A world once at the height of magical technology and social order has collapsed. How and why are the least of the wizard killer’s worries.
Leaning my bloody head against the back of the crashed levitating carriage, I flex my cramped fingers. With a renewed grip on the mana-pistol, I steal a quick breath. The others better wake up fast, otherwise we’re all going to burn.
Written using a binge-TV show model, Season 1 contains 20 pulse-pounding episodes, and is an all new side to best-selling YA author, Adam Dreece.
“Madmax meets Lord of the Rings” – Goodreads.com
Kill me with a floating city? You got my attention. But then steal from me and try to burn me alive? You got me thinking.
I think I’m going to find your yigging, walking carcass and introduce it to two friends of mine: pain and vengeance.
By the way, I borrowed a lightning rifle. Don’t worry, I’ll return it… empty.
See you soon,
The Wizard Killer
Season Two kicks everything up a notch with 22 all-new, action-packed episodes!
The sunlight from the door stops two feet into the room with no rhyme nor reason. Stepping into the room, I close the door and take my hat off.
I stand quietly, listening to the creak of the floorboards under me, waiting for my eyes to adjust. The room seems barren, except for a counter a few feet away.
“Gah… that sound.” I put a finger in my ear and give it a good shake.
A silhouette appears behind the empty counter. “These are dangerous times,” it says, the voice soft and melodic.
The head turns and I’m thrown off. It’s like staring at a star-filled night sky.
Swallowing nervously, I nod. “You’re the last of the free librarians I take it.”
There’s a scream outside, followed by another.
My hands twist my hat, and I stare at the door. “I’m…” I turn and face the librarian. “I’m told you’ll have an answer for me. Though, I hate to say it, I wasn’t told what the question was.”
“The answer is a yes. A wizard can be killed through means other than simply time and frailty of the body. There’s a High Acolyte who knows… in Banareal. He’s learned the secret experiments of his master, the Wizard of Banareal. The Wizard suspects him of treachery. It won’t be long before the High Acolyte is arrested and tortured.”
“Are we supposed to get him before he’s arrested? After?” I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Staring at the floor, an image comes to me. “Old man. Is he an old man?”
I can feel her staring at me; I’ve thrown her off.
“The High Acolyte will be alive for some time, though barely. The Wizard will experiment on him, to see if it’s possible to make an acolyte into a weslek.”
“So, we need to get him out?”
“The wards won’t allow him to leave the laboratory alive.”
I glare at the librarian. “How is this helpful?”
Several gunshots go off on the other side of the door. It’s followed by screeches and a wave of that bone-chattering sound.
“I must go,” says the librarian, pushing open a door at the back, the room filling with sunlight.
Wincing and turning away, I raise a hand. “If I follow what you’re saying, then we need to get him out of there. How do we do that?”
“Take his life from him then give it back. There are a few who can craft such magical weapons. You’ll need to be careful, and make it discreet.”
“Like one of the soldiers’ short swords?”
I wish she had an expression; I can’t tell if she’s agreeing or staring me like an idiot.
“We are out of time.” She exits and the back door closes, leaving me standing in the dark.
The screams outnumber the gunshots. There’s that clicking sound coming from everywhere, even above me somewhere.
I crack the door open a bit and look. The scene doesn’t make sense, people shooting at nothing and being ripped apart by nothing.
Without thinking, my hand goes into one of the long coat pockets and pulls out an orb. It’s maroon and sleek-looking, with a silver streak. Holding it up to my mouth, I mutter some words without thinking. The orb pulses.
“It’s the H. A. of Banareal that we need. He’s going to be taken soon, we have a limited window of time. Wards will stop us from taking him, so we need to suspend his life. We need to find someone who can put that kind of enchantment on a common item, like a short sword. Suspend his life; then we get him out of there.”
Leaning against the doorframe, sweat drips off my forehead. Bowing my head for a second, I recall someone warning me that the orb could suck the life out of you, but wow, I wasn’t ready for this. I feel like I’ve got the flu of the century.
I stroke the silver streak of the orb. It pulses once, and it’s done. I stuff it back in my pocket.
Alright, now I’ve got to get out of here.
Pulling the door open fully, I take in the gruesome scene. There are pieces of bodies everywhere.
Across the street, I see terrified people huddled together on the second-floor balcony. If this was a Scourge Patrol, they wouldn’t be safe up there, and I’ve known Scourge Patrols to be brutal but never to rip people apart like what I’m seeing.
I’m not taking any chances. I step out of the building, closing the door behind me. Glancing each way, I don’t see any fighting going on.
I give the orb a squeeze and toss it into the air. It falls, like a lump, to the ground.
I shuffle over and scoop it up. “Come on, you’re supposed to go.” Tossing it again, I glare angrily as it lands without dignity on the brown, dusty, main street.
Picking it up and shaking my head, I notice the sheriff’s body, one of his arms missing. A thought slips out from my foggy memories and I look around. “Whatever they’re doing that’s causing the red haze, there’s not enough mana in the air to activate the magic for the orb.” I glare at the ground. “What was I supposed to do?”
As if replying, the sheriff gives me the answer. “It needs more from me.”
Just then I catch sight of a blur in the wind, then two more. This isn’t what I needed.
I reach down and snatch one of sheriff’s long-barreled pistols. Spinning the chamber with the back of my hand, I see its got three hopes of me living loaded. It’s not much, but it might be enough to get me to more.
Scanning about, I notice that only the door to the general store is closed. Maybe people are holed up in there, or maybe it’s a front for something. Either way, it strikes me as a good place to go.
I make a dash for it, the clicking bone on bone sound erupting from everywhere. The people on the balcony start screaming and crying. They’ve probably watched and heard this play out a dozen times already; now they’re waiting for my torturous end. I hope to disappoint them.
Peeking over my shoulder, everything’s deformed and distorted, like I’m looking through warped glass.
“The wind spiders are all around you!” yells a woman from the balcony.
I’ve never heard of wind spiders.
Sliding to a stop in front of the general store, I turn and accidentally shoot blindly. Yig, down to two.
Holding the orb tightly up to my chest, I wait, my heart pounding. It feels like each thought of mine is fighting through a raging river to get heard, and the river’s growing.
My eyes dart about, waiting for the inevitable. Everything’s quiet.
I scream as something slashes my leg. Falling to the ground, I drop my pistol and put a hand over the bleeding wound. It’s like someone’s put warped mirrors all around me, making the whole world look weird.
I rub my blood hand on the orb. “That’s got to count for something,” I mutter.
The orb pulses twice as I get slashed again, this time from the left and right.
I feebly lob the orb into the air. My heart sinks as nothing happens, as it falls towards the ground. But then it turns, arcing up, and vanishes.
With renewed vigor, I grab the pistol and scramble backwards to the general store’s door. I bang on the door with one hand, and fire at a warped area. Nothing on either front.
I crane my head, looking up at the door, and bang hard again. Then I gasp, as something pierces my chest, pinning me to the door.
All I can get are short, shallow breaths. There’s blood seeping out of me.
Glancing about, I see there’s a slight purple in the air. Then I see it, in all its terrifying glory: the wind spider. It smells of death, and radiates sweaty heat.
I plunge the pistol into where I figure its mouth is and pull the trigger.
Yellow goo goes everywhere, and the other blurry images back off, at least for a moment.
The pistol tumbles out of my hand as it goes numb. I can’t breathe. My head hurts.
I close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
Adam Dreece kicked off his indie author career with his best-selling steampunk meets fairy tale series, The Yellow Hoods, which struck a chord with kids 9-15 and adults. After four books in the series, the former software architect put out two more young adult books, the post-apocalyptic fantasy book The Wizard Killer – Season One, and then his science fiction novel, The Man of Cloud 9. The first two novels in The Yellow Hoods series, as well as The Wizard Killer, have been finalists for Book of the Year awards from the Independent Author’s Network.
When he’s not working on his next book, Adam can be found giving talks at schools, libraries, associations, as well as comic-con type events like CalgaryExpo and FanExpoCanada on subjects from how to get one’s ideas out and stepping outside of one’s comfort zone, to how to give a successful book signing.
Along the way, Adam has faced many challenges, including working around his Dyslexia (reading and writing disorder), and needing to be ruthless with his time and energy in face of his severe asthma and chronic abdominal scar pain. He’s become an inspiration to some, and a symbol of tenacious hard work to others.
He lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada with his wife and children. He is an active online mentor at adamdreece.com, and is a busy public speaker, panelist, and author in Canada and the Pacific Northwest.
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