The Archmage: Chapter Seven

I was woken up some time later by the sound of footsteps, and I dragged myself out of bed, dusting myself off and starting to make the bed – at least as much as it could be made. 

“I see you’re awake,” a calm voice that I recognized as Edward Elide said. I turned and gave him a smile that was full of all the confidence that I didn’t have. 

“Mister Elide,” I said, flicking open my third eye. That, at the very least, wasn’t able to be blocked by the wards, though I did note that it seemed far less… potent. Like when I intentionally weakened it to prevent me from being overwhelmed. 

“Let me be very clear,” he said. “I have a few questions for you, and a ritual to set up. If you’re willing to answer the question, I’ll kill you swiftly for the ritual. If not, we’re going to have to do it the slow way.” 

I stared at him impassively. Of course he was going to make an aura spark out of me. The question was how much time I had. The spell was complex, but not as complex as the ones I’d put in my cloak. A week, most likely, maybe a bit less. 

“What are your questions?” I asked as the silence stretched on. 

“You must understand, I need you to drink this first,” he said, passing a truth potion through the slot with a bit of his force magic. I took it and made a show of examining it – sniffing it, putting a drop on my fingers and rolling it between them, and putting a single drop on my tongue. 

In reality, I was looking over it with my third eye. This was definitely similar to the truth potions I’d seen in the past, but it was different – there were pain spells woven in too, like the one George had combined with the paralysis spell I stole so long ago. 

Without any way to remove those sections, I considered what the odds of him using a non-magical poison were. 

Low, probably. He had me trapped, and wouldn’t need a poison to kill me. He could just kill me. 

So, with no other real choice, I knocked back the potion. I was familiar enough with truth potions and faerie law that I thought – thought – I could use this to my advantage. 

“First, was Byron the one who crippled my father?” he asked. 

“I’m not privy to everything that Byron does,” I said. “That said, I’m confident based on the information I’ve been able to gather, as well as my skills as a witch, that it was done by an archmage. Byron seems logical.” 

Technically, none of that was a lie. 

“I see,” he said. “Are you a part of a black operations division under Luis, or some ultra loyalist faction to Byron?” 

“I am not,” I said. “I sell my mage skills. My work is quality, however, so there aren’t many who can afford it.” 

“Of course,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Then you were hired to attack me? Why the uniforms?”

“Byron is apathetic and overconfident,” I said. That got a small spike of pain rushing through me, but it wasn’t technically a lie, and it wasn’t so extreme that I was unable to keep a straight face. During the meeting with the archmages, she’d barely cared one way or another, and every archmage was overconfident. I’d been overconfident attacking here, and I wasn’t even an archmage.” 

“Well, do you have any incriminating evidence of Byron?” 

“The uniform,” I said. “I was also in town for a short time, and there are fair odds that someone saw me.” 

Edward nodded a few times, then smiled. 

“I must say, you’re being far more cooperative than I expected.” 

“I’d prefer not to die,” I said. “I’m a witch of reasonable skill. I have the rune charging, rune compression, and realm-reaching arch-stars. I also have a reasonable degree of faerie magic. It would be better to be under house arrest and working for you than it would be to die.” 

Edward’s eyes narrowed as what I’d been planning – or at least, what he thought I’d been planning – was at last revealed. 

“Really? Three arch-stars, one of which there are no public records of? Where did you learn your witchcraft? The records of Yesgol didn’t have a mage matching your description.” 

I had to stop myself from sighing in relief. It really was amazing how much some hair dye and eye changing could alter someone’s perceptions, especially when there wasn’t an easy way to identify facial structure. 

“I’ve picked up a variety of witchcraft skills,” I said. “I’ve learned some from stolen books. Some from nobles. Some of it even smuggled in from Zheren.” 

“Really now?” he said, actually sounding somewhat impressed. “Your black market contacts must be impressive. Hats off to you. Now, what is your name? And what were the names of the two other mages that joined you in the attack? A fellow witch and a flame and force sorcerer, if I’m not mistaken.” 

My brain raced, trying to think of a deception.

“I don’t know either of their last names,” I said finally. “But I can describe them, if that would work?” 

“Fine,” he said. 

I described both of the disguises that we’d put on, mentioning the hair color and changed eyes, and Edward actually pulled out a thin notepad in order to write it down, before nodding. 

“And their first names? You said that you didn’t know their last names, but that means you did know their first. Don’t think you can slip past my questions so easily.” 

I cursed internally. I’d really been hoping that he wasn’t going to notice that. 

My mind raced, trying to find a reasonable explanation that would mislead him. The name Osheen wasn’t exactly a common one, and while Tara was a lot more common, it would still be too easy to trace back to Yesgol. 

Once again, I cursed my country for only having one real magical academy. If we’d had three, like Zheren, or if they’d simply been a part of every college, like in Elderglass, I’d have a lot more leeway. 

“Nothing to say?” Edward Elide said.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, and I closed it again. I couldn’t say I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell a lie. I couldn’t…

My panicking thoughts were cut off as Edward smiled and released a spell at me. It passed through the wards on the bars of the cell with no problem, and I felt a cushion of force lift me, then lock my left arm into place. It rushed down my arm and to my hand, and then I felt my fingers spread wide.

“This is your last chance,” Edward said, a sickly sweet smile on his face. 

“I can’t tell you,” I said. 

The pressure on my pinkie finger built more and more, until…

Crunch. 

Pain shot through me and I let out a cry. 

“Are you willing to tell me now?” Edward asked calmly.

“No,” I grunted. 

Pressure started to build on my ring finger, and a moment later I felt the sharp pain of my bone splintering. I screamed again. 

“Are you willing to tell me now?” Edward repeated.

The process continued until each one of my fingers was broken, and then Edward used his life rune bond to slowly repair the damage. Normally, healers used spells to dampen or remove the pain of a healing, but Edward naturally didn’t see the need to do that. 

There was something I noted though. The power of the potion was starting to dissolve. I didn’t know if Edward knew that, though. In fact, I’d bet he couldn’t. Physically speaking, the potion was still inside me, so his magic should say I was under the effects. It was only the magical component that had faded, and it wasn’t as if he had the mage sight arch-star. Not yet at least. 

“Now we’re going to move onto your arms,” Edward said. “It’s a shame, you really were so cooperative up until now.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” I said. “I can’t tell you.” 

I stressed the can’t in that sentence, hoping to force him to draw the conclusion that I wasn’t under the oath of a compact. I wasn’t eager to test out the minimized power of the potion, but I didn’t exactly want my arms snapped either. 

Edward’s eyes narrowed. 

“Explain.” 

“Can’t.” I said. 

“Are you under compact? If so, these wards should actually protect you. They prevent the influence of outside powers like compacts.”

“Their names are Alycia and Derek,” I said. “The witch is Alycia, Derek is the sorcerer.”

The last pangs of pain that the potion sent into me were considerable, but nowhere near the torture that I’d just experienced, and Edward didn’t seem to notice. 

“I really don’t know their last names,” I said. 

“Thank you for your cooperativeness. I’ll… Consider… your offer. Even if I reject, I’ll give you a swift and painless death.” 

That was probably the closest thing to an apology I could expect from him, so I nodded and waited for him to leave.

The moment he was gone, I collapsed into a heap on the bed, sweating. I just hoped the details I’d given him were enough to throw off the trail. 

I sat up and started chewing on my nails, and actually wound up gnawing on one so long that a drop of blood actually splashed down onto my shirt. 

I stared at it, and my eyes widened. 

This… 

This was the answer. 

I leapt to my feet and stripped the sheets off my bed, then considered for a long moment. 

Blood was an excellent conductor of magic. I’d need to be careful that I didn’t lose too much blood, though, which meant I’d need to rely on being very clever.

I opened my third eye again and examined the wards around my cell. I didn’t know wardbreaking as well as I did combat abjuration, but I had still studied the basics of the field.

All wards needed three things: Wardlines, which defined where to project the effect. The effect itself. And a power source. While weak wards could draw on the ambient aura to recharge, not unlike an artifact, the conversion rate was terrible, far worse than in enchanted items. 

That meant that this ward was almost certainly being powered by an external source, like a giant aura crystal or multiple connected crystals, a series of aura sparks, or spell bottles that had been filled with messes of power.

I was guessing that it was a combination of all of the above. 

As I walked along my cell, I noted where the wardlines were, and more importantly, where they stretched off to gather power, rather than projecting the effect. 

I could save a lot on the amount of blood that I was using if I designed the spells to tap into the power of the wards. 

That had severe downsides – namely, range, since it meant they’d be useless once they got too far from the wards – but I didn’t need things to be perfect, just enough to break me out and let me flee. After that, I could activate one of Draven’s portals, and flee. 

Hopefully…

But what spells to use? 

The obvious one was to divert the ward’s power away from my cell. That would give me a lot of options for breaking through the ordinary metal bars. 

I’d not done enough looking into metal magic to design something as elaborate as a key spell, so I tossed that out. No, I think the best thing I could do was stealth spells and a force spell to break the lock. 

I felt a tiny twitch of a smile on my face at the thought of stealth spells. Light and shadow were the first enchantments I’d ever made, and even though I’d expanded much further, it was time to return to my roots. 

I bit into my thumb again, and wiped the blood on the sheet. Slowly, rune by rune, line by line, I started to write out a spell.