Read Online Magic Zero by Christopher Golden, Thomas E. Sniegoski - Free Book Online Page A

Ivar’s face remained void of emotion, as it often was. Only the dark, angular patterns that flowed across his pale body as he fought hinted at the fury raging within him.
    The assassins did not stand a chance; even with their magical blades of liquid metal, they were easily outmatched. Ivar lashed out, his movements a blur, and two of the creatures fell, bleeding, to the ground, their lives slipping away.
    The last of the small killers suddenly spun around and scrambled up the stairs, three at a time, with Ivar in pursuit. Timothy watched captivated as the assassin stopped at the top of the stairs, waving his hands in the air, fingers contorting.
    “Caw! He’s conjuring an escape route!” Edgar cried, diving and swooping in long circles high above the foyer.
    But even as the rook raised this alarm, a tiny hole of solid black appeared in the air above the assassin. The black hole began to grow, and air began to rush into it with a loud, hideous sucking noise. The creature sprang into the opening, slipping into nothingness. Ivar reached out and snagged the assassin’s ankle as a hissing bolt of white energy struck the circle of darkness. The escape route was violentlyclosed and the fleeing sorcerer was severed midtorso.
    Shocked and repulsed, Timothy turned to see where the deadly bolt of supernatural energy had originated and for the first time became aware of the stranger in the house. He was a tall, older man, thin and almost regal, with a long, silver mustache. The strange mage stood beside Leander; at his sides, his hands were still wreathed in a crackle of magical energy.
    Timothy stared down from the circular staircase at this newcomer, who had about him an air of authority and power. “Who . . . who are you?” Timothy asked.
    Leander seemed about to reply, but he was interrupted as the regal figure gave a curt bow of the head and began to speak.
    “I am Nicodemus.” His voice was rich and melodious. “Grandmaster of the Order of Alhazred.”
    The Grandmaster’s piercing eyes focused upon the boy, and for the first time since arriving in his father’s house, Timothy felt like an object of curiosity.
    “I am most happy to make your acquaintance, Timothy Cade.”
    A terrible dread filled Leander Maddox. His chest felt tight, as though he could not get enough breath, and he felt cold, though he knew the house was quite warm enough. He watched Timothy’s familiar glide across the room. A moment later Edgar touched down upon the boy’s shoulder.
    “Are you all right?” the bird asked. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” Edgar craned his neck, surveying Timothy’s body for injuries.
    “I’m fine, Edgar,” the boy answered, a slight tremor in his voice. “Just a little shaken up.”
    Fine, yes. But had Nicodemus and I arrived any later . . . Leander did not want to entertain such thoughts. A terrible truth had begun to make itself clear to the young mage: His mentor, Argus Cade, had not been entirely wrong to think his son would be in danger should the world learn of his existence. By removing him from the Island of Patience, by bringing him through that secret dimensional door, Leander had put Timothy’s life in peril. Though he’d had the boy’s best interests in mind, his heart ached with the burden of guilt.
    Now Leander moved toward the stairs and motioned for the boy to join them in the foyer. “Timothy, please come down here.”
    The boy descended the remainder of the circular staircase. Just as Edgar had done, Leander examined the child for injuries. Timothy had been lucky. The Cuzcotec were notorious for the savagery exhibited upon their chosen enemies. If the boy had been alone in the house . . . Leander couldn’t even imagine the consequences.
    “It’s okay, Leander, really,” Timothy said, managing to muster a small, nervous smile.
    Leander brushed the boy’s hair back affectionately. He had quickly grown quite fond of Timothy. He was brilliant, his father’s son, and yet