Breaking Ties (14 page)

Chapter Fifteen

James

December 20, 5:10 am

Nothing happens.

“I swear I said that right.” I exhale hard and glance at Ras. “You couldn't have me make something simpler than a table?”

“It is magic. There is no simple, there is no complex, there is only the Name.”

I extend my hand, concentrate, focus my breathing, work through the phonetics in my mind several times, my tongue hesitant to shape the syllables.

“You appear as if you are having a difficult movement. You are placing too much…you are…” He taps his foot, irritated, before dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. “
Khrazet.
”

I blink at him. “Dare I ask what that means?”

“It is difficult to articulate. It is like a wall between you and the spell, and you are expending your effort to scale the wall to reach the spell on the other side, but the wall is only of your own construction, yet you build it subconsciously because you feel it is necessary, even though it is not. You hobble yourself out of deluded necessity, and hobble yourself further once you are aware of it, and on and on in a vicious cycle. Khrazet.”

“So that's not going to be a pet name for me, I take it.”

He shakes his head again. “Indeed not. What I would call you would not be appropriate to speak in polite company.”

“And what, exactly, would that be?”

“I won't insult you so directly by speaking it in Sigil, but you would be considered… Both the Recluse and Frozen River were your lovers, yes? You would be thought an apprentice who only sought a teacher because of romantic inclinations, or simple sexual need, because of their great power and influence. I do not know if there is a current term for it, but—”

“You think I'm a
groupie
?”

“Hence why I made it clear that I have no interest in men. Talents such as yours are often weaker, seeking a stronger talent to nurture them, to raise them just above mediocrity. It is my suspicion that the world answers your commands simply because there are no other Ra'keth to speak to it—”

“
Table.
”

It appears in a sudden crackle of electricity, several bolts of lightning flashing in a wireframe of four legs and a flat surface. When the sparks fade, the frame has solidified into matter, a simple wooden table that could seat four is in the middle of the room, appearing to be oak, but it's not from any of my memories. It's a table, the kind I was envisioning when trying to cast the spell before.

“I did it.” When I look at Ras, he's smiling and nods once in approval. “Groupie, my ass. How's
that
for mediocre, huh?”

His smile gets a little wider, and then it all makes sense.

“You son of a bitch, you provoked me into doing that, didn't you?”

“As I said, you must find your own way. I'm merely giving you the pokes and prods necessary. Emotion is a powerful force, especially for us, and must be tempered, as reality is no longer pleased with bowing to the wills of irate sorcerers. In the beginning, though, it is a suitable means of accomplishing workings, to build one's confidence.” He motions to the table. “Remember this moment, James. Shoddy as it might be, that is an object you
willed
into existence.”

“Shoddy?” I fold my arms.

He gives it a flick with his fingers, and it topples almost immediately since I apparently forgot to envision screws, bolts or braces to hold everything in place. “Consider it a success to build on.” He gestures to the space next to the heap of wood. “
Table.
”

An elegant, hand-carved mahogany table appears with clawfoot legs, as well as a tablecloth of golden silk and silver platters at every one of the place settings. Every one of the six place settings.

“Showoff.” I give his table a nudge. Sturdy as stone. “Okay, I heard you. That was the exact same word I said.”

“Yes, it was.”

“So it is the pronunciation or…”

“It is what is visualized. That is why memory is such a powerful tool for us. Though it can be a crutch, as it limits you to your experience.”

I point at the adorned table. “This is a memory?”

“No, I simply possess an active imagination. Your attempt was rudimentary, as you were more focused on the spell than the effect. It is something you will have to work on, but common to khrazet.”

I glance at him. “Does this mean I can leave now?”

He shows me an open palm.

I start toward the space in the wall where a door had been before and hold my hand toward it. The word dances through my mind, the syllables disjointed, wisps of memory, snatches of song.

And nothing.

Every time I start, my voice catches in my throat, I stumble into a syllable and know I need to start over. And now I'm imagining a damned wall in my way, a mental barrier to match the physical one. It was a reaction before, I was so pissed off I didn't have time to think. I thought it and acted. I try to think of enraging memories, things that Heath did to me, Cale dying in my arms, but then I think about thinking and thinking too much and—

“God
damn it
.” I sulk a few seconds. “Why can't I do it?”

His hand is on my shoulder. “It is a slow process. You are likely convincing yourself at the moment that it was a one-time occurrence? Pure happenstance or fortune that you succeeded?”

Well, I am
now
.

“How do I push through that?”

He shows me an open palm.

“You don't know? I thought you were a teacher.”

“I am not you. How
I
overcame such obstacles would likely not be as effective for you.”

“How'd you do it?”

“Kernigon.” He smiles. “That is one of the lesser names for my draconic form. Obvious, his true name should remain my own secret.”

“So you work magic better as a dragon?”

“No, after spending time as him, some of him bled into me. A dragon does not hesitate in matters, he does not let his perceptions be clouded, he acts. He provides a…seductive clarity. I'm sure you've felt it as well when you show your favor to the Snow Clan.”

I can only nod.

“But I would not suggest it as a method for you. It can be easy to lose yourself in them, as I did with Kernigon. As I said, the clarity is difficult to resist, you might keep hold of yourself for years, as I did, and then falter completely while taking flight on a whim. Kernigon was not even the Ra'saar then, simply a golden drake who loved nothing more than the wind under his wings. He was a fast learner, though, of dragon society.”

I take some time to process that. “He's you though, isn't he? Just like…” I catch myself before saying his name. “My dragon is me. Or at least a creation of my mind. It's not like I created a dragon from nothing and possessed him. He's something that…I don't know what, maybe a split personality. But it doesn't mean he's not me, right?”

He shows an open palm. “I have been the Ra'saar for centuries, and I could not tell you one way or the other. Perhaps he is an extension of my wish for dragons to be treated with greater dignity, perhaps he is a kindred soul I created. He simply is, and I simply am.”

“How can you have two souls in the same body? Wouldn't that be, y'know, against the rules?”

He tilts his head at me. “We are sorcerers, James. Rules are for humans.”

“But
we're
human.”

He smiles. “Yes, but also we're more. For all our power, we are human, but we still have power. We are…”

“Better?” It comes across as dubiously as I intended.

“Yes. By fate or circumstance, yes. And that grants us reason to use our power properly.”

“With great power comes great responsibility?” Spence isn't here to say it, so I might as well.

“Yes! Exactly. Rather succinct, I must say.”

“I don't know how I feel about the idea of being
better
than someone, okay? It…” I stop myself. I don't want to say out loud that it reminds me of Heath. Being referred to as a worthless mistake doesn't do much for the ego, and I don't even want to find myself on the other side of that. “It just doesn't seem right.”

Ras nods curtly. “You are early in your reign. I'll ask you in a century if you still share the same egalitarian attitudes.”

It's his casual tone that puts me off-balance. A century. Just like that. I keep overlooking that aspect of being a sorcerer. Cale was at least in his nineties, but appeared in his early thirties. Ras seems a bit older, but certainly not several centuries old. Hades had told me once that I would live until I was killed, my death only coming from a murder. As a result, I've come back from some injuries that should've killed me, like falling through a skylight.

“I've never really thought about living that long.”

His face grows somber. “The first century is always the hardest. Lovers, family, friends, you outlive them all. Davinicus will likely survive along with you, another reason I forged friendships with dragons as opposed to people. Perhaps this is why you sought companionship with one of the dreamblooded as opposed to a human?”

“No, we just clicked, and it's been going well and…”

“And he knows your nature but doesn't think you mad. Should he grow to love you, he will not slip into madness, and while he won't be as long-lived as you may be, the Fae will live a good many years longer than a human. Again,” he smirks. “A better choice than a trickster.”

“You sound like you're speaking from personal experience there.”

He sits in one of the conjured chairs. “That is a story I believe you have not earned yet. I
am
speaking from experience, that is all I will give you. Upon realizing my error, I made a grave mistake that I am yet to outlive.”

“Shouldn't I learn from your mistakes, then? Isn't that one of the advantages of having a teacher?”

“Telling you the tale would only grant you false confidence that you would not fall to temptation. I will put it simply: a trickster wishes nothing more than for you to look a fool. They may claim grand altruistic motivations, but they speak falsehoods. You are a trophy to them, nothing more. Friendship, romance, animosity, hatred—all of these are tools they exploit to gain sway over your actions. This is true
especially
with Coyotes.”

Considering I'm speaking to the King of the Dragons, and that he prefers them to be treated with dignity, I can understand his issues with a clan of tricksters seeing his people as nothing more than a collection of saps with entirely too much money. I know that Spence is going to try to trick me. Hell, the day he found out I was a sorcerer he told me as much.

But he's also someone who's stepped up for me again and again, shown generosity to a dragon (in exchange for crash space and a ten-dollar lunch allowance) and even helped to save my life, and possibly the world. Maybe Spence isn't the average Coyote and—

“They are
all
the same, James.” When I look at Ras, his jaw is set. “You were thinking the trickster you know is one of the exceptions, yes? We
all
have believed that, every one of us who has been humiliated by their ilk.”

I shrug. “Maybe. But I just met you. The only experience I have with other sorcerers has generally been them trying to kill or intimidate me. And dragons have only seen me as a means to an end as well, remember? I appreciate that you're giving me a lesson in magic, but—”

“You think this is a lesson?” He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “No, James, this is simply a conversation. An introduction. This is not a lesson.” He gestures to the wall, murmuring in Sigil, and a portal opens to the hall outside.

“You're letting me go?” I stroll through the doorway, which doesn't shut in my face as I half expect. Instead, it opens to a ballroom reminiscent of my grandparents' manor in England, with high ceilings, big bay windows and an expansive parquet floor. The walls are papered with a dull and simple design, no interruptions by paintings or objets d'art, though there are fresher sections of wallpaper that outline where paintings had been at some point. No furniture, no rugs. It's completely vacant, save myself and someone at the far end, about twenty yards away, a woman in jeans and a punker T-shirt and Atlantic-blue hair.

Ras enters shortly afterward and gestures to the woman. “I believe you remember Codacintha.”

“The bump on my head does, yes.”

He calls across the room. “Codacintha?”

She snaps to attention. “Yes, my liege?”

He tics his head at me, still looking at her. “You may kill him now.”

“
What?
” I back toward the wall, where the door has conveniently vanished. “What the hell is this?”

Ras glances at me with a slight smile as Coda closes her eyes, long sharp claws extending from her fingers, scaly blue ridges pushing out from her forehead as she advances toward me.

“I would think it obvious, James.” He takes a few steps back, murmuring in Sigil to create a simple wooden chair to sit upon. “This is your lesson.”

I gulp as she grows closer. “So, she's not going to actually kill me, right?”

“She'll
try
, whether she succeeds is entirely up to you. You wished to learn. I see no better way. I would prefer you incapacitated her, rather than kill her. She has much potential.”

“What fucking purpose does this serve?”

“A simple but needed one, James.”

Coda lunges at me.

“Today, James. I meet the Lightning Rod.”

Chapter Sixteen

James

December 20, 5:25 am

I jump out of the way just as two sets of claws plant themselves in the wall I'd been standing in front of. She has little trouble pulling them out as I break for the opposite end of the room, my lungs reminding me that, again, smoking cigarettes was a bad idea. Before I can reach the other side she's caught up with me, and I intentionally fall on my face to miss a swipe at my back.

To hell with dignity, I want to live.

As a result she overshoots a few steps, long enough to extend my hand and shout in a panic, “
Lightning.
”

The bolt flies from my fingers and spreads in a fractal pattern, one of the forks colliding and crackling over her body, quickly being absorbed while the rest leave scorch marks on the walls, floor and ceiling.

Right. Blue Dragons breathe lightning. After having played Dungeons & Dragons for as long as I have, I probably should've remembered that. Also, I should've remembered that shooting lightning bolts from one's hands will tire a sorcerer out right quick.

She snorts sparks as she turns to face me, snickering to herself, advancing with deliberate steps, her claws clicking together in anticipation.

“I truly hope you have more than that in your arsenal, James.” Ras is seated, his tone unimpressed, almost bored.

I can hear Cale's voice in my head, memories of our first meeting.

“
Ice!
” A frozen wall erects between the dragon and me, leaving me exhausted, barely able to rise to a kneeling position. The dragon punches it hard, the barrier spiderwebbing from the impact, but it holds against her strikes. It won't keep her off forever. I stumble forward, pressing my hand against the wall, the cold shooting up my arm. I envision the wall, imagine it freezing, expanding, thickening. “
Ice.
”

Nothing happens.

“Children speak in simple words, James.”

A huge crack appears in the wall, the sound echoing through the room.

“You are a sorcerer.”

“I don't
know
those words!”

He gets up from the chair and strides toward me. “You named the language, it is
yours
.”

“I can't just speak it at will, I'm not a Bard.” At a time like this, I'm jealous of Spencer, who can speak Sigil at will as long as he's heard it recently. I keep pushing against the wall, numbness invading my fingers. “
Ice!
”

Nothing.

I look quickly to Ras. “Help me!”

“That is not the purpose of this lesson.”

Another large crack.

“Please!”

“There is only one person in this room capable of helping you. Only one who can give you the words you need. It is not me.”

I can feel tears streaming down my face as the wall shatters, my arms flying up to shield my face from the shards. She bursts through with a corona of ice crystals about her, glittering in the light, her claws pointed at my throat.

I shut my eyes tight, terror making my muscles rigid, the soft tissue of my neck scant milliseconds from being torn asunder, a flurry of thoughts rushing through my brain. “
Go away.
”

The impact doesn't come.

I wait a second. Then two. Three. Ten.

Nothing.

My eyes open slowly, expecting to find her talons grazing my skin. Only the fallen ice is present in a fast-melting pile. I sob, audibly, stumbling toward the wall.

After what feels like an eternity, I look around. Ras is now seated in his chair. The ice is nothing more than a puddle. Coda is gone.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to push down the nausea. “What happened?”

“You took a step.”

“What happened to Coda?”

At that, he gets up and strides across the room until he's standing over me. “I would ask the same. You sent her away. One moment she was here, the next she was gone. I'm curious as to where you sent her.”

“I…I didn't.” I shake my head quickly. “I didn't do anything, I just wanted her to go away.” I try working back through the newly formed memories. “I panicked. She was going to kill me.” I glance at him. “Wasn't she?”

He nods. “I had every confidence you could defend yourself, though.” He motions to the puddle. “Evocation and conjuration are clearly not your strong suits. We'll have to alter your lesson plan from here on out.”

I tremble, walk away from him. “Where'd she go, then? What'd I do?”

“You have pierced space before, yes?” At my look of confusion, he searches for words. “Moved things from one place to another?”

I stop to think, remember. “Uh…I took someone from Osaka and brought them here once. It was really hard, though. I thought that was just a form of scrying. And I guess I've jumped over to Tartarus a few times, but that's pretty easy.”

At that, he laughs. “
Easy?
You have walked between worlds. Even
I
cannot do that without effort and preparation. All sorcerers are not the same, James. Conjuration has always been my specialty. I would suppose that this is your own strength, though it obviously must be honed.”

“By trying to
kill
me?” I feel my strength returning. Enough at least to brace my back against the wall. “I'm surprised doing that didn't burn out my soul.”

“You needed adequate inspiration. However, I would like to know where one of my subjects has been sent to.” He waits patiently. “Please.”

“Uh…” I search frantically through my mind, trying to remember, the emotion of the moment overshadowing everything. “Not to Tartarus, I know that.” I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to go home, to be safe. “I sent her somewhere where I thought I'd be safe.”

That could be one of three places. The diner, Ozzie's place or the room that's now my father's private office up in the Mews. I pray it's the first. Dragons have done enough damage to Ozzie's recently, and I doubt my father would appreciate a punker girl appearing out of nowhere in his office. Dave would be able to handle a dragon, at least, and Dave would know I'm okay. Knowing my luck, though, she'd probably appear ten feet off the floor and have her fall broken by his latest stack of AC/DC albums.

Still, how did I
do
that?

I'm plenty pissed that Ras decided murder is part of the curriculum, but it's hard to argue with the results, even if I plan on arguing.

I didn't have to think, the words came out in perfect Sigil, soaked in emotion and will and
power
. I didn't even have to use her Name, I just sent her away like an overcooked burger, to be dealt with by someone else.

“It can be disorienting, the first time you surpass khrazet. We always feel there is some trick to it, and for some, there is. It is a rare sorcerer, or a very old one, who requires nothing to bolster his will.” He gestures, murmuring again in Sigil, and a plush, overstuffed chair appears beside me, which he helps me into. “I am still curious where my subject has gone. If you will excuse me a moment.” He backs away, giving me plenty of space before I feel a surge of power in the air, a bright light flashing as he takes the Ra'saar's form, a Golden Dragon now in his place. The beast closes its eyes a few seconds, and it takes a little while to figure out what he's doing.

Jutte told me once that all dragons are in constant communication, possibly through telepathy, that they possess seers and an unbeatable information network when it comes to the Keth themselves. I thought it only applied to actual dragons, though, considering that when I've been, ugh, Slartibartfast, I haven't received any mental phone calls from other dragons. Unless of course I've just been broadcasting everything I've been thinking, in which case I might end up having a rather awkward conversation with Parivian the Algid later on, seeing as Slarty has a bit of a crush on him.

A moment later, Ras reappears in a flash of light. “She is safe, though her presence has surprised and irritated the Impecunious. She conveyed that she was there at the request of the Ra'keth.”

Well, that's a relief, at least.

“So I'm good at teleportation?”

He shows an open palm.

“What happens now? Going to find a new way to kill me?”

He shakes his head and doors appear at the far end of the room. Shortly afterward, he gestures, murmuring a long table into existence, complete with multiple chairs. Men and women with vibrantly colored hair enter, some carrying platters. “It has been an eventful day. For both of us. I believe we have earned a repast.”

“Who are those people?”

“The council, of course.” He motions to a pair of grand-looking near-thrones at the head of the table. “Shall we?”