by Mark August
“So much magic poured through me when my life was threatened. I didn’t know how to use it, but my mind made it happen. I thought I just needed to imagine a way to use the power.”
“Yes and no, Kincaid.”
“That’s how it works for me.”
Cormac shook his head and drew in a deep breath. “There’s more. You must have a willingness to channel the forces of energy.”
“That makes sense, but—”
“Remember how you couldn’t find magic the first few times the Duke and his sorceratti questioned you. How do you feel after you use magic?”
“As the rush of power leaves me, I’m exhausted.”
“Like after a day of training with a sword or a full day in the shop?”
Kincaid hunted for the words to describe the feeling after the power faded. He struggled to find the right ones as he considered how his body felt in prison. “No. It feels more like deep exhaustion that you never quite get over. More like working a full week with no rest.”
“Exactly, Kincaid. This is the most important thing I can teach you. You will never recover from the use of magic.” Cormac looked away and stared at the flickering oil lamp in the corner of the cell block. His voice was distant. “All wizards learn this rule. Only a few heed this warning.”
“You can recover.”
Cormac turned back with a set jaw and tight fists. “Kincaid, listen to me carefully. Only the most powerful mages comprehend this secret. The noble houses of Caesea don’t understand the nature of arcane power even after decades of training their youngest children. Even their sorceratti come to realize the cost until much too late.”
“Why trust me?” All this power and he couldn’t use any of it? Cormac served the families for decades and hadn’t aged. Secret indeed.
“Because you have nothing left to lose. You are the only way we are getting out of this prison. I must understand the powers you command.” Verbal energy crackled in the air. Cormac sat on the stone floor, but his vision focused beyond this world. He was teaching his darkest secret, and his soul opened up to scrutiny. Kincaid felt the darkness within this mentor.
Kincaid swallowed hard and waited for his fellow prisoner to continue.
“A wizard must channel arcane power through their soul.”
“That’s pretty religious. I feel the magic inside as I touch it, and the power feels amazing—”
“No, Kincaid. Your soul. Your life force. Your very existence.” Magi Cormac paused to let the words sink in.
“You mean…” Comprehension crashed down on Kincaid. He understood, and it scared him worse than the threat of execution.
“Magic consumes your soul, Kincaid. When you pull in power from the arcane plane, you must control the flow. To do so, you must give it part of your life. The more power you use, the more of your life force is burned to use it. You sacrifice your future for the power of the moment.”
Those words hung in the cold prison air between them. Magic’s secret made the gloom deeper. The single oil lamp flickered as it consumed its fuel. When the oil was gone, the light would extinguish. Kincaid nodded as his mind accepted the truth.
“That’s why the houses train only the youngest of their families.”
“Excellent, Kincaid. I gave them this rule as they negotiated the language of their agreement with the houses. They added the law to execute everyone else who used magic. Fortunately, I was exempt. With children responsible for the control of magic, the houses would be reluctant to use it. And I knew as I trained each child, they would surrender part of their life.”
“They’re killing themselves.”
“Only when they channel magic. Kincaid, the decision to summon magic is a life-changing moment. Not all the sorceratti understand the cost.”
“And that’s the only way out of here?”
“I don’t envy your choice, Kincaid. If you stay, they will ask you to use magic to do dark things. It will kill you. Or they will execute you.”
“The moment I entered this prison, my life was no longer my own. I understand my soul is the price to escape.”
“Then learn. I will show you and teach you the depth and breadth of its power.”
“In exchange for?”
“I would like to be free of this prison. I would like to learn about your experience using magic. I think you are unique.”
“Deal. We seem to be short on a barrister to review our contract. But I’m ready to honor my side. When do we start?”
Cormac responded to Kincaid’s wry smile with a broad grin of his own.
“I just checked my schedule, and it appears I’m free for the day. How about now?”
Forty-Four
Vedette - Rumors
The Lord of House Atros paced his Great Hall. His footsteps were slower than the cadence of a military march, and his back stooped, no longer the iron bar of rigid posture. When he halted to face his daughter, she saw the bags under his eyes. He carried his fatigue like a heavy cloak. Plans must not be going well.
“Is the intelligence report true, Vedette?”
She glanced at the piles of paperwork on the table and wondered which sheet burdened her father’s mind. One had to suggest magic if he summoned his daughter in the middle of the day. Otherwise, he’d wait for dinner.
“I don’t see the intelligence reports. Magic?”
Her father ground his teeth. He wasn’t in the mood for answering questions with questions. She couldn’t push him today. Lord Atros sighed with displeasure.
“I expected you to know more.”
Vedette let the accusation hang in the air. He didn’t mean it, but he would take out his frustration on her regardless of her answer.
She waited.
Attius continued, “One of the guards overheard Cormac and Kincaid. They’re practicing magic. Cormac is teaching the young man magic.”
“Isn’t that why you wanted Cormac to stay with him? He could watch and learn more. We’re on the edge of learning what we need to know once Kincaid trusts the magi as a teacher.”
“You are far more optimistic than I am.”
“Then you don’t trust Magic Cormac and the loyalty to this family? I thought that was the key to your plan.”
Attius stopped at one of the tapestries and kept his back to the room. The tapestry depicted the settling of the seven major isles and the settlers' rise into noble families.
Vedette wondered why that tapestry. This moment also hung in the balance, and the development of the collection of isles into a world trading power required leadership and vision. The city was on the threshold of change, and her father knew it.
“Teaching him to use magic wasn’t part of my plan.”
“We can end the instruction, Father. Magi Cormac will listen to us, and the prisoner will learn nothing.”
“For decades, the sorceratti kept the peace between the houses. We could use the normal rules and procedures to guarantee our control. And then Cormac sensed a new power within the city.”
He began pacing again. With each click of his boots on the marble floor, Vedette was certain he pondered an additional aspect of his plan. The ruler of the house didn’t stop walking around the hall.
“I think he may be very useful to our cause, Father. Remember, someone with magic tried to kill me. The young man might even help us find the mastermind behind the assassination.”
“But the politics are different. If we were just working on an attempted assassination of a family member, then the Council has the authority to begin preparations for war. We have a history with that response. But we have a threat with no source or intention.”
“Then lead from the front, Father. Take up a public investigation and bring the prisoner out for execution.”
“Do you believe that?”
Vedette was caught. She sounded like her brothers and sisters when advising their father on plans and levels of intrigue. She wouldn’t do it again.
“No. I think the prisoner should help our c
ause. House Atros should wield this new power. But I’m concerned about the politics of the Council.”
“The Council is my domain, Vedette. As the Duke, I have an advantage, and I plan to use it. But we need to figure out our new weapon and where we must point him. I need to figure out an alternative plan that can turn this all into our favor.”
“Where would an immigrant learn magic? Somewhere on the mainland?”
“I don’t think so, Vedette. When I look at the recent trade agreements and listen to the trading captains at our piers, I’m confident we would know of a rising threat. Ambassadors and envoys haven’t mentioned the rise of wizardry in their lands. And everyone knows magic is punishable by death here.”
Vedette nodded as her father stopped his motion near the head of the table. The scrape of the chair on the stone floor brought servants to the edge of their vision to await their command. Vedette gestured for them to leave as her father sat.
“What I don’t understand, Father, is why now? What makes this man unique?”
“That’s the part I still need to find out. I know you’re the only one who can do that.”
“Unfortunately for me, I think so. There’s more going on in the city, and I would like to work with the other families to determine their views. The plan would be better if you would just use Magi Cormac.”
“He is instrumental to our plans, and he has always been part of the game. I wonder if he is playing with new rules.”
Forty-Five
Kincaid - A lesson in chains
“Just a trickle of power. The smallest that you can control and keep within your soul.”
Kincaid sat cross-legged on the floor and faced his instructor. His mind filtered the icy stones under his legs and ignored his stiff back. The pangs of his healing shoulder faded into his subconsciousness. His awareness was linked to each breath. In and out. His mind was a tool, his heart was a vessel, and his soul was the focus. Arcane power leaped across the chasm of worlds and flooded his being.
The power in his soul fought with his mind and pushed for release. He wanted to surrender. Kincaid needed to be one with this raging river of energy.
A simple block of wood. Pine. The corners of his lips turned upwards with the memories of the thick scent of fresh-cut pine.
Focus.
His thoughts became his finest chisel and manipulating the surging power matched a master carpenter's deliberate strokes. A master performed tasks with minimal waste and effort. Creating art was life, and every artist presented himself for the world to see.
Magic was the same.
“Perfect, Kincaid. Now use your control to do something small. Just enough to keep control of the flow within your soul.”
Kincaid allowed his hands to glow with red light, pulsating with the beat of his heart. Ten glorious beats of his heart, and then Kincaid closed the flow of magic. His soul ached with emptiness as the power dissipated.
Magi Cormac’s laughter was genuine and deep. “Excellent work, carpenter.”
Kincaid opened his eyes and stretched the kink in his back. Aches in his body became harder to release. The pair practiced magic as often as they were alone, and they discussed fundamental theories over their meager meals. Kincaid sensed his time was limited, and Cormac was teaching as fast as he could absorb.
Kincaid imagined he was an adept student.
He settled back into place and relaxed his body. The trickle of magic returned with a thought, and he controlled the drumbeat of power in his soul. He massaged it with his heart and limited it with his mind. Kincaid focused his eyes on the chains binding Cormac to the floor.
With arcane-infused vision, Kincaid peered through the darkness. Even in the murky expanse of the flickering oil lamp, Kincaid saw the room as if lit by the noon sun. Except for the chains restraining Cormac. The chains were the darkest black his mind could imagine. They absorbed nearby light and appeared to be a hole light would sink into and never return. But that made no sense.
“If those chains can restrain a wizard, a magi, why aren’t they on me?”
“Because I’m far more dangerous than you are.” Cormac grinned freely at his student. This wasn’t a boast, just a statement of fact.
“I wonder if I will change their mind.”
“You will.” The words were so low, Kincaid would have missed them except for the power that also made his hearing sensitive far beyond normal limits.
Kincaid rereleased the magic. Magi Cormac explained the dangers of holding magic inside of the soul for long periods. When not needed, he should release the power. The cost was high, and Kincaid didn’t want to give more of his soul by carrying the magic within. He pushed himself back to his feet to get the circulation going in his legs. Pacing the length of his confinement, he counted the steps. Each wall was exactly four paces.
Massive slabs of stone fitted by skilled masons confined Kincaid’s prison cell. Iron bars of solid craftsmanship would take years to cut if he had the tools. The bars were close enough that even Kincaid’s small arm could only slide up to his shoulder. He needed to escape and save his sister. Along the way, he needed to save Cormac. He looked around the cell again.
“I still can’t figure out how I’m going to get us out of here. I know I could get through these walls, but for how far before I’m eventually brought down? I don’t even know where my sister is.”
“Use speed and surprise. The house doesn’t know your powers, and we can review the structures of this household. You need to be oriented toward the threat, and you can’t hesitate.”
“I planned to have you close by.”
“The plan must survive a loss.”
“Lose. That’s all I’ve done since the thugs showed up. Magic can change that streak, but I’m worried.”
Cormac nodded and unfolded his legs. He eased his body backward and stretched the chains to their limit. His back touched his straw pallet.
“Kincaid, tell me more about how the magic reaches back to you.” Kincaid knew that wasn’t a simple question to pass the time. He wasn’t sure how to answer.
“My control of magic is improving by the day. When do we craft a plan to escape?”
“The answer to my question may be the key to our escape, Kincaid. We could use an unexpected advantage, especially against a trained sorceratti.”
“There are things I don’t understand.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell me about those chains. If we are to escape, I need to know everything.”
Cormac sat up into a rigid position. He peered through the flickering light at Kincaid’s face. The sigh was loud in the confines of the cell block.
“The chains are of my design. The Duke wanted the ability to restrain a wizard, and I crafted magical chains that tighten when a wizard opens a channel to the arcane plane.”
“That works?”
“Terrifyingly so.”
“How many more does the family have? What about the other families? Do they know?”
“This is the only set of chains in existence. And they must be linked to the floor.”
“How did you make them?”
Magi Cormac looked away. The clink of his chains filled the space between them.
“Then, please tell me why you would make them?”
“I’ve served the city for far too long. I was the one who came to the Duke and explained about a new threat to the city. At that time, in my pride, I thought I understood the threat.”
“Obviously not a family wizard.”
“No. Not a sorceratti.”
“Then, who?”
“An immigrant who had tremendous power with magic.”
Kincaid couldn’t turn away from his piercing blue eyes.
Forty-Six
Attius - Change of Leadership
“Order, please.”
This time, Attius didn’t reach for the gavel. The members of the City Council took their seats and swiveled toward the center of the table. The faces were neutral, revealing nothi
ng. Some might be curious, others would plan, and his influence would falter under the increased strain.
“We will have an execution soon. We must uphold the laws, and I will ensure the city is safe from the arcane threat.” Attius had to address the central issue before one of his opponents brought up another point of order. He offered the best he could to stall for time.
The gathered members remained silent. Even his allies looked away from the Duke. Years of experience at this Council warned they already decided something.
Lady Silvia cleared her throat. She pushed her chair away from the table and awkwardly stood, shifting her weight from side to side. “I asked to be recognized.”
The rest of the Council spoke in unison, “Second.”
Attius had no choice as the city rules were clear. His brows furrowed, and his eyes darted to the left and right.
“My Lady, please address the Council.”
“Very well.” Hardened steel of skilled politics edged her voice. Each family raised their children with the finest education and groomed them to rule. The balance of power was an intricate dance, but each relished the elaborate steps. She wasn’t afraid of the Duke.
“At the founding of our city, the families created a City Council, led by a Duke, to rule the city in matters of law and trade. Each family has considerable latitude in running the affairs of their family and their businesses. But our agreements are also unambiguous. When the threat encompasses all our families, the responsibility of the Council—”
“Which I am doing.” Attius immediately regretted the tone in his voice. The command style wouldn't carry the day in this group.
"Lord Attius." She looked down her nose at him. "I have the floor and will make this address. Will you allow me to continue?"
The trap encircled Attius, and his choices shrank by the moment. He cursed himself for not expecting this outcome earlier. “Of course.”
