Mageborn Page 16

  She knew from some of the older students that it wasn’t just stories about Balfruss that people discussed in taverns. There were a few about him and Munroe being involved with a war between criminal Families in Perizzi five or six years ago. The details were sketchy but every tale put him and Munroe at the heart of them.

  Judging by his level of wariness it seemed like the rumours she’d heard were true. Seekers were being attacked in villages and towns across the west when they went to test children. People seemed to think they were responsible for a few children losing control of their magic. It would explain why all of the teaching staff seemed so on edge. She’d thought about telling her friends, but they had enough to worry about. Danoph with his woes about his people and Wren with her ongoing issues with Brunwal.

  “I’ll be right back,” said Tianne, feeling a tightness in her belly.

  “You have a bladder the size of a walnut,” said Danoph, lying down and closing his eyes again. Tianne tossed her book at him which landed on his stomach, making him gasp.

  As she came out of the washroom Tianne found the dormitory was completely empty. It was so tempting. She just wanted to lie down on her bed and sleep away the rest of the afternoon. The teachers had relaxed the rules a little but she didn’t think they’d go that far.

  With a sigh she marched to the front door and then stepped back quickly, reaching for the Source.

  “I just want to talk!” said the boy who’d suddenly appeared in the doorway. Tianne didn’t know his name but she’d seen him following Brunwal around like a lapdog. He was one of the group who had been there when Brunwal had beaten Wren unconscious. It didn’t matter to her that he was from Zecorria as well. That hadn’t helped her when she’d first arrived and Brunwal had bullied her until she’d lost in a duel. The boy had been jeering along with all of the others.

  “Get out of my way,” said Tianne, drawing more power into her body until it thrummed against her temples. She could attack him first and everyone would believe it had been in self-defence. He and the others who hung around Brunwal had unpleasant reputations.

  “I’m not here to fight,” he said, glancing around. She backed away from the door and braced herself for his friends to rush into the dormitory after him. Instead he followed her in and closed the door. “Please, I just want to talk.”

  So far he hadn’t reached for the Source, but Tianne wasn’t as gullible as she used to be. She wouldn’t be caught unaware. She would fight him with everything she had.

  For now she decided to play along. “Then talk.”

  He moved away from the door to the far corner and she followed him in parallel, making sure there was plenty of open space around her. If he tried anything, or anyone tried to come at her, she would see them before they were within arm’s reach.

  “I’m Mozell.”

  “I don’t care. What do you want?”

  Mozell ran a hand through his hair and stared out of the window. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten she was even there. “He’s not going to stop.”

  “Who?”

  Mozell looked at her briefly and lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard. “Brunwal. He’s going to go after your friend again.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he just wanted to scare her, like he did with the others.”

  Tianne noticed he didn’t apologise for his part or say how many others there had been in the past. She wondered if he even knew how many people Brunwal had beaten and intimidated. “Is this because she embarrassed him?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” Mozell was sweating and he kept swallowing and rubbing his throat. It was only then Tianne realised he was afraid of Brunwal. “We’ve all tried to talk him out of it, but he just won’t listen. He’s obsessed with her.”

  Tianne finally released the Source but he didn’t notice. A horrible clammy feeling began to creep across her skin. “What is he planning to do?”

  Mozell finally looked at her. “He’s going to kill Wren.”

  Tianne was speechless. She had known that Brunwal wouldn’t let it go, but she hadn’t thought he would go that far. “What do we do?”

  “No one can stop it.” Mozell’s eyes were haunted, as if he was already watching it happen.

  “There must be something we can try.”

  “He wants us there, to keep you and anyone else off him. I’ve spoken to the others in the group. We’ve all agreed not to fight, if you’ll do the same.”

  Finally it all started to make sense. She should have seen it coming. “This is a trick. You’re trying to fool me. You want me to stand idle while you all beat my friend to death.”

  “Tianne, I swear by the Lady of Light and the Maker himself. May they both strike me down if I’m lying. This is not a trick.” He was pleading and the desperation in his eyes seemed real. She could see he was trapped. If he tried to leave the group he would become just another victim. But if he stayed he was protected by the person he feared the most.

  “I promise we will not fight for him,” repeated Mozell.

  Tianne still wasn’t convinced. Experience had taught her to be extremely cautious. “Why come to me?”

  “We’re both from Zecorria. I thought you might agree because of that. We should stick together.”

  “Do I look that stupid?”

  “Fine. I can’t be seen with Wren and your friend, Danoph, is weird. His eyes are creepy.”

  “You’re afraid,” said Tianne.

  “Of course I am. And you should be, too. Brunwal is out for blood.” He glanced out of the window again and moved to the door. “Remember what I’ve said. Leave it to Brunwal and Wren to sort it out. This isn’t going to end until one of them is dead. I don’t want to get caught in the middle and neither do you.”

  “I still don’t trust you,” she said as he opened the door.

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. Just keep an eye out. It’s going to happen soon.” He raced out of the door and Tianne heard his footsteps recede into the distance. The silence of the dormitory was normally soothing but standing alone in the empty room it began to feel eerie. As if she was standing inside a crypt.

  Tianne hurried outside and headed back towards her friends, but even when she was standing in bright sunlight the chill inside didn’t fade.

  CHAPTER 18

  Akosh walked into the church of the Maker and lazily made her way towards the front pews. Unlike everyone else who entered the vast cathedral, she was neither amazed by its beauty nor overwhelmed by its size. She felt no sudden awareness of a great benevolent spirit. In fact, quite the opposite. The whole place felt abandoned, as if she’d walked into an empty house that had been left to rot for years.

  There was no powerful spirit lurking in the rafters. No magnanimous presence bestowing gifts and answering the prayers of its faithful. Only a large, echoing building that would otherwise be a decaying shell, home only to pigeons and rats, if not for the deluded followers of a dead god.

  Part of her wanted to spit on the floor but she resisted the urge because it was childish. She had no fear of reprisal. She knew very well that the Maker had abandoned his followers as he had abandoned the world. No one had seen him in centuries and, despite their continued reverence and fear, she knew he had gone somewhere beyond the Veil.

  Akosh contemplated leaving something more permanent in her wake. Something baffling and, perhaps, slightly mystical for the priests to try and untangle over the next decade or two. On second thoughts she changed her mind. Such a mystery would only be twisted by the priests until it served their continuing mass delusion. They would use it as a form of proof to convince the people that the Maker still existed.

  There was a lot of empty space but Akosh chose to sit directly behind one of the parishioners. The man in front of her was whispering but she could hear him asking for strength and forgiveness.

  “He’s not listening,” she said in his ear. Akosh was delighted to see Habreel recoil and exclaim in surprise, his
voice echoing around the vast tomb-like hall. She cackled and slouched back on her pew, piling up some of the cushions behind her until it was reasonably comfortable. She stretched out and put one boot on the pew in front, smearing mud everywhere.

  “What are you doing here?” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

  “I’m here for one of our exhilarating meetings.”

  “At my office, not here.” Habreel was furious and swept her foot off the back of the pew onto the floor. Akosh smiled, pleased to have finally found something to get under his skin.

  Normally he was so in control of his emotions that nothing seemed to knock him off balance. It made their talks rather tedious. It was as if he’d written them down beforehand and spent time rehearsing his answers. “Go to my office. I will meet you there,” he hissed.

  “I’m not one of your idiot followers that you can order around.” Akosh refused to lower her voice even though she knew it was attracting stares from other people scattered around the church. Even the balding priest was glancing in their direction and looked ready to give them a stern telling off. Akosh winked at the priest and blew him a kiss, completely flustering the idiot. “We need to talk.”

  “I will not discuss our affairs or anything else in this church. I am here to pray.”

  He was going all stiff again and stubborn. It seemed as if a little reminder was necessary of who was in charge. “You know that I could easily kill you, even here in this holy place, and nothing would happen.” Akosh held her arms out wide towards the distant arched ceiling, daring the Maker to do something, anything. As usual, the only reply was a dead silence.

  “I know,” admitted Habreel.

  “Do not forget who holds the power in our relationship,” she said, grabbing him by the arm. Habreel slowly pulled it clear of her grip and she rolled her eyes. He was being boring and retreating into his shell again. The walls were going back up inside.

  With a dramatic yawn she walked out of the church and into the first tavern she found. The woman behind the bar gave her the first drink for free, but when Akosh turned on her dazzling smile she left the bottle.

  After an indeterminate amount of time, enough for her to sip her way through half the bottle and lose most of the feeling in her toes, Akosh stumbled out of the front door. The fingers on her right hand were tingling as well, which probably wasn’t a good sign, but she ignored it and waited for it to go away as she drifted through the city.

  Herakion was a dull place. The people were so stiff and defensive. You couldn’t say anything to one of them without someone mentioning the war. What followed was a strident protest about it not being their fault before someone inevitably apologised out of some misplaced sense of guilt.

  Everyone blamed them for their previous King going mad and starting the war. Most people in Zecorria said it had nothing to do with them, but somewhere down the line it seemed as if some of them had started to believe it, too.

  The city had once been rife with intrigue and political games as noble families backstabbed each other in a variety of inventive ways to gain favour with the King. When the Mad King had taken the throne from his father it had been even more interesting for a time and business for Akosh had thrived. No one knew if the King would grant them a boon or stab them to death on a whim. The whole city had been balanced on the edge of a blade. One false step and a person could topple off or split themselves in two. It had been delicious.

  Much had changed over time and Akosh had been slow to realise that her survival depended on remaining adaptable. It was the mortals who had taught her that with their fickle nature.

  A fad in clothing could become incredibly popular overnight. It might start with a powerful noble, or merely someone making a bold and outlandish statement. The following day every tailor and person in power would be scrambling to imitate the design. They needed to be noticed and wanted to feel like they mattered. They were all so desperate to feel valued that they scrambled around, with their noses in the dirt, instead of looking towards the horizon and tomorrow.

  Of course fads could disappear as quickly as they arrived. And quite often those chasing the trend managed to get the desired garment just as it went out of fashion. Then they looked like an idiot and the tailors were left with bolts of cloth that no one wanted to buy any more.

  So it had been with Akosh and who she used to be.

  She stared with disdain at the giant domes and towers of the old religions that dominated the city’s skyline. The Maker. The church of the Holy Light. Temples devoted to the Blessed Mother. They were all set in stone, unable to change or evolve over time. She would never be like them.

  Who she’d been at the beginning, when she’d first become aware, was a long way from who she was now. Interference was forbidden but they all bent the rules to ensure their survival.

  Rather depressingly, she felt quite sober again and with nothing else to do made her way to Habreel’s office. She waved at those downstairs as she went past and entered his office without knocking. On the surface he looked calm but she could see fire dancing behind his eyes.

  “What did you do?”

  Maybe she was still a little drunk after all. “Is this about interrupting your prayers?”

  Habreel was livid. “What did you do in Faulkner’s Quarry?”

  It took Akosh a moment to remember that was the name of the village where Yacob was from. She shrugged. “Only what we discussed.”

  “You killed over a hundred people.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone. The boy got too excited and exploded early, which often happens.”

  Habreel was in no mood for jokes. “Women and children died.”

  “I did you a favour. If only a few people had been killed, no one would have cared. But now, everyone is talking about it.”

  “This is not what we discussed. I cannot condone your actions.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “How was your meeting with the Regent?”

  Habreel opened his mouth to answer but then stopped himself. She saw that his rudimentary intelligence was starting to join up a few dots and he began to wonder. How did she know he’d met with the Regent? Had one of his people told her? Or did she have spies of her own in the palace?

  “The Regent is a moderate,” he said eventually, his tone calm. She could see he was studying her now, looking for clues and facial tics that might give away what she was thinking. “Even with other incidents abroad, he won’t take drastic action. But the number of dead at home cannot be ignored. The people of Zecorria are watching and they expect him to do something. I think he’ll agree to a national ban on Seekers.”

  “It sounds like we should be celebrating. Do you have anything to drink?”

  “It’s a good beginning,” he conceded, “but getting rid of the Seekers will not stop children being born with magic. We need to cut it off at the source.”

  “And I’ve told you, over and over again, it doesn’t run in family lines,” said Akosh. They’d had this conversation many times. Even if he drowned the parents of every child born with magic it wouldn’t help. Another child would be born with magic at some point. She’d told him magic was not connected to bloodlines, but he still doubted her.

  “Then we need a complete ban. Drive them all away. Anyone who has any magic needs to be exiled. Every single mage.”

  Some heat was coming back into his voice which caught her attention. “And where would you send them?” she asked.

  “I don’t care.”

  Akosh pursed her lips. “Tell me. Who did you lose during the war? Did one of the Battlemages blow up your dear wife and little children?”

  Habreel chuckled, but his eyes were cold. “That would make it nice and easy for you, wouldn’t it? That I’m doing all of this for revenge because of a personal slight. My poor dead wife and darling children.”

  “Well, aren’t you?” she asked. Habreel liked to think he was different from everyone else, but deep down she’d assumed
he was a simple man with base needs. Up to now she hadn’t cared about his motivation, but he’d piqued her interest.

  “No. I didn’t lose anyone. I don’t have any family. I’m doing this because it has to be done. I saw first-hand the destructive power of magic and how it taints everything that it touches. From the Mad King to the Queen of Yerskania. Magic is dangerous and unnatural. People should be afraid and want to distance themselves from it. You’ve said anyone can be born with magic. That it’s random and a quirk of birth.”

  “That’s true.”

  “That kind of destructive power should not be in the hands of anyone. It cannot be tamed and the Red Tower is untrustworthy. Why should they be allowed to make decisions that affect all of our lives? Why are they the only ones to govern mages from across the world? They have a private army that could rule every nation.”

  “You think they’re going to try and take over?” Akosh was losing interest. Insanity wasn’t nearly as interesting as people believed.

  “Think of it this way,” said Habreel. “You wouldn’t let a simpleton make decisions that could affect the lives of those around them. So it is with magic. A complete ban, in every country, is the only way to protect ourselves.”

  “Then we should continue with the plan. It’s too late to back out now anyway,” said Akosh. She expected Habreel to protest. Then she would have to talk him around on the subject until his morality allowed it, but instead he stayed silent and immobile, turning it over in his head.

  “What would you do next?” he finally asked. Akosh smiled to herself. He wasn’t so different after all.

  “There are plenty more teenagers on the cusp. All they need is a little push, and the right motivation,” she said, winking and gyrating her hips.

  “May the Maker forgive me,” he muttered. “Find another child and this time make sure a few more witnesses survive. It does no good if no one is alive to spread the stories.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Which reminds me, you still owe me payment for the last one.”