The Mage of Trelian

by Michelle Knudsen

  Estrella considered her for a moment. “You are linked, in the ancient way,” she said finally. “He is not just your pet, this dragon.”

  “Yes,” Meg said. “Does that help you to see? Sending him alone is like sending one part of me but leaving the rest behind. He fought for me when I fell in the war with Lourin, but . . . while he was brave, and wonderful, and magnificent”— and you were, she thought at him firmly —“he was also acting in rage and pain and fear. It turned out all right, more than all right, that time . . . but this feels like a far more delicate situation we’re in now. The goals are not as immediately clear. He needs my guidance.”

  The mage nodded, seeming to understand.

  “Not everyone knows about the link,” Meg added. “I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”

  Estrella smiled. “I suspect that anyone who knows that such a thing is possible will already have put it together for themselves,” she said. “But that is a smaller number than you might imagine. It’s been a long time since there were many dragons, as you know. And longer still since bondings were a well-known practice. But I will not be enlightening any who do not already know. This I promise you, Princess.”

  “Thank you,” Meg said. Then she got to her feet. Putting this off was not going to make it any easier, and she’d rested for as long as she could justify.

  Mage Oren came over then. “If it’s all right with you, Estrella, I’ll take a turn accompanying the princess. Begging your pardon, but I believe I’m stronger in defensive magic, and that seems to be what is most called for now.”

  Estrella turned her smile to him. “No begging of pardons is necessary, Oren. I think your suggestion is a wise one. And I believe a little more rest would not hurt me.”

  Oren looked at Meg, who nodded her agreement. “I’ll be happy to have your assistance, Mage Oren. Thank you.”

  They went back again.

  Meg still had to battle her terror, but somehow now that she’d actually been hit, and survived, again, she found the fear a little easier to manage. Only a little, but she would take what she could get. And Mage Oren was noticeably better than Mage Estrella at keeping the fireballs away. The remaining traitor mages were relentless, though, and while some of Serek’s group were helping to fend off the enemy spells that came at them now, they couldn’t stop them all.

  On her second trip with Oren, Meg was finally starting to feel a little less certain that she was about to be set on fire as soon as she came within range. She could do this, clearly; she was doing it. It was going to be okay. She tried to focus just on being present with Jakl, helping him choose a target and adding her strength and determination to his as he went once more back into the fray. The mages were all waiting for them again, facing them in a line.

  But this time Mage Krelig was facing them, too.

  I suppose he’s finally gotten tired of watching us snatch away his army, one by one, she thought sadly. She’d hoped he’d been suitably distracted by trying to fight all the other mages who were trying to kill him. But while she could see Serek’s mages still apparently casting spells in Krelig’s direction, he seemed content to ignore them for the moment.

  “You have become an annoyance,” he said, and although she knew it was impossible, she could hear his voice perfectly despite the fighting going on all around them.

  He pointed, and Meg tried to brace herself for whatever he was about to do. Not fire, please not fire, she prayed, unable to help it. But whatever it was, it was directed at Oren, not at her. She felt him stiffen behind her, then start to slide backward.

  “Oren!” she screamed. She turned and grabbed for him, seeing as she did so that his eyes had rolled up to show only the whites. She didn’t know what Krelig had done, but clearly Oren was in no position to help defend her now. In fact, if she didn’t get a better grip on him, he was going to go sliding off to his death.

  You’ve practiced this, she thought abruptly. And of course that was true. Exactly this, with the soldiers. You can hold on. You’re strong enough. Or at least stubborn enough. She took a breath and managed a firmer hold on Oren. There was no safety harness this time, though, and he was not just pretending to be unconscious. If he fell, he would die.

  So she was not going to let him fall.

  Jakl, away! Meg sent at him frantically. He changed course, flying straight up, but then abruptly slammed into something. Meg screamed at the impact and nearly let go of Oren. Jakl shook his head, momentarily dazed, falling backward toward the earth. She could feel his pain and confusion, swirling together with her own. He was able to regain control and manage their landing, but it was still rough. She nearly lost Oren a second time as they hit the ground.

  Another barrier, she realized. Like the one the mages had warned her about when they first approached. Krelig must have put it back in place. She looked helplessly down over her shoulder, still trying desperately to hold on to Oren. Even though they were on the ground now, and the fall wouldn’t kill him, landing unconscious and defenseless at the feet of the enemy mages probably would.

  Krelig was looking up at her, a terrible smile on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to tell her exactly how he was going to kill her.

  And then he suddenly staggered forward, nearly falling to the ground.

  Calen stood behind him, arms outstretched.

  Meg was so astounded, she nearly laughed. Despite everything. Had Calen just — just transported himself right up behind the mage and pushed him?

  Krelig’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression of uncontrolled rage that instantly killed Meg’s fleeting moment of amusement. He whirled around.

  “Leave her alone,” Calen said calmly. She could hear him perfectly, too. It must be magic, she realized. She was assaulted by a sudden mental image of Anders waving his fingers in the air and whispering, Magic!, and she had to fight back laughter again. Hysterical laughter. She was losing her mind.

  Focus! she told herself desperately. Not that she could think of anything to do. It was still taking every ounce of her strength to keep hold of Oren. Jakl seemed to have mostly recovered from smashing his head into the barrier, but she bade him stay still. Until she could see how they could help, she thought the best thing would be to be very quiet and not interfere.

  “You wanted me?” Calen continued. “Well, here I am.”

  Krelig straightened. His smile returned. “I will deal with you,” he said. “Right after I kill your friend.”

  “You’ll deal with me now,” Calen said. He wasn’t smiling. Quick as lightning, he raised his hands toward the older man and then suddenly seemed to thrust something forward. Krelig raised his own hands almost lazily, then seemed shocked when the force of whatever Calen had cast at him pushed him back a step. His eyes widened. “How . . . ?”

  Calen didn’t waste time answering. He continued moving his hands, clearly casting spell after spell at Krelig. The mage was forced to remain facing him, to defend himself and retaliate.

  Meg noticed some of the other enemy mages raising their hands toward Calen as well.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” she said under her breath. Jakl, stop them!

  Jakl released a targeted burst of fire that enveloped the mages first on one side, then the other. In that moment, Meg had absolutely no reservations about sending them all up in flames. Most of them seemed able to put themselves out fairly quickly, in any case. But it forced them to pay attention to the dragon, to keep defending themselves. Which she hoped would leave them too busy to send anything against Calen.

  She also hoped that it would keep them too busy to realize that she had no protection other than Jakl’s interference. If they thought to cast something at her now, with Oren still unconscious in her desperate grasp, there would be nothing she could do to stop them.

  THE NEW BARRIER HAD WINKED INTO existence so quickly, none of them had seen it coming. Calen had been too distracted by seeing Meg flying crazily back into danger after she’d been set on fire yet agai
n to notice the colors in time. And then Jakl had crashed into it, and gone tumbling toward the ground. Calen would have transported right then to try to save her if not for Serek’s sudden viselike grip on his arm.

  “Calen, wait!” Serek barked.

  “No! I —”

  “I know. You have to go, I know, but just listen first. Quickly!”

  Calen listened.

  He felt a savage smile stretching across his face as he did.

  Now this was a plan he liked.

  Serek’s explanation had taken only seconds; the man could be incredibly succinct when he wanted to be. And it helped that Serek was linking with Calen at the same time — it was the same way the other teams had joined to cast as one, and it helped Serek to send some of what he was communicating in mental images instead of words, which got the message across even faster.

  And then there was no more time, and Calen jumped, and nearly pushed Krelig right over onto his hateful, evil face.

  He knew the other mages were still a threat, but Calen couldn’t think about them now. All of his attention was on Krelig. Had to be on Krelig. Because this was it: the final battle. Right here. One of them was not going to survive this. Calen just had to make sure that Krelig was the one who died. And he had to start it before Krelig had a chance to hurt Meg.

  He talked just long enough to give as many of the others as possible a chance to join in with Serek back on the castle wall. And then he stopped talking and started casting. With everything he had.

  And everything Serek and the others had, too.

  Krelig clearly hadn’t been expecting that. He’d probably never participated in a voluntary joining of this kind in his entire life. It required relinquishing all your power to someone else, letting that person use your ability as though it were his own. Calen felt sure that Krelig would never consider doing such a thing himself. And none of the traitor mages would ever be able to surrender their power to Krelig. They feared him, and maybe some of them even respected him, but none of them could ever trust him. He’d had them practice casting together, adding their magic to support another’s shield, or lend strength to an attack, but those were isolated moments of joining your energy to another’s. This was different. Serek and the other mages up along the battlements had all lent Calen their full strength and energy, to direct as he saw fit. Normally there might not be so much advantage to that — it concentrated all your power in one place, but it also gave your enemy only one target to focus on. If Krelig killed Calen, the others wouldn’t necessarily die, but they’d certainly be damaged, and at best would need some time before they’d be able to cast anything else themselves.

  It would really probably be a very stupid plan under any other circumstances. Which is why Krelig hadn’t seen it coming. Because it didn’t make any sense.

  Except that Calen could see the colors early.

  Which meant that he could counter everything Krelig sent at him. But that alone wouldn’t be enough on his own, because he wouldn’t have the strength to hold out for very long. Calen was strong, stronger by far than any of the other mages on either side — but not stronger than Krelig himself.

  But now — now Calen had all the strength he needed. Or at least, all the strength available. He just had to hope it was enough.

  He was vaguely aware of fire and heat nearby and suspected that Jakl was doing some fighting of his own. But he put it out of his mind. He trusted Meg to take care of herself, now that he had Krelig occupied. His only job was to focus on what he was doing.

  So he did.

  Krelig was attacking more fiercely than ever before. He might have been drawing things out earlier, wanting to make the others hurt, wanting to wear them down with fear and exhaustion until he could destroy them at his leisure, possibly after making a long speech about how superior he was to the rest of them and how they would all suffer horribly before they died. But since that first powerful spell Calen had sent at him, Krelig had been done playing. And despite his new strength and power, Calen was still shocked at how strong Krelig was. He thought maybe, maybe they were about evenly matched now — but that was with Calen having the combined power of eighty mages. Krelig was that strong all on his own.

  And he knew a lot more magic.

  Calen didn’t recognize more than a fraction of the spells that Krelig threw at him. There wasn’t time to try to analyze or sort out anything. He just watched the colors. In those few early seconds before Krelig released his spells, Calen had just enough time to be ready with a defense. And sometimes enough time to cast something back, although now that Krelig was on his guard, it was even harder to get anything through. Krelig might not be able to see what Calen was casting, but he had years of experience in sensing magic energy, and Calen’s knowledge, despite how much he’d learned in the past few months, was nothing compared to that.

  But it shouldn’t matter. Not if the rest of Serek’s plan worked as they’d hoped.

  Calen realized he was letting his mind wander and made himself stop. Focus, gods curse you!

  He focused.

  Blue to counter red, black to counter white, a million different combinations of subtle shades of energy in all the different colors that existed. Calen let his instincts guide him. Krelig seemed tireless, but he didn’t look happy.

  “Not possible,” he said. “You can’t . . .” He paused, then crafted something more slowly. And more sinister. Threads of red and black and deep violet, twining together in dark and evil knots of pain and fire and destruction. Calen watched, waiting, as Krelig fed more and more energy into his spell, mentally preparing his counterspell in response.

  And when it came, he was ready.

  The force of it still made him stagger backward, but he blocked it all the same, and sent tendrils of his counterspell into the energy Krelig had sent, pulling the hostile magic into harmless strands. Krelig couldn’t see it the way Calen could, but he could certainly sense it. He screamed, enraged.

  “How? How are you doing that? Tell me!” He strode toward Calen, perhaps to try to shake it out of him through entirely nonmagical means. Calen backed up, casting as he went. Krelig raised one hand, then the other, absently pushing Calen’s spells aside, but Calen thought the mage was having to use just a little more effort to do so now.

  As for himself, Calen had never felt this strong in his life.

  And oh, gods, how he liked it.

  “What’s wrong, Master? Did you teach me too well?”

  He sent a version of that face-melting spell, one he’d crafted in his mind the night of his return. There was a stream of deep red-orange energy at the center of it that was the exactly the same shade as Helena’s hair.

  Calen thrust it forward as hard as he could, and in several parts, so Krelig couldn’t just bat it out of the air, but the mage still had a shield in place, and the spell shattered harmlessly against it. Krelig grunted, clearly having felt the force of that, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to move toward Calen.

  “I didn’t teach you this,” Krelig growled. “This is something else. I know the other mages are helping you, making you stronger . . . but still, you should not be able to . . .”

  He started his next spell without moving his hands, giving no outward sign, but of course Calen could still see the colors, and still early enough to be ready.

  He countered, again and again, until Krelig stopped moving. He stood there, eyes burning with fury. “You cannot be this fast! How are you doing it?”

  “You’ll never know,” Calen said. He grinned at the older man. “How does that feel? Win or lose, if you die here today or if you finally manage to create something I can’t block and kill me where I stand, you will never, never know. The universe has secrets even from you, it would seem. Do you hate that? Do you hate not knowing?”

  “You will tell me,” Krelig grated, beginning to cast again. He put everything into it now, Calen could see it, the colors blazing more fiercely than ever, the force of the spells knocking him backward e
ven though he continued to block them in time. Krelig had released his shield, taking even the energy he’d kept in reserve for that to pour into what he was sending at Calen, faster and faster. “Tell me! Tell me!” He was screaming now, completely out of control. He sent one more blast that threw Calen abruptly and painfully onto his back, then ran over to stand above him.

  “I will kill you,” Krelig said in that terrifying calm voice that had always been the scariest one of all. His expression, too, was calm, but his eyes were insane with rage and confusion. “But not before you tell me your secret.” He stood there, red-violet energy gathering between his palms, breathing hard, seemingly not aware of anything else but Calen lying at his feet. He started another spell but then kicked Calen hard in the ribs with his boot. Calen hadn’t seen that coming. He curled up in pain, and then screamed in agony as Krelig sent a fiery bolt of red magic through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground with what felt like a white-hot iron spike.

  “Taunt me now,” Krelig said softly. “Tell me again how I will die not knowing.” More red energy gathered, another molten spike in the making, and Calen saw it but forced himself not to prepare. Instead he met Mage Krelig’s bright and crazy eyes squarely, glaring at him despite the pain. When the second spike hit, pinning his other shoulder, Calen screamed again, but still didn’t try to fight back.

  “You will die,” Calen managed, when he could make himself stop screaming, “not knowing, you miserable, crazy, gods-cursed thing.” He felt hot blood in his mouth; he must have bitten his tongue at some point after he fell. He spat to the side, but kept his eyes on Krelig’s. “My secret. Mine. And you will never know what it is.”

  Krelig raised his hands again, and this time, Calen thought, he probably wouldn’t be able to hold back. He wanted to kill Calen so badly, the desire practically shone from him like rays of the sun. Or was that just the magic energy gathering around him as he prepared to strike? Calen realized that his head was going a little fuzzy from the pain. That wasn’t good. He had to focus; he had to stay present. . . .