The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) Brad Magnarella (ink book reader txt) 📖

all magic-users belonged. As I studied the image of my ancestor, I couldn’t help but feel he was looking back at me, asking if I was ready.

When I nodded, I imagined him returning the gesture.

In a dizzying flash, my mind opened. The lone planet I had been zoomed out to become part of a revolving galaxy. Power hummed around my prism in a giant corona, but it didn’t overwhelm me. That power was being contained by the collective and the specters of those who had come before.

“The world is fast succumbing,” Marlow announced, “meaning Lich’s thousand-year project is almost complete. By the First Saints, we unite in a common purpose. To destroy Lich, close the portal to Dhuul, and restore the Order to the purpose for which it was originally created.”

No one spoke, but I felt the collective power deepen and move through me.

“Lich has placed Everson’s staff here,” Marlow said, pointing his wand. In the pool, a light glimmered on the side of the pit opposite the fortress. It was the same spot Lich had taken me to. “Nothing stands between us and it,” he continued. “Lich’s plan, no doubt, is to bait us in and set the spawn of Dhuul upon us. There are many, yes, and Lich is counting on them to overwhelm us so he may claim our souls and complete his portal.” My gaze shifted to the horrid creatures climbing from the pit. “But thanks to a discovery by Everson, we’ve concocted a potion that will resist their influence, hold them off longer.”

Hold them off? I thought to myself. That doesn’t sound like a plan for victory.

“While we are thus engaged, Everson will steal into the keep, find the glass pendant, and destroy it.”

“Me?” I stammered in alarm.

“Lich’s attention will be on us,” Marlow explained. “Indeed, he will be salivating at the prospect of claiming the collective soul of the resistance and turning it to his own purposes. You haven’t enough power to interest him. You’re beyond his care. You’ll also have this.” An automaton entered, holding the robe of John the Baptist. It had been repaired, its cloaking energy coursing through the fibers once more. The automaton held the robe toward me.

“The Banebrand,” I said, accepting the robe, “are you telling me I found it?”

“I’ve inspected the collected items for Whisperer magic. They’re clean, but there isn’t time to examine them more thoroughly,” Marlow said. “The only way to know whether one is the Banebrand will be to try them all.”

I thought of the collection of items in the sack: wands, amulets, the sorry-looking dagger. “If we don’t have the weapon, we can withdraw through the portal to regroup, right?” I asked.

Marlow shook his head. “Lich won’t allow it. This will be our one chance.”

I looked around at the other members of the Front, men and women who would be sacrificing themselves so that I might accomplish the impossible. Like the statue of Michael, though, their gazes were steady, resolved. They frigging believed in me. I fought the urge to look away from them. Instead, I centered myself in the collective until their resolve became mine.

“What happens after I destroy the glass pendant?” I asked.

“That will depend on Dhuul,” Marlow said. “Should he emerge before the portal fails, we will need to act. Part of our work here has been to cultivate a Word. A single, powerful note similar to that which brought the universe into being, that delivered order from chaos. Speaking the Word will drive Dhuul back. And without Lich to hold open the portal, it will collapse in Dhuul’s wake.”

I sensed a thought move through the collective.

“It will destroy us as well,” I said, voicing the thought. But of course it would. No one could survive the power of creation, not even through a collective. The Word would blow us apart.

Are you still willing? my father asked in my head.

The chances of returning alive had already been slim, but if we reached a point where the Word needed to be spoken, it would at least mean we had succeeded. I wouldn’t be alone in my sacrifice, either. I would be with my father and the highest echelon of magic-users.

I am, I answered.

He nodded. “Arianna will remain here,” he announced. “Should we succeed in our mission but fail to return, it will become her duty to locate the remaining magic-users of the world and reestablish the Order. She’ll look after Tabitha as well,” he said with a wink that made me smile despite the terror pounding through me.

A pair of automatons entered the room, each carrying a large goblet.

“The time is upon us,” my father said. “We will drink and prepare to depart.”

The automatons handed the goblets off at the end of the pool. The goblets made their way down, each member of the Front taking a sip, as though the potion was a kind of communion wine. When my turn came, I did the same. The potion was plain-tasting, but I felt its magic immediately, enveloping my mind in a protective field. I understood now that when my father had closed his eyes on our walk here, he had instructed the automatons to add an essence of cannabis to the potion.

“Don your robe,” he said to me.

As I pulled the robe of John the Baptist over my head, I noted how everything had come full circle. I’d first donned the robe on my journey here, in search of my mother’s killer and the book I’d been told sustained him. Both lies. Instead, I found the truth, a community, and a father. Now I would use the same robe to find and destroy the liar and help cast Dhuul from our world.

My father handed me the sack of artifacts. I took it and secured it in my belt.

“Wait a full minute after we’ve entered,” he said. “We’ll push the fight to the edge of the pit. That will give you ample space when you come through. But you must make your way