Magience: second edition

by Cari Silverwood

  She barely heard his words, gasping as before her eyes a panoramic view of the countryside opened, looking out from within the fringe of a forest. Along the road, advancing toward her, was a hodge-podge army. Armor-clad soldiers, begrimed farmers with scythes, picks and pitchforks, horse soldiers on gleaming mounts and carts overloaded with ragged men. They came toward her silently at a plodding pace and with determination in their every step.

  She jerked her head away. “An army comes!” Thollemew’s words returned to her. “There are pieces of brain inside these things?”

  Frowning Thollemew Smythe steered her farther away. “The brain is harmless. Donated freely by Immolators who have also done – ”

  “Their duty.” She nodded, screwing up her mouth. “I get it.”

  “Don’t mock their sacrifice,” he snapped. “Some people know their place on this earth.”

  Her mouth set in a line, she stared back at him.

  “I show you this – ” He stopped himself, red-faced, took a deep breath, and spoke more quietly. “You are an exasperating woman. Yes, an army comes. They will be here within a day, we think. Frope and his associates have finally roused the disaffected of Carstelan with false promises...and by charging the Imperator and Princess Sasskia with violating the laws of this land. Id est, ‘thou shall not suffer a mage to live.’ They aim to overthrow the Imperator. In doing so they will start an inferno that will burn throughout this realm, killing far more people and destroying far more than any war with the Grakkurds has ever done. If you’re wondering, no, Frope has not ever, ever said a word against our war with them. Destroying a reigning monarch is worse than making an omelet – you end up breaking a lot more eggs than you can afford to.

  “So...there you have it. Much is at stake here. Perhaps there is another way to do this, so that you needn’t injure yourself – another source of power. Try. Please. All of my knowledge is at your disposal. I have followed Blissman’s work for many years.”

  “And what happens if I won’t do this?”

  “What happens...if you...” He made as if to slam his fist on the table, only stopping at the last moment. “How can you still... If it was up to me... Nothing. Nothing is what happens. He has specifically said this to me. You will live happily ever after, if you can escape that mob, and you will have failed your people, your Imperator and yourself.”

  Ellinca forced herself to breathe evenly. “I think I can live with that.”

  Smiling grimly, he summoned the guard. “Take her down there now.” He rested his gaze on her again. “You have one night to think this over, and then, I suppose, we must set you free. One way or the other.”

  His words circulated in her head as two guards marched her away.

  Chapter 26

  The Blood-Stained Sword

  Ellinca sat in the darkness on the cold stone floor. The grit, dust and mustiness made her want to sneeze. Like the last of the corridors on the way here, upon the floor was the accumulated debris of years of missed cleaning.

  No spider webs at least. Perhaps this dungeon was too miserable for them. Or perhaps there was simply not enough prey. Something stung her skin. She slapped at it and heard it buzz away. Mosquitoes were here, but then they loved moisture. The underground water that fed into the zoo was somewhere near. A background rumbling roar gently vibrated the very rock around her, and a stream of cool air brushed past her cheek.

  She had not yet been brave enough to explore. The guards had shoved her backward into this room, winding her badly, slammed shut the door – a heavy metal grate – then locked it and ran. That had scared her – that the two guards would run. Why run? She had yelled after them but they had not replied and she could only watch despairingly as the light from their trink lamp dwindled to nothing. Surely Thollemew Smythe would not order her to be put somewhere dangerous?

  If she could find a piece of wire, even a thin scrap of metal, she could try unlocking the door. She fumbled through her memories. Pascolli had taught her most of the principles of using a picklock through drawings, though Kurt would have been horrified to know they had practiced on his strongbox.

  A new sound intruded, that of metal scraping on metal. It was somewhere off to her left. She held her breath as she strained to hear more. Nothing. There came sounds to her right, at the door. A shuffling of something against the floor, and breathing – heavy, animal breathing. There were little noises that almost weren’t there at all then something dripped. There came a tang, a smell in the air – of hot metal, or fresh blood. The door creaked on its hinges. The shuffling drew nearer and her throat tightened. Was there something there? Was that a hulking shape against the bars?

  Frantic, she felt to the left. The floor ended. She crawled her fingers down the face of the edge, praying there would be a step. Something breathed on her face. Her heart stalled...

  Something licked her in one wet slurp from chin to mouth to eyebrow, leaving behind a trail of saliva and the stale odor that comes from not brushing one’s teeth – ever.

  She gasped, her hands coming up before her face. With no weapon, she was almost defenseless. Her fingers shaking, she reached out, touched, and instantly she knew what it was.

  “Gangar?” Relief flooded through her. He licked her again as she fumbled over the fur on his head to his ears then down his neck until she found Mogg, nestled there like a warm pulsating scarf. “You’re both here! I wish I could see you.”

  The door must be open – somehow Gangar had opened it. Of course, the lock was metal and to Mogg that was a meal not a barrier.

  Should she, could she just walk out? Thollemew Smythe had promised her freedom but trusting him would be dumb. She’d have to somehow find her way back into the upper levels of the palace then get out of the palace itself without being seen. The second might be possible – there were so few people in this place. Had they deserted or died? After all, full Immolators only survived a short time. Or was the Imperator only keeping near him those upon whom he could rely? Either way, it gave her a better chance.

  Something sighed deeply out there in the darkness, something a bare few yards away. Fear lanced into her. Metal chinked. Slowly, quietly Ellinca inched her back up the wall and stood in a half-crouch.

  “There is a rope hanging from the ceiling.”

  The words were ominous and threatening.

  “It turns on a light.”

  Her fear ebbed. She remembered to breathe. She knew that voice.

  “Dost?”

  “Yes, it is I.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. Dost. Here in the dark with her, in this forsaken dungeon that seemed so far into the earth that hell could only be a few steps farther. And it was true, she thought ruefully, that if she could have picked anyone to be here with her, someone she could rely upon, it would be him. She shook her head at her foolishness.

  “I will tell you where it is if you promise not to look at me.” His voice was slow and thick, like a man who had drunk far too many beers.

  She stilled. “Why? Why say that? What is wrong?”

  “Will you promise me that? And that you’ll leave with Gangar through that door he has somehow opened? Promise that you’ll leave without looking back?”

  Twenty or thirty heartbeats it took her to decide. “Yes, I will.” Ellinca crossed her fingers as she did so. Sometimes it was best to ignore what people asked.

  “Take two steps at an angle to your right and reach up.”

  She followed these directions and, with some fumbling about, found the rope.

  The light in the ceiling was strong enough to shine to all four walls of the room, though there were shadows where four columns supported the ceiling.

  When she knew she shouldn’t look at something it became an enormous effort to not look. Her eyes strained to swing that way, and no matter how she tried, she gradually became aware that Dost lay flat on the floor at the far side of the room. Something held him there she was sure, and there was some strange movement around him that remin
ded her of worms. She shuddered.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  There was a hesitation to his words, as if he found it hard to think, or needed to consider what he said carefully. “What a question...from you of all people. I am as well as can be expected.”

  She slid back down the wall and sat with her forehead resting against Gangar, patting him slowly. Mogg swarmed along her arm to end up in her lap.

  The way he spoke...someone else had once spoken like that to her though she couldn’t recall who...

  He sounded so sad. So lost. Something awful must have happened.

  “You can go now. I can tell you a way out that may help you to escape.”

  Tempting. To go, to leave, to forget all this. Perhaps it was what she should do.

  “You promised to go. What keeps you?”

  Something kept her there. She knew exactly what. Like Pascolli had said, follow your heart. At least then any mistakes made would be the right ones. Yes, but what about when her heart said stay, and her mind said go. This place so reeked of menace, of ways to get hurt. She slumped. “Can we talk?”

  “Talk? No. I don’t think so. Please, go. You can unhook the light. Take it with you.”

  “No.” No running away, not this time.

  “Promises – ”

  “Are made to be broken!” She spoke savagely and almost looked, but didn’t, for the fear of what she might see.

  “I, having been taught manners, have never thought of them that way. Go away!”

  She snorted, knowing he simply meant to anger her.

  “I am too tired for this, Ellinca. Tell me this, though. What is that luminescence that comes whenever you touch Gangar? Even in this light I see it.”

  She lifted her head and saw it too. A blueness flickered here and there about the cell. “Since I came here, to the palace, there have been ghosts. Perhaps this is somehow to do with them?”

  “Ahh, it makes sense, that there would be ghosts...here. And tuskdogs are thought to be partway to the world of the dead. Like me. He’s a conduit, a pathway for them perhaps.” He went silent.

  Ellinca sat up a little, there had been interest in his voice. She must keep him that way, keep him alert and thinking about the world around him.

  “So tired... The ghosts...are they because of her? Sasskia?” His voice caught. “She made me how I am? Didn’t she?”

  “Yes,” she whispered into Gangar’s neck. “Yes, she did, and that is partly why I stay. I’m confused! Help me decide what to do. I think perhaps I should do the right thing.”

  “The right thing? I’m...honored that you ask me. If only you’d asked much earlier. Ah, well. Tell me then. Everything, and I’ll try to help.”

  She did. The words spilled out in a torrent until she reached the point of her arrival at the dungeon. Ellinca fell silent, sure she’d told him too much, but glad that someone else knew the whole of it. At least she’d stirred him from the gloom in which he’d drowned himself. That pleased her.

  “So. Father asks you to heal Sasskia. Little Sasskia. She’s always been my favorite too. Each other’s favorites. We’re close in age. We were still playing games when my brothers were off playing real wars.”

  She jumped. In the quiet she had heard something flopping about on the floor near Dost, making the chains rattle. Whatever it was came no closer to her. She hadn’t even a club and it was guaranteed this cell was bare of weapons.

  “I can forgive her, if you are wondering – I can forgive Sasskia. We were never apart for long, even when at college I would come back to visit her. Perhaps that was my downfall. A secret visit when father forbade it. I remember nothing, nothing at all. But I digress.” He sighed deeply.

  She got to her feet as quietly as she could.

  “One – you believe you can heal her and thus, I guess, save my family from ruin and death, though you will almost certainly die in the process.” He half-laughed. “A drawback that. Two – you can run far, far away and leave us all to our just, or unjust deserts. Ellinca, I would give anything, anything at all, to save my sister. Except a life that is not mine to give. My father and Thollemew, they ask too much. Let my father release you then run. As fast and as far as you can.”

  “But then...then everything goes wrong! I don’t quite understand, but if Thollemew Smythe told me the truth, lots of innocent people will die.”

  “From an internal war? Yes. I would say he is right in his prediction. Civil war, rioting, and so on. History likes to repeat itself.”

  “And the Grakks will go down with it. Frope’s not interested in helping them either. There’s one other choice that you didn’t say. I can heal you instead. I can perhaps partly heal you, then...” Ellinca steeled herself to look.

  “Then what? No. You must run. You cannot heal me without hurting yourself. Not now. Stop! I see what you do, girl. Turn away. I have helped you. Run away now! Go!”

  “I have to look. Or I’ll forever wonder if I could have helped you. Don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t. Turn away.”

  “I can’t just turn away. Scum it! You didn’t leave me when the Grakks were going to send me to the Bheulakks.” Even now the thought of that made her feel sick.

  “Oh, gods.” He said nothing for a while. “You’ll never live this down, you know. Helping a bludvoik.”

  Ellinca blushed.

  “Look, first let me tell you my story.”

  She nodded.

  “When you left us I had to reveal that it was you who partly changed me...”

  After that it had not taken long for Krueger and Dayna to decide he had little chance of ever fulfilling his promise to completely regain his human body. Thus convincing the Imperator to negotiate peace with anyone, let alone the Grakkurd nation, was unlikely. They had left him at the run-down inn at which they had made their base. Supposedly they were going to further explore the city.

  They did not return. By nightfall he knew they had other reasons to be out. He easily tracked down Haddrash at the bustling lower town docks.

  “My sense of smell is acute. I can find most people within a five- or six-mile radius.” Dost sounded embarrassed by this.

  “Though he professed not to know their intent he suspected they no longer aimed for a peaceful solution. Haddrash has many connections – both lawful ones and ones on the seedier, less lawful side of things. But he’s a shrewd businessman and he hates this war as much as we do – if not more, for it also spoils his profits. If my father is deposed he will suffer financially. He knew which gate they had left by and the road they were on, and he’d been wondering what to do about it, because the end of that road comes here.”

  Ellinca frowned to herself. Dayna had trusted her, befriended her when she had been alone. She had a bad feeling about where this was heading.

  Dost had abandoned any thought of subterfuge, stolen a string of horses, and galloped after them. Presumably Dayna and Krueger had been traveling more cautiously and therefore more slowly.

  “You knew that Krueger was Kaddash?” she asked.

  “Yes. I found out after we arrived in Carstelan. They’re the auratrists’ private army. Immolators are good but they have certain flaws. If you know what you are doing, it is possible to defeat them, one on one.”

  To hear that said so matter-of-factly surprised her.

  “I knew he must be going to try to slay my father.” He was quiet for a while. Ellinca waited.

  “My father was out in the gardens here. Krueger had gotten through the outer ring of guards and he slew the only full Immolator and all the others before I could reach him. They wounded him sorely but it was not enough to stop him.” His voice caught before he continued, dully, as if he were describing a bowl of salad. “My father was unarmed and a sword’s length away from Krueger. So I killed. I split Krueger in half from shoulder to waist for doing his duty by his people.” At last he fell silent.

  What could she say? The enormity of it – that someone she had traveled with for
so long was dead because of Dost. What else could he have done except protect his own father? Wouldn’t she do the same? All people had their flaws, but on the point of death, when there was no time for debate or missteps or trying again...

  “He meant to kill your father. What else could you have done?” Though shocked she found it hard to mourn Krueger. There was...had been a cruel streak in the man.

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t know.”

  “And Dayna?”

  “She was there also. I didn’t see her, but she was captured and is here, somewhere down here in the storerooms.”

  “What? Storerooms? This is a storeroom?” Dayna was alive. If she did nothing else right, perhaps she could help someone who had helped her.

  “Yes. My family generally makes it a rule not to imprison people beneath our winter house.”

  “Uh-huh. Why are there no guards here?”

  “Because they’re afraid. Of me.”

  Afraid? “Wouldn’t that mean more guards, not less?” It didn’t make sense.

  Thollemew Smythe knew she would not be afraid of Dost. So, if not to scare her, why here? It came to her. Sasskia. He had put her in here because he thought Dost might convince her to heal his sister.

  She tapped her fingers on her thigh. “There’s something else you’ve not said, isn’t there? You’ve not told me everything. What happened after?”

  “What do you think happens when Imperial Guards come across a man with a bared, blood-stained sword beside the Imperator? I had my cowl over my head and the bandages. They came running. Came up to me while I looked at my father. Blood flooding the flagstones. Blood on me. Dead...everywhere. They stabbed me and it did nothing. Father stood there, watching, cold-eyed. Said one word, ‘bludvoik.’ So...so they cut off my arms. Told them not to kill me and they knew what that meant, then he walked away. Walked away and left me. It didn’t hurt. I could feel it but it didn’t hurt.” His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. “He walked away.”