by E B Rose
This was another issue Tesla didn’t quite agree with Eternal Pillar. They didn’t know exactly what the material could do. They didn’t even know where the dragon bones came from; whether they were just a valuable stone, or if they actually came from a dead dragon. If so, did that mean the Twelve Riders’ dragons were mortal?
Were the Riders themselves mortal?
There was no way to know for sure, because the Eternal Pillar was too cautious to approve any research topic that was remotely dangerous. Yet, they didn’t mind those disgusting Wording spells cast on Chinderian slaves.
And now, one of the recipients of those Wording spells, the Lion of Zarall, had a piece of dragon bone inside him. Moreover, according to Tesla’s premonitions, he was going to cause a destruction that would kill thousands of people.
Those visions weren’t just some bad dreams anymore; Tesla had seen Adept Belandir’s ritual. He’d witnessed the dragon bone artefact being placed inside the slave. If the rumours were true and dragon bones were used to create the Black Stain… Tesla had to take this information to Eternal Pillar. They might even have to inform Kiejain’s Army as well.
As soon as he saved himself from this situation.
Tesla turned on his side. His clothes grated against his skin, burnt and irritated it. The shackles had cut his flesh open. The blue dragonscale collar around his neck felt warm. His cell stunk of piss, faeces, vomit, and sour sweat. Some of that vomit belonged to Tesla. His sensory integration spell had worn off a while ago and the foul odour had struck Tesla hard. The mix of smells still tortured him, but he didn’t have anything left in his stomach to throw up.
He heard approaching sounds; heavy boots rapping against the stone floors; doors creaking open and slamming shut. Keys jingled outside his door. Metal clanked against metal, and his cell’s door opened wide.
Tesla slammed his eyes shut and stifled a moan. The light stabbed his head. It was only a lantern, with the support of the torches in the hallway, but after the pitch-black darkness of his cell, and combined with the sensitivity of his eyes, he felt like someone had cast a blinding spell on him.
A woman was speaking, but Tesla couldn’t pick out any words. Her voice was too loud, echoing and drilling right into his brain. Tesla cried out in pain. His own voice tormented his ears too.
“... wrong with him...?”
Hands like iron clamps grabbed him by the arms and pulled him up on his feet. Tesla ducked his head between his shoulders, trying to hide from the light and the sounds. A pair of softer hands touched his face, forcing him to look up. Tesla took a laboured breath and willed himself to calm down, or to at least endure the pain.
“You’re miserable without your magic, aren’t you?” Queen Inoeveth said, pursing her lips.
“You can’t... do this... Eternal Pillar...”
“Castle Brinescar will not welcome another so-called investigator, before Eternal Pillar explains the crimes their representative has committed against the crown of Chinderia.”
“The King lied...”
“You attacked the King’s household with a Farhome spell, trespassed, and assaulted two members of the royal family. And your excuse was... the King told you the tower was burnt, and it wasn’t.”
“I’ll tell them what I saw...”
Queen Inoeveth smiled. “No, you won’t.” She stepped back and gestured at the two men to drag Tesla outside.
Pain exploded in Tesla’s temples when he stepped into the bright hallway. He turned his head down, closed his eyes tight, and groaned quietly.
“Can’t be just the collar,” Prince Lotheris said behind him. “Look at him...”
“It doesn’t matter,” Inoeveth dismissed. “It’ll be over soon.”
After endless turns in the bright hallways, they stepped outside the dungeons. The cold, night breeze stabbed Tesla’s skin like icicles. Frozen blades snuck inside his clothes and cut his flesh. Tesla’s knees buckled and the men dragged him.
A vague amount of time later, Tesla found himself in the back of a moving cart. He struggled against his shackles. He only half-cared about where they were taking him; all he could think was to get that collar off his neck, so he could cast the integration spell and dim the world again. A kick in his ribs ceased Tesla’s thrashing, and for a blessed moment, supressed all his senses as well.
“Where are you taking me?” Tesla demanded.
“Quiet!” an unfamiliar voice barked.
Tesla opened his eyes to slits. Stars blinked at him above. The air smelt less foul than his cell, but it still made his stomach heave. Tesla closed his eyes, curled up on himself. He focused on taking steady breaths and collecting his thoughts. He needed to get out of this situation.
An overwhelming smell of salt water and dead fish almost knocked him out. He screamed.
“I need him to walk,” Queen Inoeveth said somewhere nearby.
“I don’t think he can,” Lotheris said.
“I prefer they see him alive and well. Not like this.”
The cart came to a stop. Tesla heard a distant roar. A couple of men with Vogros uniforms carried him down. They supported Tesla to stand on feeble legs, and walked him slowly.
Soon, the paved road under Tesla’s feet was replaced by wood. The roar grew louder at each step. Tesla’s head wobbled on his shoulders as he tried to look around.
They were at the docks. The thunderous roar was the waves smashing against the pier. He noticed a group of men dressed in silly white robes, clustered together. Queen Inoeveth was talking to them.
“Wait until the ship is clear off the city,” Prince Lotheris instructed quietly. “Finish him off, then take the collar with you.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” said one of the men who supported Tesla.
“Is everything ready, Captain?”
The ship’s captain walked down the plank between the ship and pier. “We’re good to go, Your Highness. I’ve only called my skeleton crew.”
“Good. When you burn the ship, make sure you’re within sight of Reiham. I need the whole city to witness this tragic accident. Keep your men’s mouths shut, and return to Brinescar for your payment and your new ship.”
“Yes, Your Highness. Thank you, Your Highness.”
“You can’t... you can’t do this...” Tesla babbled.
“Witnesses are all set,” Inoeveth said when she joined them.
Tesla tilted his head in the direction of the white-robed men. He recognized Adept Kato amongst them. “Help...” Tesla whispered. “Help me...”
“They won’t help you, critter,” Inoeveth said. She flashed a hateful smile. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Adept Teslaturahel. Enjoy Farhome.” She nodded at the men to carry him into the ship. Tesla struggled with all his strength as they carried him up the plank and onto the ship, where they would kill him.
At least the world would calm down, he thought bitterly.
The ship rocked like a cradle and Tesla threw up bile on one of his soon-to-be murderer’s boots. The man cursed and kept Tesla at arm’s length. They lowered him down a hatch and inside the ship.
Their last stop was a small, dark room with straw covered floorboards. The movement of the ship had caused Tesla to lose his sense of direction, but the room was darker and slightly quieter. Tesla’s consciousness blinked in and out, and his thoughts gained a resemblance of cohesion.
The men were in the room with him; one was sitting on a chair, and the other leaned against the wall. They both eyed him impatiently, wanting to get over with this.
There was information Tesla needed to remember. He had the feeling that his life depended on it. A way out. A spell he could cast.
A spell he had already casted!
“Air,” Tesla moaned. “I need some air. Please...”
The men didn’t respond.
“I’ll throw up,” Tesla said gagging. “Need air...”
One of the men grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and hauled him towards the window. Tesla bit inside his
cheek. Blood filled his mouth. He pressed his face against the small, round window. When he breathed, the cold night air and the smell of salt water hit him hard. He steadied himself on his legs, and spat his blood out the window.
“What was that?” the other man asked, alarmed.
The man who held Tesla threw him back down on the floor. “I don’t know,” he said, glancing outside. “He spat something.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Me neither.” The man pulled his knife out and turned to Tesla.
“What are you doing? Prince Lotheris told us to wait until the city is out of sight.”
“What difference is that gonna make?”
“I don’t know, but our orders are to...”
“Prince Lotheris won’t care as long the deed is done.”
“No, wait...” Tesla begged. He tried to scramble away from the man. “Wait, just wait, please...”
Tesla’s spell - his trap - required time to activate. His blood was going to wake the monster he’d left at the bottom of the sea, and summon it to him. He didn’t know how much time he needed - he’d never used that trap before - but he didn’t have more than a few seconds.
He kicked the man’s shin, which only fuelled his murderous intent. He grabbed Tesla by the front of his shirt. Tesla kicked and thrashed madly, his shirt ripped, and the man dropped him.
The man bent again and this time, he lifted Tesla by the dragonscale collar.
The knife plunged in Tesla’s lower abdomen.
He’d never been stabbed before. At first, he didn’t feel any pain, and he questioned whether the knife hit its target or not. When the man pulled the knife out, warm blood spilt on Tesla’s shirt and trickled down his hips. The pain came only after he looked and acknowledged the wound. It was a stinging pain; it burnt and felt cold at the same time. Tesla’s knees buckled.
The man continued to hold him by the blue dragonscale collar, while Tesla let his whole weight down. The man yanked him up while readying his knife to stab for a second time.
The collar snapped open and Tesla fell on his bottom.
Time stopped. The man looked at the empty collar in his hand, blinking.
Although Tesla still had the shock of being stabbed, he reacted quicker.
He started chanting a fire spell that didn’t require hand gestures.
The Vogros man snapped out of his confusion, raised his knife, and threw himself at Tesla as the mage cried out the last word of his spell.
Flames exploded on the man’s face. His clothes caught on fire. He flailed his arms, then dropped down and rolled on the floor, to put the flames out. The second man moved to help him out, hesitated, then turned to Tesla. He pulled his sword out, and lunged at the mage.
Tesla didn’t have the time to speak more than a word. He raised his legs - his stab wound burnt - in an attempt to kick the man off. It didn’t gain him more than a split second.
Then, a loud thud shook the ship violently. The second man lost his balance. Tesla kicked his knees, sending him to the ground. He started casting another fire spell, but couldn’t finish his chanting.
The ship took another hit, and everything jumbled together; Tesla slid down on the floor as the walls on his left side became down. He hit his shoulder and almost got crushed under the weight of one of the men. Salt water came in through the windows. People yelled on the decks above - or below, or to his left, he wasn’t sure anymore. Tesla yelled too.
The room shifted, and Tesla felt light as if he was flying. They were flying… or rather falling.
He caught a glimpse of a bright blue, long, scaled body, outside the windows. It was his monster; the trap he’d set. It roared furiously, then smashed the ship hard against the waves.
Everything was a complete chaos. Tesla’s body swung from side to side. The ship creaked and cracked; the men screamed. Salt water filled the room. Tesla’s wound burnt. He plunged under the water, and lost his sense of direction.
He floated helplessly; his arms still shackled behind him. For precious brief seconds, his head rose above the surface and he drew a deep breath in. He was still somewhere inside the ship. As a class three mage, he knew almost half a dozen spells that would allow him to breathe underwater, or shapeshift into a fish, but all required ingredients or hand gestures. He remembered a force spell that could break his shackles, if he could find a way to direct it...
The ship went back down under the water. Tesla frantically searched for a window, or a gap to swim outside. All he needed was a moment’s break from this chaos, a mouthful of air to speak, and some luck.
He had none.
The water around him turned red. His stomach throbbed. He noticed his senses were united and cohesive in the last few minutes of his life. He wanted to laugh. So, this was how he was going to die; stabbed and drowned, killed by his own spell. He was filled with a sense of revelation, as if he’d just solved all the mystery in Earthome, and the answer was all just a big pile of horseshit.
34
BEAST
The water was growing cold.
Beast took the soap and the sponge from the edge of the tub and spent the next fifteen minutes scrubbing his skin roughly. He was trying to remember the last time he had a bath like this. Badimar used to send him to the servants’ bath house at the castle every day. Master Raydon used to take him there before every feast, where Lion of Zarall would be displayed to King Leonis’s guests.
Was he missing that life? He was treated well then. He trained with a variety of weapons. He fought. He knew his duties. He had the bliss of not wanting anything. It was a simpler life.
The water had turned black with dirt. Beast scowled at it. The colour reminded him of the flooded cave and the demon’s warning. He was filled with a sense of foreboding. Beast rinsed the soap off his body and climbed out of the tub.
With all four on fast horses, they’d arrived at Calae the next day after the ambush. They’d checked into an expensive inn and used the last of their money to hire a spacious room. Ink had left after taking his bath. Lygor had told the others to get cleaned up and prepare.
The bath tub was separated from the rest of the room with a screen divider. Beast could hear Valnar and Lygor’s voices behind it. He used the towel left for him and dried himself. The cotton shirt and breeches were once again Valnar’s spares. He put them on.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lygor was saying when Beast came out from behind the divider. “Kastian hardly even acknowledges them.”
Beast stood by the window and watched them getting ready. Their belongings scattered everywhere in the room. It was chaotic. Valnar sat in one corner, with pieces of a full plate armour spread around him. Lygor stood in front of a mirror, with a wash basin, soap, and razor. Half his face was still soapy, the other half shaved clean.
“And for a reason,” Valnar grunted. “They don’t have a lot of power.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Lygor said, as he slid the razor down his cheek. “Haven’t you ever read the scholar Syltoris Windflaw? He says, ‘power is defined by your opponent’. Do you know what that means?”
Valnar continued to scrub his breastplate until it shone. It wasn’t the one he wore on the road, with Kiejain’s symbol on its chest. This was his second set of armour, which he had kept concealed in their bags. It seemed to be made for ceremonial purposes, rather than to be worn in actual battle. It had a black lion figure on its chest.
The coat of arms for House Zarall.
“It sounds like the ramblings of some scholar who’s never been in a real fight,” Valnar grunted.
Lygor laughed. He wiped his face with a towel and checked if he’d missed any spots. His cleanest and best outfits were spread on the bed. He put his shirt on and picked a black and golden doublet with Zarall coat of arms stitched on it. He noticed Beast as he did his buttons. “What do you think, Beast? What does the scholar mean?”
“Sure, ask the slave to decipher Syltoris Windflaw.” Valnar shook his head. He st
ood up and picked his tunic and vest to go under the armour.
Lygor ignored him. “‘Power is defined by your opponent’. What do you get from this?”
Beast scratched his chin. It was stubbled by short, rough hair. He understood what the statement meant, but didn’t agree. He was reluctant to say more than; “Power is power, Master.”
Valnar laughed while Lygor’s smile faltered. The knight set to putting his steel boots and greaves on. “See, even the slave knows.”
“Whatever your enemy’s greatest weakness is, can be your power,” Lygor explained. He tossed Beast a comb to brush his hair. “If you know what that is, you can defeat anyone.”
“A knife in the throat,” Beast said quietly as he ran the comb through his wet hair. The process was a lot less unpleasant than he’d have expected. His blonde hair was only three fingers long, curled just over his ears. The knots untangled easily.
“Excuse me?” Lygor asked, not hearing him.
“A knife in the throat can be anyone’s weakness, Master.”
Valnar laughed again. Lygor’s jaw moved from side to side. “Killing is not the only way to defeat someone.”
“I’ve never seen a victorious corpse, Master.”
“Yeah? Then why did Kastian kill your woman?”
Beast brought the comb down. His face turned to the carpet covered floor. A pit opened at the bottom of his stomach and his heart fell down. When Saradra’s smiling face flashed in front of his eyes, his throat felt tight.
Lygor took a step forward.
“And in such a horrible way? Because, a knife in your throat wasn’t enough. He had to defeat you. Truly. And he believed Saradra was your weakness.”
Anger crawled into Beast’s chest. He took a deep breath to extinguish it, but only succeeded to flare it up. He stood tall and looked directly into Lygor’s blue eyes. “Am I defeated, Master?”
Lygor grinned. “I said he believed she was your weakness. He got that part wrong. Lose the shirt.”
The sudden change of subject startled Beast. He took his shirt off after a slight delay. Lygor rummaged through his bags and tossed him a velvet vest with Zarall colours. It was too small for him.