The Azimar Archives Book One- The Book of Death

Mothlenor

Mothlenor's heartbeat was a rapid staccato against his ribs, and for a moment he forgot how to breathe. All my work, all my planning. Stolen.

Why had his theft spell not activated?

Mothlenor blinked rapidly, forcing himself to exhale and draw in a fresh breath. The spots that had begun to form in his vision began to fade, and he was able to test his old warding spell.

"The damn thing did activate," he whispered. "And it was dismissed."

Had the thief seen through the illusion? Had it been that hastily constructed?

Mothlenor checked the small table in his bedroom again, knowing that it would still be empty. He considered searching the rest of his Tower, just in case he had moved the dragon's egg elsewhere. But he knew it hadn't been moved. And the damage to the door frame was sign enough that someone had broken in.

But who?

Mothlenor instantly thought of Nevina. Her last Coven girl had managed an escape somehow. Perhaps Nevina had found her way through the dungeon and into Mothlenor's study.

And she knew about the egg.

Mothlenor reached into an inner pocket of his robes, pulling out a long pouch fastened shut with a leather tie. He unraveled the pouch, removing a thin needle and tossing the empty case onto the nearby bed. The needle was longer than his forefinger, and topped with a large ruby, making the whole instrument heavy. The pointed tip seemed to almost glint from the light refracting off the gem, making it seem like it was already wet with blood.

With a deliberate prick and a gentle kneading motion, a fat drop of blood formed on the tip of Mothlenor's finger. Mothlenor stepped to the center of his bedroom, briefly wondering if what he was doing was wise. With a quick flick of the hand, the blood drop fell to the floor, splashing against the stone with a soft smack.

"Nevina," Mothlenor said, his voice deep with the arcane power behind it. "Nevina. You are mine to call."

The blood on the floor began to smoke, first small curls of blue grey haze, then larger billows of black. Mothlenor stepped back, instinctively inhaling the wafting clouds of burning magic. It smelled faintly of rose oil, and the smell of it stirred some small part of him. The part that still wanted the Coven witch, perhaps? Mothlenor ignored it, narrowing his eyes to peer through the smoke surrounding him.

As the room began to clear, Nevina came into view. Naked, as she had been every other time he had summoned her. But this time she was awake, as he hadn't bothered to wait until she had fallen asleep to call her to him. She stood, defiant, waiting for him. Her face was thin and dirty, and her ribs were prominent enough that he could count them. Her hair was ragged, her nails broken and caked with filth.

But she stood before him calmly, as if she had known he would summon her.

"Where is it?" The question was asked before the smoke had finished dissipating.

"I have no idea what you're talking ab–"

His hand flew up to her face, knocking her to the ground. As she struggled to her feet again, he bent over her, his anger instantly focused. "The egg," Mothlenor said coolly. "Someone has stolen it from me, while I was otherwise distracted. Was it you?" She had managed to get to her feet again. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close. "Your Coven girl managed to find a way around the cuffs long enough to magic herself out of the dungeons, perhaps you did too?" There was a slight widening of Nevina's eyes, and Mothlenor smirked at her. "Did you think it would go unnoticed? I knew before she had been gone more than a couple of hours. Her whereabouts don't concern me." His grip on her wrist tightened. "Unless she has my egg," he added with a snarl.