My panic rose with every step taken towards the entrance to the Boneyards, until it filled my throat and started choking me. I dug my heels in and tried to pull back but the guards’ big hands clamped onto my arms propelled me onwards. The steel door to the old cellar came into sight and the three magi guarding the gate unlocked it and stood to attention. Oh gods, no.
Somebody had already set out gem-light lanterns, rope, and supplies. I gritted my teeth to avoid begging for my freedom; I refused to give them that satisfaction. Instead I spent the time they took readying supplies trying to control my emotions, to calm down and think. I almost had it all in hand too, a carefully crafted look of indifference on my face – until they dragged me into the inky darkness waiting just beyond that old portal of fevered nightmares. Air wafted up from the depths to caress my face with stale fingers and fill my lungs with musty terror. The clang of the gate locking behind us echoed in my ears once again, followed by the ghost of Harailt’s mocking laugh. I couldn’t do it, not again.
I bucked and jerked, snarling and biting like a feral beast. Suddenly Shadea was there, two gloved fingers clamping down on the fleshy part of my hand between thumb and forefinger, jabbing into nerve and muscle. Unbelievable agony devoured me. She didn’t use magic, just two fingers. The guards let me fall to my knees.
“Look at me, Edrin Walker,” Shadea said, squeezing harder. She wore a look of profound disgust. “You are already under suspicion of murder, tyranny, and magical corruption. I would recommend you exercise utmost restraint.”
She gave one last agonizing squeeze and then let go. I slumped there in the arms of the guards, not even able to clutch my hand to my chest. She cupped my face with her bare hand, as if daring me to attempt to take her mind. “I have dealt with your accursed kind of magus before,” she said. “Though none have lived so long. This is me being exceptionally lenient. Do not test me further.”
I shook my head. I really, really didn’t want to test her. Only a fool would fail to fear Shadea.
“Good,” she said. “Now behave like a magus. You have proven a disgrace to Setharis thus far. You will comply with each order promptly and efficiently.”
Her tone stuck in my craw and made me vomit up a bile of words. “Me? A disgrace? You all think you are so damn virtuous, so righteous,” I said. “This city is rotting, drowning in a pit of poverty and despair. Ever since I was a young pup I’ve seen people starving and selling their flesh for a few copper bits down in Docklands, but you lot don’t give a damn, haven’t ever lifted a finger to help them.”
I stared Shadea in the eye. We both knew that I was all bark and no bite, for the moment. “And you, looking down your nose at me; I might be scum by your cold calculations but at least I still live out there in the real world, not closeted up in my chambers for years on end. You’ve been buried in your scrolls too long and forgotten what it’s like for normal people. The rest of you are well on your way. Me, I still care about people, and in my own haphazard way I still try to help. I’ll be damned if I apologize for that.”
Eva had the good grace to look embarrassed at my rant, but then she was still young and vital. There was a hard truth in what I’d said. Every magus eventually felt the dislocation and knew they drifted away from the world of normal people as time passed. Less so for those that came from the High Houses, of course – they already lived in a privileged world of money and power that had little to do with the lives of normal people. The two pyromancers and Martain looked furious that I’d shot my mouth off in the presence of Shadea and Cillian.
“You can never help yourself, Edrin, not even once,” Cillian said. “Always with the brash words, always about you and what you think. You have no idea of the issues we must contend with.” She shook her head, a sour twist to her mouth, and then turned her back on me. “You must think me a fool if you expect me to believe your drinking and gambling ever helped anybody.”
I chuckled low and hard. How little she knew, how low her opinion of me. Not that I expected anything else, after all had I not expertly crafted my own wastrel image so that they wouldn’t think me a threat? Still, it stung. So maybe I hadn’t improved everybody’s lot in life, but I had damn well stopped things from getting a whole lot worse. My mentor Byzant had known that, and Shadea suspected.
The withered crone showed no reaction, my words like raindrops off oilcloth. “There will always be peasants toiling in the mud,” she said, “and there will always be impoverished wretches working day and night. What of it? Cheap and abundant labour is necessary for the efficient running of an empire.” One long-gone, I thought. “The smallfolk breed like rats and live near as long,” she continued. “They are just a herd of cattle to me, a resource. Do you expect me to care for them as if they were my own children?”
I lowered my eyes. “No. Sadly, I don’t.” I was horrified at the thought of how she might treat her own children.
Shadea pursed her lips. “A tyrant’s insight is most interesting. Let us hope that you are found guilty and we can engage in a more thorough discussion.”
I shuddered at the thought of the horrors she had in mind. “I’m no tyrant.”
“Magi with an affinity for fire magic are pyromancers,” Shadea said. “The usage and degree of power at their disposal is irrelevant. You are a tyrant.”
“I prefer peoplemancer,” I muttered.
“I’m sure you do,” she replied.
I wasn’t about to accept that from her. I opened my mouth to start arguing when Cillian finally had enough and snapped her fingers. My escort dragged me forward. I shook and scrabbled to open my Gift but the sanctor was close behind me, just far enough so the other magi remained unaffected.
“Control yourself, Edrin,” Cillian said. “If what you told me is the whole truth then you have nothing to worry about.”
“Well, not about this,” Martain said from behind. “There are other crimes to answer for.” I could well imagine the slimy git’s smug expression.
“Give me a damn moment,” I snapped. “None of you know what I went through down here.” But I knew I had to go. Today was Sumarfuin and we had to stop this blood sorcerer.
“No time,” Cillian said. “Evangeline – lead the way.”
I struggled, but it was useless. Eva advanced with her heavy knife in one hand and a lantern in the other, clear, bright, unwavering gem-light flooding the tunnel ahead. Her face looked daemonic in the lantern-light, a painting of shadow and malice. She was familiar with blades and was not the bookish type. She had to be a knight with full mastery of body-enhancing magics. No wonder she had almost broken my arm. If she had been serious she could have torn it off and beat me to death with it.
“If he will not walk then tie and carry him like a sack of grain,” Cillian said.
I was about to lose any chance of escape and couldn’t do a damn thing about it – a black scum of paralyzing terror oozed through my mind. The light shed by the lanterns seemed to fade away to pinpricks and everything went hazy. Then a spark of blood-red light appeared in my guttering mind. Fury exploded. Searing pain from my leg accompanied that familiar, inhuman surge of rage – Dissever.
My head snapped round to grin at my guards. They flinched. It took all my willpower to stop myself ripping their throats out with my teeth and letting their salty blood fill my mouth. I barely managed to choke down the bloodlust. “I’ll cope,” I snarled, walking on my own again. “Let’s get this over with.”
Shadea’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing my abrupt change. Not knowing what it was had to be killing her. As soon as I was no longer needed I was going to be in trouble there. It didn’t bother me; it wasn’t like I was going to live long enough for that.