A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (54 page)

“But the princess! This guy corrupted her mind! He deserves
it!”

“What he deserves is due process.” He hauled Eric to his
feet marched him outside. “Again, I must apologize. However, you more than
anyone else should know how much we adore our princess. I myself would like to
castrate you.” Eric gulped. “Fortunately for both of us, that is against the
code of ethics and so I will restrain myself.”

Forming a circle, the soldiers pushed him across Cutlass
Bridge and towards Royal Town. The curtain wall guard glared at him. Everyone
in Royal Town did.
News spreads fast I guess . . .
The guards at the
castle entrance looked mad enough to kill him.

A long and twisting stairway separated the castle's ground
floor from its dungeon. The tunnels were lit only by light stones. Eric could
see nothing but soldiers as they pushed him ever downwards. The cold air bit
his lungs. In minutes, his shackles felt like knives and stabbed him when he
shivered. Gloom and depression flanked him as completely as the soldiers.

At the entrance to the dungeon, the image of a human held
over a pit of fire was engraved on the door. Flames decorated the cell room in
torch light and horrific reliefs. Runes were carved into every surface:
anti-magic runes, surveillance runes, restraint runes, sealing runes and more
he didn't recognize. Kasile was already in one when Eric was shoved in his. The
tether on his ankles snapped shut and anchored to the middle of the cell.

“Your trial will begin tomorrow,” the Leader said. “Try to
get a good night's sleep.”

The soldiers left in single file. The door closed and
locked. His rage erupted.

“You just
had
to hurry, didn't you!? You promised
you'd wait for me! You
promised!
But that's what politicians do, isn't
it? Empty promises!”

“You don't know what you're talking about . . .” Kasile said
softly.

“What was that!?” Eric shouted again and pulled on his
restraints. “I can't hear you over the
rattle of my chains!
”

Kasile rolled to face him. “I said, 'you don't know what
you're talking about'! You have no i—”

“Oh poor princess! Poor misunderstood princess!”

“Stop it!”

“Poor
paranoid
princess!”

“Now you're gonna get it!” Kasile rolled into a ball, tucked
her feet underneath her, lunged, and fell flat on her face. For which Eric
jeered her and for which she glared murderously. “Do you have any idea what
growing up was like for me!?” Eric opened his mouth. “Shut it! I'm talking!

“For as long as I can remember, I knew of the Royal Trial. I
was to be Ataidar leader and
savior!
Do you have
any
idea what
that's like? Knowing that at any time a mysterious disaster would strike and
you
were the one expected to fix it!?”

“Then why did you need
me
, a novice mercenary, to
teach you magecraft!?”

“Because the better ones were turned away. My father thought
mercenary magic was beneath my
royal
dignity. Why do you think I
lied
on CV and told everyone my instructor was from the royal guard!? Why do you
think I had to
sneak out
for lessons with Laharg!?”

“You still should have waited for me.”

“Just for the sake of argument, let's say that I
did
call for your help? What then? You would have been captured just as I was! You
would only have made me look more suspicious!”

“You don't know that! I would have thought of something!”

“Like what?!”

“Like . . .like . . .a . . .”

“Ohh! Did you figure that out
all
by yourself?”

Eric growled and fumbled for a comeback. After failing, he
simply rolled away from her; the wall was a better view anyway. He could feel
the self-satisfaction radiating off her. It made him want to scream, so he did.
He was shackled in a dungeon, accused of sedition, and awaiting trial. What
dignity did he have left to lose?

“What's your problem?”

 “I didn't want this! I didn't want to be a mercenary or
your puppet! I just wanted to get by! Instead, I'm about to be tortured!” He
rolled on his back and shouted at the ceiling. “Tasio! Get down here! Send me
back to Threa! I don't want your help anymore!”

“You're
abandoning
me?!”

“Yes,
Your Highness
, I am. Ever since you hired me
for the Joust, it's been one disaster after another! My best friend died, my
mentor almost did, I crossed a desert
on foot
, I slipped in knee-deep
sewage, the entire city hates me, and now
THIS!
”

Eric shook his chains. Kasile was silent. He was about to
declare victory when she spoke up.

“I didn't hire you.”

Silence.
I was sure it . . .
He thought she hired
them as some political stunt.
It doesn't matter anymore . . .
All he
cared about now was getting out of this cell and back home; back to Threa;
where he was jobless and soon homeless. As pitiful as it was, it was better
than being in a dungeon. He called out again and realization hit like an atomic
bomb.

He tricked me!
Tasio was a trickster and this was his
trick. He was never going to help Eric; that's why he had been missing this
whole time! He had been watching Eric's strife as twisted entertainment.
This
must be his favorite part . . . when the puppet realizes he has strings.

“You should have waited! At least to tell me your plan! I
could've told you how
stupid
it was!”

“It made sense and you know it!” Kasile retorted. “I
had
to move quickly or that ambassador would have made himself into a viceroy and
Ataidar a colony nation!”

“
Parrrraaaannooiiiiddddd
.”

“Well, mercenary, let me make this relevant to you: your
guild is history. Now that I think about it, Dragon's
Cult
is more
accurate. They knew I couldn't resist mending a broken bird . . . I can't believe
I broke up with Siron for a honey trap . . .” She trailed off, muttering dark
things.

Once again, silence reigned in the dungeon.

Horrible thoughts festered in Eric's mind: led by a
charismatic leader, their own ideology, living near the main building, whole
families were part of it. Basilard never did tell him how to promote.
Maybe
swallow enough brainwashing.

The darkness in his cell was surpassed only by the growing
darkness in his heart. All his memories of the guild were twisted and warped.
Every smile hid a scowl, every kind gesture was a deception, all the talk of
family and unity was a lie. His picture of the Dragon's Lair, so noble and
inspiring, was remade into something ugly and disgusting. Eric cried. All his
anger was gone, spent, and in its place was a void.

Might as well make the most of the situation.

What could possibly be good about this situation?

Why are you asking me?
Dengel asked in return.

Didn't you just—

He heard voices. He saw movements. A shadow darker than the
gloom of the cell loomed above him. Stirrings in his heart reached out.
Rest
. . . Dark-Half-Of-The-Chosen . . .a new land awaits . . .

Go away! I refuse to die! . . . Again!
Dengel
shouted.

What can I do? What can you or anyone else do?
The
shadow loomed larger.
Neither of us can use magic. For all your power, a
single rune stops you cold.
The shadow loomed larger still.

Ever since he learned to control his mana, he felt it
coursing through him. It gave him confidence. It was a power he could pull from
within himself, but now it was gone.
There's no point in struggling . . .
Inky
black trailed from the shadow to his heart.
I was a failure before and I'm a
failure now. I'm so pathetic even the soul of a legendary mage can't redeem me.
A voice cackled with glee.

The lock clicked and the knob turned.
Is it tomorrow
already?

The door swung open and light stones illuminated the
cellblock, but the mundane light failed to dispel the looming shadow. A boy in
sleek body armor moved silently towards the prisoners. A longsword and heater
shield were strapped to his back, but it was the silver hair that caught Eric's
attention. Even in Tariatla, silver hair was rare.

Kasile perked up at the sight of him. “Siron?”

The boy knelt before her and said, “Yes, Your Highness, it
is I.”

“Don't call me that . . . the king must have disowned me by
now.”

“I hope to relieve you of your sorrow, Your Highness, but to
do so I must speak with the mercenary.” He stood and turned to the room second
inmate. The shadow made him double take but it raised a tendril to its mouth in
a hushing gesture.

 “M-Mercenary Watley, one week ago I asked how you found Her
Highness's captors and you gave me a cryptic answer. Do you have anything to
tell me now?”

Eric broke his promise and told Siron everything: his
tenant, the Kyraan healer's offer and how he and Dengel found Kasile. Siron
waited politely and when Eric was finished, he asked serious questions for
clarification. Then he paused.

“That is a fascinating story, Mercenary Watley and I will
believe you if you have proof.”

Dengel, how do I prove that you're in me?

Yes, that is the question. Any knowledge I could give
you, that he would know, you could have found yourself. However, I do know of
one guaranteed way.

What?

 You must give me full control.

NO! That is the one thing she told me NEVER
to do!

Why should you care about losing your body? You are about
to lose your life.

Touché . . . I, Eric Watley, give you full control over
my body.

The bottom of his mind dropped out from beneath him and he
fell from the control room to the basement.
If I'm falling in my mind, why
does crashing hurt so much . . .?
A great force rushed from below him and
soared above his metaphorical head. He tried to move his hands, legs, or head.
So
this is what it's like to be paralyzed . . .

“
Allow me to introduce myself,” Eric's mouth said. “I
am the Greater Mage who sacked nations. I am the Sage who codified the art of
Magecraft. I am the Scholar to whom all others are students. I am Dengel Tymh.
If you doubt my words, then look into my eyes.”

Siron inhaled sharply. His pupils dilated, his body tensed,
and he stared at Eric unblinkingly. Just as suddenly, he thawed and fell to
both knees, shaking violently.

What did you do
to him!?

I gave him the proof he wanted: the bulk of my spiritual
power. It is much greater than yours or any normal human's, for that matter.

“T-truly y-you are, t-the legend-d-ary m-mage,” Siron said.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. After several rounds, his shaking
stopped and he stood up. “There are only a handful of people in all of Tariatla
who possess such vast spiritual might.”

“I traveled with all them,” said Dengel with pride.

“Indeed. Greater Mage Tymh, in times less urgent and
violent, I would like to speak with you at length. You could solve a number of
academic debates.”

“I would love to. Now explain the situation.”

“Of course, sir,” Siron turned once more to Kasile and
knelt. “Your Highness is a better detective than the ambassador from Ceiha gave
you credit for.”

“But I was wrong.”

“Not necessarily. There
is
a plot to take over
Ataidar, but Ceiha is not the mastermind. The ambassador is pawn for the real
one.”

Hope returned to Kasile's eyes. “You mean . . . the
ambassador was bait?”

“Yes, Your Highness. The true mastermind knew you would
pounce on a perceived threat to Ataidar because Your Highness is so dedicated
to this country.”

Fire rekindled, her eyes narrowed. “Who is this mastermind?

“They . . .they are . . .” Siron paused. “The real conductor
of this deceit is . . .” Siron paused again. He gulped. “ . . . my father; Duke
Selen of House Esrah.”

 Kasile closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. “ . . .Of
course . . .
of course
. . .He was leading me all this time . . .” Her
fists clenched and she jerked in her chains. “He played me like a violin!”

“I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness; I will beg a
thousand times though it will never be enough. Neither of us deserves it.”

“Your father doesn't!” Kasile spat. “But you have done
nothing that needs forgiving.”

Will someone tell me what's going on!?
Eric asked.
Oh
yeah . . .Uh Dengel? Could you ask them?
The undead mage complied, but not
before telling Eric that he'd already figured it out.

“Duke Esrah was invaluable to the investigation of my
kidnapping,” Kasile said, “When I was looking into the Joust, he gave me the
wire cutters. He helped me track the movements of guards and locate the meaning
of that obscure rune on my father.”

“The king is not controlled by magic,” Siron said. “That
'rune' is a scribble of invisible ink. However, His Majesty has invested a vast
degree of confidence in my father. It was he that suggested Your Highness be
barred from combat training because it was 'beneath your royal dignity' and
from magecraft because when you receive royal magic it would be obsolete and
thus a waste.”

He stood up and turned to Dengel. The shadow was still there
but this time he ignored it. “Mercenary Watley, Greater Mage Tymh, I thank you
both for what you have told me. Now I may act with a clear conscience.”

He withdrew a pair of keys and freed Kasile. She thanked him
politely and when she stood, her head was held high and her shoulders were
back. The sight gladdened Eric. He was still mad at her—very mad—but it was
inspiring nonetheless. Siron released Dengel next and the Greater Mage rubbed
his neck. Mana resuming its flow was as painful as regaining blood circulation
but he welcomed it. Without a word or gesture, he summoned a blazing fire to
his hand.