Confessions of the Magpie Wizard Book 3: Dissolution (Chapter 99, 100, 101)

Art of Maggie by the amazing Rianne! 🦉rianne | COMMISSIONS OPEN (@RianneComms) / Twitter

Chapter 99

For once, I was able to fight my instincts. My desire to hurl a stream of curses at Maggie would only deplete my air, and I was already running low on that.

I strained against my glass prison, finding it didn’t budge an inch. Glass is rather fragile, but deceptively strong under the right circumstances, and being entombed in a solid block of the stuff qualified. I found that I didn’t have enough room to change the positions of my fingers to cast another spell besides Iron Skin, which wasn’t going to help me at all.

Or was it? I strained the fingers of my left hand as far as I could, hoping I could change the shape of the Iron Skin. I leaned on my visualization of the spell, imagining it growing to the left. Spots were forming in my vision when I risked the last of my breath on another casting.

“Iron Skin!”

The results were mixed. I created a smaller set of energy armor over my left arm and shoulder to conserve energy, and a spiked pauldron as long as my forearm punched into the library’s air. I breathed greedily as I unsummoned the energy structure, my gasps turning into a pained grunt. Shards of glass ground against me as I tried to move, slashing thin gashes in my flimsy white dress shirt.

“Kiyo? Are you there?” No response. There would be no help.

I considered my resources. I still couldn’t move my hands well enough for another spell. Could I use Iron Skin to punch my way out? Not in time; I had to find Maggie before she could get away.

I wondered why I still felt something draining away my magic, when I noticed a more regular slice of red mixed in with the riot of colors from the stained-glass window. The Svalinn’s Mercy I had cast to protect Kiyo was still trapped inside. Thankfully, I hadn’t accidentally dismissed it.

I poured energy into the floating shield. It hadn’t been protected from the liquified glass like I had, so I had to break the hardened mass that clung to it. I couldn’t see how far up I had to go from my angle. It felt like trying to wiggle a toe by remote control, but I slowly managed to build up some speed. Finally, with a last burst, the glass-encrusted shield broke through the top of the frozen waves.

I had my magical pickaxe freed, but I would have to chip away at the glass blindly, and straight at me. I grit my teeth, knowing what was to come. Our Father Below Willing, this scheme wouldn’t take me all the way to Wizard’s Desolation or rip me to shreds. Or both.

“Iron Skin!” The armor slid into place.

Svalinn’s Mercy is an impressively durable spell, but I worried that it would give out as I slammed its point into the glass matrix over and over again, before scraping it downwards to drag away the chunks it had freed. I wanted to look away as the blurry shape flew right at me, but I couldn’t move. Just as well, since I needed to make sure my aim was true.

Ever so slowly, the world before me became less of a blurry mess. One last strike freed my upper body, though my ears rang as the edge of the shield slammed into my faceplate.

I was able to gingerly climb my way out, not daring to drop the Iron Skin. By the time I had climbed out, my shirt was slick with perspiration. I felt the first leadenness of the soul that signaled I was close to Wizard’s Desolation, and I hurried to unsummon all of the energy structures I had built. I had some spells left in me, but I would have to be strategic.

“Kiyo, where in blazes are you?” I asked the empty air. “I know you’re cross with me, but you could have still helped out a little!”

There was no response. I scanned the room, not wasting energy I didn’t have on my Mimic Sight.

I was about to assume that Kiyo had forsaken me when I noticed Lucile’s barrel sticking out of the glass structure, directly behind where the Svalinn’s Mercy had been trapped.

My hand shot to my mouth. “Oh, no.” How long had I been in there? It felt like an eternity. Was Kiyo stuck inside? The area around the rifle was especially thick. Did I see a dark smudge in there, or was that my imagination running wild with a trick of the mind?

I desperately circled the half-shattered glass spire, ignoring the crunching beneath my shoes. “I can’t see a damned thing in there!” Could she even be seen? Kiyo turned into a crystalline form when she vanished; if she had been trapped in that state, she would have been impossible to detect in the kaleidoscopic colored glass.

Some part of my mind that wasn’t seized with panic told me that she would have long since suffocated. There was no guarantee she was in there, anyhow. For all I knew, she had run for help. I needed to track down Maggie and mourn Kiyo later if need be.

I rejected that idea out of hand; I had to know for certain. I had nearly killed her once with the remote bomb, and I wasn’t about to abandon her again. Not while there was a ghost of a chance.

“I thought I heard something back here! Bahadour!”

I was saved by Maggie’s heels clicking on the tile at the library’s foyer. Anticipating the attack, I leapt out of the way, barely avoiding the thin carpeting of glass I’d left behind in my escape.

The former stained-glass window was not so lucky. The red burst of hatred burrowed straight through it, melting it and sending bits of glass and Lucile in all directions. I covered my head to avoid the spray. A long, crystalline piece landed just in my line of sight. Was it my imagination, or did that look like a human finger?

Everything went red again, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

If I had been in a rational state of mind, I would have demanded that Maggie tell me why she was back. Who knows, she might have even told me. Her hand was on her hip as she said something or other, her mouth curled in a cruel grin. I’m sure it was cutting and boastful.

I wasn’t remotely in the mood to care what she had to say. I launched a Bloody Lance right back, which she just managed to block with a Svalinn’s Mercy floating about her head. The blast destroyed her defensive spell, sending tendrils of energy raking across her face. Her eyes went wide with terror, and I think she realized she had poked the bear one time too many.

“Fireball Barrage!” She threw a flurry of miniature fireballs behind her as she ran out the door. The bookshelves were her target, not me. A sensible strategy, forcing me to choose between pursuit and putting out the growing inferno behind me.

Too bad she wasn’t dealing with me in any sensible state. My Angel was gone. Maggie was drawing in air and Kiyo wasn’t. She never would again. Never make love, never chide me for being randy, never talk my ear off about some video game I didn’t fully understand, never even complain about running. It was all Maggie’s fault, and it was time to balance the scales.

I slipped my hand in my pocket, activating the technology jammer before I took off after her. There would be no escape down the elevator, unless I copied Hiro and pushed her.

No, I decided, catching a glimpse of a panicked Maggie slipping up the stairs to the roof. That would be far too quick.

I’d never been one for torture, but it seemed like a fine time to learn.

Chapter 100

It didn’t take me long to catch up with Maggie at the top of the stairs. She was in the middle of a spell I recognized as a particularly nasty hex, akin to walking through a bear trap made of solidified magical energy.

I had left my hands free for casting, so I didn’t have my sword ready. A right cross did the trick, though. Funny how for all of a wizard’s exotic powers, a punch to the face was still just as effective.

“You brute!” said Maggie, staggering back towards the Headmaster’s protective thicket, blood flowing from a freshly broken nose.

The air positively stank of lavender. Mimic would give me no warnings if Maggie tried to use Glassblower again. So, I couldn’t give her the chance.

“You think I wouldn’t hit a woman? I’m a damned demonkin! Diamond Shower!” As livid as I was, I knew I had to conserve energy until I was ready to strike the final blow. The shards of ice didn’t penetrate Maggie’s armor, but the yellow flashes showed I was draining her more.

“I thought you were at least a little refined, Not-Soren,” she spat, drawing her weapon again. “Can I have your real name? I want to know who I’m really fighting.”

“No!” I snapped, following suit. I lunged forward, my sword glinting in the afternoon sun. I couldn’t relent for a moment. She was too slippery. There would be no escape for her this time.

“Then I think Magpie will do,” she said, blocking with her own blade. “It’s the name Kiyo gave you. It’s the only one I know that belongs to you.”

“I told you, keep her name out of your mouth!”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she replied, parrying another strike from me. “If she was so great, she wouldn’t have abandoned you.”

“She didn’t,” I said, the sense of loss making my heart heavy.

Realization dawned in Maggie’s eyes. “Oh, did my trap catch her? Good. I was worried I’d missed.”

“Don’t sound so satisfied!” I was being sloppy, brute forcing my way through the sword fight. If she hadn’t been just as spent and flustered as I was, Maggie would have had me.

“You’ve lost, you know,” she said. “Your little friends are dead. If I finished off Jones, then the only ones left alive to contradict me are you and Tachibana. I’ll pretend to be one of the hostages.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

“Maybe not,” she conceded. “But after you ruined everything, I need to be the one to spin the story.”

“I ruined everything? That’s some revisionist history! Who was the one who couldn’t leave well enough alone and started blackmailing me?”

She barked a humorless laugh. “You didn’t deserve any joy! You’re wearing the name of the sweetest boy I ever knew, you faker!”

“And you think you should just go right back to your cushy teaching job after everything you’ve done?”

She reared up, her haughty look of indignation worthy of a highborn devil. “Excuse me? I did my time in bloody Madagascar, and England, and even Sumatra. If teaching degenerates and losers like your stupid class is a ‘cushy job,’ then I’ve earned it!”

“Spectral Web!” This time I caught her, the aqua tendrils of energy wrapping around her ankles. I kept a lead in my hand, and I pulled as hard as I could with my off hand. She pitched sideways, her sword skittering out of reach when she slammed into the asphalt.

“To Me!” The sword flew back into her grip, and she rolled into a sitting position, slicing through my leash.

Seeing an opening, I tossed my own sword aside to free up my hands.“Bahadour!” I was low on magic, but I had plenty of rage to spare.

Maggie pumped energy into her sword, its golden runes almost blinding as she deflected the Bloody Lance away. I had to duck to avoid it.

“How did you do that?” I had never seen the reinforcing runes on a human sword do that before.

“A lady has to have a few secrets,” she said, slashing the last of my web. “Why do you think I chose this sword?”

“Because it’s all your scrawny little arms could manage,” I quipped. If her blade could stop a spell like that, I’d have to separate it from her before I launched the killing blow. Riling her up would make her sloppy, and it was good fun in its own right.

Her sword returned to normal as she raised it into a defensive pose. “There’s nothing scrawny about me. If you hadn’t been so set on Jones, I’d have let you find out firsthand.”

“No thank you. Your boy toys tend to turn up dead.”

“You were singing a different tune earlier,” she cooed.

“It was an act,” I said.

“That was too good of a kiss to be an act,” she countered.

“And you kiss too much like a dead fish to be a femme fatale, but that’s what comes of chasing children instead of men.”

“They were all of age!” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t act like you’re better than me, Magpie. You lied to Jones, and you couldn’t keep your hands off of me earlier.”

“That was… I was…” Gnawing guilt took some of the edge off my righteous indignation. “I thought I wasn’t going to see her again.”

“And now you never will,” she crowed, thrusting with her sword. “You should thank me. Jones was an irritating little twit.”

I parried her thrust, and the swordfight resumed in earnest. We were both tired and sloppy. She didn’t try any more combat magic, making me suspect that she had burnt herself out with her trick with the stained-glass window. “I can’t believe you’re the same woman who cried over Haru Obe and Soren Marlowe,” I said. “She was your student too, you heartless bitch!”

“A defective who dated a demonkin for months without noticing,” she said. “Humanity doesn’t need her weighing us down.”

“She knew the whole time,” I said. “She just didn’t care.”

“Seriously?” she asked, ducking under a sword slash. “What a rotten judge of character.”

I flinched. I wanted to disagree with her, but she was right, damn her. I steeled myself. No, I could hate myself later once Maggie was dead.

Realization dawned in Maggie’s eyes. She’d seen the moment of weakness, how her words had slipped past my armor. “As if you really cared about her, you womanizer. You tried so hard to spare her feelings, to pretend you weren’t undressing me with your eyes every moment.”

“I did! I do!” I snapped, punctuating my words with a thrust that her enchanted cape just stopped.

“You can’t hurt her anymore, so you can stop pretending now.”

“It wasn’t an act!”

“Are you sure?” She hopped back, intentionally making her sizable chest bounce. Damn my eyes, they were drawn to the movement.

Her gambit had worked, my attention split for just a moment. For the second time that afternoon, a steel blade plunged into my gut. Not as far as Kiyo had managed, but the growing slickness in my side told me it was a good hit.

Surprising me, she didn’t immediately go for the kill. Instead, she took a step back, though her sword stayed at the ready. “I knew that would work, you little horndog. Everything about you is an act. You aren’t Soren Marlowe, you aren’t a patriot of the League, you aren’t even a Holy Brother. I bet you aren’t even English. I don’t even need to know your true name to know you; you’re a little slug who’ll do or say whatever you have to, if it would save your skin. Can you just be honest with yourself for once?”

I kept my eye on her sword. I still had a few major spells in me, but I didn’t dare waste the energy until I knew they would stick.

“You’re describing yourself, my dear,” I said. “How many of your Holy Brothers have you stepped over just to get on this roof? Haru, Soren, Rei, Paul, Ratte, Frettchen, Maus, and Neci. Am I missing anyone?”

Her face flushed crimson. “Excuse me? I will not be lectured by some demonkin about morality! Not when you killed Rei and Haru yourself!”

“You forced me to!”

“There’s always a choice, Magpie.”

“Yes, be turned over to the Wizard Corps or do your dirty work,” I said. “That’s a wonderful choice!” I felt my legs wobble.

I cursed in demonic. She’d gotten me again! This little repartee was designed to bleed me out. I didn’t have the energy for another All Heal. As satisfying as it was to shove Maggie’s sins in her hypocritical face, victory would be far sweeter.

I dropped my sword, twisting my hands to cast the spell. “Svalinn’s Wrath!” Maggie was right, I did overuse the spell. Still, the ability to will a floating black dagger into an enemy’s rear was not to be underestimated.

Maggie surged forward, trying to cut me off before I could finish the spell. My side protested as I weaved out of the way of her thrust, and a single thought plunged the dagger into her back.

She lurched forward, her face blank with shock. She collapsed to her knees, the enchanted sword falling out of her grip.

I dispelled the blade, since I had better uses for my magic. “Magic Bolt!” I aimed the blue sphere at the sword’s hilt, since it did not seem to have any runes etched into it. One always must be careful of residual magic. The blue sphere punched a hole in the roof, turning Maggie’s enchanted blade into so much dust.

“What happened…” She inhaled, a wet, ragged sound. I’d pierced a lung. I must have been tired; I had been aiming for her heart. “This can’t be how it all ends.”

“It isn’t,” I said, putting my hands in a casting pose. “Bloody Lance or Rough Spout? Your choice.”

“Wait, please,” she said. “You can’t kill me without telling me why. Why did you rush things today, just to turn traitor?”

“I told you,” I replied. “It was for my freedom, and then you had to go and threaten my friends.”

“That can’t be all,” she said, blood starting to trickle from the side of her mouth. She slumped down, using her hands for support. “There’s something about you that never made sense.”

“Yet you let me into your inner circle!” I crowed, ignoring the pain in my side.

“I thought I had won you over,” she said. “That you had seen the light. Why did you do this to me?”

A feral grin spread across my lips. “My dear, are you crying? Do try not to embarrass yourself! You’re not going to save yourself after what you pulled.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, her breath barely above a whisper. “Everyone always used me. The Wizard Corps, Tachibana, Maus. I was just a tool. I thought you were different.”

“You thought I was going to fall in line because you flashed me a little cleavage and stole a few kisses? I’m not that easy!”

“No, you weren’t one of them.” Her breathing was more labored. “My special boys… I could trust them. I was their everything.”

“And then you tossed them aside like used tissue and moved on to the next year’s model,” I said. “You even berated me for trying to save Haru!”

“The cause… he was a threat to the cause… I didn’t want to…”

The look of shock in Haru’s eyes when I’d told him about Maggie’s kill order flashed through my mind. “The cause of saving Maggie Edwards’ worthless hide, you mean.” That settled it. Rough Spout it was. It was a trickier spell, but her unrepentant ass deserved to suffer. “Goodbye, my dear.” The demonic runes swirled around my hands. I might have spent longer visualizing the spell, since I wanted to savor the moment. It might well be my last bit of joy as a free man.

Maggie thrust her hand forward, nearly toppling over in the process. “Lovely Fireworks!” My eyes were dazzled by a cascade of sparks.

“Ruhspont!” I could hear the asphalt bubbling as the potent acid did its work, telling me I’d completely missed.

“Alheln!” shouted Maggie, her husky voice gasping as the hole I’d punched in her back closed up.

My vision was beginning to clear, but not quickly enough. “When did you learn-”

I doubled over as the heel of her palm struck me right in my stab wound. “I’m a spellcasting teacher, you dunce. It’s called reverse engineering. Thanks for teaching me those runes and showing me the spell.”

“D-don’t mention it,” I managed, my vision clearing to show me a fully healed Maggie Edwards looming over me. “You know I can see up your skirt, right?”

Maggie chuckled. “I’m sure you can. I hope you enjoy it, since it’s the last thing you’ll see. Enjoy a taste of your own medicine.” She leveled her hands at me. “Ruhspont!”

Chapter 101

By all rights, that should have been the end of me. If I thought of the Enemy as being anything other than, well, the Enemy, I might have suspected that He had intervened.

Being a rational man, I can see the truth in hindsight. Wizards can’t create matter out of nothing, and Ruhspont involves gathering trace gases from the air and combining them with water vapor to form the acid, which is why it’s such a complicated spell. We were hundreds of feet off the ground on a dry August day, so I had just spent most of the available stock of both on my oversized Rough Spout, leaving Maggie with pitiful dregs to work with.

I didn’t appreciate it much at the time. Even the thin stream of watered-down acid splashing across my chest was agonizing. I doubled over, and I only kept my hands off my chest through an act of will. Ruhspont isn’t improved by smearing it around or getting it on one’s fingers. That only spreads the damage, and I’d seen enough human wizards make that mistake. An All Heal was in order; shame I didn’t have the wherewithal to make it happen.

Instead, I put my hands to better use, levering myself back onto my feet. I could barely see straight, much less focus on a spell. I wished I’d had some whiskey to dull the pain, or those delightful human painkillers I’d heard so much about. By Our Father Below, was this how Mariko’s whole arm had felt? No wonder her handwriting was still sloppy.

Maggie was occupied with glaring at her hands like they had betrayed her. Seeing the movement out of the corner of her eyes, she snapped to attention, watching me cautiously. She must have thought I was still in fit shape to fight.

Well, I hated to let a lady down, even the wicked ones. Especially the wicked ones. “That was the worst Ruhspont I’ve ever seen,” I said, managing to keep the lingering pain out of my voice. All of those jokes about Rough Spout I’d traded with my demonic fellows didn’t seem as funny anymore, but I’d live.

At least I was in better shape than the roof’s asphalt. My Rough Spout had eaten a hole wide and deep enough that I could have completely hidden myself in it, if not for the jagged wires and piping I had exposed. Maggie stepped away from the deathtrap, half-formed runes dancing around her fingers.

I rolled my eyes; I had seen that bluff a few times in England. “Are you pretending you still have magic to spare? Who are you kidding? It can’t be much, with all of the acid you’ve been throwing around.”

“You aren’t in any better shape,” she snapped. “I never thought you’d put up so much of a fight.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. If we’d both been fresh, I’d have had you in an instant. You’re lucky you had friends to whittle me down. It’s time to end this.”

Maggie cupped her ear, cursing under her breath. If I strained, I could just make out police sirens in the distance. I reached into my pocket and shut off the technology jamming fabricata. No sense stalling my reinforcements.

“You know it’s pointless,” she said. “No matter who wins, we’re not in any shape to escape. What do you say to a truce? We might be able to slip out if we work together.”

“I say don’t insult my intelligence,” I snarled. “Even if I could trust you, you killed my Kiyo.”

“Darn, I was hoping I could get you to turn your back on me.” She settled into a defensive pose, blowing an errant strand of red hair out of her vision.

“You’d have made a fantastic devil,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll pay for that.”

I considered my options. Ideally, I’d want to blind her with a brilliant spell, but her mask would negate that. I could have tried closing in and tagging her with Electrify, since one touch could have downed her. However, I decided I was too unsteady on my feet to close the gap before she launched her own attack. Bloody Lance was the best option; the Dark Lord knew I had enough pent-up anger to supplement my flagging magical reserves.

On some unseen signal, Maggie and I both started casting.

“Baha-”

I thought I saw a glimpse of movement behind Maggie, a barely seen phantom. I didn’t want to hope. It couldn’t be; she was gone, wasn’t she? It was the blood loss, I told myself. Playing tricks with my eyes.

What if I was wrong, though?

I didn’t dare fire if there was the least chance it was Kiyo. “-dour!” The words had already left my lips, but I twisted my hand upward, sending the bolt of crackling, red hatred sailing harmlessly over Maggie’s head.

“Fireball!” Maggie had no such disadvantage, and she had me dead to rights.

“Svalinn’s Mercy!” Kiyo shimmered back into sight as she threw up the shield in front of me. It was a bit malformed, but she’d been in a rush. The flames dissipated harmlessly against the energy barrier.

Kiyo staggered, clutching her head. “Crap, how do you make a million of those all the time?”

Damnation! She’d chosen a Hell of a time to succumb to Wizard’s Desolation.

Maggie started at the unexpected voice, but she was quick to take advantage of Kiyo’s sorry state. Kiyo didn’t put up much resistance as Maggie seized the smaller woman, stealing Kiyo’s own short sword to hold to her throat.

“Hands up, Magpie,” said Maggie.

“Kiyo? What are you doing here?” It’s strange to be relieved and annoyed at the same time. My heart felt lighter knowing she was okay, but

“I got the headmaster to try and get you out of that glass,” said Kiyo. “You were already gone, and then there was this fire, then he sent me ahead to help.” Her shield failed as her magic reserves cratered. She was still conscious, but I couldn’t count on any cooperation from her. “D-didn’t think I was running that low.”

“I thought you said I’d killed her. Oh well, plenty of time to fix that.” Maggie’s arm tensed, ready to draw the blade across her throat.

“Wait!” Knowing Maggie, I tried to sound as piteous as I could.

A wicked grin split her face. “Why should I?” I had guessed right; Maggie would want to draw out my misery.

“She doesn’t deserve any of this,” I said. “I’m the one who spoiled your big plan.”

Maggie scoffed at that. “She most certainly does! She’s been a constant thorn in the Holy Brotherhood’s side. Making you miserable when I execute her is just a bonus.”

Kiyo’s eyes widened in terror, but she was helpless to resist.

I grit my teeth, my mind racing as I searched for the words to save us both. I had to get them separated so I could blast Maggie, but my exhausted body and aching, pockmarked chest told me they weren’t up for any more acrobatics.

Then it hit me; I didn’t have to save us both. I was already doomed, after all. Even if I could have slipped out and met with Dante, I had failed in my mission. A lifetime under Fera and Girdan’s bootheel would be worse than a few months of torture at the hands of the League. Kiyo could still be saved, though.

“Do you think the Brotherhood is going to have any use for you after today? You’ve managed to get two attack squads wiped out under your watch! Even if you could take out Tachibana in your state and convince the League you had been one of the hostages, we know you would wake up with a knife in your back. It’s the end of the road for you, my dear.”

Maggie tensed. “Then why shouldn’t I take her with me?”

“Uh, Magpie, you aren’t helping,” said Kiyo, her gaze fixed on the sword.

I continued my sales pitch, undeterred. “Unless you do what I say, that is. You have a bargaining chip in your grasp that the League will pay dearly for.”

“You’re the only one that cares about Jones,” spat Maggie. “Plenty of defective wizards where she came from.”

“Bitch,” muttered Kiyo.

I tapped my chest, wincing as my Rough Spout wounds flared up. “No, not her. Me. You wanted my true name? Fine.” I bowed theatrically, raising myself up halfway to give Maggie my best leer. “I am Malthus the Younger, son of the Dark Lord’s Grand Vizier, Malthus the Elder. Lately from Pandemonium, formerly a Captain of the Grim Horde. A half-devil who’s been under your nose this whole time.”

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