“But… why?”
“Because the power of belief can be a tremendous weapon in its own right. Already rumors are creeping across the Lands, whispers that the Apostate has arrived. Soon it won’t matter how often or with how much conviction you deny being the Apostate. Vast numbers are going to believe that you are regardless. Even within the College. A single magician would never be able to engage the College on equal footing. But a legend. Well, that’s another matter entirely.”
Niel swallowed hard. “Don’t expect me to fight the College, Your Luminance. I won’t do it.”
“Once our business here is concluded,” Old Uhniethi replied, “I will relinquish my hold on what remains of the Heart and present it as a gift to my esteemed brethren at the College. I’ve other matters to attend, and will have no more use for it. For the time being.”
“You’re giving them the Heart?”
“When I do,” Young Uhniethi said, “the only piece that will remain beyond the College’s reach will be what I’ve placed inside your bright little head.”
An awful understanding descended upon Niel. “They’ll want it from me. They’ll want to heal the Heart themselves.”
“You see?” Uhniethi said. “I told you that you were clever. And as you said yourself, the Heart must never be healed, else the world suffer the most dire of calamities. Thus you will need to do your utmost to prevent them from obtaining it, for the sake of us all.”
Niel looked away, dumbfounded. Find a means to destroy the College, or else the College would surely do the same to him—in which case they would heal the Heart and possibly fulfill the fabled ancient wish of the Dragon Sisters. Either way, Uhniethi would get what he wanted.
“I can’t bel—”
“But you do believe it,” Young Uhniethi said. “And it doesn’t even matter whether the things I say are true. What matters is deep down, in a place you’re still reluctant to dwell, you believe what I’m telling you. Else you wouldn’t be here.”
The decrepit magician climbed the large stairs to the throne above.
Just as Niel had predicted, yet another curtain had been pulled back to unveil further depths to the deceptions he had once known as truth. Fear and frustration swelled. He clenched his fists and turned his head, and when he did the brilliant shaft of light and the wooden post it surrounded came once more into view. Indignation and anger spilled over the dam of his self-control.
“She was another man’s wife!”
At the next to last step, Uhniethi turned. “In name only.”
“Does that matter?”
The young man shrugged. “Calling something one word or another has little to do with the reality of its nature. Take the Heart, for example.”
Niel paused as a confused relief took hold. “Then… the Heart’s not the actual, mythical Heart after all?”
Uhniethi smiled. “Does that matter?”
With a wave of Uhniethi’s skeletal hand, the dark, massive jewel floating above the throne shimmered and faded from view. Niel hadn’t fully acknowledged it being there until that moment, so thoroughly had its presence saturated the chamber.
A sob tightened Niel’s throat. “No…”
“Yes,” Uhniethi replied. “Now, my boy, the time has come for you to leave this place. You would do well to heed these words: Neither you nor anyone on your behalf is ever to return here. If you do, I will destroy not only you, but everything you have ever held dear. Go, retrieve your friend, and live out your life as best you can.”
Niel gave a derisive scoff. “Destroy me? Am I not so very vital to your plans after all?”
Uhniethi’s arms jutted out to a ghastly length. His elongated fingers clenched around Niel’s torso and yanked him hard from the floor. Niel rushed toward the decomposing figure of Uhniethi with sickening speed, stopping only when his nose mashed against the magician’s moldering face. Where there should have been eyes blazed two orbs of murderous violet-crimson. Black lips curled back into a demonic leer.
“I’ve waited this long, boy. I can wait longer if need be.”
With a flick of Uhniethi’s hand, Niel tumbled down the steep stairway and came to a splayed stop where he had just been standing.
“Now go,” Uhniethi said with a final, foreboding grin, “for you have much to do.”
48
Traversing the enormous length of the chamber, making his way through the tunnels, and arriving at the entrance seemed to take far less time than it had on the way in. But then, even as a boy, going home had always felt like the shortest part of the trip.
The stillness with which Arwin lay, unblinking, would have surely caused him to fear that in his absence his friend had died, but by virtue of the eye that Uhniethi had given him, not only could Niel clearly see that Arwin lived, he could clearly see Arwin being alive.
Nonetheless, he gave thanks when Arwin turned his head at the sound of his approach.
“Hello,” Arwin said in a frail whisper.
Because not enough of it had been used on Arwin’s wound, the potion had not finished its work. Half in fascination, half in despair, Niel watched the magic struggle to complete the task for which it had been created. He also saw the early consequences of the potion’s use. The magic employed borrowed against the recipient’s future healthfulness. The ultimate cost to the one drinking it was premature aging, along with a paring away of a comparable amount of natural life expectancy. As a result, Arwin looked the tiniest bit older, though Niel couldn’t be certain how much of that perception could be attributed to his substitute eye.
Niel crouched. “How are you feeling?”
Shock, horror, and regret creased Arwin’s face. “Sweet gods, Niel. What did that bastard do to you?”
“Plenty. But let’s talk on the ship. We’ve been asked to leave, and I’d like to do just that.”
Arwin grunted as Niel took his outstretched arm and helped him to his feet. “Well, that will be a trick. Our friends still have us boxed in.”
Niel looked at the wall formed by the statues. How did Uhniethi intend for them to leave if they—?
With a gentle rumble and the raspy grate of stone on stone, the blocks unfolded one by one back into shapes with heads, legs and arms. They crawled from their places and shuffled back down the long corridor, and as each found the spot from which it had come, it turned and resumed its stance as though it had ever moved.
Arwin gave Niel an uneasy glance.
Niel shook his head. “That wasn’t me.”
Arwin held out his arm. Niel ducked under it and took his friend’s weight onto his shoulders, then stepped out into the wintry evening air.
Looking from one side of the Wall to the other, searching the rubble, Niel saw no sign of Peck, Cally and Jharal. The winds had died since the two of them had been trapped inside the tunnels; everything lay still and dismal. He tried reaching out with his senses, but his awareness of Uhniethi’s overwhelming shine thwarted the effort.
“I don’t see them.”
Arwin sighed. “I can’t imagine there would be much of them left to see.”
He and Arwin hobbled back down to the crumbling breach where they’d first entered the Wall. Arwin jutted his chin toward a gap high above.
“Go up and take a quick look. Let’s make sure we don’t have any more surprises waiting for us.”
He helped sit Arwin on a nearby block of stone then climbed up the stairs to the top of the Wall. Below in the cold, quiet breezes of the approaching night Potchkin’s ship rocked like a slumbering giantess. He smiled at the sight, but the smile quickly faded.
As when they had left, he saw no sign of anyone aboard.
He trotted back to where Arwin sat. “The ship’s there, but no sign of the Professor.”
Arwin frowned and glanced up at the deepening blues of the sky. “Well, it’s getting cold. Maybe we missed him before he went below.”
Niel took Arwin’s elbow and helped him back to his feet. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
“Careful, friend, or you’ll start sounding like an explorer.”
“Or worse, an adventurer.”
“Another remark like that, and I’ll make you pay me for my dagger.”
Niel knew it had been a jest, so he smiled again and hoped it looked sincere.
***
It took longer than Niel expected for them to negotiate the jagged pile of rocks and debris that spilled from the Wall’s breach; night had fallen by the time the two of them reached the ship. Climbing up the ladder also proved a slow and tedious task. Arwin had to rest every few rungs in order to conserve his strength. Niel had briefly considered trying to levitate him onto the deck by drawing on the stark energy exuding into his body from his new eye, just as both Ennalen and Uhniethi had done to him. But, he saw no point in the risk. Even if he somehow managed to lift them, setting them down again would likely be that much more difficult, and even a short fall might be too much for Arwin.
They stood on the deck in the brittle cold of night, Arwin hunched and panting in long cloudy jets as he caught his breath. Niel again felt the impulse to reach out magically to Arwin and steady him somehow, not unlike what had happened to Niel with the horse outside of Glernny. But again he resisted, in deference to the abundant unknowns involved with making the attempt. Instead, he watched Arwin’s fatigue set ever more deeply and dangerously into his frame, and knew his friend neared collapse.
The vessel had been built with no portholes, no way to determine whether any candles burned within. Although Niel supposed it made sense, seeing as how it would ruin any advantage of stealth to have a swarm of golden lights floating through the sky, it also made sneaking inside a much chancier prospect. He tried sensing whether anyone waited below, but with the blare of Arwin’s agony on top of Uhniethi’s hateful essence, there was no way to tell.
When Arwin got his wind back, he drew his sword and nodded at Niel. Niel crept around to the hinged side of the trap door that led to the ship’s interior, then readied himself to pull it open. As he stretched for the handle, the door flew up, whacking Niel in the chest and sending him rolling backward.
Shaking the daze from his head, Niel watched the door and the shape that emerged… followed by the glow of a single, small lantern that illuminated the round, pleasant face beneath.
Professor Potchkins.
The tahlerig offered a broad, affectionate smile.
“You were right,” he called below. “It is them.” The professor cupped his hand to his mouth and whispered at Niel. “That Peck has good ears. Just cost me ten coppers.”
49
Everyone had made it back—bloodied, battered, but alive. Niel felt such relief at the safe return of his companions that even the dull thunder of Jharal’s snoring from somewhere at the back of the ship comforted him.
After the greetings and the initial, understandable ogling, the group tactfully if not gracefully set aside the topic of Niel’s eye. Niel and Arwin took seats on the floor amongst rows of pillows as the professor bustled in the tiny galley area preparing bowls of a wonderful smelling stew.
“Once we were inside,” Arwin asked, “the other statues just stopped?”
“Right in their tracks,” Peck replied. While he had received the least amount of punishment, his face, neck and shoulder glistened with raw, angry-looking abrasions left unbandaged to dry and scab. “And just in time, too. I was getting pretty tired. As you can see, a couple of the buggers managed to get in some pretty good nicks.”
Niel glanced at Cally, who rested on several stacked pillows against the far wall in obvious discomfort. Along with being equally covered in deep, open scrapes, she had her sword arm bound in a sling, one eye all but swollen shut, and she winced whenever she happened to breathe a little too deeply. Fortunately, as best as Peck could determine torn muscles were the worst of her injuries. Nothing broken, and nothing bleeding inside.
Until that moment, Niel had never considered the benefits of an assassin’s intimate knowledge of anatomy
“We headed back for the ship to check on Professor Slim, here,” Peck continued, “where you’ll never guess what I found.”
Arwin and Niel exchanged curious glances. Peck leaned back and folded his hands behind his head.
“Ennalen had herself a servant,” Cally answered.
Arwin looked confused. “What’s unusual about that?”
Niel crooked his mouth. “Not that kind of servant. What Peck means is someone magically compelled to obey the wishes of the magician.”
Peck nodded. “And this not-that-kind-of-servant is no ordinary not-that-kind-of-servant. Ennalen, like our intrepid leader, was lucky enough to find an assassin of her own.”
Niel’s mouth dropped open.
“Yup,” Peck said. “Haven’t been able to get much out of him yet, but his name is Rass. When we got back, he was waiting, and had our poor Professor tied and gagged. Impressive, actually.”
“How did he get on the ship?” Niel asked. “And why didn’t he kill the professor? Isn’t that what assassins do?”
Peck raised an eyebrow.
“Other assassins, I mean.”
The professor slid into the room with a tray of bowls and a clay pitcher of something cold enough to cause beads of water to trickle down its sides.
“He needed me to pilot the ship after he made sure you three were dead,” Potchkins replied as he set the food on the floor in front of them. Niel’s mouth filled with a soft, sweet fluid in anticipation of the meal.
“Peck,” Arwin asked, “where is this person?”
Peck grinned a sly grin. “In the other room. Jharal’s keeping an eye on him.”
Niel choked on a mouthful potato. “The other room? Then why is Jharal snoring?”
Peck shrugged. “He sleeps with his mouth open, I guess.”
Arwin set his cup down after a long drink of dark, chilled wine. “If Rass was with Ennalen long enough, he might know something about what’s going on inside the College. That could be helpful.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” Peck agreed. He winked at Niel. “Not only am I devilishly handsome, but I’m not too shabby with elixirs and the like. Our guest will be out for a good long while.”
“Great,” Niel said. “And then what?”
“The way I figure it,” Cally replied as she shifted her weight and groaned with discomfort, “the College isn’t going to make things easy on us. They’re going to want Niel pretty badly. I think our best bet is still telling Deralden everything and seeing if he’ll take it to the Assembly of Lords.”
“Not everyone’s going to want to help,” Peck said. “The College has got its claws pretty deep into some of them.”
Arwin nodded. “That I know.”
“Then the Assembly really could split,” Niel said, mostly to himself. “There really could be a war.”
Cally sighed. “Possibly.”
A war unlike any the Lands had known. A conflict to spread throughout the world itself.
Suddenly, Niel wasn’t hungry.
“Excuse me,” he said as he pushed his bowl away. He stood, then headed for the ladder.
50
He hadn’t noticed the professor manning the wheel until the ship lurched upward. How did the tahlerig manage to get up and down that ladder, anyway—and so quietly?
Once Niel knew he was there, he sensed him readily. He glanced at Potchkins, who only offered a small smile and nod from the pilot’s wheel, presumably not wanting to disturb Niel.
Or perhaps not wanting to get too close.
Niel leaned against a high portion rail, chin on his stacked fists, and stared out across the Plains—icy-looking as they reflected back what little pale light escaped the clouds.
More had happened to him in recent days than he would have ever wished to happen over the course of his entire life. What had begun as a simple desire to see a bit of the world before attending the College had ended with him being the fulcrum on which balanced the fate of the Lands.
And Biddleby, poor Biddleby, was gone.
New, warm tears welled, and he pressed his face into his arms to hide his sorrow from the professor, lest he feel compelled to come over and offer comfort to Niel—comfort being the last thing in the world that held any interest.
Nonetheless, when Arwin’s presence touched on his own, he felt better.
Niel wiped his sleeve across his face, but did not turn around. “You shouldn’t be climbing up and down ladders in your condition,” he said.
“Jharal came out to join us,” Arwin replied, “but then collapsed again from that bad Sleep spell of yours. Since he was lying there anyway, I stepped up onto his backside for a boost.”
Niel gave a weak chuckle at the joke.
“Are you going to be all right?” Arwin asked as he rested himself on the railing as well.
Niel nodded. “I need time to think.”
Arwin made a gesture of understanding and made to leave. “I’ll come back.”
“No, stay,” Niel said. He faced Arwin. “There’s something I want to talk with you about.”
Arwin resumed his reclined posture.
“First, and I know this may sound odd, but… I was wondering whether Arwin was your real name.”
Arwin crooked an eyebrow. “Come again?”
Niel licked his lips. “If I were running away from home and knew someone might send an assassin out after me, I’d want to draw as little attention to myself as possible. And I’d start by using a different name.”
Arwin smiled. “Well, that would make a certain amount of sense. But in this case, it was the assassin himself who warned me of the danger. Given the trouble it takes to send just one, it’s doubtful another will show. And, really, with Peck around it wouldn’t matter if one did. Yes, Arwin is my name. And to be honest, advertising my presence has been my intention all along. I’ve taken pleasure imagining what consternation it might cause my cousin to hear me mentioned from time to time.”
A Mage Of None Magic (Book 1) Page 29
