BMT belongs to Trudi. Apologies to all readers of this fic, I recently found a chapter I forgot to publish...
Rothen stared into space, the wine glass in his hand was as full as half an hour ago. He was reclining in one of the luxurious armchairs in the underground suite of the thief Ceryni's abode. Sonea's friend lured him to this place with a mysterious letter delivered to his rooms at the Guild.
It had taken hours of roaming in the poorest parts of the city before he found anyone willing to guide him. From retrospect, it had been foolish to don his magicians' robes for such a venture as magicians weren't held in high regard by the inhabitants of the slums. He saw people scurrying out of his way in fear and distrust. He was convinced that he was successful in getting to this place only because he had been expected to come.
The frightful thick-necked bodyguard that had intercepted him down a shadowy alley seemed ill at ease confronted by the unpleasantness of the task. Nevertheless, he approached the magician asking whether he knew how big rodents had grown in this part of the slums. At first, Rothen didn't catch his meaning which frustrated the guide quite a bit. When Rothen was so slow as to propose the Guild take action to rid the small folk of the troublesome infestation, the man rolled his eyes and muttered something about thick-skulled magicians.
Finally, something clicked inside his brain and he hastened to apologise, explaining that he wasn't feeling very well.
"I expected as much," Gol, because that was his name, sighed and took the older man by the arm. "Let us go, Lord Rothen. We mayn't tarry any longer."
And so they went; into the abandoned building and secret passageways under the city streets. After an endless journey through twisting black tunnels Rothen was brought to this room, served food and drink and left alone. The mystery of Cery's summons had kept him too busy to ponder the horrors of the previous days, but now that he was seated and unoccupied he couldn't shake the crushing weight of grief. He wasn't even curious about the reason for this strange invitation.
Eventually, the door cracked open and two men came in. The younger was Sonea's friend. Rothen had seen him only a few times, and at that time he hadn't carried himself so proudly, nor had he been as well dressed as at present. The older looked familiar, but Rothen couldn't remember ever seeing a man with that complexion before. Except through Sonea's thoughts…
"Sachacan!" he exclaimed going pale. He rose to his feet. "What is the meaning of this, Ceryni?"
Cery grinned.
"Don't you know me, Lord Rothen?" the Sachacan bowed courteously. "I am the servant of High Lord Akkarin."
Rothen sucked in a startled breath.
"I… no, I didn't recognize you," he admitted.
Cery met his bewildered gaze and motioned for everyone to sit down so they could talk more comfortably. Rothen sat, his gaze grave.
"I assume you wish for the news of Akkarin and Sonea," he said softly, his chest constricted painfully at the very thought of relaying the events of the previous day.
"No," Cery said, watching the magician with growing apprehension as the beads of sweat were coming out on his face and his breathing sped up considerably. "It is us who have news for you, Lord Rothen."
Rothen gave him a quizzical look, but Cery indicated that Takan should speak.
"My Master wishes you to know that Lady Sonea didn't die as is widely believed," the servant said, watching Rothen anxiously. Rothen's face paled and then became red as the growing pain in his chest prevented his breathing. He clutched at his heart, his eyes bulging. Takan and Cery exchanged worried glances, the servant jumped to Rothen's side to loosen the constricting collar of his inner garment. "My Lord?"
"I... cannot... breathe!" he gasped in a strangled voice. His face was becoming purple.
Takan was distraught. He looked at Cery for help, but the thief only shook his head helplessly. They watched the poor man's struggles for another moment. Finally, Takan rose and retrieved a silver necklace from underneath his tunic. The pendant on the necklace was a small red ruby. He took Rothen's palm and placed the ruby in it.
You have a heart failure, Heal yourself now! Said a commanding and irritable voice inside his head. He blinked and tried to obey, but the lack of oxygen was making him light-headed. For pity's sake, concentrate! With his mind's eye, Rothen beheld a sleeping Sonea curled on a rock ledge in a very uncomfortable pose. Heal! Or do you want her to grieve for you, on top of everything else?! The voice was irate.
Reacting to the consoling image of Sonea, Rothen felt his chest loosen slightly. He gasped in a searing breath, sent his mind inside and began to Heal.
The touch at the edge of his mind was radiating disapproval.
How is it you have a heart failure now, that you get the good news but are fine after the bad!? Akkarin was incredulous.
'I wasn't fine,' Rothen whispered.
Akkarin mulled it over for a minute.
Overdose of nemmin, was it? Akkarin's diagnose was surprisingly apt and Rothen didn't waste energy denying it. Lying through a mind link was a lost cause anyway.
After five minutes of silence, Rothen drew a slow deep breath and opened his eyes to find the two men watching him anxiously.
"Water, My Lord?" asked Takan, holding out a glass of clear liquid.
"Thank you," he accepted the drink gratefully.
"Feeling better?" Cery enquired of the pale man. Rothen nodded between sips. Cery got up and Takan followed. "We'll leave you to your chat. Knock on the door when you're done."
Rothen watched as the two men departed the room and sighed.
"Sonea lives? She's sleeping now?"
Akkarin ignored the question.
When you return to the Guild, you will inform Lady Vinara that you require treatment for nemmin addiction. Is that understood?
Rothen's back stiffened.
'You dare to give me commands? As who?!'
As someone who has plenty of experience deadening himself to the pain. You will do it. For her.
Rothen slumped in his chair.
'Aye, I'll do it. Now tell me about Sonea,' he asked.
She's resting. Not very comfortably, I'll grant you, but there isn't much we can do to remedy that… Rothen froze the image in his mind, unable to look away from her face.
If I knew you'd react so crazily, I wouldn't have bothered… Akkarin was still fuming, but Rothen barely noticed. Only, she would hate every minute of your worrying needlessly.
Rothen chuckled, but the brief moment of merriment was immediately followed by annoyance.
"And why would you care?" he demanded irritably.
The presence in Rothen's mind withdrew into itself cautiously. After a long pause, he could again feel Akkarin's mind touch, but this time the contact was much more reserved.
Rothen took another sip of water in an attempt to calm his racing thoughts.
"Would you tell me how Sonea managed to escape? I bore witness to her utter exhaustion," he said softly.
Akkarin projected a mixture of conflicting emotions, ranging from amusement to irritation, to pride.
She didn't escape, he replied after a pause. She managed to kill the bastard.
When Rothen was confused and highly indignant at the black magician's criticism of his ex-protégée, Akkarin chuckled internally and lounged into the story. He told it without embellishments and in as much detail as was possible, but left out the specifics of Sonea's triumph explaining that Rothen's mind wasn't a safe place with the oncoming invasion of the Ichani.
They discussed the situation of the Allied Lands in general and Rothen was struck by feelings of despair and utter hopelessness the other man projected.
"We stand no chance," he sighed gravely. "The united might of the Guild will be broken within hours."
Yes, there is no hope of you prevailing against such an enemy. Akkarin confirmed in resignation.
"And if you are called back?"
I wouldn't count on that. The king feels betrayed by me, and not without good cause. He won't ever trust me again. He seemed to choose his next words with care. Kyralia's only hope is for the guild to relearn black magic now – if that is possible without a teacher, or to evacuate the city and return only after it regains that knowledge.
Rothen was appalled by this choice.
"Either we embrace what we most hate, or we risk obliteration of that which we are sworn to protect."
You appreciate the gravity of the situation.
Akkarin's mental voice was full of bitterness. Rothen was felt a sudden conviction that indeed both Akkarin and Sonea made sacrifices to protect Kyralia. Sonea hadn't been deceived but made an informed decision despite the high price she was paying now.
"What do you want me to do?"
Nothing. Return to the guild, be convincing in your mourning, observe and advice where you see fit. I shall attempt to send Sonea back, if she obeys which she recently forgot how to do. Await news of her from the Fort.
Rothen felt a thrill of hope, immediately followed by realization that it'd never work.
"I don't think she'll obey this time either."
Akkarin was annoyed but Rothen could sense he was afraid the older magician had the right of it.
If so, when the fighting starts remove yourself to a place of safety so your mind cannot betray us.
"You want me to abandon the guild?" Rothen was outraged at the suggestion. The dishonor of it!
Akkarin was silent for a long minute.
The guild thinks Sonea is dead, so do the Ichani. If she proves as stubborn as you believe her to be, it'll be better to remain so. He hesitated before continuing. Better for Sonea, better for Kyralia and the guild.
Rothen considered his words, searching the hidden meaning. He sucked in a startled breath.
"You would return to Kyralia without the king's leave?"
Only silence answered him.