by Mark August
“Father, back up. Now.” Her voice snapped with the command. Power flared in her eyes.
How could she know?
He was committed to his course of action. Kincaid let the power rush to his fingertips, and his hands glowed from within and then burst into open flames. The cellblock lit with green and red fires. Kincaid’s soul begged to release more power.
Joy turned to caution as he felt another stream of power in the room. The surge came from the sorceratti and matched the intensity of his inner fire.
Cloaks fluttered in the confines of the prison block, and air swirled in the room. Guards fumbled for their weapons, and the son cleared the pistol from his belt. A hammer clacked and locked back. The sound was a crack of thunder in Kincaid’s ears. The sorceratti glowed with purple energy, and her hands clenched into claws.
The Duke flung aside his cloak and grasped his own flintlock at his belt. The man moved with the confidence of a veteran warrior and showed no fear in his eyes. His hammer cocked and the barrel leveled at Kincaid’s heart.
Kincaid’s mind ignored the firearms and the leveled spears. He knew they were no threat to the power surging within. But the woman was the actual threat. She pulled in more magic as her cloak whipped behind her. His soul burned and longed to match power with this woman. His was the power of life and death.
Steel barrels exploded with thunder and fire. He watched the tongues of flame lick outward from the end of the barrels and saw the balls of lead blast toward his body. Life and death.
Kincaid willed his body to move from the path of destruction. His limbs surged into motion as the rush of power raged in his heart. A blast of air interrupted his reverie and caused the bars to rattle in their flagstones. The bullets slammed into the wall of air and splattered against the wind. Their power spent; the tinkle of metal hit the floor.
“Stand down, Kincaid. We have your sister. I will kill her myself.” The woman, the sorceratti, was the one in control. She mastered the air and created the wall. He couldn’t beat her. She defeated the bullets before his mind could make up the course of action he wanted.
Kill her. Kill them all. Rescue your sister.
Foolish thoughts. Strange words. From where? The magic brought power and joy to his heart and mind. His soul could handle more.
“Think about what you are doing, Kincaid.” Cormac’s voice seemed so far away. A distant noise in the roar of power surging in his ears. But he was right. This wasn’t working.
“I will not warn you again, journeyman.”
Father and son fumbled with pistols to load another round, and the guards stood helplessly at the exchange. Kincaid’s mind slowed and took in each person. He released the surge of power and let his hands fall to his sides.
“I understand your warning, and I submit.”
The Duke looked up from his pistol with surprise etched on his face. The younger man continued with his loading drill and didn’t stop until he was ready for another shot. Guards looked to each other and then the nobles for an idea for their next command.
Cold air returned to its place in the prison. Tension subsided, but the sorceratti held a grip on the power coursing through her soul. She watched every movement as Kincaid backed away from the bars and sat back on his pallet.
The Duke composed himself. “You used this power in the shop. You killed those men and women with this power. Magic.”
The bravado in the Duke’s voice vanished. He recognized the magic in the room outmatched him.
“I can feel your power ebb and flow, Kincaid. And I can hurt your sister from here. I will end her life without a thought. Consider your next option carefully.” The daughter’s voice was low and controlled. Her threats were promises, and he believed her.
“I understand. I’ll await my execution.” Kincaid lowered his gaze back to the floor and listened as the guards recovered their weapons. The locks clicked, and crossbars moved back into place.
Kincaid was out of choices.
As the noble party left, the guards glanced at each other and backed away from the cell block. Silence wasn’t a comfort to the despair clutching Kincaid’s heart. He had one chance, and the sorceratti was ready for him.
“We have a great deal to talk about, Kincaid.” Cormac’s voice was confident. The voice of a teacher.
Thirty-Eight
Vedette - Prison Plan
Vedette threw her gloves on the formal table in the Great Hall. Exasperated by the clasp shaped like a lion, she wrenched her cloak from around her neck, rolled the flowing red cloth into a pile, and hurled it into the chair. She spun on her father.
“Why did you shoot?”
Her father slipped the flintlock pistol from his belt and lay it on the table. He unclipped the sword and scabbard and laid them across the arm of the chair. Eyeing his daughter, he unlatched his ornate clasp to remove his cloak and draped it on the back of the chair at the head of the table.
Wood popped in the stoves of the Great Hall, marking the passage of time.
Vedette waited.
“Perhaps you didn’t notice the prisoner’s hands glowing with magical fire? He planned to fight his way out of that cell.”
She took two steps closer to him. “Did you feel the wind inside the prison?”
“Of course.”
“That was my magic, summoned and ready. I warned you to stand back. Instead, you shot at him.”
“He’s sentenced to die.”
She threw her hands into the air. “Cormac and I were standing there. An untrained wizard in his cell—”
“Untrained? He tore down the inside of a building, killed several people, and summoned fire in his hands in the presence of our family. I don’t think we share the certainty that he’s not trained, Vedette.”
Vedette paced the length of the hall. Elaborate tapestries from world-wide sources covered the bare stone. The art didn’t draw her attention as her mind replayed the engagement with the prisoner, Kincaid.
Firearms were unnecessary. But her father had a point about the training. She finished her lap around the hall to make her way back to her waiting father and conceded.
“That may be true—”
“It is true. With certainty, we have another wizard in our midst. But we don’t know his intentions.”
“Father, as the family sorceratti—”
“Spare me the lecture, daughter.”
Vedette couldn’t hold back the flush in her cheeks. Blood pounded in her veins, and she knew with a thought magic would be in her soul. “Don’t you dare. There is only one sorceratti in Caesea that killed another human being with magic. Due to your brilliant plan, the only other wizard with the knowledge and skill to help us is sealed in your prison. We already have an advantage over every house in the city.”
Her father clenched his hands into fists. “What exactly does my wise counselor on the use of magic have in mind with our prisoner? Have the carpenter help me get elected to another term as the Duke? Lead armies into battle against our external enemies? Hmmm?”
Vedette broke eye contact and stepped back. She’d never seen him this mad before. Maybe it was fear. “No.”
“Then what, Vedette?”
Vedette smoothed her dress with her hands and looked him in the face. “If you kill the man in our prison, we have far more questions left than answers. All we know is the man can use magic. We know nothing about my assassin, what happened in that shop, and what else he might know. We don’t get answers if balls of lead splatter his brains against the cell walls.”
Attius’ face relaxed, and he took a deep breath to control his breathing. Vedette counted that as a win. Only her mother could get him to change course once he decided.
“I’m not sure we need those answers, Vedette. The City Council is looking for an execution. I can give them a show and give them what we know.”
“We have his sister, and we have an opportunity. Our city hasn’t wielded magic against another house in its history. We are in a critical plac
e with the events already in motion. A lead ball can’t solve this threat.”
Her statement met silence. Better than she hoped.
The corners of his mouth rose into a smile. “Do you know how much you are like your mother?”
“Except for my destiny to be a sorceratti for the family until the day I die. Yes.”
He chuckled with her retort. “I’m trying to apologize.”
She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Apology accepted, although they usually start with, I’m sorry.” Vedette performed a proper curtsy as her father bowed deeply from the waist, his face glowing with a playful smile. “But, Father, I’ll listen and try to live up to my role. We need to know more about this new wizard.”
“He’s clearly powerful.”
“I noticed. But that means we must use our leverage against him.”
“His sister or his carpentry master?”
“Yes. To both. He doesn’t know what happened to his master. But we can manipulate him as long as we threaten his sister.”
“You would have been an amazing firstborn child, Vedette.”
“I’m proud to be the sorceratti. You need a trained sorcerer more than another child in the line of succession.”
“So, how do you propose getting more information?”
“You shot at him, so I have to be the primary interrogator. I also need to keep the sister in a place where we can threaten him. A guard or two with ranged weapons should be sufficient. He doesn’t have the strength to take that many on at the same time.”
Attius brought his hand to his chin and rubbed his fingers along the stubble. After his mental calculations, he shook his head.
“I don’t like this.”
“Cormac is in the next cell, Father.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid you need to let me use him. The magi can counter anything the prisoner can do. And if I’m there, the inexperienced man will realize his odds are hopeless.”
This time her father looked away. “Cormac doesn’t have access to his magic. He is of no use to you as a wizard in those cells.”
“What?”
“Cormac forged the chains to prevent a wizard from using his magic.”
Thirty-Nine
Kincaid - Confession
“When will they kill me, Cormac?”
Kincaid buried his face in the palms of his hands as he sat in the middle of his straw. He was too thirsty to have tears well in his eyes. His hands covered his face as protection from the gloom in his soul and his cell.
“That was an unbelievable display, Kincaid.”
“So amazing I was almost shot by the Duke and his son.”
Cormac was on his feet and at the end of his restraint’s travel. His eyes had the intensity again to them, and he hushed his voice to avoid attracting attention.
“You proved your point.”
“Yes, I’m a threat to the entire city. I wanted to fight my way out of here and get my sister back, and I’m still a prisoner. Now a terrifying one.”
“The Duke doesn’t judge you and your talents that way. He is calculating how much of an asset you can be to his plans.”
Kincaid lifted his head up from his hands and raised an eyebrow. “A pawn in his game?”
“Kincaid, you’re in a world of power and intrigue you don’t understand. The stakes are higher than anything you can imagine. You could make yourself king.”
“By killing the Duke, his son, and his daughter. Forgive my skepticism.”
“The city will discover House Atros controls a powerful wizard. You can change the rules to all the games, Kincaid.” The eagerness in his voice slipped between bars. But Kincaid wasn’t fertile ground for aspiring ideas.
“At least my time in jail will be short.” He leaned back until his spine contacted the frigid wall and began counting the stones in the ceiling again.
Cormac’s voice was firm now. “Kincaid, when you feel the magic, what does it seem like to you?”
“Does it matter?”
“I hope so. Wizards take various roles in different parts of the world. The sorceratti of Caesea use their power in the interest of their families. More importantly, they are the balance of power between them. At least until you showed up. But how you feel about magic makes a distinction in your role.”
“You know all this? A fellow prisoner.”
“My question first. Then I’ll answer yours.” By now, Cormac would typically have sat down for their exchange. He had energy today.
Kincaid got up and paced his cell. “I can feel the power. I don’t know how to describe it any other way. It’s just out of my consciousness, and I have to reach out with my mind, heart, and soul. What scares me is when it reaches back to me.”
“It reaches back?” The chains rattled and stretched as Cormac tested their length. Kincaid’s arms pulled back as Cormac’s chains tightened.
“The only way I can describe it.”
“Kincaid, you may be a unique wizard.”
“I didn’t ask for magic. I didn’t want to be in this prison with you.” Kincaid closed the gap as best he could. He stood at the edge of the bars and was face-to-face across the cell block.
“That may be true, but you also must consider that there is more at play now than what you want. The Duke will not let you walk out of here and become a carpenter again.”
The straightforward logic of the words muted Kincaid for several minutes.
“Then what do I do?”
“Learn.”
“Great. Let me ask for a leave of absence so I can attend the closest wizard school. Perhaps you have an invitation for me?”
“No. But I have something better.”
“I can’t wait. Please share those theories about teaching children of noble families.”
“Done with your tantrum now?” Command edged each word, and the tone and pace sounded like a speech Cormac delivered before. Kincaid raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Yes. Why?”
“Kincaid, I am Magi Cormac. I’ve taught the sorceratti of the noble houses of Caesea for thirty years. I began my education in magic in the north until I traveled across the Northern States to come here. Now I’m closed in a prison with the only person in the world who can help me escape.”
Kincaid’s surprise crept to anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? Your prison mate was also a wizard? The powers at his command could bring down this prison and allow them to escape to the farthest reach of the earth?”
“I would have.”
“Really?” Cormac snorted. “The number of times I asked you about what happened in that shop, and you didn’t even consider telling me the story. And you accuse me?”
“I’m just a—”
“Wizard. One with an ability I’ve never discovered in decades of magic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Magic is a force, Kincaid. Each wizard bends the power to his or her will and thoughts. Some can do things at the deepest expanses of imagination, and others struggle to light a candle.”
“Appears I can do far more than just the candle thing.”
“Without question. But no one ever mentioned arcane power having its own will. I’ve never experienced that.”
Kincaid thought about all the variables in his life. He thought the time training to beat the thugs was the most exciting thing he’d done. In those moments on the practice field, he was alive.
Now he confronted death at a time of the Duke’s choosing. The powers he could touch were just beyond his reach. Magic was there, calling to him in his mind. He could summon that force, and no one would stop him.
“Don’t pull the magic, Kincaid.” The command barked across the distance. Kincaid jumped from his trance and gripped the bars.
“How did you know I was trying to summon that power?”
“I am a Magi. I’ve taught countless students the skills and theory of magic. I know the look of a novice exp
loring power. If only they could touch magic, everything will change.”
Kincaid nodded his head. The magi was right.
“Kincaid, the rulers of this house will be back. They are scared and confused. Those emotions will trigger a plan that will include violence. You need to spend less time talking and more time learning.”
Kincaid nodded.
“Good. What else can you tell me about your use of magic?”
“When I was in the fight for my life in the carpentry shop, I held so much power. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was filled with passion, and all I saw was my sister in danger. And I heard a voice right before I blacked out.”
Forty
Vedette - Mother's Advice
The tailors couldn’t keep up with the torn cloaks in Vedette’s closet. At least she didn’t damage the crafted clasps. She’d hear about the expense to repair the fine metalwork, and she’d only catch a few looks about the torn material. She was afraid her mother was here to reprimand her for her actions with her father.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Vedette.” Her mother stood with her hands fidgeting, unable to control the nervous energy.
Vedette was unnerved by the slip in her mother’s controlled posture. “No one else does either, Mom. But that doesn’t change what needs to be done.”
“But you are planning on going into our prison with two wizards. One of them we know is dangerous and explosive, and the other we don’t trust.”
“In your mind, which is which?”
“Seriously. Your father—”
“Father should’ve considered what he was doing when he imprisoned the city’s mentor for all things concerning magic. That was before we knew about the carpentry thing. He shackled my teacher, and then the replacement tried to kill me. Then the shop thing happened.”
Her mother helped with the clasp and adjusted the cloak on her shoulders. Her fingertips danced across the side of Vedette’s face to push away stray wisps of hair. She smiled and cupped her daughter’s face.