and carpenters who would begin rebuilding Heart’s Ease. As before there would be no magic in its construction.
“We don’t have to stay here, love,” Wiz told Moira. “It will take time to make the place habitable and there’s no reason you should live in a log cabin. We could go someplace more civilized. Even the Capital if you prefer.”
“I want to stay here, I think,” Moira said, snuggling to him under the cloak. “Oh, I’d like to go visit my village after things thaw and dry. But I like it here.” She turned her face to his for a kiss and Wiz responded enthusiastically.
“Besides,” she went on after a bit, “I think Shiara likes having us.” She turned to him. “But where do you want to live?”
“Anywhere you are,” Wiz told her. “I’d be happy anywhere with you.”
Moira bit her lip and dropped her gaze. “We need to talk about that.”
“Fine,” Wiz agreed, “but not now. We’ve got company.”