Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Sebastian sighed. “Would a thief in the night have all this gear set up in an open location?”
“You tell me,” Edgar replied.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Yes, it was easy to underestimate Sebastian. And yes, he clearly was a handful when cornered. I got what Austin was picking up. But clearly, that was a good thing for us. A great thing, maybe. Who would’ve thought he’d out-prepare us all and bring in a whole lab at a moment’s notice to combat an enemy that wasn’t even specifically his?
Offering a little smile, I walked closer. “Speaking of, how did you get all this gear here?” I looked at the rig for the cauldron. It seemed to automatically adjust to the heat of the fire. I’d never seen anything so high-tech look so archaic.
He paused in stirring the pot on the camping stove. “The basajaunak. I’d told…Dave, I guess we’re calling him now, that if something went sideways, I’d need more supplies. So he told me to bring my supplies to the motel, and if we needed it, he’d ask some friends to help him get it here.”
“Right, I knew you brought a bunch of stuff to the motel, but…how did he get it here?” I looked down on the open spell book. The complexity of the instructions was way beyond my level of expertise. This was master-level stuff. Sebastian-type stuff. I surmised that there were only a few mages on the planet who could handle spells and potions to this level of intricacy, and likely none but him could tweak and alter them to get even better results. “That cauldron would be impossible to safely carry up that narrow mountain trail.”
He threw a dash of something into the cauldron and then took a step back and bent. “Get low.”
I turned and did as instructed. A flash of pink light preceded a plume of purple smoke curling from the cauldron. He didn’t straighten, though, so neither did I. A moment later, a loud bang sprayed liquid up and out, curling over us in an arc.
Basajaunak screeched or scrambled to get out of the way.
“Oops.” Sebastian looked around as he finally straightened. “I forgot about warning them.” He raised his voice. “Don’t worry, it’s not acidic yet. It’s still harmless. You’ll be okay. Maybe spotted purple for a while, but that’s fun too, right? Free dye job.”
He lowered a long wooden spoon into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise three times before going clockwise once. Then he let go of the spoon. It kept stirring on its own.
“Oh, whoa,” I said, venturing closer to watch.
“It’s very thick and has its own mind,” he told me, stepping around me to get back to the book. “You get the best results when you let it stir itself.”
“Right, so how did you get all this here?”
“Oh. Yes. Well, it turns out that there’s a much easier and faster way to get into this village than that horrible route we took.” He ran his finger along a line in the book and paused to mutter to himself. “Right, right, yes. I remember now.”
He turned and grabbed something from the stump before approaching the simmering pan on the camping stove.
“When…Dave was done speaking to his mother, I told him that I needed my stuff.” He dropped in the ingredients and watched them slowly sink into the frothing liquid. Once they were submerged, he stirred it all around in a frantic zigzag. “This portion of the spell thrives on anxiety. I have plenty, so I give it good doses when I stir.” He checked the pot on the camping stove before turning back to the stump. “I went straight to bed, got a few hours’ sleep, placed magic on Cyra and Hollace so Nessa and I could get out, and pretended not to fear for my life when Edgar tracked me here. That vampire seems impervious to privacy spells. He sees right through them somehow. Anyway, Dave and his buddies helped me set up before Dave went back to his mother’s—he was in trouble, I gather—and his buddies returned to watch Niamh beat the living hell out of a drunk basajaun. Or I assume that’s what she was doing with all the screeching and clattering that was going on.”
Nessa put out her hand and toggled it. “It was a pretty even match until she rolled him through the fire. Good thinking, that. She basically did a coal roll while he had all that hair to entice the flames. She won fair and square, I don’t care what they’re saying.”
“She won the drinking portion, anyway,” one of the basandere said.
“And we are all the poorer for it,” another said. “Without the”—I couldn’t understand the word she said—“to drown our sorrows.”
“Why the hell did we have to walk over all those mountains to get here if there was a faster way?” I asked softly, grabbing an ingredient he’d pointed at on the stump.