Sarai couldn’t imagine when she would feel like eating ever again, but it was a nice gesture.
The dining hall was sparsely decorated, in comparison with the first day the ambassadors had arrived. No one had been allowed to do magic of any kind, so it was missing the magical sculptures and impressive ornamentation.
Magic powers. I have magic powers. Maybe that was why her stomach was upset. Maybe all that practice, all that experimenting and trying to do something was part of it. She glanced around the room. Maybe I’ll just go after all.
She scraped her chair back a few inches and glanced surreptitiously at Agnes, who was deep in conversation with the mage on her other side.
Just then, a glass tinkled, and the crowd quieted. Finn stood, tapping on his glass with his fork.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his eyes looked like they might be misting over. “This is the day we’ve all been working towards for the last ten years. The Macai have agreed to sign a treaty with us, to station a permanent ambassador here who will negotiate trade agreements. This is the first step towards reunification of the country we once were. The greatest country this world has ever seen. One hundred and ten years ago, we lost all of that in a terrible disaster. Today, we take the first step towards reclaiming all that we lost.”
He paused, and after a brief moment of silence, there was some polite, but unenthusiastic clapping that Finn acknowledged as if it were riotous applause. Sarai’s stomach curled up on itself and she placed a hand over it, suppressing a groan.
Can I still sneak out without anyone noticing? Yeah. Probably. Maybe under the table.
Finn unfurled a large scroll and held it up. It was nearly three feet long and filled with tiny writing. Probably a lot of Finn’s feelings and a lot of flowery language about how great the country was going to be, Sarai imagined.
He placed the scroll on a podium and gestured to Frewin, who stood, his back, as always, so ramrod straight that it looked like his upper half simply levitated from his seat. The guy must have quads of steel. The room was utterly silent as Frewin came to the podium. Something felt… off. Now that it was totally silent and all possibility of her sneaking out felt gone, Sarai noticed it. There was something off about Frewin.
His hands were clasped oddly in front of him as he approached, his left hand fingering the bare finger on his right hand, the one without the tattoo. His gaze swept the hall, caught Sarai’s, and he dropped his hands, then tugged at his collar.
Finn smiled widely and handed Frewin a large quill. His smile faltered as he took in the tension in Frewin’s demeanor, but he seemed to waive it off. Frewin took the quill without smiling, moved to stand in front of the podium, and placed both hands flat on the treaty. For several long seconds he looked at it.
He looked like he was about to speak, when behind him, Isabelle stood up with a shot.
“Can anyone use their magic right now?” Isabelle asked, her voice reverberating through the silence. Finn cringed.
“We’re not supposed to, right?” someone asked.
“Right, but, like, this guy is being super suspicious, so I tried to search him for weapons, and… I can’t do anything. Can anyone else?”
“Isabelle,” Finn started, but he was interrupted by the flurry of exclamations from the crowd.
“I can’t! Can you?”
“No.”
People were standing, looking around them.
“Is this about those monsters?”
“Is this something worse?”
Everyone was looking to Finn now.
“Finn did you do something?” Isabelle asked.
“No, of course not. Even then… what would I…” All eyes went to Frewin.
His expression was heavy. Suddenly, water began bubbling up from the floor, icy water that licked up their legs, climbing their torsos, freezing at it went.
Sarai yanked on her legs, but they were frozen, encased in ice. The water climbed higher and higher, locking her arms in place before she could think, climbing for her throat. There, it stopped. The ice burned her skin, first the ache of cold, then a quick slide into numbness. Around her, people were screaming and struggling. Fire mages were attempting to fight, but nothing would come.
Sarai pushed the pain out of her mind and turned her attention to the podium, where Frewin stood, calm and serious. Next to him, Finn was an ice statue with only his head visible, just like the rest of them. Sarai could see a deep blue light pulsing in Frewin’s chest now, with tendrils spreading to the mages around him, dark threads of shadow lancing back to him. He was a water mage. But not a good one, Sarai could see. His connections were tenuous, the shadow stronger than that of even the newest students here. She wondered if he’d even tried using magic before today. He must have practiced at least a little.
“I have some things to say to you,” Frewin began. “Not many, and it would take less time for me to say them than for you to suffocate. I’ve left your mouths uncovered so that you can breathe, but only so that you can focus enough to hear what I’m saying to you. If you interrupt me, I will accept that you refuse to listen, and I will kill you.” He looked around the room, as if waiting for someone to test him. No one did.
“You cannot use your magic because I have been adding copper dust to all the food here for the last week. I’ve tested it on myself over the years. I myself have been fasting, in preparation for this day.”
Maybe it wasn’t just anxiety that kept me out of the dining hall, Sarai thought. Maybe she’d sensed something from Frewin. Wish I’d thought more about it instead of just assuming it was me being antisocial as usual.
Very carefully, so as not to attract his attention, she reached out with her shadow, connected to those tendrils leaving the ice prisons, heading back to him. If I can just… what? Get control? Free everyone somehow? She couldn’t feel her legs or her arms, and she was shivering uncontrollably, her whole body jerking against the ice locked around it. Carefully, she began to wiggle her arms and legs, pressing against the ice, struggling to free herself.
Frewin continued. “I can understand the wish to use your powers. I, too, wished to use them, when I was young. But I recognized that the source of magic is evil. It is unpredictable, and by your own admission it was never truly meant for humans. You are playing with things you don’t deserve or understand, in order to make your lives easier without the true work required. Life requires sacrifice. You are all attempting to avoid that sacrifice through your own arrogance. You think you can succeed where our ancestors failed? Have you forgotten the death and destruction caused by the Fall? Have you forgotten the torture and subjugation of anyone who wasn’t a mage before that?” He looked at Finn. “I gave you a chance. I offered you a way to live your lives as mages, in peace.”
“You offered us a prison,” Finn interrupted.
The ice crept over Finn’s mouth and nose, sealing over his eyes and the top of his head. He was now fully encased in clear ice, his eyes wide, locked open. Only small movements were visible as he tried to fight against it, the ice holding him solidly in place. Frewin turned back to the watching crowd, as Finn’s movements became jerkier and jerkier.
“Self-righteous, arrogant ass—” Isabelle shouted behind him. Her arm broke free and she scrabbled against the prison, her nails scoring it, sending ice chips flying. The ice cut her off, sealing over her head, too, encasing the arm again. She didn’t jerk and struggle, though, only glared contemptuously at Frewin. Finn’s struggles were becoming weaker and weaker, his eyes beginning to glaze over. There were a few choked gasps from the watching mages, but no one else dared speak.
“I don’t want to kill you. But I can see that you won’t stop. You’re going to destroy the world for the rest of us. And so, I, Frewin Redwood, today make the ninth sacrifice. I sacrifice my own beliefs and morals for the greater good. I sully myself by using magic to destroy what magic itself has created. You were all warned.” He touched the bare spot on his finger, then lifte
d his hands.
Sarai felt a surge of magic from him. He was clearly struggling to control so much at once; the shadow was buckling inside him. She could feel how conflicted he was, how little he wanted to do what he was about to do, but he pushed it back down, feeding the shadow even further.
Screams erupted all around her. Agnes thrashed against her prison, blood leaking out of her eyes and nose, trickling down her cheeks and spattering onto the ice as she thrashed.
Sarai’s stomach twisted. He was pulling the blood from their bodies. She reached out, this time making no effort to be secretive, and let her instincts take over. She grasped the shadow, widening it, looping it around the threads of power that went to the ice prisons, and the threads that went to the blood that had begun pouring from the bodies of the mages. The blood continued to flow but lessened. Frewin gave a grunt of frustration and redoubled his efforts, his lips moving in a wordless prayer.
Sarai focused her efforts on her own bonds, clamping down hard as she struggled. Her attention slipped and a mage at the other end of the hall screamed, blood pouring from him in a huge, gushing wave. He slumped forward. Sarai punched an arm free, then turned her attention back to keeping Frewin from exsanguinating anyone else. Frewin’s gaze caught hers, his eyes widening as he saw her free arm. He licked his lips and she could feel the water attempting to reform around her.
Good. He was focusing in on her, losing focus on the other mages. She used her free arm to pull the ice away in chunks. It crumbled away and in a second her other arm was free.
Frewin was striding towards her, cutting a path through the frozen mages, drawing a long, curved blade as he went. Sarai reached for her dagger, but her hand hit ice. Her legs were still fully encased.
She tried to wrap some shadow around him, stop him, do something, but he didn’t seem to feel it, didn’t slow as he strode inexorably towards her.
“Whatever you’re doing, stop. This needs to happen.”
Sarai didn’t answer. She had no interest in debating insane people. Or anyone, really.
Sarai jerked her hips back and forth, attempting to pull herself free of the ice. She flailed, struggling with everything she had, twisting like a toddler having a meltdown.
He’s got you. I told you to be careful.
Shut up, Jeremy, I’m fine.
She clenched down on the shadow even tighter, leaving no concentration for freeing herself. She only flailed mindlessly, focusing all her energy on cutting off his magic. The ice prison around her started to soften. Almost imperceptibly, but here and there little droplets of meltwater began trickling down.
Frewin stopped in his tracks, looking around him. “What… what are you doing?” He shook himself, attempting to regain control. He sent a surge of water magic that broke Sarai’s hold, and the ice prisons reformed. “What are you?” he demanded.
Sarai scraped at the freezing ice with her aching and now bloody hands. She didn’t even bother to look up. The ice was attempting to reform around her, but before it could, she kicked one foot free and then the other.
Ha. Told you, Jeremy.
Sarai stepped out of the clinging, icy puddle, sending the water back, thrusting it away from her, and looked defiantly up at Frewin; her blade was already in her hand.
He looked like he was going to say something, but Sarai didn’t give him a chance. Her arm was back, the blade perfectly balanced between her frozen, raw fingertips, and with a grim concentration she brought her arm down, hurling it straight for his heart. She knew the blade flew true, could see it burying in his chest before it had even reached him.
Frewin lifted his hands in a panicked, self-protective gesture, but it wouldn’t work, even his hands weren’t fast enough. Inches before him, a frozen sheet of ice bloomed across his chest, and the dagger struck it and bounced off with a clang, clattering to the ground beneath him. He kicked it away, only a slight flicker of uncertainty betraying any pain he might have felt.
It’s fine, I don’t have to use magic to kill you, Sarai thought.
He was ten feet from her, then five, the blade rising above his head. His control was slipping again, the prisons melting; a few of the mages around them shook their heads woozily, blinking the blood out of their eyes and looking up.
He was expecting her to run, Sarai knew it. She could see the confidence in his eyes. He was nearly two feet taller than she was, his hair black like hers, his eyes cold, every muscle in his body perfectly formed, perfectly attuned.
At the last second, Sarai dodged forward, leaning in as if to embrace him, ducking in under the swinging blade. She felt it rustle her hair as it sliced past her head, less than an inch from connecting with her scalp. Not a killer, clearly. Who hacks at someone’s skull?
Sarai pivoted, the tiny dart leaving her fingers as her fingertips graced his neck so softly it was nearly a caress, and then she was behind him, feet planted firmly, heartbeat sure and steady.
He recovered quickly, so quickly she was almost impressed. Almost immediately he’d regained his balance, lifted his sword, and turned to face her, already moving in for another assault. Sarai didn’t move; she didn’t dodge. She watched the blade coming for her, the light lancing off its perfectly sharpened edge, noticed the runes etched into it, wondered briefly what they meant.
The blade dropped out of his hands, clattered to the ground, as he suddenly lost control of his legs. His body locked up as he fell at her feet, stiff and solid, his shoulder muscles giving one last twitch as he died.
The prisons around her began to melt, water running down their sides. Mages collapsed into blood-stained puddles.
Sarai found Agnes and bent over her. The girl was face down in an icy puddle, and Sarai grasped her shoulder, rolling her over. Her face was streaked with red, her eyes closed, her eyelashes wet with blood and flecks of ice.
Her hands shaking, Sarai wiped the ice and blood from Agnes’s face, from around her mouth. She bent down, listening, and a surge of warm relief hit her as she heard Agnes gasp. The girl’s eyes fluttered open, and for a second she stared blearily at Sarai, then at the bloody puddle she lay in. Shaking, her face white, her skin ashen, she pushed herself up to a seat and immediately threw up.
“Probably a good idea,” Sarai said. Although, she probably had plenty of copper in her system still.
All around them, people were beginning to wake. Someone was crying.
Agnes pushed herself fully up, swaying on unsteady legs, and began staggering from mage to mage, pulling up people who were unconscious, pulling mages out of puddles, making sure they could breathe.
Up on the stage, Finn burst out of his prison and lay shaking on the ground for half a second, before pushing himself up and dragging himself over to where Isabelle lay unconscious, face up in a puddle, her white hair soaked and red with blood, her eyes closed. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in towards him, giving a great howl of pain.
Her eyes shot open and she looked around, confused, then gingerly peeled herself out of Finn’s arms.
“Jeez, Finn, I’m fine, why are you… how are you still alive?”
“How am I still alive? How are you still alive?” Finn gasped, making a strangled sound between a laugh and a choking cry.
Isabelle shrugged. “Oh, I always have a backup air supply. It was one of the first things I made after that one time with Reina, remember?”
Finn nodded, halfway between laughing and crying as he hugged her to him, bowing his head over her chest.
“How are you alive, though?” Isabelle asked. “You were in there longer than I was.”
He looked guiltily away. “Oh… I… can’t die. It turns out…”
She glared at him, pushing back. “You’ve been trying to kill yourself, haven’t you? I told you we would figure something out!”
“I’m sorry, I just…Can we talk about this later? I suffocated to death and reanimated like three times in there.”
“No, we cannot talk about this later! You’ve been murderi
ng yourself without telling me!” Isabelle pushed herself angrily to her feet, her feet slipping in the still icy water.
Everywhere around them mages were crying, checking on each other.
“I’m sorry,” Finn said. “I won’t do it again.”
She glared at him, then her eyes swept the room. She made a gesture that clearly should have been accompanied by a small tornado, but nothing happened and her face went greener. Without another word, she stormed out.
Finn watched her go, the expression on his face a mixture of guilt and sadness.
The room quieted, as the one dead mage was found.
Finn instructed her to be carried away for a funeral up in Kel’s gardens later that evening. Then he stood. The mages looked at him expectantly, the room going quiet, except for the occasional sob. Finn’s eyes swept the room, he opened his mouth several times, then closed it. Without another word, without meeting anyone’s eyes, he walked out.
There was stunned silence after Finn left. Sarai moved to collect the dagger she had thrown, tucking it back into her belt. She noticed one of the mages watching her. He whispered something to the girl next to him, whose eyes widened and she, too, stared at Sarai.
Sarai tried to ignore this, began cutting back through the crowd, but now more and more of the mages were looking at her, outright staring at her.
“She saved us,” someone said. “She killed him.”
“I saw it, too,” another whispered.
Sarai blanched and slipped out the doors before anyone could say anything more.
46
Finn
The dam in Finn’s heart was breaking. He wasn’t sure if he could hold on. He knew he needed to stay, needed to fix this, needed to be the responsible leader who would get them through all this. And he would be. He would do this. He wasn’t going to give up. But he couldn’t do it alone anymore. He needed advice. And there was only one person he knew he could go to.
After the patrols were set, the guards posted, the mages sent to bed, and the remaining living ambassadors confined to their quarters under guard, Finn made his way down to the stables.
Shadow Mage Page 20
