Free The Sorcerer's Bane by B. V. Larson

her—perhaps her eyes had cleared of their madness with the passing of time.
    What he found there in the dirty bedchamber left him shaken. The scullery maid with mannish arms lay sprawled upon the stone floor. Her right foot was missing just above the ankle. The wound was clean, as if it had been chopped away by a headsman’s axe. There was no sign of the foot and no sign of the blade that had removed it. Emptied of blood, she had expired quickly.
    Gawina herself was tied to the straw mattress, just as he had left her. The oily-black madness was gone from her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, her face cold and still. Death had glazed-over her lovely, almond-shaped eyes. The manner of her death was abundantly clear. A broken broom handle, snapped to form a crude stake, had been rammed home into her chest. Gruum fell to one knee and reached up to close the priestess’ eyes with a trembling hand. He questioned the emotions he felt. He had witnessed countless deaths…why did her passing trouble him so?
    “Why?” he asked the empty chamber.
    “Because a debt must be repaid, silly Gruum,” said a voice behind him.
    Nadja stood in the doorway. Gruum turned to face her. He had not heard her arrive. He had not found anything living in these passages, save for a few rustling vermin.
    “You did this ?” he demanded. “You slaughtered an innocent raving in her bed?”
    “You cared for her?” Nadja asked. “Even after she plotted to kill you?”
    “Why would you do this thing, Nadja?”
    “I did her a favor, really,” the girl sniffed. “She was mad. The dead would only have found her and devoured her later.”
    Gruum shook his head. He did not know what to say. He considered killing Nadja—if he could. Then he had a new thought. “You said this repaid a debt. How so?”
    “You did the same to my mother,” Nadja said. “Don’t you remember? I cared for her as you cared for this woman.”
    He stood up and rubbed his face. “How could you possibly know…?”
    “I’ve seen it in father’s dreams. He dreams of my mother often—of her final moments.”
    Gruum stared at her with fresh horror, knowing her words to be true. “I’m sorry, but you should not have—”
    “You must leave this place, Gruum,” she said. “There is nothing good left in Corium.”
    Gruum stared at her, and watched as she did a most surprising thing. She reached out her hand to the nearest wall of crudely-mortared stones. Where she touched the wall, a hole opened. A moment later, she stepped into the space thus created. After she had vanished, the hole vanished behind her.
    Gruum stepped to the wall and ran his hand over it. He found it intensely cold to the touch, so cold that it burned him. Moving quickly, he went out into the hallway to examine the far side of the wall. It was blank and undisturbed.
    “Void magic,” he whispered to himself, wide-eyed. He raced out of the room and left the silent servants’ quarter.
    When he reached the central plaza of Corium, Gruum found Therian standing at the top of the central stair. Nearly a thousand armed soldiers and citizens stood with him.
    “Milord, can we speak?” he asked. “It is urgent.”
    “Why have you left your post, Captain Gruum?”
    “I bring grave news. Step aside with me, and I will tell you, sire.”
    Therian reluctantly did as he was asked. He stood looking down dourly into Gruum’s face. “Say your words, man.”
    “Void magic,” whispered Gruum.
    Therian eyed him. “What of it?”
    “There is another here who wields it. I have witnessed it.”
    “There are many dabbling sorcerers here, Gruum. Now, please return—”
    “She made a hole, sire. A hole in the wall right in front of me. Then she stepped inside and the hole vanished behind her. The stones were so cold to the touch after she’d gone….”
    “Who did this?”
    Gruum hesitated. He opened his mouth slowly, looking around to see if any others might overhear.
    Therian raised his gloved hand to stop