“I remember it so clearly. Thomas punched me in the stomach and all the wind went out of me. I fell back against the wall and he hit me a second time. I’d never been in so much pain. He drew his hand back to hit me a third time and I threw my hands up to try and protect myself.”
He swallowed convulsively and looked away. Tiadaria put her fingers under his chin and determinedly ignoring the link-shock, turned his face to hers. Tears were slipping from the corners of his eyes.
“Wynn,” she said gently. “What happened?”
“I incinerated them,” he snapped at her. “I don’t remember calling on the sphere, I don’t remember saying any words, or making any gestures, or any part of any ritual, rite, or spell. All the same, I incinerated them. They screamed and people came running. They tried to help, but it was pointless. They were gone in moments.
“It was an accident,” Wynn continued, his voice steadying. “Everyone said so. Rationally, I know that’s true. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. But there was a part of me, a small part, that was glad that it did. Everyone left me alone after that. It was difficult for Mother and Father. They started fighting a lot. Then one evening Master Faxon came by the house and asked me to be his apprentice.
“I know he moved me here to get me out of Blackbeach. It was easier for everyone that way, and I got to come here and do what I’m good at. Somewhere safe, where there won’t be any more accidents.”
“Wynn,” Tia said slowly. “You can’t live your life being afraid of what might happen. Surely you’ve had training?”
He nodded. “I was trained and given the quintessential Trials just like any other mage. Master Faxon said that I was one of the biggest raw talents he’d ever seen.”
This last statement he added without hint of ego or pride. It was just another fact, another piece of information to be categorized and relayed. Tiadaria shook her head. A mage that Faxon said was one of the most powerful he’d seen and the silly boy wouldn’t even go outside the city.
“If I need your help, I need to know I can count on you, Wynn. Especially if Faxon doesn’t arrive before we find something we can act on. I don’t think I can do this alone.”
“I can’t,” he said with mournful eyes. “Inside the city it’s safe, I’m safe. I can help you from here, but that’s as much as I can offer.”
He got to his feet, stretching in much the same way Tiadaria had when she rose. “It's late, Lady Tiadaria…or at least, I suspect it’s late. Let’s both get some sleep?”
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped past her, leaving her to watch him ascend the stairs to the upper reliquary. She was irritated with him, both for his stubborn insistence on not leaving Ethergate, and because he had forgotten to rub her shoulders.
Chapter Six
By the time Zarfensis had left the Warrens, his entourage had grown from five to fifteen. Though Xenir was reluctant to remain behind, he knew that these were critical times for solidifying their vision for the Chosen. If they were going to rule and return the Xarundi to power, then they had to make sacrifices. The Warleader contented himself with hand-picking the warriors who would accompany his oldest friend on their mission. This had, naturally, resulted in a marked increase in force strength.
Now that they stood outside the city, Zarfensis was privately happy to have the extra bodies. The walls, bathed in flickering shadows cast by the eldritch fire that danced in the large braziers, seemed almost insurmountably high. The portcullis was closed for the night, a foreboding thing of steel rods as thick as a man’s thigh. There was a rustle in the bushes nearby and the last of the scouts he had sent out loped into view.
“Your Holiness, the city is secure. Every entrance is well fortified and guarded. We were unable to find a weakness.”
Zarfensis dismissed the report with a nod and turned his attention back to the city. He was unfamiliar with the history of the Hallowed Vale. It probably would have served him well to consult the archives before setting out on this mission, but time, he felt, was of the essence. If the girl were here, and indeed had knowledge of the relic, then it would do well for them to end her here and now before she could cause any more trouble. How many Xarundi relics were lost when the vermin had driven them from this place?
The High Priest went rigid and the warriors were instantly on alert. They circled him, claws unsheathed, their ears and eyes vigilant for what had alarmed their leader.
“What is it, Your Holiness?” Chrin was the nominal leader of the warriors. He was an older Xarundi, graying with age but still well-muscled. His senses were as keen as those with half his years and the others naturally looked to the experienced fighter for their orders.
“A hunch, Chrin.” Zarfensis pointed to the city. “Xenir says that this was once a city of the Chosen. The vermin took it from us when they drove us out of the human lands. What’s the first thing we do when we settle somewhere? Whether it's a new cavern in the Warrens, or the farther outposts, what is the very first thing we do?”
“Secure an escape,” Chrin answered, his jaw dropping in a feral smile. “You believe there is a bolt-hole.”
“Would our ancestors really have been so different? If the idea is so well ingrained in us as to be second nature today, certainly that imperative comes from our proud lineage.”
“Let us hope so, High Priest.” Chrin turned to the other warriors, ordering them out in pairs to scout the untamed wilderness outside the city walls. He alone remained with Zarfensis, watching over the city.
Long moments of silence passed as they waited for the scouts to return. Minutes quickly lengthened and became hours. Zarfensis grew restless, but Chrin remained in his alert crouch, only the occasional flick of an ear set him apart from a statue. Even the High Priest had to admire his discipline.
There was a scuffle nearby and Chrin whirled toward the sound. Pinpricks of blue fire betrayed their brethren as they made their way through the undergrowth. One by one the teams returned, reporting their failure and accepting the consequences of their shortcoming. Zarfensis assured them that if there was a failure to be had here, it would not be on them. They were following the orders of their Warleader and assisting the High Priest.
The second to last pair returned with news, both the news that Zarfensis so eagerly wanted to hear and news that was far less welcome.
“Report,” Chrin growled.
The adolescent Xarundi was awash with the smell of fear and Zarfensis wrinkled his nose. To his credit, the youth quickly regained his composure and presented his report.
“We found what we thought might be the bolt-hole. It was near the south-west corner of the city, almost out of sight of the city walls. It was covered with rocks and loose earth, but it smelled different. It smelled older.”
“We were clearing the debris to see if we could find an entrance to a tunnel when a patrol from the city saw us. We expected the vermin to run, but they advanced on us. We turned and ran, not from cowardice,” the youngster paused, as if wanting reassurance that his elders understood his meaning. Zarfensis nodded and the scout continued. “We wanted to draw them away, so that if we were right, they’d be none the wiser.”
“Did your plan succeed?” Zarfensis was now nearly as tense as Chrin. If the vermin discovered the hole, and it was an entrance into the city, they would waste no time in securing it, he was sure.
“Oh, yes, Your Holiness. They gave chase almost immediately, which is the problem. As we were drawing them into the woods, we inadvertently fled past our brothers.” The scout looked pained. “We led the vermin right to them! Our brothers didn’t have time to react. The vermin subdued them and took them to the city. We escaped and came directly back to report.”