The Wizard Heir
Page 30

Linda nodded toward the wizard. “I'm sorry, Seph. This is Nicodemus Snowbeard,” she said. “And my nephew, Jack Swift, and a friend, Ellen Stephenson.” She put her hand on Seph's shoulder. “This is Seph McCauley.” She didn't qualify him in any way.
Jack Swift, Seph thought. Where have I heard that name before?
“You never said he was a wizard,” Jack said, not bothering to hide his surprise. They were all three looking curiously at Seph's cut and swollen lip, his battered face. “Since when does a wizard need sanctuary?” There was a degree of challenge behind the question.
Seph lifted his chin and looked Jack in the eyes. He was almost of a height with the warrior, though Jack probably outweighed him by half. “Why? You the gatekeeper?”
“Jack, you of all people should know it's not difficult to make enemies, no matter who you are,” Linda said quickly.
That was it. Jack Swift was the warrior who'd played in the famous tournament at Raven's Ghyll. The rebel behind the change in the rules. And he was Linda Downey's nephew.
Seph remembered what she'd said in the car. My nephew was in trouble, and … well … I got distracted. Seph studied Jack with new interest, like he'd suddenly discovered a celebrity sitting next to him in a movie theater.
The newcomers pulled more chairs around the table.
“How did you get through the barrier, Nicodemus?” Linda asked.
Snowbeard nodded at the two warriors. “Jack and Ellen brought their blades. They were able to cut a path for us.”
“And before we were through, we had company.” Jack stretched his long legs into the aisle. “Four wizards showed up, all excited at first, but they lost interest when they saw who we were.”
“The wizards who put up the web can detect any disturbance in it. Rather like a spider waiting for its prey,” Snowbeard said. “Whoever did it has a real talent and an excess of power. It's incredible that it went up that fast.”
“What did the wizards look like?” Seph pushed aside the remains of his pie, no longer interested.
“They were all pretty young, maybe a few years older than us,” Ellen said.
“They asked about an enchanter and a young wizard, matching your descriptions,” Jack added, fixing Seph with a gaze that conceded nothing. “They were typical wizards—arrogant and pushy—but I guess they decided they didn't want to get into it.” The warrior flexed his hands and rested them on his knees, as if he wouldn't have minded getting into it.
“They ordered us to leave the web alone,” Ellen added.
“How does a Weirweb work?” Seph asked.
The old man stroked his beard. “It's a soft barrier that selects for Weir, for people carrying a stone. Anaweir can pass through it without even noticing. For us, it's a very sticky trap. It will hold you fast if you touch any part of it. Given enough time, I could force an opening. But it's made to be resistant to spellcasting.”
Barber had put up the wizard wall at the Havens. But how could they have tracked them here so quickly? And why let him go, only to come after him here?
“The Weirweb is an interesting choice of weapons,” Snowbeard said thoughtfully. “It was commonly used in the wizard wars back in the sixteenth century. Wizards would trap Weir from the opposing houses in the web and then pick them off at their leisure, or take them prisoner. It's fine work. I haven't seen anything like it in several hundred years.”
Seph blinked at the wizard. How old could he be, anyway? Jason had said wizards lived almost forever, but Seph had thought he was exaggerating.
“Well,” Snowbeard continued. “We're going to have to assume that someone wants to keep you from reaching the sanctuary. Their use of the web suggests they want to take you alive. Otherwise they would have set a different kind of trap.”
“So,” Jack said, leaning across the table, speaking directly to Seph. “Did you piss somebody off, or what?”
“Will you relax?” Ellen said, frowning at Jack. “Can't you see he's had a hard time?”
Seph shoved his chair back. “Hey, if we can't get in, I'll just go somewhere else. I don't want to inconvenience anyone.”
Linda put her hand on his arm. “No. I want you in the sanctuary.” She glared around the table, daring anyone to disagree.
“What's so special about the sanctuary?” Seph asked
“Attack magic is not allowed within its boundaries,” Snowbeard replied. He covered Linda's hand with his, and murmured something to her. “Now, then. It will take some time to get through the web, and I don't think we want to have to entertain four wizards while we are doing it. So I suggest we create a distraction.”
He leaned forward. “We'll spread out. Jack and Ellen will cut a path through for Seph. They're familiar with your car, Linda, yes? So you and I will create a diversion with the car. With any luck, they'll come after us. By the time they discover their mistake, you're in.” He paused. “Hopefully. At least it will split them up. I can create a rather spectacular diversion, if I do say so. I'm the most likely to succeed and come out alive, and if I don't, I'm nearly four hundred and ninety-two years old.” He turned to Linda. “Is there anything you would like to get from the car?”
Linda paid the check, and they walked out to the parking lot together. A black Subaru stood in a secluded spot in back of the restaurant. Jack opened the trunk and lifted out two ornate swords, handing one hiltfirst to Ellen.
The weapons illuminated the parking lot, bright sparks in the gathering dusk. Jack's was the larger of the two, and it had a large red ruby set into the hilt. Jack handled it as though it weighed nothing. He buckled on a leather harness with a scabbard that slanted across his back.
Maybe those are magic pieces from the golden age of sorcery, like the dyrne sefa, Seph thought.
“Let's synchronize our watches. It's seven forty-five,” Snowbeard said. “Linda and I will break into the web at eight fifteen. Wait a few minutes, then cut through yourselves.”
Snowbeard slid behind the wheel of the BMW, with Linda on the passenger side. Jack and Ellen and Seph climbed into the Subaru, laying the swords down between the seats.
They drove in tandem, with Snowbeard leading the way along country roads, turning as often as necessary to keep close to the shimmering border. It seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, even arching over top of the town. It would be easy to walk into, if you weren't paying attention.
About a mile to the west, Jack pulled well off the road, into the edge of a field. The three of them climbed out, Jack and Ellen carrying their swords. Snowbeard drove on, disappearing over the next ridge.
They'd chosen a spot where the barrier cut across a field. A battered farmhouse crouched next to the road, its paint gone gray with weather. The foundation of the house was overgrown with wild roses, sprays of red and white flowers with yellow centers. In the pasture, cattle wandered back and forth through the barrier, oblivious to it. The late day sun slanted across the barnyard.
They slipped past the house, moving behind the barn where they would be less likely to be seen from the road. Here, between the barn and the fenced pasture, the grass was nearly knee-high and concealed hidden hazards: rusty pieces of old farm machinery and piles of cow manure.
Up close, the barrier was revealed as an intricate network of nearly translucent cords, as thick as Seph's little finger. There was hardly an inch of space between them anywhere. There was something mathematical about the pattern, like the spokes of a spiderweb. It had a kind of malevolent presence, as if it were alive and watching them. He couldn't tell how thick it was.
Jack paced up and down impatiently, swinging his sword like a scythe, clipping off the tops of weeds. Seph and Ellen sat down in the grass and waited. Biting insects buzzed around their faces.
At 8:15, they queued up at the wall, Jack first, then Ellen, followed by Seph. “We'll only be able to hack a narrow path,” Jack warned Seph. “This stuff is tough to get through and it kind of fills in behind. So be careful not to touch any part of it.”
In the distance, they heard a boom and saw flames fountaining into the air like a series of gigantic Roman candles. The diversion had begun.
They'll be lucky if they don't draw the local police, too, Seph thought.
Jack's blue-edged blade bit into the web, sending bits of cording flying. The net responded immediately, shrinking back before them. A muttering arose from the Weirweb, like the sound of an angry crowd. It grew until it became a great wailing clamor.
Jack looked over his shoulder, making a face. “Hard to take, isn't it?” He turned back to his work. He flowed from stance to stance like a fencer, the sword a bright blur, singing as the web keened. The warrior's swordplay was poetry in flesh, although it wasn't long before his T-shirt was stuck to him, and sweat poured down his face. Ellen followed behind, clearing loose tendrils and widening the path behind Jack. They swapped places every few minutes. Seph watched to the rear, looking for any sign of pursuit.
They had cut a path about thirty feet into the net when it happened. One of the tendrils Jack had broken whipped back, and Ellen sidestepped to avoid it. Her arm brushed one of the loose tendrils at the side of the path. The web reacted swiftly, throwing three new cords around her waist.
“Jack!” She hacked at the cords with her sword, but a line tangled around her legs, and she fell. More strands wrapped around her sword arm, seemingly attracted by her violent efforts to free herself.
“Will you hold still?” Jack plunged into the growth around her, slicing away at the bonds that held her whole body prisoner. He used his blade like a surgeon, slicing through the web, miraculously never drawing blood. Ellen sat stone still, unflinching, though swearing creatively. But the net responded by throwing out more cords. Jack had to be careful not to become entangled himself. He was making no visible progress. He yanked a blade out of a sheath at his belt and looked over at Seph. “Listen, are you any good with a knife?”