Stealing Sorcery (37 page)

He took a breath, glancing around to ensure that no one was in melee range, and swept his blade through the icy barrier.

The crack of wood within was immensely satisfying.

Excellent. Just need a few more of these.

“Wait, stop!” Terras’ voice was filled with frustration as Taelien rushed toward the next dome.

“Leave him.” The reply was an unfamiliar voice, heavy as iron. He had no time to consider the source, however.

He lashed out at the next ice barrier as soon as he reached it, feeling a numbness spreading across his arm.

I can’t keep this up much longer.

Turning, he tried to consider the locations of the first domes that he had seen Lysen working on, but he was too disoriented. He hacked at the next two domes, finding them empty, before turning to find The Wandering War directly in front of him.

The cloaked figure was holding a long, black-bladed sword etched with shimmering red runes.

“Come.” The voice was the same as the one that had instructed Terras to cease her assault. “Let us begin this contest in earnest.”

Taelien knew that fighting The Wandering War had no place in this test – that even scoring a victory in battle against him would serve no purpose – and yet a deep, overwhelming urge pressed him to accept the challenge to battle.

He ignored that urge.

Taelien chuckled, spun around, and charged at the nearest dome, leaving it smashed to pieces in his wake. He managed to sunder two more, splintering one additional flag, before the ending gong finally rang.

***

The candidates lined up on their sides of the arena, awaiting judgment. As Taelien took his place in the formation, he could see the uncertain looks of his companions.

The colonel raised her voice immediately after the teams had taken their positions. “Applicants, attention.”

Taelien shifted his stance simultaneously with his platoon, taking a deep breath.

“Platoon 1 succeeded in capturing a single flag from Platoon 2 and destroying five of their flags, for an impressive cumulative score of seven points.”

Taelien’s jaw tightened.
They got six of our flags? And with no
penalties?

“Platoon 2 succeeded at capturing two flags and destroying three others, however, they also suffered two penalties for causing damage to enemy team members. Thus, their score is only five points.”

In spite of the need to remain at attention, Taelien shut his eyes.

We...lost?

“Platoon 1 is the victor. Both teams may return to their barracks for further instructions. Dismissed.”

Taelien’s eyes remained shut as he heard the other team howling at their victory. A few moments later, he felt someone tugging at his left arm.

“C’mon, Salaris.” Landen offered a weak smile. “We did just fine. Let’s head back, yeah?”

He nodded weakly, knowing that this might be his last visit to the barracks that had served as their home.

The platoon left the coliseum in silence, walking in a close formation as they began to head back to the barracks.

“Bunch of bullshit.” Velas folded her arms as they walked, and Taelien noted the nods of assent among their group. “Judges must have had it out for us.”

“I’m sorry,” Taelien barely managed to mumble.

Velas kicked a rock, sending it tumbling off the path. “You kidding? You ripped them open over there. Not your fault the judges have their heads up their asses, Sal.”

“I lost as many points as I got us.”

Velas shrugged. “We all knew what you were planning on. Personally, I think using Keldyn’s sword was brilliant. Wish we could have used the ice to break their own flags somehow, but turning the domes into water was pretty great, too. Nice work on that, Eridus.”

The water sorcerer gave a silent nod and looked away.

“Anyway,” Velas continued, “If the judges were reasonable, they would have counted those hits against the enemy team, since Keldyn was careless. And then we would have won.”

“No.”

Asphodel spoke quietly, but all heads turned toward her. It was not simply that she spoke rarely, nor the force of her personality, but rather the certainty in her voice that always seemed to draw attention with unrelenting gravity.

“The judges were fair. The plan was sound. We simply failed to execute it properly.”

They walked for the rest of the journey in silence.

Lieutenant Torrent was waiting outside the barrack as they arrived. His hands were filled with red flags, blowing softly in the wind.

Taelien’s left hand drifted upward, not to tug at his own red flag, but to cover the pounding within his chest.

This is it, then.

“Platoon 2, halt.”

The group stopped in a messy semi-formation, awaiting further instructions.

“You did pretty well back there, but you lost. We’re nearing the final stages of the test, so that means—”

Taelien didn’t hear the rest. He wasn’t listening.

He lowered his head as the paladin candidates formed a single-file line, each stepping forward to receive a red flag before filing into the barracks.

“Sal.”

“Sal.” The voice was louder this time, more insistent.

Taelien blinked, turning around. Landen pressed a blue flag into his hand.

“You’re going to need that.”

The swordsman opened his mouth to reply, but on this rare occasion, he found himself speechless.

“Cadet Salaris, step forward.”

Taelien turned to Lieutenant Torrent, weakly displaying the balled-up blue flag that had been inserted into his grasp.

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow, glancing at Landen. “Interesting. You sure you want to do that, cadet?”

Landen nodded. “Sir, if Taelien didn’t help me with the sigil test, I would not have passed. Please allow this.”

The lieutenant frowned, raising a closed hand to his jaw, and then stepping forward. He snatched the blue flag out of Taelien’s hand.

“Fine. Get inside, Applicant Salaris. You won’t have another chance. Be glad you have such loyal friends.”

Taelien took a shuddering breath and rushed inside the barracks. He didn’t bother to change out of his uniform – he just sat on his bed and shivered.

***

At dinner hour, Taelien remained behind as most of the remaining cadets filed out of the barracks. He reclined on his flat pillow, lying on top of the blankets since he had yet to bathe. He had managed to kick off his boots, but beyond that, he had little energy to force himself to move.

When the others were gone, Asphodel climbed up to the top bunk to sit beside where he was resting. Taelien turned and gave her a quizzical look.

Asphodel casually laid a hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. “You feel despair. Why?”

“I’ve just failed at the last two challenges. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“But you are, as you must be.”

I’m really not in the mood for this kind of self-assured nonsense right now.

“If destiny had a hand in this, I feel like I should probably be breaking it.”

Asphodel frowned deeply. “You already are.”

Taelien sat up, crouching to avoid brushing his head against the ceiling. “Okay, that’s sufficiently ominous to make me curious. What are you talking about?”

“You are playing another’s role, and playing the role differently than he would have.”

Taelien quirked an eyebrow. “That’s still pretty vague.”

“I am sorry.” The Delaren looked away, her crystalline hair brushing against him as she turned. “Speaking can be difficult. I am seeing – hearing – too many things.”

“What do you mean by that? You’ve never answered our questions about the whole ‘oracle’ thing.”

Asphodel’s shoulder slumped. “It is a gift, one might say, but a burden. My senses have many facets. I see now, as you do, but I also see moments – and minutes – and hours into the future. Sometimes further, if I strain myself.”

“Simultaneously?”

Asphodel nodded weakly.

“That must be…maddening. Can you block it out?”

“Only to a minimal extent. I have learned to focus, as you might pay more attention to something directly in front of you than your peripheral vision. But if I close my eyes, I see nothing at all. If I block my ears, I do not hear any timeframe. There is no method for filtering one or another completely.”

Gods. That’s – I couldn’t possibly handle that kind of burden.

The pair was silent for a time, and Asphodel turned back toward him. Her eyes were closed.

“Focusing on one sense or another can help. Do you mind?”

He shook his head, and then remembered her eyes were closed. “No.”

She smiled. “Good. You have many questions – as do I. You may ask first.”

“You said something about me taking someone else’s place. What do you mean by that?”

“When I meet someone, I often gaze into their potential future. This may be intrusive, but it is instinctive to me, and I must keep myself safe. When I attempted to do this with you, I saw someone else entirely.”

Taelien took a deep breath.

Does she mean Aendaryn, the God of Blades? So many people have mistaken me for him – or his child. Could it be true?

“How do you know it’s a different person?”

The Delaren woman tilted her head downward. “He was nothing like you. Everything and nothing alike.” After a pause, she spoke again. “He was regal, dominant, more nature than man. He had a Rethri’s eyes – verdant and deep as a forest – but he lacked a Rethri’s heart. And when I saw him – when I tried to see more – he turned his gaze to me.” She shivered. “And he smiled. It was not a smile of kindness. It was the smile of a hunter who had set his eyes upon prey. I have never dared to look into your future again.”

The description was abstract, but something about it scratched at the back of his memory. The man in her vision sounded familiar – familiar in a way that made his hand itch to reach for the sword at his side.

But that’s not Aendaryn she described. The god of blades is described as being a blue-eyed human, like I am.

“You feel it, too.” Asphodel grasped his hand, intertwining her fingers in his. There was something desperate in the contact, something pleading. Their fingers tightened around each other.

“Yes.” His eyes closed, the image of the other man manifesting in his mind. It was not something Asphodel had given him – not a spell or a shared vision – but an awakened memory.

The man – if such a word can describe a creature carved from the nightmares in the furthest recesses of his mind - had smiled at him, too.

Taelien squeezed her hand. “What is he?”

“I do not know,” Asphodel whispered. “But I know that he is watching.”

The first thing Velas realized was that she was cold. Without opening her eyes, she reached for her blanket, finding it missing. In her half-conscious haze, she barely processed the string of curses coming from somewhere to her right, or the scraping sound half a dozen yards distant. She frowned, groaning, and her eyes fluttered open.

Her surroundings were unfamiliar and unnerving.

A faint blue light illuminated her cell. She was lying atop an uneven grey stone floor, confined within a circle of glowing azure runes. Her only companions within the circle were a few cracked pieces of stone. The former Queensguard was still wearing her nightclothes, but an additional adornment graced her neck – a golden collar, similarly etched with luminescent blue runes.

Gods curse it, not more runes. I hate runes.

The cell itself was barely large enough for her to lie down. It was square in shape, with a gate of steel bars near her feet. The other three walls were the same grey stone as the floor. As she sat up, she realized that she could not see the primary source of the room’s illumination – the runes on the floor and necklace were insufficient. The lack of a clear origin point for the light was disconcerting.

“Ugh,” she moaned, rubbing at her head. She was pretty sure she hadn’t been drinking last night, but she felt like alcohol had sucker punched her brain when she wasn’t looking.

“Velas? You awake? I’d know that half-conscious moan anywhere.” The sound was coming from the opposite side of the stone wall on her right side.

“Shut up, Landen. You’re too loud, and I’m tired.” She rubbed at her temples, but the effort was mostly in vain.

“Uh, we might need to talk, given that we’re, you know, in some kind of prison.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’d gathered that, thanks.”

“Velas? Landen? That you over there?” Taelien was ‘whispering’ from somewhere beyond Velas’ bars. His idea of whispering was about twice the volume of Landen’s speaking voice, and Velas was unable to stifle a snicker. Leaning closer to the edge of her circle – she didn’t want to cross it without determining the circle’s function, if any – she could see through her bars well enough to note another set of bars about two yards beyond her own. Taelien was standing in a similar circle, shirtless, wearing a collar. It was hard to tell with the dim light, but she thought his collar might have been silver, rather than gold.

He waved at her, and she returned the gesture, and then stood up.

“Hey, Sal. I like the new look. You should try it more often.” Velas smirked, but with her headache slowly subsiding, she was beginning to process the situation and search for solutions.

“Anyone remember how we got here?” Landen asked. She thought she could hear him moving around on the opposite side of the wall.

“No. And don’t leave the circle until we figure out what it does,” she instructed, turning toward Landen.

“Circle? What circle?”

“Landen is not in a circle.” The voice was female, and it took Velas a moment to place it. She had rarely heard Asphodel speak, and when the Delaren woman had, it was rarely more than two or three words at a time. “I am, however.”

“Asphodel?” Taelien was whispering too loudly again. “Can you read the runes on the amulet or the circle?”

“No. Also, I am not wearing an amulet.”

Velas knelt back down, inspecting the runes.
That’s Kor for strength, Lys for sacrifice…can’t read that one, or that one. Kar, maybe? Protection – yeah, that seems right. Probably a pretty typical barrier circle.

The former Queensguard frowned.
Except with no visible power source. There should be dominion essence somewhere nearby, most likely within the ritual circle itself.
She looked at a pair of loose rocks dubiously, but quickly concluded that no one in their right mind would bother disguising dominion essence as random stones.

It’s probably drawing from my new apparel – there could be dominion essence in a position I can’t see, like on the inside or around the back. Okay, barrier circle. I can deal with that. There may be a more pressing problem.

Velas picked up one of the stray rocks, thinking. “So, guys. How’d we get in here?”

“That’s what I was asking,” Landen complained. “I just went to sleep and woke up here.”

“This is clearly some kind of test.” Taelien was kneeling and inspecting his own runes now. “Or another one of my weird dreams.”

“You’ve been having weird dreams?” Landen asked.

Velas smirked, flicking the rock into the ring.
Ping.
A translucent blue-white field appeared, blocking the tiny rock from escaping the circle. The deflected rock rolled across the ground, landing near her feet.
Definitely a barrier, at the least. Might have other functions.
“As intrigued as I might be about Sal’s dreams, especially if they involve the four of us half-naked in a prison, I’m pretty sure I’m real. Maybe I’m dreaming, but this doesn’t seem like my kind of dream – for the most part –”

Asphodel sighed loudly enough to cut Velas off. “We are not dreaming. I would know.”

Not sure what her logic is for that, but sure, we’ll go with that. They do call her an oracle – maybe dream sorcery is on her list.

“Well, if we’re really here, that means either our room has been pretty seriously changed or we’ve been teleported. Leaning toward the latter.” Taelien tapped at the floor near one of the runes with a single finger.

I really, really hate being teleported. Possibly more than I hate runes.

Velas rubbed at her forehead. “Our cell arrangements seem to mirror our beds. Landen is next to me, and Taelien is next to Asphodel. Asphodel, have you seen your, um, guards?”

“Teshvol and Kolask are not my guards. And no, they are not here.”

Velas frowned.
Those two were sleeping closer to my bed than Taelien and Asphodel – why are they missing? If Taelien is right and this is a test, it would be logical to include the whole platoon or segments of it that are adjacent to one another. Could they have failed out? Or perhaps they’re in another part of the dungeon?

It’s an inconsistency, much like Landen not having a circle or a collar. Maybe that’s not the real Landen. Maybe I’m dreaming – the only authority telling me that I’m not dreaming is someone that could just be another dream. But I guess that line of thought isn’t really going to be useful – I’m going to break this place and get the resh out either way.

Taelien put a hand on his collar. “I’m going to break this.”

I love it when he reminds me of me.

“Do not,” Asphodel said, just before Taelien screamed, falling to the floor and beginning to spasm uncontrollably.

Velas tensed, taking a step forward before she realized she had nearly stepped out of her circle. She barely stopped herself, gritting her teeth as she watched helplessly as Taelien twitched for several seconds before lying still.

“…Sal?” she asked, staring at his fallen body. He made no reply.

They couldn’t have killed him. It’s just a test. He’s going to be fine.

It’s not real. It can’t be real.

“These collars are triggered by the use of sorcery,” Asphodel said without a hint of emotion in her tone.

Velas clenched her fists. “Reshing useful information there, chatty. Thanks, saved us all a bunch of trouble.”

“I could not be certain until he activated it, but it seemed logical—”

Footsteps. Heavy ones, at that. Asphodel went silent as soon as the sounds began to approach. Velas focused on the sounds, identifying any individual characteristics she could. There was a slight scrape with each step, and a long pause between each, indicating that the person approaching was most likely walking slowly and wearing sabatons.

As the first creature came into view, she realized she was only mostly right.

The figure’s armor was black as void, with violent spikes protruding from the knees and elbows. The material was reflective, but with a glossy look, and Velas suspected it was some kind of stone similar to obsidian, rather than metal. Near the neck and on the gauntlets, she saw runes etched into the surface. They were glowing with red light.

All in all, the image looked like a child’s nightmare of one of the Thornguard. She might have laughed if someone had tried to describe the figure to her, but when it turned to look straight at her – and she saw red glowing spots rather than eyes – something sank in her stomach.

“The prisoners will behave.” Its voice was a deep, grating sound that made her shiver. It was only after a moment that she processed the foreign sorcery invading her body, sapping at her will. Every instinct told her to push the poison out of her veins, but she resisted, knowing that activating her “sorcery resistance” could potentially leave her in the same state as Taelien – or worse.

Mercifully, it turned away from Velas after a staring at her for several painful moments.

She found herself sitting, shivering, but her mind still worked.
He’s wearing a sword on his left hip. No other obvious weapons. Obvious keys hanging from belt on right side of hip.

Velas’ relief that the knight was looking away from her was short lived. His next target was Taelien, still unmoving on his cell’s floor.

They might kill him in there. I mean, at least in the simulation. It’s still just a test. He’s fine. But seriously, I need to save him right now.

Two problems; well, two main problems. Barrier and a door. Think.

She flicked another pebble, twisting her lip as she made an observation.

The lead knight removed the keys from his belt, unlocking Taelien’s cell door.

Velas grabbed a larger rock and began scratching something into the floor of her cell.

The runes on the black-clad knight’s gauntlet flickered, and the barrier circle around Taelien flashed into visibility for a moment – and then shattered apart. The knight reached down with his left hand, grabbed Taelien’s collar, and dragged him out of the cell.

“Hey, stop, we’ll cooperate,” Landen called out. “Just tell us what you need.” The knight paused for a moment, turning toward Landen’s cell.

“The prisoner will be silent while punishment is administered.”

The knight pulled Taelien upward from the floor with his left hand, putting his right hand on Taelien’s forehead.

“Awaken.” The runes on the knight’s gauntlet flashed and Taelien shuddered again, though he did not scream this time. The swordsman slumped forward weakly, his eyes fluttering open.

“Good. You will now be punished.”

Velas stood up, gripping her collar with her left hand.

“Yeah, that might have to wait.”

The red-eyed knight turned his gaze toward Velas as she approached the cell door.

“For the future, you might want to construct your rituals with the runes on the outside of the barrier. If they’re on the inside, someone might, you know, change how they work.”

I’m going to regret this later.

Pulse.

It was just a flicker of sorcery – the merest hint of an application of the Dominion of Motion. Enhanced a thousandfold by the repurposed ritual circle, however, it was strong enough to rip the bar she pointed at straight out of the stone and catapult it into the knight, slamming into his right arm. The knight staggered a step toward Taelien’s cell as the bar deflected off his armor, clattering down the hall. The application of force should have shattered the arm of an ordinary man, armored or not. The attack was not, unfortunately, potent enough to make the knight drop his prisoner.

It was, however, enough to activate her collar.

Intense heat flared to life around her neck, searing into her flesh. She screamed out of instinct in spite of having been prepared for the pain. It was excruciating, but she had expected it to be.

Not what I expected, but it will do.

She sensed the Dominion of Light burning her flesh, visualized the places that the collar contacted her skin, and quickly sensed the power source on the back of her neck. Her fingers burned as the found the stone and she pointed her other hand at the knight.

Expel.

A blinding ray of incandescent heat blasted out of her outstretched fingers, slamming into the knight’s chest. The knight released his grip on Taelien, turning toward Velas as golden cracks began to appear in his breastplate.

Velas continued to channel the amulet’s light, gritting her teeth in agony. Her hand and neck were no longer being burned, but the muscles in her right arm began to twitch as she expended her own essence to redirect the necklace’s power.

The knight reached down with a gauntleted hand, briefly blocking the beam as he marched toward her cell. Velas shifted the light upward, hoping to blind him, but when the beam hit the runes near his neck she felt an instant of connection with a greater force – and then the beam faltered and died.

Velas fell to her knees, shivering, her right arm numb.
Shit, shit. I should have realized that those runes on his neck are another amulet like mine. Triggered some kind of feedback when I hit it.

The knight unceremoniously tore the door off her cell.