image
image
image

Chapter Twelve

image

––––––––

image

ONVIER SAT AT HIS DESK, staring down at a list of names. They were the top ten candidates he’d shortlisted to become the final potential member of his triumvirate. Most were elves, but a couple were fairies. All were bound to him through the spell he’d cast that had siphoned off some of their magic. It would be easier to control their triad if he already had a hold over their third member.

His room was warded against intruders in his absence now, but he didn’t bother to keep the spell active when he was in his office. His nights were full of meetings. It was bothersome to have to create and dispel the enchantment multiple times each evening.

At that thought, someone burst into his office. Onvier pointed his wand at the intruder, but it was just a lackey rather than an assassin. “You’d better have a good explanation for disturbing me,” he said threateningly.

“My lord, another guildmember has just been murdered!” the minion replied. The fairy was pale and was breathing heavily from racing up the stairs. “The elf was found dead at his desk only a few minutes ago!” he exclaimed.

“Take me to him,” Onvier said and pushed his chair back from his desk to stand up. This was the second murder now and his guildmembers were on the verge of panic. He’d managed to hide the attempt that had been made on his own life. Only Azazel and the Immortal Triumvirate knew an intruder had invaded his sanctum. The demon would keep his mouth shut, since it would shine the spotlight on himself if his presence at Onvier’s office was discovered. Their leaders hadn’t said anything to anyone about it and it was unlikely that they would. Everyone knew they had killers on their payroll. It was one of the worst kept secrets in Nox.

The pair descended to the second level and the Guild Master pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered. “What are you all standing around for?” he asked with a scowl. “Return to your usual duties!” They scattered at his order, but a small group remained. He assumed they were the dead elf’s coworkers. “Did any of you witness the murder?” he asked.

“No, my lord,” a timid young fairy said. Few lackeys had wings and she was no exception. “None of us saw or heard anything.”

“Who found the body?” Onvier asked next.

“I did, my lord,” a male elf replied. “His body was still warm when I noticed him, so he’d only been dead for a short time.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to get anything useful from these morons, so Onvier turned his back on them. He motioned for his escort to remain in the hallway and pushed the door open. “Stay here,” he ordered before any of them could come any closer, then he walked over to the corpse.

The cause of death was obvious when Onvier came to a stop beside the body. The neat hole in the center of his forehead had most likely been made from a spear of air. Anyone with any degree of power could have pulled it off. Only someone with great skill could have murdered the minion from forty or so feet away with such precision.

He didn’t find anything else that was useful and backtracked to the door. Sensing traces of a teleportation spell, he locked onto it and followed the trail. It took him to the Shifter District rather than to the Fae District as he’d expected. He managed to follow another faint trace of a second teleportation spell to another suburb in the District, then it faded away to nothing.

“This was definitely the work of one of the Immortal Triumvirate’s assassins,” the Magic Guild Master murmured. Personally, Onvier didn’t care if all of the low-level lackeys in his guild were wiped out. He didn’t really need them, since they had so little magic for him to steal. If he lost any of his more powerful allies, then it would become an annoyance.

The only reason he’d bothered to follow the trail was so his guildmembers would believe he was looking into the murders. He hadn’t bothered to question the Immortal Triumvirate about the first murder, because he already knew they were responsible. If he made too big a fuss, he could very well be the next one to be eliminated. As much as he hated the idea, it was best to stay under the radar until he’d formed his own triumvirate.

Feeling eyes on his back, he remembered that someone wanted him dead. For all he knew, this could have been a ploy to lure him out of his office. He hastily erected a shield of air that was strong enough to deflect most spells. The sense that he was being watched increased and he turned to face an alley. Three pairs of feral eyes were locked on him.

“Rogues,” the elf said uneasily when he realized the shifters were all in their bestial forms. He took an involuntary step back when one of the shifters growled. It was enough to incite them into attacking. They rushed towards him, roaring with hunger.

Onvier lifted his wand and blasted the ravenous beasts with fire. Their roars turned to bellows of pain as they went up in flames. The fire was almost instantly quenched by the rain and the creatures kept on coming. The Guild Master switched to using ice and froze the lead beast. The other two darted around the werewolf and lashed out at him with their long claws. One was a werecougar and the other was a werebear. It was unusual to see three shifters from different species banding together. The fact that they were mindless rogues who should have attacked each other on sight unsettled him even more.

His shield deflected their claws before they could rip him apart. He froze the other two monsters to death, then tried to decide what to do with them. A skeleton broke off from pruning a tree and shambled towards them to get rid of the bodies. “Well, that takes care of that, then,” the elf said in satisfaction.

His smug grin faltered when howls sounded from somewhere close by. More rogues had been drawn to the area from the noise of battle. From the sounds of it, there were several packs. Onvier didn’t want to waste his precious stores of magic on fighting the insane animals. He needed to save his strength for when he would eventually challenge the Immortal Triumvirate.

Firmly convinced that he wasn’t fleeing out of fear, Onvier teleported back to his office in the Magic Guildhall. He’d forgotten to ward it when he’d been called away to examine the dead lackey. Keeping his shield in place, he couldn’t sense anyone lurking in the room, but he carefully searched everywhere for intruders before closing his door.

He’d barely sat down before a knock sounded. Uttering a sigh, he called out for the person to enter. It was the same lackey who had come to get him earlier. He’d been lurking in the hallway, waiting for him to return. “Did you find the culprit who murdered our guildmember, my lord?” the minion asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Onvier replied gravely. “I tracked the killer to the Shifter District, but lost his trail.”

“Will you speak to the Immortal Triumvirate about this, Guild Master?” the minion asked deferentially.

“I’ll be sure to exchange words with them the next time I see them,” Onvier replied vaguely. It was inconvenient that he couldn’t lie, but he was adept at skirting around the truth.

“What should we do with the body?” the fairy asked.

“Send a letter to the elf’s family, advising them about his demise like we did the first time a guildmember was murdered,” Onvier said. “They can come and collect the body and inter him in one of the cemeteries in our District.”

The fairy bowed his head and scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“Honestly, do I have to think of everything myself?” the Guild Master murmured in exasperation. “This is the price of being a leader,” he told himself, then he returned to perusing his list of candidates.