by E B Rose
Lotheris scoffed. “I’ll call the next one,” he said as he stood up.
Tesla almost stopped him. He’d already concluded these interviews were not going to get him anywhere. However, his instincts told him he should go with it, so he did. The next two soldiers they interviewed gave the exact same description. Tesla had to bite his cheek to stop his face from cringing, every time the men said crackling sound and blinding light, and flames trickling down like a waterfall.
When they finished for the day, Tesla excused himself and returned to Adept Belandir’s quarters. On the first night he spent in this room, Tesla was up all night, studying every item in the room and casting revelation spells on every corner. He didn’t find any trace of the book Adept Belandir was hiding in his secret compartment. He didn’t bother asking about it, guessing Lotheris would have pretended like he had no idea.
The interviews weren’t going to get him anywhere either. Tesla was stuck.
He looked out the window. Adept Belandir’s quarters were overlooking the training yard near the south walls. The sun was about to set, and the soldiers were heading towards the barracks for their shift change.
Tesla rubbed his neck thoughtfully. He’d confirmed Adept Belandir had used Darkhome magic, so his hands weren’t completely empty. Yet, a rogue mage casting Darkhome spells could mean a disaster for every mage. So, Tesla needed to find out exactly what Adept Belandir was working on.
A light knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” Tesla called.
A man with a slave tattoo walked in, carrying Tesla’s dinner. Tesla had rarely seen slaves at Castle Brinescar. He wondered if there was any reason for it. The slave left Tesla’s dinner at the table and headed back towards the door.
“Wait.”
The slave paused. He clasped his hands in front of him, sagged his shoulders and waited.
Tesla chewed his lips. It looked like a brilliant idea five seconds ago. Now, he was realizing it was a brilliant idea that could get him into trouble. He decided to take the risk. His investigation was stumped.
He pulled out a couple of chairs and placed them facing each other. “Sit down, please.”
The slave’s face blanched, but he complied. He seemed to be in his late thirties, an old age for a slave. The tattoo identified him as a freeborn. There were asymmetrical creases around his eyes that bothered Tesla, but he managed to ignore them. The slave sat hunched, his hands between his knees, trembling slightly as if Tesla was about to strike him.
“Relax,” Tesla said as he sat on the other chair. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
The slave pressed his lips together.
“What is your name?”
“I am called Blue, Master.”
“Okay, Blue.” Tesla had heard worse slave names. “How long have you lived here for?”
“Ten years, Master,” Blue said, barely moving his lips. His eyes were narrowed, which made the creases appear deeper. The right side had more lines than the left. Discomfort bugged Tesla like an attention-seeking child.
“So, you were here on the night of the coup?” Tesla managed to pull his attention away from the slave’s asymmetrical creases. When Blue gave him a subtle nod, Tesla leaned back, rubbing his chin. He had to choose his next question carefully. “Have you ever served the man who stayed in this room before me?”
Another subtle nod, but no words.
“Have you seen what happened at the northern tower that night?”
Blue shook his head.
“Adept Belandir killed a lot of men with himself that night. Did you know anyone who died there?”
Uneven creases grabbed Tesla’s attention again when Blue grimaced. “Please, Master, I don’t wanna get into trouble.”
Tesla forced himself to look at the slave’s hands and almost cursed when he spotted age marks at the back of his hands. Irregular, unequal age marks. He closed his eyes, breathing steadily, and focused on the subject. “I won’t tell anyone of our conversation. I promise.”
The slave sent a tentative glance his way. “There were a couple of Zarall soldiers who switched sides that night. They died in the tower.”
Tesla bit his nails as he thought of his next question. “Have you heard if anyone survived?”
Blue nodded.
“They did?” Tesla leaned forward, his heart skipping a beat. He forgot all about the slave’s asymmetrical creases and irregular age marks. Lotheris had told him the tower was completely destroyed and they couldn’t even recover bodies, let alone search for survivors. “Who? Who was it? How?”
“They... He... I’ve heard he surrendered at the bottom of the tower. They say... he was covered in blood and gore, from head to toe.”
“Surrendered?” Tesla’s mouth was dry. He also felt a dash of anger for being deceived. “They captured Adept Belandir alive?”
Blue blinked, confused. “No... No, they were all dead. He... He ripped them all apart. Master Belandir too.”
“Who did?”
Tesla almost yelled. His heart was racing. He fought the urge to grab Blue by his shoulders and shake the truth out of him. Blue glanced towards the door. He licked his pale lips and managed to look smaller.
“Who? Who did they capture?” Tesla asked again, trying to sound calm.
“The Lion of Zarall.”
“The Lion...” Tesla’s forehead creased. “The slave everyone whispers about? Was he there that night?”
Blue nodded.
“What... Why?”
“I... I don’t know, Master. Please...”
“Did Lion of Zarall kill all those men? Adept Belandir too? Or was he aiding him? Why?”
“I don’t know, Master. Please, may I go?”
“Where is he now?”
“They sent him to White Tower after...” After mentioning the name White Tower, Blue paused. He started breathing rapidly and wavered as if he was about to faint. “They’ll... they’ll send me too. Please, please, Master, I have to get back.”
Tesla gritted his teeth out of frustration. He still had questions, but he could see how terrified the slave was for talking to him. Poor man couldn’t even breathe. “Okay. Okay, you may go...”
Blue dashed out of his chair before Tesla could say another word. The man let himself out, closing the door behind him.
Tesla sat still, staring at the empty chair in front of him. His mind was humming with thoughts and ideas. Lion of Zarall was with Adept Belandir that night. And the King kept this information from him. Why?
Tesla debated whether he should confront Kastian about this or not. He couldn’t predict how Kastian might behave if accused of lying. And based on what? He had no proof other than a scared slave’s words.
Proving the King’s dishonesty wasn’t important. Tesla’s mission was to find out what Adept Belandir did and take that information to Eternal Pillar with him. He was starting to realize he would have to break a few rules for it.
*
When Tesla sat down to have his dinner, it was cold. He considered casting a heating spell to warm it up, but decided not to waste his strength on this. He ate it cold. He wouldn’t have enjoyed it even if it was warm anyway. He was too excited and distracted about what he was planning to do.
The sun was down. Tesla could hear the King’s feast starting. He found it odd that the royal family served dinner and entertainment every night. It must have cost a fortune. He scratched his nose, noticing a small part of him felt jealous for not being invited, though he could understand why. Kastian didn’t want him to attract too much attention, and Tesla didn’t like crowds anyway.
He sat down by the window and buried himself in a heavy tome. As he predicted, someone came in to clear his plates and heat some water for his bath. It was a different slave, another freeborn. Tesla wondered if he got Blue in trouble.
When the slave left, Tesla put his book down. He glanced outside to estimate when the feast would end. He still had a few hours. He sat down at Adept Belandir’s desk and started hi
s preparations. He imbued ordinary objects with spells; mixed ingredients in clear vials; and memorized passages from his spell book.
By the time the sounds of the feast started to die, Tesla’s back and neck were aching from sitting. The sharp smell of the ingredients started to bother his nose. The shirt and pants he was wearing felt too rough and irritated his skin. His sensory integration spell was slowly fading; his senses were being overwhelmed again. He pushed everything aside and refreshed the spell. The world dimmed again and he embraced the peace.
After he finished his preparations, he loaded everything into one of his bags and hung it across his shoulders.
He took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door. The hallway was illuminated generously with lanterns along the walls. He turned right and started walking.
“Adept Teslaturahel, can I help you?”
Tesla froze. He’d suspected his room was being watched. That’s why he’d made his preparations. He turned to find an old servant, standing at the other end of the hallway.
“I’m all good, thank you,” Tesla said dismissively. He slid a hand into his bag and found one of the wooden sticks.
“Can I bring you anything, Adept?”
Tesla offered him a cold smile. “I’m just going for a walk.”
The servant’s eyes flickered to Tesla’s bags. He took a step forward. “Allow me to accompany you, Adept.”
“I’ll be fine on my own, thank you.”
The servant forced a nod. Tesla watched the man’s expression change from polite to suspicious. “As you wish, Adept,” the servant said with a plastered smile and turned. Tesla had no doubt the man was on his way to inform Lotheris, if not Kastian himself.
“Wait.”
The servant halted.
“I apologize for this.” Tesla said as he took the wooden stick out and snapped it in half. The spell he’d charged it with was now activated. The servant blinked, confused. Then, his eyes rolled back in his skull, and he collapsed like an empty sack.
Tesla’s heart was racing. He looked around in panic. He’d never done anything like this. Casting a spell that had an aggressive effect on another human being was frowned upon by Eternal Pillar. He didn’t have much choice though; Kastian was hiding information from him, and was watching his room.
Tesla was in enemy territory. The realization twisted his stomach.
Tesla opened his bedroom door and dragged the servant’s limp body inside. The man wasn’t harmed, he was just going to sleep for maybe ten hours. Tesla spied the hallway carefully and set out again.
He would have to leave the castle after tonight. Eternal Pillar was going to grill him for attacking the King’s household. If Tesla couldn’t find proof that Kastian was hiding information relating to a Darkhome plot, his career was done.
He snuck his hand in his bag and caressed the remaining two sticks. He checked before turning every corner and flinched at every sound. A couple of times, he heard sounds coming his way and changed directions. Once, when he had no other way to go, he placed three wooden disks on the floor to the side, stood still inside them, and whispered a spell. A couple of armed guards patrolled the hallway, not seeing him, despite walking past an arm’s reach from Tesla. The mage exhaled sharply when they were far enough away. He picked up his disks with shaky hands and continued on his way.
When he neared the northern wing, he paused to look out a wide window. A tall tower climbed towards the night sky. Tesla gritted his teeth. The northern tower neither looked demolished, nor burnt. Not even charred. This would have to be proof enough that Kastian was misleading an Eternal Pillar investigation.
When he reached a wide corridor and an arched entrance leading up to the tower, Tesla’s worries were replaced by curiosity. Adept Belandir had died here. Tesla was about to find out why and how.
He climbed up the spiralling steps in darkness. He didn’t dare conjure some light, afraid it would seep out of the round windows and attract attention. He guided himself with his hand on the wall, picking his steps carefully.
The chamber at the top of the tower had large windows which invited the dim light of the moon in. As soon as Tesla stepped inside, all the hair on his arm stood up. He gasped. The room was buzzing with invisible traces of magic, sourced from both Farhome and Darkhome. He steadied himself with his hand against the doorframe. After putting his bag down, he set to work.
Tesla didn’t need to reverse the date inside the room to the night of the coup, like he did in Adept Belandir’s quarters. The traces of the spells cast that night still lingered despite the months that had passed. He followed them to the centre of the room. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust. Tesla’s steps disturbed it.
There were a couple of spells he could cast to reveal what spells were used here. One allowed him to hear the words spoken, but he couldn’t risk hearing the Darkmagic passages, in case they’d have an effect on the listener. He settled for one that would show him the objects or materials used for the spell.
He took out three candles, lit them, and placed them to form a triangle around the centre of the room. He stood outside the triangle and cast his spell.
A pale, white body appeared on the floor. Its features were blurry and Tesla couldn’t make out its face. Red strings wrapped the body. They formed shapes, letters, and words. Tesla had seen this before, years ago, when he was conducting his research. This was what a purebred slave’s rhoa looked like; imprisoned and tortured by spells that should be forbidden.
A circle of blood appeared around the rhoa, formed runes. Tesla tilted his head sideways, studying the symbols. He etched whatever he could in his memory.
A second blur appeared next to the slave’s. Tesla recognized Adept Belandir’s rhoa. A knife gleamed and Adept Belandir carved the slave’s chest open. Red strings throbbed, and the slave’s rhoa faded.
Tesla walked around the candles to see from a better angle. Adept Belandir took an item out of his pocket and pushed it inside the slave’s chest. He sat still, his head wavering on his shoulders. The slave’s rhoa remained faded white, not moving.
Tesla couldn’t reign his curiosity. He threw caution in the wind and stepped inside the triangle. He had to see the item Adept Belandir had jammed inside the slave’s flesh.
Tesla only had a second to look, but it was enough.
“A dragon bone!” He whispered. “No...”
Adept Belandir pulled the knife out and plunged it into his own heart. He slumped forward, bleeding on the slave’s body. Tesla gasped in horror. This was dark; darker than he’d expected to see.
A black smoke wrapped their bodies. The red bounds on the slave’s rhoa pulsed and throbbed.
Tesla stumbled backwards and knocked one of the candles down. He bent down to pick it up and light it again, before the visions disappeared. He had to see what happened next.
As he bent, a hot wave flew over his head.
Tesla cast a protection spell instinctively. The second wave of flames met an invisible barrier around Tesla’s body. They consumed Tesla’s protective spell, but dissolved without harming him.
Tesla spotted where the attack originated from, pointed his hand in that direction, and yelled a second spell. Air sizzled around his hand and a blue lightning shot forward. It struck the attacker on his chest and threw him across the room.
Tesla opened his mouth to cast a detaining spell on the man. His mind had just started registering what was happening. He was being attacked! Here. Why? By whom? He was going to find out.
He raised his arms to unleash the spell, but found them too heavy and sluggish. Black strings, light as a breeze, grasped his arms, pinning them against his sides.
There was a second attacker.
Most Earthome spells required voice and hand gestures. With his hands bound, Tesla’s options were limited. However, there was a fire spell that he could use without his hands - at the cost of precision. He didn’t have much choice.
His second attacker acted before Tesla could
voice the spell. He heard the commanding voice of a woman. Then, a black smudge covered Tesla’s face and mouth. It blinded his eyes, cut off his air, and interrupted his spell.
With his hands tied and mouth covered, Tesla was neutralized.
He collapsed on the floor, struggling against the strings, trying to pull the smudge off his face. His lungs were screaming for air. He heard muffled speech; a man and a woman. She had a familiar accent. Tesla’s panicking mind couldn’t retrieve any more information on that. He was about to pass out.
Cold metal touched his neck. It clamped around his throat. Then, the smudge peeled off his face and Tesla was able to breathe again. He turned to his side, gasping and coughing. With his second breath, he spoke the words of the fire spell.
Nothing happened.
“Are you okay?” The woman asked. Something in her tone informed Tesla she wasn’t talking to him.
The man whom Tesla had struck with his lightning spell was breathing hard. He swore as he stood up. “Fuck, that hurt!”
“Language, dear.”
Tesla repeated his fire spell. He remembered a blinding spell that he could use without gestures. He cast it, only to see no effects.
“Don’t waste your breath, critter” the woman said mockingly. Where did Tesla know this accent from? She drummed her long nails on the metal collar around Tesla’s neck. “I’ve got this made from blue dragonscale. Courtesy of King Leonis. That dumb idiot had no idea what lay in his private collection of artefacts.”
“You are both in utmost trouble!” Tesla gasped. “You’ve attacked a representative of Eternal Pillar on a formal mission!”
The woman chuckled. The man raised his shirt to examine the nasty burn on his chest. He limped close enough to reveal his face to Tesla in the light of the two remaining candles.
“Prince Lotheris!” Tesla rolled on his back and strained his neck to see the woman. He didn’t recognize her face, but figured out who she was from the short cropped dark hair, and the elegant crown that rested on her forehead. “Queen... Inoeveth?”
Queen Inoeveth flashed him a smile that had nothing to do with joy. “Take a deep breath, critter.” The Queen turned her palm towards Tesla and her lips whispered a spell. Another black smudge smothered Tesla’s face, burying his surprise into darkness.