by Joseph Lallo
He made his way to the west courtyard looking for Haliden, the duty mage, and found him near the stables. He was using his magic to maintain the wards.
“Can you feel it?”
Hal nodded worriedly. “No one could miss something this loud. I can’t tell what the spell is. Can you?”
It wasn’t actually a noise, but he took Hal’s meaning. To a mage, a disturbance like this was like standing at the base of a waterfall. That sense of infinite power and irresistible pressure thundering down nearby was the closest thing he could compare it with. If he got in its way, it would squash him like a bug. Loud didn’t begin to describe how it felt.
Haliden had earned the yellow robe of a journeyman; he was a more powerful mage by far, but shields and warding were his thing. Mathius on the other hand, was the youngest and weakest of Lord Keverin’s mages. His talents lay in other areas. Sensing and other investigative magics were more his speciality.
“I’ll try to track it,” he said.
Using his magic in a way he’d invented himself while travelling with his father in the east, he wove his best sensing spell. With his eyes still closed in concentration, he felt the spell settle over him like a second skin. Without willing it he found himself turning in place toward the disturbance. He opened his eyes.
To his surprise, he found himself looking back the way he’d come. “He’s in the library! He can’t be one of us, Hal. You had better tell Renard. I’ll go and have a look.”
Before Haliden could protest, he ran back into the citadel to check the library. It would be an utter disaster if the enemy destroyed the books. The lord had spent a fortune collecting them. They had cost enough to fund a small country, but they represented far more than mere gold. They were the future of Athione and her mages made manifest.
Without hesitation, he stormed the doors of the library as if assaulting an enemy keep. Once inside, he stepped sideways into the shadows. He kept a tight hold on his magic as he searched the hall for anything amiss. Everything seemed fine. Making a quick dash across the open space, he stopped at the archway to peek into the other hall and found an intruder. Someone was sitting in the dark blazing with power. The strength of the glow reminded him strongly of Darius just before the end.
He crept silently up to the man’s back and stopped close enough to touch. “Don’t try to use it,” he hissed, drawing upon his magic so hard it hurt. “Turn toward me slowly. If you try anything else you’re dead.”
He couldn’t believe he was bluffing someone so powerful. Where did he get the stones to say that? The intruder didn’t respond or indicate he’d heard the order.
Mathius wiped his sweating palms on his robe. Slowly, carefully, he stepped around the man. “No...”
Oh... NO!
He quickly used his magic to bespeak Haliden. *It’s Lady Julia! She’s drawing magic, but she hasn’t grounded. I think she’s stuck.*
*Renard is on the way. Stay with her.*
He pulled up a chair and sat next to her.
Julia was in terrible danger. She didn’t know anything about magic or its pitfalls and this was the result. Why had she tried to use it without instruction? The others would be horrified when they learned. She was unaware of him as he spun a quick spell to test her strength, but the spell was rebuffed. He frowned and tried harder. The response this time was overwhelming. He gasped as his spell shattered, and he dropped the link to his magic. She had forced him to let it go!
He shook his head and blinked his watering eyes. The mage glow surrounding her was very bright, and it had begun pulsing at odd intervals. A response to him? Maybe, but it was more likely due to her own lack of knowledge and control. She couldn’t control the flow, and there was nothing he could do to help. She needed Renard. He turned his attention to the books she had chosen to read. He pulled them toward him already recognising the one she’d been reading.
Centring... Ground Work for Apprentice Level Mages.
He remembered the book well. It was the first one about magic he’d ever read. It was a good choice for a starting point. It had certainly done the trick for Julia.
“Hnnn…” Julia moaned, and he turned his attention back to her. She was shaking.
He bit his lip, looking toward the entrance for Renard’s arrival, but there was still no sign of him. Julia’s eyes were open with only the whites showing, and her brow was damp with sweat. She’d been drawing upon her magic too long and must be exhausted. That was terribly dangerous. If she lost control of it, she could die or worse.
He wasn’t strong enough to break her link, but he might be able to bespeak her. Grasping his own magic, he tried to contact her through the turbulence she was causing.
*Think about the library,* he said, struggling against the instability, *Think about grounding yourself!*
It was no good. All he could hear was the roar of her magic as it raged within her. He was about to try again when Renard and Lord Keverin finally arrived. The relief was overwhelming. He released his magic and rose to greet them.
Keverin was wearing his shirt outside his trousers as if he’d thrown his clothes on in a hurry, and Renard was puffing to keep up with his long strides. Mathius stood aside as Renard drew upon his magic and sent an intricate spell toward Julia. He watched closely, hoping to learn something, but the spell was rebuffed just as his had been. Every time it tried to connect, Julia’s magic shunted it away.
Renard frowned. “She’s too powerful for me. I cannot break her out of it.”
“Suggestions?” Keverin said.
He bit his lip. “I don’t like this, my lord, but I think a big enough distraction at the same time as Renard tries his spell might work.”
“We’ll try it,” Keverin said, snatching at any chance.
Keverin hesitated briefly, but then slapped Julia’s cheek gently. Renard shook his head; it hadn’t worked. Keverin grimaced in distaste and slapped her harder. Another head-shake and another harder slap, then again, and again, and again, and again. Suddenly the glow around Julia faltered, and Renard gasped as his spell finally worked. The mage glow vanished around both of them at the same instant.
Julia slumped over the table gasping and panting for breath.
Renard swayed in his chair as if drunk.
“Are you all right?” he said, concerned for his friend.
“Never have I experienced the magic so intensely. I could feel her power through our connection. It was as if all the joy in the world had been distilled into that one moment.”
“I felt your strength increase when your spell connected with her. I think her link was feeding yours.”
“That’s not possible. I mean, it never used to be possible—I don’t think it was,” Renard said in wonder.
He grimaced. That was exactly the problem. No one knew what was possible and what wasn’t anymore. Even a master mage like Renard didn’t know. How would he ever gain rank without someone to teach him?
“Did I light it?” Julia mumbled, trying to sit up.
Mathius shook his head. “I told you before that you have the gift. You didn’t light the lamp, but you do have it.”
Julia nodded weakly and fell asleep where she sat. Keverin looked at her in consternation, but then he shrugged and picked her up. He strode out of the library with her cradled in his arms like a child.
Mathius watched his lord leave and then helped Renard find his bed.
* * *
15 ~ When the Towers Fell
Julia concentrated and lit the lamp with her magic before entering the dusty hall for her meeting with mastercrafter Deneen. Mathius hadn’t been pleased when she cancelled practise this morning. He wanted to work on her fire spells again, but she was tired of repeating the same ones over and over. He wouldn’t let her try warding even though Renard desperately needed the help. The poor man was fit to drop. The constant attacks were tiring all the mages faster than predicted. Renard was pushing himself too hard.
I can make more than fire—I know I can!
Although two weeks wasn’t a long time, she was worried about Jill and her training. When she returned, she needed to be in top condition. Jessica had suggested asking Keverin for somewhere to train, but he didn’t like her. She had begged her friend to intercede, and Jessica had come through in spades. The banqueting hall with its polished wooden floor used for dancing, made for a perfect gym. It was the only one like it in the fortress. All the others had stone floors.
Jessica’s intervention had netted her master-crafter Deneen’s services as well. The old boy was a wonder. He’d boasted that he could make anything she could think up, and so it had proven. Her description of a springboard had delighted him. It was something different, something he’d never envisaged. When it had worked like her old one, she’d been delighted too.
The balance beam wasn’t such a big hit with Deneen. He had an apprentice make it while he worked on the vaulting horse. The beam was finished in saddle leather not suede like a proper beam, but she’d been satisfied with the amount of grip it provided when she tested it.
It was the asymmetric bars that were giving Deneen trouble. His first design hadn’t been strong enough. Without steel guide wires, the entire thing had shifted around something awful. The second attempt had been worse in some ways. It had been too strong with no flexibility in the bars. Using the apparatus like that would have ruined her for life. She would, hopefully, approve his new design this morning.
The hall was dark when she entered. She held up her lamp and found the hall deserted. The beginnings of the vaulting horse stood to one side with the beam pushed out of the way for now. Deneen must still be at his breakfast; his tools were nowhere in sight. He and his apprentice were very protective of their tools. They always took them away at the end of the workday.
She crossed the dusty floor to the half disassembled bars, grabbed the nearest upright, and shook it roughly. It barely moved. The ropes with their odd-looking tensioning device seemed to work. Deneen had sworn they would, but twisting ropes to provide tension instead of using wire had seemed iffy at best to her. Chalk another one up to the mastercrafter’s experience.
The darkened hall was making her uncomfortable even with the lamp illuminating a circle around her. There was no need to wait in the dark she decided. Above her head there were two large chandeliers hanging from chains. They were even bigger than those in the great hall were, and would take a gang of men to lower for lighting. She certainly couldn’t get them down. She glanced at the door and bit her lip. No one would know. She grasped her magic, revelling in the feel of it thundering through her, and lit the candles with a flick of her fingers that Mathius said was unnecessary. Maybe it was, but she always felt better doing it.
The candles lit with a blast of heat and light. All of them, instantly. Hundreds and hundreds of them. The glare blinded her, and she shielded her eyes, blinking away the purple after-images of the little flames. She’d used too much magic. Why did she find it so hard to hold back? Surely using more power should be harder, not the other way around, but it wasn’t, not for her. She stared up at the chandeliers, and smiled ruefully. Well, no real harm done, and the crystals were so pretty, winking and sparkling with every flicker of the candle flames. She could easily imagine a young Jessica and her consort dancing beneath them in times gone by.
She opened the little door in her lamp and snuffed the flame. Putting it down next to the bars, she wandered over to the table that Deneen used for his drawings. He wouldn’t mind if she browsed his designs without him.
BOOOM!
People startled awake throughout the citadel. Those already awake jumped and spilled their drinks. They gaped at their companions over the breakfast tables, trying to stop plates and bowls falling from their places.
Julia fell, sprawling upon the floor as the fortress lurched beneath her feet. There were screams and crashing sounds from outside. Dust was pattering down around her, and she could hear thuds and crashes as things fell. The entire fortress was groaning as if in pain. She stared up at the ceiling warily, hoping it was going to stay put. The chandeliers were swinging on their chains, but they didn’t appear in danger of falling.
She scrambled to her feet, ran outside, and gaped at what she found in the courtyard. The west gate was gone—simply gone. Where it had stood, the truncated remains of the gate towers leaned drunkenly away from each other, as if a giant had walked through a space too small for him. Dust was still rising on the breeze, and stones continued to fall from what remained of the walls and towers. She held her breath as the gate towers swayed, but they settled into their new positions without falling. All over the courtyard, she saw motionless forms—people obviously dead. Worse were the shrieks of the wounded. She stared in confusion at something on the ground nearby and realised it wasn’t more debris from the walls; it was the broken remains of a person. Her gorge rose, and her vision narrowed. She stared at the body through a misty tunnel.
I can’t pass out, I can’t pass out...
She crouched and turned the body over. It was a man… had been a man. With relief that quickly turned to guilt, she realised that she didn’t know him. He’d been a young guardsman, no older than she was. Would someone mourn for him, a sweetheart perhaps? Looking away and across the debris-filled courtyard, she found a green robed form face down next to one in yellow.
Oh no, please... This isn’t happening!
She ran to her friend and knelt by his side. She hesitated to touch him, but she had to know the worst. She grabbed a fistful of his robe, and struggled to turn him over.
“AEiii!” Mathius screamed as he flopped onto his back.
A piece of wood was sticking out of his side just above the waist. She had driven it further in as she turned him. She could have killed him! Her gorge rose, and she vomited over the rubble behind her.
“H… how is... how is Hal?” Mathius croaked, trying to see his friend.
Coughing and trying to hold down the rest of her breakfast, she checked the yellow-robed figure, but Haliden was staring into the next world—dead. She shook her head mutely, trying to find the words to tell Mathius, but they wouldn’t come. He closed his eyes, in grief she thought at first, but no, he’d fallen unconscious. She looked desperately around for some help. A lake of blood was forming beneath Mathius, and she didn’t know what to do! Her hands fluttered uselessly around the wooden stake in his belly.
She didn’t dare touch it.
Guardsmen finally boiled out of the citadel, and started checking for wounded. Captain Marcus shouted orders as he ran toward her. She watched him approach as if in a dream, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying. There was a roaring in her ears, and a cold sweat running down her spine. One moment he was across the courtyard, a slow blink of her eyes later, and he was on his knees beside her without seeming to cross the space between. He listened to Mathius’ chest trying to find a heartbeat, nodded once in satisfaction, and barked orders at the top of his lungs. Help quickly arrived to carry the injured mage into the citadel.
She climbed to her feet, bewildered in the midst of total disaster. Wherever she looked, bodies and pieces of bodies lay like dolls strewn across a room by an unruly child. The guardsmen were checking for wounded and carrying them inside; sometimes they started to help one of the fallen, only to put him down in favour of someone else. Someone still breathing.
She stared at the courtyard in shock, not knowing where to turn. She didn’t know who she was looking for, until she found him.
Keverin!
He was sitting propped against the remains of the stable wall in a pool of blood. His thigh was bleeding badly where a piece of wood had speared it. She knew some first aid, but nothing about real medicine. Was there an artery there? She didn’t know, but bleeding like this was serious. Pressing both hands against the wound to stifle the rhythmically spurting blood, she looked desperately around for Marcus.
“Leave me,” Keverin mum
bled. “The Hasians... coming.”
Oh God, please help me now!
“You’ll be all right. I’ll get help,” she gasped, panic rising.
“Listen to me... no time... coming,” Keverin slurred, and slipped unconscious.
Snatching his dagger from its sheath, she quickly cut loose his sash. She pulled it free and tied it tightly around his leg above the wound. The bleeding slowed to a trickle as she ruthlessly twisted the dagger’s handle in the knot. She spotted a man near the remains of the gate, and shouted to him. He ran toward her, but unaccountably, he raised his sword to attack. She suddenly realised her mistake. He was wearing different armour than Kev’s people. Without knowing what she could do to stop him, she pulled on her magic, and threw something at him.
Craaaack!
Lightning flew from her outstretched hand, and struck the man full in the chest. He was hurled away with a hole burned through his armour, over his heart. His grimace of pain branded itself upon her memory, and she stared at her hand in horror.
God forgive me!
“Rally! Rally to the gate!” Marcus bellowed.
Pandemonium erupted as Kev’s guardsmen rallied to Marcus and counter-attacked. Battle cries and screams of the dying mixed into a roar, as the Devans desperately tried to force their enemy back out of the fortress. Julia looked from Keverin to the battle and back, before running to help.
Climbing over shattered stones, she found the tower door she needed, but fallen masonry had blocked it. She tried to use a broken timber as a lever, but the rubble proved too heavy. She gritted her teeth, heaving with all her might. The blocks shifted, but the wood snapped and she fell back barking her shins painfully against the sharp stones.
Damn it!
Grasping her magic, she fumbled around with it, trying to move enough stone to open the door, but she didn’t know how! She forced it under the stones, hoping they would move, but nothing happened. She tried again.