by Edun, Terah
Then Thanar opened his power reserves. The black mist of his aura flowed down his arm and swirling around his wrist in a funnel as it leached into Thomas’s head. In Ciardis’s eyes, now was the time to panic. She stepped forward resolutely, yet unsure what she was willing to do to stop him. In any case it didn’t matter. Because Vana slapped the flat of her hand into Ciardis’s waist with a meaty sound, holding her back.
Ciardis yelped. That stung. She looked at Vana accusingly. The woman ignored her. She simply withdrew her hand and nodded at Thomas. Ciardis looked down at the boy kneeling before them and gulped. His eyes had turned pitch black. The whole of his iris had been overtaken until not a drop of white could be seen.
Ciardis asked, “What did you do to him?”
Thanar looked up at her, and to her consternation she noticed weariness in his gaze. Even his wings and shoulders were drooping a little. For a daemoni who strutted around with the pride and vigor of ten men, that was saying something. The healing, the maintenance of the shield, and the mental intrusion into Thomas’s mind were taking its toll on him. She thought about offering her assistance, boosting his power even. But she forced that thought ruthlessly down. The last time she had helped Thanar he had used her gifts to kill hundreds of innocents. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I put the barest of glamour on his mind and in the process lowered his inhibitions. He’ll speak to us clearly now. No stutter, no cowardice.”
“You what?” Ciardis said stiffly, eyeing the silent boy in front of her. Anger started to form in her gut.
Thanar said, “I don’t need to explain my actions to you, Weathervane. Many a time your bleeding heart has gotten you almost killed.”
Ciardis whirled on him. “Just because I care that you’re torturing the poor boy—”
“Poor boy?” sneered Thanar. “That boy has unleashed a dark magic that has been forbidden since before the Initiate Wars. Need I remind you that practitioners of dark mind magic are summarily executed? I’d be more concerned at how this poor boy learned how to use those gifts.”
Ciardis didn’t back down. “And torture is your answer?”
“If necessary, yes,” Vana said.
“I disagree,” Ciardis said, folding her arms resolutely.
A dark laugh escaped Thanar’s mouth. “I don’t care. You seem to forget who I am, Weathervane. I don’t serve you.”
“Then why are you here?” Ciardis nearly shouted.
“To get what is owed to me,” he said simply.
Ciardis was breathing hard at their confrontation. Fury clouded her mind. But she slowly took a mental step back. She couldn’t afford to lose Thanar right now. And she was certain she wouldn’t win anyway. Not with Vana on his side. She looked from Thanar to Vana and back to Thomas. The blackness in Thomas’s pupils slowly began to leech away. White formed on the outer rim as Thanar withdrew his magic until only his irises were a dark color.
As if loosened from a spell, Thomas shook his head in confusion and looked around.
Thanar stepped forward into his line of sight as he leisurely said, “Now, my young friend, we have some questions that need answering.”
Thomas wasn’t shaking anymore. In fact, he looked up at Thanar with something akin to eagerness.
“Anything you ask.”
Revolted, Ciardis echoed, “What’s wrong with him?”
Vana stood back, her face like stone.
Pleased with his work, Thanar stood over Thomas’s kneeling form and said to Ciardis, “It’s only temporary. He’s just more eager to please. Now he’ll tell us what we need to know.”
Ciardis didn’t have Vana’s restraint. She slapped Thanar across the face so hard that the sound of the slap echoed. In the silence that ensued, only one noise broke through the glacial feelings that permeated the air: the sound of Kane’s labored breath as he awoke and struggled to stand.
Ciardis’s hand stung but she was ready to slap Thanar again or whatever it would take to release Thomas.
“What’s going on?” Caemon asked from where he was helping Kane to his feet.
Ciardis said, “Thanar turned Thomas into his slave.”
She didn’t even register the pale look on her brother’s face as he helped Kane hobble over quickly. Thanar’s heavy-lidded eyes darkened and Caemon’s skin turned him into a ghost.
“Watch what you accuse a person of, Weathervane,” Thanar hissed.
Ciardis laughed so sharply it was almost a cackle. “I’m not the one who just took over a young mage’s mind in order to force him to do his bidding.”
Caemon slowly released Kane so that he could stand without support. Coming forward with tightness in his expression, he said to Thanar, “Bruder, was hast du getan?” Brother, what have you done?
Vana answered before Thanar could respond. “He made him more amenable to our inquiries.”
Ciardis interjected, “And he needs to fix it!”
Vana continued with reluctance, “Not yet.”
Ciardis whirled around, her mouth agape. “You condone this? Never mind—of course you do.” The last was said bitterly as she remembered Vana presiding over her own torture under the truth serum.
Vana’s mouth tightened. “I’ve watched as you let your anger towards those who have wronged you dwindle. You didn’t attack us for the torture session in the north. You let your mother and brother dictate the actions which lead others into peril. Today you take this mage’s side even though he stands here with proof written on his face that he attacked Inga. You forgive and you forget much too easily, Ciardis. Let this be a lesson. Many of us will do much to serve the greater good and if one person is hurt along the way, so be it.”
Ciardis shook her head. “That’s where you and I differ. Every person is worth saving. Every person is needed.”
Thanar said, “Even when one person has the power to destroy countless others?”
Ciardis turned to him, bitterness in her throat. “We all have that power. Every person, mage or mundane, can kill another being. Whether it’s through the force of their hand or the orders that spring from their lips, it is their burden to bear. And I will never forgive you for what you did in the sanctuary. You killed thousands of innocent kith to build your own power and open the rift between this world and the next. It was and is unconscionable. But I need you. We need you. To halt the blutgott’s advance.”
“And as I have told you time and again, Weathervane, I am his servant.”
With fury, Ciardis said, “Well, in this moment you serve me. You serve my goals. You are here under my command.”
Thanar said, “If you think that, then you are fooling yourself.”
“Enough,” said Caemon sharply. “Everyone’s loyalties may lie elsewhere, but right now we need to focus on Inga and why she attempted to kill Kane. What can Thomas tell us that necessitates you bind him like this?”
Vana said simply, “He’s the mage that nearly killed Inga and forced her to attack Kane.”
Caemon swallowed sharply and looked reluctantly at the kneeling boy at Thanar’s feet. “Can you reverse what you’ve done?”
“Of course,” Thanar said smoothly.
“Then he should give us answers as quickly as possible,” Caemon concluded, holding up a firm hand to halt his sister’s protests. “So that this is over as soon as possible.”
Thanar nodded. “Very well.”
He turned to Thomas and asked, “Why were you trying to have the soldier called Kane killed?”
“To leave the Weathervane vulnerable,” Thomas said, eyes fixated on Thanar. “If the guard died by the frost giant’s hand, it would leave the Weathervane without two of her protectors.”
“Which Weathervane?” said Thanar with a frown.
Suddenly Thomas stiffened as if in apoplexy. He began to shake.
“What are you doing Thanar?” said Vana.
“It’s not me,” said Thanar as he knelt down in front of Thomas. “My powers are weaker than normal, allowing h
im to fight back for control of his mind.”
“Or someone could be trying to kill him before he talks to you,” Caemon said.
“Who has that power?” said Ciardis.
“The person who hired him,” answered Vana.
Gripping Thomas’s shoulders, Thanar shouted in his face, “Which Weathervane? The mother? The one accused of the empress’s death?”
Foam began to appear as Thomas mouth and dripped from its corners as he bit his tongue. Haltingly, he said, “N-not the mother. Ciardis. The girl. They want her weakened. W-want mother d-dead”
Ciardis said. “Thanar, stop this. If he continues to fight the bond like this, it will kill him.”
Thanar tightened his hands on Thomas, and a moment later he withdrew his magic. The darkness of Thanar’s power flowed out of the corners of Thomas’s eyes like a dark cloud. As the black receded he looked more normal. Moments later he slumped forward into Thanar’s grip, unconscious.
Breathing harshly, Ciardis reached forward to feel for Thomas’s pulse at his throat.
Unease settled over them all. Meanwhile, Ciardis was helping the revived Thomas to sit back. “What?” he said, looking around slowly and blanching at the sight of Thanar kneeling so close in front of him. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Ciardis said.
Thomas shook his head in confusion. “No. Remember what? The last thing I remember is seeing you come toward me in the ballroom.”
Then he shook his head like a dog getting rid of water. “What happened to my stutter?”
They all exchanged dark looks.
“It’s gone,” said Thomas as he brought his hand up to touch his mouth in astonishment.
He looked around. “Where are we?”
Then he spotted the streaks of blood on Ciardis’s gown. “Did something happen?”
Chapter 6
Aside from the rather unfortunate ruin of her new gown, not one of them looked the least bit sane. Vana had her knives out. Kane’s side was blood-splattered. And Thanar looked severely disgruntled at the interruption of his magic. Ciardis tentatively put her hand out to touch Thomas, but yanked it back as he skittered away violently. Unfortunately that only brought him closer to Thanar behind him. Thomas seemed to realize that as he scurried to the side.
“What about your powers? Why did you try to hurt Inga?” said Thanar as non-threateningly as possible. Which meant a thin, teeth-filled smile and a less moody glare. It didn’t really work.
“What? Who’s Inga?” said Thomas.
Vana swore. “This is getting us nowhere. He needs time to remember and we need to get out of here. Now.”
Thomas swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed conspicuously as he said, “I hurt her? And him?” The pain on his face made Ciardis wish she could say no, that it was someone else.
“He’s in no condition to be left alone. We have to take him with us,” Ciardis said firmly.
Kane said, “Then let’s go.”
When Ciardis’s eyes lingered too long on the scar on his open chest where Inga’s sharp blade had torn into him, Kane flashed a wan grin at her. “Nothing but a cut.”
She gave him a wobbly smile. “Of course, right. But you’ve forgotten that I saw that cut before it was healed. If Inga doesn’t tear herself apart for nearly killing you, she’ll tear you apart for not getting out of the way fast enough.”
Kane looked uneasy. “She just might. She’s always on me about being on the defensive.”
“Even with her,” said Caemon. Ciardis had to admit Inga often pushed Kane to be on the defensive, particularly while they trained.
“All right,” said Vana. “I’ll get some guards to carry Inga. Everyone else, you can make your own way.”
Ciardis swallowed. “How? In case you forgotten, we’re surrounded by courtiers, my mother’s missing, and I doubt the imperial guardsmen are going to let us go just like that. At the very least we’ll have to answer for the profuse amount of blood littering their marble, and they’ll want to know who practiced such dark magic that would make a frost giantess go crazy.”
“Are you so sure?” Vana said with raised eyebrows.
“Well, they’ll want to know who practiced such dark magic without their approval,” amended Ciardis. The guards probably wouldn’t care about a potentially insane kith.
Darkly, Caemon said, “Are we so sure it wasn’t approved?”
What was left unsaid was that only the emperor could approve of such a messy kill in the middle of his ball.
Ciardis looked around her at the grave faces encircling Thomas. “My, you are a cheerful lot today.”
They all looked back at her with frowns, none of them amused.
“Fine,” she said. “Is there a way for the group of us to get out of here together without drawing attention?”
Vana looked thoughtful for a moment. “I believe there is.”
“Really?” Ciardis said.
Vana raised an eyebrow. “You have no faith, my young friend. Or did you want to stick around for the fireworks and crumpets?”
Ciardis’s pleasure at being referred to as Vana’s friend was rapidly displaced by the sarcasm dripping from her words.
Ciardis flushed. “No, but how do you expect to get a man covered in blood, an unconscious frost giant, and a mentally ill mage—whom we didn’t arrive with, by the way—through the crowds, outside to the carriage, and home without a fuss?”
Vana smiled. “I have my ways.”
Ciardis groaned inwardly. It wasn’t often that she liked Vana’s ways. They often ended with Ciardis in stitches with cuts, bruises, pains, and aches.
Vana turned to Thanar. “When I give the word, drop the sight and sound shield. Caemon—be ready.”
Caemon looked over at Vana with a slightly frustrated look on his face. “Ready for what?”
“To do what you do best,” she replied.
Vana sheathed her knives and raised her hands in the air. Purple mist began to gather in her palms. Excitement began to gather in Ciardis’s stomach. As much as she wanted to deny it, this was much more interesting than dancing her way through a dreary ball.
“What exactly are you going to do?” she asked.
“Call in the cavalry,” Vana said. “Caemon, if you’d please assist me. I’ll need a boost.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Ciardis watched the unhappiness on his face as he raised a hand and placed it on Vana’s shoulder. Suddenly Vana’s magic flared, the purple mist burst from her palms in a thick and visible cloud and arced up to the top of the dome, encasing them all. It spread out like sulfur and smelled worse. As they all hunched over, coughing into the thick mist that was making their eyes tear up, their noses run, and their throats sore, Ciardis had a minute to regret everything that had come to pass in her life. Who else would manage to acquire a perfect new ball gown only to have it returned bloodstained with a need to be fumigated in the same night?
“Now,” shouted Vana from inside the cloud.
Thanar dropped the shields. The mist poured outward to encase the entire ballroom in a thick cloud. Confusion reigned. Guests began shrieking and coughing. Some began to run away from the alcove towards the larger ballroom. To Ciardis’s consternation she heard footsteps running toward their group. Booted footsteps. Lots of them. The mist began to lighten where they stood as Vana forced it outward, effectively corralling the curious guests away from their area. When her teary eyes cleared and she could stand up to attend to the snot running down her face, Ciardis paled at what she saw. They stood surrounded by a semi-circle of...servants. Armed servants. They all carried knives and swords. These weren’t the servants that attended the meals. No, only the children from the noble families attended the service as pages to refill goblets of wine, juice, and water for the very people they sought to emulate as adults and who often served as their guardians. Even the butlers and the maids were highly trained individuals who had served their entire careers either in the palace or highborn houses. But
these people, they were from the lower classes—washwomen, stablemen and kitchen help. One man still had a bloodstained apron on and a towel thrown over his shoulder from his work as a butcher. All that was missing was the giant cleaver and the wrack of meat in front of him.
“Vana?” asked Caemon with some awe.
“Meet my team,” Vana said proudly. “Now let’s get out here.”
“We can’t leave my mother,” argued Ciardis.
Vana nodded at something in the distance. Ciardis turned to see Lillian being led forward by the hand of a determined waif of a girl who was covered in flour from head to toe. Lillian looked down at her captor with some amusement as well as distaste as she was led forward—or rather dragged where the waif wanted her to go—that is, until she saw what waited her near the alcove. The smiled quickly slipped from her face.
“What happened?” she spluttered.
They all exchanged glances and pointed at the confused boy sitting in the corner with Thanar looming over him.
The young waif dropped her hand.
She strode up to Vana proudly, disregarded the profusion of knives on her person, and demanded, “Fifteen shillings. You told me to get the one in the dark blue dress with feathers in her hair—I got her.”
Vana raised an eyebrow but handed the pouch over without comment. The waif smiled, sniffed, and disappeared through a servant corridor in the blink of an eye.
Told her when? wondered Ciardis.
“I suppose you want us to follow her?” Kane said with sarcasm.
“Oh no,” said Vana with a smirk. “We’re going straight through the ballroom.”
“We are?” echoed five surprised voices.
Vana snapped her fingers and directed four of her servants to the incapacitated frost giant.
“Even with four of them, that’s not going to be easy,” said Lillian.
“The butcher’s a lightweight,” pointed out Vana.
“Wouldn’t that make it worse?” asked Ciardis.
“Not that kind of lightweight,” said Kane. “He has the power to displace the weight of an object with magic. A good skill on a construction site or in the ship docking business. And usually very hard to come by. In fact, the last one I heard of was traveling with a crew of mercenaries on the emperor’s road.”
