Spellbound by Blake Charlton

had cast at him. Could it be the boy hadn’t used either wizardly language?
    Footsteps sounded down the hall. Nicodemus came sprinting into view. The ghost stood, waiting to see if the boy’s hand would shine silvery or golden.
    But Nico only lunged at him. The ghost dodged left, partially hiding in a thick stone wall. Nicodemus turned and tried to grab him. Shannon drew himself completely into the wall and then stepped out a few paces away.
    Nicodemus looked at him, panting. There was no sign of Numinous or Magnus in his body. He wasn’t even going to try.
    â€œYou left the valley too soon!” the ghost would have said if his throat could have made noise.
    Again Nicodemus lunged. Shannon jumped over him. “Creator damn it all, Nico!” the ghost silently cursed. “You left the valley too soon!” He peeled a Numinous sentence from the stump of his right arm and edited it so it would read YOU LEFT TOO SOON! The ghost waited for Nicodemus to turn around before casting it in his face.
    Nicodemus jerked his head back and then pulled the golden sentence from his cheek. The instant it touched the boy, the line began to misspell. By the time Nicodemus had completed a translation, it read YU LEAFT TUH VALEE TWO SOON!
    A chill filled the ghost. Nicodemus’s cacography in Numinous had worsened dramatically; he was now essentially illiterate in the wizardly languages.
    Nicodemus leapt for him again, and again he missed. With a wrist flick, the ghost cast a question: “Why did you leave the valley?”
    Nicodemus threw another punch. Shannon dodged left and threw another line: “WHY? TELL ME WHY, DAMN YOU!”
    Nicodemus swung again. Shannon jumped back and was about to cast another sentence when he saw the pain in the boy’s eyes.
    Shannon stopped.
    â€œI couldn’t watch you die!” Nicodemus growled. “You’re dying. The cankers. They’re killing you. Any day now, you’ll die. I had to try to get the emerald and cure you. Damn it, I had to try!”
    The ghost swallowed. He had a good idea why Nicodemus was trying to deconstruct him. But he needed to hear the boy say it. He wrote another question: “But why deconstruct me, the ghost?”

    Nicodemus swung again. Shannon ducked under the blow and repeated the question: “Why try to deconstruct me?” And then added, “Let me be one with my author before he dies!”
    Nicodemus laughed bitterly. “You don’t know what you are. Typhon’s agents took you from us. He’s had you for a year. If the demon has let you free, it’s because he’s using you against us.”
    The ghost tensed, ready to dodge another attack. But Nicodemus only glared at him, his chest heaving. “Typhon has rewritten you. You’re not Magister Shannon’s ghost.”
    â€œI AM Shannon’s ghost!” he threw in response. “I’m meant to be one with him! Trust me, please.”
    Nicodemus shook his head. “You’re just the demon’s weapon, like Deirdre was back in Starhaven.”
    A realization sent a chill through the ghost. He didn’t actually know if the demon had rewritten him or not. He did not feel rewritten … but how could he know? The demon was masterful enough to rewrite him so as to hide what he had done. “Oh,” the ghost said to himself in shock. “Oh!”
    Nicodemus tensed and seemed about to strike out again when it shot through the window. White sailcloth and steel flashed in the sunlight. The warkite snaked toward Nicodemus. The boy ducked under the talons and thrust his arms into the construct’s belly. Instantly, the warkite went as limp as a tablecloth. His cacographic touch had misspelled its every sentence.
    But just as Nicodemus tossed the disspelled kite aside, another flash of white shone at the window. More warkites. The constructs were reacting to the chthonic runes tattooed on Nicodemus’s skin. They