by Nichols, TJ
Saka was sure there would always be magic users. They would just get better at hiding it. But the human world was going to suffer before things got better, and he couldn’t take Angus away from it. Angus had to stay in his world and take his place as a magic user. He had treated Angus too much like a demon instead of like a human.
Angus faced him. While he didn’t say anything, he shook his head slightly.
What did that mean?
“You aren’t a sportsman,” Saka said. Angus would die if he were to play pitz.
“No, but I am a magic user. A little warlock, a little mage, now to be a little priest.” He shrugged. “How does it work?”
“You send your demon back, then Kabil”—Cadmael pointed at the man who’d been told to leave and stay and had chosen to obey Saka instead of the priest—“will open the void for the first time, and because he’s met Mage Saka, it will open for him. It’s not that different from when you first made the link to Saka.”
Saka had wanted a bond with a warlock that time. This time he’d have to accept it. Like all mages, Saka had been taught how to turn away. But too many had done that because they didn’t want to be bound to a warlock. If they hadn’t shirked their duty as teachers, perhaps the Warlock College wouldn’t have gone down such a destructive path.
Angus smiled as though he knew what Saka was thinking. Maybe he’d already realized that things could be made to go wrong. “And if it fails?”
“It won’t fail,” Cadmael said with far too much surety. Maybe the mages here didn’t know how to turn away the bond, or maybe they were happy to make it. Saka didn’t know enough.
Saka held Angus’s gaze. It was a risky move, but if it were Angus opening the void he’d respond in a heartbeat. For a moment he wanted to go and take Angus with him and try for a different ally. Another trek could kill Angus, but staying here would kill Angus if they didn’t obey or at least appear to obey.
Angus put his hand on Saka’s chest and then leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Do not open the void unless it’s me or Terrance. Trust me.”
Saka returned the kiss. “This isn’t worth dying for.”
If Saka turned away Kabil, then what retribution would there be? Would Angus be thrown onto the pitz court regardless? It would be safer to accept the bond with Kabil—or at least safer for the moment and safer for Angus.
“It’s my turn to save you.” Angus opened the void.
Saka hesitated, but Angus gave him a small nod, which Saka reluctantly returned before he stepped back.
The stones were cool in Demonside, but he didn’t stand and wait by the pillars for Kabil’s summoning. He walked away as though his job were done, but that wouldn’t be enough. Cadmael would make Iktan search for him, so he needed to leave the village and find a place to hide. That thought almost stopped his steps. He was running and hiding when he should be fighting. Was it a mistake?
Did Angus actually know what he was doing? He was young and untrained… but he was living among the Mayans, so maybe he understood them better.
He forced himself to keep walking past the two guards. He had to trust Angus that turning away Kabil was the best thing to do. Letting someone else save him sat wrong in his gut. He was so used to being the one to help Angus that he didn’t like leaving him alone and unprotected. When he glanced over his shoulder and was unable to see the guards, he ran toward the village. He wouldn’t have long to get what he needed and leave.
In town he kept his pace brisk as though he were doing something very important. From his room he gathered only a waterskin and his knife. He could live without the rest. Then he walked into the jungle, although his heart still wanted to be at the doorway, to be there for Angus.
A ripple ran over his skin—the tug of the void, calling him back to the doorway. But it wasn’t Angus summoning him. The touch was unfamiliar and tentative and too far away because it was bound to the doorway made of stones. But he knew where the doorway was, could feel the pull, even though he couldn’t see it. How far did the doorway’s power reach? He was used to the void opening only a body length from him. He wanted Angus to be able to summon him without needing the doorway. He might have to walk for days for that to be possible.
Saka brushed aside the contact, knowing it would fall on another. At least that was the way it worked at Lifeblood, but he wasn’t sure how it worked here. For a moment, guilt tightened around him, but he drew in a breath and kept walking. He had to trust Angus.
It was only when he reached the underground lake with the caved-in roof and the large things swimming far below that he stopped. Then he climbed into the branches of a tree until he was hidden.
The urgency that had filled him fled and left him hollow. He’d abandoned Angus to face the consequences of their plan. Cadmael would be unimpressed and demanding answers. Saka should’ve ignored Angus and accepted Kabil. It would have been safer in the short term. And what of Terrance? Angus truly thought he could play pitz and win, but Saka held no such hope. Nor did he want his warlock to play their game. What would happen now that he’d turned Kabil away?
His chest wanted to cave in. He couldn’t lose Angus.
Knowing Angus had made him more human and more selfish. Where once he would’ve sacrificed everything for magic and his tribe, now he weighed each cost. Angus had deemed it a worthy risk and he was willing to pay for their shared illusion of freedom. But now that they had committed to this course, going back would only make it worse.
He was a failed mage and a coward.
Chapter Six
Angus’s palm was still warm from the heat of Saka’s skin. He’d wanted to speak with him longer—have longer to hold him and longer to plan what they should do next. He curled his fingers to hold on to the heat, knowing that even if he opened the void to summon Saka, he probably wouldn’t come, not the first time anyway, and maybe not for several days.
Adrenaline made his heart quicken. This was as dangerous as standing up to the college. He was almost certain that when Kabil tried, Saka wouldn’t respond. They had agreed, and though he knew Saka didn’t like it, it was something Angus had to do. He wouldn’t share Saka with someone he’d just met. That place was for Terrance. And he refused to think about the game and what could happen. He couldn’t think that far ahead.
If Saka didn’t respond to Kabil’s summons, what would happen to Saka… and to him? His stomach knotted, but it had to be like this. He didn’t want a stranger, a Mayan priest they didn’t know and couldn’t trust, to have any kind of power over Saka—but Terrance….
For a moment in the desert, they had briefly talked about more between the three of them, and he held on to that. When they were reunited, they would see what kind of magic they could draw up.
But he didn’t give a damn about magic right then. It had never done anything but complicate his life. No matter how interesting or amazing it was, it always came at a cost, and he was running out of ways to pay.
All he had left was his life, and he was sure the Mayans would happily take it.
They didn’t need him. He needed them. They could turn him over to the college, but he’d rather die here than in Vinland. He was a traitor to the core.
He turned to glance at Cadmael, hoping to stall the moment for as long as possible. “So what happens now? What’s the point of all of this? Aside from making sure you can control me and supervise me?”
“It’s not about control. Supervise?” Cadmael nodded. “You never finished your first year at the college. You’ve trained with demons. Your magical education is a patchwork of ideas. Like Vinland, we have training that is required for your safety as well as everyone else’s. Vinland took the idea of formal training from us.”
“Why didn’t they take the shared-demon idea?”
Cadmael stared at him. “They did at first. They took the idea of payment and rebalancing as seriously as we do. But….” He shrugged. “Something went wrong, and they twisted the ideals to build power. Magic isn’t about power.”
“I know you are. That doesn’t mean we want to share knowledge with you. You think of magic as a small thing. Of individual acts. It’s not.” Cadmael touched his heart. “Everyone has magic, but not all can access it in life.”
The cult of death and blood. He’d hoped that was Vinnish propaganda to stop people from fleeing south, but so far, it was looking like the truth.
“Kabil, focus on Saka and open the void,” Cadmael commanded.
Kabil had the decency to look uncomfortable. Because he didn’t want the stigma of having a Vinnish warlock and a red demon? Or because he knew he was unwelcome and taking another man’s place?
It was too soon. Saka needed a chance to get away from Iktan. Angus didn’t know how well Saka was guarded or how closely he was watched. “So that’s it? We don’t get to know each other first and discover if it’s truly a good fit?”
“Usually that would happen,” Kabil said before Cadmael could get a word in. Kabil had said a few things that Cadmael didn’t like, which only made Angus more certain he’d made the right choice. Since he had to make one, and Kabil could be someone interesting to get to know.
“This is different. Don’t you want to be free to walk around and see your friends?”
He did, but not at the cost of Saka’s freedom. If they were bound to a priest, neither of them would be free. Angus hadn’t been free from the moment he started showing signs of being able to use magic, long before he was sent to college.
“I do. I want to see Terrance.” Was it love or was it desperation that made him say that? It didn’t matter if he died. Angus wasn’t ready for Terrance to be gone. He’d never be ready. Maybe it was love? How did he love Terrance and Saka? Or could he love neither of them properly?
“You can see him before the game.”
To say goodbye? No. Terrance would win. He had to. Angus hadn’t said goodbye to Saka either. What if that was the last time he saw him? Would the mages across the void do something to him? He tried to think of other options, other plans they could’ve made in those few heartbeats, but he came up with nothing. They’d done the best they could, but would that ever be enough?
“Open the void, Kabil,” Cadmael ordered. “What are you waiting for?”
“I didn’t think we’d be doing this today. I thought—”
“It doesn’t matter what you thought. This is what is happening.”
Kabil moved his hand, palm down, like he was wiping away a circle. The void shimmered open. For a moment nothing happened. Kabil stepped back perplexed, but the void remained open, and no demon came through.
Angus had to concentrate on breathing. His chest was tight and his ribs were crushing him with expectation. When Angus had first opened the void, Saka had wanted a warlock because he wanted a connection with someone inside the college—a spy. If Angus hadn’t been suitable, Miniti would’ve have ordered Angus’s death.
Both sides treated life as though it were nothing but a coin to spend.
It didn’t have to be that way, yet the alternative wasn’t popular either. That was perplexing.
“Something isn’t right.” Kabil frowned. “Shouldn’t he be here? Shouldn’t a guard be leaning through and checking?”
Cadmael turned his head and fixed Angus with a glare. “Go through and get your demon.”
Angus smiled. Saka was ignoring the summons. “So you can abandon me there?”
It would be a slow death. Weeks in the making unless they could find another tribe of demons to take them in. The horror of the first trek, the way the scarlips had stalked them, looking for an easy meal, the thirst and exhaustion and sunburn. It was all too fresh in his mind.
But if he stepped through, he could see Saka. Maybe. But Saka had turned away the connection… so which demon had it settled on?
A demon armed with a bow and arrows stepped through. His fur gleamed golden in the lights, and his antlers arched gracefully over his head. While clearly a soldier or hunter, he didn’t look half as intimidating as Saka.
Angus bit his lip to keep from smiling. Something had gone wrong. This was now Kabil’s demon, and the demon wasn’t a mage. Priests were supposed to have mages.
“What is… why are you here?” Cadmael spoke in his native tongue, giving up his accented Vinnish as though what was said was none of Angus’s business.
Angus’s ear burned as the magic trapped in the jade let him hear and understand every word. If Cadmael knew he had it, it would no doubt be torn from his ear.
“The void opened, and I needed to cross. I couldn’t resist any longer. It’s never happened before.” The demon glanced around the room, and his nose twitched as his confusion clearly became concern.
Cadmael rounded on Kabil. “Did you even try to summon Saka?”
“Yes.” He sounded offended. “This is unacceptable.”
Cadmael closed his eyes. “It’s not unheard of, though it is less than ideal. Was the red horned demon, Saka, not at the doorway?”
What was the doorway? The void opened near a demon. It should’ve opened near Saka regardless of where he was.
“He came back through and left,” the demon said.
Cadmael’s gaze slid to Angus, and Angus fought the urge to step back from his cold glare. There was nowhere to run to, and he was tired of running. He crossed his arms as though bored because he couldn’t understand what was going on or what was being said.
“Your demon was supposed to wait by the doorway to be summoned.” Cadmael spoke in Vinnish.
“Doorway?”
There was a moment of silence as the Mayans realized that Angus didn’t know what they were talking about and they clearly weren’t sure if they wanted to share. It was Kabil who spoke first. “We made doorways in Demonside so the void can only be opened in those places.”
“It is important that we work together. Since we can open the void, it was fair that the void only open in fixed places… for safety,” Cadmael finished.
That made sense. So if Saka wasn’t there, he knew that, and he’d fled.
“That’s not what we’re used to. A misunderstanding.” Angus shrugged.
“Summon him so we can fix that,” Cadmael said.
“He’s not at the doorway.” The hunter had just said that.
“He’ll feel the call and return. That is how it works.”
But Angus knew Saka wouldn’t answer, and they had no way of communicating. While he’d never wanted a demon or to be a warlock, suddenly the idea of not having a demon was akin to cutting off his arm. He was quite attached to Saka and had become used to depending on him whenever he had a question about magic. They were more than mage and apprentice and more than lovers. Saka had become enmeshed in his life in such a way that trying to cut him out would kill him. Without Saka, death might be nice… peaceful.
He couldn’t fight for magic and stop the ice on his own. He wasn’t even sure he could do it with help. It wasn’t even his responsibility. He was a no one, and there were institutes and warlocks and priests who knew far more than he did. They should be doing something, anything, to put things right. Instead they were putting sanctions in place and hurting ordinary people.
“I can try.” That was all he could do, so he tried. The void opened, but without Saka at the doorway, it shut just as fast. In that moment he felt Saka before he was brushed aside. The rejection stung, even though he knew it was for the best.
More of that awful thick silence followed.
Cadmael looked at the soldier demon. “I will send you back. We will sort this out.”
The demon nodded and didn’t need to be asked twice to leave. He hastily stepped through the void and back to Demonside. Angus wished he could follow to avoid whatever was going to happen next.
“You will stay here until Saka attends.”
Then he would be here when the world iced over and they all died.
“Kabil has a demon now. What does it matter?”
&
nbsp; “His demon isn’t a mage. We can sever that bond.”
“I thought that could only be broken with death.” That’s what he’d been told by the college. Was there another way?
“That is correct,” Cadmael said, his voice as smooth as the polished glass on the outside of the temple.
Angus’s mouth dropped open before he could close it. “You’re going to kill the demon?”
“I have no choice. You can blame Saka for not obeying.”
No, he wouldn’t blame Saka. “Why can’t he train to become a mage instead?”
Kabil and Cadmael glanced at each other, but it was Cadmael who spoke. “Not all are suited to be a mage. Surely you know that. Not every life can be saved. Death has worth and meaning.”
Not to the people who do the dying.
“I will show Angus some of the city so he may understand. The Vinnish treat death as something to be feared and avoided, not something to be embraced,” Kabil said.
Angus couldn’t imagine ever embracing death.
Dusk was smothering the city by the time he was allowed to leave the temple, and he was sure he was only allowed to leave because it was clear Saka wasn’t coming. Cadmael had ignored Kabil’s offer to show Angus more of the city—neither of them were in his favor—and Angus had been returned to his apartment and ignored for the last few days. Was Cadmael hoping the isolation would make him more compliant?
The air hummed with insect life as though nothing were wrong with the world, but the sky was an odd, sickly green. Angus had been watching from his balcony as the sun set. He had nothing more pressing to do with his time, and he’d yet to work out how to escape from his tower prison.
Not that anyone called it that.
The magic dampeners were featherlight on his skin, not like the ones in Vinland, and he was tempted to experiment to see what would happen if he did some magic. Would alarms go off? Would he get a visit from Cadmael?
He was in no rush to see the priest.
He ran his finger along the balcony railing. Terrance was out there somewhere, Saka was unreachable, and every breath hurt. He’d lost the people he cared most about. What was the point? What exactly was he fighting for?