Standing out from the otherwise drab world while his vision was shifted, Therec quickly spotted several people with the faint glow of items with tiny shreds of magic or even fainter auras around themselves. These were people who had learned magic, whether to a small or large degree he could not be sure by sight. They might be dropouts from the school of magic or gifted untrained. He could care less what they might be…everyone here was uneducated and beneath him.
Past the people, Therec could see another faint aura that covered much of the city’s wall. He had seen this on the walls near where the ground had collapsed on the north end, though he had not spent any appreciable time studying it. The magic was weak with age, but still provided a small degree of additional protection for the walls. Likely, the magisters had been too lazy to refresh the spell over the years and now did not have the numbers needed to repair it. Had they done their duties, Therec would have been far less concerned about an attack by Altis. The spell was nearly identical to the well-preserved one on Altis’ walls.
Therec looked over the wall for anything that stood out and saw little that drew his eye. The faint glow covered every block of the walls, with some glowing more brightly than others where the magic had faded somewhat less. The only thing that did not glow was the sculpture, which did not surprise him—few sculptors would have had access to magic like that used on the walls themselves.
Just as Therec was ready to turn away from the wall and search elsewhere for Dorus, he stopped and gave the sculpture a second look. Something about it did not quite look right in his blurry vision. It was subtle, but he caught something that felt out of place. In his years of training, an appreciation for one’s instincts became second nature, especially when dealing with magic.
Against the dim blue glow of the wall, faint lines scattered around where the non-magical branches of the stone tree hid the glow from him. In one particular area, the glow was not only hidden, but seemed to be entirely washed out, as though he were looking at it through a piece of cloth. It was a faint difference, but unlike the other branches of the tree, that one did not blur, but was a distinct smooth line of non-glowing stone.
Therec blinked back to his normal sight, keeping his eyes on the spot he had seen. With regular vision, there was nothing remarkable about that part of the tree, other than the difficulty one would have reaching the spot. It would likely take a rope hung from the top of the battlements to get anywhere near it.
Looking around in his normal sight, Therec saw he was surrounded. Soldiers had circled him, all with weapons drawn. The citizens that had been here and there in the plaza were retreating to its edges, watching the soldiers nervously.
“I thought you might come here,” came Dorus’s voice behind Therec. “I swore I would protect this from anyone who would come to take it from the city. The king never believed that you were a spy, but I knew it from the start. You just proved everything I feared, Turessian.”
Turning slowly, Therec faced Dorus across a short section of the plaza. The older man was sweating badly, his nervousness apparent in every movement from his fidgeting to the furtive glances he made almost constantly. He was afraid, but whether it was from fear of Therec or something more, Therec could not be sure. Therec would use that, regardless of its source.
“Magister Dorus, you are walking a dangerous line right now. I recommend you back down and call off these men.”
“Tell me why they sent you here, Therec. Give me some reason to think the king wasn’t entirely misled.”
Therec glanced to either side, noting how much space the soldiers would need to cover to reach him. They were watching him and Dorus like hawks, ready to act when they knew for certain what they should do. Given the city still had no idea their king was dead, Therec had to tread carefully. If the soldiers had any doubts, they would back Dorus. All he had going for him was the king’s public declaration that Therec was an ally and ambassador.
“You know why I am here, Dorus,” Therec answered, trying not to look away from the man again. “Are you accusing me of something?”
The faint creak of armor made Therec’s chest tighten nervously, but he had to remain calm or Dorus would have the upper hand. Being a local citizen, these soldiers would trust Dorus far more. It would take great care to keep them from moving on him.
Therec checked his peripheral vision and counted nearly a dozen soldiers. He could kill two or three with magic, but the rest could easily butcher or restrain him before he could do much more than that.
“I am accusing you of working against this city and its king to sabotage our defenses on behalf of the army your own people now lead!” Dorus shouted, clearly trying to win over the soldiers or bystanders. “As lord of this city’s military—”
“Prove your claim,” said Therec, cutting off Dorus’s proclamation. He touched the scroll case in his belt and pushed down a smile that tried to work its way onto his lips. “I have heard no such thing…have any of you soldiers heard the king relinquished control over this own army? My understanding is that Dorus was given the authority to deliver orders sent from the king and nothing more.”
Dorus blinked and looked around nervously as the soldiers stared at him expectantly. Thus far, Therec and Dorus had given all of their commands to the city and its people via declarations signed with the king’s signet. Neither had claimed to have any authority, making Dorus’s statement a dangerous one among the soldiers, all of whom had sworn an oath to serve the king to the moment of their deaths.
“I have…” Dorus started to say, patting his belt. Glancing down, he went wide-eyed and he began searching the plaza. “I…I am…I had…”
“By the authority of your king,” began Therec, holding up his own scroll signed with the king’s seal, “I order this man arrested as a traitor to the crown. The king will decide his fate back at the keep, not in a public plaza. I have been granted the right to act as needed within the walls of this city to aid the king. Seize him.”
Dorus shook with anger and fear as he backed away from Therec while the soldiers advanced on him.
“Surrender and the king may go easier on you, Magister,” offered Therec, no longer bothering to hide his smile. “Do right by your order and go with these fine men peacefully.”
Clenching his jaw and going abruptly calm, Dorus straightened his shoulders. “I swore that I would defend this city against invaders,” he told Therec, putting a hand toward the nearest soldier, who came to a sharp stop as though he had run into a brick wall. “For thirty years, I have been a magister of Lantonne. By right of my station and the laws the king has ordained, I demand a trial by combat against my accuser.”
The remaining soldiers stopped, clearly disappointed. The right to trial by combat was rarely exercised and was often considered an old custom which had no place in modern law. It was normally only used by people with a minor dispute they felt did not require the involvement of the king’s laws. To Therec’s memory, he had read of no magister—or magic-user of any station—who had requested a trial by combat in a generation.
“I have familiarized myself only with the existence of the laws regarding such a request,” Therec told the assembled soldiers, looking around for someone who appeared ready to explain. “How does Lantonne address such requests? Is a time and place chosen…champions…witnesses?”
One of the soldiers finally spoke up. “The accuser must either demand trial in front of the king, if the king is willing to act as witness, or they must accept the challenge. The combat’s result may not exceed the punishment that a trial would have exacted.”
“Treason is a death sentence,” Dorus noted, flicking his coat back out of his way. Smirking, he added,“Either have me tried in public before the king or you must fight me to the death.”
“What are our limitations?”
“There are none, Turessian. We are limited by our own capabilities.”
The soldiers moved almost in unison, backing away from both men. They formed a circle around the area, ensuring neither could flee, but made no effort to approach Dorus.
“Very well,” replied Therec, slipping off his gloves and putting them in his belt. He slid down his hood, inwardly amused as he saw the distant civilians’ eyes across the plaza go straight to his tattoos. “I accept your request of trial by combat. When should we…?”
Therec’s question was cut short as Dorus flung a hand in his direction, engulfing the area in flames. He had just an instant to react, calling on the spirits of the dead to deflect the magical fire. The flames parted, but his fine new clothing smoked as the heat dissipated.
From childhood, Therec had trained not just to fulfill the laws of Turess but to be ready for battle in any form it might appear. More often than not among the clans of Turessi, that meant fighting other magic-users and leading his clan into battle. His heart maintained its steady beat as he began pulling one intricate spell after another through the spirit realm, hurling them at Dorus as fast as he could manage.
The two men stood their ground, each skillfully deflecting one spell after another and creating brief flashes of light or smoke every few seconds. For every three or four that were dismissed harmlessly, one spell would nearly hit its mark, whether it was Dorus or Therec. Blue-white flames, shards of ice like razors, explosions of stone from the plaza ground, and even blinding flashes of lightning burst around Therec, tearing at his jacket and cutting deeply at his face, torso, and arms.
Around Dorus, the magical effects of Therec’s spells were less dramatic but no less dangerous. Clouds of flickering skeletal hands blew away, pops of white light appeared and vanished, and in the time it took Dorus to shrug off some of the spells, his skin would briefly begin to blister or burn.
Then, Therec got his opportunity. He recognized the spell Dorus was piecing together: It was deadly, intended to tear a foe apart and break through their attempts to defend against magical attacks. It was difficult to cast, giving Therec the advantage of speed.
Therec seized the moment and formed one of his simplest spells, using the faintest shred of magic from the spirits to knock the man over backwards. The impact threw off Dorus’s concentration and disrupted his spell.
Raising one hand, Therec reached out for the spirits of the dead and pulled as much power as he could muster, eliciting a shriek of a hundred long-dead ancestors as the spell began to form. He took what was offered from the more vengeful spirits, the whispering voices that wanted more to join them. This he poured into the physical world, lowering his arm and pointing his finger at Dorus.
The magic was invisible but effective. When the spell hit the magister, the man went rigid, then gasped and fell limply to the ground. Softly, he exhaled and went still.
“A traitor, as I said,” Therec told the soldiers as he pulled his gloves back on. “The king will issue a statement about this after I have spoken with him. Dispose of the body as you would any other soldier of Altis.”
Therec began walking away, his feet unsteady from the exhaustion that came with channeling magic. He felt dizzy but exhilarated from the challenge. Much longer and Dorus would have beaten him by sheer endurance. The man had been far stronger than he had expected.
Smiling to himself, Therec made his way back toward the city’s keep.
He had a statement from the king to write, granting him all of the duties Dorus had been given in the king’s passing.
*
Therec waited nearly a week before deciding to act on the knowledge that Dorus had been hiding something in the plaza. He gave it time for the soldiers and commoners to stop gossiping about the battle, which had left much of the plaza burned and broken and sent at least one soldier to the infirmary. Once things calmed and Therec’s contacts within the city were hearing nothing further about him, he decided it was time to investigate.
The days had mostly been passing slowly as Therec kept an eye on Ilarra, making sure she did not slip from the keep and cause trouble. He made it a point to be overly polite to her each day, attending meals with her and her guards, but the girl still unnerved him.
Arlind had not helped Therec in dealing with Ilarra. The woman had gone on a lengthy rant about the girl being unnatural or some such. Therec had sent her away in frustration, not really sure what to make of the magister’s ramblings. He had trusted her to deduce more about Ilarra, but Arlind had been exceedingly useless in that matter.