Stealing Sorcery Page 14

  The stories say that he killed hundreds of men with his bare hands. Now that I think about it, that might have been at this very battle. Blades broke against the plates on his skin, and arrows bounced off any part of him they struck. Only sorcery had any effect at all, so he slaughtered sorcerers as soon as he found them.

  My false blade, he considered, awkwardly reaching for the grip of the fake sword, might not be strong enough.

  ***

  Taelien was escorted by four bulky Esharen, each at least a head taller than he was. Unlike the one real Esharen he had met, these looked almost human, with ordinary skin visible between their obsidian-like plates.

  I wonder what these Esharen are, he considered. People in extensive costumes are unlikely on such short notice. Perhaps they’re under illusions?

  While he was supposedly outdoors for the scenario, the bounds of the room were still clear – if there was a sight sorcerer making the Esharen, he hadn’t bothered to make the walls or ceiling invisible. It wasn’t a real problem, of course – the goal of the scenario wasn’t complete immersion. They were testing his strategic abilities, and possibly his combat prowess, not his ability to act.

  “Stand here, human,” one of the Esharen said, leading him into a marked circle on the ground. A fighting ring. I can deal with that. But where’s my opponent?

  The door on the opposite side of the room exploded.

  Taelien shielded his eyes from the wood splinters as smoke cleared away from the doorway, revealing a figure tall enough to brush the room’s ceiling. His skin was like polished obsidian, although the lower half of his body was covered by thick mail. He had no weapons on his belt – instead, strands of string draped small objects, that Taelien recognized after a moment to be human ears.

  Well, someone’s feeling theatrical.

  “It is a pleasure to meet the current bearer of the Sae’kes,” the huge Esharen spoke, his tone rich and full of mirth. “I’ve been anxious to have an artifact of my own for quite some time.”

  Taelien gritted his teeth, stepping into his side of the circle. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but your exposure to the weapon will be brief, and probably uncomfortable. Korvax, I assume?”

  The big Esharen grinned, shaking his head. “Oh, no, he’s presently busy dealing with your little invisible friends. Clever, having them stand by the gates while we opened it to meet you. I wasn’t expecting a human to be so canny.”

  Taelien shrugged a shoulder. Well, there goes that part of the plan. Maybe. He said they knew about the spies, not that they had caught them. “I appreciate the compliment. For what it’s worth, I’m impressed by your defenses. What name should I remember you by when you’re gone?”

  The Xixian brought back his head and gave deep, bellowing laugh. “You’re an amusing one. I think I’ll keep you around for a while, once you’ve been sufficiently tamed. But I’m being rude – I didn’t answer your question. Kyrzon Dek, Crown Prince of Xixis.”

  Oh, resh.

  The prince appeared in front of him a moment later, leaving a burst of smoke at his previous location. Taelien didn’t have time to draw his sword, he just barely managed to raise his right arm in time to block the prince slamming a fist forward with immense force, catapulting Taelien across the room. He slammed into the back wall, the protective spell that had been cast on him in the preparation chamber only serving to somewhat dampen the force of the impact.

  A wheezing breath escaped his lungs, and then Kyrzon Dek was above him, bringing a fist downward.

  Taelien pushed off of the wall, throwing himself into a roll. He had hoped to bring himself back to his feet in a single motion, but the impact had thrown him off balance, and he found himself awkwardly pushing himself from a kneeling position back to his feet.

  Something wrapped around his neck from behind, and Taelien slammed an elbow backward. He met solid resistance, but the grip on his neck loosened, and he raised his right hand and pointed it backward.

  Blast.

  The burst of flame that emerged from his hand was largely cosmetic – he had never managed a flame spell that dealt any real damage at range. As he expected, however, the force around his neck vanished, and Kyrzon appeared across the room a moment later. His opponent hadn’t risked being hit by the attack, as weak as it was.

  “Oh, a sorcerer, too! Delightful.” The Xixian prince knelt down, his previously human-looking fingers visibly shifting into claws.

  Transformation sorcery, Taelien noted. That’s unusual for a Xixian – it’s more common for Delarens – but not unheard of. More importantly, it’s really bad that he can do that. And also teleport.

  Fortunately, Taelien stood up, he also gave me a chance to breathe.

  The false Sae’kes sang as the blade scraped against the metal inside of the sheath, seven runes flaring to life on the surface of the weapon.

  “The last time I fought an Esharen,” Taelien said, wheezing slightly as he attempted to buy a moment of time to recover, “I beat him with my bare hands. You seem to be slightly stronger, though, so I’ll offer you the respect of meeting my blade.”

  “You beat an Esharen barehanded?” The prince brought a clawed hand to his chest, looking strangely like a mockery of the paladin salute. “Was this a baby, fresh from drinking mother’s milk?”

  Do Esharen drink milk?

  He had never considered that before.

  “No, fully grown, I’m afraid. Sadly, he lacked your skill at using sorcery to compensate for physical weakness.”

  “Oh, you wound me, dear human. Tell me, what name shall I inscribe upon the slave-band that I will place upon your neck?”

  Taelien grinned, cracking his neck. “Well, the name is Salaris. But, to you, the name Taelien might be more appropriate. After all, that’s the name of a legend that you stand no chance to defeat.”

  The prince vanished again, but this time Taelien was ready. He swept the blade out in a gleaming arc in front of him, sundering the air.

  Unfortunately, “ready” did not account for all possible positions.

  Kyrzon Dek descended from the sky.

  Taelien fell backward a moment before the Xixian impacted with him, which saved him from being eviscerated by the creature’s newly-formed claws. Instead, he felt a burning sensation as the sorcery-altered fingers ripped through his uniform and impacted his right shoulder, just before the creature’s full weight landed atop him and slammed him into the floor.

  His head swam, but Kyrzon Dek didn’t slow. Taelien barely managed to raise his left arm in time to block the next claw’s swipe, and he felt a surge of agony as the barrier along his arm flickered and faltered.

  The Esharen grabbed at his arms next, and while Taelien was nearly able to match the creature’s strength, its superior leverage kept him pinned to the ground. So, unable to move his arms, Taelien slammed his forehead into the Esharen’s nose.

  Kyrzon recoiled immediately, and that moment was all he needed. Taelien didn’t have much room to maneuver the false Sae’kes, but he didn’t need much, either. An ordinary sword’s edge would have had no effect on Kyrzon’s scales, but when Taelien ran the Sae’kes along the huge Esharen’s chest, the aura shredded plates and the tender flesh beneath. The demon prince shoved himself off the floor, and Taelien slashed as the larger man retreated, taking a gouge out of the creature’s leg.

  The Xixian prince vanished, reappearing near the door where he had entered.

  “Kill him,” the prince ordered, vanishing again.

  Taelien spun and rolled as he left the floor, bisecting the first Esharen in an instant. The other three froze as the two halves of the first fell to the ground. Taelien brandished the glowing blade, and then pointed it downward at the creature he had just slain.

  “I will allow you to flee,” Taelien offered the three remaining guards.

  They fled, exiting through the door that Kyrzon had entered.

  After a moment, he processed what had just happened. I really hope I didn’t just cut an a
ctor in half. That had to be an illusion...

  Taelien took a deep breath, glancing around the room, and realizing that he had been left alone.

  After a moment of checking himself for real injuries, Taelien determined that he was fully intact – although his uniform’s shoulder had been badly damaged. He wasn’t sure if that would get him into trouble or not.

  Uncertain of how to proceed with the scenario, he headed for the area where Kyrzon had appeared, walking to the gap where the Xixian prince had entered – and slammed straight into an invisible wooden wall.

  Of course they didn’t actually blow up the door, Taelien realized, shaking his head. It’s just an illusion.

  He heard the sound of the door he had entered from opening, and Trace walked into the room.

  “You’ve completed this part of the scenario.” He had only the slightest hint of emotion in his tone, but he was grinning broadly. “Come back into the waiting area.”

  Taelien sheathed the false Sae’kes and followed Trace back into the previous room. Most of the judges looked up at him as he entered, giving him varying looks. He couldn’t read most of them, but one of them – a younger man – gave him a nod.

  That’s a good sign, right?

  “Well, that was, um, unusual,” Trace offered. “I’m afraid we’re not prepared to simulate the entire city, so if you’ll let me know what your next plans are, I’ll relay them to the judges.”

  “Before that. Those four guards – they were just sight and sound sorcery effects, right?” The swordsman’s right hand twitched when he thought about the possibility that he had actually just cut someone in half.

  “Of course they were. Only the demon prince was solid.” Trace gave him a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?

  Taelien shook his head. “I was just disturbed by the thought that I might have just hurt an actor in a costume.”

  “Oh, we wouldn’t take that kind of risk. Don’t worry about it. Are you injured at all? Looked like you took a few serious hits back there.”

  “Doing just fine. Can I have a minute to think about the next steps in my plan?”

  “Sure. I think it would be at least a few minutes before the Esharen sent someone else to kill you.”

  “Right.” A few main options at this point. I could try to sync up with the infiltrators and help rescue the prince. They might need the help. On the other hand, I might make things worse by attracting more attention to them – I’m not very good at stealth.

  I could try to go rescue the prince separately. I know the city layout relatively well, and I know the palace layout even better.

  I could try to follow Kyrzon Dek. Killing him would be a tremendous blow to the Xixian Empire as a whole – but I think I’ve lost my window to do that. He won’t make the mistake of fighting me in melee combat again, now that I’ve cut him.

  I could try to find Korvax, but he could be practically anywhere, so that option wouldn’t really work.

  Or I could probably get out of the city intact and report back that our infiltrators are being hunted. Maybe someone outside the walls could send help.

  Or maybe I’m fixating too much on taking immediate action.

  “I’m going to go find an empty house and hide.”

  Trace blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Given that the city is about to come under siege, they’ve probably evacuated some of the locations near the walls. Even if they haven’t formally evacuated anything, I can probably just find a place to hide somewhere. I’d regret having to fight civilians if I run into any, but I could probably scare them off. I’d hide until the bombardment starts, and then once the battle is going in earnest, I’ll go for the prince. If the infiltration squad already saved him, great. If not, I’ll do it myself.”

  “Okay. How long would you wait after the bombardment starts before heading to the palace?”

  “Only a few minutes. There’s the possibility that they might try to move or execute Adellan once the battle begins, especially since they know we sent in spies. It’s possible he’s already dead. If I find evidence of that, I’ll try to take one of the Xixian royals as my own prisoner and extract him or her from the city.”

  “Huh. I, well, wouldn’t have considered that. I’ll go tell the judges.” Trace ran off to the judge’s table, leaning down and exchanging more hushed conversation with them. He returned to Taelien after several minutes.

  “You’ve given us enough to begin evaluating your test results.”

  Taelien blinked. “Really? That’s it?”

  Trace laughed. “Usually it’s over a lot faster than that, actually. But you didn’t hear that from me. And remember, no talking to any of the candidates about this until you’re all done.”

  “So…did I pass?”

  Trace shrugged. “No idea. The judges will need time to make a decision. But either way, you gave us a pretty impressive show.”

  Chapter IX – Jonan II – Old Friends

  Velthryn’s winding streets were somewhat easier to navigate in the dawnfire’s light, but only slightly. The city had grown rapidly from its founding until a mere fifty years ago, when Edrick Theas had laid the city’s famous boundary wards – a series of protection rituals that made the walls nearly impervious to harm. The wards were broadly believed to have other functions, such as preventing teleportation into the city from outside, but Jonan didn’t know the details.

  He did, however, notice one of the consequences. When the wards were built, the city could no longer be built outward, otherwise the wards would lose their function. From that point on, the citizens had been forced to build in other directions – upward and down.

  Selyr had its share of tall towers and majestic keeps, but they were few and reserved for the wealthy. Nearly every structure in Velthryn, however, was several floors tall. Individual houses were practically nonexistent outside of the wealthiest areas. Those wealthy areas were easy to discern visually, but the city didn’t seem to follow the same structure of clear districts that Selyr and Orlyn did, at least so far as Jonan could tell.

  Tall housing complexes sat directly adjacent to warehouses, restaurants, and shops. The civilians seemed to know their way around instinctively, but the servant of Vaelien often found himself frowning at his map, pondering what sort of madness could have led to a city so lacking in organization.

  It was midday before he found Orison Park, one of the few spots of green in a city of cobblestones and grey masonry. He paused to take a breath of the air nearer to the trees, hoping that the scent would remind him of the familiar forest air of home, but that effort ended in failure. The wood here had a sweet scent that struck him as unnatural, far unlike the sharpness of pine that he had grown accustomed to.

  He found the twisting trails within the park easier to navigate – these, at least, appeared to lead specifically to or past points of interest. He passed a large statue of Lorain Valere, one of the city’s founders, and smiled at the children that were attempting to climb up the base. Past that, the trail led him to a pond. A group of young men were running circles around it, while a couple took turns tossing something – food, perhaps? – near a group of birds in the water.

  Passing these people by, Jonan trekked onward, finally finding his destination – a lone bench, a familiar figure sitting atop it, a book pressed close against her face.

  Jonan paused for a moment, uncertain what to say in spite of the hours he had spent aware of his destination.

  Lydia spoke first, without even looking up from the pages. “Good morning, Jonan. Join me?”

  He silently took a seat by her side, and she set the book down on her lap a moment later. Instinctively, his eyes shifted to the cover of the tome as she moved.

  “Reading more of Tarren’s work? Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Jonan had read several of Tarren’s works – they were practically a mandatory part of any sorcerer’s education – but he found the scholar’s style too informal and whimsical for his tastes.

  “
He’s the expert on something I’ve been needing to study. But we’ll get to that.”

  He nodded, glancing around. “Beautiful morning.”

  “Is it?” Lydia followed his gaze, and then shook her head. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Truthfully, he hadn’t really, either – but someone else had mentioned it to him earlier, and he had long ago learned to mimic platitudes to mask his own awkwardness.

  “So, uh, it’s been a while.”

  “It certainly has. Thank you for coming on such short notice. I wouldn’t have asked if there wasn’t a good reason.”

  A good reason? I suppose just wanting to see me wasn’t good enough.

  “I suspected as much,” he replied. And I was already in Velthryn, but she can’t know that. “What do you need my help with?”

  She tilted her head to the side, allowing a free strand of red to fall in front of her eyes. “A couple things, actually. First, I was hoping you’d be willing to share the results of your studies of Donovan’s sorcerous experiments.”

  Several months earlier, Jonan and Lydia had worked together to investigate Donovan Tailor, a former Priest of Sytira who had set himself up as a “god” in the city of Orlyn. They had found evidence that Donovan had discovered a new way of applying ancient sorcerous techniques, which the sorcerer had used to fake his divine status.

  Their work had resulted in Donovan’s arrest, and Jonan had managed to hold on to Donovan’s cryptic research notes when they had left the city. Throughout the intervening time period, studying those notes had occupied the vast majority of Jonan’s time. He had sent Lydia several messages about his progress – via a dominion bonded hand mirror that shared images with her own matching mirror – but he had kept the notes deliberately vague, just in case Lydia had somehow lost her mirror.

  “I suppose I could, but I’m not sure this is really the right place.” He looked around again, not seeing any civilians in the immediate vicinity, but knowing that he had seen people no more than a few minutes away.