The Mage Heir

by Kathryn Sommerlot

  Alesh looked to Yudai, and then Leil followed suit, and the quiet that descended on the room was eerie and heavy. It almost felt like the incense-hallucination all over again, only it was a lull balanced on the edge of the basin outside, teetering and ready to fall, dislodging them all from the footing they’d thought they had.

  Yudai closed his eyes, mouth parting in a shallow exhale, and when his eyes opened once more, the vulnerability there was gone. “What do you require in payment if you help me?”

  Hysus’ eyebrows raised. “I ask for nothing, prince, but for the relief of knowing that the siphon’s wrath will be contained and controlled from the world.”

  “No one asks for nothing. There has to be something; you owe me no loyalty.”

  “Do not presume that we do not honor foreign royalty’s claims,” Hysus said. “Even if you were not bloodbound to the crown, actions taken for the good of the world benefit us all.”

  Yudai nodded once, curt and short. “Then I’ll do it. Get your mages ready.”

  “We will prepare for the reversal tomorrow,” Hysus said, “and my mages will show you to the guest quarters. I suggest that you get a good night’s sleep. Your body will need all the strength it has left to survive the ordeal.”

  Tatsu got the feeling that the ruins didn’t see too many visitors by the layer of dust that seemed to coat each of the rooms they were led to. Each was narrow, with a single slit of a window facing the outside and a heavy wooden door connecting to the hall, and they were functional and comfortable despite their rarely touched nature. The weariness in Tatsu’s bones seemed to hit all at once as he took in the sight of wooden-framed bed, and he longed to collapse into it and fight away his gnawing fear.

  Once they were all deposited in their rooms, several robed mages brought up simple dinners of soup, a flat, starchy bread, and ale, and Tatsu picked at it while wishing his appetite would return. The next group of mages brought in lukewarm water for the metal path bins, which Tatsu thought might have been a subtle hint to the state of their group after days in the sand. He washed his hair three times in his efforts to get all the sandy grime out, and his skin remained scrubbed pink for a long time afterwards.

  As the sun set outside his window, the sky turned a brilliant display of reds and oranges, and Tatsu sat on the bed beneath his window flexing and unflexing the fingers on his bad hand as best he could.

  If he thought too hard about what was going to happen the next morning, his lungs threatened to stop working, but lingering in the dusk glow, slowly fading into purple and blue, he found himself unable to focus on anything else.

  A knock on the wooden door startled him, and when it opened without receiving an answer, he knew who it was.

  “You’re not sleeping,” Yudai said. Once he was inside the room, he leaned back against the door to shut it, the iron of the latch clicking behind his back.

  “I don’t know if I will,” Tatsu replied. “Why are you awake?”

  “It might be my last night,” Yudai said, but both his tone and smile were forced. “I’m not sure I want to spend it alone.”

  He let go of the door handle and took one step into the room, and then his fingers began to knot together in front of him, a nervous habit he didn’t display often.

  “Coming here was my choice, you know,” Yudai said, and his gaze lifted to the ceiling, to the stones above their heads. “I wanted answers.”

  When he didn’t seem ready to continue, Tatsu prompted, “And now?”

  “I wasn’t raised to do this.” The hushed words sounded like they caught in his throat. “I was raised to believe I was the one holding all the answers and all the power. I wasn’t supposed to need anyone else.”

  “It’s not a weakness,” Tatsu said. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  Yudai stared at him across the space, mouth pursed, and then shook his head as he bit down on his bottom lip, puckering the flesh. “Tell me what to do.”

  “I told you, it’s your decision.”

  “Please,” Yudai said, and there was none of the fortitude displayed earlier in his tone. He was wrecked, panicked, and desperate, and the high-pitched lilt at the end of the word threatened to be Tatsu’s undoing as his heart stammered out a empathic staccato beat. “Please, Tatsu—tell me what I should do.”

  “I can’t,” Tatsu told him. His own tone cracked at the end, useless, betraying everything he was only barely keeping inside. “I don’t know what to do or what’s the right answer. I’m terrified that I’m going to watch you… I can’t do this. I can’t watch that. I can’t tell you what to do because I don’t know what to do.”

  Yudai’s face crumpled as he fell forward, catching himself on the doorframe, but only just.

  “I don’t want to die,” he whispered, and when he heaved a breath a moment later, it hitched with the constrained sob. “Tatsu, I don’t want to die.”

  Tatsu didn’t know which of them moved first, but he was crossing the room before he willed himself to do so. They met somewhere in the middle and Tatsu’s mind went blank. He wasn’t thinking or planning when he reached for Yudai to pull him in; he was just feeling, aching with a kind of terror he’d never felt before and trembling with the implications of what the morning would bring. The only thing he could see was Yudai, the bossy, spoiled, beautiful person who was putting his life on the line to stop the siphon he’d never wanted, and Tatsu worried that his ribs were no longer strong enough to keep his heart encaged.

  His aim was terrible when he leaned down, and their teeth clanked together with a pang that rippled through his jaw. But then Yudai made a sound that was half-sob, half-gasp, and Tatsu pressed their mouths together to kiss him with everything he had inside.

  Yudai’s hands tangled in his hair, tugging with a needy, still desperate frenzy. Tatsu wrapped his good arm around Yudai’s form to get him closer, tug him nearer, as if he could eliminate all the space between their bodies. Gods, he was drowning. It was moments that felt like the span of a lifetime. Yudai’s mouth opened beneath his to suck in a breath, and Tatsu took the opportunity to delve inside, reaching up to cup Yudai’s face with one hand. He didn’t know why he’d fought it for so long—against his skin, Yudai felt like he belonged, like he was always meant to be there.

  Tatsu flipped them back against the wall as one of Yudai’s legs curled around his thighs. He couldn’t decipher which way was up or down, because Yudai kissed just like he lived. He demanded more, commanded control, and asserted his authority.

  Then he felt the tug of Yudai’s magic against his lips, pulling the very life from him, and Tatsu stumbled back with so much strength he nearly fell.

  He pressed two fingers to his lips—the tingling aftermath of the siphon’s hunger.

  “It’s okay,” he stammered, mostly in response to the crushed expression on Yudai’s face. “I’m okay.”

  “Tatsu, I…” Yudai’s chest heaved as he trailed off. His mouth was already red and swollen, and his hair was a mess that stuck out at the sides, but Tatsu had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted Yudai in that moment. Something—the situation or Tatsu himself—hardened Yudai’s features, and Tatsu watched him run his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m going to live tomorrow. I’m going to live through this.”

  It seemed more of a promise than a declaration, and Tatsu moved forward to gather Yudai in a tight embrace with his good arm. Yudai melted against his chest.

  “I need you,” Yudai said, muffled against Tatsu’s shoulder. His fingers clutched at the back of Tatsu’s shirt, the only lifeline he seemed to have left. “Tatsu—”

  “I’ll be there, through everything.”

  He wondered if Yudai could feel Tatsu’s heart hammering against his chest and the hollow howl of the rest of the pledge, left unspoken: even if it means I have to watch you die.

  Tatsu woke the next morning to somewhat impatient knocking against his door, but it took too long for him to orient himself again in the midst of his fuzzy, post-dream thoughts.


  “Tatsu?” Alesh’s voice called from behind the wood. “Are you awake?”

  “No,” Tatsu said and only belatedly worried that it wasn’t loud enough for her to pick up.

  There was a pause, and then Alesh’s voice dropped lower. “Is Yudai with you?”

  Tatsu looked down to Yudai’s mussed head, tucked against his shoulder. Yudai’s weight was on his bad arm, and Tatsu was grateful that he could feel the pinpricks of numbness from the angle, even if the sensation was uncomfortable.

  “Yes. Give us ten minutes?”

  Alesh mumbled something Tatsu couldn’t catch, and then her footsteps moved away from the door. Yudai lifted his head to look up at Tatsu with bleary eyes.

  “Did you sleep much?” Tatsu asked.

  “More than I expected,” Yudai said. “I didn’t think I’d be able to relax enough.”

  Tatsu wanted to say something encouraging, but there was a heavy stone in his gut. Yudai shifted a bit, curling in closer, and he put his cheek down against Tatsu’s chest again.

  “I wondered last night if I was making the right choice,” he said, soft and somewhat muffled against Tatsu’s shirt. “But I can’t go through life without control over this thing inside me, not being able to… well. I can’t go through life like that. Even if it kills me.”

  “I know,” Tatsu replied. The lump in his throat made it difficult to swallow.

  Yudai’s fingers curled around the shirt fabric. “I used to wish for death when I was in Runon under Nota’s control. I used to pray that it would come for me, and when you first showed up to steal me away, I thought it finally had. I welcomed it.”

  Tatsu didn’t know what to say, but he reached over with his good arm and threaded his fingers through the feather-light strands of Yudai’s hair.

  “I’m not ready for it now,” Yudai whispered. “I thought I was, but the truth is, I’m terrified.”

  “Yudai, I—”

  “Don’t.” Yudai pushed himself up onto one elbow. “Don’t say goodbye. I don’t think I can handle it.”

  But Tatsu knew if he never got another chance, he’d regret all the words that died on the tip of his tongue. “I don’t regret—”

  “No,” Yudai cut him off, bolting upright completely. “I’m serious, Tatsu, don’t. I won’t be able to go through with it if you say… “

  He didn’t finish, and something inside Tatsu’s chest wished he would, fire pulsing through his veins.

  “Please don’t make this harder than it already is,” Yudai finished.

  Tatsu sat up and pulled Yudai in to touch their foreheads together—the closest he dared to get while the siphon was still there, lying in wait beneath Yudai’s emotions. He curled his fingers around the back of Yudai’s neck.

  “I won’t say anything,” Tatsu said.

  “Thank you.” It was barely more than a sigh, and Yudai’s eyelids fluttered closed. “For everything.”

  Tatsu tightened his fingers and, somehow, against all the nerves in his body trembling not to break the moment, said, “We should go; the others are waiting.”

  Hysus and the others were waiting for them as they made their way down to the small receiving chamber just off the expansive entrance hall. The other Joesarian mages were there with them, clothed in layers of loose fabric that floated with every breeze around the angles of their bodies, giving them all a distinctly ethereal image. Had anyone else been present to appreciate it, Tatsu would have thought it impressive, but with the aching in his gut, the effect was just another piece to the puzzle that might undo his world.

  “Have you changed your mind?” Hysus asked Yudai, when they stopped near the middle of the room.

  “No,” Yudai replied. His voice was steady enough, but his hands at his sides curled into tight fists and trembled.

  Hysus’s eyes took in the tremors, but he didn’t comment on them. He folded his own hands in front of him, lacing his fingers together, and his white linens made a striking contrast against the dark brown of his skin.

  “Then I ask you to follow me,” he said, “for we have prepared for the process.”

  Tatsu was glad they were not offered any further food—his stomach wouldn’t have been able to handle breakfast on top of everything else. They followed Hysus to the end of the receiving hall and from there through a narrow set of staircases that seemed to go on forever. By the time they reached the hollowed caverns at the bottom, the air was much cooler, a far cry from the unrelenting heat of the desert. The basin’s howling winds echoed around them, amplified by the rocks, and Tatsu could hear the slow dripping of water as they made their way through the tunnel by ducking beneath low-hanging bits of stone.

  Only a minute or two later, the cavern opened up into a wide, sprawling underground cave. Tatsu could smell the fresh water before he could hear the steady twinkling of it. Two outlets, like waterfalls against the dark walls, emptied down into a large pool carved from the rock itself with the bluest, clearest water Tatsu had ever seen. There were no openings to allow for natural light, and the lanterns set up around the perimeter of the cavern were weathered enough to have oxidized in the bubble of underground moisture.

  The impact of the scene appeared to hit them at the same time as they were all very quiet, overcome by the bright blue of the pool contrasting with the oranges of the rock-clay walls and the high ceiling reaching down with erratic columns of dripstone.

  “An underground spring,” Leil murmured.

  “Created by the depths of the basin itself,” Hysus said, and there was a slight echo as his voice bounced across the stone.

  The sight was more beautiful than almost anything else Tatsu had seen in Joesar—but his mind was functioning too slowly to connect the pieces laid out in front of him. He failed to grasp the significance of the location choice until Yudai shifted and turned to Hysus.

  “Water,” he said, voice flat. “You’re going to put me in water.”

  “The only thing that contains no living energy for the siphon to devour,” Hysus agreed.

  Yudai opened his mouth like he was going to continue, and no sound came out.

  “You’re going to drown him,” Alesh said, very soft.

  “The only way to trigger a similar effect with the siphon is to subject the prince to the same extreme that begat its creation in the first place.”

  Tatsu’s chest ached.

  “Walk me through it,” Yudai ordered.

  “We will prepare your body for the ritual, and one of my mages will then hold you beneath the water,” Hysus said. “As your body begins to panic, it will undoubtedly trigger the siphon’s desperate grasp. The drain will search once again for something to keep you alive. With the water surrounding you, the energy will be drawn to a single place.”

  “The person holding me down.”

  Hysus raised one eyebrow. “From there, the adept mages will manipulate the siphon’s energy and turn it back into your own form.”

  “You can do that?” Leil asked.

  “The siphon is merely another form of energy,” Hysus said. “Corrupted and dangerous, but energy all the same. How else do you think the mages in Runon were able to direct the drain to only target lands outside of Runon itself?”

  “You must have powerful mages for that,” Alesh said. She crossed her arms over her chest, and glanced once quickly at Ral, who seemed more entranced with the cavern than the conversation happening around her.

  “Then in Chayd—” Leil began and almost immediately stopped, jaw snapping shut, but Tatsu knew where her thoughts had gone. It’d been the same thing he’d worried over when he’d been back at his father’s cottage, looking out at the mountains and hills ravaged by the siphon. Chayd had no mages strong enough to control the drain, which Leil herself had once admitted.

  Had the queen succeeded in using Yudai, Dradela would have been destroyed.

  Somehow, in the midst of everything else unfolding, the image of what might have occurred had Tatsu not intervened seemed to overshadow h
is reality, and he shook his head to rid the thoughts of it. Yudai glanced at him, but there was nothing in his expression showing that he’d made a similar connection. His features were ashy white and drawn, and against the paleness of his cheekbones, his lashes were very black.

  “When I’m under the water,” he started, slowly, as if drawing out the question would delay his own torture, “my body will be dying.”

  “Yes,” Hysus said. “Once the siphon has been reverted, we will pull you from the pool and remove the water from your lungs, but…”

  “You don’t know if it will be fast enough to save me.”

  “You can’t be serious about doing this,” Alesh said. “This is too much to even consider. They’re going to kill you.”

  Yudai looked to Tatsu again, and Tatsu was torn. Every nerve in his body was screaming for Yudai to reconsider, to walk away whole, and yet he knew Yudai was looking to him for strength, not compassion. All he could manage was a single curt nod, and he hoped it was enough—it would have to be. He couldn’t force his teeth apart to get any words out, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure what they might’ve been.

  “This is it,” Yudai said quietly. “One way or another, this will decide things.”

  “Yudai,” Alesh began.

  Yudai cut her off with a wave of his hand. “No goodbyes. No one says anything or else—just don’t.”

  He turned to Hysus. “I’ll do it. I’m ready.”

  “And so are we,” Hysus replied. He gestured towards the pool’s shimmering edge. “Please, let us prepare you for the ritual.”

  The preparations were to strip him down to the bottom layer of linens and then clothe him in a long white robe that draped across the cool rock of the cave floor. The robe itself was adorned with blue thread woven into designs. Curves and stripes and symbols that Tatsu had never seen before blossomed across the sleeves and the back as if they were enveloping Yudai in their grasp, a bramblebush of support.

  “What is this?” Tatsu asked Jotin, who was hanging back near the entrance of the cave rather than venturing further. Tatsu got the impression that he didn’t feel comfortable with a mountain of rock sitting above their heads. “What are they doing?”