by Jack
She frowned. ‘But I’m not a magician.’
He smiled. ‘No, but you have the potential. You can’t use any of your magic, but I can.’ He beckoned. ‘Get down.’
Reluctantly, she dismounted. He took her hands and looked into her eyes earnestly. ‘I know I said that having power taken from you is awful, but it isn’t if it’s done gently. If you aren’t drained dry you hardly know the difference. Will you let me take your strength?’
She stared back at him. He wanted her to endure the same thing that he’d killed Lord Herrol for.
‘We need to do this,’ he told her. ‘Or the next time we meet any magicians they’ll kill us.’
After what he’s done, of course they will. But his expression was so direct and anxious. Not a hint of crazed ambition, or deception. He looked far more sane than she’d seen him in weeks.
She nodded. He smiled briefly in thanks, then became serious again. From somewhere in his clothing he produced a knife. The blade touched each of her palms. She felt a pressure, then a slowly growing sting. Covering her hands with his, he closed his eyes.
First she went a bit wobbly as a feeling of weakness spread through her, but somehow she stayed on her feet. Then she felt languid and passive. After a time the feeling eased, and she felt normal but for a tingle in her palms. Tagin grinned and let her hands go. The cuts he’d made were gone, healed away with magic. He reached out to touch her cheek, his eyes warm with affection.
‘Thank you. How do you feel?’ he asked.
She considered. ‘Fine. It was a bit draining, at first.’
He nodded. ‘Took me a while to judge the speed of it. I’m not used to having to do it slowly.’
‘How do you feel?’ she asked.
He frowned and looked at the ground, then he shook his head. ‘You’re strong, but you’re only one person. I need more magic.’ He turned around, stopping as he faced the road to the village they’d just left. Tiny lights glinted in the distance.
‘Stay here, hidden behind the wall,’ he said, taking the reins of her horse. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so.’
* * * *
Record of the 235th Year.
Our worst fears have come to pass. Apprentice Tagin, now being called ‘The Mad Apprentice’ has turned on the common man and woman in his pursuit of power. Lord Telkan, on his way to the city after a visit to Elyne, found the entire village of Whiteriver dead and left to rot. All victims had been killed with higher magic. Even the locals’ enka, gorin and reber had perished. Only small children were spared.
After informing the Guild of the tragedy, Lord Telkan continued on his way only to encounter signs of a magical battle, and the bodies of Lord Purwe and Lord Horet. The two deceased were not even on Tagin’s trail, instead, misfortune brought them in contact with their killer. Fortunately Lord Telkan was not so unlucky, and has this evening reached the Guild safely.
* * * *
Looking down at his entry, Gilken shook his head in disbelief.
‘Nearly a quarter of Kyralian magicians have died at Tagin’s hands. I’m beginning to find my opinion swaying toward those who believe he should be killed as soon as possible, rather than risk further lives in the attempt to catch him.’
Lord Arfon sighed. ‘You are not the only one, if whispers in the Guildhall corridors are any indication.’
‘But you still feel strongly that we must find out how he came to learn higher magic without assistance?’
‘Yes. And it is less likely Indria will be harmed if we capture him.’
Gilken looked at Arfon closely. The man had spent several nights talking to Indria while she had been held at the Guildhall. Had he grown fond of her? While the general opinion of the magicians was that Tagin’s sister was guilty of helping a murderer, Arfon had pointed out many times that she may not have any choice. But when her husband, who had been found in Lonmar visiting his trading partners, was told of her involvement in her brother’s crimes he had all but disowned her, and many in the Guild had taken that as proof of her bad character.
‘What will you do now?’ Gilken asked.
Arfon frowned as he considered. ‘He’s so unpredictable. First he runs, now he attacks. I’ve instructed the searchers to report his position if they see him, but to avoid approaching or confronting him. Once we know where he is, we can gather together and decide how best to corner him.’
‘You don’t have any idea how strong he is, do you?’
‘No.’ Arfon’s expression was grim. ‘Only that, now he has taken to attacking commoners, he will grow rapidly stronger. The longer it takes for us to find and subdue him, the stronger he will get.’
‘Do you need my help?’
The younger magician looked at Gilken in surprise and gratitude, and shook his head. ‘The Guild needs a record of these events,’ he said. ‘Hopefully only as a warning to those who come after us. But thank you for offering.’
Gilken smiled and shrugged, feeling a mixture of relief and frustration. If only there was something he could do to help. But he was old, and perhaps the best he could do was the task already in his hands.
* * * *
Exhausted, Indria sat down on a low wall and stared at the ground. She did not want to see the bodies of the villagers around her. Despair and guilt would only drain the last of her energy — though deliberately avoiding the sight brought a wave of shame anyway.
Every night Tagin took magical energy from her. He said it not only kept them strong and safe, but it would help her sleep. He was right: she all but fell unconscious and only woke when he shook her the next day. She would have been grateful for the lack of dreams, if her waking hours had not become so nightmarish.
He insisted she come with him each time he attacked a village, afraid that the magicians would find her and use her against him. When she had seen what he did to the people she had protested, too tired to care what he might do to her. But she had been too worn out to argue convincingly, and he had obviously been expecting and preparing for her reaction. He wore her down with his reasoning.
Or maybe it was the sheer madness of his reasoning that left her unable to speak or resist. He has gone so far past the point of ordinary human boundaries, so beyond my reach, that there is no use in me arguing with him.
Still, she clung to hope. Perhaps he would return from his delusion. If he did, she must be there to steer him back to sanity. The right word at the right time, and she might persuade him to flee Kyralia and hide somewhere remote and safe from the Guild.
Either that, or turn him in. But even now, that was unthinkable.
A movement caught her eye and she reluctantly looked up. A figure was approaching her. Tagin.
‘We’ll have magical company soon,’ he told her.
She frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I saw it in the mind of the village leader. The local Lord told him to send a messenger if we turned up. Once he knows we’re here, he’ll call on five other country magicians for help. They’ll come after us.’
‘Oh.’ She stood up with an effort.
‘Rest, sister,’ Tagin said, his voice growing gentle for a moment. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
‘We aren’t running away?’
‘No.’
‘Are we going to poison them?’
‘No. No more poison. No more tricks. It is time for good, honest battle.’
She felt her heart start to beat faster, and suddenly felt a little more awake. It was not a pleasant sensation. ‘How many magicians did the man say there were?’
‘Six.’
‘But... you’re ... one.’
‘Yes, but they are weaker.’
‘How do you know? Don’t they take power from their apprentices?’
‘Yes. One apprentice, once a day. I have taken magic from many hundreds, and you would not believe how many commoners have as much latent power as a trained magician. I can see why the Sachakans have slaves ...’ His voice faded, then he shook his head. ‘Guild magici
ans aren’t allowed to take magic from anyone but their apprentices. Not unless there’s a war.’
‘Do ... do you know anything about fighting?’
He smiled. ‘A lot more than they do. It’s been over two hundred years since the Sachakan War. Kyralian magicians have forgotten how to fight. There’s been no reason to, since the wasteland ruined Sachaka.’ He frowned. ‘Herrol had a big library, most of it inherited, and I don’t think he’d read all of it. I found books on strategy. Books all about fighting and planning battles. I’ve practised as much as I could, trying different kinds of barriers and strikes. It wasn’t as good as real fighting practice, but it was more than what the Guild teaches.’
‘But ... if you attack them ... does that make it war?’
He looked at her and smiled. ‘They’re already in a war, they just don’t know it yet. And by the time they realise it, it will be too late.’
* * * *
Record of the 235th Year.
It is difficult to believe that any man could be capable of such acts of needless violence. Yesterday’s attempt to subdue him appears to have sent him into a passion. The last reports say he has slaughtered all in the villages of Tenker and Forei. He is beyond all controlling and I fear for the future of us all. I am amazed that he has not turned on us yet — but perhaps this is his preparation for that final strike.
Gilken, family Balen, House Sorrel, Record-keeper of the Magicians’ Guild.
* * * *
I definitely should not include my suspicions in my entries, Gilken thought as he finished re-reading his previous entry. Whenever I do, they prove to be correct in the most unpleasant way.
He sighed and dipped his pen into the bottle of ink.
* * * *
It is looking more and more likely that the confrontation between Tagin and the country magicians was a deliberate move. Most here now believe he was ridding himself of the threat of attack from the rear in preparation for his advance toward the city.
Today, reports have been arriving every hour of villages and towns emptied of life, the luckier citizens having fled on Tagin’s arrival, and of country magicians found dead in their homes or searchers perishing on the road.
The only benefit to this is that Tagin is no longer hiding. Today Lord Arfon left with twenty-three magicians with orders to kill, not capture, the Mad Apprentice and his sister, Indria.
* * * *
A sound in the stairwell leading to his room made his heart skip. Had Lord Arfon returned? Had he been successful?
The steps were slow and dragged with weariness. Gilken wiped his pen, set it down, and hurried to the door. As he opened it, the man climbing the stairs looked up. Arfon’s expression was grim, but it softened as he saw Gilken. By the time he had entered the room and collapsed into a chair his face was drawn and strained.
‘It’s not good news, is it?’ Gilken said, taking the other chair.
‘No.’ Arfon covered his face with his hands, drew in a deep breath and shook his head. He looked up at Gilken. ‘He defeated us. I only survived because ... Indria suggested Tagin let me return to the Guild to deliver the news and suggest we surrender.’
Gilken felt his heart sink down low in his chest. ‘How is that possible? How could we have got to this point in a few short months. How can we fall to one crazed apprentice?’
‘Because we have underestimated him,’ Arfon replied. ‘He is no apprentice; he knows higher magic, therefore we should have treated him as a higher magician. And because we are fools, too slow and arrogant to consider we could ever be challenged, too split by politics to cooperate when we were, and too proud to foresee that one of our own might turn on us one day.’
‘You could not have predicted any of this,’ Gilken protested. ‘How could anyone have guessed that Tagin would dare to attack us?’
‘We should have considered it.’ Arfon shook his head. ‘I should have considered it. But there is no point arguing about it now. We can argue all we want, but it won’t undo our mistakes.’
Gilken regarded the young magician with dismay. He’d never seen Arfon so resigned and hopeless.
‘What will your next move be?’
Arfon shook his head. ‘The hunt has been taken out of my hands.’
Gilken’s stared at Arfon in disbelief. There was little wonder Arfon looked so defeated. ‘But surely Tagin has been weakened by the fight. He is just one magician. Another attack will surely —’
‘If anyone wants to gather a force to confront Tagin now it has to be at their own arranging,’ Arfon told him. ‘But the Guild may not approve it. When I left the meeting room talk had turned to bargaining and negotiation.’
‘Do you think Tagin will be willing to negotiate?’ he found himself asking, not quite ready to abandon the future he’d always assumed would come to pass.
Arfon shrugged. ‘I’ve given up guessing what he will do. Maybe there will be no Guild left to negotiate with. I suspect those of a less optimistic outlook will have gathered their most valued possessions and found somewhere else to be by tomorrow morning.’
‘Can’t we ... can’t we call upon the people of Imardin to give us their strength?’
‘That was also discussed, but I have to agree with the prevailing opinion: the people are unlikely to agree to it. This has happened too fast for them to comprehend the danger. There is no army at the gates — no foreign enemy. There is one man. One of our own members, who we are responsible for dealing with. They don’t understand how one apprentice could be such a threat. Even if we tried to explain ... they don’t trust magicians like they used to, and this king is hardly the type to stir love from his people.’
Gilken looked away. So they weren’t even going to try to persuade the people to help? Or confront Tagin one more time, while he was weak? He pushed himself to his feet.
‘I’m going down to this meeting. There are other options they may not have considered.’
Arfon looked up at him in surprise, then nodded.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he said.
Gilken smiled in gratitude, then led the way out of the Record-keeper’s room to talk some sense into what was left of the Guild.
* * * *
Indria had lost all sense of feeling, apart from a numbness that frightened her. It had been hard to justify the deaths of the magicians that had pursued Tagin, but she’d managed it. Watching her brother strip the life from one person after another, sparing only the youngest of the children, she had found she could not reason it away, so she stopped reasoning at all.
He is a monster. My brother. A monster, the shreds of her conscience told her.
But if he is, then the Guild made him so.
They may have used their apprentices badly, but did they deserve this in return?
She ignored the question. Once more she told herself that, once all this was over, the monster in her brother would go and the old Tagin would return. It was madness to hold onto this hope, but she did. Stupidly, stubbornly. There was nothing left but that hope. It was all out of her hands. Never had been in them to start with.
He never listened to me before all this started. Why did I think he would if I came with him?
She had been a fool to think she could keep him out of trouble and stop him from killing more people. Nothing she had said or did had turned him from this path.
But at least she had tried.
Not hard enough. You could have refused to go with him. You could have neglected to slip the poison in the wine that first time. Look at what your cowardice has brought about.
She looked up. The road before her was littered with the bodies of magicians.
As the last of the magicians fell, Tagin turned to grin at her. He beckoned. Obediently she followed him into the city. The people of Imardin shrank back, watching the lone figure and his sister. Indria thought back to the apprentices who had sought her brother out, traitors seeking to join him and thereby save themselves.
‘You would give your lives to my ca
use?’ he’d asked.
‘Yes,’ they’d assured him. So he’d taken what they offered, wiping their blood from his knife onto their robes.
As he turned into King’s Parade a chill of foreboding shivered through her. He was not heading for the Guild, he was heading for the Palace. Somehow that realisation stirred up an emotion deep within the emptiness and she faltered. It briefly pushed away the numbness and after a moment of confusion she realised what she felt was anger.
‘When you and I rule the world ...’ he had said to her, playing their familiar game. This was his plan all along. All the talk of changing the Guild has been a lie.
