The Spell Realm (The Sorcery Code #2)(59)

Jandison’s mouth fell open. “What . . . How did you . . .” he sputtered.

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Blaise said angrily, managing to write on the card at the same time. “I know the truth now.”

The Councilor’s expression slowly changed, a sly look appearing in his eyes. “Well, if you know, then I guess there’s no harm in telling you,” he said, apparently recovering from his shock. He was also multi-tasking, his hands riffling through his bag. “I created a teleportation vortex from one of the boxes to the other,” he explained, and the note of pride in his voice fed Blaise’s fury.

“Why?” Blaise spat, quickly scribbling the last lines of code. He wished he could rip the answer from the old man along with some inner organs. “Why lie to me before?”

“I wanted you to have a falling-out with Ganir. He’s the one I have a problem with, not you,” Jandison said without a hint of shame. “I always liked you—I hope you know that. I’m sorry things worked out this way, but perhaps we can still find a way to reach an understanding . . .” As he spoke, Jandison’s hands were loading his own spell.

At that moment, Blaise finished his spell too, and without any hesitation he unleashed it, the rage inside him boiling out of control.

Blaise’s creation hit Jandison first. It was a bone-crushing, though not lethal, spell. Had it reached its target, Jandison would be in agony, but alive. The idea behind the spell was to penetrate Jandison’s shield, which might have been designed to withstand only lethal attacks.

To Blaise’s disappointment, Jandison’s shield held—and at the same time, Jandison’s own offensive spell went into effect.

Objects started to fly at Blaise, everything from paintings to statues that stood in the hallway. As they reached Blaise, they were deflected by Blaise’s recent spell, flew at Jandison, and landed at the Councilor’s feet, defeated by the powerful shield the old man had at his disposal. Then they flew at Blaise again, over and over, bouncing between his shield and that of Jandison, with more objects joining in the assault with every second.

Blaise could see that his reflective barrier would not be able to take this onslaught for long. Glancing frantically around the room, he saw the green sword-like thing—the needle that had traveled to the Spell Realm and back—flying at him.

Knowing full well his reflection spell was in its last throes, Blaise readied himself for a desperate stunt. Jumping to the side, he caught the needle-sword with his right hand. It was sharp, and he could feel it slicing through his palm, seemingly to the bone. The pain was stunning, but he refused to give in to it. Without any hesitation, he hurled the needle-sword at Jandison, loading a healing spell into his Interpreter Stone at the same time. He hoped the distraction of the hurled object would give Blaise a chance to heal.

To his shock, instead of harmlessly bouncing against Jandison’s powerful barrier, the sword penetrated it, spearing Jandison right in the chest.

Jandison’s last expression was that of complete and utter shock. Blaise couldn’t blame him. A shield that powerful should have been impenetrable to any physical attacks. Clearly, the sword was something more than a failed experiment.

Before Blaise could think about it further, however, a flash of bright light turned everything white.





Chapter 42: Barson


The day of reckoning had arrived.

Rising from his bed, Barson swiftly pulled on his armor and grabbed his weapons. Dara was already awake and had food sitting on the table when he came downstairs. Larn was present too, his expression hard and filled with tension. There was nothing else to talk about, nothing to discuss.

It was time to act.

Though Barson was not hungry, he forced himself to eat everything Dara put on his plate, knowing he would need his strength for the bloody ordeal ahead. Then the three of them headed to the Tower, where the rest of Barson’s men were already waiting.

It was close to midnight, and the entire Tower was asleep when the soldiers entered the halls. The inhabitants of the Tower relied on defensive spells to guard them at night—spells that Dara and Barson’s sorcerer allies had figured out how to neutralize in recent weeks. Without those spells—and the Guard on their side—the sorcerers were essentially unprotected.

At Barson’s signal, his men spread out, breaking up into small groups.

The takeover of the Tower had begun.





Chapter 43: Augusta





Augusta hid outside Blaise’s house, listening intently with her spell-improved hearing. Frowning, she tried to make sense of what she’d heard. Jandison had done something with the vote? Blaise knew about it? She couldn’t even begin to wrap her mind around such an incredible story. She would have to get to the bottom of it, but for now, she needed to focus on the task at hand.

Augusta had a couple of reasons for not coming to Jandison’s aid. First and foremost, with him out of the battlefield, she had to focus all of her attention on plan B, the fusion spell. She also needed Blaise weakened, as a contingency if Plan B failed, and a confrontation with Jandison was sure to accomplish that. Besides, if what she just heard was true, Jandison had made fools of her and the rest of the Council, and he deserved whatever Blaise did to him.

Turning her attention to plan B, she focused on the fusion spell. It was dangerous, and Augusta had hoped to avoid using it. Now, however, it seemed inevitable. The creature was too powerful, deflecting all of their usual spells with ease. Even the expression on its face was calm and serene, as though it didn’t care.