by Mark August
“Lord Gordio, I’m disappointed you think I would manipulate the City Council’s decision. You’ve already voted, unanimously, to remove me from the position of Duke.”
“Yes, and revenge is an excellent motive for any noble family.” Lady Enna said. She was enjoying her display of power.
Attius couldn’t keep his fist unclenched as he leaned forward to stare down the length of the Council table. “And you should have considered that outcome before you voted to remove me from my elected position.”
“All the more reason the decision should stand.” The young woman smirked.
“Enough.” The gavel slammed down. The new Duchess looked left and right down the table, daring someone to challenge her. “As we have said, we are done with this discussion.”
“My lady, I oppose this movement.”
“If you bring this up again, Attius, I will have the sergeant at arms remove you from the Council chambers. We will ask your house to elect a new representative, and we will ban you from city matters.”
“My lady, that’s unprecedented.”
“You leave me no other options. Do you understand the consequences?”
Attius winced at the choice of words. She practiced this speech as he walked into her trap. He understood the position he now occupied among his peers.
“My lady, members of the City Council, I understand.” Surrender was not in Attius’s genetic makeup, but a hopeless fight for no gain was also against his training and experience.
The Duchess turned to the scribe and said, “Master of ceremonies, please state the Council decision on the matter of Kincaid, journeyman carpenter.”
“To the members of the City Council, let it be known that the city laws for the use of magic outside of the ruling houses will be upheld in two days. Kincaid the carpenter is to be executed by a vote of 6 to 1.”
The Duchess leaned forward and looked down the table at Attius. He ignored her as he unclenched his fists and kept his gaze focused on the entrance to the chamber. He wisely but reluctantly did not say a word.
“Now, we must carry on with the rest of the city business.”
“What happens to the girl?” asked Lady Zonara.
Attius hid his surprise, but the corners of his mouth turned upwards. House Gaelus played their cards carefully, and the power struggles began. Each house would test where they stood under this new leadership. Alliances would form, and Attius noted his first and longest-lasting ally.
The Duchess responded quickly, “We will release her when the execution is complete. I do not see why we would detain her.”
Lady Zonara responded with a murmur just loud enough for the members of the table to hear her displeasure and concern.
The Duchess couldn’t refrain from an eye roll as she looked to her right, “Lady Zonara, what is your concern with the sister?”
“What if she is an unknown and untested wizard like her brother? Magic runs in our ruling families.”
The Duchess drew in a deep breath and reached for the gavel. Attius hid his smile behind his hand and was already pleased with the outcome.
The chamber doors slammed open and caused the Council to jump in their seats. Guards sprinted to form a wall of spears in the Council’s defense. The sergeant at arms barked commands.
Peering between the wall of guards, Attius noticed two guards pushing their way forward. Both newcomers wore the red colors and golden lion of House Atros. One was one of Atros’ sergeants.
Attius’ command still carried weight. “Let them pass.”
The sergeant at arms did not immediately obey the command, and Attius would remember his face. The leader of the defensive formation turned to face the Duchess as the standoff continued. The Duchess gave the sergeant a nod, and commands passed for the guards to stand down.
The pair were breathless and covered with soot and dirt as they approached to salute their Lord.
“My Lord, the lady of the house wishes to inform you that there is a fire on the premises.”
“Where?”
The sergeant looked up to the City Council and relayed, “The prison, my Lord.”
Attius didn’t wait for the commotion to begin as he was already in motion. He put a hand on the sergeant’s arm and pulled toward the door. The pace broke into a run.
Attius didn’t wait for permission to leave the Duchess of Caesea.
Fifty-Six
Kincaid - Escape
Kincaid looked down at the guards’ bodies in the cell block. The fire from the makeshift pyre only needed a nudge of arcane power to create a cloud of smoke. By the time the guards realized their danger, the smoke had completed its work. He had a few precious moments before someone in the courtyard called for a response.
All the while, arcane power begged for release. The surge of energy pushed Kincaid’s senses beyond human limits. The hairs on his arms swayed in the eddies of air currents stirred by the heat of the fire. He analyzed the remaining problem of his escape. Even with enough power to destroy several islands, he wouldn’t stay hidden with the rotting clothes on his back.
Over the roar of the arcane-infused flames already racing through this quarter of the prison, Kincaid heard the bolt of the prison slam open. Of course, they would investigate the fire. He wondered if the house had plans to rescue the prisoners or only the guards.
Kincaid couldn’t see through the smoke billowing toward the opening door. Instead, he heard the footfalls of two guards. The magi created a small breeze to identify the approaching threat and noticed neither guard entered the prison with weapons. One gathered his bearings and sprinted toward the guard room at the other end of the prison. The other strode to the prison block. Escape would be more complicated.
Kincaid pulled in the heat of the raging flames around him and harnessed the smoke into a cloud of concealment. Magic in his soul howled in delight as Kincaid manipulated the streams of energy.
He heard a guard, a woman with lighter footsteps and shorter strides, approach the cell block with her right hand feeling the wall and bars for guidance. She called out names and coughed from the effort. Kincaid’s clothes smoldered, but the heat never touched his skin.
She entered the cloud and gripped the iron bars in her fist. Kincaid unleashed a column of fire from the floor that leaped upward with enough force to punch through the stone ceiling. The woman never felt the pain of her immolation, and her body turned to ash.
The horror of his actions could not fight its way through the magic claiming the power of a stolen soul. Kincaid was alive, and she was not. He was stronger than death itself. His lips curled into a snarl as he imagined the destruction of House Atros. Bring the whole block up in flames.
Then the vision returned.
Your destiny. Begin here and now.
Cormac’s soothing touch reached across his soul into his mind. No words, just feelings. The moment of capturing Cormac’s soul struggled in his consciousness. He couldn’t steal hundreds of lives and use his magic with impunity. With enough enemies gathered against him, they would hunt him like an animal. The secrets of Magi Cormac would die with him. He needed a better plan.
Enveloped in fire and smoke that could not touch his body, Kincaid fought for his soul. His mind found images of Liane, and his heart claimed Sholeh. He longed for the simple times of his life, and he pushed the hunger for power and destruction aside.
Escape. With minimal loss of life. In his case, his soul.
Kincaid pushed the flames aside from his path and commanded magic to do his bidding. The stolen soul of Cormac responded to his needs. The flagstones cracked from the heat, and he needed to keep moving. His feet would soon blister from the contact, and he needed to find Liane.
Instead of moving toward the exit, Kincaid turned right toward the guard room. Kincaid shouldn’t be able to hear the sound of a key ring rattling over the chaos of fire, but his enhanced hearing could hear the jingle. The other guard was returning. Magic flooded his senses, and he kept control of his soul.
With a current of energy, Kincaid reached out to the smoke behind him for his next weapon.
The straw should have been consumed by now, but arcane power gave the fire a new fuel. Flames licked the ceiling with unearthly colors. Kincaid crafted a cloud of smoke that billowed around the last guard.
Magic begged for the fallen man’s life. The arcane world wanted destruction. This time, Kincaid ignored those passions. He only needed the uniform.
With a gesture, Kincaid parted the smoke and strode to the prone guard. The fallen man tried to cough out the pollutants in his lungs. He couldn’t open his eyes to see Kincaid’s raised cane come down on his head. The crack was a more powerful blow than Kincaid intended.
Out in the courtyard, servants responded to the fire alarm. Time was running short before the household formed a fire brigade. Someone from the house would recognize him, and the slaughter would make the courtyard run red.
Yes.
Kincaid shook off the thought and replaced his tattered remnants with the guard uniform.
He should’ve taken the woman’s uniform. He looked like he was playing soldier as a young child with the size of this uniform. The blackwood cane slipped into his belt as he staggered toward the door. With a thought, he pushed the arcane flames toward the other cell blocks. The house needed to stay busy to create the opportunity for his escape.
For the first time in weeks, Kincaid staggered outside of the prison walls. He was a man ready to reclaim his life. Servants and guards rushed toward the fire and ignored the young man in an ill-fitting uniform.
Fifty-Seven
Vedette - Fire
The surge of nearby magic hit Vedette like a physical blow. Breath escaped her lungs in a gasp.
She was alone in her restored room, and books were stacked around her, organized by subject. The moment she felt the strength of the summoned magic, thoughts on history and politics vanished.
Magic raced to her call as she jumped to her feet. She pushed her senses to their limit and sprinted toward the room’s exit. The door didn’t slow her pace as she tore through the halls. Guards assigned to her detail fell behind, and Vedette ignored them.
The flow of magic from within the house grounds was unlike anything Vedette experienced before. Somehow, the rest of the house continued with their day-to-day operations. Servants lurched to get out of her path and stared as she raced downstairs to reach the courtyard.
When would they raise the alarm? Vedette bit her lip as she ran. Raise the alarm for what? Only she could feel the power.
Only Magi Cormac could summon this much arcane energy, and he always kept the flow to the smallest trickle. His control was precise and deliberate, where this surge was raw. She only had one idea left.
As she reached the second floor, she turned back to the guards lumbering to keep up with her. Their ragged breath thundered in her ears.
“When we reach the bottom of the stairwell, I want you to get the captain of the guard. Let him know there is a threat to the house. Bring him to me.”
“How will we be able to find you?”
“I’ll be at the center of the action. Start with the prison.”
Vedette didn’t wait for more questions. Commands given, she left her guards behind as magic fueled the strength in her legs. The entire city could be in danger from the source of magic. She knew where the power originated.
The prison.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed the flow of her magic around her. Vedette chose to harden the air as her soul groaned under the pressure. The flow of air would be a shield to push people and objects away from her. She hoped.
Turning to the courtyard, Vedette imagined the climactic battle of good and evil already underway. Shouts echoed from the walls as the house’s routine shattered from the disruption. Buckets appeared from the kitchen and plunged into wells in the courtyard.
Sprinting into a burning building was an unnatural act for a young woman trained in the art of politics and leadership. Going into the environment to face at least one powerful wizard was enough to shake her confidence and commitment. She hesitated, and her steps faltered.
Purple and red flames shot through the ceiling of the prison like the blast of a cannon. Flames raced through the structure, and smoke billowed through every exit, including the open door. The open door. The call to alarm continued, and the entire household responded to the threat.
Vedette hurled her fear aside and counted on her magic to save her. She plunged into the raging flames and tried to search the prison house. Her body resisted her commands as her mind screamed she was running into a trap. The fire was not natural, and she was the only one able to sense it.
She pulled on another stream of magic and plunged her will into the depths of the closest well. Wet mist cooled her body and dampened her clothes. Summoning another stream of magic, she created a small shield of water to guard the pocket of air. With these protections in place, she continued into the growing arcane inferno.
The opposing magic vanished.
Smoke and fire made the environment chaotic, and people tried to help those closest to the smoke. Servants struggled with the flames.
Vedette followed the walls of the cellblock as she knew only one area held prisoners. Her water shield turned to mist as arcane fire fought against cool water. Vapor billowed around her, but the pocket of air allowed her to breathe. Her senses pushed out into the cells. Nothing.
The sorceratti plunged her senses into the burning building, ignoring the shouts and the people around her. She strode deeper into the flames, using more water as fast as the fire burned it away from her. Her soul sang with the ecstasy of power. Her immunity to the fire raging around her was the catharsis from the fears and doubts she harbored.
Vedette was not surprised to find one of the prison cells empty.
Fifty-Eight
Kincaid - Atros
Vedette.
Kincaid hadn’t counted on the family sorceratti to respond to the prison fire, and he hadn’t considered she’d hunt for prisoners in the raging flames. His eyes darted around the compound for exits and monitored the gathering household for anyone who might recognize him. She wasn’t in the crowd yet. His heart raced as he considered his options to be clear the family residence before an investigation determined the body count was short one prisoner.
Surging magic wielded by a powerful sorceratti approached. He couldn’t target the location with this otherworldly sense, but she gave off enough power to warn of her rapid approach. She was dangerous and could unravel everything. And if Atros caught him with these chains. His mind didn’t continue the thought.
No choice.
His magic wailed, longing to crash against the sorceratti’s power. Kincaid closed his connection to the arcane plane. Even a trickle might be enough for her to find him with the energy she already channeled. He still needed to figure out how to get out of the courtyard.
His feet slipped in the dust near the prison as a wall of air knocked him aside. A cool touch of water brushed his exposed skin as mist swirled around the sorceratti. Vedette’s eyes never deviated left or right as she approached the door, and he was glad a servant or guard was beneath her stature and not someone she would notice. Her eyes glowed with blue shards as she wielded the arcane power. So close to this energy, Kincaid longed for a touch of his power.
A voice shouted in his ear, “Do something.” He snapped out of his admiration.
A wooden bucket weighed down with water pressed into his hand. His shoulders burned from the weight, and his palms ached from the metal handle. Without thinking, he ran toward the building and threw its contents into the door. The fire line was forming. He grabbed the next bucket from the person behind him and ran to throw its contents as well.
Fighting fires in the confines of the city was critical. The tightly packed structures would ignite quickly, and an entire island of shops and houses could be gone in hours. With an alarm ringing across the house compound, everyone responded. Running away
from the fire would be suspicious.
Vedette strode into the fire and smoke. With her shields of air and water, she’d discover his secrets. Against the empowered wizard, he’d only have seconds left in his life.
He pulled in a deep breath without a shield of magic. The toxic fumes raced into his lungs and caused him to shudder and cough. Staggering to one knee, he dropped the bucket from his hands. Arms gripped under his shoulders and dragged his convulsing body away from the building. They dragged him to a spot in the shade of the household walls, upwind from the fumes. Others from the fire brigade coughed in this area, but he was left alone to recover.
Kincaid cleared his head and watched a second fire line form. Even the noble family and personal advisers gathered to fight the deadly flames. Magic surged within the building, and Kincaid pulled himself to his feet. He needed to get out of the courtyard, but people clogged the entrance large enough for horses to enter.
The chance of discovery by someone who knew him was growing by the second, and he couldn’t risk recognition with his terrible disguise.
He headed away from the burning fire toward a small door into the household. Kincaid hoped it was a servant area. His smoldering clothes and soot-covered face was enough to avoid examination.
The door opened to a workshop. Kincaid longed to touch the tools on the wall and feel their smooth surface on his palms. The workshop was for a cooper, and finished barrels stacked two high covered one wall. Barrels in construction lay on the floor. Fortunately, it was empty.
If shops were here in this courtyard, they’d have an exit to the outside. The noble family wouldn’t want to observe the day-to-day trade in the expanse of their domain. Kincaid found a door leading deeper into the household. He paused at the entrance to listen, but the commotion in the courtyard was too loud.