The Firemage's Vengeance

by Garrett Robinson

  “Hold still!” cried Ebon. He seized Kalem’s arm and dragged him towards the edge of the rocky platform. Taking him under the elbows, Ebon threw his legs over the edge and into the water, where the flames died in a hiss.

  “There now,” said Ebon, pulling him back up. “No harm—”

  But Kalem looked over his shoulder, and his eyes shot wide in terror. Ebon did not even turn—he only seized Kalem’s shoulder and dove. A rasping hiss sounded as Gregor’s sword sliced through the air where his head had been a moment before. Now the giant loomed over them, and they fought to scramble away—but then Mako was there, forcing Gregor to turn around. And across the cove, Theren gave a shout, and her magic struck Gregor a mighty blow. He stumbled away, striking the base of the cliff hard.

  The firemage was waiting. As Theren’s attention went to Gregor, the woman on the steps let loose a flurry of magic. Fire shot forth, laced with thunder, and a gale behind it all. Theren threw up her arms, holding it back with a wall of pure force. But the winds broke through, and buffeted her, and then an arc of lightning struck her in the chest. She screamed and dropped to the ground.

  “Theren!” cried Ebon.

  He looked to Mako, hoping the bodyguard could help, though he did not know how. But Mako was not looking at Theren. He had turned towards the steps, and even as Ebon’s gaze fell upon him, he threw one of his daggers. It flew through the air, straight as an arrow, and buried itself to the hilt in the firemage’s neck.

  She stood there slack for a moment. Her fingers probed at the dagger, while her eyes tried to turn in their sockets to see it. Then she tumbled from the edge, and landed on the stone shelf with a wet crack.

  It had taken Mako only a half-second, but it was long enough. He danced away even as he whirled to face Gregor again, but the giant had already struck, and four inches of his sword tip plunged into the flesh of Mako’s shoulder before withdrawing almost at once. Mako grimaced, but did not utter a sound, not even a grunt. He sank down on one knee with the pain, and Gregor stepped forwards.

  By Ebon’s hand lay a sword, dropped by one of the guards Mako had killed. He snatched it up without thinking, and he leapt. A scream ripped from his throat as he swung it into the back of Gregor’s leg. Ebon had thought the man wore only leather pants, but he must have had chain beneath, for the sword rebounded with a rending sound. Still, Gregor stumbled. He turned and sent the back of one boulder-sized fist into Ebon’s face. Ebon went crashing into the stone wall.

  As he lay there, senseless for a moment, he saw that his little swing had been enough. Mako was up once again, and with a savage kick he knocked the sword from Gregor’s hand. It plunged into the Great Bay and vanished. Gregor reached for him, but Mako leapt over his arms and behind him. One massive arm came around, searching, but Mako caught it and twisted it, and before Ebon could blink he had flung Gregor to the floor. He twisted the hand until Ebon thought it must surely break, and put his one remaining dagger to Gregor’s throat. Everyone went deathly still.

  “Now then, brute,” said Mako. “That is enough of your bawling. You have two choices here, and one of them sends your blood flowing into the ocean. But I will let you leave here alive—as long as you tell me where that mindmage whelp is.”

  “You have your own mindmage,” said Gregor through gritted teeth. “Do with her what you will.”

  Mako sent the tip of the dagger into Gregor’s throat—not deep, and almost flat, so that a half-inch of it slid under the skin, rather than into it. “Do not give me sass, Gregor. I do you a great honor by offering you your life, for you have killed many of my warriors. Speak now, or die.”

  Ebon stared at him in wonder. Would Mako really let Gregor sail away from here, after all the man had done? But then he saw the hard glint in the bodyguard’s eyes. And he remembered in the basement of Xain’s home, when Mako had promised to let Isra live, and then had tried to kill her anyway. Ebon had stopped him then, but he could not now. Mako had no intention of keeping his word and letting Gregor leave.

  But neither, it seemed, did Gregor have any intention of doing as Mako wished. “Drown in your own piss,” he spat. “Slit my throat, if that is truly your aim, for you will get no truth from me. And you will never find Isra before it is too late.”

  Mako sighed and opened his mouth as if to speak. But then Ebon heard many voices from above, and Kalem cried, “Watch out!” Mako dove without thinking, rolling away from Gregor as arrows rained down from the sky. One struck Gregor in the back, but it rebounded from his chain, and he fought to rise to all fours.

  Looking up, Ebon saw many soldiers gathered at the cliff’s edge, and they were beginning to come down the stairs. They were clad all in the red leather armor of constables, and his heart skipped a beat.

  Gregor was up now. Ebon’s limbs obeyed him at last, and he scrambled up, expecting the giant to come for them—but instead he turned and ran for the docks. He leapt into the boat there, nimble as a cat, ignoring the cries of the Yerrin guards. With a dagger from his belt he cut both mooring lines, and then his huge arms pulled at the oars to launch his craft into the Great Bay.

  “Time to go,” said Mako, teeth bared against the pain of his shoulder. He pulled Ebon along with him, and Kalem hurried after as they ran for the sewer entrance from which they had come. Theren was there, and to Ebon’s stark relief, she was up on her knees and looking about, blinking.

  “What happened?” she said. “Where is Gregor?”

  “Gone,” said Ebon pointing out to sea. He and Kalem took her arms to help her up.

  “No!” cried Theren. She reached out, and light sprang into her eyes as she tried to clutch Gregor’s boat with magic. But he did not slow, and the magelight winked out almost at once.

  “He is gone now,” said Kalem. “And we must leave as well.” He flinched as an arrow struck the stone by them, though in truth it was not a very close shot.

  “No truer words were ever spoken, goldshitter,” said Mako. “Into the sewers once more.”

  thirty-four

  THEY HAD NOT EVEN ROUNDED the first corner when they heard shouts at the sewer entrance and the tramp of feet behind them.

  “I hope you are faster than you have shown yourself to be, boys,” grunted Mako. “Otherwise Theren and I may be forced to leave you behind, for the redbacks will surely catch you.”

  “You cannot abandon us down here!” cried Kalem.

  “He is having a joke,” said Ebon. “Though he should save his breath for running.”

  Mako grinned. “I know my way around these sewers like a babe in its mother’s womb. They will not be able to track us.”

  But his boasting seemed a lie, for they could always hear their pursuers behind them in the tunnels. When they reached the area they had dropped down before, the Yerrin guards were gone—many ridges in the stone floor thrust through the muck to show where they had been trapped, but the stone was chipped away, and Ebon guessed that they had managed to dig themselves out. Mako helped them up the ladder and into the tunnel above, despite his wounded shoulder. There they felt sure they would lose the constables at last. But in no time they heard their pursuers anew, voices echoing with shouts and cries to halt.

  I wonder if anyone ever does, thought Ebon. Just stops in their tracks and waits to be captured.

  “How do they keep finding us?” said Kalem, voice heavy with fear.

  Theren said nothing, but Ebon caught her looking at Mako. He followed her gaze, and saw the blood that still flowed steadily from the bodyguard’s shoulder. It ran down his arm to his elbow, and from there it splashed to the stone floor every few steps. Some of it sank into the muck in their feet, but much of it showed on the stone.

  That was how the constables were tracking them. But what could they do? Ebon would not abandon the man who had saved them all so many times already.

  Without warning, Mako skidded to a stop. “Here we are,” he said. “The street above is just outside the Academy. The three of you must climb up and return to the ci
tadel. I will lead the redbacks away.”

  “You cannot,” said Ebon. “You are hurt, and they are tracking you by your blood.”

  “Do you think I did not spot that?” growled Mako. “Loss of blood has not yet made me a fool. But I was hampered by you and your stumpy little friends. Without you, I can finally lose the constables, as I would have from the beginning if it were not for your useless hides.”

  Kalem seemed taken aback by that, but Ebon only fixed Mako with a keen stare. “Very well,” he said quietly. “Only do not let yourself be captured.”

  “Do you forget with whom you speak?” said Mako. “You need not worry yourself on my account.”

  “Who said I was worried for you?” said Ebon, shrugging. “I worry only that if they caught you, it would go ill for the family.”

  That earned him a smile. “More like a proper Drayden every day. Now shut your fool mouth, for they will be here in a moment.”

  He lifted them up one by one, and they broke out blinking into the light of the afternoon sun. Then he ran off again with light, springing steps. Ebon and his friends hurried away from the sewer entrance.

  “Will he be all right?” said Kalem.

  “Of course,” said Theren. “And even if not, do you think he would spare any worries for us, if our positions were reversed?” But she could not hide the concern in her eyes as she looked back over her shoulder.

  “What time is it?” said Ebon. “If it is still the afternoon study period, we should not enter the front doors.”

  “The sun is too low,” said Kalem, pointing to it. “It must be after the bell.”

  “If you say so.” They ran around the corner, into the street just before the Academy. “I know the first place we should go, for I think we all need a bath.”

  Theren outpaced them for a moment and reached the front doors first. They were shut—and something in the back of Ebon’s mind shouted a warning at that fact—but she had them open at once, and bounded inside with the boys just behind her.

  And there they stopped.

  Before them were arranged almost the entire faculty. Ebon saw Jia present, and Perrin, and Dasko—Dasko who looked at them all with smoldering eyes. But Xain was at their head, and Ebon saw a look of fury upon his face—fury, and triumph.

  In his hand he held the amulet of Kekhit.

  For a moment Ebon and his friends stood rooted, unsure of what to do. Instinct told Ebon to run. Reason told him he would never escape before the instructors there—wizards, all of them—stopped him with spells. Terror told him to throw himself at their feet and beg for mercy, to say it had all been Theren’s idea. Pride told him to hold his head high, to demand what they were all there for, and to deny any knowledge of the whole affair.

  But no emotion won, and so he simply stood there.

  “Drayden,” said Xain. His voice was like a serrated blade in a sheath of velvet. “Do you know what I hold in my hand?”

  “Dean Forredar,” said Kalem. It sounded as though he were trying a diplomatic tone, but his voice cracked, ruining the effect. “The three of us were—”

  “Shut up,” said Xain. Kalem did. Xain lifted the amulet a little higher. “This is the amulet of Kekhit. An artifact from the Academy vaults. Stolen from them. Stolen by you.”

  “That is not true, Dean,” said Theren. “The three of us—”

  “SILENCE!” Xain’s voice was like a bolt of thunder. The air itself crackled with the force of it. “Silence. The three of you are done talking. You have done too much of that already, and all of it has been lies. You have been behind the mindwyrd from the first. You concocted this story about Isra, when in truth you had killed her long ago and thrown her into the Great Bay. It was you who killed Credell, and Vali, and Oren. You three: a Drayden, and his accomplices.”

  Theren’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She bowed her head, casting her hair into her eyes.

  “Now you have my son. My son. You cannot know the lengths I have gone to for him already. And now I make you this promise: if he has been harmed in any way, there are no words for the pain I will make you endure.”

  Slowly Theren turned to her friends. She met Kalem’s eyes first, but only for a moment before she looked straight at Ebon.

  She gave him a little smile.

  “I told you,” she whispered. “From the first, I told you. Now run.”

  Ebon’s brow furrowed—and then at once he understood. He lifted a hand. “Theren, do not—”

  Magelight sprang into her eyes. Xain’s eyes flared in defense—but she did not attack him. With a blast, she threw Kalem and Ebon through the Academy’s open front door and into the street.

  “Run!” she screamed.

  Then she used her magic to seize the front doors and flung them shut.

  THOOM

  Kalem got to his feet and ran for the doors, where they could hear the sounds of blasts and explosions inside. But Ebon seized the back of his collar and dragged him away.

  “We cannot leave her!” said Kalem.

  “We will help her!” cried Ebon. “Somehow. But we must run. We must.”

  They did—and every time he heard a spell hammer against the iron doors behind him, Ebon hoped it was not the sound of his friend dying.

  thirty-five

  ADARA [19]

  They fled to Adara’s home. When he woke there the next morning, Ebon could not remember why he chose hers, and not his family’s manor. Doubtless Halab would have taken him in. Doubtless she would have protected him. But he could think only of Adara. And by some blessing of the sky, she had been there when they arrived, and ushered them in without question—though she had many questions once they were safely within.

  Ebon told her everything. Kalem added a word or two here or there, but mostly the boy sat in the corner and wept. And when he thought Ebon was not looking, he glared. How could Ebon blame him? The right thing to do—the honorable thing—would have been to return to the Academy and throw their lot in with Theren. But Ebon knew that they would never convince the faculty of their innocence—especially not Xain, who had hated him from the first. And mayhap, outside the Academy, they could come to some solution.

  Adara left once they had finished their tale, but only to put word out through the lover’s guild. By the next morning they learned that Theren was not dead, but was in custody of the Mystics. Ebon knew full well what that meant. His mind filled with visions of Lilith when he had visited her before, after she had languished under torture for days. The thought of that pain being visited upon Theren … his stomach clenched when he thought of it.

  After that first night, Ebon fully expected he would have to find another hiding place. But the moment he mentioned it, Adara shook her head and insisted that he and Kalem remain with her.

  “I will not turn you out,” she said. “And I may be of help to you.”

  “So might Mako, or others in my family,” said Ebon. “I should return to the manor. I should have gone there from the first.”

  Adara arched an eyebrow. “That would have been your death,” she said. “Do you not think that that is the first place the constables and Mystics would have gone to search for you? Doubtless they have agents posted in the streets around it even now.”

  Eon frowned, for indeed he had not thought of that. “But still, I only put you in danger by remaining here,” he said. “Mako knew of us, and he cannot be the only one.”

  “He very well could be,” said Adara. “Think of it—even the Lord Prince did not know until you appeared by my side, and he has his eyes and ears in every corner of the Seat.”

  Kalem straightened where he sat on the floor. “The Lord Prince! He must know that the constables seek for you. He could expose us.”

  “I have sent word. He will not intervene, though he is not happy about it,” said Adara flatly. “But while he will not act to harm us, for he believes me when I say that you are innocent, neither will he help us. He will only keep trying to find Isra before she wreaks more havoc. For
that is still what is most important, Ebon. Even with Theren’s peril, you cannot forget that. Isra means to kill again.”

  “Aye, and she means to kill goldbags,” said Ebon, folding his arms and slumping in his chair. “All of them, if she can. And now none of us are there to stop her, and the faculty do not even believe she is alive.”

  “What do you mean to do about it?” said Kalem, a strong current of annoyance in his voice.

  “We must flee the Seat,” said Ebon. Kalem gave an angry snort, and Adara looked at him in surprise. Ebon spread his hands. “It is the only way. What else is there? We can never prove our innocence now—not until Isra acts, and that may not be for a long while, until all this furor has died away.”

  “You mean to flee?” said Kalem, rising to his feet. “You would leave Theren here, suffering as the Mystics put her to the question? Often I defend your name to others, Ebon, but this is just in line with the dark tales your family seems to attract.”

  “Of course we will get Theren first,” said Ebon. He felt the heat of his blood rising in his ears. “Do you think I am so faithless? Stop looking for evil in my heart, Kalem. You are as bad as Xain.”

  Kalem glowered, but he lowered his eyes. “How do you mean to get her out?”

  “I do not know,” said Ebon quietly. “We need someone who … can do that sort of thing. We might tunnel up from beneath the Mystics’ holding cells, but it is risky, and I would not know how to get there in the sewers. I hope that Mako shows himself soon, though that is one thing I never thought to hear myself say.”

  “You mean to abandon the Academy, then?” said Adara. “You will let Isra kill the other children of merchants and royalty within it?”

  Ebon could not meet her gaze. “I do not know what else to do,” he said softly. “If we try to stop her, we will only be caught and killed ourselves. Of course I will try to help them, if we can think of a way to do it.”