Luke Scull - The Grim Company

Brodar Kayne looked puzzled. ‘Why’s that?’

Despite his growing annoyance, Cole couldn’t help but grin. He knew the answer to that question.

‘Magebane’s magic will only work for those possessing the blood of a true hero,’ Garrett replied. He shifted a little as he said it, as if the words made him slightly uncomfortable.

Brodar Kayne scratched his nose and then grinned. ‘Counts me out then. I never claimed to be no hero. But what’s to stop you refusing to pay up after I’ve fulfilled my part of the deal? It ain’t like I could find you again in a city this size.’

The leader of the Shards pursed his lips and said nothing. In the silence that followed, Cole could hear the tick tock tick tock of the timepiece in Garrett’s pocket.

‘I’ll hang onto this dagger,’ Kayne said eventually. ‘When our business at the Rift is concluded I’ll hand it back to your lad here. Just as soon as I’ve got the thirty gold spires you’re about to offer. Fifteen each for both me and the Wolf there, I reckon.’

Garrett narrowed his eyes. ‘You barter like a merchant,’ he complained. ‘Fine. We have a deal. Just be sure to keep that dagger safe. Its value cannot be underestimated. It is the one thing that can negate a Magelord’s magic.’

‘I won’t let it out of my sight,’ said Brodar Kayne.

Cole had heard enough. He rose angrily. ‘It looks like I’ll need to find another weapon. What time are we leaving?’

‘You’re not going anywhere, Davarus.’

Cole paused. What was Garrett talking about? ‘Look, my ribs are fine,’ he said in exasperation. ‘Even with these injuries, I’m still quicker than anyone here.’ He swept his gaze over the assembled Shards, daring any of them to gainsay him.

‘It’s not about your injuries.’ Garrett’s voice was heavy with weariness. ‘You nearly got yourself killed today. You disobeyed my explicit instructions and almost drew disaster down on us all.’ His voice softened slightly and grew sad. ‘I’ve raised you since you were eight years old. I love you like my own son, Davarus. But you refuse to do as I ask. You think only of yourself and glory. You must learn to act as part of a group before I can trust you again.’

Cole could hardly believe what he was hearing. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he protested. ‘I’m the best man for this mission! You know I am! This is what I was born to do!’

‘I’m sorry, Davarus,’ Garrett said.

Cole looked around, desperately seeking support. No one met his gaze except the old Highlander, who remained silent.

‘I’m Davarus Cole!’ he shouted furiously. ‘My father was a man without equal! You can all cower around and pretend you’re making a difference. I won’t stand by as an innocent is murdered in the street.’ He reached down under his leather vest and withdrew the green quartz crystal Garrett had given him on his eighteenth naming day, when he had been officially sworn in as a member of the Shards. It hung on a simple cord of leather. He gave it a hard tug and the cord snapped around his neck.

He stared at the crystal for a moment as it rested in his palm. He remembered how proud he’d been when Garrett had presented it to him. Twelve years the man had been as a father to him. Over half his life. And this was how he treated his prodigal foster son?

Cole shook his head in disgust and, to the collective gasps of those seated around the fire, tossed the crystal into the flame. Then he stormed out of the temple of the Mother and into the stinging night rain where two hundred miles to the south the city of Shadowport had at that moment ceased to exist.

‘You may rise.’

Barandas did as he was commanded, shocked at the exhaustion in that ancient voice. The undisputed master of Dorminia and arguably the most powerful man in the north had never sounded so decrepit. It was an unsettling revelation, even for the city’s Supreme Augmentor.

He risked a quick glance at the men sitting before him as he straightened. Lord Salazar slumped forwards in his obsidian throne, his age-spotted hands clutching at the sides for support. Those voluminous robes of deep scarlet he always wore fell around his thin body like a shroud. The harsh lines of the Magelord’s dusky face were accentuated by fatigue, and his eyes were sunk even deeper than usual, shadowed by circles almost as black as the throne he sat upon. Even the beard and moustache he kept so meticulously well oiled, an ancient Gharzian custom he had never discarded, seemed to droop with weariness.

In contrast, Grand Magistrate Timerus, sitting to the left of Lord Salazar, positively glowed with satisfaction. Like the city’s ruler, Timerus was not of Andarran ancestry; though he had been born in Dorminia, the Grand Magistrate shared the unmistakable features of the men and women of Ishar to the east. The chief steward of the city’s affairs placed a long index finger to the side of his hawk-like nose and gave Barandas an appraising look.

On the other side of the Magelord, Marshal Halendorf of the Crimson Watch sat with his hands folded on his lap and a ghost of a smile on his corpulent face.

Go ahead and gloat, gentlemen , Barandas thought irritably. You won’t find it so amusing when the White Lady discovers the city’s Augmentor force has been shattered .

‘I trust you are sufficiently recovered,’ Salazar said eventually. As it happened, Barandas still felt weak, but he would never admit to such. Not in front of the Magelord and the city’s two most powerful magistrates.

‘I am fine, my lord. However, I regret to inform you that twenty-one Augmentors lost their bondmagic. Fortunately, none of them died in the process.’

Salazar pursed his narrow lips. ‘Over half my Augmentors,’ he stated, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Barandas felt a flutter of apprehension. The Tyrant of Dorminia might be exhausted to the point of tottering from his throne, but he could snuff out the lives of everyone in this chamber in the blink of an eye — and would, given reason to do so. Shadowport’s fate was a testament to that.

‘Yes, my lord. Mostly the new and inexperienced. We lost one or two veterans, but the core of your Augmentors remains strong.’

Timerus leaned forwards. ‘I expect your erstwhile colleagues will need something to lessen the discomfort. I understand that being parted from one’s bondmagic can be a traumatic experience.’ The Grand Magistrate’s beady eyes were mocking. He felt nothing but hatred and contempt for the Supreme Augmentor. The feeling was mutual.

‘They’ll suffer for a week or two. Most of them will survive it,’ Barandas replied. ‘After the worst has passed, I would like to see them given positions elsewhere. I’m sure their skills would be useful in the Watch.’ He gave Halendorf a pointed look.

‘I’ll consider it,’ the Marshal said. ‘I should say that the Crimson Watch has little use for addicts.’

‘Which is precisely why they won’t be swapping magic for narcotics,’ Barandas replied, narrowing his eyes at Timerus. The Grand Magistrate said nothing, simply smiled his lizard’s smile.

Salazar raised a hand for silence. ‘You will do as the Supreme Augmentor asks, Marshal. I will tolerate no further discussion on this issue.’ He snapped his fingers and a maid scurried over with a golden goblet full of the red wine the Magelord favoured. He swirled the blood-coloured liquid around in the chalice almost absently, staring into its depths as if seeing events and places long past.

‘Shadowport is gone,’ he said. ‘Though I won’t presume Marius is dead until I see his corpse. He was ever a superb strategist, plotting schemes within schemes. His cunning served us well, back when the Congregation began cleansing the lands of those with the gift.’ He sipped the wine and closed his eyes. For a moment Barandas thought Salazar had drifted off to sleep. Then his eyes shot open and his voice once again rang with the iron authority they were all accustomed to. ‘With Shadowport out of the picture the White Lady is certain to move against me. There will never be a better time for Thelassa to consolidate power in the Trine.’