Pandora's Box (The Heirs of Cataclysm Book 2) by Christopher G. Nuttall

Author:Christopher G. Nuttall [Nuttall, Christopher G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Mythology Press
Published: 2022-12-19T16:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Seventeen

“What—”

John didn’t give the leader a chance to finish his sentence. He cast the first spell immediately, aiming the fireball at the leader’s head. The man tried to bring up his staff to deflect the fireball, something that might have worked, part of John’s mind noted, if the spell had been cast by a more precise magician.

The fireball exploded, scorching the leader’s face, and causing him to drop his staff. John’s second spell caught him in the chest, and sent him flying through the air, to crash into a building on the far side of the road. Another man came at him, waving a stick as though it were a magic focus. John had no idea what he had in mind, but he had no intention of waiting to find out.

He cast a levitation spell and sent the man soaring into the heavens. He’d have a very long way to fall when the spell wore off.

“Bitch,” a third man snapped. He was charging Jayne, swinging his staff like a madman. “You—”

Jayne cast a spell through her tattoo. The man staggered as if someone had punched him in the head. John didn’t give him time to recover. He snatched up a fallen staff and brought it down on the man’s head, sending him tumbling to the ground. Another man came at him from the rear, raising his staff to throw it at John’s head. His throat exploded in blood a second later, his body crumpling.

Scout materialized behind him, her face grim. John knew Joyce was going to scold her for joining the fight, but he found it hard to care. She’d probably saved his life. Again.

He glanced at the girls. Jayne looked frightened, but ready to fight. Jane appeared to have frozen. John understood all too well. Some people just weren’t used to violence—or mentally prepared for a peaceful shopping trip turn into a desperate fight for survival and escape.

There was no time to let her snap out of it on her own. John picked her up, threw her over the horse’s back—it was sheer luck their would-be captors hadn’t thought to steal the horse—and then looked around for the bandit leader. He was sitting against a wall, groaning. John was mildly surprised he wasn’t stunned. The impact should have done more damage than just knocking the wind out of him.

“Come here,” John said, casting a summoning spell. The bandit screamed—John realized, too late, that he must have been hurt worse than it looked—as he flew toward John. There was no time for pity or sympathy, even if John had been willing to extend it. He cast a stunning spell, knocking the man into slumber, then threw him over the horse, too. There was no point in tying him up. The spell would keep him asleep for several hours.

“This way,” Scout said. “Hurry!”

John nodded. The sleepy town was coming to life, men staring at them with unfriendly eyes, while women peered through the windows, or banged shutters closed as if they could shut out the world.

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