Conjuring the Flesh

by Brandon Fox

  “We know the bond’s still there,” Ander insisted. “Something must be interfering with your perception.” He rolled on top of Thane and held his gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

  There was no escaping the demand. Thane took a deep breath and recounted how they had found the crystals. They held each other tightly, seeking comfort in the contact.

  Ander shivered from the anxiety pouring through their bond by the time the story was told. “Nicolai’s guess is probably right,” he said. “Residue from the cantrip must have clung to you. Is there some way we could tell?”

  The question distracted Thane, acting like balm on his ragged nerves. He stroked Ander’s back as he pondered the question. “I can think of some things to try,” he said at last. “If the spell left a taint, some of the crystals in the workroom might react to it. They’ve been prepared to function in magic.” He gave Ander another strong squeeze. “It’s worth a try.”

  Ander returned the hug, then slipped out from beneath the quilt and reached for the clothes he had left on the floor next to their cushion the night before. “Do we have time for breakfast first?” He started dressing. “It’s damned cold in here this morning. A few minutes by the hearth in the dining hall would be welcome.”

  Thane pulled on his pants and boots. He frowned at his leather shirt, which glistened with a thin layer of frost, before pulling it over his head. “We’ll get breakfast soon. Just a quick stop in the workroom first. I thought of something to try; it’ll only take a moment.”

  Ander finished dressing, hungry but gratified by Thane’s budding optimism. The hope he felt through their bond was more satisfying than any breakfast he could have desired.

  They entered the corridor between Thane’s room and the workroom. Nobody else had quarters on the tower’s highest floor, and all was quiet.

  Sun filled the workroom, pouring through prisms set in the windows and painting the walls with color. Water in the granite pool at the room’s center was crusted with an icy fringe. Ander opened a valve that allowed hot water from nearby hot springs to flow into the pool.

  Thane went to a table positioned between two tall bookcases. A cabinet with dozens of small wooden drawers filled the table’s back half. He reached up high and removed a drawer in the next-to-top row. Ander joined him and helped push aside a stone mortar and pestle containing dried leaves and flower blossoms. Aromas of lilac and cypress bark lingered in the cold air.

  Thane placed the drawer on the table’s scarred surface. It held a large crystal shaped like a thick-bodied spear that shone in the morning light with an azure luster. “A blood stone,” he explained as he tilted the box to make light glint on the crystal’s facets. “They’re used to find places where blood magic has been performed.” He turned the box upside down and dumped its contents on the table. Then, his hand shaking slightly, he touched the crystal. He gasped and staggered backward, eyes wide with shock and pain. The crystal had turned from pale azure to a livid purple.

  Ander felt the mage’s nausea. He swallowed the bile and reached out, catching Thane as his knees buckled. After a few seconds, he regained his balance.

  “What happened?” Ander asked. “What did it mean?”

  Thane still looked sick. He leaned forward and put his hands on the table. “I’m not sure. But one thing I do know. The cantrip I triggered wasn’t completely dissipated when Nicolai helped me fight free. What I felt just now was like the beginning of the attack in Pella.” The pain vanished from his expression as a new idea seized his attention.

  “The blood stone absorbs anima when it’s created. It takes three mages using a potent elixir; it’s a strong spell. There must have been enough anima in the stone to awaken whatever traces of blood magic still cling to my body.” He shivered with disgust. “I feel like I’m covered with spiders.”

  “We’ll find a way to get rid of it. At least you know it’s a spell causing the problem, not some kind of injury.” He wished he could provide real help but knew he had little to offer that Thane wouldn’t have already considered. “Are there any spells for purification? What about the magic we used when Nicolai got sick on the trip to Fochelis?”

  “That’s different. He was—”

  A sharp crack followed by a crash made them whirl toward the sound. Muted screams followed moments later. They rushed to the window. Ander opened the latch and swung the heavy frame outward. A blast of icy air hit their faces.

  Initiates were already running into the courtyard. The creak of tortured wood drew their eyes to the greenhouse in a clearing beyond the castle’s walls. A cloud of swirling snow obscured their view at first. As it settled, Ander saw a sickening pile of twisted timbers and crushed vegetation. One end of the greenhouse lay in ruins.

  Thane’s face held shock. “The snow! It’s too much for the greenhouse roof!” They sprinted for the door, then careened down the spiral staircase and outside.

  Two dozen initiates were already in the courtyard, running toward the gate that led to the greenhouse. They parted to let Thane and Ander through. What Ander saw when they emerged into the clearing made his heart sink.

  The greenhouse, a beautiful structure of ornately carved wooden beams and sweeping sheets of glass, shuddered beneath a thick coat of snow. A third of the building was destroyed. Through the collapsed portion of a wall, he saw broken remains of the tender plants that filled the building. Thousands of specimens collected through years of effort, the ingredients for elixirs and potions that increased awareness and gave the art its power, would have died almost instantly when the icy air reached them. The magnitude of the loss was overwhelming.

  Nicolai was among the initiates already on the scene. As they approached, he threw a rope at the protruding end of a beam just below the roofline. The toss was true, and a loop at the end of the rope snagged the log. He tugged the rope to tighten the knot.

  Sorel dropped to a knee and held the end of the rope steady as Nicolai swarmed up. In seconds he reached the beam and swung himself up to straddle it. He began using his arms to sweep the roof. Bystanders jumped back as sheets of wet snow rained down.

  A freezing gust of wind swept the clearing, followed by a loud groaning noise. The standing portion of the greenhouse seemed to shudder. Nicolai immediately slid back on the beam that supported him, then reached down and found the rope. Timbers began to snap as he swung beneath the beam. When he was halfway down, he released the rope and dropped to the ground, landing in a snowdrift.

  The greenhouse trembled as wind whistled through its broken walls. A great pane of glass twisted free of its damaged mooring and crashed into the debris below. Those standing nearest the building hurriedly moved back.

  Nicolai was already sprinting away when a bloody figure crawled out of the greenhouse. He collapsed facedown in the snow while only halfway clear of the wreckage.

  People shouting and pointing drew everyone’s attention to the red stain on the snow. Sorel was closest. He rushed forward, ignoring the teetering structure, and pulled the figure from the rubble. Ander and Thane skidded to a halt next to them. Erik blinked up at them. He seemed dazed, and blood matted his dark brown hair.

  “Move him back,” Thane said. “The greenhouse could fall any second. We’re too close.”

  “Wait,” Erik said, gasping. “Skorri’s inside. Trapped….”

  “I’ll go,” Sorel said. He turned and dashed through the gap in the wall. Moments later Nicolai arrived.

  “Has Sorel gone mad? Did he just go inside?”

  “Take care of Erik,” Thane told him. “Get him inside, gently. He could have broken bones.”

  “What about Sorel?” Nicolai asked. “I’d better see what he’s doing before he gets himself killed.”

  “This is my fault,” Thane said. “Now go. Erik can’t wait. I’ll help Sorel.”

  “Me too,” Ander said. “You’re not going in there alone.”

  Thane looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment he nodded. “Let’s go.”

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nbsp; They followed the path Sorel had taken into the shattered greenhouse. Cold air was heavy with the smell of wet earth and dying vegetation. Water from the hot springs had been used to keep the greenhouse at a tropical climate; moisture from the humid air had turned to ice and coated everything with a thick layer of frost. Shattered panes of glass littered the wreckage like huge knives, their edges sharp as razors.

  The section of greenhouse they entered had contained a bamboo forest, interwoven with exotic orchids and vines of tropical flowers. Snow dusted the blooms that hadn’t been crushed beneath falling glass. Splintered bamboo waved in front of them like the spears of an approaching army.

  They found Sorel crouched beside a foot-thick timber near the center of the wreckage. Skorri lay unmoving, his legs pinned beneath the timber. Chunks of glass and fragments of bamboo flew as Sorel uncovered the rest of his body. The greenhouse vibrated like a reed as icy wind howled through torn walls. Another glass panel fell from the ceiling fifteen feet to their left. It sliced through a stand of bamboo like a scythe but was deflected away from them. Ander and Thane joined the effort. In seconds they had freed Skorri from all the wreckage except the massive timber. He still didn’t move.

  Ander couldn’t see any blood, which only made Skorri’s stillness more alarming. He stepped back and examined the beam. It had been wrenched from a wall as the roof collapsed. The far end was still connected to the framing, and the wall was so badly twisted he couldn’t fathom how it still stood.

  Thane grabbed the broken end of the timber. “Sorel, help me lift the beam while Ander pulls him out.”

  Sorel positioned himself on the other side of the beam while Ander got his hands beneath Skorri’s shoulders. Then Thane and Sorel started to lift. The beam shifted, the end connected to the wall screeching as wooden pegs squeezed out of their holes. Snow fell from the broken roof in sheets as the wall twisted, and an ominous vibration shook the ground.

  Thane and Sorel put their backs into the effort, and the beam lifted another fraction of an inch. It was all Ander needed. As soon as the weight was off Skorri, he pulled the limp body out from beneath it. The youth groaned and shook his head weakly.

  “Hurry!” Sorel shouted. “Get him out of here. The beam’s slipping!”

  There was no time for delicacy. Ander knelt and gathered Skorri in his arms. A pained cry raised his hackles, and a surge of panicked energy brought him to his feet. He carried Skorri toward the hole in the wall, his heart pounding, as his friends started to ease the timber back to the ground.

  Escape was only three steps away when another shudder shook the building. Sorel shouted as the wall beside them buckled and the beam twisted out of his hands. The force of the sudden movement threw him backward into a pile of broken glass and ruined foliage. Thane ran to his side and helped him to his feet. They staggered together, following Ander, as splintered wood and glass crashed down around them.

  Initiates rushed to Ander as he emerged. He sank to his knees, struggling not to drop Skorri. Thane and Sorel were right behind him. They were covered with an alarming amount of blood.

  Two initiates, a pair of dark-skinned men a little older than Ander, laid out a blanket and helped him lower Skorri onto it. Then Katy joined them, and each took a corner of the blanket. He was motionless again. Ander feared the worst as they carried him across the frozen field and into the castle compound, then into the dining hall.

  A fire burned in the hearth, and tables were cluttered with unfinished breakfasts. Erik sat on a bench near the fire, receiving treatment for his injuries. His shirt was gone, and his eyes were closed while Nicolai used a cloth to wipe blood from a gash on his forehead. Matted hair and bruises made him look like he’d been beaten. He opened his eyes as Ander and his helpers lowered their burden to the floor. Once he saw Skorri’s motionless form, he lurched off the bench and knelt at their side. Terror filled his eyes. “Skorri?” He bent low, his face nearly touching his lover’s hair, and nudged him gently. “Do you hear me?”

  “Careful,” Ander warned. “We had to bring him in from the cold, but it’s dangerous to move him.”

  Erik looked up, stricken. “How bad is he hurt? I… I couldn’t help him. I tried but couldn’t.”

  “You did the right thing, going for help. He woke for a moment when we were pulling him out. That’s a good sign.”

  Erik’s breath rasped, and tears streaked his face. Ander put an arm around his shoulders and felt him quivering with barely suppressed panic. A girl brought over another blanket and draped it across Skorri’s body, leaving only his face exposed.

  A soft curse from Nicolai made Ander look up. Thane was entering the hall with Sorel staggering beside him. Both their shirts were soaked with blood, and Sorel’s face was ashen.

  Nicolai rushed to his partner’s side and took his weight off Thane. “You need some stitching, from the looks of this. Do you want me to do it?”

  Sorel grimaced as Nicolai eased him to a bench. “A noble offer, but not a good idea. We’d be in contact, so you’d feel the needle as sharply as I. I don’t want your hand to shake while you’re poking a needle through my side. Let one of the women do it.”

  Nicolai settled by Sorel’s side and held one of his hands. “All right, I’ll let Anna sew you up. But I’m not leaving. I can share my strength with you while it’s done.”

  Sorel nodded gratefully. “It’s not necessary. But I welcome your comfort.”

  Leaning close, Nicolai gave him a gentle kiss. “My comfort is always yours. My very life, if you ever need it.”

  “I know,” Sorel said softly. “Now get Anna over here to do the deed before the rest of my blood runs out on the floor. Let’s be done with it.”

  “I saw her in the courtyard,” Thane said. “I’ll fetch her.” He left the room at a run while Nicolai picked up a knife and began to cut Sorel’s shirt away.

  A sudden jerk brought Ander’s attention back to Erik.

  “He moved!” Erik pulled away from Ander and bent over his partner with rapt attention. A few seconds later, Skorri’s forehead creased with pain and his eyes fluttered open.

  “Stop feeling like that,” Skorri mumbled. “You’re going to make me sick.” He pulled a hand from beneath the blanket and reached up to touch Erik’s wet face, looking at the tears with bemusement. “What happened? How did we get in here?”

  Erik’s joy must have poured through their bond like the sweetest nectar. Skorri’s eyes widened in surprised delight as Erik bent down and kissed him. Ander took a moment to bask in their happiness, then went to join Nicolai and Sorel.

  Bloody rags littered the floor around Sorel. He lay on his back on the bench, his lips drawn tight. Nicolai had cleaned the long gash in his side and now held a cloth against the wound. Despite the pressure, thick blood oozed around the edges of the cloth as his chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

  Sorel nodded slightly as Ander sat on the floor. “Skorri’s awake?”

  “I think he’ll be all right. If Erik doesn’t smother him with kisses, that is.”

  “If I know Skorri, that’s the best cure. Give him two minutes, and he won’t have anything on his mind except getting into Erik’s pants.”

  “An understandable obsession,” Nicolai said. He brushed a lock of hair back from Sorel’s eyes, then gave his nose a playful tweak. “I’ll never forget that time in the stable when you and Skorri took turns fucking Erik while he was hanging from a ladder. His cock was big enough to make the stallions envious.”

  “The stallions hardly got a chance to see it. As I recall, it rarely escaped from your lips.”

  “True,” Nicolai agreed. He smiled at the memory. “That ladder turned out to be useful. We’ll have to show Ander its possibilities one of these days.”

  Nicolai’s distractions were interrupted by Thane’s return. Anna was right behind him. She carried a spool of silk thread and a large needle. Ander felt a twinge of queasiness at the sight of the tools but knew there was no alternative. Even the art, i
f they dared to use it, wouldn’t have been enough to mend the gash in Sorel’s side. Nicolai removed the bloody cloth, and Anna looked at the wound.

  “You’re lucky,” she concluded after a quick examination. “Thane said you were knocked into splintered glass. You could easily have been impaled.”

  “A cheerful thought,” Sorel said. “I feel better already.”

  “Better not tease her,” Thane cautioned. “Remember who has the needle.”

  Anna grunted, then gestured for Sorel to get up. “Stretch out on this table,” she instructed. “It’ll be easier and faster.”

  Ander and Nicolai helped him move while Thane went to the kitchen for a bottle of brandy. Anna threaded the needle while waiting for him to return. Sorel watched her with surprising calm.

  “I hope it’s not too bad,” Ander said. He felt awkward and at a loss.

  Sorel reached over and touched his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve been sewn up before. I know what to expect.”

  “But you don’t have any scars,” Ander blurted. He started to blush. “I mean, none that I’ve seen.”

  Sorel chuckled, though the movement made him wince. “The art does more than keep you from aging, Ander. It heals your body too.”

  “You should have seen him when we met,” Nicolai said. “He was a real hellion and had the scars to prove it. But we’ve practiced the art a lot. The scars are long gone.”

  Thane returned from the kitchen with a bottle of honey-colored brandy and a clean cloth. After soaking the cloth with some of the liquor, he handed the bottle to Sorel. “Go ahead and have a drink. It might help.”

  Sorel accepted the brandy and took a swig, sputtering as the fiery liquid went down. Then he nodded to Thane. “Go ahead and do it. No point waiting.”

  Thane moved the alcohol-soaked rag along the wound in short strokes, making sure there was no debris in the cut. Sorel’s breath escaped in a low hiss. The muscles of his arms and torso tightened, hard as boards, but he didn’t protest. When the task was done, he took another swig of brandy before handing the bottle to Ander. “Take care of it. I might want more later.”