Free The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three) by M. R. Mathias Page B

spelled that still live. They will never truly die. This could turn into a serious problem at some point. There’s a spell, though, that the late Master Targon taught me a few years ago when I studied under him in Xwarda. The spell would reveal to me if a person was under this type of necromancy.” He paused, wrapped his hand around his long black goatee and stroked it slowly. “I think that if we can identify those men who were spelled by Pael while they still truly live, then we can counter their individual curses somehow. Master Sholt surely knows these spells as well.”
    “What are you going to do, Cresson,” General Escott asked, “walk around the realm casting a spell on folks as you pass? Those men could be scattered about anywhere.”
    “The two men in Southport would know some of the others who were on the ships,” Lord Gregory interjected. “From there we could start compiling a list.”
    “Aye,” Mikahl said. “Lady Able has a firm grasp on things in Westland. I think General— I mean Lord Spyra, might be able to handle this sort of thing.”
    “Agreed,” Lord Gregory nodded. “Spyra could use the distraction, I’m certain. The loss of his wife left him empty.”
    “Aye.” Mikahl nodded. He was pleased to have Lord Gregory’s input. It was always sound.
    “Excuse me, Your Highness,” Cresson said with a strange expression coming over his face as he hurried out of the chamber.
    “Strange one, he is,” General Escott said after the door closed behind the mage. “I don’t much like the idea of magic, or those who study it. It’s unnerving, especially in battle.”
    “He’s all right,” Mikahl said. “You should’ve met the castle wizard we had to put up with.” He shared a look with Lord Gregory.
    “What was his name?”
    “It was Pael,” Lord Gregory said with a halfhearted chuckle. “I’m sure most people think you’re a little strange as well, General.” He grinned and slapped Escott on the shoulder. “What with that tattoo-covered head and all.”
    The general’s eyes narrowed and his face bunched up into a scowl. “It’s an Ultura tradition to be inked with your Spirit Chivon once you pass your rite of passage.”
    “Aye, but on your head?” King Mikahl cringed at the idea of it. Loudin had been inked as well, but in those days Mikahl lacked the confidence to ask about more than a man such as Loudin offered. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
    “It’s more than my head—”
    The general’s answer was cut off by Cresson returning. The mage looked distraught as he hurried to get himself standing before King Mikahl.
    “Your Highness,” he began. “Master Wizard Sholt has relayed a message. It originates from Prince Raspaar of Salaya. The monks have come under attack by dark winged creatures. These things were described as hellspawned beasts and baby dragons. I assume them to be wyvern due to that description, and the description of the wounds they found on the deceased. One of the dying monks told the prince that evil was brewing in the south. The minds there that Master Sholt trusts agreed that he had to mean from the Isle of Borina. It’s the only land south of Salaya.”
    “Borina,” Lord Gregory said. “That’s where the red priests are from.”
    “Maybe they have the staff you’re after,” General Escott suggested.
    “I saw a priest fleeing Westland in the sky, on that black wyrm, not long after I killed the bitch.” Mikahl put his face in his hands and growled. “I should have known he’d taken the staff as soon as Sholt told me it wasn’t anywhere at Lakeside.”
    “The Salayans are asking for your aid in taking military action against Borina.” Cresson continued. “The creatures destroyed most of something called the Grove. Sholt didn’t know what that was, but he said Salaya’s only mage was a novice at best, and wasn’t worth questioning.”
    “Yes,” Mikahl looked at Lord Gregory for confirmation.
    The Lion Lord nodded in the affirmative. The