He lobs another burst of light in my direction and I slip into the shadows again, appearing closer to him this time. Using my staff, I strike him with it hard enough to throw him off balance. He growls, spinning as he stumbles and throws out the lightning-type magic with no aim.
It strikes the cave above us, making the space rumble. Spinning my staff in my hand I attempt to crush his leg with the base. He’s quicker than I expect for a self-proclaimed king, shooting blue magic from his hands at random.
I disappear, using the ice and snow to slip away. It temporarily disorients him, and his eyes widen as he takes in the new power. My ice magic is weak, and it doesn’t get me very far in a space this warm. “You have different types of magic.”
“I have many things,” I agree, materializing in front of him. He strikes at me and I do the same, sending my shadows straight into his chest. “You have something that belongs to me.”
Dima manages to swerve around the attack, snatching the book I discarded with one hand as he holds up his other, a ball of blue magic in his palm. The cave around us rumbles. He’s going to bring the whole thing down on us if we aren’t careful.
Fucking hell, Barty. Why did I ever listen to you?
I’m not going to die by being crushed for a second time. I can survive a cave-in; he may not, but it’s the spellbook I’m worried about.
“You took something,” Dima calls, turning in a fast circle to keep his eyes on me. “The needle in the pages.”
“A spinning needle,” I correct. If this came into his possession, how the hell does he not know what he holds?
“Ah,” Dima grumbles, glaring at me around the ball of magic. “I didn’t know its purpose, but the lady whom I bought it from said it was of utter importance. You know its origins then?”
So the oaf doesn’t know anything at all.
I nod toward the book he’s cradling like a prized possession. “You don’t have the answers in there?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know, mage,” he hisses, baring his teeth at me. “You must be Ban of the North.”
I grimace at the old nickname. “Just Ban.”
“Just Ban,” he mimics, narrowing his eyes. “What’s an ice mage doing this far south without an ulterior motive? I know the rumors of the Reapers. You stay north of Icicle Pass and remain in the Frostlands almost exclusively.”
There’s a reason for that, but I don’t think Dima deserves an answer. “Give me that book to go with the needle, and I suppose I won’t let the caves kill you.”
He sneers, making that ball of blue magic bigger. If I had to guess, Dima’s magic is tied to his emotions; the angrier he isthe less controlled it seems to be. “I’m not giving you anything! Here I am, trying to find a weapon of Death, and you walk into my caves like a gift.”
“These aren't your caves,” I say, tilting my head. “Delusion runs deep within you, doesn’t it?”
“I can use yours,” he goes on, seeming to be completely unconcerned with the danger he’s in. “I don’t see why a staff should make a difference.”
“My staff?” I ask, drawing back my hand. Even with the needle clenched within my palm, I can still send a viscous stream of ice in Dima’s direction. He either doesn’t battle much or isn’t prepared for the onslaught. He feigns, a bit clumsily, and drops the book altogether.
Perfect.
As Dima tries to deflect the ice shards, I throw shadows beneath the spellbook to swallow it into the darkness. There’s no reason to linger here once I have all that I need.
A screech leaves me as some weird, fat bird barrels into my leg. I make a slashing motion with my hand, determined to cut off its head. It distracts me from sucking the damned book into the shadows, but I do get a good look at the creature for a moment.
What the hell is wrong with this bird?
It doesn’t seem to even notice the impact of my ice into its feathered body, and it opens its unnaturally large jaws to reveal a maw of jagged, horrendous teeth. I glide backward into the shadows before the thing takes a bite out of me, stumbling into something else.
For fuck’s sake, why is this place such a clusterfuck?
“Take the staff, save for last.” Something thick wraps around each of my wrists, and I immediately call the ice magic forward to freeze the restrictive coils. When I glance down theyappear green, and it clicks in my mind what the beast behind me is before I try to hit the damned bird again with my weapon.
Spinning, I thrust the top of my staff into the Flowerborne behind me, the eerie head and unnatural limbs catching my attention before pained wails escape its mouth. I’ve shattered the vines, more or less ripping off its arms, and it lets out a pitiful scream at the agony.
I can’t stand Flowerborne. This one either escaped its cage, or it was loose in this cavern the entire time.
Despite its pain, the Flowerborne is a distraction, and the bird trying to take a bite out of me for a third time nearly succeeds. Deciding to hide in the shadows again until I can take what I need, I feel myself gliding back into its protective hold.
