Chapter Twenty-Four Wilde
Four Years Ago
The Lord of Grimnight’s Evil Lair
Learning Through Independent Study
The Lord of Grimnight did not control the forest. He thought he did, because he sat on the throne and because the roots listened to him when he wanted them to grow.
The roots did not listen to him when he told them to stop.
The forest wanted to grow more than anything, and one mage who had ‘inherited’ the lair at its center wouldn’t deter it.
Every time I cleaned a room, I could still feel the roots lurking beneath the floor, creeping along the walls, waiting for me to turn my back so they could grow again.
It took me a whole year to realize that cutting them off wasn’t enough—I had to make them grow backwards.
Force their reaching branches and stretching roots to curl back into themselves, into a sapling, into a sprout, into a seed.
The throne knew what I was doing. It loomed in the darkness, daring me to test myself against it. Not that I ever would. That was my master’s throne. Trimming its twisting branches would be like declawing a cat, and my master would not thank me for my efforts.
I’d cleared the rest of the throne room though. Smoothed out the floors so that an audience could walk across it without tripping. Cut the ivy at its roots so that it browned and drooped from the ceiling. A week had passed, and nothing had sprouted through the floor.
Pleased with myself, I decided to finally show it to my master. His rooms were on the top floor, a fifteen-minute walk scattered with blood-thirsty, murderous plants that tried to trip me on the stairs.
I closed my eyes and focused on his instructions for teleporting:
“I could teach you how to teleport with an array or a magical device, but what good would that do you if you’re caught unawares?
You need to learn how to teleport on instinct, until it’s as easy as walking.
Easier, once your knees start to creak. Second-class mages use shadows.
The best ones use air. Wrap it around yourself, feel the magic saturating every inch of you.
Use your cloak to mimic the sensation if you need to.
Inhale the magic and hold. Picture where you need to go—the more detailed, the better—and tell yourself that’s where you will be on your exhale. ”
I still had to physically wrap my cloak around myself to succeed, but I arrived safely on the top floor. The master had told me never to enter his rooms uninvited, so I appeared in the hallway instead. I raised my hand to knock but paused when I heard my master’s low, sinister voice.
“So, my treasure, what news have you brought me?”
“Nothing?” the other speaker’s voice had an annoyed, sulky inflection I’d only ever heard in other teenagers.
“Then why did you call?”
“Gee, what could I possibly be calling about today of all days?”
“I don’t know!” Master snapped. Something crashed in the background, like he’d thrown it in anger or accidentally knocked it off the desk.
“You have been on this mission for eight years already and all your reports are worthless! Father likes his eggs over medium, Dad prefers his scrambled,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice.
“Always calling them ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’ as if that means something. Need I remind you that your surname is Arnulf not Banes?”
A long silence followed this tirade, and then the other speaker said, “If you keep yelling, they’ll hear you, and they’ll discover your plot.” His voice cracked halfway through, though I couldn’t tell if it was from emotion or puberty.
Master sucked in an audible breath and forced out a loud, gusty sigh. “Have you learned anything more about the Kingdom Defense Spell? Specifically, a way to bring it down?”
“No.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because it’s my fucking birthday, which you clearly forgot.”
“Oh.” No apology followed the realization. Evil mages did not apologize, otherwise they’d have to interrupt their monologues with ‘sorry’ every few lines. “You turn sixteen today?”
“Seventeen. You know how long I’ve been on this mission, but not how old I am?”
“I’ve been very busy since earning my title.”
“Oh right, what was it again?” The sneer came through clearly in his voice. “Lord of Assholes?”
“You watch your mouth!” The master took a deep, audible breath to calm himself down before saying. “You’re going through a rebellious phase, I understand. But I am the Lord of Grimnight, and you will use my title with all the respect it deserves.”
Several long seconds passed before the master angrily muttered, “He cut off the call? Damned brat.”
Since their conversation had finished, I wouldn’t learn anything else loitering outside the door. I knocked and waited for the master to call me inside.
He glowered at me. “You heard that didn’t you? You are supposed to spy for me, not on me.”
The ‘no apologies’ rule did not apply to apprentices. “I’m sorry, Master.” I didn’t explain myself any further, he wouldn’t appreciate it anyway. “Who were you speaking to?” I could guess, but I needed confirmation. Needed to know I hadn’t been waiting in vain.
The master sighed and rested his head in his hand.
Blond curls brushed his forehead, which would have looked sweet on a baby or a cherub but looked out of place on an evil mage.
“Treasure Banes, as he’s known now. He is my …
employee. Not quite a minion, not technically an apprentice.
A child I sent to the Desolated Lands to infiltrate the kingdom of Bane. ”
He danced around the truth, not admitting that Treasure was his son. Had I remembered their relationship wrong? It’d been so many years since I’d met Treasure—almost as many as he’d been away, by the sounds of it.
“Unfortunately, he’s been gone so long that he’s forgotten who he really is.” Master sneered at the mirror on one wall, where I would have seen Treasure’s reflection if I’d been brave enough to interrupt them earlier. “One day, when you meet him, you will have to teach him proper manners.”
My heart thumped in anticipation. Those words promised a time when I would see Treasure again.
I tried to picture our first meeting. Would he be the sweet boy I remembered?
A foul-mouthed teenager angry with the world?
I wanted him to look at me, to smile at me, to speak the name I’d chosen for myself. “And when will that be?”
“Soon, I hope. Since you’ve witnessed all that, it’s time to let you in on my grand evil scheme.” The lord stood up and approached me, placing both hands on my shoulders. “I will conquer the Desolated Lands. Rule them with shadow and root. Will you join me in their defeat?”
I thought of Treasure, dedicating years of his life to this goal.
Leaving everything he knew behind for a new world, a new name.
Was he doing it to please his father? It couldn’t be revenge—he’d been too young when he’d left.
Who could he possibly seek vengeance upon?
But maybe he had his own ambition, his own evil goals. That, at least, I understood.
I nodded slowly. I would do everything in my power to see Treasure’s mission succeed.
Present Day
A Room at the Inn
Handcuffed to a Cat
“Why did you insist on killing the Lord of Grimnight?” Delilah demanded as soon as the door closed, cutting us off from the other champions.
“They asked me a question, I answered it. The best way to defeat an evil mage is to kill them.”
Her fingers twitched at her side like she wanted to strangle me. “Do I have to remind you that you are the Lord of Grimnight?”
“I’m only his apprentice.”
“Bullshit!” she cried, loud enough that the others probably heard her. “That is your evil lair, and your minions, and your title. You are essentially asking us to kill you!”
When they’d talked about the Lord of Grimnight, I’d only thought of Trey’s father.
The shadow sword he’d wielded against the champions he’d promised not to harm.
The hate in his eyes as he’d turned that sword on his own son.
The roots he’d conjured, after all the work I’d done removing them, to use against me.
I was not that Lord of Grimnight, and I never would be. I’d only stolen my master’s title to keep the lair in order, but if the royal champions needed an evil mage to defeat, I’d give them one.
First, I needed an evil plan for them to thwart. One I didn’t need to succeed.
“Do you know the command word?” I asked, shaking the cuffs.
She stuck her nose in the air and crossed one arm over her chest. The other was still attached to me. “No, and I wouldn’t use it even if I did.”
I eyed the collar around her neck, wondering if I could get a hint at Rick’s system from his other works.
Anything could be a command word. Their only purpose was to channel their intent and make sure the spell provided the same results every time.
I twisted the collar around on her neck, trying to figure out Rick’s thought process.
“What are you doing?” Delilah demanded, batting at my hands. “If you take it off—”
“I’m trying to turn you into a cat.”
She stilled, then eyed me uncertainly. “Trey said I shouldn’t push you to perform magic until you’ve rested.”
“I’ve rested.” I’d spent all damn day resting, if you could call being crammed into a carriage with five other occupants resting. For the purposes of convincing her, it counted.
She relaxed and said, “Alright, but don’t push yourself too hard. You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”
Finally, I found the glyph imprinted on the pink leather, near the clasp.
I traced it with my fingers, feeling the magic, learning its intent.
Once I’d learned the shape of it, I laughed.
It was an amateur mistake—disassembling something without knowing how to put it back together.
Rick had listed the traits of a cat: ears, tail, sharp incisors, retractable claws, barbed tongue. All he’d needed to do was say: cat.
Delilah disappeared.
The other end of the cuff thumped heavily against my side, suddenly empty.
“Meow?”
I looked down at the stunned, fluffy brown cat at my feet. She stared up at me with huge, brown eyes, then opened her mouth and meowed again. Repeatedly, like she was trying to say something.
Then she lunged forward and bit my ankle.
“You asked for this!” I reminded her as I tried to shake her off my leg. She dug her claws in, scrambling up my side like a tree. She perched on my shoulder and hissed in my face.
Had I made the spell too simple? Was she truly an angry cat right now, rather than an angry princess in cat form?
Since she couldn’t speak, she’d resorted to communicating through violence. I plucked her off my shoulder and held her at arm’s length. She swiped a paw through the air, slicing open my shirtsleeve and drawing blood.
“You can’t turn back,” I observed. “Is that the problem?”
She stopped fighting and meowed pitifully.
Which meant I’d essentially cursed her, using the collar as the anchor.
“Stay still.” I plopped her on the bed and examined the back of the collar.
It’d changed sizes with her, loose enough to fit comfortably and tight enough to not slide off when she moved.
“The spell is only active while you wear the collar. To reverse the spell, all you need to do is remove the collar.”
Her body relaxed under my hand and a soft purr rumbled through her chest.
Delilah couldn’t remove the collar herself without opposable thumbs. She also couldn’t open the door, or call out for help …
I slowly raised my hands and backed away from the bed.
She continued purring contently for a moment until she noticed my absence. Her cat face wasn’t nearly as expressive as her human one, but I still read the confusion in her eyes.
And then the panic.
She pounced toward me, but I was already gone.
I teleported into the center of the throne room. “Imps!” I called. “Gather the minions!”
Five minutes later, every minion I’d hired had gathered into the throne room. Plus a few unfamiliar faces filling out the ranks.
I glanced sharply at Fyodor, who shrugged and said, “We needed more help.”
Can I afford this? Not that it mattered; it wasn’t my money anyway. “Within a week, adventurers will arrive in our forest.”
The minions all straightened to attention.
“I need you to listen to these instructions carefully. Anyone who disobeys will no longer exist in this dimension.”
I’d reset time since displaying my power to a hundred minions, yet a shudder went through the crowd. Some memories lingered beyond existence.
“We are putting on a show for them,” I explained. “It is theater. We are not harming these adventurers, and we are certainly not killing them. Do you understand?”
A lacertian raised their hand. “Why not?”
“Because those are your orders.”
Fyodor eyed me skeptically. “What if they try to kill us? Can we defend ourselves?”
I remembered Treasure sprawled out on the floor, bleeding from a blow to the head. “If they try to fight you, surrender.”
“But …” Sisyph looked around at his gathered crew. “You told us to guard the lair.”
“New orders. If any of them try to bribe you, accept it. Bargain with them if you think you can get a higher price. If they surrender, bring them straight to the throne room. Don’t bother with the dungeons.
Don’t chain or lock them up. Don’t leave a guard.
Let them roam around if they feel like it but keep them away from the stairs.
” The roots were most stubborn there. I didn’t need anyone tripping and falling to their death.
“We’ll look like idiots,” Fyodor complained.
I pointed a finger at him. “Exactly. You’re the idiot minions of an idiot evil mage who stumbled his way into a title.”
The minions exchanged confused looks.
“Does this have anything to do with the cuff on your wrist?” Fyodor asked.
Everyone’s eyes dropped to the cuff. I tucked my hands behind my back and said, “Unrelated.”
No one looked like they believed me. I tried to override their skepticism with more orders, “Patrols should be predictable and widespread. Give them opportunities to slip past you rather than fight you. Kill anything you come across in the forest that poses a threat to humans.”
“Oh, so we do get to kill?” a minion asked, perking up at the thought.
“Non-sapient only.”
“What would you like us to do about the people who have taken over the rest of the town?” Sisyph asked.
I’d forgotten about them. “Spread the word. They’re allowed to stay only if they play along. Capture anyone who doesn’t. You can put them in the dungeons.”
“So, you want us to do our job, just not against the adventurers?” Fyodor asked.
I nodded, glad someone understood the plan, even if he didn’t seem happy about it. “Any other questions?”
As it turned out, they had a lot of other questions. Everything from ‘can I still carry my weapon’ to specific scenarios they would probably never encounter. I sighed and settled in for a long night of plotting.