The Mindmage's Wrath: A Book of Underrealm (The Academy Journals 2)

by Garrett Robinson

  Kalem bowed his head and said nothing. Theren leaned away in her chair, throwing an arm over its back. “I myself have always known which was which. To my mind, anyone who thinks they are one and the same is a fool.” She gave Ebon a hard look, and he glared back.

  But Adara only cocked her head. “I do not know if that is true.”

  As if to prove Theren wrong, Ebon reached down to where Adara’s hand rested in his lap, and scooped it up in his own. Without thinking, she laced her fingers through his, and he kissed the back of her palm. “I think that a night in bed may not always be a night in love,” he said softly. “And yet, sometimes, one may lead to the other, so that love springs forth unbidden.”

  The words sounded foolish in his own ears as he said them, and he half expected to receive one of Adara’s sharp, exasperated looks. But she smiled instead, a soft and gentle smile, hinting at nothing, promising so much. He had never known how much hidden meaning was in her eyes until then, when he saw it all removed, and could peer deep into her heart for the first time: pure and unadorned and revealed at last.

  She leaned in close, and in a murmur so low only he could hear it, said, “Sometimes love springs forth indeed.”

  Lover’s words, came the whisper in his mind. But he could not stop the thrill in his heart.

  twenty-one

  The rest of their dinner passed light and fair, and after they finished eating Kalem returned to the Academy with Theren. But Ebon and Adara stepped beyond the blue door, and he lingered there longer than he should have, so that by the time he returned to the streets he had to hurry home for fear of missing curfew. Upon a time that would not have troubled him, but now the Academy was strict about such things, and besides, he was still closely watched after his adventure in the vaults.

  He was only a few streets away when the sun vanished behind the western buildings, and he picked up his pace, intent on reaching the Academy before dark. But as he cut through an alley between two busy thoroughfares, a hand swept from the shadows and dragged him towards the wall. The hand clamped over his mouth, silencing his sharp and sudden cry. His every muscle tensed as he readied himself to fight, to cast a spell, to do something—but then he recognized Mako and scrabbled to drag the bodyguard’s hand away from his mouth.

  “There are other ways to get my attention,” he groused. “You frightened me half to death.”

  But then he paused, for Mako was looking all about him, peering over both shoulders as though expecting to see someone lurking, waiting to strike at them both. A crack around the corner made the man jump, though Ebon recognized it as the sound of a barrel falling from a cart. This was so unlike Mako’s usual conduct that Ebon was shocked into silence.

  “I have found something most interesting, little goldshitter. But we must act quickly if we are to take advantage of it.”

  Ebon frowned. “What is it? What did you find?”

  “You know I have my ways in and out of the Academy—ways that allow me to pass through the citadel unseen, to visit you, and to see what may be transpiring within its walls.”

  “I do, though I know not how, exactly.”

  “Nor should you.” Mako smiled for the first time, and Ebon found that strangely comforting. “Some knowledge is dangerous for others to have. Suffice it to say my pathways take me through nooks of the Academy that are seldom seen. Yet it seems one such nook has been visited by another.”

  His fingers fished in a pocket on his black leather vest, and from it he drew a piece of parchment. This he unfolded and held before Ebon.

  “Do you recognize this?”

  Ebon frowned—but only for a moment before his eyes shot wide with shock. It was a page torn from a vault logbook. From the yellowed edges, and the fact that the paper had been torn out, Ebon would have wagered it came from the same logbook they had found in the library, where they had learned of Kekhit’s amulet.

  “Where did you get this?”

  Mako cuffed his ear and snarled, “I told you, in one of the Academy’s hidden passages. You are not seeing what is important. Look again.”

  Ebon scanned the page. It described an orb of unknown origin and terrible destructive power. A mindmage could speak a word of power, and the orb would erupt in raw energy, killing all nearby. But then he saw what Mako wanted him to see: words in red ink, drawn near the bottom of the page and underlined twice.

  30 Febris

  He stared at it for a moment. “The Eve of Yearsend. What do you mean for me to see about it? It is today’s—”

  Realization struck him like a hammer blow, and his knees went weak. Mako saw it. His grin widened and turned cruel.

  “You see it now, do you not, goldshitter?”

  Ebon snatched the page and threw the bodyguard’s hand from where it held his shoulder against the wall. He began to sprint from the alley towards the Academy, but Mako seized his shoulder and dragged him back around.

  “Let me go! I must warn them!”

  “Warn who? Think, boy. What do you mean to do with what we know?”

  Ebon blinked at him. “Catch Lilith, of course.”

  “But catch her doing what, exactly? Show your instructors now, and doubtless they will post guards around the vault. Lilith’s name is not on that page. As it stands, she is blameless. You will not prove her guilt unless you find her with this orb afterward, for now you know what you are seeking.”

  Ebon shook his head at once. “No. I will not let her steal it. I must catch her in the act. Last time, an instructor lost his life, and there is every reason to believe that may happen again.”

  Mako frowned, but he must have seen the resolution in Ebon’s eyes. “Very well. Hurry then, goldbag, and pray you are not too late. I have heard no tumult in the Academy yet, so there may still be hope. But where will you say you found this page?”

  “I know not,” said Ebon, wanting to run. Even now he was wasting precious time. “Where did you find it?”

  Mako shook his head. “A fine attempt, but I am not so easily fooled. Say you found it under a hedge in the garden. Here.” He took the page, dropped it under his boot, and mushed it about with his heel. It came up grimy and torn in the corner. “That will help the lie. Now go!”

  Ebon turned and sprinted for the Academy’s front door.

  Ebon’s shoes pounded on the stone floors of the hallways, and the slapping sound ran on ahead of him, echoing all around so that it sounded as though an army ran beside him.

  But no. No army. Only me, and mayhap too late.

  At first he thought to make for the vaults, to catch Lilith himself, but almost at once he realized the folly of such a plan. She might have Kekhit’s amulet, and therefore power beyond reckoning—but even at her weakest, she was far more than Ebon’s match. So he ran instead for the instructors’ offices.

  Halfway there, he rounded a corner and nearly ran into Theren. Eyes wide, she opened her mouth to ask him a question. “No time!” he cried, wheezing and short of breath, and ran on. She caught up a moment later, running by his side.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Jia. Lilith is about to strike.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she doubled her pace. She reached Jia’s office before he did, and threw open the door for him. They practically fell in across the doorstep. He thanked the sky above, for Jia was there at her desk with Dasko. Both instructors looked at them wide-eyed in shock.

  “What is the matter?” said Jia.

  “Instructor,” said Ebon, wheezing as he thrust forth the logbook page. A fit of coughing claimed him, but he choked out his words. “I found this. The vault thief—they mean to strike again. Tonight.”

  He thought she might look alarmed, or mayhap frightened, but she glared at him instead. “Ebon, you were specifically warned to stay out of—”

  “No!” cried Ebon. “I found this in the gardens by chance, I swear it. Just look, Instructor!”

  Dasko had taken the page from Ebon, his eyes scanning the text. He took Jia’s arm, and she m
et his eyes. For half a moment they stared at each other, Ebon nearly holding his breath.

  A blast rocked the Academy, thundering through the halls. A chorus of screams followed it.

  Jia and Dasko fled the room, forgetting all about Ebon, who followed at once. On he ran, though Jia screamed at them to stay back, to return to their dormitories. On, past the students who stood mute and terrified, torn between curiosity at the commotion and fear of another attack, and mayhap a corpse awaiting them all. On, with Theren beside him saying “Not again, not again, sky above, please,” a terrible whimper made all the worse coming from her.

  Another boom rocked the hallways, and more screams told them which way to go—though of course they did not need guidance, for they knew the tumult would be in the vaults. Just before they rounded the corner and reached the entrance, Jia and Dasko’s eyes glowed white, and the two wizards transformed. Jia’s robes sank into her flesh, and hair sprouted all over her body as she turned into a massive bear, its head nearly striking the ceiling. Dasko had become a beast of the far northern jungles, a catlike beast with a huge mane of golden fur. Together they roared, loud and terrifying enough to make Ebon’s heart skip a beat. Almost he stopped in his tracks, for his limbs had seized up, but he forced himself onward. Theren had not abandoned the chase, and her eyes glowed as she reached for her magic. He would not abandon his friend, nor his instructors, though he did not know what he might do to help.

  They crashed through the first door and into the vault’s office. The last time Ebon had passed through it quickly—once on the way in, and once while being escorted out by Jia and Xain. He remembered the two high, tall windows in the walls, which now were open, their shutters flapping. He remembered the wide wooden desk where Egil worked, and the several smaller desks around the room’s edges, where students performed their servitude.

  But now his eyes were drawn to the student hovering in the air ten feet off the floor, body and limbs crushed by the wind gusting in through the windows, whipping him about in a spinning funnel of destruction. A lanky towheaded boy, eyes wide with pain and fright. Astrea’s friend, Vali.

  And Vali was screaming as magic crushed the life from him.

  Horror-struck, Ebon was so focused on Vali that at first he missed Lilith. Then he saw her—standing near the vault’s entry, the door open, her eyes glowing and her hands lifted high, commanding the squall as it battered the boy. Her mouth was open in a grimace, flashing her white teeth as she shouted at Vali: “Stop it! Stop it!”

  Theren gave a wordless cry as her eyes sprang to light, and she leapt forwards to fight Lilith’s magic. Jia and Dasko stormed ahead, one of Jia’s massive paws catching Lilith in the chest and flinging her to the ground, while Dasko planted a clawed foot on her abdomen. But Lilith managed to keep an arm raised, and the glow in her eyes did not die. Her lips quivered with words of power.

  Ebon searched the room for something, anything to do. He saw a number of other students who had gathered at the commotion—Lilith’s friends Oren and Nella were there, and some other members of the Goldbag Society. Isra was there, her dark brown eyes wide and staring, horror-struck, at Vali suspended in midair.

  He leapt forwards and pushed the three of them to draw their attention. “Use your power! Stop her!”

  Oren blinked without understanding, and Isra did not even look away from where Vali hung in the air. Ebon shoved Oren harder. “Stop her!” he cried again, pleading.

  As though waking from a dream, Oren shook his head. He nudged Ebon aside as light sprang into his eyes. Nella, too, shook off her horror as a light sprang into her eyes.

  But it was too late. With a cry, Lilith’s arm fell to the stone floor. Vali screamed as the wind blasted him towards the wall. He struck the stones with the force of a thunderbolt. A wet snap filled the air.

  He crashed to the ground, head lolling to the side at a hideous angle.

  The room fell silent for a long moment. Then a piercing scream stabbed the quiet behind Ebon. He turned, and his heart broke. There, in the vault’s outer doorway, stood Astrea, clawing at her cheeks and neck as her wail rose higher and higher on the air, until it seemed to be the only thing in the world.

  “Get her out of here!” Jia had taken human form again, and she waved a sharp hand at Ebon as she spoke. Shaken from his inaction, he went forwards to take Astrea’s arm and pull her from the room. Isra darted to his side and reached down, sweeping Astrea up into her arms.

  As he stepped out through the door, he took a final glance back. Lilith had been seized by the instructors and several students. Someone had found a gag and wrapped it around her mouth. She stood staring after Astrea with wild, sightless eyes. Theren stood to the side, stricken with horror.

  Then the door closed behind him, and there was only Astrea’s scream. He tried to put a comforting hand on the girl’s arm, tried to speak words of peace. But Isra had very nearly enshrouded the girl, and her eyes filled with raw fury whenever Ebon tried to reach out.

  “Astrea,” he said, trying to avoid Isra’s hateful glare. “Astrea, it is all right. It is all right.”

  “It is not all right!” Astrea screamed, slapping at his hand. “He is dead!”

  “Go away,” Isra hissed. She turned back to Astrea, holding her closer, murmuring to her. Ebon barely made out the words. “Be calm. Be calm. Breathe deeply, and put Vali from your mind.”

  Astrea’s breath came ragged, sucked in and pushed out between her teeth. Her hands shook where they clutched at Isra’s robes. But slowly the tears stopped pouring from her eyes. Slowly her look grew far away as she focused on Isra’s words. Her breaths grew deeper. Calmer.

  “There,” said Ebon quietly. “Good. Well done.”

  “I told you to leave us,” said Isra. She released Astrea for a moment and stepped towards him, pushing him hard in the chest. “You filthy goldbags. Can you not leave us alone? Can you create nothing but blood and suffering?”

  Ebon blinked at her. “I ... I had nothing to do—”

  “Be silent!” Isra cried.

  Her eyes blazed with light. Fear seized Ebon’s heart as an unseen force hoisted him a foot above the stone floor, and he knew it was her magic.

  “You never fail to find ways to kill us without blame. How many died in the attack on the Seat? Who started this war? Who will die on its battlefields? Not you, goldbag.”

  He tried to speak, but could not. Some students stood within sight of them, but they were frozen in horror. Ebon swallowed hard and tried again. “I want nothing of this war,” he said, every word quivering. “I am sorry. I know not what madness seized Lilith, I swear it.”

  For a moment she only stood there, chest heaving with her breath. But then she let the glow slip from her eyes, and Ebon fell to the floor, only just managing to keep his feet. “Leave,” she rasped, and then turned to Astrea, who clung to her once more. “Leave, goldbag. You can do nothing to help. Only hurt.”

  Ebon wanted to answer, but had no words to do so. Instead he turned and moved off down the hallway.

  twenty-two

  Ebon woke to a dark day at the Academy.

  It was the first day of Yearsend, but there was no celebration. Ebon was grateful that classes were suspended for the holiday, for he could not imagine trying to sit in Perrin’s classroom and read tomes of magic.

  Instead he, Kalem, and Theren went out into the gardens. Many students had chosen to remain inside, for it was now the dead of winter, and so they were alone among the hedges and bare rosebushes. For a while they said nothing, listening only to the crunch of their shoes in the snow, watching only the mist of their breath upon the air. Ebon had his hood up against the weather, as did his friends, and so they rarely even looked at each other.

  “She stole more artifacts from the vaults,” Theren said at last. “From what I can tell, the count is more than half a dozen. I no longer serve in the vaults, but I spoke with Egil, and he let it slip. She must have gone back and forth a few times, emptying rooms until Vali
...” Her words tapered off.

  Ebon shrugged his shoulders, hunching them as though against a bitter wind. He could scarcely close his eyes without seeing the boy’s head twisting to the side and hearing the snap of a neck. Credell’s death, at least, had happened out of sight. And he was an instructor. To murder a child so young ... it made him heartsick to imagine the letter that must have been sent home to Vali’s family.

  Lilith had been dragged off and delivered to the Mystics. They would not kill her at once, though the penalty of death was certain. First, they would try to learn where the stolen artifacts had gone. He had been there when they took her away. Before they managed to gag her, she had muttered, “He was supposed to join us,” over and over again. As she passed him in the hall, she had still been trying to repeat it around the cloth that gagged her.

  “Credell was a tragedy,” said Theren, the words quivering. “But had I ever imagined she might kill a boy so young, I would have stopped her. I would have snapped her neck mys—” Her voice shattered at last, and she hid her face behind her hood, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Ebon had only seen Theren weep once before, and like then, it was an unnerving sight. He and Kalem looked away, feeling suddenly awkward.

  Footsteps crunched across the snow towards them, and they looked up, grateful for the distraction. To Ebon’s surprise, he saw Dasko. The instructor came forward with his hood up and hands tucked into sleeves, shielding them from winter’s chill. He stopped a few feet away and nodded to each of them in turn.

  “Well met,” he said softly. “I had hoped ... I am sorry I could not come and see you earlier, Ebon. But I wondered if I might still speak with you, as I requested some time ago? I would not think to trouble you now. But perhaps tonight, after the Yearsend feast?”

  Ebon glanced at Kalem and Theren. “Of course, Instructor.”