Broken by Magic: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Dragon Gate Book 3), page 29
Fury blazed in her eyes.
“It’ll be all right,” Jadora said from the corridor, though her tone wasn’t that convincing.
Rivlen snarled and stomped back into the room. Tezi stepped out of the way, in case she was in the mood to lash out at the nearest person.
“This place is so frustrating,” Rivlen said, hand clenched around the hilt of her sword. “I’m not used to being… ineffective.”
“You should try knitting,” Dr. Fret said. “It’s calming.”
Rivlen gave her a scathing look.
“We’re used to being ineffective against mages.” Tinder had joined Fret, resting a protective hand on her shoulder.
“I’m not,” Rivlen said. “It’s aggravating.”
“Yes,” Fret said blandly.
Rivlen’s gaze fell on the battle-axe. “I should have taken that. They wouldn’t be able to knock down my barrier and push me around then.”
Tezi shifted uneasily. Rivlen looked like she was contemplating grabbing it and running after Jadora and Zethron. Tezi suspected the powerful mages here had the power to thwart her even if Rivlen had the weapon, and she might end up losing it.
Jak stepped up to Tezi’s side and faced Rivlen. “If Mother figures out the secret to working dragon steel, maybe we’ll all be able to have weapons like that.”
“I doubt the secret is in the public library.”
Jak shrugged. “Libraries are full of secrets and long-forgotten knowledge for those who take the time to look.”
“We’ll see,” Rivlen grumbled and stalked into another room.
“Thanks,” Tezi told Jak, glad he’d stood beside her. She didn’t think Rivlen would steal her axe, but she didn’t know the captain that well yet. “I suppose it’s not right to feel pleased that our mages are getting a glimpse of what it feels like to be one of us.” Reminded that Jak was learning how to use magic, Tezi almost corrected herself, but he’d been normal for most of his life, so he would understand.
“Maybe not pleased,” he said, “but I can’t help but think they all might be fairer if they understood what it was like to be helpless as someone shoved them to their knees and stabbed mental daggers into their brains.”
“The world—our world—would be better off if nobody had magic.”
“Or if everybody had it. The inequality is the problem. And that there are few repercussions for bad behavior for them.” Jak gazed at her axe and opened his mouth to speak, but he must have thought better of it. He patted her on the shoulder and went to his room.
In a cell under the arena, Malek lay in a bunk and reviewed the notes that Rivlen had made for him after observing the creatures. He appreciated her effort. Perhaps he should have been studying the battles himself, but he’d wanted to spend his time training Jak and sparring with Rivlen and the others.
He didn’t trust Etcher Yervaa to let them go. Perhaps he’d been a fool to give his word to her, to agree to fight these battles. He liked to believe that others he met in his travels would be honorable, but sadly, even in his own world, that wasn’t always the case.
With luck, Jadora would learn the secret of working dragon steel on her own, and they wouldn’t be reliant on Yervaa to give it to them. To keep her word.
Malek wished he could communicate telepathically with Jadora from down here and find out if Zethron had returned to take her to a library—and if she’d had time yet to find anything. But it hadn’t been Yervaa blocking Malek’s ability to communicate with the outside world. The walls themselves were magically insulated so he couldn’t reach out to anyone in his party.
Laughter came from a few cells over, the same men who’d been playing games when Malek had snooped around several nights ago. Someone was also grunting, enjoying a female prize that had been brought to him for his victory in the arena that day. A willing prize or an unwilling one? Malek didn’t know, though it sounded like she was praising him rather than crying out and begging to escape, so hopefully the former.
He thought about using his magic to escape from his cell and snoop around more, perhaps try to ascertain which animals were being prepared for the next day. There were levers in the corridor that controlled the barriers that locked the gladiators in, and he could easily pull one with his mind. He was here because he’d permitted his guards to place him here, not because he was helpless. But… he couldn’t help but worry about the fate of his comrades if he didn’t play this game as the rulers wished.
The corridor grew darker, the sounds fading as men went to sleep.
Malek set aside the notes and was about to attempt sleep as well when he sensed someone powerful approaching. Powerful and familiar. Etcher Yervaa.
This time, two powerful mages accompanied her. Bodyguards? All three of them stopped in front of his cell, with Yervaa in the center, the same white nimbus obscuring her features under her hood.
Her bodyguards—if they were that—were women. They wore fancier tunics than most people in the city, with lace along the hems. Their sandals were white and bejeweled.
The barrier to Malek’s cell disappeared, and the ruler waved the bodyguards inside.
Malek sat up, putting his back to the wall, though he didn’t get out of his bunk. He draped an arm over his knee as he watched them. He doubted it was typical for the rulers to visit their gladiators on the eve of matches.
It is not, Yervaa spoke into his mind, somehow reading his thoughts through his mental barriers.
What makes me special?
The guards say you’ve not put in your kerzor.
Was that the disc?
I haven’t put on the leather loincloth either, he replied.
You must do so before your first battle tomorrow, and I must insist that you insert the kerzor now.
Is that so?
You are unfamiliar with its operation?
I am. And you were vague about what exactly it does. I’m not in the habit of inserting things into my body if I don’t know what they do. Malek didn’t insert things into his body even if he knew what they did. That disc didn’t look like it was designed to come back out again once it went in. If it’s a tracking device, you don’t need to worry. We’ve discussed this. I’ve promised to fight for you, and I will.
Naturally, but you’ve an advantage over the animals now, and we can’t allow that.
What advantage? Malek tried to see her face, but the nimbus obscured her features as much as the shadow of the hood.
Your magic, of course. You are not the equal of our rulers or our stronger mages, but you would have an advantage over the creatures you will fight.
Malek started to protest, but he paused as he had the unsettling realization that he hadn’t seen any of the gladiators thus far employ magic on their foes. They’d all worn the discs at their temples, something he’d assumed all citizens without magic were given, to walk through the magical barrier and perhaps do other magical tasks they wouldn’t otherwise have been able to. But as Yervaa stared expectantly at him, the second half of his realization slammed home with a thunk, like a key turning in a lock.
What if it wasn’t that the discs granted power to the people but took power away?
That is correct. Yervaa sounded amused. Magic is ubiquitous among our people—I was surprised to hear that many of your party are sense-dead and without any ability to call upon it.
All of your people have magic?
All are born with it, yes. After a great war, in which our people almost destroyed ourselves and our world, we developed the kerzor and applied them to those on the losing side so that a second such war would not come. We could not risk annihilating our entire species and letting the dragons strike while we were weakened.
How long ago was that? Malek swung his legs slowly to the floor, debating if he could attack the bodyguards and escape. If he’d known that jamming a device that would steal his power into his brain was part of the deal, he wouldn’t have agreed to any of this.
Thousands of years ago. Those born to descendants of the losing side in that war receive the kerzor as soon as they start to develop power.
Because their ancestors, countless generations ago, started a war with your ancestors, the children are punished?
They are not punished. They are simply placed into the servant class where they can pose no threat. You have something similar on your world, do you not? Classes of those with power and those without?
Yes, but it’s based on whether a person is born with power or not. Assuming they were born into the right place. As Malek well knew, magic users who were born on the ground and not found in time to be integrated into mage society in the sky cities were killed. Maybe something like these kerzor would be a more humane way of dealing with wild ones, but there was no way he would ask for some of the devices to take back to his world. The very idea of a mage having his power removed terrified him. The idea of losing his power terrified him.
And yet, it is the only way you will be permitted to fight in the arena. Yervaa waved to her two comrades, and they stepped closer to him.
One held open her palm, revealing one of the discs, the sharp needle pointing upward.
Malek faced them in a fighting stance, funneling as much power as he could summon into a protective barrier. Then I will not fight. We will have to negotiate a different trade agreement.
Oh, I don’t think so. You’ve whetted my appetite, and I look forward to seeing you in battle. She flicked her hand, and tremendous power ripped away Malek’s barrier, as if he were some weak apprentice barely capable of making one.
He gasped at the pain of having it wrenched away, but that didn’t keep him from springing to the side as the women approached. He grabbed his weapons belt, snatching his sword free, and spun to attack them.
But Etcher Yervaa wrapped him in power far greater than anything he’d ever experienced. It reminded him of the dragon he’d faced in battle, but the dragon hadn’t tried to hold him. It had only wanted to slay and eat him.
I don’t want to eat you. Yervaa chuckled into his mind as the two women approached, one to either side, one raising the kerzor toward his temple. Only enjoy watching you fight. Though perhaps if you win your first match and are rewarded female companionship, you’ll call for me. Few presume to do so, though I do enjoy the feel of a muscular gladiator between my legs. I sense you are not one to be daunted by a powerful woman.
Malek prodded at the magical grip that immobilized his every muscle, calming himself with a meditative exercise that let him draw upon even more power. One more time, he attempted to weave a barrier around himself, to free himself from the smothering grip. But Yervaa merely watched and seemed to smile under that hood. Even Uthari was not this strong, and for the first time in decades, Malek was powerless in the face of an enemy.
He couldn’t budge as the two women reached up, one tilting his head so the other could see his temple and easily reach it. Their fingers were cool and methodical.
Though Malek kept trying to attack the magical grip from different angles and using different techniques, he couldn’t thwart it. The needle touched his temple, a faint, cool prick. With a flick of power, the woman drove it through his skin, his muscle, and his skull. Pain lanced into his brain.
He clenched his jaw, refusing to cry out as he glared at Yervaa.
I do like a man who can take a little pain. She chuckled again, strolling closer to him as her bodyguards stepped back. That will serve you well tomorrow.
Malek bared his teeth at her, inasmuch as he could move his lips to do so. Even his face was mashed down under her power.
Don’t be foolish and attempt to remove the kerzor, Yervaa warned, resting a hand on his chest. Even now, its tendrils are growing into your brain, attaching to the matter that allows one to summon magic and blocking the conduits. If you rip out the kerzor, you will die from the hemorrhaging it will cause.
She showed him an image of another gladiator, someone else who’d been a strong mage from another world and who’d hoped to use his power in the arena. He tore out his kerzor, long strands of fine wire coming out with brain matter attached to them, and he dropped to the floor, convulsing and screaming in pain until he died.
This isn’t permanent, Malek thought, wincing because he didn’t boom the words telepathically into her mind as he wanted. He wasn’t able to project them at all. It can’t be. How do you expect me to battle dragons without my power?
You need to survive the arena before you worry about that. Let’s see if you manage. And see if you earn any rewards.
Rewards such as having the kerzor removed?
That is not possible. She caressed his chest, but Malek barely felt it.
He was too busy staring at her, his brain refusing to accept what she was suggesting. Had she truly permanently taken away his power? That couldn’t be possible. There had to be a way to remove these things. If nothing else, a healer on his own world would be able to do it.
Good luck with your battle tomorrow. Yervaa patted his chest and walked out, the other women already waiting in the corridor. I hope you’ll suitably entertain my people and that you’ll survive.
You’ll still let my comrades go, right? No matter how I fare. We have a deal.
She gazed back at him. We’ll see.
Damn it. He’d been a fool. She had no honor.
They raised the barrier again and walked away, but several more minutes passed before the magical grip released him.
The first thing he did when he could was reach up to touch the disc embedded in his temple. It hurt, the skin throbbing all around it as warm blood dripped down the side of his face. Malek could do nothing to soothe the pain, to heal the puncture. He envisioned the tendrils she’d shown him, stretching into his brain, anchored there forevermore.
Though he found he could get his nail under the disc and lift the edge from his skin, he was afraid to pull it out, afraid that she’d shown him the truth, that he would die if he yanked it free. The idea of being enslaved by this device, his magic forever robbed from him, was too despicable to imagine enduring, but he wouldn’t do anything rash until he’d had a chance to study the devices more.
Whenever that would be. He wished he’d requested that Jadora research them in the library. Little had he known the discs would be more pertinent to him than dragon steel.
But he couldn’t speak telepathically to her to make the request, not to her and not to anyone. It wouldn’t have mattered if the walls were insulated or not.
Malek slumped, gripping his knees. It felt as if every ounce of energy had been drained from his body.
He tried to conjure a barrier to protect himself. Nothing happened. He tried to use his mind to move a piece of fruit on the table. Nothing happened. He couldn’t feel that part of him that he’d been aware of since his youngest days, the part that made him a formidable foe, that made him zidarr.
And tomorrow, he would have to fight a battle against a powerful magical creature. Before, he had believed in his heart that he would win these battles. Now… Now he feared he would die as quickly as most of the other men who faced the animals. With a crowd watching on, cheering as his blood was spilled.
16
The green stone in Sorath’s pocket buzzed against his thigh. This was the third night since he’d received it, via jaguar delivery service, and it was the first time it had done anything.
He stepped into the shadows of one of the tents. With everyone except the guards standing watch near the portal asleep, Sorath didn’t worry about anyone hearing the buzz, but he didn’t know what kind of magical aura it was giving off. During the previous two days, he’d worried that an observant mage would ask him why his pocket was oozing magic. But with so many people using magical tools and carrying weapons around, nobody had seemed to notice it.
The stone buzzed again. Insistently.
After making sure nobody could see him, he drew it out. Though it glowed in his hand, it apparently wasn’t like a dome-jir, for nothing formed in the air above it, nor did a message of any kind come through. He did, however, get the urge to take it for a walk in the woods. Maybe the druid was out there waiting to chat with him.
Given that Night Wrath might also be waiting in the jungle for him, Sorath knew better than to go out alone. It was too bad Uthari had destroyed the stealth device Vinjo had given him. Sorath should never have taken such a valuable tool with him to the king’s yacht.
Sorath picked his way past sleeping mercenaries to Ferroki’s blanket and nudged her shoulder.
“I need you,” he whispered when her eyes opened.
“Because there’s trouble?” she muttered sleepily. “Or because you’re having randy urges?”
“Which one would be most likely to get you out of bed?”
Bed was an optimistic term for the roll-up mat and blanket she was sleeping on.
“I’d have to think about it.”
“Bring your weapons.”
“I guess that answers my question.” Ferroki sighed, grabbed her weapons belt, scraped her fingers through her short black hair, and rose to follow him out of camp.
“If we survive the trouble,” Sorath said, “I’m open to randiness.”
“You know how to get a woman excited.”
They’d only taken a few steps into the jungle when a twig snapped ahead of them. Sorath paused.
Thorn Company was on patrol tonight, but since Night Wrath had shown up, Uthari’s mages had been joining them, so he didn’t know who to expect.
Sergeant Words, Corporal Basher, and two dour-faced mages in red uniforms stepped out of the trees, one conjuring a light.
“Where are you going, Colonel?” a mage asked. “There’s a zidarr after you.”
“I know. We’re not going far.” Sorath clasped Ferroki’s hand. “I have… urges.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
Basher snickered around a lit cigar dangling from her lips. “I knew it.”
The mages frowned at them. “You can have urges in camp.”
“It’s crowded in camp. We’re not young randy privates. We like our privacy.”
