“Return it to me,” Geor ordered, striding toward the corner where the girl stood.
She made no move to comply, crossing her arms firmly over her chest and staring him down until they were practically eye to eye.
Geor tried not to let his anger get the better of him. However, seeing the girl so impassive toward him was getting under his skin. After hundreds of years in this tower, his reputation should have preceded him. Indeed, the girl did seem to know who he was. She just didn’t seem afraid. And for a wizard who had spent his life devoted to amassing power and being feared, this was a problem he was not prepared to solve in his usual way. That is, most problems were deftly solved with a little bit of posturing and a large amount of hand waving. But Geor was getting the distinct impression that he might actually need his magic to do away with this one.
“And if I don’t?” She mused, arching a brow at him, her lips turning up at one corner.
Ah, how he hated the Makara and their cheekiness. Eliera’s followers had always been among his least favorites.
“Do not make me take it by force,” he warned, lifting one hand as if to begin casting.
Her eyes flicked to his hand for a moment and then returned to his face.
“It does not want to leave my side,” she answered, shifting her weight on her feet.
Geor scoffed. “And how do you know that?”
“It told me, of course.”
“You? It spoke to you? Impossible!” Geor could feel the sweat gathering at his brow as his mind raced. It should have been impossible. The artifacts did not speak to just anyone. There were bloodlines to consider, and ability, and… and…
The girl was watching him with that same bold indifference, waiting for him to do something. She did not seem interested in arguing with him, which he supposed he was grateful for. There was no use arguing with a Makara, after all. No, this wouldn’t do.
“I am going to ask again. Please, return the divining rod to its resting place. I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He tried a softer tact, his voice low and cajoling this time.
The girl’s nostrils flared and she let out a soft laugh. “Do not think you can scare me, mage. It is your fault that my people have wandered lost for so many generations. Eliera would never hurt one of her own. Now, I mean to walk out of here if you would please move out of my way.”
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It was Geor’s turn to be defiant. “And if I won’t allow it?” He asked haughtily.
The girl nodded, as if she had anticipated this response. Then she began murmuring something under her breath. To Geor’s ears, it sounded almost like a lullaby although he could not make out the words.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do not play me for a fool. I am not afraid of your folk magic, girl. The Makara were never as powerful as the mages of the order, even with the divining rods. Besides, there is only one of the pair here. The other was lost to history. You cannot use it alone.”
If she heard him, she did not react at all. Instead, her lips continued moving in a steady rhythm, barely perceptible words wafting away before Geor could make any sense of them.
He had to do something, he realized. It was true that the Makara lacked much of the power that the mage’s order possessed, but that did not make her harmless. And if the girl spoke the truth about the divining rod speaking to her, he had better get it out of her hands at whatever the cost. It was too soon. Too soon for magic to return to Andrysfal. Too soon for Geor to give up his life’s work.
“Mage Consul?” Harpyn interrupted, his voice reedy and unsure.
“Not now,” Geor grumbled, waving him off without letting his gaze slip from the girl for even a moment.
Knowing that there was only one solution to his present problem, Geor raised a hand over his head and began casting his own spell. Whatever the girl meant to do to him, it would have no effect if his spell was cast first, because he meant to send her back outside where she belonged, without the divining rod, of course.
Raising his voice over hers, he called upon his magic, letting it flow through his fingertips and into his body before he swung his arm down in a broad arc and threw the teleportation spell at her with a triumphant roar.
There was a short delay before the spell struck her, and in that instant, Geor cast a second spell of telekinesis, grasping the divining rod firmly with all of his mental strength. The girl’s eyes went wide with surprise as the rod bucked in her hand, but she furrowed her brow and clung tightly to the thin handle even as Geor could feel it slipping out of her sweaty grasp. He tugged harder with his mental energies, willing it to slip free before the portal had completely opened, but it was too late.
A moment later, she was gone and the room was silent save for the pounding of Geor’s blood in his ears. Cursing himself, he whirled on Harpyn, stalking forward to grasp the young mage by the ear.
“See what you’ve done now?” He growled.
“Ow!” Harpyn wailed, but Geor gave his ear another twist and his howls turned to whimpers.
Geor dragged Harpyn out of the room, slamming the vault door behind him. Geor was so caught up in his next move, he did not hear whatever Harpyn was babbling about. He had to remind himself that all was not lost. The girl had escaped with the divining rod, but it was of no use without its mate. Besides, there was no way a girl so young could harness the power of the divining rods. Judging by the looks of her, the damned thing would turn up in the marketplace within a few days, traded away for some morsel of food. He would simply have to send Harpyn out to find it.