Cody J. Sherer

The cold night air burned Septimus throat as he breathed in deeply. Malcorn had been his first apprentice. The fool wishes to play with fire, Septimus thought as he made his way toward the tower. Both of his fists were engulfed in flames, and the fire was spreading from his hands to the rest of his body. It felt as though the fire was spreading as his hate welled up within him. Malcorn had always been foolish, but he was one of the most powerful magic users that Septimus had ever met. He took in a deep breath as he saw the tower rising up above him. The two Wielders that were standing guard at the door didn’t even try to stop Septimus as he approached the main door of the tower. He shook his head as he noticed the spell wards that Malcorn had placed on the doors. Typical Malcorn, he thought as he reached his hand out to open the door.

 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” An elderly gentleman with a grey beard said, placing a hand on Septimus’ shoulder.

 

“I’ve already spoken with Talia, she knows that I am getting Malcorn off your hands,” Septimus replied as the man moved between him and the door.

 

“I’m afraid that Talia and I aren’t seeing eye to eye at the moment. You would best to turn back.” The man’s leathered face looked much older than he seemed.

 

“You seem to enjoy invoking fear. I don’t like people who try to frighten others. Stand aside and I won’t harm you.”

 

The man chuckled and looked at the two guards. They both shrugged and stood their ground. This man can’t surely be serious, Septimus thought as he took a step forward. The man thrust his hand toward Septimus, but the Warlock was much too fast. He caught the man’s wrist and thrust his other hand into the man’s chest. The elderly Wielder was thrown back into the doors, causing them both to crash open, and the spell ward to release a static shock. Septimus took several steps forward before lifting the man off the ground and shoving him further into the tower. He was unsure of the man’s connection with Malcorn, but he wasn’t about to let an ally of Malcorn slip through his fingertips. The older mage tried to wriggle free several times, but was met with a burst of fire from Septimus each time. Septimus recognized the laugh almost immediately as he entered the next room.

 

“I see you’ve finally caught on to my schemes, Septimus. It appears you’ve also brought along a stool pigeon.” Malcorn was taller and thinner than Septimus remembered.

 

“This is between you and me, Malcorn. You are the failed apprentice that didn’t know any better, now it is time for the master to clean up the mess you have caused.” Septimus shoved the older mage aside and faced Malcorn.

 

“No! It is you who will be shown the true power of magic. I’m ten times more powerful than when we last met. This fool will only help me reach even higher places.” Malcorn darted across the room with speed that Septimus could scarcely believe.

 

“His teachings are weak at best. The Wielders taught themselves magic. You have nothing to learn from him.”

 

Septimus moved to intercept his old apprentice, but Malcorn was too fast. He watched in horror as Malcorn’s hands gripped the older mage’s head. The life appeared to be seeping out of the Wielder. Septimus lunged forward and placed his hand on Malcorn’s chest. His apprentice gave him a surprised look before getting catapulted backward. The attack had burned through the apprentice’s robe and left a hand shaped burn mark on the skin of his chest. He smiled as he looked from the burn up to Septimus. His eyes closed, and the burn began to slowly disappear. A somewhat worried Septimus took advantage of his enemy’s momentary vulnerability. He shot an icicle at his former apprentice and then followed it with a bolt of lightning. The icicle slammed into Malcorn’s shoulder, digging in a few inches and taking him by surprise. It was followed closely by the lightning bolt, which caused the former apprentice to stagger back several feet.

 

As Malcorn was being hit by each spell, Septimus was preparing a third attack. He thrust his hands forward, and a shockwave exploded out toward the younger magician. As the shockwave was traveling outward, Septimus created a jagged rock wall behind his former apprentice. The shockwave knocked Malcorn backward into the wall. He gasped for a breath as the more experienced magician sent a fireball at him. Septimus gritted his teeth as he strode toward his opponent. It didn’t have to come to this, he thought as he readied a small black sphere in his right hand. Malcorn’s eyes went wide when he saw the sphere in Septimus’ hand. He tried to get words to come out, but it was futile. The former master sighed deeply as his lifted his right hand and pressed it against the other’s chest. Malcorn let out a gurgling sound as the sphere absorbed into his chest. His body went limp as soon as the entire sphere was gone.

 

“What in the Maker’s name have you done to him?” The elderly mage asked.

 

“It had to be done, Wielder. Don’t question our ways,” Septimus did not even glance at the man as he walked out of the tower.