Author's Notes: I kind of finished this in a rush this evening, so if there are errors, I apologize. Three more chapters.
"I don't understand why this isn't working."
Kalibose squinted his eyes at the spellbook in front of him until the runes danced before his eyes. It still didn't reveal why the circle they were casting could not be made mobile, or why it was limited to such a small space. He pinched the bridge of his nose against an encroaching headache. It had been two weeks since the trip to Eldre'thelas, and they had made absolutely no progress on protection spells. He scowled crossly at Merrick, who was idly setting bits of brush on fire beside him. No thanks at all to him.
Whatever had happened in the upper rooms with the Archmage, Kalibose was pretty sure he would never hear the whole story. But what he did know was that Merrick was changed somehow. He was more distant. He had lost some of his passion for magic: he had several times declined doing spellwork late at night, and then had disappeared for hours at a time with no explanation. Before when he did this, he would come back with a new magical artifact or something else acquired during his absence. But now he gave nothing but distracted silence. The most emotion Kalibose had gotten out of him was when he had asked him to utilize his newfound amplifying power on the protective circle, and Merrick had stared at him with flashing eyes. ("I can't just use it by myself, it takes a bond, you idiot. Why don't you use your fancy-ass tattoos? Can't, can you?")
Merrick must have felt his eyes on him, because he snuffed his latest fire between his hands and scooted closer.
"I don't think you are going to get anything out of that book that you haven't already."
His leg was pressed up against his and it was horribly distracting. There was a minute flash of electric blue as he met his eyes under the hood of his cloak. "Now we have to get creative."
Kalibose shut the book in disgust, more to give his hands something to do than anything else. "We have been creative. We have tried this circle inside out, backwards, and standing on our heads. It's not going to work. We need something else."
Merrick hummed in an absent-minded manner as he took the book from him. Kalibose watched him as he ran his finger over the spine of the book and then the edges. He wasn't really doing anything to help-he was just here, with him, and it was simultaneously comforting and made him want to crawl out of his skin. In fact, most things made him want to crawl out of his skin lately: he wasn't sure whether it was his magical tattoos in juxtaposition with Merrick's magical tattoos, or just the other apprentice himself, but he found himself more restless than ever. It made his days long and his nights longer: on the nights that he would sleep, he would wake abruptly, his mind racing and his heart fit to burst from his chest. Most nights though, he didn't sleep at all, and the day slipped into the next with no break and no relief. That was his reason for being out here right now: he didn't know if he'd ever get the protection circle right or for that matter, anything to help him out of this situation. But casting calmed him: feeling the magic move through him scratched the itches inside of him that he didn't even know he had. Some days, when it was dark outside and darker inside of him, he thought that would be all that he would ever had, and that was enough for him.
Abruptly, he pushed himself to standing and and stretched. Sitting up against Merrick made it worse, and he needed to move again. He paced back and forth a few times on the small balcony, then glanced up at the sky. One corner of it was getting lighter than the rest; dawn was approaching. They could always see it earlier up here where the sky stretched out for miles in all directions. They technically had over an hour left before call, but they had already gotten a whole lot of nothing done that night, and wouldn't get anything else done in that time. He sighed, already thinking through how to waste the time laying in bed.
"Let's go in."
Merrick followed him without protest, carrying the book and his mind on another planet.
The call came at the normal time, but Kalibose was already awake waiting for it. He ended up being one of the first in line to head over to the laboratory, and Lorenath gave him a strange look as he led the way down the hallway.
He could tell as soon as he walked through the doorway that something was very, very wrong.
Just like in the upper rooms above, all the alchemy tables had been pushed to the side so that there was a large empty space in the middle. Darien and Tiranen were on their knees and appeared to be painting runes on the floor. The Archmage had his back to everyone, but as soon as they were all in, he turned around with a flourish. Behind them, the doors slammed shut and Kalibose jumped.
"Good morning, my illustrious pupils! Today promises to be a breakthrough day, a most important day!"
Mannerel appeared to be completely thrilled with himself and it made Kalibose feel ill to his stomach. He paced slowly in front of the dais as the apprentices huddled together in a group. Kalibose sensed Merrick slip up beside him: his electrifying presence was unmistakable.
"I have been working nearly nonstop on a revolutionary spell. One that will have applications across Azeroth. One that already has some very interested buyers contacting me. But I am not the sole person responsible for this."
To his horror, Archmage Mannerel gestured to him and it was like a spotlight was shining down. Kalibose froze, pinned to the spot with the looks of his fellow apprentices. The only person who was not looking at him was Merrick. The other apprentice was staring past Mannerel, to the dais, with a terrifying blank look on his face. Kalibose had seen that look before, and tried to look past the Archmage to see what Merrick saw.
"Our very own Kalibose, whom I rescued from the dreadful beasts of Stonetalon. Kalibose, abandoned by his family and banished from his homeland. Look what your magnificent hands have helped wrought."
It was hard to see, but directly behind the Archmage was a faintly glowing cylinder that went all the way up to the ceiling. It might have even gone through the ceiling, but at that moment the Archmage took a step out of the way and gestured to it. At the bottom of the cylinder huddled a tiny figure. Kalibose felt ice start in the pit of his stomach and go all the way down his legs. The child, because that's who it was, stood up and put their hands on the sides of the magical enclosure. It was all rags, dirty purple skin, teal hair, and huge, scared eyes, and Kalibose knew he had to run, knew he had to escape this monstrous event unfolding in front of him, but his legs were frozen to the ground, and his intelligent thought had completely evaporated. Somewhere behind him, he heard a horrified gasp. Mannerel strode up to the magical cylinder and tapped on it as if it were glass. The child shrank away from him and closed their eyes.
"Don't you see, Kalibose, how alive and well our little friend is? He endured indescribable pain, and woke a few hours later with no side effects. The spell was a complete success."
Without turning around, the Archmage made a gesture behind him. "All the exits are sealed, Merrick. There is no way out."
Kalibose unfroze enough to see Merrick standing beside the side door that led to the storage rooms. He hadn't noticed him slipping away, but apparently the Archmage did. He turned around and gave Merrick a winning smile before gesturing to him again.
"And you are going to help perfect the spell, you traitorous little bastard."
Merrick yelped as he was drug slowly forward by Mannerel's magic. Kalibose tried somewhere inside of him to find that fighting spirit that had pushed him before, but it was too overwhelmed to be useful. He felt a compulsion to walk forward, and although he tried to resist, he found himself taking one step, then another, until he was climbing up onto the dais and standing next to Merrick. Merrick, for all his bravado, for all his excitement at having a magic-infused tattoo, stood stock still, his eyes closed and tears running down his face silently. Mannerel had one hand on his face, and he put the other on Kalibose's shoulder.
Almost instantly Kalibose felt a shock of power unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was the arcane: it was bitter and made the inside of his mouth dry, and he felt again that strong revulsion like the last time Mannerel had made him cast the spell against the boy. But this time it was tempered with something else. Something fiery, something quick and intelligent and scrappy and something that smelled of ozone and looked like almost black hair and too-bright eyes, felt like desperation and tasted like tears. He realized, at the same time that the magic hit his system too hard and fast and made him retch violently to the side, that the Archmage was powering the spell with the amplifier that was Merrick. He was literally infused in the spell: he heard the other apprentice cry out as his body was used as a battery, as a power cable, as something that a mortal being, and especially an adolescent, should never be used as. And then every other thought left Kalibose's head, because he could feel the first shooting pain that was sent through him to the victim of their spell, and the child started to scream.
After what felt like hours later, long after the child had collapsed sobbing onto the ground and Kalibose felt as if he would never be clean again, Mannerel eased them out of the spell. Kalibose leaned onto his knees, tasting vomit in his throat and gasping for air. He barely caught a glimpse of Merrick fainting dead away onto the ground. Kalibose was more than worn out and disgusted this time though: he was angry. He panted, feeling a fire start in the middle of his chest, and when the Archmage pivoted on his feet to survey the damage wrought by his spell, he stood abruptly and swung. He knew that fighting magic with fists was useless, but he did not care. He had been violated, other people had been used, children had been hurt. He wanted to hit the Archmage until there was nothing left of his face. He put every ounce of his anger into his swing, and felt some residual arcane left in his system accent it as well.
Faster than he thought was possible, the Archmage turned and caught his hand with his own. He held it casually, as if it was nothing to restrain a raging apprentice with violence on his mind. Instead of tossing him away, Mannerel pulled him closer, until Kalibose was caught about the chest with one arm, and by the hand with the other. The Archmage smiled his sickening smile, and Kalibose thought he might vomit again.
"Oh Kalibose. You don't understand."
On the floor beside him, he heard Merrick moan as he regained consciousness. Mannerel glanced down at him, then back to Kalibose. He spoke only a few inches from his face.
"You will never escape me. None of you do. I own you."
The older man pulled back, studying him for a moment. Kalibose felt his stomach drop to the floor.
"I've been rethinking the state of your face. Soon you will be mine completely."
Without warning Mannerel let him go. Kalibose stumbled at the sudden lack of support. He stared at the back of the mage's cloak as he strode purposefully from the dais, down the steps, and out the door, which was magically open again. Kalibose glanced to where the child had finally given up consciousness, and saw that he was gone. Slowly he sunk to the ground, wrapped his arms around himself, and shook.