by Aaron Pogue
And I knew immediately why. He turned to me, and though I knew nothing of him but the shape of his wretched shadow against a wall, I knew him. He stank of sour sweat and cheap beer. His fine clothes were threadbare and grass-stained, and his long cloak showed the tatter of heavy use. His skin, too, was rough and sun-scorched, his features thin, and his deep-set eyes were dark with weariness and worry.
They fixed on me, and I expected him to shout. I expected him to run. I fumbled clumsily for my sword, stumbled one step back, but he flew to me in an instant. The traitor Lareth clapped one strong, stinking hand over my mouth. He slammed the other on my right wrist, trapping my sword in its scabbard, and hissed a word of power.
Empty air rained on me like the blows of a Guardsman's club. They cracked down on my shoulders and crashed against the backs of my knees, driving me down to the ground. And as I went the wizard went with me, stinking hand still clamped over my mouth. When I was flat on my back, he whispered another word and the crushing blows subsided.
He stooped there beside me, resting lightly on his heels. Then he threw one glance back toward the council hall. The Masters still muttered among themselves beyond the cracked door. Even as the thought crossed my mind the rebel wizard pulled a sturdy little work knife from his belt and pressed its tip into the soft skin beneath my chin. He pressed until the point bit against my flesh, then raised both eyebrows and removed his hand.
The Masters still lingered in their council hall. I knew I could cry out and bring them here—and he could slit my throat and disappear in an instant. So I held my tongue, trembling with fear and fury, and he watched my eyes with his head half-turned, as though he were also listening to the murmur in the other room.
After a moment he leaned closer. "Who are you?"
"Just a student at the Academy," I said.
His head twitched, and he frowned at me for a moment. Then I felt the knife tremble lightly against my throat and a cruel smile curved his lips. "Who knows you are here?"
I thought fast, closed my eyes for a heartbeat, and then looked up at him. "The Kind Father sent me," I said. "And I told the Chancellor's apprentice I would be here. And Master Claighan expected me."
"Ah," he said, disappointed, and then a moment later. "Ah. You are Claighan's boy."
I said nothing, but he saw confirmation somewhere in my expression. He grinned. "The things I'll be allowed to do to you...."
"You have done enough," I said. I tasted the bitterness in the words, and Lareth seemed to take great joy in it.
He hissed, "Tell me about it."
I wanted to spit at him. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to cry out, but I didn't dare. He rocked on his heels above me and pulled the knife away to rest his elbows on his knees. He was still close enough to kill me with one motion, but I saw my chance now. Delight at my predicament shone in his eyes. I remembered him beating Claighan for fun. He was doing the same thing now. He wanted to hear my pain, and I could use that. If I could keep him distracted long enough the Masters would find him on their own. And even Seriphenes could not protect this one if he were caught by the other Masters.
So I let my shoulders fall, let my very real frustration and anger show in my eyes. "You have personally cost me everything." I said. His eyes danced with pleasure. I shook my head. "Your treachery robbed me of the protection of the king."
Lareth gave me an unapologetic shrug. "A matter of unfortunate timing," he said. "I didn't even know you."
"That has made me a wanted murderer," I said, letting fear tremble in my voice. "And made my only patron a traitor still on his deathbed."
Lareth waved it away. "The old man had to go sometime."
I sat up, heaving my shoulders off the floor, and only stopped from striking him when he pressed the knife close again and I felt it break the soft flesh on my throat. He raised both eyebrows in threat and I sank back. I raised a hand to stop the trickle of blood, and he allowed it.
I looked away. "You've harmed far more than me," I said. "You've brought the whole nation to the brink of war."
"No," Lareth said. "The duke brought the nation to the brink of war. The king, in his arrogant pride, has pushed it over. And I, by the strength of my hand, shall settle the matter more swiftly than could otherwise be done."
"By your hand?" I sneered. "How will you settle the matter?"
His eyes shone. A smile of pure delight lit his face. He leaned close to whisper to me, pressing the knife's edge against the soft skin of my throat as he did. "I am going to kill the king. He sends his soldiers now, but they will not defeat us. They will not even find us. And when in time he comes in person, he will reclaim the city of Tirah. The brave victor again."
His breath flashed hot against my ear. I peered past his stringy hair, staring hard at the door to the council chambers, praying for them to come find us here.
Then Lareth drove those thoughts from my mind. "And then I will kill him. On the road to Tirah, surrounded by ten thousand of his men, I will strike him down and end this war." He pulled back, searching my eyes for the awe he knew would be there.
But there was no awe. There was only fear, desperation. This man would kill the king. That would not end the war, that would start an age of conflict like this nation had never known. I closed my eyes. I took a breath. And then I hit him.
From my place on the ground I threw a punch hard at his jaw, moving my other arm to push away at the knife against my throat. His shock saved my life, and gained me enough time to shout, "Claighan! Lhorus! Seriphenes!"
He snarled and fell forward against me again, and this time I knew he would kill me. I couldn't let him get away with that. I struggled, digging fingers hard into the wrist of his knife hand and clawing at his face with the other, but he didn't try to press the attack. Instead he caught a breath, and spoke a word. My world became pain.
I felt the traveling spin around me, violent and fast, threads sharp as knives and strong as steel snapping down against my flesh in all directions, then twisting tight. Squeezing. My vision faded to darkness. Then bursts of colored light flashed behind my eyes. And then it was over.
I ended up lying on my back, gasping for air. He stood over me, apparently unaffected, and pressed a boot down hard on my right wrist, pinning it to the polished wooden boards of a well-made floor. I felt my vision swim once more, watched unnatural colors wash in and out, and then at last the world settled back to normal. I found myself staring up at the side of a heavy office desk, two high-backed, narrow chairs off to one side, and a framed map of the Old Kingdoms hanging on the wall beside the door. I was in a study.
It wasn't Lareth's place. Not given his ragged clothes and dirty hair. This room belonged to someone else. From the looks of it, to someone of wealth and power. Someone of advanced education. And then a sudden understanding burned new anger into my heart. He hadn't bothered to take me away at all.
I felt the snarl twist my lips, and he laughed when he saw it. I ignored him, though. My right wrist was trapped, but I was no child. I spun at the waist, throwing my shoulders up off the ground and driving my left fist hard toward the side of his right knee. It might have been a crippling blow for all the ferocious strength I threw behind it.
But he spoke a word and danced back, and a web of magic air fell across me like a cast-iron blanket. It slammed me back against the floor and drove the breath from my lungs. Then he stepped forward and, pinned though I was, he brought his booted heel down hard on my right wrist once again. I screamed at the pain, but his weave of air stole even the expression of my agony from me. The wizard laughed.
And then the door flew open behind him. Seriphenes stalked in, eyes blazing. He threw the door shut and fixed a hard gaze on the wizard Lareth. "Give me three good reasons not to burn you to the ground."
Lareth grinned, lazy and delighted, and twisted his heel against my wrist. "First," he said, "for love of a prized and cherished pupil. Second, for your own reticence to do what must be done. That stays your hand even as it makes me
a terribly valuable asset to you."
Seriphenes's eyes stayed on Lareth, dark and demanding, and the traitor shrugged. "And third," Lareth said, "for apprehending your enemy's agent, spying on his betters."
The Master's eyes widened. Then they narrowed. They swung down to fix on me. Still, he spoke to Lareth. "You are a fool. A reckless, dangerous, terrible fool. You made yourself known to this one—"
"Easily enough remedied," Lareth said.
"No. Not without raising questions. He draws too much attention, wherever he goes."
"But look at him!" Lareth said. "He's packed for traveling. Let me take him back to my camp. Everyone here can think he has run away to join the war, and I can provide my unschooled soldiers an impromptu lecture on human anatomy."
Seriphenes made an irritated sound and shook his head. "No. No, that would not do. I must handle this myself." He considered me, eyes still narrow, then shook his head again. "Why have you come here, Lareth?"
"I had to know the decision of the war council."
"You did not trust me?" Seriphenes demanded.
"I honestly did not believe. Four good men of the king's. Five, with that old bastard suddenly awake. And somehow you carried a unanimous vote to defy him."
"They are easily swayed," Seriphenes said. His eyes lingered on me, and he frowned. "You have not stopped his hearing?"
Lareth shrugged. "I was still teasing him when you arrived."
Seriphenes considered me for a moment, and then the breath escaped him in a sound of regret. "It matters little, I suppose. He knows too much now."
Lareth gave a little bow. "Precisely why you should let me dispose of him, Master."
"No. I have other hands than yours, Lareth. And an opportunity has just presented itself."
Lareth frowned. Understanding showed on his face just as it came to me, too. "The dragon?"
"Four problems, now," Seriphenes said. "But it must be now. Keep him for an hour, locked up tight, and then let him go. And get out of here."
"What? We won't be sharing dinner?"
Seriphenes growled low in his throat. "You're a reckless fool," he said. "And someday it will get you very dead. Now more than ever, you must stay away from the Academy. I could not protect you if you had been caught."
He gestured down at me, turning it into a flourish. "But my master, I can protect me. See how well I've done?"
"Against a shepherd who cannot make a seeming of moonlight to save his soul?" Seriphenes snorted. "By all means, take pride in that. I've also heard your soldiers very nearly won an altercation with a loose formation of wild hogs. You're quite the tactical genius."
"Domesticated hogs, as it happens," Lareth said. His smile never slipped. "We lost three good men that day."
Seriphenes headed to the door, but he stopped before he opened it. He looked back at me, and I saw regret in his eyes. "Hold him," he said. "Do not scar him. He must be seen in public before the ruse is truly done."
And then he left, and Lareth turned his attention back to me. It is remarkable how much pain a wizard can cause without leaving the slightest scar.
10. The First Dragon
Worse than the physical pain was the memory of the wizard's threat. He meant to kill the king. The rebel duke had started this war, but the king had more than enough resources to quash a minor rebellion. The threat was not the duke, but the battle wizard who had joined him.
Yet even with Lareth assisting the rebel soldiers in battle, he was only one man. The threat had been of more lives lost before stability returned. More stupid soldiers like Cooper stretched dead on the battlefield. But this was something different. If Lareth could strike at the king personally, if he could actually succeed in this plan, he could break the kingdom. That was something Duke Brant never could have hoped to accomplish, but Lareth just might.
I winced beneath invisible blows, but I trembled in fear of the world torn apart. We wouldn't even need Claighan's dragonswarm. If Lareth killed the king, we could destroy ourselves.
But something struck me in the heart of my fear. There was an opportunity here. If I could just survive, if I could carry warning to the king, if I could thwart Lareth's plan I'd be a hero. Forget the amnesty, if I could help the king break Lareth's power, I could end this war.
I found myself laughing at the thought, a low, dark chuckle that seemed to drive the wizard mad. He struck harder and harder, but I clung to my hope. Let him hurt me now. If I could just survive, I would destroy him.
He finally relented when the bell began to ring. I'd missed the supper bell while I was packing, but it certainly wasn't yet even bell. It rang differently, too, high and sharp and insistent instead of the slow, steady toll of the hour. It was a summons. Seriphenes had used his hour well.
A moment after the first tolling of the bell, the door to Seriphenes's office opened and Archus stepped through it. I'd gone five months without catching more than a glimpse of the apprentice. It hadn't been long enough. I would have been happier if it had been a lifetime.
The disgust in his eyes as they passed over me, curled up and crying on the floor, said he felt the same way. His gaze passed on to take in Lareth, too, and the two stood considering each other for some time.
They made a sharp contrast. Lareth wore his blond hair long and loose, and his blue eyes looked astonishingly pale against his sun-dark skin. His white tunic and black breeches had both been fine once, but they were both worn and well on their way to gray. He was probably still a year or two shy of thirty, but the years had not been kind.
Archus, though, could not have been more than nineteen. He held himself tall and straight, dressed in perfect black silk and satin to match his short, dark hair and his flashing eyes. It all stood in stark contrast to his pale, smooth skin. The only trait he shared with Lareth was his cruelty.
And contempt. The two regarded each other with undisguised disdain. Then Archus nodded, a peremptory gesture. "You've done your job. Now you should go."
The wizard sneered. "I do not take orders from children."
"You don't take orders from anyone but your own reckless folly," Archus said. "Regardless, there is quite a bustle of Masters about, and it would be worth your head if you were even glimpsed. So go back to hiding in your hole. I'll take care of the shepherd."
My stomach clenched at that, but there was nothing I could do. Chains of air bound me hand and foot, and a cruel muzzle pinched my mouth shut and left me barely enough room to breathe. I could only lay on my side and pant and pray.
The two of them stared in mutual hatred a moment more, until another peal of the bell pulled Archus's attention. He waved a hand in dismissal and turned away. He frowned, considering me like a puzzle, and then I felt the bonds of air stretch and shift, still clamped tight around me, but they rolled up my forearms like splints.
There was a break at my elbow, but more rigid force around my biceps, and around my thighs, and calves. I felt the air lock around me like perfectly-fitted pieces of plate armor. Then Archus considered his invisible handiwork for a moment and nodded in satisfaction.
He quirked a smile, bent a hand, and said, "Come." To my horror I obeyed.
Or, rather, the worked-air obeyed. The bonds around my right calf shifted, forward and up, and I had to bend my knee or let the bone break. The cuff drifted forward, then set itself, and the bonds on my left leg repeated the gesture. On the second step he moved my arms, too, jerkily at first, but before I reached the corridor he was controlling me like an able puppeteer.
I heard Lareth bark a laugh of approval behind me, and then the door slammed shut, and Archus guided me down and down to the floor of the tower and out into the red-tinged evening light.
The courtyard around the Tower of the Masters was mostly empty, though I saw the Chancellor hurrying across it at a distance. I fought Archus's bonds then. I struggled with all my might against them, but they might as well have been cast iron. I tried to scream against the muzzle on my mouth, but I couldn't manage much more
than a moan, and he did not even look my way. Archus stepped up beside me, so I could see the satisfied smile on his face, and then he pushed me on ahead.
He led me around the northeast corner of the Halls of Learning, and onto the north edge of the Arena. The stark, dusty courtyard stretched half a mile before me, and as soon as we entered it I was overwhelmed by the bustle of motion. It had probably been this full when I had come to challenge Archus, but I hadn't had the attention to spare then. Now I had no control over my body, I could not even turn my head, so I stared out over the milling crowd as I trod inexorably ahead.
The whole of the student body seemed to be gathered in the Arena. All in a throng the students of the Academy were rushing out from among the buildings and into the courtyard. They didn't mill about, either. They organized into tight square formations and then moved smoothly to the south.
Among the rushing bodies I caught sight of someone familiar. Themmichus stood at the edge of the courtyard, standing on one of the rough stone outcrops to see over the crowd, eyes scanning desperately left and right. He was looking for me. I tried again to resist, to catch his attention. If Themmichus saw me with Archus he would know something was wrong. Muzzled or not, I'd find assistance from him. I threw my gaze hard against him, hoping to draw his attention with the weight of it, but he was mostly watching students flowing out from between the buildings. Archus and I were the only ones coming from the Masters' yard.
I had a thought, a spark of desperate hope, and I closed my eyes. I flashed through the exercises I'd learned from Antinus, and then for good measure worked through them again, settling into a distant, removed kind of calm. I could still feel my heart battering, feel the pinching pain every time one of Archus's cuffs bent me to his will, but it was a flutter on the edge of my mind. I focused my attention and imagined the world as I needed it to be.
