Magic's Memories

Chapter Thirty-four

Feyla hit the floor in a slump. Her ears rang, but not enough to block out Delia's frantic footsteps pounding down the hallway. A cold staff blade touched her throat, forcing her to lift her head. Desden Carrow glared down at her, a smile tight across his thin lips. "Feyla."

Feyla's lips curled into a snarl. She jerked her head toward Jaerick, who groaned from across the room. The thick, metallic scent of blood mixed with burnt skin and singed Feyla's nose. Jaerick clutched his magic-blacked leg wound and met her gaze briefly before pain racked through him again and his eyes shut.

"Should've helped me when I asked, Feyla," Desden said. "Now we're doing the hard way again." Desden's ears twitched toward the door as Delia reached it.

Delia slammed into the doorway, her hand stretched out toward her husband in desperation. "Jaerick!" she choked out at the sight of him, only to recoil when Desden's staff ignited and left Feyla's throat to better threaten them both.

"Even better. You get in and you get up," Desden ordered, shoving Feyla roughly with his foot.

"Des, we—we shouldn't be doing this," Dormaeus whispered behind him as his brother forced Feyla and Delia into the opposite corner as Jaerick.

"Don't know what's best for you, brother. We're fixing you." Desden kept his staff aimed at Feyla and Delia.

Feyla measured the distance between that staff and Jaerick. She could see Delia doing the same, her friend's eyes clouded with angry tears. Maybe it was those that kept her from seeing what was obvious. They might avoid the first blast but there was no chance that they'd make it out with Jaerick unscathed.

"M'all right, Delia," Jaerick slurred unconvincingly. Desden grabbed him by his ruddy hair and turned his face away from the gaze he'd held with his wife.

"Try this again. Give me the memory spell notes, or I'll blast your Delia, then Feyla, then you again until there's nothing left to blast from all of you."

Jaerick blinked long and slow. Feyla realized that he didn't know how the wizard knew both her name and the fact that he often said "My Delia" when referring to his wife.

But she knew.

The tiniest of smirks curled around the edges of Desden's mouth and the sensation of been peeled bare scraped over her again. Before she could come up with a plan, before she could even react with more than a glare, Jaerick spoke.

"The shelf beside your head. There's a...a sealed vault behind it," he forced the words out and twisted his neck enough to find his wife again.

Desden released him and tore the books off the shelf. They clattered to the floor, scattering loose papers everywhere. After getting the combination from Jaerick, Desden clicked it open and removed a slim, brown leather sleeve. A white wax seal embossed with the open-hands symbol of the Healer's Guild held closed its secrets. Desden's hands shook with boyish eagerness, the cruel wizard from earlier temporarily banished as he grinned at his older brother like he'd just brought home perfect marks from school.

A single shout, then several, carried down the halls. Desden's head twitched toward the sound, neck craned and ears alert. He grabbed hold of his brother's shoulder and peeked out the door. "Gates." Desden's hand bore into his brother's shirt before he shot off down the hall, dragging Dormaeus with him.

Delia lunged at her husband the moment the doorway emptied. Her hands cup his face in wordless relief before the healer part of her snapped back into place. "Your leg— burnt, I can—"

"Delia," Jaerick whispered, the name the only word he deemed worth the effort to say.

Delia gripped his hand and turned her head to Feyla sharply. As a healer, her voice was usually calm. Professional. Soothing. Now her words were a scalpel. They cut through all gentleness and compassion, leaving only deathly righteous anger. "Don't let them leave the grounds."