Prisoner

by Megan Derr

  He should have gone for help and cursed himself for giving into panic like a green soldier. Foolish. He tried to cry out, but another spell made the floor move dizzily beneath him. Sol fought it, attempting to regain himself, and drawing upon all he knew about arcen-induced magic.

  Suddenly he felt sorry for the Krians, really and truly sorry. For years they had gone up against not one but two magic-capable races with nothing more than steel. Krians did not have magic to soothe the force of a blow and to numb pain. Even while living in the Winter Palace, he'd always had some measure of arcen in his system.

  Blood dripped and trickled from a dozen wounds or more that were cut deep enough to cause excruciating pain, but not enough to kill. It hurt.

  No wonder the Krians hated magic.

  Sol waited, bleeding, as Tawn approached him. Tawn laughed. "You're as vulgar and pathetic as the rest of them now. Even your lover could not put up a fight. At least the Krians have some means of fighting back."

  Snarling, Sol threw himself up, toppling Tawn while screaming as loudly as he could and fighting to keep Tawn from speaking. His vision swam, but Sol kept it up until he heard people enter the room.

  He looked up to see Dieter and Beraht, both only half dressed. Dieter's sword shimmered in the light of the fire and lamps. Sol slid to the ground, and Tawn broke free. Distantly, Sol heard as Tawn attacked them. He looked up in time to see Dieter shove Beraht aside and raise his sword—and deflect the misshapen air that was the only visible sign that a spell had been cast.

  Then Dieter was moving, and if Tawn was hurting him, he gave no sign of it. They fought around the small space, table and chairs treated as little more than minor annoyances. Sol didn't struggle when Beraht finally reached him and helped him up. They made their way slowly toward the fire, and Sol collapsed fearfully alongside Iah.

  Dieter was driving Tawn back into a corner, barely seeming to notice the spells tossed at him, ignoring the cuts and burns that were ruining his clothes. With a lunge and roar, he broke through the barriers Tawn had erected at the cost of dimming his eyes to orange-red.

  Tawn fell, too grievously wounded to be able to heal. Dieter stabbed him again to be sure and did not move until Tawn was unquestionably dead.

  Sol collapsed.

  *~*~*

  "Stars above!" Beraht swore. He looked at the bloody corpse in the corner, von Adolwulf's red-stained sword, and Sol and Iah, both beaten and bloody before the fire. "Stars above," he repeated.

  Von Adolwulf looked at him. "How are they?"

  "Not good," Beraht said grimly. "Any arcen on him?" He returned the scathing look von Adolwulf shot him. "It's the only way! Save your lectures for when everyone is alive and well enough to put up with them."

  Though he looked as though he wanted to argue, von Adolwulf nodded stiffly and knelt to rifle through Tawn's clothing. He came away with three vials and tossed them one by one to Beraht, who caught the first and uncorked it one-handed even as he caught the second two with the other hand. "Remember the last time I had red?" he asked.

  "It would be rather hard to forget."

  Beraht whistled as he held up a vial. It was viscous, the color of fresh blood. "This is good stuff. Better even than the stuff you gave me in Kria."

  "So if you start acting more hostile than usual I should do to you what I did to him?" von Adolwulf motioned to Tawn's body.

  "Go ahead and try," Beraht said. "For once I might actually be able to give you the thrashing you deserve."

  Von Adolwulf said nothing, but Beraht could see the smirk in his eyes. Ignoring him, Beraht downed the sickly-sweet arcen, grimacing at the underlying bitterness, like bitter tea with too much sugar that was still not enough.

  Iah was in bad shape, weak and shuddering and not a healthy color. Beraht wondered what Tawn had been planning to leave him alive. Nothing good, from all that Beraht had heard about him. Ignoring the dizziness and nausea brought on by the arcen and trying hard to ignore how confident he suddenly felt despite the clawing need to vomit, Beraht focused his mind on the magic. On not being overwhelmed this time—which was a lot easier to do when there wasn't some rocks-for-brains bastard picking fights while people cheered for his death.

  The healing spell hurt him, drawing things from his mind and body that only arcen could tap. The red arcen was too much, too fast, but it was all he had. Beraht bit down hard on the inside of his cheeks and made him himself focus. No one else would be able to heal them.

  He didn't stop channeling the magic until Iah's face took on a healthier color, and he seemed to breathe more easily. Wiping sweat from his brow, Beraht shifted his attention to Sol. Knowing what to expect, and with the injuries much less severe, it was easier if not easy.

  "It never fails to amaze me," von Adolwulf said as he finished.

  "What?" Beraht snapped, pleased he could muster the energy for that. The fire felt too hot, the floor too hard, and he really wished everyone would just go away. Especially the bastard.

  "How much your country values something that clearly does nothing but kill you slowly."

  Beraht slowly stood up, not really trusting his legs, but hating to be on the floor while von Adolwulf loomed over him. "We need to move them."

  Though it looked as though von Adolwulf wanted to argue the matter, he nodded stiffly and lifted Sol into his arms. "A different room?"

  "Only you," Beraht said in disgust, "would say it like leaving them in here is an option." He struggled to pick up Iah, but gave up when he nearly fell over himself from a hard wave of dizziness. "You do it. I've done my part."

  He thought he heard von Adolwulf laugh, but he was already out the door, and Beraht could not catch his expression. A couple of minutes later he returned and took Iah. Beraht followed behind.

  "Should we wake everyone up?" He helped von Adolwulf settle them in their new bed, tugging up the blankets and risking a couple more healing spells to ensure that they were well and truly all right. Even with his assistance, however, they would not be moving any time soon.

  "No," von Adolwulf said after a moment. "There is nothing Lady Esta or the prince could do at this hour that cannot wait until morning."

  "Esta will be mad at you."

  Von Adolwulf shrugged. "Have someone wake Kalan. He would be most useful now."

  Beraht nodded and headed for the door. "I'll do it myself."

  *~*~*

  "Why," Kalan demanded with a yawn, "do I have to be the one to deal with this?" He grimaced at the corpse in the corner of the room. "It's far too early in the morning, for such things."

  Dieter snorted; it almost sounded like amusement. "You're awfully calm about this for a civilian."

  "I'll thank you not to call me names," Kalan said, making a face. "I more or less run the part of the army that no one knows about—how else do you think I knew Spiegel? Even Matthias doesn't know everything I get up to. Who is he?"

  "Tawn," Beraht answered. "One of the higher-ranking in the Brotherhood—as in, he's been given permission to use the entire spectrum." He waved his hand in the air, as if motioning something away. "All the way up to red. It means the Brotherhood was either confident or desperate."

  Kalan sighed. "He came here to kill you and Sol?"

  "Yes. A prelude of it was the pain inflicted on us the other day, the night after I sleep-walked. I think Tawn would have come for Sol anyway. There's a personal antagonism between them that runs deep." He shook his head. "Spare me ever dealing with the complications of family."

  "Hmm…" Kalan motioned to two soldiers he'd brought with him. "Take the body away; have it burned and bring the ashes to me. We'll return them to the Brotherhood with a polite note. Will there be more?"

  "I don't think so," Beraht said. "At least not right away. But—"

  Kalan nodded. "No one invades Illussor, not when it is impossible to pretend to be one of us."

  "So they knew," Dieter added, looking up from the fire he'd been glaring at. "They knew Illussor magic would not be a problem.
"

  "Precisely." Kalan frowned in thought, eyes narrowed with worry. "Be discreet," he cautioned the guards. "I want no one to know about this. It will be your heads, gentlemen, if I hear rumors flying about tomorrow."

  "Sir," the men said stiffly as they struggled to take away Tawn's body.

  "Thank you." Kalan grimaced. "The rest of this can wait until tomorrow. What a mess. I am glad Sol and Iah are all right. Tawn should be grateful he's dead; Esta would have been cruel in her revenge had he lived." He yawned again. "I think I need a drink, but I'll settle for food. Come on, let's rouse a cook; you can tell me everything over again, and we'll see just exactly how much damage we're dealing with. I don't like the sounds of the Brotherhood knowing we no longer have magic."

  *~*~*

  "Are you certain you're all right?" Esta asked again, clinging to Iah's hand.

  Iah sighed. "Yes, Essie. I'm certain. Now quit asking, please."

  Esta frowned, but remained silent. She shifted her attention to Sol. "How did it happen?"

  "Essie," Matthias said tiredly, "they've already told you four times. Let it drop."

  Esta stormed to her feet, belatedly dropping Iah's hand when he protested having it yanked about. "I'm sick and tired of it! When does it stop? We're losing people to the Breaking because they won't learn to live without it. The king barely leaves his room! Over and over again I come close to losing my brother. Goddess curse you all!" Gathering her skirts, Esta turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

  Iah winced. "I'm glad you get to be the one to calm her down, Matti."

  "Coward," Matthias said with a grimace.

  Kalan grinned. "You want to marry her, best get used to it."

  "Oh, yes. Because that plan is going so well." Matthias sighed and slumped down further in his chair. "Why don't we continue with the general misery, and you tell me what you weren't saying with Esta in the room."

  Beraht stirred where he stood with von Adolwulf by the fire. "Tawn came with the intent of killing us for turning traitor. You would know better than us that sneaking into Illussor is impossible. Nor would the Brotherhood have allowed him to do something so obviously pointless unless they knew it could be done."

  Matthias nodded wearily. "So they knew we were without magic. But how?"

  Kalan looked grim. "I received a report only just this morning that the men in the second watch tower were killed, their eyes torn out. No doubt that explains a great deal. One of the chamber maids was also found dead this morning."

  "Stars above," Beraht said. "Does it never end?"

  Von Adolwulf looked at him scathingly. "You've been involved long enough to know it only ever gets worse." Beraht ignored him.

  Matthias sighed and stood up. "Depressing, but true. If I had known the fallout of the Breaking would be this bad, I don't know that I would have been able to go through with it." He settled his cane before attempting to move, and if anyone noticed his wince, they did not mention it. "So it's just as well that I didn't know. Dieter, how goes the training?"

  "As well as possible, though not as well as I'd like. It will take time."

  "More time than we have, I'm certain," Matthias said grimly. "If Salhara is aware we are without magic, then I've no doubt Kria is as well. I'm honestly not certain which country is more problematic."

  Beraht snorted. "I'm sure they'll fall to fighting each other long before they reach us here."

  "I think even the polluted would find it ideal to cooperate in the name of putting down their only threat so far as magic is concerned," von Adolwulf argued. He slid a thoughtful glance toward Sol. "That aside, I do not think your countrymen are up to traveling in this weather. Nor do the Krians favor doing it without sufficient motivation." He grinned. "And I assure you, fighting the Illussor is not sufficient motivation."

  Matthias quirked a brow. "Not even if we're housing their Wolf?"

  Von Adolwulf laughed. "Killing me can wait 'til Spring, I'm sure. If they bother to come for me at all."

  Beraht glanced at him before letting his eyes return to the fire. His thoughts wandered to the Kaiser and his behavior that day in the Coliseum. The rage that had surfaced when magic had taken von Adolwulf's sword away. For all that the bastard laughed it off, Beraht wasn't so certain the Kaiser would so easily let von Adolwulf get away. Hate was a harder master than that.

  Shoving the thought aside, Beraht focused on more important matters. "So how much do you think they know?"

  "We don't have magic," Matthias said. "What more is there to know than that?"

  "Him, for one," Beraht pointed a thumb at von Adolwulf. "He's not a universally hated bastard for nothing." He could feel von Adolwulf's eyes, the urge he must have been quashing to send Beraht to the floor gasping in pain. Beraht ignored him.

  Sol chuckled. Though he was obviously tired and still in pain, his words proved that his mind was as active as ever. "There is that. Certainly, I would hesitate to go where the Wolf has taken refuge, if I were in their position. I'm sure rumors abound that you've been a traitor for some time, much like I've been." His eyes slid closed as he thought. "I guess we need to ascertain just where we stand and how much danger we could be facing." He opened his eyes. "I do hope you're right about no one risking the snow."

  Von Adolwulf nodded. "Kria would not waste time and effort when the same could be accomplished at much less expense in the spring. No one is going anywhere until then. Especially the Salharans, who, for all they complain about how pathetic we are for quitting in winter," he said and sneered at Beraht "cannot take the cold at all. You never see a Salharan run faster than when the snow begins to fall."

  Beraht rolled his eyes. "Not all of us have ice in our veins."

  "Merely drugs."

  Matthias held up a hand. "Enough. The two of you could give my ministers lessons on bickering." He started to say something more, but shook his head and fell silent. "So we need to know precisely where we stand. Any idea how we go about that?"

  "Let me go to Salhara," Beraht said, words coming out in a rush as the idea came to him. "I've still plenty of red arcen in my blood, a journey there and back should be easy enough, and I'm good enough at—"

  "Sneaking around," von Adolwulf interrupted.

  "Going unobserved," Beraht snapped, "that I should not have too much trouble gathering information."

  Von Adolwulf sneered at him. "Not content with your eyes, Beraht? Hoping to make them the color of blood?"

  "Stars refuse you!" Beraht hissed. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

  "No?" von Adolwulf's arm snaked out, and he jerked Beraht close, one hand tilting his head up and slightly toward the fire. In the light of the flames, Beraht's eyes were a pale, glowing orange instead of the rich yellow they had been only the day before. "Isn't that the trick of arcen? That after a point it begins to control you? Have you not said before, Beraht, that arcen means a great deal to you? I think letting you go right into the heart of it would be the height of stupidity."

  Beraht lashed out, growing more furious at the realization that von Adolwulf let his kicks land. Stars, the man was the epitome of aggravating! Would Beraht ever be rid of him? More bitter still was the knowledge that he had no one but himself to blame for the Wolf's presence. Stars refuse him for a fool. "You don't know me. Don't pretend to. You think I don't know the risks of arcen, Krian? I don't need to be lectured by a man who thinks himself so superior. Especially one who's relied on arcen unwittingly for years."

  "Arcen did not give me my skills, Beraht." von Adolwulf's voice was low, a sure sign of danger.

  Surely by now von Adolwulf knew he wasn't intimidating enough to stop Beraht. Stars, he hated the way the bastard said his name. "No, but I'm sure it explains why you're still alive. I'm almost certain it must affect spells cast at you."

  "I assure you it does not."

  "Then how is it you didn't seem affected by Tawn's magic last night?"

  Von Adolwulf smirked. "It takes more than a few pathetic sp
ells to stop me."

  *~*~*

  Neither of them noticed the dead silence that had fallen around them. More than once, Matthias had started to interrupt, stopping only because watching them fight was strangely fascinating, as though it were some intricate dance.

  "That was concentrated arcen, you idiot. Did the cold freeze what passes for a mind in that rock head of yours? The spells Tawn was using were probably fatal or very nearly. If they didn't kill or even hurt you, it's probably because your sword was absorbing or deflecting or otherwise affecting the spells he was casting. So just accept that maybe you're as arcen-reliant as any Salharan."

  Dieter threw him to the floor. "Ridiculous. I fight often enough I would notice such a thing. As to how the spell affected me, how could you possibly tell? You don't know me." He turned away in disgust. "Do as you like. It makes no difference to me." Nodding to Matthias, he turned toward the door.

  It flew open even as he reached it, and Dieter barely stopped in time to avoid the soldier who burst into the room. "Highness! Highness!"

  "I'm right here," Matthias said, torn between concern and amusement.

  The soldier barely remembered to bow and came out of the motion only halfway through it. "Scarlet!"

  "What?" Matthias demanded. His eyes flew to Dieter, who had gone still before once again regaining his calm stance.

  "The Scarlet Army is approaching. Watch estimates there are roughly five hundred of them."

  "Why?"

  The soldier shook his head. "We don't know."

  "What banner do they fly?" Dieter demanded, voice cutting across the room. The soldier jumped and looked at him warily.

  "A black one," the soldier replied. "With your leaves." Dieter said nothing; he merely nodded, turned, and vanished out the door.

  "Hey!" Matthias called. "Wait a second!" He moved to follow his general—by the goddess Dieter was his general now—and cursed as he stumbled. Remembering his cane, ignoring Kalan's frown, he gripped the soldier's shoulder in thanks and went after Dieter.