The Last Mage Guardian

by Sabrina Chase

  He held one manacle directly in the lamp’s flame, but not so close as to put it out. This was his only chance. Dominic started to feel an uncomfortable warmth on his skin. What if Henri came back early? He’d have to prevent him from alerting Denais. The heat grew painful, then excruciating, and he bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

  A tiny tink came from the manacle, then another. Wincing at the pain, he quickly took it away from the flame and, covering his arm with the blanket, brought the manacle quick and hard down on the edge of his iron bedframe.

  Holding his breath, he listened for any sound in the corridor. There was none. The pain in his wrist had a sharp new component now, and when he took his arm out from under the blanket there was a thin line of red trickling down his hand. The chryselectrum had cracked, but was still either attached to the iron or too large to remove from the manacle. He would have to do it again.

  It hurt even more than the first time. Tears of pain ran down his face as he forced himself to hold his wrist over the lamp. More crackling noises, several in a row, and finally he could bear it no longer. He smashed the manacle against the bedframe, gasping at the staggering wave of pain that made him dizzy.

  The shards of chryselectrum that came out were bloody, but they did come out. He checked his watch. Over an hour from the time Henri had left him, and he still hadn’t even gotten out of his chains. Dominic tugged fiercely, despite the stabbing sensation this caused, and slowly pulled his hand free. A long, deep cut ran along his thumb, dripping blood.

  He sacrificed his cravat to tie up his hand, desperately wishing he had water, or anything for the burns. He had to bandage the cuts that were bleeding freely, but even soft cloth touching the burns was agonizing.

  Dominic gritted his teeth and started the procedure on the second manacle. He knew what to do now, which made it easier, but now he had one hand throbbing with pain already and the other on its way. Just as he started to hear the cracking noises of the chryselectrum giving way, the rattle of the key in the door made his heart jump.

  He had just enough warning to put the lamp on the shelf and wrap his arm in the blanket. He needed Henri to show up again, to open the cell door, but if Denais wanted to talk to him, the two thugs would be outside to escort him.

  There was no sign of the thugs. Henri came in with a tray of food containing, in addition, a pitcher of water.

  “Oh good,” Dominic sighed.

  Henri put down the tray, stiffened, then leaned over to pick a shard of chryselectrum off the floor. “Why, what is this?”

  Dominic gripped his hands together and swung as hard as he could at the back of Henri’s neck. The older man crumpled to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry....” Dominic quickly picked him up and laid him carefully on the bed. He smashed the remaining manacle again and again, dragging his hand free with a whimper of pain he could not entirely suppress. More burns, more blood. He poured water over his hands, his breath hissing in when the cold water made contact. It helped, but not enough. He felt unsteady for a moment.

  Henri moaned, and Dominic panicked. He couldn’t use the manacles—even if he had the key, Henri’s wrists were much thinner than his. He ripped up more of the blanket and quickly tied Henri’s hands and feet together. Thinking a moment more, he added a gag. It was hard to focus through the pain.

  Henri didn’t look very good. His face was pale and his skin, when Dominic felt for a pulse, was clammy. He dragged the remaining scrap of blanket over Henri’s thin shoulders and tried not to feel guilty. He failed.

  He’d had no choice. If he wanted to escape and help both Henri and his wife, this was the only way. He tried not to think that he might have done Henri more harm than could be fixed. Dominic sighed, poured more water on his bandages, and carefully left the cell with the manacles in hand as an improvised weapon.

  He kept the door unlocked but closed, just in case. Unhooking a lantern from the hallway, he set off towards the mysterious far end of the corridor. Going back towards the cellar ran the risk of encountering one of Denais’ servants.

  The stone got rougher as he continued on. The air was cool, and slightly damp. Dominic turned a corner, and stopped short. A web of magic filled the corridor ahead, completely blocking the way. He didn’t recognize what it was, nor the complex, multilayered seal-like device on the floor. Were those faint gold markings around it? Why did they seem familiar?

  He could walk around the seal without touching it, or jump, but the mesh was a difficulty. Well, didn’t magic have a problem with iron? He held one manacle in each hand, spreading the chain wide, and tossed it at the mesh.

  The mesh twisted and pulsed, but held. The manacles landed just on the edge of the magical seal, and when they hit, a long piece of chryselectrum fell out. Magic flared along the edge of the silvery glass, warping the intricate symmetry of the seal. The pattern was changing, flowing, becoming...larger. The magic writhed like a living thing in pain, making the gold markings more clearly visible, and he suddenly remembered where he had seen them before—in the Adaran temple. Was the mesh there to block whatever it did?

  The seal suddenly vanished in a powerful blast of magic. Dominic felt something like a shudder in the air, and then an orange-and-white furry streak flew by from beyond the darkness, ears flat against its head. The mesh had not impeded the cat at all, and Dominic wondered if he should just go through.

  Then he saw the water. It was filling the end of the corridor and brought a strangely familiar smell with it. Well, now he knew what the seal was intended to do. He had just destroyed the spell that kept the water out.

  The edge of the water glittered in the lamplight, because it was moving. Towards him. He stared at it resentfully. He was so tired—all he wanted to do was escape. Now he was going to have to go the other way, and he couldn’t leave Henri down here. Who knew where the water would stop?

  “A slight setback,” he whispered to the still-unconscious Henri, lifting him to his shoulders and trying not to gasp when his burns made contact. Fortunately, Henri was thin and not very heavy. “I think I broke something.”

  If he had to go through the cellar, there was something else he definitely wanted to break on the way. He crept cautiously to the end of the corridor. The main cellar appeared empty. Dominic went as quickly and silently as he could to the cabinet and smashed the door in, remembering the magical lock. Magicians rarely considered more brutal methods of burglary when designing their defenses.

  Freezing water was seeping into his shoes and rising higher as he watched. Dominic’s heart sank when he saw two of the bottles were missing, but then realized one was his. Denais would not be getting any use from that one. He took the rest and emptied them out, feeling unclean. It was like pouring out someone’s life.

  Dominic headed to the stairs. Then he heard the shouting, and the sounds of running feet, and wondered where in the mostly-empty cellar he could hide.

  In a way, it was fortunate they had been planning to leave the city, Ardhuin mused. Her most crucial equipment had been packed on the carriage. It would have been nice to have everything, of course, but she did not want to leave the ruined mansion, and no one else would be able to enter her workroom. Time was running out.

  She looked up from the hollow glass ball she was warming in her hands when Markus approached. It was a cold, grey day and she was having trouble getting the lodestone powder active.

  “Did you find it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “It took longer than I expected. The one by the north warehouse—two laborers came by, one after the other. At least that’s what they looked like. The sound their shoes made did not match their appearance.” Markus grinned. “I think that is the entrance.”

  “Is Colonel Biedermer gone?”

  His grin widened. “He saw no need to stay, since he is only setting up the area cordon. It doubtless occurred to him that criticizing you so vehemently was not wise, considering what you did to von Koller. I greatly admired your restrai
nt.”

  The dust was not floating at all. She needed something warm. “He wasn’t afraid of me, and his complaints were quite justified. I can’t blame him for being upset with how I dealt with his troops.”

  “More likely he was upset that you were able to do it. Made him think several entirely new thoughts, and he’s not used to that. Where is Fraülein von Kitren?”

  Ardhuin pointed down the street. “Diplomatically informing the owner we’ve taken over his building. Do we have anything to build a fire with?”

  Markus frowned. “Wouldn’t that be too noticeable? Are you cold?”

  “No, it’s not for me,” Ardhuin said quickly, as he went to take off his caped greatcoat. “It’s for this.” She held up the scrying ball.

  They both turned to look when the sound of hooves rang along the street. “How the devil did Biedermer let anyone through? He’s going to alert whoever is in the mansion!” Markus said, looking annoyed. “Oh. It’s von Koller. The coachman must have been persuasive. I only asked for him to send any magicians he could find.”

  “Speak of the devil and he appears,” Ardhuin said dryly. He must have ridden as fast as he could when the summons was delivered. His horse’s sides were heaving. That gave her an idea, and she started walking towards him.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” growled the head of the Kriegszauberkollegium.

  “If I had my way, I would have left you unable to say anything to anyone,” Ardhuin snapped back. She pressed the scrying ball against the flank of his steaming horse, and noted with approval the lodestone dust beginning to swirl.

  “You are a damned impertinent child who insists on playing with dangerous things. I have nothing but contempt for you.”

  “And I for you,” Ardhuin replied, keeping her gaze focused on the scrying ball. She was amazed at her calm, almost worthy of Gutrune. She didn’t even feel her face getting hot. “Unfortunately for both of us, we have a common enemy. I require your aid to defeat this enemy and rescue my assistant. You will need my aid to stop a determined threat to your King and country. The question is, will you be able to overcome your distaste for my company long enough to do your duty?”

  Von Koller jerked at the reins, making his horse toss up his head and dance nervously away. Ardhuin didn’t mind. The scrying ball was now cloudy with dust, and all she had to do was keep it protected from the wind.

  “I do not need any advice from you on how to perform my duty,” von Koller hissed.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” Ardhuin said, turning away with the ball carefully cupped in her hands. “We will need a basic scan done when your magicians arrive.”

  “Is that sort of thing beneath you?” von Koller sneered. “That is a scrying ball, is it not? Do it yourself.”

  Ardhuin sighed. “Can any of them cast Devourer Gate? If not, they cannot use a scrying ball to find it, can they? We are dealing with a mage who knows the spells of the Grand Armeé. Wouldn’t you prefer to know as much as possible where they are?”

  Von Koller sat in silence for a moment, his face working. “Very well,” he said between clenched teeth, and rode away.

  Ardhuin walked to the watchman’s shed, the closest point to the mansion that could not be seen from it. She felt depressed and disappointed, and wondered if they could succeed. Yes, she had won an argument with von Koller. Unfortunately, it was barely even a truce, and she had not been able to ask him for advice on which spells to trace.

  It wasn’t exactly the same as casting the whole spell—just the elements that comprised it. But it still took power, and she had been made painfully aware that she had limits. Use too much with detection, and she would not have enough to fight with. Use too little, and she might not survive to fight at all.

  Devourer Gate, of course. Von Gerling had that set up in his quarters. She considered the spells her great-uncle had taught her, narrowed down the list to ones that would be useful here, and then selected five of the most dangerous.

  The scans required a great deal of concentration, and she was only distantly aware of the sound of voices, of Markus and Gutrune and the hurrying of feet. The magic revealed itself as patterns in the dust, responding to the magic she cast and the resonances felt by the little activated pebbles she’d had Markus place about the perimeter of the mansion. It was horribly crude, but without Dominic, it was the best she could do.

  As she finished the last scan, she felt the scrying ball tremble. Suddenly the dust compressed itself into a tight lump in the very center, and just as suddenly exploded. A crack formed and darted in a jagged line over the surface of the ball, which she nearly dropped in surprise.

  “What’s wrong?” Both Markus and Gutrune stood in front of her. She must have cried out. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

  Ardhuin looked at the broken scrying ball, and then at the mansion. She frowned. “I’m not sure. There was a very powerful event just now. But...but it felt like a release, not a construction.”

  Markus, being a magician himself, understood what she was trying to say. “You mean a spell was broken? Did you do that?”

  “Not with a scrying ball,” Ardhuin blurted. “Was someone else casting spells?”

  “Will they be able to detect this broken spell?” Gutrune asked, looking worried.

  “If it was one of theirs, most likely,” Ardhuin said slowly. “I am not sure it was one of theirs. I have never seen anything like it before.”

  Von Koller was quickly made aware of the situation, and he flatly declared that regardless of the source, the people in the mansion would be alerted and the attack should begin immediately. He delayed only long enough for Ardhuin to indicate where she had found the dangerous spells before ordering his magicians to attack.

  She managed to stifle her protest before von Koller heard it; instead, she silently followed the Kriegsa magicians. Taking action was a relief even if her knees felt dangerously weak. If she had seen it, the enemy could have seen it too. But it felt wrong. Something told her the powerful burst of magic had not been created by either side. It felt old.

  Denais’ voice shouted something unintelligible. He sounded annoyed, and the shouting was coming closer. Dominic cast about frantically for a hiding place. The water was nearly to his knees, and numbingly cold. The cellar was too open, there was nothing...no. The stairs themselves—behind them, there was a space. Moving as quickly as he could without sloshing, Dominic wedged himself and his burden in the cramped space even as he heard feet descend.

  “No, do not reveal yourselves! We have no idea who—salaude de chien!” The steps on the stairs halted, then continued. “So that was it! He escaped and destroyed the tunnel behind him. Piente jeune!”

  Tunnel? A tunnel...under the river? That would explain the smell, then. Dominic could just peek around the edge of the stairs. Denais ran through the water to the cabinet, and when he found it was shattered and empty, he flung the cabinet door shut with a bang and strode back up the stairs, his face furious.

  After waiting as long as he could stand it, Dominic carefully went up the stairs again. He could barely feel his feet from the cold. It was unlikely that anyone would come down again, which was good news, but he would be trapped if he remained here, and the water might continue to rise. He had to find another way out of the house.

  Each step was an effort. Henri still had not stirred or made a sound, and Dominic worried even more. What if he had struck too hard? His burns throbbed, and his back ached with the strain of carrying Henri for so long. He had to find a hiding place for Henri as well.

  He followed the damp trail left by Denais and his men to the ground floor, pleased that his own wet footprints would not be so noticeable by comparison. From the back of the house came sounds of argument.

  No one was visible in the foyer, so he decided to risk attempting the front door. His hopes were dashed by the wash of strong magic framing the entrance just inside. It looked slightly familiar, and definitely dangerous. No, the front door was out. He would have to tr
y the back, where the voices were.

  Denais was yelling again. His calm, detached attitude was considerably frayed. “No, you fool! If we strike first we reveal our strength, and they could still call for assistance. Lure them in and destroy them utterly. From that beginning we can recover.”

  Dominic glanced at the door to the cellar stairs, and then at the hallway where the voices came from. He would not be able to reach the door in time, not with the burden he had. He looked at the apparently collapsing staircase to the upper floor and took a deep breath. He had to risk it. There might still be someone up there, but Denais and others were definitely down here.

  The uneven stairs made him lose his balance more than once, painfully landing on his knees. Had Denais heard him? Fear gave him strength, and he staggered up in one last burst before collapsing behind a plush settee in a corner.

  He took deep, ragged breaths, trying to muffle the sound in the crook of his arm. Henri lay where he had fallen, a thin trickle of blood coming from one nostril. At least he was still alive enough to bleed. Dominic wrenched off his coat and covered him with it.

  Now he had to escape. The upper parlor was empty, as he had hoped. There must be a servant’s stair somewhere that he could use to reach the ground floor undetected. It would probably be near a rear exit, too. He hesitated, thinking of Henri, but realized he was too tired to carry the man any further. If he was going to escape and rescue them both, it would have to be on his own.

  Watching carefully, he passed the conservatory and Henri’s petrified wife. Dominic stopped short, staring. Sparks of magic flashed outside the conservatory glass, arcing from the iron framework that held it in place. Amazement held him motionless, until he realized what was happening. Denais was under attack.