Come to me, little ones.
No response. They really do suck sometimes.
My thoughts flip into battle mode; I sort through scenarios.
There are three choices now. First, Lincoln and I can try to vamoose. That’s unlikely. There are no doors. I already noticed how Lincoln’s escape charms failed.
Second, we can fight. Trouble is, swords don’t do well against magic.
Which leads to option number three. Bedlam wants my agreement to a marriage spell. That’s why the Titan of Chaos started off with flattery instead of battle. It was only when Lincoln confronted him that Bedlam got aggressive.
All of which means that I have a blabby enemy who’s easily upset.
It’s like my dream situation, right here.
Stepping forward, I move right into the path of the rolling smoke from Bedlam’s stage. “Ho, there.”
The mist stops. So far, so good.
I set my fists on my hips. “Listen, bud.”
“Bedlam,” snaps the demon.
“Whatever. You want to talk? Step into the light and let’s have a conversation like a person. Er, demon.”
Little by little, Bedlam moves out of the sarcophagus and into the brightness. He looms over six feet tall with a hefty body, pale skin and long black hair that’s tied at the base of his neck with a small scrap of leather. He wears a tunic top over leather pants. Definitely handsome if you like the I have a lightbulb-shaped chest and no neck type of look.
Bedlam raises his left hand. A trio of signet rings shine out on his fingers. My skin chills over with awe. I’d know the pattern on those bands anywhere.
These are three of the most powerful magical items in the after-realms. The signet rings of Eden. No wonder Bedlam packs so many high-voltage spells.
My thoughts rush through everything I know about these bands.
There were three Edens in total: Garden for land, Ark for waters and Ether for sky. Every Eden was led by two stewards, and each of those folks wielded a magical signet ring.
Three Edens. Two stewards, each with a magical band. Six signet rings in all.
Somehow, Bedlam got his hands on three of those six bands. Based on the patterns, Bedlam wields one ring from the Garden, Ark and Ether.
Lincoln and I share a worried gaze. There’s no need for a discussion. We’ve faced archdemons and expert sorcerers. Giants and sprites. The King of Hell and the Queen of the Ice Dragons.
Yet none of those enemies comes close to Bedlam in terms of raw
magical energy. And he’s been building up his power for thousands of years.
All while waiting for me. Blech .
Bedlam raises his arms. “I summon the Tumult!”
A pair of rats skitter across the floor, pausing before the stage. Indigo smoke surrounds them before soaking into their small bodies. Another spell. When the mist vanishes, the rats expand and change. What began as tiny vermin end up as partly-human creatures with pointed bat ears and compact faces. Their overly-wide mouths are lined with sharp teeth. Long rat tails sway behind them.
I look to Lincoln. “Bedlam wields retrograde magic.”
My guy nods. “Right.”
Retrograde casters can rewind someone’s DNA to an earlier stage of development, then fast forward them along a new path. This power can easily turn a regular person into a humanoid beast.
It’s the classic spell for all signet rings of Eden, only it’s meant to be used for healing.
A fresh veil of mist surrounds Bedlam. When the indigo vapor fades, the Titan of Chaos no longer resembles a handsome human.
Instead, he’s a hairless creature who’s covered in dark scars.
It’s a tricky spell and shows this guy is truly a master of retrograde magic.
“Have I shown enough power yet?” asks Bedlam. “Are you willing to discuss terms, my beauty?”
There’s only one answer to this particular question. “Never.”
“Then just state your desire to marry me,” explains Bedlam. “My magic will do the rest.”
Huh. Someone has listening issues. Best to be clear.
I point to my open palm. “Let’s pretend I hold your little birdy of hope that we’ll get married.” I toss the imaginary bird into the air, lift a pretend shotgun, and then pull the trigger.
“Boom! Tweet! Ack! Is that clear enough for you?”
“How unfortunate,” snarls Bedlam. His eyes light up even more brightly. “If you won’t go willingly, then you shall change your mind when facing death at my hands.”
I crook my finger toward him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Before, I was ready to retreat. Now my inner wrath monster is wide awake and pissed as Hell. Sure, Lincoln and I will meet our
end one day. But in this moment, I know one thing to the very core of my soul.
We’re not dying at the hands of some nut job who looks like a diseased Mister Potato Head.
4
Lincoln
Myla and I stand side by side, waiting for the magical assault from Bedlam. Smoke surrounds his figure.
Then he vanishes, along with his Tumult.
I step about in a slow circle, not believing what I’m seeing. The Titan of Chaos just took off? Unlikely. If anything, Bedlam is planning another trap. Chaos doesn’t just kill, it creates pandemonium and plays with its prey.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
One by one, the pillars that hold up the chamber collapse to the floor. Boulders, rocks and dust careen in all directions. Every nerve ending in my body goes on alert. Long cracks form in the ceiling. Hefty slabs of stone wall buckle, but don’t cave in.
Yet.
I hold out my hand, waiting for a thin trickle of sand to cascade from above. Instead, water drips onto my palm.
Myla frowns. “Bedlam changed some rats into the Tumult. What’s he up to now?” Myla shrugs. “I got nothing.”
My thoughts spin through everything I know about retrograde casting. I stare up at the cracked ceiling. “Perhaps Bedlam can rewind and fast-forward time and place as well as DNA.”
Snap!
Another great fissure opens along the ceiling. Heavy rivulets of water cascade down.
Myla nods. “Back in dinosaur times, what was the Sahara?”
“The Thethys Sea.” I love history of all kinds. Remarkable how handy it becomes in battle.
“Let’s say you wanted to really screw with us,” says Myla. “When would you rewind this particular place?”
“No question. The Early Miocene era. That’s when the worst predators ruled the Thethys.”
Speaking of the ocean, I search my pockets for water-breathing charms, but don’t find any. Not that I’d usually pack them. We were heading to a desert, after all. And even if I did have water-breathing charms along, then Bedlam would probably block them from working.
Myla cups my face in her hands. “Whatever happens, we stay together.”
Turning my head, I kiss her palm. “Always.”
BOOM!
The ceiling collapses above us. Ocean water pours through, cold and deadly. A thought occurs to me.
That may have been my last word to Myla.
Always. It’s a good one.
5
Myla
A torrent of water gushes in through the ruined ceiling. Needles of cold jab into every inch of my skin. Dim liquid rolls off in every direction.
One fact becomes clear: You never realize how nice it is to breathe until you’re stuck in an ocean from the dinosaur era.