Serpent's Bane (Snakesblood Saga Book 3)

by Beth Alvarez

  It took effort not to show his anger, but Nondar allowed himself a quiet scoff. “They have a number of surprises in store for them.” He pushed himself from his chair, wishing he didn't have to strain to stand up straight. He took his cane as he lurched toward the door. “I have plans for the temple. There's no need for the two of you to worry. You will have my successor's name in writing and marked with the queen's seal soon enough. I only need the time to pen it.”

  Neither woman spoke and he smiled bitterly to himself as he walked, wondering if either one realized he could no longer hold a pen.

  He opened the door. Just outside it, Kytenia squeaked and leaped to her feet. Surprised, Nondar moved into the hall and shut the door behind him. “Heavens, child, didn't I tell you to see to your studies?”

  “You did, Archmage.” She brushed wrinkles out of her robes and tried to smile. “But I thought you might need me sooner rather than later, and—”

  “Well, it's good you stayed,” Nondar interrupted with a sniff. “I need you to fetch two magelings for me. Find Ellaith and Rikka and bring them to my private quarters.”

  Kytenia started to leave, but Nondar caught her sleeve and she froze in place. “One more thing,” he said. “Bring fine paper and one of those nice pens from my old classroom, the ones with the brass nibs.”

  “Yes, Archmage.” She bobbed her head in deference before she sprinted down the hall.

  Sighing, Nondar made his way back to his quarters. He rarely walked the halls alone anymore, and when he did, he found himself saddened by how difficult it was to move. He didn't remember growing old; it had crept up on him while he was distracted, while he thought he had more time. He would have liked to return to the mainland one last time, perhaps visit friends. He'd not been there in ages. Not since the founding of the temple and Lomithrandel's creation. The thought made him shudder.

  If he could change one decision, it would have been that. Had he never been involved in that abomination of a project, he could have gone to his grave with a clear conscience. But there was no way to change it now, and with the poor wretch escaped, rather than executed, at least he could sleep easy. Idly, Nondar wondered where the boy had gone. He'd vanished without a trace, not a hair or scale to be seen on Elenhiise again. The mainland was Nondar's only guess.

  Frowning, the Archmage rested a hand against the wall to aid his balance. The mainland came to his thoughts often now. There was a reason it kept coming to mind, something that made it hover on the edge of his awareness. But the thought always escaped when he tried to grasp it, slipping through his fingers like the smoke trail of a snuffed candle. He tried not to think of it again. There were more pressing matters at hand.

  He left the door open as he slipped into his quarters and settled at the small table usually reserved for meals.

  It did not take long for Kytenia to arrive at his doorstep, flanked by the other two magelings he'd summoned. All three looked bewildered. The Archmage didn't summon magelings often, except for errands, and there was no reason to call three of them at once for that. He gave a wry smile as he waved them into his quarters.

  “No need to close the doors, girls, I'll be brief. Did you bring the paper, Kytenia? Ah, good. Bring it here.” He folded his hands together and studied their faces with a hint of amusement. They thought they were in trouble, he realized; Kytenia and Rikka kept exchanging glances that made him wonder if they'd done something they oughtn't. Then again, he reminded himself, the two of them were better behaved than Firal had ever been. If anything, they had stayed up after lights were to be put out.

  “Do you know why I've called you here?” He knew they didn't, but after seeing the way Rikka and Kytenia looked at each other, he couldn't help but ruffle their feathers. Their expressions became alarmed, while Ellaith looked confused.

  “No, Archmage,” Rikka said finally, ducking her eyes and tucking a strand of her fiery hair behind her ear.

  “The three of you have been called because you all have something in common. I've just left a meeting with Masters Anaide and Edagan. After a review of the state of your studies and behavior, we've reached an agreement.” Nondar paused just long enough to let them shift in discomfort, then smirked. “From this moment forward, the three of you are Kirban Temple's newest blue magelings.”

  Rikka's jaw went slack. Ellaith clapped a hand to her chest and exhaled in relief. Kytenia only stared at him with wide eyes.

  “The three of you will begin study under me immediately,” Nondar continued. “Under normal circumstances, I would extend this offer only to magelings with a healing affinity. However, Rikka, I understand that you strive to take a profession in healing despite your affinity being air. This puts you at a disadvantage, but I am confident you will still benefit from our lessons.”

  Rikka flushed to the tips of her ears. “Thank you, Archmage!” she cried, bouncing on the tips of her toes.

  He motioned for her to settle. “Our lessons will begin first thing in the morning, with all three of you meeting me here. Kytenia, write an official order for me?”

  “Of course, Archmage.” Kytenia gulped as she dropped into a chair at the table and spread out the paper, pens, and ink she'd gathered.

  Nondar cleared his throat. “On this, the twenty-third day of the eleventh month, first year of the rule of Queen Firal of the Penedhionn bloodline, let it be known that Rikka of the green robes, Ellaith of the green robes, and Kytenia of the green robes have been found worthy. By decree of the Archmage and his council, they are elevated to status of Blue Mage, effective immediately.” He paused and leaned forward to watch as she finished writing. He held out his hand and Kytenia gave him the pen. He struggled to hold it steady, bracing his arm with his other hand to scrawl his name at the bottom of the page.

  The magelings beamed as he finished and blew on the ink to dry it.

  “Now,” he said, passing the pen back to Kytenia. “Rikka and Ellaith, the two of you may go to the storerooms and request your robes. Take this notice with you and leave it with the woman working the storerooms today. I'll have Kytenia bring it back. Kytenia, I have another dictation to make, if you would stay.”

  “Of course, Archmage.” Kytenia flashed a grin to the other girls as they curtsied and murmured thanks.

  “Close the door behind you!” Nondar called after them. It slammed closed and he grimaced. He couldn't blame the girls for being excited, but he wished they would remember their manners.

  Kytenia dipped the pen into the inkwell and held it ready above a fresh sheet of paper. “What shall I write for you, Archmage?”

  “Something urgent, I'm afraid.” A grim look settled on his face.

  He'd spent so much time in reflection, yet he still worried about his choice. He knew the importance of declaring his successor, but even after weighing the merits of Anaide and Edagan and reaching his decision, he worried what would happen after the formal proclamation. Would the mages turn on each other if they didn't like his choice? They hadn't turned on him, but they'd also known how fragile his health had grown. Closing his eyes, Nondar drew a breath and gripped his cane until his knuckles turned white.

  “On this, the twenty-third day of the eleventh month, first year of the rule of Queen Firal of the Penedhionn bloodline,” he started, willing himself to relax and speak slowly. The declaration had to be made, whether or not he was ready. “Let it be known that the Archmage, Nondar of the Parthanus bloodline, officially declares selection of his successor. Upon his death,” he cringed at the weight of the word, “the title and rank of Archmage, leadership of Kirban Temple, and the permanent position of Adviser to the Queen, shall fall...”

  Kytenia glanced up as he paused.

  The Archmage smiled. “...to Kytenia Silaron.”

  18

  Rhyllyn

  Alira couldn't make herself watch. It was bad enough she was here, that she was involved, without having to watch the others prepare for the experiment. She heard them opening the crate but couldn't bring hersel
f to look. She stared at the table before her instead.

  The table was no better. Crudely fitted with straps and ropes, it looked like something out of a torture chamber. Perhaps it was, she thought, clutching the skirt of her robes to keep her hands from shaking.

  Behind her, the child wept. Alira flinched at the crack of flesh on flesh when one of the others struck him.

  She should have run. She should have abandoned the Grand College when it became clear Envesi wouldn't let her escape this. Melora might have been all right with the former Archmage's schemes, but Alira was not—not when an innocent child was involved.

  It was too late to flee now. The others would strike her down before she made it out the door. If there weren't two of them, she might have a chance.

  If there weren't two of them, she might have tried.

  “Children are such wretched creatures,” Envesi grumbled as she dragged the boy from the crate with Melora's help. Alira couldn't help but glance their way. She didn't know how the boy had come to be in the crate, or the crate in the shack beyond the city's limits. She did not want to know.

  He wasn't a large boy, or very old; Alira guessed he couldn't have been more than six. She thought him human at first glance, but the spark of a budding Gift glowed in her senses when they brought him near. He was of Eldani descent, then. It was just so diluted that his ears bore no hint of a point.

  The child's knees buckled and the two mages let his legs drag against the floor as they pulled him across the room. He had no fight left in him. Ugly welts marred the exposed flesh of his arms and legs. Together, the two women wrestled him onto the table.

  “Alira, the straps,” Melora snapped, jolting her out of her thoughts.

  Alira swallowed hard and, with trembling fingers, buckled the child's legs in place.

  Envesi stuffed a rag into his mouth and dusted her hands together. “That ought to keep the wretch quiet. We may be beyond where the college mages can feel us working, but there's bound to be someone near enough to hear if he shouts.”

  That they perform their experiments outside the city had been one of Headmaster Tolmarni’s requirements. Though the Archmage of Lore granted them permission to practice unbinding, it was clear he did not want their efforts associated with the college. Should they be caught, it would be elsewhere, outside his immediate control.

  The headmaster had allowed them a considerable amount of freedom when it came to research, but not practice. Envesi had insisted on examining a number of mages in the Grand College, volunteers who hadn’t yet earned the right to gray robes, but they had only studied—they hadn’t tried to unbind any of them. Envesi said the means for experimentation would be provided, but Alira hadn’t expected this.

  The former Archmage checked the straps as Alira moved to the head of the table. “Shall we begin?”

  “Yes, Envesi,” Melora said, standing at the table’s foot.

  Alira stared down at the boy's face. Wet trails glistened on his cheeks, pale stripes in the dust that coated his skin. His bright blue eyes shone with fear. Her heart wrenched and she wiped away his tears.

  “Alira?” Envesi prompted.

  “Yes, Envesi,” Alira replied hastily, tearing her eyes from the child again.

  “Good.” The former Archmage sniffed, pushing up the sleeves of her dull gray robes. She tied her energies with Melora first and Alira resisted the urge to shrink from their combined strength. Then Envesi caught her in the net of power, too.

  Alira gasped as the woman reeled her in. She'd thought her involvement would require her to participate directly. Instead, Envesi siphoned power through with such speed and force that it made her head spin. A shadowy haze crept in on the edges of her vision.

  “Stay on your feet,” Envesi ordered. “Don't lose the link.”

  The darkness grew speckled. Stars flashed before her eyes and Alira squeezed them closed, bracing herself against the table.

  Envesi guided their combined energies on her own. The torrent of power filled the room with humming static and made Alira's hair stand on end. At the edge of her senses, their twined powers touched the spark of the boy's Gift. It burst and twinkled, ignited by the brush of power. Magic simmered within him, not linked with theirs, but snared by it.

  Dizziness made the room rock beneath her, but Alira struggled to stay upright as the former Archmage pushed instead of pulling, and the twined threads of their power caught on the boundary of the child's affinity. Envesi pushed until their power strained, then drew it all back so tight that every thread of energy became defined. The burn of magic grew brighter and brighter in Alira's senses, until she could hardly stand it.

  Then everything erupted into chaos, the torrent of power swirling too fast for Alira to follow. Whatever force Envesi commanded, the complicated twirls and turns were so far beyond her skill level that she couldn't comprehend the whirlpool of raw energy that threatened to sweep them all away.

  “It's twisting again!” Melora screeched. The older woman was right. Alira shuddered as everything seemed to go sideways, her field of vision warping, skewing.

  Raw energy lashed back against them, snapping the delicate threads that wove their magic together, flooding her with power so vile it made her stomach heave. Alira sagged against the edge of the table and clapped a hand to her mouth. Melora fell to the floor and retched.

  “No, no, no!” Envesi screamed. She pulled fistfuls of her white hair and gnashed her teeth, her eyes flashing with fury. “This was different! She wasn't even here!”

  The wave of nausea passed and Alira gulped, struggling to catch her breath as she forced her eyes to open.

  The boy still lay beneath her, his eyes closed, tears still streaking his dirty face. He trembled and jerked with silent sobs, unable to move beneath the straps that held him down. Melora was still on the floor. Only Envesi remained steady on her feet, though her face was twisted with anger.

  “Another failure.” The former Archmage released a heavy sigh. She struggled to compose herself. Her hands swept over her face as if to wipe away her emotions before she smoothed her hair. “I must report this to the headmaster. We simply cannot do this without more hands to control the flows. I will have Eyrion assign more mages to this project.”

  “You mean for us to try again?” Melora asked, voice thick with disbelief.

  “Within a few days, yes.” Envesi pulled down her sleeves and turned to the door. “I will find the headmaster and explain the situation. Take some time to compose yourselves, then dispose of the evidence before joining me.”

  Alira blinked. “Dispose of—”

  The former Archmage stepped outside and slammed the door.

  “She means the boy.” Melora's lip curled with a sneer. “Make it fast and put him out of his misery.”

  Alira looked down. When she saw the boy looking at her, her stomach gave a flop. His eyes were no longer human. They glowed a soft blue in the dim light of the shack, their centers slitted like a snake's. Yet they were more human than anything she'd ever seen. Fear and pleading warred within them.

  She looked at Melora. The older woman grasped the side of the table and dragged herself to her feet. She still panted, obviously weakened by the tainted magic that had struck them both. Muddy green scales caught Alira's eye. The child's arm. Alira swallowed against the knot in her stomach and met the boy's eyes again.

  “I can't.” She'd been foolish to go along with it this far. She wouldn't have innocent blood on her hands.

  “Then move over,” Melora growled. “I'll unmake him for you.”

  Alira stepped forward and put a protective arm across the boy's body.

  The older mage's eyes darkened. “It's bad enough that one exists. We can’t allow the second to live.”

  “I realize the difficulty Lomithrandel's existence caused for you,” Alira said. “But in this, I'm afraid Envesi has made a terrible mistake.”

  Melora's brows lifted. “What?”

  “She involved me.” Alira slammed her
palms together and a pulse of energy exploded outward. It struck the other woman hard. Melora pitched backward and hit the floor hard, a cry of pain escaping her throat.

  Grasping the flows around her and fighting back fear, Alira looped waves of air around the older mage to trap her in place. Then she spun to the table, jerked the straps free, and dragged the boy to his feet. He staggered and clung to her legs.

  “Traitor!” Melora shrieked, writhing against the air currents. Alira felt her prying at the flows, trying to wrest them from her grasp. Closely matched in strength as they were, the older mage still had the upper hand in skill. Alira darted forward to seize the woman by her robes and hair. Melora screeched as Alira hauled her to her feet and threw her against the table.

  Melora twisted with a cry of rage. Alira backhanded the old woman and strapped down her arms while she was stunned. Then she wheeled, caught the boy by the arm, and bolted for the door.

  “Alira!” Melora shrilled, flailing against her bonds. “I'll have your head for this! Envesi will—”

  Alira slammed the door on the woman's words and almost tripped over the child. She clamped a hand on his shoulder and spun him toward the north. “Run!”

  Frightened, the boy scrambled upright. He made it two steps before he stumbled, unable to move on his changed feet. Alira paced backwards, squeezed her eyes closed, and seized power. It seemed woefully inadequate after the torrent Envesi had pulled through her, but it was all she could do. She poured her focus into a single pinpoint. The shack erupted in flames with a deafening boom, and the force threw the boy to the ground.

  Alira swept him into her arms and ran. The boy clung to her neck and wept into her shoulder. Behind her, the magic-fueled flames grew into an inferno. She ran north from the coast until her legs could carry her no longer, but she did not dare stop. Envesi could not have gone far. Alira pulled energy from anything she could to replenish herself, not caring if she damaged or unmade anything in the process. All that mattered was running. Her chest ached and her arms burned from the weight of the child she carried. Her throat grew so dry that coughs racked her body.