Труди Канаван - The Magician’s Apprentice

Lord Dakon grasped the handle of the knife. The king let go of the blade, and as he turned to see who had taken it he, too, stared in obvious astonishment.

“Lord Dakon . . .” he began, then frowned and did not continue.

As the magician who had given Hanara freedom stepped up to Takado’s side, Takado hissed.

“You? What joke is this? Of all the Kyralians you choose the most pathetic of all to kill me?” He shook his head weakly. “He won’t kill me. He’s too squeamish.”

Dakon nodded. “Unlike you, I don’t relish killing. I asked myself many times why I joined in this invasion of Sachaka, why I said nothing against the unnecessary slaughter. Now I see it was to get to the necessary slaughter. And I find I’m not squeamish at all.” He dropped to one knee and raised the knife above Takado. Hanara felt the hand on his arm tighten. He realised he had begun to move forward.

“I only did it to help our people,” Takado shouted, straining to look at the emperor.

“Don’t we all,” Dakon replied, and his arm jerked downwards.

Then it was just like Hanara’s nightmare, yet all the details were wrong. His imagination had conjured far more gruesome and magical deaths for his master. Not this one, clean stab.

As Takado gasped and spasmed, Hanara cried out. He strained against the guard’s arm, but didn’t struggle. His eyes took in every twitch Takado made, how his muscles slowly relaxed, how a thin stream of blood spread across his chest and trickled down to pool on the floor. He felt liquid run down his face, as if in mimicry. He knew that several of the magicians had turned to stare at him, but he didn’t care.

Dakon rose and waited, then as Takado stilled he leaned forward and removed the knife. The king reached for it, wiped the blade on a cloth he’d produced from somewhere, then stowed it back in its hidden sheath. Dakon returned to his place behind the king.

Errik looked up at the emperor and smiled. “You and your rebel have, through seeking to conquer us, made us stronger than we have ever been. Without you we’d have remained weak and uncooperative, distrustful of each other. You forced us together, forced us to make magical discoveries that we will be refining and developing for years to come. I would not be surprised if the Sachakan Empire is eventually forgotten, eclipsed by the new age that begins in Kyralia.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, though he kept smiling. “And for me you have done a great favour. Before this war I doubt my people would have accepted a king with no magic. But now I have proved that a king can still lead, still defeat an enemy, still conquer an empire despite having no magic of his own. The ordinary people of Kyralia have, themselves, contributed to the defence of their country. After that I doubt any will dare to suggest their king is not fit to rule.” He paused. “But there is one more decision to be made here. One last step to be taken. You know what it is.”

The emperor’s shoulders dropped. “Yes, I know it,” he said, his voice low and dark. “I am a magician, as you know. I have the strength of the best source slaves of this land. Many of them, many times. But it will not be enough to defeat you. So I will not fight you.” He straightened. “I surrender, myself and all Sachaka, to you.”

“I accept,” the king replied.

Someone muttered something. The two leaders frowned and turned to look at the other magicians. The one who had always been at the king’s side shook his head.

“We can’t trust him. He most likely has the power he claims he holds. While he does he is dangerous.”

The king spread his hands. “He has surrendered. Must I force him to give us his magic as well as his power? It is too much to ask.”

Hanara stared at the king in surprise. The emperor was regarding his conqueror with a knowing look.

“Yes,” the Elyne replied. “But there is another way. Have him transfer his power into the storestone. Not directly, of course. Someone should take it from him and then transfer it.”

“What if he attacks the one transferring it?” someone asked.

“If he hasn’t attacked us already, why would he do so during the transfer?” the Elyne reasoned.

“I volunteer to do the transferring.” The young magician who had stepped back so Dakon could take the king’s knife stepped forward.

“Thank you, Lord Narvelan.” King Errik nodded. “Do it.”

A strange scene followed, in which the young man took the emperor’s hand in one hand, and the Elyne’s in the other. The Elyne brought out a large gemstone which he held in his fist. A long, silent moment passed, then the three broke apart.

I have no idea what happened , Hanara mused. What is a store-stone? Clearly it was capable of holding magic. But why put magic into a stone?

Discussion had begun on practical matters. Hanara stopped listening and found himself gazing at Takado again.

His master’s eyes still stared at the ceiling. His mouth was slightly open. What would happen to him now? Would someone burn the body with the proper rites? Hanara doubted it. He felt the hand holding his arm squeeze, and looked up. One of the magicians was pointing towards him. The others had also turned to regard him.

“Him? He is the slave of the Betrayer,” the emperor said, nodding at Takado’s corpse.

“Really?” the young magician said. Hanara felt his heart sink as the man walked towards him and stopped a few steps away. “Hanara, isn’t it? I think Dakon would like to have a chat with you.” He smiled, but there was no friendliness in it. Hanara looked down, avoiding the man’s eyes, which looked a little crazed.

“Let him go,” the magician ordered.

The hand slid from Hanara’s arm. Surprised, Hanara glanced up, then quickly away from those strange eyes.

“I think I might need a slave of my own while we sort things out here,” the magician said. “You’ll do for now. Come with me.” The magician spun on his heel and walked away.

Swallowing hard, Hanara glanced back at the guard. The man shrugged, then made a shooing motion.

“Come on.”

Hanara looked up. The magician had stopped, and was beckoning. Taking a deep breath, Hanara forced himself to obey.

Forgive me, master , he thought as they passed Takado’s corpse. But I’m only a slave. And a slave, as they say, doesn’t get to choose his master. His master chooses him.

Pain throbbed through Tessia’s head. She wanted to sink back into oblivion, but the sharpness of it gave her no choice. She snapped into full consciousness.

Opening her eyes, she lifted hands to her head and instinctively felt for damage. There was a swelling to one side, but nothing more, and her hands did not come away stained with blood.

Haltingly, cautiously, she shifted other limbs and pushed herself up onto her elbows. She felt more bruises, but nothing worse. Her head swam for a moment, then cleared.

I’m fine. Uninjured.

She could not recall how she had ended up like this. She remembered having to leave the garden after they heard sounds of people moving about inside the house. She recalled hurrying down the main road, trying to keep to the shadows. She remembered passing burning houses. After that... nothing.

Had they been attacked? She’d not even been shielding. Jayan had told her to avoid using any magic unless she needed to. She hadn’t seen what had knocked her out. Her and . . .

Jayan? Where? She sat up and cast about. It was dark, only a glow of red from a fire burning low nearby lighting the road and rubble. Everything smelled of smoke and dust. Not daring to create a light and risk revealing her position, she got to her feet and felt her way forwards, circling about.