“Magister,” ground out Rachaelis. “Magister. Magister!”
Magister Nazim stood frozen in place, his body outlined in fiery light. His hands and shoulders shook with agony, but he made no response to Rachaelis’s plea. Why didn’t he answer?
Something grew hot against Rachaelis’s shoulder. Her mother’s brooch. She realized that the blood spell must have a mental component. The brooch protected her from it.
But Magister Nazim had no such defense.
And the brooch did nothing to shield her from the spell’s physical effects. The agony grew worse, and worse. Rachaelis shuddered, tried to fight, tried to break free, but the spell held her in place. And still the pain grew worse, until hot tears trickled down her face, a steady whimpering coming from her clenched jaws.
A footstep scraped against the stone floor.
Low, mocking laughter.
And Anna Marinius stepped into Rachaelis’s field of vision.
“You know,” she said. “I was going to send the Master a message, tell him that both his greatest enemy and his quarry had come to my home. I thought he would be pleased with this knowledge, that I would gain a small measure of favor. And instead you blunder into my defenses!” She laughed again. “Think of the reward the Master will give me when I deliver you into his hands. I shall be favored above all his other disciples.”
“Your…Master,” hissed Rachaelis. “A…blood…”
Anna stepped back in alarm. “You shouldn’t be able to speak!” She stared at Rachaelis for a moment, then relaxed. “Wait. You must have…something, some enspelled trinket. It’s kept the spell from overwhelming your mind. But…you can’t concentrate enough to cast a spell, can you? Otherwise you would have broken free already.”
“Blood…sorcery,” whispered Rachaelis. “You…won’t get…”
Anna laughed. “I won’t get away with it? Fool girl. I already have. The time of the Conclave is over. The Master will see to that.” She leaned closer, peering at Rachaelis’s face. “Though for the life of me, I cannot comprehend why the Master wants you so badly. Surely you cannot be that powerful, not if my spell trapped you so easily. Perhaps he wants you for his bed. Or to satisfy the requirements of some Jurgur superstition.”
“Why…” grated Rachaelis. “Why…does…”
Anna ignored her. “But I’ll still enjoy handing you over to him. You and that insufferable old fool Magister Nazim. Whatever the Master has in mind for you, it can’t be pleasant.” She walked to the table with the jars of blood. “I’ve always hated you Adepts. Always looking down your noses at us, so proud and arrogant. I hated that I wasn’t born with magical talent.” She opened one of the jars, dipped her fingers into the blood. A strong chemical odor filled Rachaelis’s nose. No doubt the blood had been mixed with some potion to keep it from congealing. “But the Master showed me a better way. Anyone can learn blood sorcery, for the power comes from the blood, not the astral realm. No need for inborn talent. And the way of blood sorcery is the stronger way. Already my blood spells have reversed my aging and restored my beauty. I shall live forever, ruling over the earth with the Master, centuries after your bones have turned to dust.”
“The…Conclave,” said Rachaelis. “The Conclave…will stop you.”
“No,” said Anna, turning back to Rachaelis. “They won’t.” She lifted her bloody fingers. “I’m going to handing you over to the Master, you and that self-righteous abolitionist Nazim. I’d enjoy killing him, but the Master might have some use for him. But first I’ll need to make you a bit more…tractable. I know just the spell.”
A shadow moved behind her.
Anna smiled and pointed a blood-wet finger at Rachaelis. “This is really going to hurt.”
Crimson flames crackled around her fingers as she began to trace a symbol in the air.
And then Corthain loomed up behind her and hammered the pommel of his sword against her temple. Anna collapsed to the floor, the fire around her hand winking out.
Rachaelis could have sobbed with relief.
“Luthair,” said Corthain. “Watch her. Don’t kill her, but if she tries to cast a spell, stop her.”
“Aye, my lord,” said Luthair, stepping into Rachaelis’s field of vision. He knelt besides Anna and placed the tip of a knife against her windpipe.
“This spell,” said Corthain. “Can you release them?”
“I…don’t know,” said Thalia’s voice. “Corthain, I’ve never seen anything like this before. I didn’t know blood sorcery could even do this. Maybe enough silver astralfire could neutralize…”
“Do it,” said Corthain. “Do it now. It’s killing them.”
Rachaelis felt the surge of power, and then a cone of silver astralfire lashed over the burning sigil. A hideous snarling noise filled her ears, the sigil flickering. Then the symbol filled with silver fire, and winked out, leaving charred stripes across the floor. The pain vanished from Rachaelis, and she collapsed to the floor.
Magister Nazim crumpled like a puppet with cut strings.
Corthain was at her side, helping her to her knees. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” said Rachaelis, her head spinning. “Yes…I…don’t think the spell did anything permanent. My mother’s brooch kept it from touching my mind. Magister Nazim. How is Magister Nazim?”
“Not well.” Thalia knelt besides him, face grim. “His pulse is erratic. I have to get him to the College Medicia, now.”
“Go,” said Corthain. “I’ll deal with things here. Meet us back at the Red Water Inn.”
Thalia nodded and astraljumped away, taking Nazim with her.
“Can you stand?” said Corthain.
“I think so.” He helped her to her feet, arm around her waist, and she sagged against him. Her legs felt like limp cords, and her head spun, but with Corthain’s help she kept her balance.
“She’s coming around,” said Luthair.
“Good,” said Corthain. “I have some questions for her.”
He walked to stand over the prone noblewoman, Rachaelis leaning against him.
Anna’s eyes fluttered open. She gasped and started to raise one hand.
“Ah, ah, ah,” said Luthair. “I wouldn’t try it, if I were you. I know you need blood to cast your spells.” He tapped the point of the knife against her throat. “And if you try a spell, you’ll have more blood than you’ll need. Of course, you’ll be choking on it. Which would make it rather less than useful for spell casting, I imagine.”
“Take your hands off me, churl,” said Anna.
“We have some questions for you,” said Corthain.
Anna sneered. “Don’t threaten me, fool. I know who you are. Magister Arthain’s little embarrassment. You have no authority to threaten me.”
“No, I don’t,” said Corthain. “Luthair.”
Luthair nodded and pulled back the first finger on Anna’s right hand until it broke. Anna shrieked in startled agony.
“I strongly suggest that you answer my questions,” said Corthain. “I may not have authority in Araspan…but I do have a knife to your throat, don’t I? And my father hates me, but he hates blood sorcery even more. If I told him that you were a blood sorcerer, how do you think he would react? My father is many things. Merciful is not one of them.”
Anna said nothing, sweat trickling down her face.
“And I am an Adept,” said Rachaelis. Her voice sounded flat and cold. “You will answer his questions. Or I swear I will reach into your mind and dig out the answers myself.”
“Fine,” hissed Anna. “Ask what you will. Not that it matters. The Conclave is doomed. You cannot stop what is coming.”
“Blood sorcery,” said Corthain. “Where did you learn it?”
“I learned it because I wanted to,” said Anna. “You understand, don’t you? What it is like to grow up a noble in this city without magical talent? How the Adepts sneer at you, treat you like cattle. Anyone can learn blood sorcery. And it is the stronger path, too. Even Adepts die. But bloo
d sorcery can give eternal youth. Already I look fifteen years younger than I did before the Master taught me. I will live forever, young and beautiful.”
“I know what it is like to grow up in this city without magical talent,” said Corthain. He gestured at the dead Jurgurs upon the tables. “However, you’ll note that I did not turn to ritual murder to soothe my wounded feelings. I don’t care why you learned blood sorcery. I want to know who you learned it from.”
Anna gave him a sullen look. “From the Master.”
“And who is the Master?” said Corthain.
Anna said nothing.
Luthair yanked on her broken finger, and Anna yelped. “Answer, my pretty.”
“A Jurgur blood shaman?” said Corthain. “A full one?”
“Yes,” said Anna. She smirked. “You know nothing. He is power made flesh. His mastery of blood sorcery makes even the strongest Magister look like a stumbling child. He could rip the heart from your chest with nothing more than a glance.”
Rachaelis felt Corthain tense. “What…does he look like?”
“Like the lord of the earth,” said Anna. “His head is shaved. Scars ring his eyes and mark his jaw.” Her voice grew almost dreamy. “Tattoos cover his arms and chest, the markings of his power. Demons obey his commands, and all the Jurgurs hold him in awe and reverence.”
“What,” said Corthain, voice quiet, “is his name?”
“Maerwulf,” said Anna.
Corthain said nothing, but Rachaelis felt the twitch that went through his arm.
“Shit,” said Luthair.
“You know him?” said Rachaelis.
“Yes,” said Corthain. “He was at Dark River. He got away. I thought he would have fled back into the East…I never thought he would come to Araspan, of all places.”
“He came a year ago,” said Anna. “Ever since then he has been building his power, gathering the Jurgurs, and teaching his disciples.”
“Why does Maerwulf want to capture Rachaelis?” said Corthain.
Anna shrugged. “He never said. The high demon he serves commanded it of him, I suppose. But the Master is not required to disclose his will to his servants.”
“Does the high demon desire Rachaelis as a host?” said Corthain.
“You mean what the Jurgurs call an Urmaaghsk?” said Anna. “Probably. I don’t know. As I said, the Master didn’t say. Though he has mentioned bits and pieces. The high demon communicates with him through dreams. One night it bade him come to Araspan. Once he came, it asked for Rachaelis Morulan.”
“His motivations don’t matter,” said Rachaelis. “Not if we find him and kill him.”
Anna laughed. “You think you can kill the Master? I trapped you with my sigil, and I have but the tenth part of the Master’s power. Try to challenge him and he will crush you like an insect.”
“Your precious Master wants me alive, remember?” said Rachaelis.
Anna smirked. “More the pity for you. The Master is not…kind to his prisoners. Especially the women.”
“Enough,” said Corthain. “Where is Maerwulf hiding?”
Anna fell silent.
“You may as well tell us,” said Corthain. “After all, if Maerwulf is so powerful as you claim, then telling us his hiding place will only lead to our deaths.”
“As harsh as the Master is to his enemies,” said Anna, "he is even harsher to those who betray him.”
“I suggest you tell me,” said Corthain. “You still have nine unbroken fingers left, after all.”
Anna laughed. “Nine is more than enough.”
She seized Luthair’s knife by the blade. Startled, Luthair stabbed, and the weapon sank into Anna’s hand.
Blood welled over her palm. With a triumphant shout, she thrust out her hand, the blood crackling into vicious scarlet flames.
Rachaelis react on pure instinct, throwing out her hand and unleashing the power. Azure astralfire burst from her fingers, drilled through Anna’s chest, and into the stone floor. Anna rocked back, eyes wide in death, and the fiery light around her fingers vanished.
Rachaelis let out a breath. She hadn’t intended to kill Anna, but the thought of enduring that spell again…
“We just killed a noblewoman in her cellar,” said Luthair. “We should probably go. Now.”
“We can’t just…leave all this here,” said Rachaelis. “Some of it might be dangerous.”
“We’ll send a message to someone in the Conclave,” said Corthain. “Magister Jonas, I think. It will be obvious that Lady Anna dabbled in blood sorcery, and wound up destroying herself. An Araspani noblewoman practicing blood sorcery.” He shook his head. “My father will be furious. In the meantime, we should go. Do you feel well enough to astraljump the three of us back to the Red Water Inn?”
Rachaelis took a deep breath. “I…think so. I’ll have to rest afterwards, though.”
Corthain nodded. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” said Luthair, plucking at the ruined front of Lady Anna’s gown. “What’s this?”
An amulet of strange design rested against Lady Anna’s chest, just below the massive hole Rachaelis had burned through her heart. It looked like a thumb-sized black stone held in a gleaming silver claw. Luthair smiled, and reached for it.
“Wait!” said Rachaelis. “Don’t touch it.” She cast the spell to sense magic and focused upon the amulet. For a moment she felt nothing from the amulet, but she focused harder. Then she felt the power deep within the black stone, strong and bloody.
“What is it?” said Corthain.
“It’s enchanted, somehow,” said Rachaelis. “Strong blood sorcery. I…can’t quite make out the aura. It’s like the thing exists simultaneously in this world and in the astral realm.”
Luthair pulled his hand away.
Rachaelis ripped a strip from the hem of Anna’s skirt and wrapped the amulet up.
“You want to take it with us?” said Corthain.
“It’s powerful,” said Rachaelis. “I think that this Maerwulf might have made it with his own hands. And if he did…Thalia and I might be able to find him. Sometimes you can use an enchanted object to find the spell caster who enchanted it.”
Luthair grunted. “Handy. But perhaps we should save the theoretical discussion until after we have fled the premises?”
“You’re right,” said Corthain. “Are you ready?”
Rachaelis nodded. Corthain and Luthair put their hands on her shoulders, and she cast the astraljump spell.
Chapter 8 - A Gift
Rachaelis blinked awake. For a moment she could not remember where she was, or what she had been doing.
Wait. Lady Anna. The trap.
Rachaelis had collapsed after astraljumping back to the Red Water Inn. The effort of moving that much mass over that much distance, coupled with the exhaustion from Anna’s trap, had simply proven too much. Corthain had carried her to bed, much to her embarrassment.
After that she had passed out, and sunk into a dreamless sleep.
Now morning sunlight peeked through the shutters. Rachaelis sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. Her head ached, and she felt stiff and sore, but otherwise fine.
Corthain sat by the door, sword across his knees. In one hand he held a dagger, and rubbed a fresh coat of oil over the blade. He looked up, and smiled.
“You’re awake,” he said, returning the dagger to its sheath. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” said Rachaelis. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”
“Thalia went to see First Magister Talvin about what happened last night,” said Corthain. “I sent Luthair to keep an eye outside, keep watch for any Jurgurs. And since we didn’t want the Jurgurs simply to walk in and carry you off while you slept, I stayed to keep an eye on you. You’re hungry, I suppose.”
“I don’t…” Rachaelis realized that she was ravenous. “Actually, I am.”
“I thought you might be,” said Corthain, walking to the table and picking up a plate. It held bread and
bacon, along with a cup of wine.
“You found wine here?” said Rachaelis.
“No,” said Corthain. “I kept some from the samples I sent back to Moiria. I figured you could have it, instead of inflicting Bolton’s beer on you.”
“I appreciate that,” said Rachaelis around a mouthful of bread. “I never liked beer with breakfast anyway.”
“It’s past noon,” said Corthain. Rachaelis frowned. “You were tired.”
“I must have needed the rest,” said Rachaelis. She hesitated. “Magister Nazim…is he…”
“I don’t know,” said Corthain. “He’s not well. I talked to Thalia, and she said that he hadn’t woken up when she left him.”
Rachaelis stared at her plate, her appetite curdling. “This was my fault. I should have been more careful.”
“Maybe,” said Corthain. “But Nazim is a Magister of the Conclave. And he still failed to see the trap.”
“I saw it,” said Rachaelis, voice quiet. “I tried to warn him, but it was too late.” She looked at Corthain. “If you hadn’t been there, if you hadn’t gotten there in time…Anna would have taken us both to Maerwulf. And I couldn’t have done anything to stop her.”
She shivered. Considering what Maerwulf planned for her, it was hard not to.
“Enough,” said Corthain. “What’s done is done. You can think about what you could have done, or you can accept it and decide what to do next. Regret will devour you, if you let it.”
“You speak as if you know it firsthand,” said Rachaelis.
“I do,” said Corthain. He sighed. “Hundreds of men died under my command when I was a mercenary captain, and thousands of my enemies. And more men than anyone can count, friend and foe alike, died at Dark River. Could I have done things differently, I wonder? Could I have found a way to save more of my men? Or could I have found a way to stop the Jurgurs without so much bloodshed? Solthain, even. If I had found a way to change his mind, if I had only been more persuasive…might he still be alive? And if I had, maybe your father wouldn’t have suffered his condition.”
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