His clothes clung uncomfortably against his skin in the humid air. Zenik had never much cared for Stranglethorn’s weather, nor the pervasiveness of the Steamwheedle Cartel’s presence. He had very few business contacts amongst the mob of goblins who made their home in the Bay, but they had confirmed what his scrying had told him. His daughter had been spotted in the city.
His attempts to scry her exact location failed, although he could tell she was at least in the vicinity. Tarnik was of little use; after surveilling the AAMS offices, the imp had returned, chattering in agitation and useless details. It was of no importance. Renzly was of his own blood and bound by his control.
That made it even more unsettling when he felt that connection break. It was inconceivable; not just any hedge wizard would have the skills and materials necessary. Not even death would have the same effect. She was alive, outside of his immediate vision, and dangerous.
Not dangerous by herself, of course. He had done everything in his power to make sure that Renzly was incapable of casting a spell and avoid the visions of her bringing his own demise. However, someone had broken his control over her, which meant that she must have had help. Help from someone who knew how to use blood magic and could use Renzly against him. It was vital that he regain control of that tool.
He’d decided to travel to Stranglethorn in hopes that proximity would improve the effectiveness of his scrying spells. A perusal of his notes reminded him of a small cave he’d used once before. He had set up the first of his perimeter wards when the thought occurred to him to make an extra ward against Renzly’s approach, on the chance that she remembered about the cave. He set the ward in place and grinned in satisfaction at the nasty surprise she’d receive.
He then went inside the cave to set up new scrying spells. A nagging sensation bothered him, but he dismissed it. There was always a nagging sensation of having forgotten something these days.
Zenik had always been fond of documenting his experiments and research; now those notes were proving to be crucial. The memory curse on the Goldwick girl had been a botched job, done in haste and rebounded upon himself when it broke, even a year later; his mistake mocked him every time he realized he was repeating himself. He scowled at the necessity of looking over his notes just to remember which scrying methods he’d already attempted.
All he’d learned so far was that something was masking Renzly’s signature. He sat next to his scrying bowl, contemplating his next move. He tapped the edge of his cane against the ground, summoning the imp he knew was nearby.
Tarnik immediately appeared by his side, his usual noisy self. “Master call? Go look for Little Miss again?”
“No, I have another task at the moment. Go collect some branches for a small fire. And this time don’t char so much of the wood first.”
“But Tarnik’s job is to watch Little Miss, always to-”
Zenik waved a hand imperiously at him. The imp reluctantly scuttled outside. Perhaps if he started searching for the Goldwick girl, she’d lead him to Renzly. His magic still lingered on her. He went to his notes, looking for the passage detailing Specimen Zero’s experiment.
“Master! Master!” Tarnik suddenly shouted from outside. “Not Little Miss!”
Zenik raised his head, frowning at the excited demon. “What trouble are you causing now?” He stood from his scrying bowl and went to investigate. Tarnik waited at the cave’s entrance, pointing excitedly to the side. A mere half-second later, a wave of ice shards came from that direction, slamming the imp into the cave wall.
He scowled and gripped his cane, activating the extra wards he’d placed upon it. Whoever was outside had managed to sneak past his wards. Wards, he now realized, he had forgotten to finish beyond the first perimeter. A figure stepped into the light streaming from outside, silhouetting the familiar form.
Renzly? Impossible! She stood confidently before him, wielding, of all things, a wand.
“How-” he managed to croak out before the blast of magic landed near his feet, or rather, near his cane. The shock- both physical and mental- caused him to lose his grip on its handle. It clattered on the ground.
The instinctive reaction to retrieve his cane overrode any further protests his brain had of, How? What is the meaning of this? Zenik snatched it off the ground moments before another blast of magic would have destroyed it. He threw his free hand across his face to protect his eyes from the kicked up dirt and stone.
Now was the time to begin reacting properly to a magical duel, no matter who his opponent couldn’t possibly be. Zenik summoned a shield of fel fire, not a moment too soon as he saw a dagger of ice aimed at his head dissolve in the flames. He raised the end of his cane to point at the intruder; the fel fire coalesced into a ball and shot itself at the cave entrance. He retreated deeper inside to where there was more room to maneuver.
Renzly expertly sidestepped and deflected the ball of flame. Zenik muttered a curse, preparing his own defense against another arcane attack as she raised the wand. The spell, however, wasn’t aimed at Zenik.
The arcane bolt soared above Zenik’s head. Chunks of rocks and dust rained down. He dodged the first few boulders, but the dust obscured his vision and a third rock slammed into his shoulder. Another weight crashed into his legs as he stumbled, crushing and pinning him to the ground as the world momentarily blacked out in a pained daze.
It had been barely a minute since the first attack, and Zenik found himself trapped underneath the rubble. His legs were completely crushed; he could feel his life’s blood oozing from his shattered appendages.
The intruder approached him in the settling dust, wand carefully aimed to defend herself. Her grip was the perfect, yet casual hold of someone long acquainted with a wand’s use. It was clear that this intruder could not be Renzly; there was no way she could have become so experienced without his notice. Impossible!
And yet the visions… the long-ago visions…
“Who the fel….” Zenik gasped. “Always thought…. dangerous… but not even possible…”
Renzly offered an idle shrug, the wand charging slowly with power even as she kept a careful distance. “Part of me tells me it’s the far better option to kill you right now,” she spoke with Renzly’s voice, if not in her usual manner of speech, “though the other is rather curious about so many things.”
Zenik groaned and raised his head slightly, subtly looking for where his cane had fallen, a plan coming to mind. If he could keep her speaking, distracted… he was normally opposed to using his own spilled blood to draw on for power, but he had little choice.
“Shame to… deny… one’s curiosity, isn’t it? Knowledge… power.” His cane was only an inch or so away from his fingers.
She shrugged once more. “I’m not really interested in power, truth be told. You’re a horrible old lout that’s preyed on young women for your own ends. I doubt I need to know much about the intricate details.” The wand flared.
Zenik’s fingers grasped around the tip of the cane in a desperate attempt-
And then the world went black a final time.
(9/10)
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