The Spell Realm

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scrolls, but she was also loyal to Ganir. “Keep in mind,” Augusta said softly, “that these scrolls contain dangerous knowledge—knowledge that was used to create this thing that we need to destroy. If you don’t take them and hide them in the depths of this library, I may have no choice but to incinerate them. I can’t leave them lying about unattended. They could easily fall into the wrong hands, you see?”
    “No.” The word sounded like it was torn from Dania’s throat. “No, you can’t destroy these. I’ll take them, and I’ll give you that vote.”
    “Good.” Augusta smiled again. “I knew we’d see eye to eye on this. Now I also need a book on locator, paralysis, and energy drainage spells, as well as a few texts for the physics project I’ve been working on.”
    And with that, her mission was complete. Now all Augusta had to do was wait for the vote and hope that she had not misjudged Gina after all.

Chapter 10: Barson 
     
    Stealthily making his way through the Tower halls, Barson fixed his hood, making sure it covered his face. So far, no one had paid him any attention, making his plan of staying hidden remarkably easy to implement.
    Approaching the now-empty Guard barracks, he took a look around to confirm that no one saw him, and entered the familiar quarters, lowering his hood on the way. As expected, his allies were already there, gathered in the room that typically served as the training area for the soldiers. Barson had asked Dara to send a Contact message to all of them, and it appeared they received his invitation.
    There were five sorcerers standing there—three men and two women. At his entrance, the youngest, Kira, stepped forward and gave Barson a smile. “Hello, Captain,” she said warmly. “We’re glad to see you alive.”
    “Indeed,” Vashel chimed in, his hands nervously playing with the hem of his tunic. “We’d heard some very disturbing rumors recently . . .” A short, thin man of indeterminate age, he had been among the last to join Barson’s cause, and he still seemed anxious about his decision.
    “You should know better than to trust rumors. I’m not an easy man to kill,” Barson said, barely managing to veil his contempt. He hated weakness and indecisiveness in all its forms. Vashel hadn’t been among the five sorcerers Barson had originally approached, and if it weren’t for the fact that Ganir managed to get rid of two of his potential allies, Barson would’ve never considered working with the man. As it was, however, he had to hope that Vashel’s ambition would outweigh his cowardice.
    “I think we all know that,” Noriella said calmly, looking at Barson. A talented sorceress, she, like Dara, was tired of being denied opportunities for advancement. She had been the first outsider to join his cause, and Barson admired her for her determination to take matters into her own hands. “That’s what we’re counting on, in fact.”
    The other two people in the room—Pavel and Mittel—remained silent. The two middle-aged sorcerers were cousins, though they looked similar enough to be twins, both possessing bright red hair and freckled complexions. From what Dara told Barson, they were as close as brothers too, having worked together on some bit of arcane research for decades. It was the Council’s peremptory shutting down of that research that prompted them to ally themselves with Barson. Apparently a sorcerer denied his research was a dangerous thing—a fact that Barson noted for future reference.
    In general, all five of his allies were frustrated with the current regime. Their specific reasons were different, but it all boiled down to their unhappiness with the Council and the hierarchy within the Tower. Peasants weren’t the only ones who felt neglected and oppressed by the ruling body of the land; many lower-ranking sorcerers were just as upset, their feelings aggravated by the sense of entitlement all members of their class possessed. To

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