Martin Hengst - The Last Swordmage

“Enough, you two.” The king lowered his rickety frame into a sturdy chair and poured a glass of wine from a flagon on the council table. “We’ll get to the bottom of this soon enough.”

No sooner was that said than Valyn and Faxon entered with Tiadaria. Another man in a robe followed them. Royce recognized him as Adamon, a mage and Grand Inquisitor of the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences.

Royce swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat. Inquisitors had one role and one role only: to mete out justice to errant mages. There were many forms that justice could take, but the most severe was censure. The ritual would sever the link between the mage and their magic. In many cases, it was a fate worse than death.

Deprived of their connection to the Quintessential Sphere, the energy of all things, the mages would often go mad. Those that didn’t often turned to suicide to end their torment. The few that remained were hollow husks, shells of the men and women they had once been. They were referred to by many as the lost, and Royce couldn’t help but agree. There was a difference between living and merely existing.

So why was Adamon here? Had they learned Tiadaria’s secret, and by extension, his? Confronted with a reality that countermanded the natural order, had they sought to censure the girl? The talent for using both spell and steel was one that Royce had thought was limited to his bloodline. Tiadaria proved that untrue. How many others in the world had the ability? How long would it take for the Academy to discover their existence and hunt them down?

The Academy had little tolerance for rogue mages, those who didn’t receive formal training from childhood and overseen in their strict hierarchy. If they had discovered that the girl was a slave as well as a mage…

Valyn dropped to one knee before the king, his salute dismissed by a half-hearted wave from the sovereign. The mages bowed respectfully but did not kneel. Their haughty demeanor had always ruffled Royce’s feathers. He wondered if they’d retain their smug and superior airs if he told them that he too, was tapped into the Quintessential Sphere. He reined in his savage thoughts. Bouncing back and forth between fear and hostility was a good way to get killed. He forced himself to breath, struggling to attain an inner calm that matched his passive exterior.

“Alright,” the king said, looking each man in the eye in turn. “What’s going on?”

The sudden outburst from all sides that resulted from that simple question would have been comical under any other circumstance. Valyn and Faxon both took up their tale at the same time, with Tiadaria chiming in with her own explanation just a moment after. Shaking his head, the king held up his hand for silence.

“If I may,” Adamon said quietly, stepping between Faxon and Valyn and approaching the king. “The slave was found in possession of this dagger.”

The inquisitor produced the weapon and offered it to the king, hilt first. The king took the offering and turned it over in his hands as Adamon continued.

“An Initiate was murdered tonight, a stone’s throw from the market square. I don’t know why he was outside the Academy past curfew, but that seems to be going around.” He looked at Tia and she dropped her eyes. “I do know that the dagger you now hold did not kill him. The wound was torn, not made by as sharp or fine a blade as that one. The girl, it would seem, is innocent of murder. As for her presence in the city…” He nodded to Royce, who stiffened at the gesture. “Regardless of why she is here, she is, and she is the only witness to what happened in the alley where a promising young mage lost his life.”

The king turned the blade over in his hand. Royce wondered how long it would be before he recognized it. Royce had carried that blade every day for nearly thirty years, had stood side by side with the king with it on his belt so often that he had lost track of the occasions and events. Now this girl, a slave, carried it. Certainly he would see the meaning in that, if he chose to see it.

He looked directly into Tiadaria’s eyes and she blushed under the shrewd appraisal. They stood that way for several moments, separated by three feet and seventy-odd years. He flipped the blade in the air, as deft as a man less than twice his years, and caught the blade neatly between thumb and forefinger. He offered it to the girl, who hesitated only a moment before she accepted the offering and slipped it back into the sheath on her belt.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Tiadaria, your grace.” She dropped to one knee, a perfect mimic of the gesture that Valyn had made before. Royce dared look at Torus, who no longer seemed to be as openly skeptical of the girl or her role in the killing. His eyes landed on Royce and he shrugged, as if to say it was out of his hands. It was definitely out of their hands, Royce thought. This impromptu performance would play out between Tiadaria and the king. The rest of the players would wait in the wings until their lines were called.

“Lady Tiadaria,” the king began with grave formality, “please tell us about the events that transpired tonight.”

“Against the Captain’s orders, I decided that I wanted to explore the city tonight, so I left the inn and found my way to the market square. There was a girl there singing and a woman playing an instrument as big as she was, that I haven’t ever seen before. I even saw Sir Valyn making the rounds. After the song was over, the people started dancing and things got very crowded. I was worried about people finding out about me…”

She trailed off and Royce felt for her as her hand went to her neck and touched her collar. If it weren’t for that damned collar, things might be different. To her credit, she quickly regained her composure and went on.

“Anyway, I was worried about being discovered, so I decided to go back to the inn. I wanted to get there as quickly as possible, so I figured that the alley that ran between buildings would take me to the road behind the stables. I was almost to the turn between the alleys when the mage backed into the intersection.”

“He was already wounded; there was blood all down the front of his robes. Then this…thing, I think it was a Xarundi, threw him into the wall. There was a shout behind me, and that’s when Valyn and the others showed up.”

“Sir Valyn,” the king corrected her absently. “What did the beast look like?”

“It was at least as tall as the mage and it stood up on its feet. I think it had black fur, but I couldn’t really see. It had its side turned to me. Before it ran off, it turned on me, and its eyes will stay with me the rest of its life. It’s like they were smoldering coals, but blue instead of orange.”

Royce watched the startled look that passed between the girls three warders. Had it been any other time, in any other place, their bewilderment would have been amusing. There wasn’t anything funny about this. Not even remotely. Faxon was the first to regain his composure. He grasped Tia’s shoulder and turned her toward him.

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“She’s telling the truth, Faxon.” Torus sighed, running his hand over his close cropped scalp. “That’s why the Captain and I are here. Every living thing in Doshmill was massacred and there were signs of…well, many of the bodies were desecrated. Then they burned the village to the ground. We think it was a warning.”

“A Xarundi…within the city?”

Royce thought Valyn looked like a man drowning, searching desperately for the end of a rope. In truth, he didn’t blame him. The Xarundi had come close to extinguishing mankind once before. The losses the Imperium had taken during the last war were staggering. He shuddered to think what would happen if the beasts were to attack in force again. There were still those old enough to remember the previous incursion. The panic would be hard to quell.