The Mud Fisher's Catch by Jude Mire

Author:Jude Mire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jude Mire
Published: 2024-05-02T00:00:00+00:00

THE WOMAN SCREAMED as Wick's magic struck Sinnar and knocked him to the ground. Curling his fingers in the fume, Wick wrapped it around Sinnar like a constrictor and squeezed. It had difficulty holding him securely. The tendril slipped off of Sinnar's wooden parts and could find no purchase. He needed him held still, to penetrate his mind. The Prince stopped trying to control the false limbs. Instead, he took hold of the real ones and twisted them to the breaking point. Sinnar screamed and clutched one arm with the other, preventing the bone from snapping. It was enough to hold him still.

Wick dove into his mind.

What he found in Sinnar's mind though, was not what he'd expected.

When he'd pulled Ellet from the River Gleam, all those years ago, she'd had a bottle of memories with her. Wick had heard rumors of a theft in the Chancel Cellar, he realized what it was he possessed; Sinnar's original memories, drawn from the Kings. Ellet must have found a way to steal them and, now that he had her, he had them as well.

He'd turned over the woman, but kept the bottle. He thought, someday, if his father angered him enough, it might be fun to pour back into his favorite toy. He had no idea that Ellet had already captured Sinnar, drained him again, and Wick himself had sunk him into the River Gleam.

As he dove into his rival's thoughts, his mistake became clear. It was no empty puppet he fought against, weak with a near-empty mind. He confronted Sinnar, the foe from before the Kings had captured him. The strength of his will was far greater than Wick had expected.

If Sinnar had his oldest memories, what was in the bottle that Wick possessed?

Wick felt Sinnar's mind curl from under his control, flipping in a swift motion, like a wrestler's reversal. Even as Wick began to form the picture of what had happened, he forced the revelation from his mind. Knowledge would mean little if he couldn't subdue Sinnar. He refocused and pressed his attack.

Pain had worked to solve the problem of Sinnar's wooden limbs. Perhaps pain would work again. Wick shaped the mental image of his smoke into knife and stabbed at Sinnar's mind, pushing a rapier thin blade into his softest memories. Wick impaled the recently returned thoughts, driving into them with all his energy, with the intention of driving Sinnar from his knowledge. Without knowing his magic, there was little he could do to defend himself.

As he shoved, there was a sudden collapse, as if he'd been pushing against a door that swung open. His energy toppled forward, dropping away. His mind fell, like a body tripped, about to hit the ground.

But it didn't.

Just before impact, he experienced the sensation again, another collapse. Mentally somersaulting, his descent continued. Wick realized that his effort was folding in on itself. Again, Sinnar bent his mind like a sheet of paper, and Wick felt himself careening into the crease. He tried to pull back, but it was too late.

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