Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 32

Viggo moved on instinct, his fists blurring and smacking into flesh as he ducked and weaved. Evander stood at his back, the ice and wind he’d manifested fending off dangerous spells as the mages least affected by the disruptor rod resumed their attacks.

They fell into a rhythm, moving together as if they’d fought side by side for years. When a spell slipped past Viggo’s guard, Evander was there to deflect it. When a mage got too close to Evander, Viggo was there to put them down hard.

Even in the heat of battle, that fact thrilled Viggo like little else could.

Still, he couldn’t shake a niggling sense of unease even as they fought.

This felt all too convenient. Too perfectly set up. His gaze swept the chaos, searching for the puppet master behind it all.

A mage crouched behind the altar a short distance away. He was watching the melee with calculated interest.

Unlike some of the others, his eyes didn’t glow red.

He must be the leader !

“Evander!” Viggo jerked his head towards the altar.

Evander followed his gaze. “That’s the man suspected of killing Millbrook.” His expression hardened. “Cover me!”

Viggo shifted closer to Evander and used his bulk to shield the mage as they advanced across the church. Solomon, Rufus, and the officers still conscious noticed their movement and adjusted their own positions to provide additional protection.

The dark mage’s lips curved in a cruel smile when Viggo and Evander neared the altar. He seemed undaunted by their approach.

“The Ice Mage and his pet Brute. How touching.”

Viggo ground his teeth and took a threatening step forward. Evander’s hand on his arm held him back.

“It’s over.” Evander’s voice was cold and steely as he addressed the dark mage. “Release your hold on those mages and surrender.”

The man’s laughter sent a chill down Viggo’s spine.

“Oh, I don’t think so. In fact, I think you’ll find this is only the beginning.”

He raised his hand, the ring on his finger pulsing with a surge of malevolent energy.

Viggo tensed, ready to push Evander out of the way of whatever spell was coming. But instead of attacking, the mage snapped his fingers.

Dark magic bloomed from the inky gemstone atop the ring, wrapping the man in thick billows that quickly concealed his form.

Viggo’s eyes rounded. “What the?—?!”

Startled shouts rose behind him and Evander. They spun around.

The dark mages were fading within identical black clouds, the ones they held sway over dragged passively into the sinister miasma.

Their leader’s mocking voice echoed around the church.

“Until next time, Ice Mage.”

He melted into the shadows faster than Viggo’s eye could follow.

“No!” Evander rushed forward with an outstretched hand.

His fingers closed on fading wisps.

Evander’s chest heaved as he stood there, his expression glassy with disbelief.

“We need to go after them!” Viggo was already moving towards the door at the side of the church. “They can’t have gone far!”

Evander shuddered and grabbed his wrist. “We can’t.” He met Viggo’s confused gaze and shook his head, frustration thickening his voice. “We need to stop the fire from spreading!”

The screams and shouts rising from outside finally registered in Viggo’s hearing. His heart sank.

He followed Evander as the mage moved swiftly towards the main exit.

The magical fire in the building had started to abate. Evander created a tunnel of wind for their safe passage nonetheless.

Viggo’s throat closed up when they emerged from the church.

His worse fears had come to pass.

The blaze had spread and was engulfing the surrounding area. Flames leapt from building to building, fed by dry wood and thatch and fuelled by dark magic.

Viggo spotted Finn where he stood in a bucket chain at the bottom of the hill, his red hair bright against the billowing smoke and his face covered in soot as he and the volunteer brigade that formed the fire squad in this part of the slums shouted directions at the petrified locals. Solomon joined him, the thrall having slipped out of the side of the church to avoid the Met officers inside.

Evander’s face set in grim lines at the sight of the chaos gripping the ghetto.

“I have to stop this fire. Or this entire neighbourhood will burn!”

Viggo’s heart thundered against his ribs, all thoughts of pursuing the escaping mages gone from his mind in the face of the destruction being wreaked around them.

“ Can you stop it?”

Evander clenched his jaw at the question before starting down the hill.

“I have to try at least. It’ll be too late by the time the Phoenix Brigade and the Salamander Corps get here.”

In contrast to the Soot Squads of the East End, the Phoenix Brigade and the Salamander Corps were elite fire services that employed highly trained mages and utilised advanced magical artefacts, the Salamander Corps specialising in magical and alchemical fires.

Viggo had often expressed his disgust at the irony of those two squads mainly serving the richer suburbs of the capital. The chances of a large-scale fire breaking out was higher in the slums, where non-magical means of lighting and heating were still extensively used.

He curbed his bleak thoughts and fell in step beside Evander.

“What do you need?”

Gratitude flashed in Evander’s eyes as he glanced his way.

“Just…stay close.”

Emotion tightened Viggo’s chest. That Evander was calling on him for support made him incredibly happy despite the awful circumstances.

To his surprise, Evander stopped halfway down the slope. He took a deep breath and widened his stance.

Viggo realised he needed the vantage point to see where to direct his magic.

The air around them grew heavy with power as the mage raised his hands.

Water coalesced out of thin air above the burning buildings, forming swirling streams that danced at Evander’s command. He guided them to the flames, dousing fire after fire from the furthermost blazes and working his way inward.

Goosebumps broke out across Viggo’s skin as he watched him work.

This was what it truly meant to be a mage. Not just raw power, but the ability to shape the very elements to one’s will.

He could see the toll it was taking on Evander however. Perspiration began beading the mage’s brow and his breathing grew increasingly laboured as he fought to control the massive amounts of water he was conjuring.

The closest conflagrations resisted his power, still tainted with dark magic.

“Dammit!” Evander cursed.

He retracted his powers and shuddered as he pressed his hands to his knees.

The water drenching the air dissipated.

Viggo’s stomach churned. They were going to need the Salamander Corps after all.

Evander wiped rivulets of sweat from his face with the back of his hand, brow furrowed and gaze dark with resolve.

“Viggo?”

“Yes?”

“Brace yourself.”

Viggo blinked at the warning, confused.

The mage straightened, his jaw clenched tight. He spread his arms a little and closed his eyes.

A different kind of magic imbued the air, strong and thick with the rich smell of fresh earth. The ground started shaking beneath Viggo. He stumbled and widened his stance, startled.

Movement drew his eyes. His breath froze.

Soil was lifting off the ground, tiny particles that moved against gravity as they rose in the air. Viggo looked around jerkily as the tombstones in the graveyard began trembling.

Evander’s eyes snapped open.

“If you can’t douse a fire with water, you can choke it with earth!” he growled.

The muscles in his neck bunched. He grunted, his face red.

Viggo stepped closer without thinking and placed a hand on his back. A tremor ran through the mage’s body at his touch. But Evander’s concentration never wavered.

Then the topsoil on the entire hill heaved, causing grave markers to tilt precariously and smash into one another, and the church building to creak.

Viggo and Evander were left standing on a narrow hump of intact dirt.