Cold Magics (60 page)

“For what?” demanded the woman. “You think you can get us out of here?”

“I don’t know,” said Thomas. “I’ll try when I wake up.”

***

The chamber door was shoved open hard and banged off the stone wall, waking him. Even as Thomas was blinking the sleep from his eyes, four men came at him. One had a torch in one hand and a sword that he drew and pointed at Thomas’s chest. The other three didn’t have weapons on them at all, probably to keep the prisoners from grabbing them. Two of the men grabbed his arms and the third knelt to undo his manacle. Thomas took the moment to look over the room by the torchlight.

It was pretty much as Ralph had described it—large and stone. It had been dug out but not finished, suggesting a mine rather than a cellar or a dungeon. The hole in the middle had a ragged look, as if the ground beneath had fallen away. Thomas tried to get a glimpse down into the depths but could see nothing. The door was set on a wooden frame, spiked into the wall.

The man finished with his manacle and the others hauled him away, two gripping tightly on his arms and the third pushing the tip of the sword into his back, the point pricking into his flesh. They went out the door—thick wood, with fittings for a bar to hold it shut, Thomas saw—and down a black corridor until they once more reached the room with the candles in their niches and the chair sitting in the middle of the floor. The one man was setting up his table again, the other, older one was standing beside the empty chair in the middle of the room, waiting.

They thrust Thomas into the chair and quickly bound him hand and foot. Thomas didn’t resist. Instead, he looked at the man who would drain the life out of him. “So, who are you?”

The man started at Thomas’s words. The four men tying Thomas to the chair stopped and waited, probably for instructions to knock Thomas out cold. Thomas waited as well. Finally the man said, “I am Alfred Pinner. And you?”

“Thomas Flarety. And your friend?”

Alfred looked at the other man, who was watching speculatively. “I do not know his name,” he said. “Lord Richard brought him and the others, and they have not seen fit to tell me.”

“And do you know what he’s doing?” said Thomas. The guards seemed satisfied they weren’t needed, and resumed tying Thomas to the chair. He did his best to ignore them.

“I do,” said Alfred.

“And you don’t mind that he’s casting fire into the rods, and that his troops will use them to burn down villages and kill women and children?”

The man turned away and didn’t answer.

“Stop helping him,” suggested Thomas. He paused for effect. “But if you had courage or morals, you’d have done that some time ago.”

Several of the soldiers laughed at that, and Thomas saw the man at the table smile.
So they all understand me. That might be useful.

“Why are you helping them?” Thomas asked. “Money? Power? Has Lord Richard promised you a village of your own?”

“Lord Richard has promised my wife and children will not be killed if I do as they say.”

“Ah,” said Thomas. “And you get to see them regularly, do you?”

The soldiers finished tying him and stepped away.

“Well?” said Thomas. “Do you? Because if not, they’re probably already dead and he’s using you for a dupe.”

“They’re not dead,” said Alfred, putting his hand on Thomas’s chest.

“Keep believing that,” said Thomas. “Maybe it will help you sleep at night as you think about the other children you helped kill.”

“Be silent,” said Alfred.

“Why?” said Thomas. “Truth hurt?”

Alfred said nothing more. Thomas looked at his chest and could see the magic seeping from his body up the other man’s arm. Alfred reached out and put his hand on the other man’s shoulder, letting the magic flow into him. The magician at the table began chanting again, and Thomas could see his magic flowing into the stone rod. It was glowing brighter now, and Thomas could feel his strength draining as his power flowed out.

“You know that when Lord Henry and his troops find you, they’re going to kill you,” said Thomas. “All of you.”

Alfred didn’t reply, so Thomas turned his attention to the man at the table. “How about you? Where did you learn to do that?” The man ignored him and kept up his chanting. Thomas tried again. “Did you have a book that taught you how to make the rods? Or was that natural? And where did you learn to throw the fire and the fog? Or did you steal those from someone else?”

Alfred broke his grip on them both. He was sweating and pale and looked exhausted. Thomas felt the same way. The magician chanting over the rods finished and straightened up. “You will not talk again,” he said in his thick accent, “or I will have my men cut your tongue out.” He waved and the men began untying Thomas, the one with the sword putting it against his belly. Thomas stayed silent as they dragged him away. Halfway down the hallway he passed out again.

Thomas awoke to pitch black and the smell of food. Not good food, he was sure, but food nonetheless. He could see his four cellmates by their inner lights, sitting as close together as their chains would allow, eating something from bowls. Thomas tried sitting up and discovered he had a splitting headache. He forced himself upright anyway. “Is there a bowl for me?” he asked, but the words came out too quietly and went unheard. Thomas cleared his throat and tried again. “Is there any for me?”

The four all started together.

“There should be a bowl and a cup near you,” said Ralph. “You just have to feel for it. Go slow or you’ll knock it over.”

Thomas did, moving in an ever widening circle until his hands touched something wooden. He pulled it to his body and smelled spices he did not know.

“Smells funny,” said the young girl. “But you get used to it.”

Thomas hesitated a moment, then put his fingers into the bowl. It was cool and felt like some sort of gruel. He scooped some into his mouth and felt the spices burning on his tongue. He ate it anyway, wolfing down what little was in the bowl as quickly as he could. He felt again until he found the cup. It was water, musty and plain. After far too long without a drink Thomas drank it down in one gulp, then wished he hadn’t. His mouth still burned and there was nothing else to soothe it. He sighed and lay back down, feeling his stomach protest and grumble. Cautiously, he felt for his magic. It was there, but very faint. He thought he might be able to summon a ball of light, but anything more would see him passing out again.

The doors opened and the four guards entered. Without a word they picked up Ralph, unchained him, dragged him out and closed the door behind them. The other three sat still, watching until the guards left. Thomas scooted himself back against the wall and sat there, determined to see how long it would be before Ralph came back. Thomas guessed it would take less time to drain Ralph of his magic. By the time Thomas had counted slowly to two thousand, the men came back, dumped Ralph on the floor, chained him, and then came across the room for Thomas.

“Again?” Thomas said. “How about you let me sleep for a while?”

The one with the sword pointed it at him. Thomas pushed himself to his feet before the men could grab him, more to see if he had the strength than out of any idea of resisting. He managed to rise, but nothing else. He stayed pliable as the men unlocked his shackle and pulled him from the room.

He waited until he was sitting in the chair again before he reached inside himself for the magic. There was some there, but Thomas had no idea how much.

The problem was, it wasn’t until he was ready to pass out that he’d know the magic was gone, and there were six of them in the room. Even at his best, he’d manage maybe two lightning bolts. Then the other men would kill him. Thomas let them tie him to the chair, and sat still while Alfred Pinner once more put his hand on Thomas’s chest.

The magician laid out the stone rod that glowed almost as bright as the one Thomas had seen in the first battle. Thomas looked around the room as Alfred drained his energy. There was the way he’d come and another exit, and no sign of anything else. If Eileen was anywhere, Thomas guessed, she would be down the other hall. Thomas wondered if he could kill the magician, at least. It wouldn’t save his own life, but it might stop the attacks.

Thomas didn’t want to risk Eileen’s life, but he knew that she would have no chance of surviving if he kept doing nothing—especially if the magic they were draining from Thomas was enough to help them win against Henry’s forces. He looked down at the wand. It was glowing brightly, now; ready to be used.

Alfred stumbled away again, sweating and grey. Thomas forced himself to stay awake, forced himself to watch as he guards once more performed the ritual of pushing the sword tip against Thomas’s chest and untying him. The magician gathered up the rod and smiled at Thomas. “You are helping to kill your friends,” he said, patting Thomas on the cheek. “Let’s see how you live with that.”

The men hauled him to his feet and the blood rushed away from his head.

***

When Thomas woke up this time it was into darkness. The door was shut. He could smell food and moved in a slow circle until he found it with his hands, and the cup of water. He forced himself to eat slowly while he thought. He couldn’t allow them to trap him here any longer, nor could he let them have Eileen. If he left without her, she would have no chance.

The guards came in fours, but only one was armed. If he put lightning into that one, then used more lightning to scatter the others, he could take the man’s sword and fight his way out of the room. The problem was stopping the magician before the magician used one of the fire rods on him. Thomas decided against using lightning a second time against the guards. He could get the sword and kill them with it. That way he could kill the magician as soon as he saw the man.

He finished the food and lay himself back down to sleep some more. He’d need all the energy he could muster once the men came in again.

The door opened and Thomas woke, blinking and bleary. He expected them to come to him, but instead they picked up the girl and hauled her out of the room. Thomas watched them take her.

“Seems a pity,” said Ralph quietly, after the door was shut. “Doing this to a young girl. Draining the life out of her.”

“Draining the life out of all of us,” said the woman. “Thomas there’s the worse. He’s slept more than anyone else.”

“Maybe they’re taking more from him.”

You have no idea
, thought Thomas. He lay back down and let himself sleep again.

The door was kicked open hard and fast. Thomas roused himself. Instead of four guards this time, there were ten, all with swords out. Thomas pulled himself to his feet as the guards broke off in pairs, one holding a sword on each prisoner while the other undid the shackle. When they came at Thomas he held still and let them. All the prisoners were prodded forward together down the dark hall. They were pushed into the room with the chair. Alfred was seated, looking pale and scared. The other magician had the stone rod in his hands—the magic in it glowing near-white to Thomas’s eyes—and was keeping an eye on the door.

He said something in his own language, and one guard went to a large box in a corner. The magician turned to the prisoners. “You will be shackled together. Do not fight or you will be killed.”

Thomas cast his eyes towards the door just in time to see another half-dozen men racing into the room, bloodied swords in their hands. They spat something at the magician and turned to face the entrance. The magician stepped up beside them.

Feet raced down the corridor. In the distance, Thomas heard Henry yelling “Faster!”

The magician stepped forward, raising his rod. Thomas, knowing it was probably going to cost him his life, opened his mouth to shout a warning. Eileen’s scream, shrill and loud, cut him off. “Kyun skob!”

Fire filled the hallway, bursting into the room and engulfing the magician. Thomas, on the edges of the flames, felt his hair singe and threw himself to the side, heedless of the men with swords behind him. He needn’t have worried. The raiders fell back to the walls as the magician screamed and whirled, his clothes and body on fire. Black acrid smoke filled the room, stinging Thomas’s eyes and making him cough. Then Eileen, George, Henry, Sir Lawrence and a dozen black-robed figures poured into the room, filling it with bodies. Henry ran the magician through, and the still-flaming body fell to the ground.

Surprise, relief, and fury raced after one another in Thomas’s head as he scrambled to get away from the fighting. Men cut and thrust and parried and shouted and died around him. Thomas rolled against the wall, helpless to do anything but watch. The raiders fought hard, but were driven back. Alfred had abandoned his chair and moved along the far wall, keeping away from the fighting.

Thomas shoved himself up from the wall and ran across the room, dodging combatants and blades alike, until he reached Alfred. He tackled the man, bringing him to the ground. Alfred struggled and Thomas drove his fist into the man’s face a dozen times before Alfred stopped resisting and lay still.

“Thomas!” yelled one of the students. “It’s Thomas!”

The students yelled in victory and surged forward, killing more of the raiders and driving the remaining ones back down the hallway behind them. Eileen ran to Thomas and wrapped her arms around him. Thomas felt the blood that covered her clothes, and saw dozen rents in her cloak that spoke of swords that had come too close, and the chain-mail shirt that had kept the swords from killing her. He pulled her to him and squeezed her as tightly as he could.

“Hold here!” shouted Henry. “Hold this room.”

“No!” Thomas shouted. “The back room there is a prison! Drive them into it and you can keep them there until they starve!”

Henry spared a glance for Thomas before shouting the new order. George and the students surged forward, driving the raiders back down the hallway. From the sounds of it, the fighting was becoming very fierce.

“Here, Captain,” said one of the students, Holding out Thomas’s own rapier and dagger. “We found these in the streets.” Thomas let him stand there. Holding Eileen was all he wanted to do. Eileen kissed him on the head and gently pushed herself to her feet. “Come on,” she said. “We have to go.”