Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

She spotted two militia guards running up a narrow lane, and she didn’t stop running until she reached them. “Mage…” Leaning over, she rested her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. “A man in black attacking-”

“Val,” one of the guards said.

She squinted. “Lae?”

Laedron took her hand. “Attacked you? Creator! You look like you’ve been through the hells.”

“I’ll be fine, but one of the militia fights with him still. You’ve got to stop him.”

Laedron turned to Jurgen. “Return to headquarters with Valyrie. We’ll take care of this one. Tell Piers what has passed here and have him send help.”

She took Laedron in an embrace. “Be careful. We’ll see you back at the chapel.”

The hug seemed to last an eternity, the safety of Laedron’s arms filling her with a warmth she hadn’t felt for a long time. Clearing his throat, Laedron returned her to Jurgen’s side, then took off with Marac toward the west gate.

Laedron peered through the entry into the Ancient Quarter with a heavy heart. He recalled how powerful Gustav had been, and he only hoped that he had a chance at fighting the mage who was somewhere beyond. Then, he caught sight of a man in black rushing toward them, probably in pursuit of Jurgen and Valyrie.

The man stopped a hundred paces away and stared at Laedron and Marac, seeming to study them as they approached. Laedron paused after passing the portcullis and reached into his boot.

“No,” Marac said, readying his shield. “You can’t.”

“We stand no chance otherwise.” Laedron drew Ismerelda’s scepter.

“Houses ablaze ahead,” the man yelled, starting toward them again. “Several men dead, and a madman slashing about. I must leave this crazed place.”

“Not so fast.” Laedron held up his rod. “The houses may be on fire, but we’ll handle that in due time. The madman of whom you speak is you, Sorcerer, and we shall deal with you now!”

“Deal with me?” The man chuckled, then raised his wand. “Since you’ve made it clear that you know what I am, why don’t you simply let me pass? We’ll forget the matter, and you’ll live.”

The man must not have noticed what Laedron held, and Laedron decided to use that to his advantage. If he doesn’t know I’m a mage, he might not notice a ward spell on Marac’s shield . Laedron whispered an incantation under his breath, concentrating on the ruby set in the scepter. Marac’s shield glowed dimly with a silver vibrancy not unlike the color of its paint, and Laedron moved to stand behind him. Pushing Marac forward, he maintained the spell, and Marac continued at a steady pace and drew his sword.

The man in black sighed. “Another group of militia who don’t know a good deal when they hear one, it would seem. Very well. Only a bit of time wasted.”

The sorcerer flicked his wand while speaking a spell, and a lightning bolt flashed across the open ground, squarely striking Marac’s shield. Marac faltered for a moment, but pushed forward again once he had recovered.

“Wooden shield? That’s fine. How about a little fire?” the man shouted, raising his wand once more. With the utterance of some words, a ray of flames shot from the end of the man’s wand and crashed into Marac’s shield. Though Laedron could feel the heat warming his flesh, he kept his concentration strong. A loss of focus will mean my death and Marac’s. I won’t let my friends down again!

“What’s this?” The man sounded nervous. “Unaffected? Impossible!”

His head aching, Laedron released the spell and stepped out from behind Marac. “No, not impossible, not when magic is involved.”

“You… what do you know of magic?”

“Enough.” Laedron flicked his wrist and shouted an incantation before the man in black could react. A swirling black and red stream of energy struck the man’s hand, causing him to drop his wand.

“Another sorcerer? How can this be?” The man grasped his wand hand and winced. “How can this be?”

“You shall have plenty of time to think about the answer to that question in jail.”

The man laughed and reached for his fallen wand, but Laedron quickly cast again, shattering it.

“No, no more spells,” Laedron said. “You’re coming with us.”

“What is the meaning of this?” a voice shouted from Laedron’s right. “What are you doing?”

Laedron glanced in the direction of the voice, then closed his eyes, regretting that he had displayed the rod in public. He had become the focus of a squad of militia who had happened upon his flank. He was unable to keep the cold chills from racing up and down his spine, the fear of being half a world away from his home and fully exposed before those who would see his kind dead.

On his knees, the man in black raised his face to the sky and cackled. Even though the man surely knew he was condemned to death, he seemed to take pleasure in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone on the gallows. Hatred and anger welled up inside Laedron, and he counted the guards, considering for a moment if he could defeat them all.

“Drop it,” Marac said, tapping Laedron on the hand with the flat of his blade. “Put the thing down and come peacefully with us.”

Good, Marac. At least one of us stands a chance of getting out of here alive . Laedron put his scepter on the ground and held his hands outstretched at his sides.

“They’re in it together,” the other sorcerer started before taking Marac’s boot to the face.

“Enough out of you, fiend.” Marac picked up the rod, and the guards approached. “We’ll take them to the headquarters. Master Greathis will surely want to question them.”

An older militia man, a sergeant, if Laedron remembered the insignia correctly, stepped out in front of the others. “What has happened here?”

“I came upon these two quibbling in the street, then this one…” Marac pointed at Laedron. “… shot a spell at that one. I’m glad you showed up when you did, for I might have been killed.”

“What’s this business about you two being ‘in it together?’” the sergeant asked.

Marac shook his head. “I knew this one when I joined, but I didn’t know he meddled in the dark arts. Had I known that, I would’ve gone to Greathis much sooner.”

The sergeant narrowed his eyes. “I see. We’ll let Master Greathis sort this out.” He turned to the squad and pointed at the other sorcerer. “Pick that up and bring it along.”

* * *

His hands bound in chains, Laedron fell to his knees in Greathis’s office. The guards threw the man in black down beside him, and Marac stood to Laedron’s left. I might as well get used to living in chains if I survive this. It would seem the only thing I can do well is get captured . Greathis sat quietly behind his desk.

“We caught these two sorcerers in the Ancient Quarter,” the sergeant said.

“Leave us,” Greathis replied with a harsh tone. Laedron figured the tone was directed more at him because Master Greathis hadn’t looked at anyone else.

The sergeant left and closed the heavy oak door behind him. The room remained silent for what seemed an eternity.

Greathis studied the man in black. “What’s your name?”

The man laughed.

“Tell me your name.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” Greathis said, standing and walking around the desk, “if you do not, you’ll rot in prison until you do.”

“If you even knew the people I work for, you’d know how empty your words are. Put me in your prison, but I’ll be out before dawn.”

Greathis turned to the door. “Wilkans!”