Kyralia 01 - [Black Magician 00] - The Magician's Apprentice

by Trudi Canavan

  I’m fine. Uninjured.

  She could not recall how she had ended up like this. She remembered having to leave the garden after they heard sounds of people moving about inside the house. She recalled hurrying down the main road, trying to keep to the shadows. She remembered passing burning houses. After that... nothing.

  Had they been attacked? She’d not even been shielding. Jayan had told her to avoid using any magic unless she needed to. She hadn’t seen what had knocked her out. Her and . . .

  Jayan? Where? She sat up and cast about. It was dark, only a glow of red from a fire burning low nearby lighting the road and rubble. Everything smelled of smoke and dust. Not daring to create a light and risk revealing her position, she got to her feet and felt her way forwards, circling about.

  Suddenly her hands felt soft cloth rather than harsh stone. She recognised the shape and resistance of a leg beneath the fabric. A familiar smell teased her nose. Metallic. Like blood. But then all she could smell was smoke.

  Maybe she had imagined it.

  “Jayan?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  Feeling her way up the leg, she reached the waist, and wet stickiness. Her stomach sank. Whoever it was, they were bleeding. Her nose had been right.

  I need light. I have to risk it.

  Concentrating, she created the tiniest globe of light, cupping it between her hands. At once she knew two things: she had found Jayan and he had terrible injuries. Her heart lurched with dread. Was he dead or alive? She moved her hands further apart so the light spilled out. At once she saw the wound, a hole in his abdomen that seeped blood. Her heart filled with a wry hope. If blood was still flowing, he wasn’t dead yet.

  “Jayan,” she said, reaching out and shaking his shoulder. “Wake up.”

  His eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus. Then he grimaced, squeezed his eyes tight then opened them again. This time his gaze locked onto her face.

  “Tessia?” he croaked. “Are you all right?”

  A wave of affection washed over her, almost overwhelming in its strength. For all his infuriating arrogance, and inability to empathise with others at times, he does think of others before himself.

  “I’m fine. A bit bruised.” She paused. “You’re not.”

  He grimaced. “I certainly don’t feel all right.”

  “I’m going to heal you,” she told him.

  He opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it again and nodded. “I’d be disappointed in you if you didn’t try, at least,” he said.

  She pulled a face at him, then pulled the fabric of his tunic up to expose his belly. Placing her hands either side of the wound, she closed her eyes and sent her mind forth.

  At once she knew the damage was far worse than it appeared from outside. Something had penetrated deep into his abdomen, perforating the tube that snaked and coiled out from the stomach. Liquids had leaked from these into places normally protected from them, and were causing more damage. Blood had filled spaces between organs and was crushing them. Too much blood. He could die of blood loss alone.

  For a moment she despaired. How could magic fix this? It was impossible. Jayan was doomed.

  No! I can’t let him die. I have to try!

  Drawing magic, she blocked the openings in the tubes to stop the contents seeping out. Then she gathered up the muck that had escaped and forced it out of his body via the wound. Turning her attention to the blood expanding the cavities it was leaking into, she channelled it out as well. That helped her find the sources of the bleeding, and clamp shut the damaged pulse paths.

  What now?

  She could feel his body weakening. Remembering how she had sensed the poisoned magician’s body using magic to repair itself, she looked for the same process happening within Jayan.

  There. I see it. But there is still no way it is going to heal him in time. There is too much damage.

  – Help me.

  Surprised, Tessia’s mind nearly slipped out of his body.

  – Jayan? Are you talking to me? –

  Tessia? Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to distract you. I think I was dreaming...

  He was delirious.

  – Hold on, she urged. Don’t give up yet.

  – I’ll never give up on you.

  Turning her mind back to the damage, she considered it carefully. There must be some way to mimic this healing magic. She tried to send magic into him, but could not shape it into anything but heat or force. Something nagged at her. Jayan’s words echoed in her mind. “Help me.” She would never forgive herself if she could not save him. There must be a way to do what his body was doing. “Help me.” Or at least speed his body’s healing up...

  Wait... Perhaps she didn’t need to copy his body, just give it more magic. Boost the healing process with a lot more power. Drawing magic, she sent it in a gentle, unformed flow to mingle with that already flowing from him to the wounded areas of his body. It became part of that flow, was shaped in whatever mysterious way his body shaped it for healing.

  That’s it!

  She had doubled the flow, and saw double the effect. Now she sent greater amounts of power in, and saw the healing increase rapidly. She concentrated on the rents in the tubes and watched them slowly shrink and close. She sent power to the torn pulse paths and felt a rush of triumph as they all but snapped shut. The general damage to his insides from the toxic liquids was more subtle, but soon she could feel a sense of rightness return.

  As she channelled power into him she began to feel the way his body used the magic. She understood it in an instinctive way that she could not have explained to another. Perhaps if I somehow memorise the way this feels and flows, I can apply my own magic to a non-magician and heal them, too.

  Soon the damage within his abdomen was all but gone. She concentrated on the tear in his skin, boosting the magic until flesh drew close to flesh and knitted itself together. But even as she saw the scar tissue form, she knew that he was not completely healed.

  He had lost a lot of blood. Delving deeper, she wondered if there was anything she could do to replace it. Healers did not agree on which organ produced blood. But if he rested, ate and drank some water perhaps his body would recover by itself.

  – Tessia?

  – Yes, Jayan?

  – I felt that. I felt you healing me. I wasn’t imagining it, was I?

  – No. I’ve found it. The secret. It’s—

  – Don’t tell me.

  – What? Why not? More people need to know. In case you’ve forgotten, we are both still in the middle of a war, stuck on our own in a city of people who want to kill us. If I die this discovery will be lost.

  She felt a wave of emotion from him. Fear. Protectiveness. Affection. Longing. All mingled, yet something else.

  – Don’t talk about dying, he told her. You have to survive this war. I’ve waited too long and it’s almost over.

  – What are you talking about?

  But she knew even as she asked. She felt it leaking through the cracks of his self-control. Even as she recognised it and felt astonishment, she felt her own body respond in a way that no healer had ever been able to explain in a satisfactory matter. One of the mysteries. One of the more delightful mysteries, her father would have once said. What was the heart for but to pump blood? Why then did it do this other, inexplicable thing?

  And why me? Why not some rich woman? Some pretty apprentice?

  – I love you, he told her.

  Sweet joy rushed through her. But there was a distinct smugness about his words. He’d sensed her feelings in return, and was pleased with himself for doing so.

  – Turns out I love you too, she replied, communicating her wry amusement. Of all the annoying people in the world.

  – Poor Tessia, he mocked.

  – I’m sure as soon as we get back to Imardin you’ll be off flirting with rich, pretty girls. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you the secret of healing. It’ll make you even more appealing to them.

  – More app
ealing than I already am? He didn’t pause to let her retort. Actually, you are right. It would be safer if another person knew.

  So she told him, and when she was sure he had grasped it she withdrew her mind from his body. As she opened her eyes she felt a hand slip behind her neck and draw her down. Jayan rose and pressed his mouth to hers. Surprised, she resisted a moment. Then a shiver ran through her, not cold but warm and wonderful. She kissed him back, liking the way his lips moved against hers, and responding in kind.

  I could get to like this.

  She almost protested when he let her go. They stared at each other for a moment, then both began to smile. Then Jayan’s smile faded again. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at his bloodied clothes, then grimaced and put a hand to his forehead.

  “Dizzy,” he said.

  “You’ll be faint and weak for a while,” she told him.

  “We can’t stay here.”

  “No,” she agreed, standing up. Looking round, she saw that the fire in the house nearby had almost burned itself out. “Let’s hide in there until morning. Nobody will bother entering because anything valuable will have been burned, and the walls might fall in. I can protect us with a shield.”

  “Yes. This is the main road, after all. We can keep watch, and come out when someone we know passes by. It might take a while, but someone is sure to come along eventually. Where’s your bag?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, though. If I can make this healing work on non-magicians, I won’t need cures or tools any more.”

  He nodded, then rose to his feet in stages, first sitting up, then rising into a squat, then leaning over, and finally straightening. As they started towards the house she felt a wave of tiredness and stumbled. Healing had taken more magic than she’d realised.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Jayan asked.

  “Yes. Just tired.”

  “Well, wait until we get inside before you fall asleep, won’t you?”

  She gave him a withering look, then let him lead her into the house.

  CHAPTER 49

  Anagging thirst dragged Jayan out of sleep. He opened his eyes and saw charred walls bathed in morning light. They looked no softer than the surface he was lying against. His body ached. There was a pressure on his arm. He looked down.

  Tessia lay curled up against his side, asleep.

  His heart lifted and suddenly the hardness of the wall and ground wasn’t so unbearable.

  I should have waited until the war was over and we were safe, he thought. But she was there, too close to my mind, and I couldn’t hide how I felt.

  Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything.

  She loves me. Despite all the stupid things I’ve said. Despite me pushing her away. He realised he hadn’t expected her to. That he’d thought that, when they returned to Imardin and he gathered the courage to let her know his feelings, she’d turn him away.

  Maybe she would change her mind. When she was famous for discovering healing. When she grew older. She was still young. Seventeen or eighteen? He couldn’t remember. When he considered what he had been like at that age – constantly changing his mind – he couldn’t delude himself that she would never grow tired of him and find some other person to be interested in.

  But she is not like me at that age. She fixes on something and remains true to it – like healing. Perhaps she will be the same with people. With me. And I wasn’t completely incapable of sticking to one thing back then. Nothing ever took away my interest in magic, or my loyalty to Dakon.

  He reached for the bowl of water she had brought him last night, after disappearing into the burned house for a while, and drank deeply. The water tasted of smoke. He closed his eyes and let time slide past.

  After a while something roused him. In the distance the sound of hoofbeats echoed. Several horses, coming closer. Jayan felt his heart skip a beat. He and Tessia had meant to take it in turns to sleep, the other watching for passing Kyralians, but they had both succumbed to exhaustion. He suspected the healing had used a lot of Tessia’s power. She had probably needed the sleep as much as he had.

  The hoofbeats were growing rapidly louder.

  As he shifted, intending to disturb Tessia as little as possible, her eyes flew open. She blinked at him, then frowned.

  “Is that horses?”

  Instantly awake, she pushed herself to her feet. Jayan rose and they both moved to the broken wall. Peering out, they saw twenty or so Kyralian magicians riding towards them. Jayan looked around, checking for signs that anybody might be watching. The road and nearby houses appeared deserted. He stepped out and waved an arm at the riders.

  The magicians slowed to a stop. Jayan smiled as he recognised Lord Bolvin at the front, Lord Tarrakin beside him.

  “Any chance of a ride?” he asked.

  Bolvin grinned. “Magician Jayan, Apprentice Tessia, it is good to see you both survived. Dakon will be relieved. He came back last night but couldn’t find you.” He looked over his shoulder. “We’re heading to the edge of the city first. You’ll have to ride double.”

  Two magicians came forward and Jayan and Tessia climbed up behind them.

  Jayan looked around. “Has anyone seen Mikken?”

  “He’s back with the army.”

  Bolvin urged his horse into motion and the rest of the riders followed suit.

  The city was quiet, but now and then Jayan noticed someone scurrying away down a side road. They passed the place where Jayan and Tessia had been separated from the army. Soon after, when walls no longer lined the road, and fields surrounded buildings, the group halted. Five of them, including Bolvin, separated from the rest, each accompanied by a servant and an apprentice and leading a riderless horse laden with baggage. Jayan caught enough of the conversation to understand that they were returning to Imardin. At first he assumed it was to deliver news of the victory, but then he realised that the news would already have reached Kyralia via the blood gem rings.

  The thought sent a shiver of excitement down his back. I wish we were going with them. He realised he was tired of war. I want to be home, wherever that is now, with Tessia. I want to start a magicians’ guild and help Tessia develop magical healing.

  As Bolvin and his companions rode into the distance, Lord Tarrakin turned his horse around.

  “They’re on their own now,” he said. “The king said we should return as quickly as possible.”

  The remaining magicians turned and headed back into the city. Soon they were riding through parts of Arvice Jayan hadn’t seen yet. He admired the tree-lined avenue leading up to the Imperial Palace. The palace was, surprisingly, undamaged. Servants came out to take the horses. Jayan dismounted, relieved to no longer be riding on the uncomfortable edge of the saddle.

  Moving to Tessia’s side, he followed the magicians into the palace. Just like the Sachakan-built houses in Imardin, a corridor led to a large room for meeting and entertaining guests. But the corridor was wide enough to ride ten horses through, and the room was an enormous column-lined hall. Voices echoed inside.

  “We can’t abolish slavery entirely,” a voice declared. “We must do it in stages. Start with personal servants. Leave the slaves that produce food and do the least pleasant work to last, or else Sachaka will starve while drowning in its own refuse.”

  Narvelan, Jayan thought, a familiar chill running down his spine. Why doesn’t it surprise me that he wants to keep slavery going? Yet he couldn’t help agreeing with the magician. Freeing all slaves at once would cause chaos.

  As Jayan neared the end of the room he saw that several magicians were sitting in a circle. The king wasn’t using the enormous gilt throne in the middle of the room, Jayan noted, though the chair he was sitting on was large and had a back and arms, while the rest were backless stools. Beyond them, other magicians were standing around the room, some listening to the discussion, others talking.

  One of the magicians began to rise from his seat, then glanced at
the king and sat down again. Dakon. Jayan smiled at his former master’s relieved expression.

  “We must also keep the populace here weak,” Narvelan continued. “But not so that we are weakened along with them. Freeing the personal slaves means that the remaining magicians will have to pay the people who serve them.”

  Jayan saw the king nod, then look up at the newcomers. “Lord Tarrakin. Have Lord Bolvin and the others left?”

  “Yes. We also found Magician Jayan and Apprentice Tessia.”

  The king looked at Tessia, then Jayan. “I am glad to hear you both survived the night.” He frowned and looked from Tessia to Dakon. “Since you have agreed to stay and help rule Sachaka, will your apprentice be staying with you?”

  Jayan drew in a quick breath. Dakon is staying? Surely not! He has a village to rebuild, and a ley to run.

  But he found he could easily believe Dakon would choose to stay and help the Sachakans. Perhaps in order to redress the harm the army had done.

  And Tessia will have to stay with him...

  “I have been considering that,” Dakon said. “If Tessia does not want to stay here she is free to go.”

  “I couldn’t leave you, Lord Dakon,” she said.

  The king turned to regard her. “You have a gift, Apprentice Tessia. A gift of healing that you might teach others. If I asked you to return to Imardin with me, would you agree?”

  She bit her lip. She glanced at him, then at Dakon.

  “Who... who will take over my apprenticeship?”

  Jayan felt his heart skip. Could he...?

  “I will.”

  All turned to see Lady Avaria stride towards the circle from the side of the room.

  “Dakon mentioned that he was considering staying,” she explained. “I thought of Tessia, and how she might not want to remain here, and that perhaps it is time I took on an apprentice of my own.” She looked at Tessia and smiled. “I can’t hope to match Lord Dakon’s experience, but I promise to do my best.”

  All eyes shifted to Tessia. She looked at Avaria, then at Dakon, then at Jayan, then turned to face the king.