The Mage of Trelian (34 page)

So he did.

Krelig was attacking more fiercely than ever before. He might have been drawing things out earlier, wanting to make the others hurt, wanting to wear them down with fear and exhaustion until he could destroy them at his leisure, possibly after making a long speech about how superior he was to the rest of them and how they would all suffer horribly before they died. But since that first powerful spell Calen had sent at him, Krelig had been done playing. And despite his new strength and power, Calen was still shocked at how strong Krelig was. He thought maybe,
maybe
they were about evenly matched now — but that was with Calen having the combined power of eighty mages. Krelig was that strong all on his own.

And he knew a lot more magic.

Calen didn’t recognize more than a fraction of the spells that Krelig threw at him. There wasn’t time to try to analyze or sort out anything. He just watched the colors. In those few early seconds before Krelig released his spells, Calen had just enough time to be ready with a defense. And sometimes enough time to cast something back, although now that Krelig was on his guard, it was even harder to get anything through. Krelig might not be able to see what Calen was casting, but he had years of experience in sensing magic energy, and Calen’s knowledge, despite how much he’d learned in the past few months, was nothing compared to that.

But it shouldn’t matter. Not if the rest of Serek’s plan worked as they’d hoped.

Calen realized he was letting his mind wander and made himself stop.
Focus, gods curse you!

He focused.

Blue to counter red, black to counter white, a million different combinations of subtle shades of energy in all the different colors that existed. Calen let his instincts guide him. Krelig seemed tireless, but he didn’t look happy.

“Not possible,” he said. “You can’t . . .” He paused, then crafted something more slowly. And more sinister. Threads of red and black and deep violet, twining together in dark and evil knots of pain and fire and destruction. Calen watched, waiting, as Krelig fed more and more energy into his spell, mentally preparing his counterspell in response.

And when it came, he was ready.

The force of it still made him stagger backward, but he blocked it all the same, and sent tendrils of his counterspell into the energy Krelig had sent, pulling the hostile magic into harmless strands. Krelig couldn’t see it the way Calen could, but he could certainly sense it. He screamed, enraged.

“
How?
How are you doing that? Tell me!” He strode toward Calen, perhaps to try to shake it out of him through entirely nonmagical means. Calen backed up, casting as he went. Krelig raised one hand, then the other, absently pushing Calen’s spells aside, but Calen thought the mage was having to use just a little more effort to do so now.

As for himself, Calen had never felt this strong in his life.

And oh, gods, how he liked it.

“What’s wrong,
Master
? Did you teach me too well?”

He sent a version of that face-melting spell, one he’d crafted in his mind the night of his return. There was a stream of deep red-orange energy at the center of it that was the exactly the same shade as Helena’s hair.

Calen thrust it forward as hard as he could, and in several parts, so Krelig couldn’t just bat it out of the air, but the mage still had a shield in place, and the spell shattered harmlessly against it. Krelig grunted, clearly having felt the force of that, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to move toward Calen.

“I didn’t teach you this,” Krelig growled. “This is something else. I know the other mages are helping you, making you stronger . . . but still, you should not be able to . . .”

He started his next spell without moving his hands, giving no outward sign, but of course Calen could still see the colors, and still early enough to be ready.

He countered, again and again, until Krelig stopped moving. He stood there, eyes burning with fury. “You
cannot
be this fast! How are you doing it?”

“You’ll never know,” Calen said. He grinned at the older man. “How does that feel? Win or lose, if you die here today or if you finally manage to create something I can’t block and kill me where I stand, you will never, never know. The universe has secrets even from you, it would seem. Do you hate that? Do you hate not knowing?”

“You will tell me,”
Krelig grated, beginning to cast again. He put everything into it now, Calen could see it, the colors blazing more fiercely than ever, the force of the spells knocking him backward even though he continued to block them in time. Krelig had released his shield, taking even the energy he’d kept in reserve for that to pour into what he was sending at Calen, faster and faster. “Tell me!
Tell me!
” He was screaming now, completely out of control. He sent one more blast that threw Calen abruptly and painfully onto his back, then ran over to stand above him.

“I will kill you,” Krelig said in that terrifying calm voice that had always been the scariest one of all. His expression, too, was calm, but his eyes were insane with rage and confusion. “But not before you tell me your secret.” He stood there, red-violet energy gathering between his palms, breathing hard, seemingly not aware of anything else but Calen lying at his feet. He started another spell but then kicked Calen hard in the ribs with his boot. Calen hadn’t seen that coming. He curled up in pain, and then screamed in agony as Krelig sent a fiery bolt of red magic through his shoulder, pinning him to the ground with what felt like a white-hot iron spike.

“Taunt me now,” Krelig said softly. “Tell me again how I will die not knowing.” More red energy gathered, another molten spike in the making, and Calen saw it but forced himself not to prepare. Instead he met Mage Krelig’s bright and crazy eyes squarely, glaring at him despite the pain. When the second spike hit, pinning his other shoulder, Calen screamed again, but still didn’t try to fight back.

“You will die,” Calen managed, when he could make himself stop screaming, “not knowing, you miserable, crazy, gods-cursed thing.” He felt hot blood in his mouth; he must have bitten his tongue at some point after he fell. He spat to the side, but kept his eyes on Krelig’s. “My secret. Mine. And you will never know what it is.”

Krelig raised his hands again, and this time, Calen thought, he probably wouldn’t be able to hold back. He wanted to kill Calen so badly, the desire practically shone from him like rays of the sun. Or was that just the magic energy gathering around him as he prepared to strike? Calen realized that his head was going a little fuzzy from the pain. That wasn’t good. He had to focus; he had to stay present. . . .

“Oh, Calen,” Krelig whispered. “How you will pay for this.”

And then suddenly Krelig screamed, not with rage this time, but with surprise and pain. So much that it radiated out from him in glowing red bursts. Or at least, that’s how it looked to Calen, his vision blurred with unshed tears and pain of his own.

Krelig had just enough time to stare up in alarm toward the wall, toward where the other mages still stood, several of whom had pulled back their strength from Calen over the last few minutes.

Toward Serek, who had pulled his own strength back almost as soon as they began, reserving it for this very moment.

“No. He won’t,” he heard Serek say in his mind, but he wasn’t speaking to Calen; he was speaking to Krelig.

And then Krelig was gone, vanished into a ball of red fire as big as a house. Bigger.
Big as a dragon,
Calen thought hazily.

And then the fire went out, and Krelig’s body lay charred and smoking on the ground.

Calen thought that it was probably safe to faint now. So he did.

When he woke up, the first thing he saw was Meg’s face, looking down at him.

“Hello,” he said. His voice came out in a hoarse croak.

She grinned, relief showing clearly on her face.

“Hi,” she said back. “You’re always passing out when things get rough, aren’t you?”

He blinked. “What? Hey . . .”

She laughed. Then abruptly threw herself down and hugged him. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Ow,” he said. “Shoulders.”

She pulled back, kneeling beside him. “Sorry.” But she didn’t sound that sorry. That was okay. Calen hadn’t really minded the hug.

“What’s happening?” Calen asked. He didn’t quite feel ready to sit up.

“Well,” Meg said, glancing around, “Krelig is dead. Were you still awake for that part?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so, but it was hard to be sure. Well, while you and Krelig were battling it out, Jakl and I were keeping the other traitor mages away. Until someone from our side woke up Mage Oren, and one of the other mages from Serek’s group did that transportation spell and came down to help. She hit the remaining ones with some kind of sleep spell, I guess, because they all slumped to the ground at once. I think they were too distracted by the dragon to realize what was happening until it was too late.”

So many transportation spells. Those were still forbidden, as far as he knew. They were all going to be in trouble.

“What about the slaarh?”

“The other mages are helping the soldiers with the last of those, as well. There are only a few left. Several of the human handlers tried to run for it when they realized Krelig was dead, but we got them.”

“And the Lourin soldiers?”

“Surrendered. Well, some surrendered; some ran. But they didn’t get very far.” She smiled again, and this time it was one of her fierce dragon-girl smiles. “Jakl and I helped Captain Varyn round them up.”

At the sound of his name, Jakl thrust his head into view beside Meg, nearly knocking her over, and snorted a blast of warm dragony breath into Calen’s face. Meg laughed and pushed him back. “Move over, you. Give Calen some room.”

Suddenly Serek and Anders were there, too, also looking down at him. Calen was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, like he was a bug under a glass. He grunted and struggled to sit up. Meg helped him.

“Well done, Calen,” Serek said. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked less grim than he had in a long time. “I’m sorry about the, uh . . .” He gestured toward Calen’s shoulders. “Let me help with that a little.” Calen sighed in relief as the blue and golden energy sank into his shoulders, easing the pain a great deal.

Meanwhile, Anders had walked over to peer down at Krelig’s unmoving form.

“He’s really dead, isn’t he?” Calen asked, suddenly worried. The man had come back from some other universe; could they be certain that even death was enough to stop him?

“Pretty sure he’s dead,” Anders said. He hesitated, then stepped back. “Best to be very sure, though, I suppose.”

He sent a surprisingly bright and strong bolt of red-violet energy down at the dead mage. Calen had to shield his eyes, but not before he saw Krelig’s body explode into a cloud of tiny particles.

“Anders!” Serek said, shocked.

“Best to be sure!” Anders repeated. “I don’t want to have to go through that again, do you?”

As they watched, he started stamping around on the ground where the particles had landed.

They gazed at him in silence for a moment, and then Serek turned back to Calen.

“Are you all right? I know that was a lot to manage, back there. And not very pleasant by the end.”

“I’m all right,” Calen said. He thought he was, anyway. It might be too soon to tell. It hadn’t all really sunk in yet.

“I think,” said Pela, who had suddenly come up beside Meg, “that we should take Apprentice Calen inside to get some rest now.”

“Pela, I could kiss you,” Calen said without thinking. He was startled to see her turn completely scarlet.

“I’ll — I’ll just go and . . . um . . .” She turned and fled toward the castle.

Serek laughed, although he tried unsuccessfully to turn it into a cough.

Anders had returned just in time to witness this. “You have quite an effect on young women, it appears,” he said.

Calen was starting to miss the part where he had been unconscious. “I wasn’t really going to kiss her,” he muttered. He looked desperately at Meg. “Can you help me get inside?”

She grinned at him again. “Stay there. I think we should let the medics take you in. You know how Serek doesn’t believe in healing you all the way.”

Now it was Calen’s turn to laugh.

Serek looked affronted. “Sometimes it’s best to let things heal naturally,” he said. “It’s true! I’m not making that up.”

Calen lay back, still smiling, and waited for someone to come and take him away. It felt really good just to lie there, not having anyone try to kill him for the moment. He hoped it would be a nice long while before anyone tried to kill him again.

M
EG WOKE THE NEXT AFTERNOON, STARTLED
at the odd angle of the sun through her window. She had no idea what time she’d gone to bed, but she thought it had been on the early side. All that borrowed magical energy was a wonderful thing, but when it wore off, it abandoned you completely. She had a vague memory of Pela practically carrying her up the stairs to her room.

Having noticed that Meg was awake, Pela popped brightly up from her chair. “Princess! How are you feeling? Would you like some breakfast?”