Taken

by Benedict Jacka

  Anne reappeared just as we reached the car, carrying a coat over one arm. She walked past us in the darkness and to the Bentley. The window rolled down and I saw her bend down to speak with the driver. The inside of the car lit up as Anne got into the backseat and the engine started with a growl, loud in the empty night. It pulled out of the driveway with a crunch of gravel, lights disappearing behind the hedge.

  The instant it was out of sight I hit the button on the set of keys and pulled open the door of the car next to us. Lights illuminated a set of angled leather seats and a sleek-looking dashboard. As I slotted in the key the car’s onboard electronics started up and the instruments and wheel lit up in pale blue. A gearshift dial rose up out of the centre console and the engine started with a muted purr.

  Variam slid into the seat next to me, looking around incredulously. “This is your car?”

  “I’m in it, aren’t I?” I looked quickly through the futures and typed in a code to deactivate the alarm system, then took off the hand brake and turned the dial to first gear. The Jaguar rolled out smoothly in the direction the other car had gone.

  “Jeez.” Variam sat back in disgust. “You mages love to flash your money, don’t you?”

  “Put on your seatbelt.”

  chapter 10

  I’m only a mediocre driver. I never learnt to do it until I was past twenty, and what with relying on Starbreeze and gate magic so much for travel I haven’t had much practice since then. Luckily my divination magic lets me cheat—when you know exactly what will and won’t make you crash it’s easy not to hit anything. It didn’t make the ride any smoother, though.

  We followed Anne through the winding country lanes, rushing through the darkness. I didn’t turn on my lights, relying on my magic to keep to the lines of the road as well as to keep track of the smudge of light up ahead that was the Bentley. As we headed south, back roads turned into B-roads and then A-roads until we came out onto the great winding length of the M4.

  Once we were on the motorway, tailing Anne’s car became easier. Despite the darkness of the winter evening it wasn’t late, and there were plenty of cars to give us cover. Under the harsh orange glow of the motorway lights I pulled in one car behind the Bentley and held distance. After only a few minutes a green sign flashed by that read Services 1 mile. The Bentley pulled into the left lane and began signalling, and I followed. A red-and-white Little Chef sign flashed by and was gone.

  The services were contained in a single large building surrounded by banks of grass, a petrol station, and a huge car park. Light shone from the windows, the surrounding trees muting the glow and noise from the motorway. By the time I’d parked and turned off the engine, Anne had already left the Bentley and was walking towards the building. I scanned for danger, found nothing, and followed her, Variam trailing behind.

  The inside of the building had the vaguely soulless feel that motorway service stations always seem to have. The floor was linoleum, the lights were too bright, and the shops sold snacks and drinks and travel gear at about three times their actual value. Everything smelt of plastic and disinfectant. “Where is she?” Variam asked.

  I turned left into the cafeteria. It wasn’t packed but it wasn’t empty either, and there were just enough people to give us some cover. Mothers kept a watchful eye over children while truckers drank from mugs of tea. “Hey,” Variam said. “I said—”

  “To your right,” I said, then blocked Variam as he turned to look. “Don’t stare. Buy something and sit down.”

  Variam glowered but didn’t argue. He’d at least had the sense to wrap his sword up in his jacket. I bought something at the counter without paying attention to what it was and found a corner seat shielded by a big plastic children’s area. Only then did I look over.

  Anne was sitting at a table on the far side of the cafeteria. The edge of the services was a huge plate-glass window looking out onto the car park, and Anne’s table was right next to it, bright against the darkness. Sitting opposite Anne was a man with grey-white hair wearing a thick coat with the collar turned up to shield his face. I couldn’t get a good look at him but he was talking to Anne.

  “Who’s she talking to?” Variam said.

  “Apparently his name’s Hobson.” I scanned through the futures but couldn’t see any danger. In every sequence of events the services was filled with nothing but the bustle of travellers.

  “Why are you following Anne?” Variam said.

  “I already told you.”

  “What are you getting out of it?”

  I didn’t bother answering. Anne and Hobson weren’t far away and I could have used my magic to eavesdrop if I focused on it, but I didn’t. Instead I kept my attention on a short-to-medium-range scan, watching for danger. If anything moved to threaten Anne I wanted to know about it.

  We sat for a little while in silence. Around us, people came and went. “Why’d you help her?” Variam asked.

  I didn’t take my eyes off Anne. “When?”

  “Three nights ago. With those men.”

  “What’s your problem with me, Variam?”

  “You’re a mage.”

  “So are you.”

  Variam scowled. “You know what?” I said. “Fine. It’s not like they’re going to be finished any time soon. I’ll tell you why I helped Anne if you tell me how the two of you ended up with Jagadev.”

  Variam was silent. “Fine,” he said at last. “Why’d you help her?”

  “Because she needed it.”

  Variam waited. “And?” he said when I didn’t go on.

  “That’s it.”

  “Bullshit—”

  “What were you expecting me to say?” I said. “Mages can look after themselves; apprentices can’t.”

  Variam looked at me narrowly. “I don’t believe you.”

  At the other side of the cafeteria Anne was still talking to Hobson. She was sitting opposite him, leaning slightly forward with hands clasped, listening attentively. As I watched she took out a pad of paper and started writing, pausing every few seconds to glance up. Hobson seemed to be doing most of the talking, but his hand movements were jerky and at intervals he’d look back over his shoulder. Watching his body language I could tell he was nervous, afraid of something, but there was no danger . . . yet. “Your turn,” I said to Variam. I didn’t take my attention off Anne and Hobson. “You and Anne used to be apprenticed to a Dark mage named Sagash, right?”

  Variam stared at me. “Apprenticed?”

  “Is that true?”

  “Is that—?! I’d rip out my own liver before being apprentice to that bastard. You mages talk so much shit. If you knew—!”

  “Knew what?”

  “You know how we met Sagash?” Variam demanded. “He kidnapped Anne right out of school. Used gate magic to take her away to some huge freaky castle in the middle of nowhere. He wanted her as his apprentice and when she said no he tried to make her.”

  I looked at Variam, keeping quiet. “There was someone who said he could help,” Variam said. “A ‘Light’ mage, or that was what he called himself, guy called Ebber. Know what that little weasel did? He went and talked things over with Sagash and decided it was all just fine. He said we were better off like that!” Variam stared past me. “She was in that place for months.”

  “Did you break her out?” I asked.

  “No,” Variam said reluctantly. He sounded as if he didn’t like to admit it. “She did. But I helped her get away. And we gave that bastard Sagash something to think about before we left.”

  I looked over at Anne. She was writing on the pad, listening carefully to what Hobson said. “What did Ebber do?”

  Variam gave a snort. “Oh, he was pissed. More upset about us running away than he was about Sagash kidnapping her. Would have taken us back if he could.”


  “And that was when Jagadev came to you,” I said. “He offered you protection, told you that as long as you stayed with him mages like Sagash and Ebber wouldn’t bother you. And you convinced Anne.”

  “Yeah, so?” Variam looked at me, challenging. “That’s how it works in your world, right? If you’re not with someone, some mage like you can just pick you off. Well, we’re with him.”

  I met Variam’s gaze. He looked angry and I was pretty sure he wasn’t lying. He might be exaggerating . . . but unfortunately nothing in his story was even the slightest bit hard to believe. Dark mages do press-gang apprentices. They won’t usually touch one under the protection of another mage, but a teenager new to their powers and alone and ignorant of the magical world is easy prey. And once you’re in, leaving is not an option.

  Under Council law, a Light apprentice can’t be forced to take the oaths. But Dark mages have no such laws. And once a Dark mage has got their claws into someone, precious few Light mages are willing to take the risks involved in rescuing them. Much easier to turn a blind eye and smooth things over—it’s not worth risking the peace treaty for one apprentice, is it? And once you’ve gone that far, it’s really not that big an extra step to give the Dark mages a little bit of quiet assistance. After all, contacts on the other side are very useful and if you don’t help them get an apprentice back they’re just going to go to someone else . . .

  It’s easy to hate all Light mages for the actions of a few, and I’ve fallen into that trap myself in the past. But the world’s more complicated than that. “You know,” I said, “just because some mages act like that doesn’t mean they all do.”

  “Right,” Variam said with a sneer. “All the others are bad but you’re the good guy.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Variam shook his head. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like. None of you do.”

  “You might be surprised,” I said mildly.

  “Bullshit. You get invitations to parties, you get guys like Talisid showing up to offer you jobs. You’re part of the club; you don’t know how hard it is for us.”

  I started to answer, then paused. So you know it was Talisid who gave me the job? Interesting. “So why do you think I took the job?”

  “You want the apprentices for yourselves, right? You don’t care what happens to them. You only help them if they’re yours.”

  “You and Anne aren’t mine,” I said.

  “So?”

  “If I only care about apprentices who are mine, what am I doing here?”

  “How should I know?”

  “I’m just trying to make you see the logic here,” I said. “By your reasoning, if I treat you cruelly like Sagash, then that means I’m self-serving and don’t care about you. But if I’m nice and try to help you, then that means I must have some evil hidden purpose which also means I’m self-serving and don’t care about you. Is that about right?”

  Variam just glowered. “Whatever.”

  “They’re going,” I said, looking up.

  Hobson had left the table and was hurrying away. I watched him curiously. Up until I’d arrived at the services I’d been more than half-expecting a trap, if for no other reason than that I remembered very clearly what had happened the last time Anne had been driven somewhere alone in that Bentley. But Hobson’s behaviour didn’t fit with that. Acting scared and nervous, okay—but he’d asked Anne to come to a public place, somewhere that would be crowded even at this late hour. That was the kind of thing you’d do if you were worried about a trap.

  But if Hobson wasn’t involved himself, that meant . . .

  Anne had risen and was just leaving via the services’ front doors. “Come on,” I said to Variam, and walked quickly after her.

  I was halfway there when I felt something shift in the futures ahead. I took one glance at them and broke into a run. The automatic doors slid open in front of me as I ran out into the night.

  Anne was halfway across the car park, a slim shadow against the dark lines of cars, just about to turn down one of the rows. “Anne!” I shouted from behind her.

  Anne stopped, turned. I kept running towards her. I couldn’t see her face, but I knew she was looking at me in surprise. “Alex?”

  “Behind you!” I shouted.

  Anne turned back just as the figure flicked into view behind her. Her eyes went wide and she jumped out of reach as the shape reached out, grasping.

  A second later I slammed into it. The darkness hid the creature’s features; it had the silhouette of a human but was heavier. We both went down and hit the tarmac and I rolled away fast, staying out of reach.

  A second figure stepped out of the darkness right next to Anne, reaching for her neck. I’d seen it coming and aimed a kick from the ground that took out its knee. The second one hit the ground next to the first and I scrambled to my feet, backing away with Anne. “Variam!” I shouted. “They’re constructs, destroy them!”

  Both constructs were rising to their feet and in the futures ahead of us I could see the paths they would take, solid lines of light changing to match our actions but without choice or initiative of their own. One was still locked onto Anne; the other was heading for me. But it took them a few seconds to reach us and Variam got there first.

  Mages of Variam’s type are called fire mages, but that’s not really what they do. Their real power is over heat: generating it, controlling it, moving it. It’s true that most fire mages do use fire in their spells, but that’s as much psychological as anything; fire is what they think of, so that’s what they create. Variam’s approach was a little different. Instead of creating bolts of fire or some kind of flamethrower, he just poured a ton of heat into the area right between the two constructs.

  Fire magic’s not subtle and it’s not great at defence, but for sheer destructive power there’s not much that can beat it. There was a hissing sound and a thump of superheated air, a backwash of heat making me cover my eyes. When I opened them again the constructs were gone. A five-foot circle of tarmac where they’d been standing was steaming, and the corners of two car fenders that had been in the blast were glowing a faint yellow and starting to droop.

  “Where’d they go?” Variam said in surprise.

  “I don’t know.” I looked around. I could see figures in the darkness of the car park but they were too far away, and as I concentrated I saw that they had the branching futures of humans. “I—Anne, move!”

  Anne started and tried to jump away, but this time she wasn’t quick enough. One of the constructs seized her from behind, and a second later the other did the same to me.

  Constructs move, but they aren’t alive—they’re dead things animated by magic, created to fulfil a certain purpose. All constructs are built with a guidance program, and once a construct’s been given a command it’ll keep going until the task’s completed. They’re strong—stronger than any human—but that’s not what makes them so dangerous. A construct can’t feel pain or fear or boredom. They don’t get hurt, they don’t get tired, and most of all they don’t stop. If you get away from one, it’ll just keep coming. The only way to stop a construct is to completely destroy it, either by breaking the spell that animates it or by doing such massive damage to its body that it can’t physically hold together anymore.

  But for all their power, constructs have limits. They can’t draw conclusions, they can’t take initiative, and they can’t use tactics or prediction or deception. You can’t program a construct to outsmart an opponent; you can only make it stronger or tougher or faster.

  The construct that had grabbed me from behind was trying to break my neck, and if I’d given it even the smallest chance it would have succeeded. But it wasn’t the first time I’d had a construct try to kill me and I’ve learnt from painful experience what works and doesn’t. As the construct reached for my neck I twisted to one side, pulling
it off balance and levering its hand away. Someone who knew how to fight would have recognised the move and countered it, but the construct didn’t understand the concept of leverage and just kept trying to pull me in and crush me. I went with the movement and turned it into a throw, slamming the construct to the tarmac. The twisting motion pulled the thing’s grip loose and I jumped back again out of range.

  I felt a surge of magic and looked back at Variam and Anne. The other construct was gone and Variam was standing against Anne with his sword out, staring into the darkness. “Variam!” I snapped.

  Variam looked at me, confused. “I don’t get it. I hit him but—”

  The second construct pulled itself up and went for us again. Variam narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, orange-red light flickering about his upraised hand. A pulse of heat exploded with a hissing thump from the centre of the construct’s chest, hot enough to ignite the air in a flash.

  An instant before the spell hit, the construct vanished and we were alone in the darkness. “What the hell?” Variam said. “I hit him!”

  Anne was looking around, and as she did her eyes widened. “Vari, Alex! It’s over—!”

  I threw one of my condensers to shatter against the tarmac and grabbed Variam and Anne. As the cloud of fog rushed out around us I dragged both of them to one side.

  An instant later the two constructs reappeared in the fog cloud. I couldn’t see them but with my divination I knew where they were. Their futures were static lines of light—without any sign of where we were they were just going to stand there until—

  “Let go!” Variam said angrily.

  “Shh!”

  The lines of light changed direction as both constructs moved, converging on the sound. Their heavy footfalls were audible and Variam tensed and shut up as I pulled him to one side. Anne stayed quiet, trusting me to lead her. The constructs reached the point where the noise had come from, only five feet away—and stopped.

  I kept leading Variam and Anne away and this time Variam thankfully kept his mouth shut. The constructs didn’t move; without sensory input their simple programming couldn’t predict our movements. We came out of the fog cloud into the night, and now that Anne and Variam could see me I put a finger to my lips, ushering them towards the car.