But there were other ways to defeat them.
Raising my arm, I sent a fresh wave of magick out from my left hand. A blue haze filled the air around the skeletons. The mist solidified into a hailstorm of tiny teeth, each one sharp as a razor. The miniature bones sliced through the skeletons, shredding them into a pile of white shards.
I allowed myself a small smile. It was a good bit of spell casting. There was no time to gloat, though. Kamilla was still able to fight. I needed to draw in more energy for the next round of our battle. I pulled fresh power into me, but it came through as a thin trickle. The problem was obvious. After breaking the wards, my body felt as shredded at the defeated skeletons. Even as I summoned in more power, I knew I wasn’t fast enough.
Kamilla raised her fist. The totem rings gleamed on her fingers. “Bone needles.”
By the Sire. Not bone needles.
Another blue mist formed on the gallery floor. It twisted into a small vortex that pulled up all the bits of broken skeleton. My heart sank. As much as it hurt to break through a magick ward, bone needles would be far worse.
The haze settled into the floor. I made to run, yet my legs wouldn’t go fast enough. Long needles of bone shot out from the floorboards, forming a makeshift cone around me. I felt every sharp tip as it pierced the top layer of my skin. I froze in place. Any more movements would only cause me pain.
Kamilla stalked up to me. A satisfied smile rounded her mouth. “Whatever shall I do now?” She tapped her chin. “I could skewer you through the brain which would mean a fast death. And where’s the justice in that? You deserve to suffer for your crimes.” She snapped her fingers, and a long needle of bone pierced through my thigh.
I kept my features calm. Whatever happens, don’t show any pain. “Isn’t it the Vicomte’s right to choose how I die? Surely, he would want me brought to him.”
“I’m a Grand Mistress. I keep my own counsel on how best to protect my master. Until he has enough Necromancer power, I’m going to keep him from the likes of you.” She snapped her fingers again, and another sliver of bone jutted into my stomach.
It took everything I had not to moan. My insides felt on fire. Now I was a good mage, but I was also a practical one. I knew when I needed help. This was definitely one of those times. I reached inside my soul for whatever magick I had left. There wasn’t much, yet I focused it all into one word. “Tamu.”
“How dare you? That’s a Creation Caster word.” Kamilla bared her teeth. The bone crawler under her skin began to shift again. She set her hand on her throat. “This is what you did to the Tsar, isn’t it? Creation Caster magick combined with Necromancer power. You want to destroy the Vicomte just like you did the Tsar.” Her face turned wild with rage. “I won’t allow it! Do you hear me?” She raised both arms high, and bone needles sliced through me. Arms, legs, belly, lungs… The needles pierced my body and burned with pain.
Kamilla stood only inches away from me. With a snap of her fingers, a bone needle began edging toward my face. It pierced my cheek, its angle leading it directly toward my brain.
This was it. I was good as dead.
I took in a deep breath, although the movement caused a riot of pain in my punctured lungs. If I was going to die, it wouldn’t be while groveling and telling lies.
“So you know, Kamilla. I wanted to kill the Tsar. The Sire and Lady wouldn’t allow me to. And if I had the chance right now, I’d kill the Vicomte.”
“How I’ll enjoy watching you die.” Kamilla slowly raised her hand, her fingers poised for a final snap that would mean my doom.
She didn’t notice the haze of red mist forming behind her. Although my body was pierced through with agony, I could only smile.
Rowan was coming.
The red haze solidified into his familiar shape. Tall, broad shoulders, wide chest, and a body that was solid as a mountain. His hair was wild and his features were drawn tight with rage. He took one look at the scene before him and pulled out both the short swords from his back. The blades didn’t make a sound.
Rowan leaped forward, kicking Kamilla to the ground. She rolled over and stared up at him, her eyes glazed over with confusion.
“What?” She stammered. “How?”
Rowan raised his short swords high. “I don’t like to kill women as a rule. But you know the saying. Destroy the mage; destroy the spell. And you’ve cast a bad spell.”
Sweat beaded across her forehead. “I’ll take it back.” She snapped her fingers. The bone needles retracted into the floor. I fell forward onto my knees. Blood dripped from my mouth. My body was covered in tiny stab wounds. “See? She’s free now.”
Rowan looked over to me. All the rage in the realm shone in his eyes. “Sometimes, I break my own rules.” He brought his swords down in a scissor-like motion and lopped off Kamilla’s head. Her face was frozen in a scream as her skull rolled across the floor.