Bloodflowers Bloom (The Astral Wanderer Book 2) D'Artagnan Rey (early reader books TXT) 📖

“What? No! I mean, did you—” He stopped and sighed as he shook his head. “Never mind. I’m only making sure he’s dead.”

“Well, he was bleeding badly.” The swordsman sat next to his friends, took his sheathed sword off his back, and placed it beside him. “And the sword ran him through. After that, I knocked him into the rift.”

“You knocked him into it?” Asla asked, her voice still a little faint as she attempted to sit.

Devol looked at his hand. “It wasn’t my plan but he attempted to attack me and… Well, I hit him with enough power to push him into the pit and he fell into the rift as Wulfsun and Farah finished shutting it.”

“Trapped in the Abyss?” Jazai looked at the dome, which was now not even a fourth of the size it had been when they first arrived. “I would prefer a body, but there ain’t a chance he can make it out of that. Even if he had a marble or something to teleport to our realm, they don’t work in the Abyss. At least, that’s what Zier told me.”

“So, it’s over then?” Asla asked and her gaze settled on the dome. “We won?”

The swordsman gave her a wide and very tired grin as he stood. “Yeah, we did. We helped close the rift and we were able to…to…” He wavered and his sight grew blurry for a moment. He stumbled and Jazai began to stand to steady him. Devol held a hand out to stop him, then placed it on his face and wiped the sweat off. He felt dampness around his eyes and realized they stung. For some unaccountable reason, he was tearing up.

These were tears of happiness, right? They had accomplished their mission, everyone was all right—injured but alive—and yet… He looked at the bodies of the scholars, guards, and soldiers burned by Salvo on his way inside. The fire magi had said that he had killed hundreds during his life. He was not a good person and was as much a monster as any Devol had fought or slain up to this point, But as his tears began to flow more freely and created tracks down his face, he looked at his blood-soaked majestic.

Asla waved someone over as Jazai stood and walked closer to him. “Devol, what’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t…” he stammered and rubbed the tears from his face. “I don’t know. G-give me a minute.”

“Asla, Jazai, how are ye?” Wulfsun asked as he strode up to the group. “Good job holding off that bastard and making it out. Do you need—” Asla stopped him with a shake of her head and pointed at Devol.

The Templar needed no explanation. He merely nodded and moved to the boy, who tried to dry his tears. “Hey, lad, come with me for a moment,” he said and placed a hand gently on his back. The young swordsman nodded and slid Achroma into its scabbard as they wandered to the other side of the hill.

The silence hung between them as they walked. Devol looked over his shoulders at the small group of survivors. “Are they okay?”

Wulfsun noted the direction of his gaze and nodded. “Some have injuries and a couple of the scholars are still in shock. None of them were prepared for something that brutal.” He sighed and ran a hand through his wild mane of hair. “Unfortunately, that’s the world we live in, though. There are many bastards like fire magi out there.”

“Salvo,” he replied and focused on the dome, which was now about the size of a house. The area it had possessed remained withered. “He was one of the magi who attacked us during our mission in Rouxwoods.”

“I remember Vaust talking about him,” the Templar said quietly. “That mask of his…was that a malefic?”

“Yes.” Devol stopped beside a group of bushes. “It was…alive, I think. There was another presence in Salvo and he became more and more erratic as we fought.”

“I’ve not seen it before but I’ve heard about it—the demon mask.” Wulfsun folded his arms as he looked into the sky where dawn had begun to break. “You know, the first time I ever heard about it was when it was used in battle. A soldier and his squad were pinned down by a cult of some kind causing trouble in Britana. During a raid, the soldiers were able to snatch the mask, although they had no idea what it was.

“While they were under siege, a soldier put it on and he was able to wipe out the cultists in a matter of a couple of minutes and saved his team.” He sighed, closed his eye, and shook his head. “In the end, though, the mask continued to call to him even after he took it off. He stole it from the same military stronghold he had turned it in to only a week before. His body was found a few months later in a cave, scrawny and pale. Locals from the village near the cave said they heard odd screams at night, most likely from him. They never recovered the mask after that.”

“Do you think Salvo killed him for it?” Devol asked as images of the mask appeared in his mind.

“That is doubtful. Vaust said Salvo told him about how he got his wand by stealing it from his master. The last time anyone had seen the mask was more than a decade ago and he would have probably still been an apprentice at the time. My guess is whoever he worked for had it done or did it themselves.” He eyed the young magi with concern. “Did he say anything about that, boyo?”

“Working with someone?” the boy asked and tried to recall. “Besides Koli—the other thief from before— I can’t remember anyone else. But he kept saying he would see a ‘new world’ or something like that.”

“A new world eh?” Wulfsun stroked his beard, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve heard proclamations like that all too often