Mystic: A Book of Underrealm (24 page)

“Vivien . . .
help!
” Loren cried.
 

The Mystic’s gaze snapped towards her and took in Xain’s grasp on Annis, alongside Gem standing in fear. Her eyes glowed white, and an invisible force propelled her through the air towards them. She landed between Loren and Xain, her eyes to the wizard.

“What are you doing, Xain?”
 

“I am leaving this place, and you and your master besides. Do you think you can stop me?”

“That was not the agreement,” said Vivien. “And if you would break your word to Jordel, at least do it to stay here and help Wellmont live.”

Xain laughed at her even as he pushed Annis away. The girl stumbled and fell to the cobblestones, scrabbling away from Xain as he smiled at Vivien with cruelty. “I care nothing if your precious home is reduced to rubble. One person in this world concerns me, and every moment spent away increases his peril.”

“Jordel is your best chance to see your son again,” said Vivien. “You know this is true. Do not trade his safety for your pride.”

“Has Jordel told you all he told me?” said Xain. “I think not, for then you would know him for a madman more dangerous than any serpent on the High King’s Seat. Not even you would march behind him into madness.”

“Say what you wish, wizard, but you will not leave except by Jordel’s side.”

“You cannot stop me,” said Xain.

He sent a blast of fire screaming towards Vivien. Loren flung herself to the side for it seemed it might strike her as well.
 

Vivien dashed the bolt aside, and it dissipated into the air high above. Then she responded, flinging Xain into the wall where Loren had leaned but a moment ago.
 

Xain broke her hold. His glowing eyes brightened, and with a snap of his fingers the hem of Vivien’s cloak caught fire.

Her eyes lit with fear, but she quickly recovered, waving away the flames while at the same time striking Xain in the face with an invisible cudgel. Then, to Loren’s surprise, she leapt forwards and attacked the wizard with her fists. Once, twice, three times she struck in the face and stomach.

Xain nearly fell to the ground. Loren knew him for a poor fighter, and it seemed he had not expected the Mystic’s assault.

But Xain was not finished. With a cry, he seized Vivien’s shoulders, and from his hands crackled fingers of lightning, dancing across her body.
 

Vivien screamed, convulsed, and fell senseless to the ground when he shoved her. Loren waited, expecting Vivien to rise again, or at least to try. But the Mystic did not move.

Xain stared at her frozen form for a long, quiet moment. The street’s activity had ceased, with all eyes on the mage battle. But no one dared make a sound.
 

Satisfied, Xain turned from Vivien and strode for Annis.

“No!” Loren cried—
too late
.
 

Xain seized Annis’s arm and hauled her to standing. He started away north with the girl in his grip. When Loren shouted again, he turned and wrapped an arm around Annis’s throat, holding a hand to her face.

“Stop, girl! You have tried to betray me once and even set your Mystic bitch upon me. I will tolerate no more. The girl comes with me to the High King’s Seat, and there I will secure my son’s freedom. Only then will she be free to go and return your share if she wishes. I am not cruel, after all.”

“Let me go!” said Annis.
 

Xain tightened his arm around her throat to silence the girl.

Loren said, “You have gone mad, Xain. You would threaten the life of a child? Her parents love her no less than you love your own son.”

“Her parents are serpents who kill without blinking. How many others have they robbed of fathers, mothers, daughters, and sons? Taking their child is fair play. Even so I will not do it—unless you force me. If I suspect your pursuit, the girl dies and I keep the stones for myself.”

Loren stomped the ground hard enough to hurt her foot. A useless gesture, but she was at her end. “You will not leave again! You abandoned me on the King’s road and tried to leave again in Cabrus. I will not let you disappear a third time, nor do I believe you would kill her.”

“You doubt my resolve?”
 

“I doubt you are heartless.” Loren knew it was a risk, and yet she stepped closer. The wizard tensed but did not move. “You are callous and a terrible liar. And incredibly, stupidly stubborn, yes. But you would not harm a child. You are not a murderer, and I know it to be true. Please, Xain, end this madness.”

He slowly shook his head. “You know little, believe easily, and assume so very much. A dangerous brew. Did you take my tale for true when I told you what happened on the High King’s Seat? I did not stir up some mage’s duel, Loren of the family Nelda. The constables hunted me for murder.”

Loren felt her heart stop. “No. You said . . .”

“I told you a lie. And you believed it. If you still doubt my conviction—“

His eyes glowed as he whispered a word. Glowing white flames came to life on his finger. He pressed the finger to the side of Annis neck, and Loren heard the sizzle of flesh.
 

Annis screamed, her legs kicking. Still, Xain held her up with an arm wrapped around her throat.

“Stop!” screamed Loren. “Stop it, Xain!”

Xain withdrew his finger, and Annis fell whimpering into his arms. “If you follow me, I will not hesitate. Goodbye, Loren of the family Nelda, and may we never meet again.”

Xain backed slowly away, and Loren could only watch him go. He vanished around the corner.

The wizard was gone, and Annis with him.

twenty-eight

LOREN TURNED BACK, WANTING TO ask Gem for directions, hoping someone could tell her what to do in this impossible situation. Instead, she saw Vivien struggling to her feet, shaking her head and looking around.
 

“What happened?” Vivien’s words were slightly slurred. “Where did he go?”
 

“He vanished,” said Loren, her voice shaking. “And he has taken Annis.”

Vivien walked to Loren’s side and looked down the street to where the wizard had fled. “Nonsense. Even a firemage as powerful as Xain cannot disappear. That magic does not exist, and that means we can find him.”

“But how? He holds Annis hostage. He said if he catches me following him, he will kill her.”

Vivien’s lips pursed, as though she had bitten into a lemon. “And do you believe him?”

Loren nodded. “He pressed a finger of fire into her neck. She screamed as I have never heard her.”

“Still, we may take him unawares. Sky above, where is Jordel?”

“Loren!” Gem ran up to them, seizing Loren’s arms he shook her. Small as he was, it had little effect. “Loren, we must save her. The wizard has gone mad.”

“We will,” said Loren, resting a calming hand on his shoulder. “I promise. I will not rest until we do.”

Gem’s lip trembled, and for a moment she feared the boy might cry. After a moment, he steeled himself and nodded.

“Loren,” Vivien said. “
Where is Jordel?
”

“I know not. We lost him in the battle.”

“Then we should return to your inn. He will look for us there now that the fighting is done. Jordel has pursued the wizard across a kingdom. He will know best how to find him again.”

“And Annis as well,” said Loren, glaring. “I doubt your friends in the family Yerrin would be pleased if she were harmed or remained in Xain’s care.”

“Do not lecture
me
on the family Yerrin,” hissed Vivien. “We have enjoyed a long friendship while you have only stirred their ire since they met you. I heard of your deeds in Cabrus, girl. Your inn. Now.”

She stalked off, leaving Loren little choice but to follow. She wanted Vivien’s company even less than Xain’s, but their belongings remained at the inn. And without Jordel’s help, how could she hope to find Annis? So Loren fell into step with Gem beside her.

The city bustled with a hurried melancholy as workers bore torches from building to building, hoping to repair what damage they could. Many homes would surely have to be torn down and rebuilt. Amidst so many soot-covered faces, shining in torchlight and aimlessly wandering, Loren felt a bottomless sorrow.
 

At last, they reached the inn, where they found many people seated at tables around the common room. The innkeeper bustled by but stopped when Vivien seized her arm.

“I will have a bath,” Vivien snapped. “For while you cowered in fear, I fought to defend your home. Make it fast, and if you think I will pay you are mistaken.”

Her words were so silky and venomous that the innkeeper herself ran red faced to prepare a tub. Vivien turned and motioned to someone behind Loren. A figure in a red cloak appeared from nowhere—one of the other Mystics from Jordel’s company.
 

“Find our captain. He may be in the south where the fires burnt or mayhap not. But he must come here as quickly as he can, for much has happened.”

The Mystic nodded and retreated through the front door. The innkeeper reappeared with several nervous glances at Vivien.
 

She looked to Loren a final time. “If Jordel comes, fetch me immediately. Wait here in the meantime, and do not eat. The shock will not have worn off yet, and you might lose anything you manage to swallow.”

With a whirl of her cloak, Vivien retreated into the back, leaving Loren and Gem in the common room.
 

“So much for her gratitude,” Gem grumbled. “She was more courteous when she wanted Xain to help in the city’s defense.”

“Shush,” said Loren. “Let us take a seat, or I will collapse.”

They looked but could not easily find a seat; patrons sat at all the tables, each looking as weary and soot blackened as Loren herself. It seemed as though everyone present only wanted to lose themselves in wine and ale until the following morrow or the next Dorsean attack—whichever came first. Not a single table was empty.

Loren approached a table with six chairs, but sat by only two men. One wore a smudged blue vest and had arms like thick branches covered with scars. Around his forehead was tied a long blue cloth stained with sweat and something darker—blood or wine, Loren could not be sure. By his side sat a thinner, sharper man in a trim purple coat, his fingers slim and dexterous, eyes glinting in firelight.

“May we take a seat?” said Loren, too tired for proper manners.

“Always,” said the thinner man, “especially for eyes like those.”

Another time Loren might have answered that, but now she was too weary. She slumped into a seat with Gem beside her. When a server came, she ordered a flagon of wine and a cup.

“Two cups,” said Gem. “I have earned one today, I think.”

Loren gave him a long look but could find no heart to refuse him. “Two cups,” she said, and reached for her coin.

“I won’t hear of it,” said the slim man. “You look as though you have been trampled by a horse.” His hand flashed into his coat, and he handed the server a few silver pennies.

Loren nodded her gratitude. No words were spoken until the wine’s arrival. Loren and Gem poured. She drank deep, and Gem tried to follow, but his mouth twisted with the sour taste, and he decided to sip more slowly. The large man in the blue vest seemed content to ignore them. His slim companion, however, studied them with glittering eyes.

“City dwellers, are you?” Though he spoke to them both, his eyes stayed on Loren. “And friends of a Mystic, or so I guess the woman in the red cloak to be.”

“I would not use the word friend,” said Loren.
 

“Smarter than you seem, then,” said the man. “As smart as your eyes are entrancing.”

“Leave off,” said the other man, giving the thinner man a dirty look.

“Don’t be silly.” The thin man laughed. “Words are harmless.”

“Not with you.” The big man turned to Loren. “Those are wisest who say the least to this one. His words hold a greater power than most.”

Loren thought of Xain. She looked at the thin man with renewed interest. “Are you a . . .” She did not know how to ask—was it considered rude?

“A what, lovely?” The man’s smile widened. “Only say the word.”

“A firemage,” whispered Loren.

He tilted his head forward, looking at her from under his brows. “Not as far as anyone on the south wall knows.” He snapped his fingers, and a few small sparks sprang forth. For a moment, Loren saw the glow of white in his eyes. “But then, things in the nine kingdoms are not always what they seem.”

“Is that all you can do?” said Gem scornfully. “We know a firemage who could light the whole city ablaze if he wished.”

The wizard’s look soured as he glared at Gem. “Then we must count ourselves lucky the Dorseans have not hired him.”

“You are sellswords, then?” said Loren. “I had not thought Wellmont hired its own company.”

“We are, after a fashion,” said the wizard. “We happened to be here when the Dorseans arrived. The mayor’s call to arms promised pay without contract to any man who would lift a sword on the wall. I have lifted many by now, and the coin is not half bad. The city’s coffers have grown fat with many years of peace and plenty.”

“But why not tell them of your gift?” said Gem. “I am sure they would pay better for a proper wizard.”

The man’s eyes hardened, and though the smile never left his lips it became something twisted. “Be not so hasty to call magic a gift, boy. Nor is it always wise for others to know you command it, for it raises a certain . . . expectation that many are unable to fulfill.”

Loren thought again of Xain, of the look in his eyes as he dragged Annis away. Suddenly, she did not feel so kindly towards the wizard before her, and she dropped her eyes to the wine cup.

“But I am mercenary by trade, and there is no doubt it is a hard life.” Again the wizard turned to Loren. He leaned forwards earnestly to fold his hands on the table before her. “We grow lonely, marching back and forth across the nine lands. Who knows whence may come the bolt to end our lives? Who knows which swordsman will at last plant his blade in my—“

His words cut off abruptly as his muscled companion seized his arm and hauled him up.