shouted, 'What are you-'
'I can't see! I'm blind!' A sob of panic drowned Sunbright's voice. Strong of arm and body, the barbarian was terrified of being rendered helpless. Now he howled involuntarily as a flea clamped its mandibles onto his knee.
'Get down!' Candlemas shouted. 'Drop!'
Desperately the wizard racked his brain for some all-encompassing spell. Noanar's fireball would incinerate everything in sight, set off a chain of explosions that could level the tower. General Matick's shields were useless, for the bugs would just jump over or around. And they must be destroyed. Aksa's shatter? Ptack's brittleness? If Candlemas had a fault, he knew too much and became paralyzed trying to choose. Nor was Sunbright helping. Used to battling alone, the barbarian had no intention of ducking from a fight.
What to do? The insects were like hot coals tearing up his laboratory and the two men. Even now one skipped away from Sunbright to leap at Candlemas, and the wizard found himself stepping away from the threat. Heat wouldn't mean much to them with their tough, leathery hides. But the opposite…
Invoking Kozah, the Storm Lord, Candlemas shot his sleeves, locked his fingers, and conjured. The spell took form instantly, for his fingers ached to the bone, then to the wrists, then the elbows. He couldn't hold this enchantment long A flea leapt. Instead of backing away, Candlemas stepped to meet it.
A slap to either side of its head did the trick. Veridon's chiller sank magic deep into the beast's core. Its rust- red carapace was suddenly brighter, reflected in morning sun from the high windows, as the insect was coated with a layer of ice an inch thick. Frozen solid, the thing tilted down and thundered at Candlemas's feet, icy legs and claws shattering against stone. Clumps of frozen bug landed on the wizard's sandaled feet, leaving a wet, chill, ugly feel on his hairy toes. Irritated, he kicked the thing away and dashed around the long table.
Sunbright had sunk his sword into another insect by sheer instinct, but he'd lodged it in the chitin behind the beast's round head and the keen hook had fetched up again. As the barbarian yanked and twisted desperately, another flea crashed into his chest, knocked him loose of his weapon. Sunbright was slammed on his back, winded. Grappling the beast, he only cut his fingers on its sharp claws.
Candlemas worked as fast as he could. He touched a flea before him on two spots on its back. The chill touch rippled through the beast where the hands touched, like an icicle hammered through its body. The creature's back end was frozen solid while the front legs scrabbled to whirl and attack. It would die shortly, Candlemas knew, but he skipped backward, for those living claws could still rip. Circling, cursing, he swung wide of the struggling insect and laid hands on the bug on Sunbright's chest. A touch at head and rump froze the monster instantly. The blinded Sunbright hissed as his fingers were frosted from the periphery of the spell. The bug fell with a clatter, small legs snapping like frozen twigs.
Candlemas scanned the room quickly. Hadn't there been a third-still alive?
He grunted as the bulky beast crashed into his back. Candlemas flopped atop Sunbright, who'd been uncoiling upright. The men banged heads, then the bug crushed Candlemas's face to the stone floor. His hands locked under him still retained magic, and Candlemas felt ice frost his rough smock and belly. Greedy mandibles gnawed at the back of his bald head. 'Get it off! Get it off me!'
A gutty grunt answered, and Candlemas saw a big iron-ringed boot sail by. Leather thudded into the flea's belly and flipped it over. Sunbright followed, grappling madly like some drunk. He stepped square on Candlemas's rump before he stamped down hard on the insect's gut to pin it. The gasping wizard winced at the crunching, tearing noises, rolled far enough to see Sunbright, still blind, ripping wriggling legs and claws off the insect like dead branches.
When the last pair of legs had been yanked off, a red-bathed Sunbright reared back and rubbed at his eyes with his wrists. 'Thank Selune! I can see! But gods above, it stings!'
Candlemas pushed upright, cast about wildly for more insect enemies. But apart from the de-limbed one writhing impotently on the floor, all were dead, some drilled through, some frozen solid, some chopped to hash. Bug parts and smashed pots lay everywhere. Candlemas himself was wrapped in torn and spattered clothing, while Sunbright was painted head to toe in bug guts and blood, some of which was his own. His long shirt and goat-hide vest hung in tatters. Gasping, he pawed his red eyes clear and blinked painfully.
Sunbright asked, 'What were you saying?'
Candlemas sank on his hams on the floor of his ruined workshop and found himself in a puddle of ice water, the last vestiges of his chill touch spell. He sighed, 'I said, it's nice to be home.'
Stumping across the filthy, littered floor, Candlemas pulled tassels to ring faraway bells. Despite seeping wounds, fiery pain, and swollen eyes, Sunbright saw first to his weapon, scrubbing ichor from the blade and touching up the edge with a stone plucked from a belt pouch.
Harvester of Blood was Sunbright's weapon, his father's sword, forged in some unknown southern land. The shank of the sword was as wide as three fingers, but the tip swelled to a curved and brutal edge where the backside was cut away to a deep hook. A good blade for slaughter and mayhem: wide-pointed for stabbing and driving home damage, heavy-nosed for lopping and slashing, back-barbed for sinking into an enemy's vitals, then causing terrible damage twisting and ripping out. A weapon to destroy man or beast or pit fiend, and Sunbright had killed them all in his adventures since leaving the tundra. One reason he'd survived was because he always honed Harvester's edge before tending to his own wounds.
Before long, a clutch of lesser wizards and black-and-white-clad maids swirled in, wondering when their master had returned and exclaiming at the wreckage and wounds. Candlemas ordered the lot to shush, demanded hot water, rags, and brooms. Within a few moments, sculleries were stuffing bug carcasses out the window, mopping up blood and sweeping up crockery. Two wizards blathered apologies to Candlemas while two maids undressed him. When the women and girls made to disrobe Sunbright, the barbarian let them close enough to swab his eyes with deliriously warm and clean water, but when they picked at his leather laces and rags, he pushed them at bay with bloody hands.
The babble was horrendous, everyone gabbling at once.
The chief assistant arcanist, a green-robed woman named Kalle, apologized over and over, '… sorry, Lord Candlemas. We thought it best to move the breeding boxes here where it was quiet in your absence…'
A clerk called, '… Lady Polaris is asking for you, my lord. She says it's urgent and you must…'
Kalle's assistant, a older man in red robes named Gibor, blathered, '… just a tad too much magic in the wrong place. Instead of growing tougher they grew bigger…'
Sunbright brushed in vain at helpful maids' hands. 'Candlemas, tell them to desist!'
'My lord, it's all this fool's fault. I had no idea-'
'Not true, Lord Candlemas, not true! She insisted we come up here-'
'How could you have been so stupid?' Candlemas roared at his mages as maids removed his sandals. 'You know this workshop is saturated with magic-What is your problem, Sunbright?'
'They're trying to tear off my clothes!' Older maids tsked and younger ones giggled as they plucked ineffectually. They wore plain black-and-white gowns, aprons and caps, the house colors of Lady Polaris.
'What did you expect? You need a bath! Kalle, I'll have you scouring toilets if you don't come up with a better reason-'
'I can bathe on my own!' Refusing to strike the women's hands, the barbarian backed into a corner. Two maids giggled so hard they had to hold their stomachs.
'And you, Gibor! What kind of moron…' By now, Candlemas wore only a loin cloth. Maids scurried out with his torn, bloody clothing. None of the servants seemed to mind his paunchy, hairy near-nakedness. 'What? No, you can't bathe on your own! A lord is never alone, or at least not often! A gentleman is tended by underlings!'
'I'm no gentleman!' Sunbright retorted. A maid sneaking up from behind caught his long shirt and ripped it up the back. Sunbright yelped. 'Stop that!'
The clerk insisted, 'Lady Polaris promised to bleach my skull for a birdhouse if I didn't tell you immediately…'
'My lord barbarian,' pouted the head maid, Hamuda. 'If you'll just allow us-'
'I'm no one's lord!' Sunbright barked. Sensing a draft, he looked back and saw his own white rump. 'My shirt!'
'To blazes with Lady Polaris! I'll send to her when I get a moment! Salve this cut, will you, it stings like fury! Get used to it, Sunbright! You're one of the rulers of this castle now, even if you are my underling!'
