Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 55 Cold Justice

Amond woke up in his chambers and stared at the ten spears aimed directly at him from around the room. He sighed deeply; they no longer restrained him with those chains. Well, most of them, a single thick iron chain connected his right leg to his bed. He didn't mind their somewhat excessive caution. Compared to the knives and daggers that hang around his neck now, these foolish things seemed petty in return. He sat up, stretching and flexing in place as the guards did not waver in their glares. If he made the slightest hint of attempting to escape, they would doubtless hesitate to put one of their spears through his gullet. But could they? He knew it was foolish to ponder, but his thoughts wandered to the event he indeed tried to escape. Amond may not have most of his spells, as his tome was confiscated, but that was why many mages branded their bodies with their spells. To have immediate access to them, nothing short of mass maiming could completely eliminate them. Though he had few of these tattoos, none of them were of extreme power. Still, perhaps he could send waves of necrotic energy over them, killing at least half and leaving the other half incapacitating. Of course, this will alert the guards outside his room, but he would at least get a head start in leaving this wretched city. But he mustn't. His actions will reflect poorly on those who put him into this position in the first place.

The door to his chamber opened, and there stood Brother Kulban. He looked a tad more troubled than usual. He had not shaved his head or beard completely, leaving a fuzz of dark hair to appear. He still carried his staff in hand, as he must know well that he must not be too careful with a fellow Brother of Ten. The guards immediately stood at attention, alleviating their leveled spears and standing tall, saluting. Kulban ignored them, standing before Amond. His expression was troubled but all the more bitter.

"Leave us," he ordered. Hesitantly the guards began pouring out of the room, leaving only Kulban and Amond alone with one another. Kulban walked over to the corner of the room to grab a chair and sit facing Amond, still gripping his staff.

Amopnd chuckled dryly at Kulban. "Tell me what troubles you, my old friend."

"I don't understand," he whispered. He was then repeated louder as if Amond did not hear, frustration rising in his voice and posture. "I don't understand, Amond. What drove you towards such madness? What sort of corruption made you forsake the grace of not only Prince Tanit but our beloved Emperor? Do not tell me that these afflictions were mere bouts of greed, brother. Surely not so for your gain. A brother of ten engaging in . . . in petty smuggling and murder. Are you mad?"

Amond raised his chin towards Kulban. "You still believe that to be so, brother."

"What choice do I have," he shouted. "You show up after days of absence. Next thing we know, a Thirian prince shows up with your severed hand, which you seem too comfortable about. What else must we believe? Then, at the whim of Prince Tanit, he offers the prince a challenge in exchange for his freedom. So tell me, Amond, what possessed you to commit to such things? What bribery and little accomplishments have been vested in making you stoop so low below your station?"

"Below my station," the words ranged like hollow winds. His eyes turned into narrow slits upon his brother that now seemed to judge him. "Do not presume that you know of my station, Kulban."

"What do you mean?" Kulban's gaze shifted upon Amond.

Amond smiled. "I do what I must; I commit to my duties and what I have done because that it what is asked of me. There is no greed within me, nothing that I wish for beyond the service of more extraordinary powers, for I know that I will be rewarded for my fervor. That Prince only knows a glimmer of the danger my passion will bring, The master that I service, that you too service."

Kulban grew silent. His words, full of zeal, were only seen in the most possessive and zealots of the Emperor's followers. This was not the speech of a modest brother of ten. And what's worse is that this greater power he so claims to follow, he perceives as more significant than the Djinn Emperor. That was near blasphemous. No other authority, besides that Thirian Master of Mysticism, could compare to their lord's near omnipotent prowess. Amond had witnessed this as the Djinn Emperor made him a Brother of Ten. And yet, as he looked to Amond, his gaze his stance was all but sure.