Serpent's Bane (Snakesblood Saga Book 3)

by Beth Alvarez

  “Yes, Archmage.” Her amber eyes sparkled when she smiled and he felt the pleasant stir of the fatherly emotions the girl always had elicited from him. He stroked her dark hair before he made his way to the door. She hurried ahead to open it for him, then accompanied him the short distance to the parlor where the royal mages spent their day in practice and study. She clasped him in one last embrace at the parlor door. “Thank you again.”

  “Speak nothing of it, child.” Nondar waved a hand as he waited for the mages to open a Gate. When it stabilized, he excused himself from her side to step through the portal and back into his own office. The poor girl, inheriting such a problem and then worrying herself sick over one of its smallest challenges. Nondar shook his head and turned his gaze to the ledger on his desktop. The temple's finances, now there was a problem to worry about.

  He sighed with resignation and started toward his desk, staggering when his balance faltered. The cane in his hands was all that saved him. The floor looked so far away, all of a sudden. He held out a hand to steady himself for another step.

  He never made it to his desk.

  8

  Freedom

  It was the best thing he'd seen in months. Rune exhaled and turned his eyes to the ceiling, mouthing a silent thank-you as he pushed the door closed behind him. Privacy was precious enough, but what stood against the wall of the small room had to be worth half his father's fortune at a moment like this.

  He tossed aside the fresh clothing he carried and stripped out of the grungy, tattered garb he'd worn through his stint in prison and the months before. Dipping his clawed fingers into the steaming water proved it almost hotter than he could stand. Almost.

  Tired muscles protested as he climbed into the tub and were soothed the moment he sank into the water's welcoming heat. The half-healed wounds from the prior week's beating stung at first; he ignored them until the sensation went away. He'd been told to make it fast. He didn't plan to. A proper bath was a luxury he'd not been afforded since leaving Elenhiise and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

  The soaps on the shelf above the tub were simple and didn't smell like anything, but for a bath chamber inside the soldiers' barracks, he didn't expect anything otherwise. They suited his purposes fine, suds stripping the layers of filth from his skin and the grit from his hair. The water cooled before he finished and he considered reheating it before he realized magic still hovered just beyond his grasp. It seemed unlikely they'd still guard him after he'd agreed to join their ranks, but without Redoram nearby to ask for certainty, he'd just have to assume they still did.

  Rune left the water feeling refreshed, and for the first time in ages, he felt human. Or, as close to human as he could ever feel. A wry smile crossed his face and he tore his eyes away from his clawed and scaled feet.

  He toweled dry and dressed as best he could. The small buttons gave him some trouble, and he fumbled with them for some time before he got them through their holes. The uniform was simple; plain trousers and a collarless shirt in a matching dark gray, accented by broad bands of color at the tops of the sleeves. He recognized the colors from the flags that flew over the palace and the arena, each symbolizing one of the three provinces united by the Royal City. The uniform was to be worn under a soldier's armor, he assumed. They hadn't bothered to give him boots and his claws clicked on the wooden floor when he walked to the door.

  “About time you were done.” Garam waited on the other side with arms crossed and a sour look on his face. No matter his expression, Rune didn't figure he'd been waiting long. The man jerked his head toward the entrance. “Time for a haircut.”

  “What, you do not think mine suits a soldier?” Rune smirked and ran his fingers through his wet hair. It reached his shoulders now; with how matted it had been, he hadn't realized the length.

  “Don't.”

  Rune's brow furrowed. “What?”

  “You said 'do not.' If Councilor Parthanus isn't here to teach you how to speak, I suppose I'll have to do it myself. Say 'don't', saying 'do not' makes you sound archaic.” Garam gestured for him to follow.

  “My tongue is archaic. Your councilor says as much.” It took effort not to sound irritated. Redoram told him he'd been fortunate to have months of immersion in the language before their lessons began, but even with total immersion and intense study, complete fluency was still some time off. He understood it better than he spoke it. Translating his own words in his head frustrated him. “I am doing my best.”

  Garam said nothing more. The captain led him out of the barracks and down several streets before they stopped at a small workshop that looked to serve no one but soldiers. Uniforms like the one Rune wore filled shelves along the walls. Racks of swords and spears and other weapons stood between them. The place was tended by an old man who muttered to himself as he folded uniforms and organized blades. In the midst of his work, the man pulled a stool from somewhere and pushed it to the middle of the room.

  “Sit,” Garam ordered, waiting by the door while the old man sharpened shears on a whetstone.

  Rune did as he was told, tucking his chin into his chest and staring at his hands as the old man went to work. The shears clacked beside his ears and his damp, tangled hair fell away in clumps. Then the old man grasped his chin and turned his face this way and that. He mumbled something to himself as he released Rune's face and fetched a razor. There was little to shave, and it wasn't long before the man held out a mirror, inviting him to look. Rune glanced at it and then looked again, startled by the reflection.

  “Look like a different man, don't you?” Garam chuckled.

  Rune nodded and forced himself to look away. A man he didn't recognize, save the unchanging green of his hands and feet.

  “You'll get used to it,” the captain said.

  The old man put the mirror aside and took up a measuring tape. He pulled Rune to his feet and made him stand with his feet apart and his arms up. Again, the man mumbled something Rune couldn't understand as he took measurements and wrote down the numbers.

  Then Garam straightened and waved the old man away. “Any time you need a haircut or new equipment, this is where you'll come. He'll have your armor ready in a few days. Pick a weapon you're proficient with off the racks, then follow me. We'll get you shown to your quarters. Training begins in the morning.”

  “I need to speak to someone of a small matter before morning.” Rune took a sword from the nearest rack without a second glance. “The energy flows here, they are strange. They move when I reach for them. Redoram said magic was held outside my reach in prison, but why can I not grasp it now?”

  Garam stopped mid-stride. “You're a mage?”

  Rune hesitated. “You did not know?”

  “The only mage we knew of in the prison was Redoram.” The captain muttered a curse, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he shook his head and resumed his path toward the barracks. “They should have known, why didn't they sense it in you? Ah, no matter. I can speak to them about it later. I'll bring someone to you after you're settled, have your abilities assessed and see what can be done.”

  Rune frowned as he fell in step behind the captain and turned the thought over in his head. They hadn't known of his power? Then what kept him from touching it now? And if not to keep the flows from his grasp, why had there been a mage present to escort him to and from the arena? He recalled the man's behavior, the guarded way he'd looked around while they walked. Always looking at something else. Looking for something else, he realized. The man had never been there to keep him from using magic; he'd been there to keep someone from using magic against him.

  But what need was there to protect a mere prisoner? He considered it from every angle he could think of, turning up nothing but the idea that a noble could be offended if something happened to an opponent before their prized arena match. That had to be it, considering the odd games the nobles played. Redoram had spent a considerable amount of time trying to teach him what to expect. A number of the nobles' prac
tices here were questionable, but sending mages to assassinate prisoners in chains still seemed rather extreme.

  “Here we are.” Garam's voice jarred him from his thoughts and Rune cast a disinterested glance around the barracks as they stepped down into one of many near-identical rooms with a long row of beds inside it. “A bed to sleep in and a chest for your things. Not that I expect you own much.”

  Rune opened the wooden chest and laid the sword he'd chosen inside. “That would be it, yes.” He caught a glimpse of Garam eyeing the sword and he closed the chest, struggling to keep his expression from darkening. All he had in hand, at least, but he was in no position to demand his father's sword. Not yet.

  He wasn't thrilled about being without the blade and he wasn't pleased with being reduced to the status of a nameless guard, but it served a purpose for now. Food in his stomach and a safe place to sleep was hard to argue with. Assuming the captain kept his word and was able to pull Redoram from the prison, he'd have a chance to learn enough about the region to survive on his own.

  “Good. Take a few minutes to rest and get your bearings, then head down the hall to the training arena. Watch some sparring matches to get a feel for what you'll be up against tomorrow. I'll fetch someone to address magic with you.” The captain's face shifted almost imperceptibly at mention of magecraft, but it was enough to speak volumes.

  “Thank you.” Rune seated himself on the side of his bed and pulled up his feet. It was a stiff straw mattress with rough-spun blankets over the top, but it felt more like silk cushions after that plank in his cell.

  The captain started back the way he'd come, but paused after a step or two. “I'll find something for your feet, too. Can't have you walking around the way you are.”

  Rune arched a brow at the choice of words, but he let it pass.

  He rested only a few minutes before he got back to his feet and retrieved the sword he'd only just put away. Any longer in bed, and he'd fall asleep. He paused in the hallway and counted the doors to remember which room was his.

  Despite the rooms looking alike, the rest of the barracks proved easy to navigate. The building was split by a long hallway, one end leading out into the city, the other open to what had to be the training grounds. The room with the bathtub was at that end of the hall, opposed by a staircase to the second floor, in which he had little interest. Rune slipped into a small armory beside the training arena and spared a glance for the shelves full of battered armor and damaged weaponry. A wrought iron fence was all that separated the armory from the arena. A pair of benches sat next to the dusty ring.

  Several pairs of men sparred in the squared training grounds, but Rune was less interested in them than the tall buildings that surrounded the arena on all sides. Windows facing the arena might have allowed someone to watch, but all of them were shuttered to keep the noise and rising dust at bay. Looking around at the buildings above them, Rune almost missed the way one of the men elbowed his sparring partner and gestured toward him. The man's partner laughed, and another pair paused to look at him. Rune lifted a brow.

  “So the captain was serious!” one of them said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Think you can fight real soldiers, instead of the gussied-up knights they had you pitted against?”

  “A real soldier is made on the battlefield.” Rune's brows lowered as he spoke, though his snake-slitted eyes drifted up to the shuttered windows again. “Not in a sheltered training ground.”

  Teasing mirth drained from the faces of the soldiers before him. The man who'd spoken first scowled and spat at the ground. “All right,” he said, hefting his sword in hand and settling into a battle stance. “Let's see it.”

  Rune twirled his sword and stepped around the iron fencing. He glanced down as he tested his footing on the hard-packed dirt. The sparring ceased and the remaining pairs of men turned to watch the fight. He considered stopping to retrieve armor from the shelves behind him, but dismissed the thought as soon as it came. He'd been without armor in the arena and lived to tell the tale. And that was against men who wanted him dead. He turned his thoughts to his opponent instead as he strode across the dirt. His blade darted with the first move.

  The soldier parried and countered with grace and speed, catching him off guard. Rune gritted his teeth. He barely caught his opponent's sword and chided himself for getting cocky. He moved back, readjusted his stance and shifted his hands on the hilt of his unfamiliar weapon.

  The other man floated just beyond the reach of his blade, darting in at every opening. Steel rang with musical notes over the jeers and laughter of the men watching them fight. Rune tried not to look at them, ignored their applause and chatter, and focused on his opponent instead. Like a viper, he thought. The only difference was the bite would be from steel instead of fangs. He pulled back, defending, observing.

  Much like a snake, the soldier struck for the head, leaving his lower half open whenever he lunged high. Rune feinted one direction and ducked the other when the man fell for it. His sword snapped forward and its edge rasped against the soldier's cuisse.

  The spectators howled, half of them with laughter, the rest in anger. Rune straightened with a smirk.

  The soldier's eyes flashed with fury and the man lunged forward to grab Rune by the shirt, brandishing his sword.

  “That's enough.” The captain's bark startled everyone to silence. The men bowed their heads and turned away, most returning to their sparring matches. Rune's opponent scowled, but said nothing as he released him and strode back to his partner.

  Garam raised a brow and folded his arms over his chest. “Making friends already, are we?”

  Rune brushed at his shirt with his free hand. “I seem to be good at it.” His smirk faded under the captain's stare, and a frown grew in its place. “Did you bring a mage?”

  The captain nodded and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. Rune half expected the mage-guard that had walked with him from prison to arena and back again, or maybe a scholar from the king's circle. Who he saw instead wasn't what he'd expected at all.

  The woman all but shoved Garam out of the way as she stepped out from behind him and planted her hands on her hips. Her skin was the same earth-brown as the captain's, but her ears bore a distinct point, exposed by the way her hair was drawn into a multitude of tiny braids and tied at the back of her head. Hair the unmistakable stark white of an experienced mage, he noted, her eyes clear blue to match. Rune glanced between the captain and the woman, but she spoke before he could make a sound.

  “This? You brought me to see this?” Her brows knit and she slid forward, circling Rune with an appraising look. “Where are you finding these things, Garam? Did you scrape him off the underside of a rock?”

  Garam sighed. “Just do what I brought you to do.”

  “Pah! I feel nothing in him at all.” She fluttered a hand and turned as if to leave. Garam caught her by the shoulders and turned her around again.

  “You haven't even tried yet, have you?” Garam pushed her forward. “Sera, this is Rune.”

  “Rune,” she repeated flatly. She studied him a moment, then gave Garam a skeptical look. “That's his name?”

  “The one he gave me.” The captain stepped back and gestured for her to proceed.

  Sera sighed, holding out her hands. “Fine. Come on, then, Rune, let me gauge your Gift.”

  Rune glanced between her and the captain and drew back. He'd linked energies with someone only once before. He tried not to think of her now. “I do n—ah—don't... think this is a good idea.” He faltered over the word he'd been given earlier. Correct or not, it felt foreign on his tongue.

  “Nobody asked what you thought.” She grabbed hold of his scaled hands and seized his energies before he knew what she was doing.

  He shuddered as the electric tingle of their merging energies ran through his body and gasped as magic surged into him, suddenly no longer out of reach. Sera shrieked. Power rolled through him, white-hot and intoxicating, growing until it roared within his ears.
Gritting his teeth, he thrust her away and withdrew his power so fast it snapped back at him like a whip. He almost lost his balance.

  Sera staggered backwards and fell into Garam's arms. “Lifetree's mercy!”

  “What happened?” Garam demanded, his face twisting with confusion when she shoved him back.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” Her voice cracked as she spun to glare at him and leveled an accusatory finger with his nose. “You didn't tell me he was a free mage!”

  Garam's eyes widened. “I didn't know!”

  “You didn't know what?” Sera snorted. “You ought to! Do his eyes glow in the dark, Garam? Did you even look?”

  The captain fumbled for words.

  “Of course you didn't.” She sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. “Ay, my head is killing me now.”

  “I am sorry,” Rune started, glancing between the two of them uncertainly. “I would have said something, but—”

  “No, no.” Sera waved a hand and sighed before motioning for him to move out of the way. He did as directed. She dropped to sit on one of the benches and cradled her head in her hands. “I should have given you a chance to speak. You were right, it wasn't a good idea.” She paused and gave him a wry smile. “But you could have just told your captain you were a free mage.”

  He didn't reply. How she knew the nature of his power, he couldn't fathom.

  “So you can't train him?” Garam asked.

  She scrubbed her face with both hands and straightened. “I can teach him some. Enough to serve your purposes.”

  Feeling steadier on his feet, Rune reached for the flows and made an exasperated sound in his throat when they skirted his grasp. “I still cannot touch them! How did you seize them through me?”

  Sera glared at him. “Patience, snake, I'll speak to you when I'm ready. Garam, what do you wish me to teach him? I'm hardly capable enough to deal with a free mage on my own, but—”