by DB King
He managed to sit up. Marcus no longer stood at the bottom of the stairs—just as he hoped, the boy had fled. Gods bless him, Alec thought. I hope he doesn’t beat himself up for being a coward. It was the sensible thing to do…
Two figures descended the stairs, casting a brilliant light with their presence.
One of them was familiar to Alec. But the second was a man he’d never seen before.
Chapter 6
Master Abel wiped his mouth with the back of his fist, his retching finally ceased. “Good gods!” the man grunted, his face pale as he surveyed the carnage surrounding him. “Oh, I think I’m going to be sick again!”
Alec didn’t blame Master Abel one bit. Though he’d had his share of fantasies about revenge on the too-strict monk, the sight of him trembling before the entrail-covered walls filled him with nothing but sympathy. Had Alec had his wits about him, he’d probably have been retching up lunch as well.
As Abel went down on his hands and knees, panting against the stone, the second man strode forward. He glowed with the same pale light as Tanuin’s dagger, turning the dank Crypt into a well-lit chamber by sheer force of will. Though he stood in filth, his robes were soft and fine, the sort of clothes Alec associated with nobility and the men who came to visit Master Matthias on occasion. His face held the sharp angles and bold lines of a statue, yet there was a gentle smile beneath his kind, wise eyes. A short-cropped beard hung beneath his chin, mostly white with a few patches of gray.
“Well, that was a little more gruesome than I intended,” the man said, extending a hand to Alec. “My apologies, young man. Though I doubt you’ll hold it against me—another few moments and the hag would have torn you to pieces.”
Alec took the man’s hand and rose. His palm felt blessedly cool after the poisonous warmth of the hag’s bite. “Thank you,” he managed, finding speech difficult. “Marcus, is he…?”
The man glanced back at the stairwell. “Is Marcus the other boy who was down here with you?”
Alec nodded. Just the motion made his vision swim. He swayed unsteadily on his feet. “I followed him down into the Crypt. There’s danger down here.”
The man laughed loud and long. “I’ll say! Though it’s certainly a safer place now. That hag must have been down here a good while without a bite to eat, for her to be bold enough to attack two wards of the Archon Temple. Hunger makes creatures of the Shadow Realm do strange things.” He glanced derisively at a chunk of gore on the wall. “She was only a few moments away from satisfying those hungers, it seems—in the most gruesome way possible. You were both lucky to still be in the shadow of the Temple.”
Relief flooded Alec. “He’s okay,” he said, slumping against the newcomer. “I was so worried.”
The man tensed, then his hand pulled back the sleeve of Alec’s robe. The spot where the hag had bitten him had not quite healed, and something black pulsed beneath the surface of the bite. As Alec stared at the wound, he fancied he could see tiny black veins spreading inside the meat of his shoulder. Like a spider’s web, he thought, the idea bringing a wave of heated delirium.
“That looks rather bad,” the man said, a touch of worry in his ancient eyes. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen this particular poison, young man. You must have done something to greatly anger that hag.”
Alec’s fingers grazed the wound. “It’s getting worse,” he said, sweat trickling down his forehead. “It’s...it’s hot…”
“I’ve got you,” the man said. He lowered Alec to a sitting position on the stones, doing something with his fingers. “Don’t worry about a thing. Tell me, though—how did you defend the boy from the hag? I see the dagger lying there next to you. Fine elven work, but far from sufficient to stop a creature of her power.”
“My...my insides,” Alec said, staring at the ceiling. Light poured from the man’s fingers. At first, the pain increased, then it went all tingly like it had the first time. “I did something. I burned my insides.” He gestured weakly at the snuffed out torches. “Absorbed the fire.”
The man harrumphed. If the prospect of getting his fine robes dirty helping Alec bothered him, he didn’t show it. “Absorbed the fire, eh? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of that happening before. But we live in interesting times, it’s true. No, don’t get up—the healing isn’t quite finished. This is quite a pernicious little bite. Would’ve spread through your entire body in time. Turned you into a creature much like the one you just fought.”
The idea filled Alec with panic. “Like her?”
“Shhh,” the man said, his mustache bristling as he smiled. “That won’t happen. Just relax. I’m almost done.”
A sense of peace spread over Alec. The light soothed more than just the wound in his shoulder—though just that would have been enough for him to jump up and cheer. The horrible feeling of his insides being burnt began to fade, like the last remnants of a nightmare. By the time the man’s fingers retreated from his shoulder, Alec felt well enough to take the children for a hike in the woods all over again.
“That’s much better,” the man said, glancing back at Master Abel.
The wizened monk had finished retching, and was busy rinsing his mouth out with water from a bag tied to his belt.
The bearded man looked back at Alec, dropping his voice so that only the two of them could hear. “Now that that’s all out of the way, tell me—was it you or the other boy who did the magic?”
Magic? The word reached Alec’s ears, but refused to sink into his brain. “Sir, I don’t know what you mean! I don’t know anything about magic!”
“Magic?” Abel spit a mouthful of water onto the stones, making his way over on unsteady feet. “What are you talking about, Master Diamondspear?”
Alec gasped. “Diamondspear!? Uriel Diamondspear!?”
The man seemed tickled that Alec hadn’t recognized him. “Why, of course,” he said, smiling kindly. “Who else do you think would have felt that hag using her power and come here to destroy it?”
Archmage Uriel Diamondspear. One of the most powerful magic users in the world—some would say the most powerful—stood before him. He’d saved him and Marcus from the hag.
It was a struggle not to laugh. Master Abel had sent him and the other boys into the forest to keep them away from Archmage Diamondspear. And now he was here!
“I felt the aura of magic before entering the Crypt,” Archmage Diamondspear said, looking mildly at Master Abel.
Abel’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “It must have been something the hag did just as you arrived,” he protested. “Or an old ward placed here for protection years ago. Neither of these boys are noble-born. And besides, where would they have gotten a tome from which to learn spells?”
Archmage Diamondspear shrugged off the question. “The other boy, the one who fled while Alec fought the hag. Bring him down here, please.”
Alec had never seen Master Abel take orders from anyone before. He’d expected to take some pleasure in it, but the overall effect was so surreal he found himself wishing he’d never see it again. As the wizened man ascended the stairs, calling out for Marcus, Alec’s thoughts swam.
Had he truly used magic? What could that possibly mean? He wasn’t sure what he’d done while facing down the hag, exactly—only that he’d felt something inside of himself, some potential. When Marcus’s life had been threatened, that power coursed through him, filling him with knowledge he’d never dared reach for. But magic?
It can’t be, Alec told himself. I’m not noble-born! If I was, I’d be a ward of one of the houses of nobility—even if my parents had died, they wouldn’t let me wind up in a place like the Archon Temple. Would they?
Such a thing seemed unlikely, but perhaps it was in the realm of possibility. What wasn’t in the realm of possibility, however, was Alec ever having read one of the grimoires necessary to allow him to cast a spell. The noble houses guarded their spellbooks with even more vigilance than they did their heirs—the next leader of the ho
use could be replaced, but the books never could. They were gifts directly from the Archon, and Alec had about as much chance of reading one as he did saving a princess from a dragon.
Or meeting Archmage Diamondspear, he thought ruefully, glancing up at the man. He stood just to the side, watching the stairs with his arms crossed over his chest. I hope I’m not in any trouble for what I did.
Master Abel escorted Marcus back down the stairs. The youth looked like he’d rather have had his teeth pulled than come back down into the Crypt, but Master Abel’s hand at his lower back kept him walking. When he saw the gore coating the walls, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
“It’s dead!” Marcus said, his eyes wide with awe. “You killed it—you killed it with magic!”
Archmage Diamondspear smiled, but this time the smile did not reach his eyes. “Young man,” he said in a booming voice quite unlike the kindly one he’d used with Alec, “did you awaken this creature?”
Marcus had been in trouble enough times to recognize that tone. He looked around like a rat caught in a trap, his mind coming up with a dozen explanations before his shoulders finally slumped.
“Yeah, it was me,” he finally admitted. “I came down into the Crypt. I never should have done it! Alec warned me not to. But I thought there’d be something cool down here—not a monster! And I didn’t know she was a monster at first, she was so pretty! Then she took me in my arms, and I started to cry, and then...then…”
A tender expression filled Archmage Diamondspear’s face. “You’ve been through quite a lot today,” the man said, consoling the child. “Take him back upstairs, Abel. This young man needs a rest. I’ll discuss the rest of what happened with the other one.”
A look like none Alec had ever seen filled Abel’s face. For the first time in his young life, the monk looked afraid for him. “Master Diamondspear,” he wheezed, “perhaps—”
“Leave us,” Archmage Diamondspear said, in a tone that brooked no discussion.
Reluctantly, Abel withdrew. He took Marcus with him, giving Alec a final pained look that almost certainly meant be careful. His foot dragged behind him as he limped his way back up the stairs, the younger boy in tow.
Once they were gone, Archmage Diamondspear crouched low. He brought his face close to Alec’s, making a show of inspecting him. Finally, he spoke.
“Well, lad,” the aged mage said. The corners of his eyes crinkled with something akin to mirth. “It seems you’ve done a very good job of hiding yourself.”
“Hiding?” Despite the fact that Alec knew this man to be perfectly capable of ripping him limb from limb with magic, the statement filled him with a surge of irritation. “I’m not hiding. I’ve been here all my life!”
Archmage Diamondspear laughed. “Touché. So you have. The fault is mine, young man—I’ve been looking for you for a damned long time. I didn’t know your name, or what you looked like, which made it harder. I have to say, the last place I would have expected to find you was within the grounds of the Archon Temple of Graysten. But fate, it seems, is not without its small ironies.”
“I don’t...I don’t understand,” Alec muttered. He really didn’t.
“No matter. As soon as I felt the magic stirring within the Crypt, I knew. Call it a hunch.”
Icicles filled Alec’s stomach. “You felt the hag.”
Archmage Diamondspear laughed. He rose to his full height, and Alec got a glimpse of what the Shadow Realm must have stared down on the battlefield. Fear filled him like a strong drink.
“No, lad,” Archmage Diamondspear said, shaking his head. “I sensed you.”
Alec’s heart skipped a beat. “Me?”
Another of those kindly smiles split the man’s fearsome visage. “I am Archmage Uriel Diamondspear,” he said, his words so deep they shook the foundations of the Crypt. “Prime Elementalist—Master of Fire, Wind, and Metal. Keeper of the Library of Malvon, Slayer of Dorcas the Unvanquished, Master of the House of Doors, Lord of...well, of a number of duchies I don’t have the opportunity to visit terribly often.” He chuckled low in his throat. “So yes, child. I sensed you—and your magic. Now tell me what truly matters, young man. Who are you?”
Alec sensed the question was far more than the simple one it appeared. Despite how he might rack his brain, he had only one answer.
“I’m Alec,” he said with a shrug.
Archmage Diamondspear made a ‘hurry up’ motion with his hand, as if he was waiting for him.
Gods, Alec thought, does he want me to make up titles for myself, too?
“...Ward of the Archon Temple of Graysten?” Alec said haltingly.
“Wrong.” Archmage Diamondspear said, taking pleasure in it. “You are Alec, Apprentice to the Archmage Uriel Diamondspear.” He folded his hands into his robes, taking a step backward like a man anointing a new sailing vessel. “Come back to the Archon Temple and gather your things. You’re already far too old to be new at learning the ways of magic, so we have quite a lot of catching up to do.”
Chapter 7
The entire trip back to the Archon Temple, the words echoed in Alec’s skull. Apprentice to the Archmage Uriel Diamondspear.
By the time the group of boys—now with a monk and an archmage to chaperone—reached the gates of the Archon Temple, dusk had just begun to fall. The sun dipped low on the horizon, the calls of daytime birds fading into the hooting of owls and the chirping of crickets. A chill hung in the air, despite the warmth of the Sunday morning and afternoon. Alec tasted rain on the wind.
“We are in so much trouble,” Marcus muttered as they approached the gate.
Normally at the end of a forest trip, a solitary guard greeted them on their entrance back into the Temple. Perhaps two or three playing cards, if there wasn’t a lot going on inside.
It looked as if every monk and servant in the Temple had come out onto the green. Dozens of people waited nervously at the gates, some of them with angry expressions on their faces. Whatever sense of calm and normalcy Master Matthias had wanted to project with this visit had been totally destroyed. Alec felt ice form in the pit of his stomach.
Master Matthias himself broke from the crowd. The Head Monk of the Archon Temple of Graysten walked with a thick cane, carrying himself with surety despite his advanced age. Two scribes attended him as he crossed the short distance to Archmage Diamondspear, locking eyes with him. Alec fancied a spark passed between them, as if the two had just passed some hidden knowledge from one man to another by way of a secret signal.
“Are all accounted for?” Master Matthias asked, the crowd falling silent behind him.
Archmage Diamondspear jostled Alec with an elbow. “Go on, boy. He asked you a question. Explain.”
Me? The thought of speaking in front of all those people made Alec squirm. However, after the events of the day, it didn’t fill him with quite as much fear as it might once have.
“Everyone’s alright, Master Matthias,” Alec said, bowing to the Head Monk. “Marcus disappeared during the forest trip. We followed him to the Crypt, but he had already gone inside. A fearsome creature had him, but Master Diamondspear saved us. Marcus and me, I mean.”
Master Matthias listened to all of this impassively. A sunbeam cut through the trees, landing directly on his bald head.
One of the monks who’d been listening stepped forward. Alec didn’t remember the man’s name, for he had only been sent to the Temple a week ago, but his appearance gave Alec a vague sense of foreboding. He remembered this man disciplining a younger boy on shoddy evidence.
His suspicion proved correct a moment later. “You nearly got your wards killed!” the monk snapped, gesturing angrily. “Masters Matthias and Abel trusted you to keep those brats safe for a single day, and not only do you lose them immediately, you ruin Archmage Diamondspear’s visit!”
“It’s not Alec’s fault!” Marcus stood up straighter, taking his lumps like a man. “I ran off while he was telling a story! He thought I just had to go to the bathroom—”
“You be quiet!” the angry monk roared.
“Do not speak to him like that,” Archmage Diamondspear said.
He’d spoken the words with no more heat than a casual comment about the weather—yet the monk fell instantly silent, his cheeks coloring. So did everyone else.
“Alec’s actions saved Marcus—and may very well have saved the entire group,” Archmage Diamondspear explained. “That hag would not have been satisfied with only two boys, not with another dozen a stone’s throw away. He acted bravely, and well.” Alec felt Diamondspear’s arm around his shoulder. “As is to be expected, of course. The boy is a burgeoning mage—and my kin, at that.”
Alec stared into a field of shocked expressions. Only Master Matthias, whom Alec was even more sure had received some signal from Archmage Diamondspear, remained calm and impassive.
“That’s impossible,” the angry monk protested. “Alec!? He’s a lowborn orphan! His parents were probably gutter trash!”
“Did you,” Archmage Diamondspear asked mildly, “just call the house of Diamondspear ‘gutter trash’?”
The man started as if he’d choked on a fish bone. “Archmage,” he said, sinking to one knee with a tremble, “I did not mean to insult you! I only meant—”
“I know what you meant,” Archmage Diamondspear snapped. “To speak with Alec was one reason I came to the Archon Temple this afternoon. In that sense, it’s fortuitous all this occurred, as certain members of the Temple would have preferred I never be in the same room with these boys.”
That had to mean Master Abel. Alec should have been grinning from ear-to-ear, but all he could think was: me? Kin to Archmage Diamondspear? It couldn’t be!
“I have recently learned,” Archmage Diamondspear said, raising his voice above the crowd’s shocked murmurs, “the details of Alec’s true parentage. The boy is, in fact, the son of my late sister, Esmerelda. A bastard child, which is why the facts surrounding his birth took so long to come to light.”
