First Apprentice

Chapter 23 Part 2

Wind howling in my ears, I turned toward Helen. I breathed in and held it for two counts before exhaling. The simple breathing exercise calmed my heartbeat and, I hoped, eliminated the telltale tension in my shoulders.

Most daes sensed each other's approach as easily as breathing. They instinctively knew when another magical signature entered their territory. Some like Uncle Manfred could track others for hours before they exited their range.

I couldn't.

Over the years, I'd heard dozens of theories. Xhian, the only healer who'd ever examined me, believed I simply emitted too much magic. He likened it to trying to see in a sandstorm. Grandfather believed I subconsciously considered it unimportant and I'd master it after a life-threatening situation or ten. Endellion and Uncle Manfred were suspiciously mute on the matter.

There was a reason I didn't realize David and Joel were in Fecked Mick's until David confronted me in the office. The same weakness meant I waltzed into Jon's trap unaware and killed him because of it. It also meant I didn't know when Helen arrived, how long she'd watched, or if there was anyone else spying on my gate. It left me entirely dependent on Master Guardian Tessa and my nose and eyes. It was a glaring weakness and one I hid as best as I could.

Expression blanked, I cocked my head. "Did you find the missing gate reports?" I asked. Out of twenty-nine gates, I only had recent maintenance records for the Central Keystone. If I didn't correct that oversight within the next few days, reviewing and signing all those reports would take me days instead of a few hours.

Crimson gemstones flared in Helen's aura like shooting stars. For a split second, they overtook her beaver brown base—rages. "There aren't any," she said.

Chains rattled in my mind and heat surged through my veins as my magic railed against its constraints. "What!" The word flew from lips, part accusation, part disbelief.

"You heard me," Helen said grimly. "There aren't any reports because those gates aren't being maintained."

"Terry has guardian administrators assigned to them, one each according to records he gave me."

"Had," Helen replied. "Terry had guardian administrators maintaining them. Protocol dictates the gate's maintainer transfers with their gate, but someone fouled up. They weren't transferred. No one has examined those gates in the last week, let alone maintained them.

"Do you mean to tell me," Tessa's voice dropped into a deadly whisper, "that twenty-seven gates are drawing magic from my wounded son because Terry's playing games with his apprentice!"

Helen's right foot slid back as she raised her arms in a guard. It wouldn't stop Tessa. Little could, unless Helen was one of the rare guardians like Uncle Manfred who fought in and survived one of the clan wars.

Was she? Unlikely. Helen was too modern a spelling for that.

Magic flaring around her like a halo, Helen raised her chin. "Do not start a fight you can't win," Helen paused, "child."

Brown magic swept towards us like a tsunami. Tessa's illusionary shield wavered around us like a mirage then popped as it was a soap bubble.

Horned shadows crept towards us. Twisted and grotesque like the conservatory's gargoyles, the putrid scent of decaying flesh shrouded the mountainside like the anatomy lecture Uncle Manfred took me to but a dozen times worse. At least, those corpses were somewhat fresh.

Magic boiled under my skin as instincts I'd long suppressed slipped their leash.

Invader. Challenger. Dead, they whispered as if the Central Keystone's souls were locked inside my head.

Smoke filled my nostrils as scales flowed down my arms like water Heat pooled in my fingertips as a glacial cold seeped down my legs and settled in my toes. With blood still dripping from my hands, I brushed my palm over my left wrist. A corded hilt met my hand. I curled my fingers around the knife and shifted.

My limbs moved as if they had a will of their own.

Step. Turn. Block. A deadly dance that I didn't dare fight. Fighting the magic divided my attention, left openings the challenger might exploit. Instead, I slipped deeper into it until my world narrowed to the brown-haired woman, her staff lashing out at me, and the demonic illusions swirling around us.

Between one step and the next, I became less than smoke, weightless and ephemeral.

I lunged.

A hand passed through my chest. Magic flared, weighing against mine like a wet blanket. Fingers dug into my neck. Foreign magic wormed its way inside me, twisting my magic against itself and sucking it back toward my left shoulder—my human marker.

Marstow, my instincts roared as ice coated my veins and fire surged toward forth.

My blade struck.

The shadows fluttered and the scent of decaying flesh gave way to freshly fallen snow.

A pulse thudded under my lips. My teeth pressed against the skin and I growled, a low thing that vibrated my entire body.

"I submit," a woman whispered.

Like crystal goblet flung against a stone wall, the spell shattered.

Blinking in the too bright sun, I stared down at Helen's bowed head and the bared left side of her neck. Black flames shrouded her Marstow markers as if her entire being gave way to mine.

Stomach roiling, my gaze darted from side to side. Runes glittered around us like dust motes. Were they part of a last-ditch shield Tessa threw up or something far worse?

Out of the corner of my eyes, I spotted the last remnants of a figure-eight and my heart dropped into my shoes.

Challenge runes.

I'd read about them, questioned my family, and once witnessed Aunt Sumati and Uncle Manfred attempt one as a demonstration. They couldn't even get the first layer of the seal to appear. Something about instincts and past battles. Endellion said they already knew where they stood in relation to each other.

Regardless, I never thought I'd fight one. I thought I could lock my magic away, keep it from responding, and control the fight with logic. All lies I told myself.

I could no more control my magic than I could control the setting of the sun.

With my hands shaking and my mouth drier than a drunk's bottle on Thursday, I swallowed hard. "So that's the compulsion Endellion warned me about," I whispered.

"Aye," Helen answered.

I stepped back, dropped my hands to my sides, and inclined my head toward her. A simple nod that indicated I acknowledged her submission without any uncivilized behavior, or so I assumed. Endellion's etiquette lessons were sometimes several thousand years out of date. For all I knew, Helen expected my teeth tearing into her neck and would accept nothing less.

She eyed me like I was a snake coiled to strike then heaved a sigh. "As you will, Alannah-dae."

Behind me, Tessa snorted. "I told you she wouldn't."

I whirled around. "Told you? You planned this!"