“You’re a traitor,” Kaler spat again.
Lorit looked up at Chihon, who was watching him intently.
“You’re too weak to do anything yet,” she said. “Let's get you patched up. You can try again after you’ve rested.
Rotiaqua helped Lorit up and onto the bed. He skin was raw, blistered and painful. He winced at each movement as she gently pushed him down.
“Relax a while,” the Sorceress said. “Let me heal you, at least enough so you can get comfortable.”
Rotiaqua passed her staff across Lorit several times. She mumbled something under her breath that Lorit didn’t catch. The pain in his arm and shoulder quieted down as she did. It was now the level of severe sunburn and no longer as painful as if he'd just been brushed by the flames.
He drifted off to sleep listening to her singsong voice repeating the spells that drew the pain from his skin.
Lorit woke well after dawn. He came awake with a start to find Chihon sitting in the chair, reading from her spell book. Kaler was crouched in the corner, silently looking off into space.
Lorit moved his arm and shoulder. It still stung, but the worst of the pain was gone. He reached up and touched the skin to find it healed, with only a few scars to remind him of the conflict.
“I brought you a new shirt, and food,” Chihon said. He stood up, pushing the chair out from the table. A plate of breads, cheese and cut meats sat on the table, along with a steaming teapot and a large mug of milk.
“Come, eat something,” she said. “You were exhausted.”
“Did I sleep late?” Lorit asked.
“A little,” she said. “You slept for three days.” She helped him slide the chair under the table.
Lorit was starving and tore into the food.
“Slow down. You don't want to make yourself sick,” Chihon said, laughing.
“I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week,” Lorit said.
“You drained yourself almost dry,” she said. “Me, too,” she added, sitting next to him and picking at the plate.
“Why do you look so fresh, then?” he asked, looking her over. She looked bright and cheerful.
“I'm just glad you’re awake,” she said. “That, and I’ve been getting regular meals, while you lay there recovering. I was almost back to normal after the first day.
“Rotiaqua says it may take a little while longer for you,” Chihon explained. “She says, with your physical injuries, you’ll still have a few days left to heal.”
“Are we safe here? Aren't you worried that the priests will come after us again?” he asked, looking around the room for signs of the priests. “Why haven’t they come looking for us?”
“Rotiaqua says we’re well shielded this time,” Chihon said. “We’re quite safe. If that Pries took anywhere as much damage as you did, he probably needs to regain his strength before another battle.”
“How about him?” Lorit asked, indicating Kaler, who was sitting quietly in the corner.
“He’s had nothing to say, even when we released him enough to let him eat or drink.
“Let me eat and regain my strength, then we can have a little chat.”
He finished everything on the plate and drank down both the milk and the strong tea. After letting it settle, Lorit said, “Let's have a chat with our friend, shall we?”
Lorit lowered himself to the floor once again. He used his staff to help him sit in front of the boy. He released the bonds slightly, to allow Kaler to focus his eyes and wake up.
“Why did they kill my sister?” he demanded.
Kaler drew in a breath to spit at Lorit, as he had in their last encounter. Lorit raised his hand at the boy, who started to choke on his own saliva. He coughed until Lorit thought he was going to turn blue. He lowered his hand and released his hold on the boy.
“You want to talk now?” he asked.
“You are a...” he started to say. Lorit raised his hand once more, and the boy stopped mid sentence.
“You have something to say?” Lorit asked.
“Not to you!” Kaler spat.
Lorit raised his staff and passed it in between them. He remembered the spell the priest had used on him long ago, when he was under their interrogation. Kaler stiffened and thrashed against the bonds in pain.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Lorit said. He watched as the boy grimaced in pain and struggled, just as he’d done.
Kaler passed out several times from the pain before Lorit was able to make any headway at all.
“Why are the priests after me and my family?” he demanded.
“They think you’re special. Your sister, too,” he said, breathing hard, gasping for air between waves of pain.
“Why do they think I am special? What did I do?”
“It's not what you did,” he said around clenched teeth, “it's what you may do.”
“May do?” Lorit asked. He shook his staff rattling the pain that enveloped the boy, who screamed in agony.
“They fear that you may become a powerful Wizard, and bring about the ruin of the temple.”
“Why do they believe this?” Lorit demanded. He leaned in to get a closer look at the boy's face as it contorted in pain.
“There’s a prophecy,” he said, “in the temple, in Quineshua. It speaks of you, and a girl.”
Kaler looked up at Chihon. “His sister,” he sneered, “not you.
“They’ve defeated the prophecy by killing the girl. Now you won’t pair with her and the Temple is safe.”
“How can I take down Vorathorm?” Lorit asked.
“I don't know,” Kaler said. “They didn't share anything like that with me.”
As Lorit relaxed the pain he held over the boy, Kaler slumped visibly. He watched Lorit with eyes filled with pain and hatred.
“What else do they say about me?” Lorit asked.
“They say you can break a man's soul.”
Lorit could see the boy preparing once again to spit on him. He reached out, put a shield around himself, and probed the boy as he’d done with the priest. He found a slight trace of a connection between the boy and the temple. It was a dark blue thread extending from him straight down into the ground. He reached out and touched it.
The boy sat up and screamed in pain louder than he’d done under any of Lorit's torture.
Lorit felt the boy's power surge as he touched the thread. It would have been so easy to absorb it, to add it to his own. He played with the boy’s energy, molding and directing it, shaping it and twisting it.
“Lorit, no!” he heard Chihon shout.
He released the boy's power and reached once again for the thread. This time he plucked it and quickly severed it.
The power around the boy collapsed inward upon him. It sparkled and tightened until the boy vanished in a bright flash of light.
“What did you do?” Chihon asked.
“I didn’t take his power,” Lorit said argumentatively.
“I could see that, you collapsed his power in on him until it destroyed him. Where did you learn that?”
“I just sort of figured it out.”
“Did you mean to kill him?” she demanded.
“No,” Lorit said. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. Not for sure.”
Contest of Wills
Lorit waited a few more days, until his strength had returned fully. His shoulder and arm still harbored a twinge when he moved just the wrong way, but he was back to his usual self. He felt ready to take on the temple, so he called a council of war.
Rotiaqua and Chihon were already seated when Lorit entered the dining room for the noon meal. He pulled out the bench across from them and sat.
“Where's Chedel?” he asked.
“He’s off on errands,” Rotiaqua said. “He’s tending to the horses, and then running down to the market to bring me some ingredients for your potion.”
Lorit rubbed his shoulder at the thought. “I’m feeling fine now. I think it's time to start planning our assault,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially.
“Are you sure you’re well enough?” the Sorceress asked. “You haven’t had much of a rest.”
“I’m sure I’m ready,” Lorit said.
The serving girl arrived with three mugs of ale and a platter of roast fowl. She unstacked the plates and handed an empty plate to each of them.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked.
“I think that will be all for now,” Rotiaqua said. She reached into her pack and pulled out a couple of coppers that she pressed into the girl's hand. “Come back later and we can talk about that custard,” she said with a wink.
“What are you planning?” Rotiaqua asked Lorit. She carefully carved a slice from the fowl and placed it on her plate. She selected a few potatoes, nestled around the bird, and herded them onto her plate.
“I think I want to enter by the side door, and see if I can find Vorathorm. If I can catch him off guard, I may be able to penetrate his shields, and do to him what I did to Kaler,” he explained. Lorit served himself a slice of the fowl and potatoes after Chihon was finished.
“I think I was close to that last time, but I was just too exhausted,” he added.
“Battles between Wizards are short lived affairs,” Rotiaqua said. “In most battles, the priests are not able to absorb the power from their opponent. Their opponent is usually drained in the fight, before they can overcome them.”
“I'm not trying to take his power. I didn't seem to drain him too much either time,” Lorit said. “He must have powerful reserves, or else he’s drawing from somewhere else.”
“He may be drawing power reserves straight from the temple. Priests seldom venture far from their temples,” the Sorceress explained.
“How do we defeat him without using more power than he has?” Lorit asked. He swirled one of the potatoes around his plate creating a wave of gravy before he popped it into his mouth and looked at Rotiaqua.
“I don’t know how you’re going to defeat him. I just know you must, and you must do it without taking his power into yourself.”
They debated while they ate, weighing the merits of different approaches until Lorit had the beginnings of a plan that he thought would work. He needed to make a foray into the temple and find a lower level priest to test his theory. He wasn't ready to take on Vorathorm until he was sure he had a strategy that would work.
Just as they were reaching the end of the meal, Chedel came skipping into the dining room. He plopped himself onto the bench next to Lorit and grabbed at the platter that held the remnants of their meal. He flipped the cleaned carcass over and stabbed at the back of the bird picking off meat here and there that they’d passed over or missed.
“This is delicious,” Chedel said around a mouthful of fowl and potato. “So what did we decide while I was out?” he asked, looking at each of them in turn.
“We have decided to make another entry into the temple, to try out a few techniques. I want to see if they’ll work,” Lorit said. “We're going to look for a junior priest, one to test my theory on. If it works, then we go after Vorathorm.”
“When are we going?” Chedel asked, taking Rotiaqua's mug and draining it. The Sorceress raised her hand and signaled the girl to bring two more.
“We’re going first thing in the morning,” Lorit said. “You’re not going at all,” he added, throwing the boy a stern look.
“Why do I get left out of the fun?”
“Because you’re too young,” Lorit said. “Because you don't have enough power to protect yourself.”
The next day, just before Morning Prayers, Lorit and Chihon headed towards the temple. They had dressed casually, as if they were out for a morning stroll. Lorit carried his staff with him, but little else.
When they reached the side door that Lorit used on his last visit, they found it locked. Lorit reached inside the lock with his magic and quickly sprung it open, allowing them access.
They walked down the hallway until they came to the room where Lorit had found Kaler. It was locked. Lorit put his hand against it but could feel no one behind it. They continued on, taking a turn down a side corridor until they came to a door with a nameplate next to it. It read 'Nyspol'.
Lorit put his hand to the door. Once again, he could sense the dark purple haze of the priest's magic.
“I think this one will do,” Lorit said. He probed the lock and opened it as he had the side entrance. The room contained a table draped in black cloth, hosting a series of silver turned candlesticks. Each of the candlesticks bore a thick white candle. High up on the walls, round windows with panes cut and leaded in square angular blocks were just starting to show the dawning of the day.
As they took in the room, the door slammed behind them with a resounding thud that made the candles flicker. Lorit and Chihon turned around to see a man in black robes standing beside it. His head was shaved and his robes were outlined with the green piping of an under-priest in the temple.
“We have been waiting for you,” he said. He took a step towards them, raising his staff menacingly.
Lorit stepped between the priest and Chihon. “Stay where you are,” he warned. He raised his hands and started gathering his power for an attack.
The priest stopped and smiled an almost welcoming smile. “Please, be seated,” he said, gesturing to an upholstered bench near the table. “I’m Nyspol, and you’re a guest in my quarters. I should be demonstrating appropriate Temple hospitality, even though you entered uninvited.”
Lorit remained standing where he was. He didn’t trust the smile of the priest.
“We’ve come for Vorathorm,” Lorit said. “You may carry him a message for us.”
“Why don't you tell him yourself?” Nyspol asked. “He’ll be here shortly, just as soon as he finishes the Morning Prayers.” He gestured once more to the bench. “Please have a seat. No reason to be uncomfortable while we wait.”
Lorit remained motionless where he was, but Chihon sat down heavily. Lorit could feel the pressure of the priest's magic on his shields. He pushed back and started to probe the priest's shields. He could feel the imaginary strands of rope that symbolized the layers of the shield. Carefully he separated them, working through layer after layer, until he had a small clear path through them.
He reached inside with his mind and saw the violet haze of the priest's magic surrounding him within his shields. He probed for a weakness or a thread he could touch to disable or kill the under-priest.