Lorlen sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk slowly, his eyes wide with shock at what he'd just heard. He rested his forehead on one hand, propping his elbow on his desk.
"My friend, I know this is a lot to take it, but time is of the essence," Akkarin murmured quietly. Sonea stood a few paces back, her ear to the office door.
Akkarin had just explained to Lorlen that the Guild could expect an attack from the Ichani, and briefly gone over who they were. He hadn't told Lorlen that he knew all this because he had been enslaved; instead he had implied that during his travels, he had spent considerable time in Sachaka's capital Arvice, and that had led him to learn more about these dangerous outcasts. He told Lorlen that he had contacts in Sachaka, acquaintances he had sustained since his return to Kyralia, who sent him reports of the Ichani from time to time. And that now, what he had thought very unlikely – the Ichani growing bold enough to invade – had come to pass.
It was a succinct but effective explanation. He'd have made quite the lord of the underworld, had he been a dwell, Sonea couldn't help but thinking to herself with a smile as she stood guard by Lorlen's door. Akkarin had spared any parts of the story that could raise suspicions about black magic – such as how he had managed to escape slavery – while still truthfully giving Lorlen an impression of the Ichani's motives, power and aims.
"So these Sachakan rogues… they use black magic?" Lorlen whispered.
"All Sachakan magicians do; they call it higher magic."
"So all Sachakan magicians have over tenfold the power of an average Guild magician?"
"Yes, but remember that Ichani do not answer to the Sachakan King, while the Ashaki, his landowner magicians, do. We're dealing with outcasts who have nothing to lose and much to gain. Including, they think, a hero's welcome back in Arvice if they conquer the Guild," Akkarin explained quickly and quietly. "In short, we cannot resolve this diplomatically, Lorlen. The Ichani do not answer to Arvice. And they're coming."
Lorlen looked incredulous. "So we have no choice but to prepare for an all-out magical battle in – what – mere days? Against seven black magicians with the power of seventy of us?"
Suddenly, all three of them winced at the sound of a booming voice resounding in their heads. "KYRALIANS! I HAVE COME FOR WHAT IS MINE!"
Akkarin's face darkened. "Kariko," he whispered.
The taunting voice mentally projected several images into their heads. First, it was Lord Sorkin and his handful of men in the South Pass, all lying dead and drained of power. Then an image of rolling green fields and a river, seen from a high altitude – the first glimpse of Kyralia as seen from the mountainous border.
"Your pathetic excuses for magicians were easy to kill. Your Guild is next, Akkarin! Vengeance will be mine," Kariko's booming mental voice was chilling in its cold glee.
Sonea and Akkarin glanced grimly at one another. Lorlen grew pale as a ghost. Before any of them could react, the door of the Administrator's office flew open to reveal a wide-eyed and disheveled Lord Balkan and Lord Harkin.
Akkarin straightened to his full height and looked calmly at the two Warriors. "Lord Harkin. Gather every Warrior to the Day Room now, please. Lord Balkan, please stay here so we can brief you on what is happening."
Lord Harkin fled the room, looking relieved to have been assigned a task, and Lord Balkan shut the door behind him. Despite looking quite pale, his hands and voice were the steady ones of a seasoned Warrior. "You know who these attackers are, High Lord?"
"Yes, I do. However, I will leave the Administrator to explain what I have just told him. I must now instruct my contacts in the city to prepare their defences. I will meet you all in half an hour in the Day Room, where we can strategise next steps."
Balkan met Akkarin's dark eyes with a flash of suspicion at how prepared the High Lord seemed to be in the face of this shocking event. The stiff set of his jaw suggested he had plenty of questions yet.
Balkan's piercing gaze now latched onto Sonea with curiosity. "It would be safer for your Consort to remain in your residence, would it not, High Lord? The enemy singled you out in his mental communication just now. He may be seeking to avenge himself on you and yours."
His tone was of polite concern, but there were two unmistakeable implications in his comments. One, that he had noted the familiarity in Kariko's threat – as if he knew Akkarin personally. Second, that a mere novice should not be privy to the deliberations of the Higher Magicians.
Akkarin raised an eyebrow at Balkan's words. "Sonea is not to leave my side," he replied with quiet finality. "As for Kariko, I've heard of him. And it's hardly surprising he knows my name, Lord Balkan. I am, after all, the High Lord of the Magician's Guild of Kyralia." The threat was barely detectable in his silky tone.
Akkarin held his gaze confidently and calmly until the Head of Warriors nodded his acceptance. Sonea was grateful that Balkan, often at polite loggerheads with Akkarin in most situations, had the Warrior's instinct of putting aside personal tensions in the face of a bigger threat. Sonea followed Akkarin's swift strides out of Lorlen's office.
There were magicians frantically beginning to leave their quarters and gather in groups to talk after experiencing the horrific mental communication. Akkarin ducked into the hidden passageways to avoid being seen. This was no time to be waylaid by questions.
They walked in silence downwards until Sonea could feel the temperature change, which suggested they were now out of the Magician's Quarters and under the Guild grounds.
When Akkarin paused by a door, listening intently, Sonea took the opportunity to reach out to grasp his hand, and communicate privately mind-to-mind.
– Do you think our arrangement with the Thieves will work? What if the Ichani don't separate when they reach Imardin?
– I've learned not to underestimate the Thieves, Akkarin replied, a faint tinge of amusement in his thoughts. We've told your friend Ceryni and his associates exactly what they are up against, but that hasn't deterred them. They're brave. Then his mental tone sobered. If I know Kariko and the Ichani, they will seek to compete with each other, even during the invasion. The Thieves will launch our agreed moves as soon as the Ichani separate, and I believe they will.
Sonea nodded to show she understood without having to make a sound in the dark and silent passage. They stood still for another minute, then they heard what Akkarin was waiting for: a coded series of quiet knocks on the other side of the door. Satisfied, Akkarin opened it and beckoned for Sonea to follow. They were in a relatively well furnished, but still cold, sitting room. Cery, Gol, and two other men were standing in the room.
"High Lord," Cery nodded, and his mouth twitched at Sonea in a strained smile. He tilted his head toward the two men Sonea didn't recognise. "This is Enka and his second. He'll handle the baiting when we have them in position."
Akkarin nodded respectfully to the large man with big, melancholy brown eyes, much like his namesake. "They may rob the Palace, ransack the Houses for food and wine, or seek out women and boys for their pleasure," Akkarin explained. Sonea winced at the thought. "All will be opportunities to lure them into the traps we've planned," Akkarin continued. "Have you put out the word that anyone able to should head to the dockside?"
"Yes. Some of our kin are helping dwells to the Marina as we speak," Enka replied.
"Good," Akkarin replied. "With the Palace and Inner Circle between them and the Tarali River, the Ichani should be slowed down by the prospect of loot, then finished off by us and the Guild before they can make their way to the docks. Anyone who can take a boat right now from Imardin should, however. There will be a rush once the Guild tells the Houses to evacuate."
"Understood," Cery nodded brusquely. "Shall we move into positions?"
"Not yet – continue to help evacuate until tomorrow. We have two or three days before they reach Imardin. They have slaves and supplies in carts; it'll slow them down," Akkarin replied. He glanced up at Sonea. "We must return to the Guild now."
He and Cery grasped hands briefly, to Sonea's surprise. Even in the presence of the tall, imposing figure that Akkarin cut with his agile Warrior's stride and black robes, Cery held his own, despite his smaller build. He really is a man of the underworld now. How far we have come from clambering on the rooftops of Northside, Sonea couldn't help thinking fondly.
"Sonea." Akkarin's voice was a touch more curt that necessary, jolting her out of her thoughts. He was holding open the door back into the dark passageway, and he lifted an eyebrow in impatience. Her face warmed as she realised she had been distracted by thoughts of the past, and hoped Akkarin hadn't misread the fondness for Cery in her thoughts as anything but a friendly memory.
"Bye," she muttered to Cery, who responded to her anxious face with a flashy grin.
"See you round, Sonea" he said cheerfully. Sonea got the feeling that he was trying to reassure her that all would be well. As she followed Akkarin back down the secret passages in the direction of the Guild grounds, she couldn't help but worry that, for once, Cery may really be underestimating what he was up against. She shook her head to get rid of the thought that he, Jonna and Ranel may die in the coming days.
Akkarin paused and turned around to check on her, perhaps sensing where her thoughts had gone. She looked up to find his pale, chiseled face looking like it was floating in the dark. His black eyes were studying her intently. That slight line appeared between his brows.
"Courage, Sonea, courage," he whispered, placing his hands on either side of her waist to gently pull her towards him.
Sonea gratefully tilted up her face, eager to feel his lips on hers to steady her emotions and thoughts. It felt like a lifetime ago that they were sharing a kiss in the library before bed, thought it had only been a few hours. They stood still in the dark, cold passage for a moment, only the sound of their breathing surrounding them and the warmth of each other's lips on their own.
– What if Balkan and the others don't agree to your plan? What if they start to suspect we, too, know black magic? Sonea sent him mentally as she gripped his hand. Even though they were all alone in the passages, they had agreed that they couldn't be too careful whenever they mentioned black magic.
– If they won't agree with my plan, I'll need to try my best to deter them from wasting our best and brightest in an open confrontation. Akkarin's expression grew a touch darker, and his gaze was locked into the gloom behind Sonea. He continued.
– Ever since I was elected High Lord, I have avoided being heavy-handed with my authority. Never have I overridden due process and consultation, even though the High Lord can do so, especially in exceptional circumstances like war. Maybe I feared stepping into the role fully would somehow corrupt me. That once I'd had a taste of the power to dictate what the Guild does and doesn't, I could become a tyrant.
Sonea rested a hand gently on the side of his face until his dark gaze pulled away from the distance and locked into her own. – How can you say that, when you have been secretly facing dangers for years trying to protect them? And you've been the most powerful magician in Kyralia for years. You've had the King's ear. If power was to corrupt you it would have by now.
She was relieved to see the corner of Akkarin's lips curl up into that familiar half-smile. – I wish I had your faith in me, Sonea.
– You should. I have complete faith in you. And sometimes I still cannot believe how things have turned out, she replied, smiling up at him.
– You mean fighting rogue magicians with the man who held you hostage? Akkarin's smile faded and a cold look entered his eyes.
– Feeling more powerful than I ever have, defending my city, next to the man I love, Sonea replied firmly. She willed him to sense the truth of her words by keeping her mental barriers open and allowing him easy access to her surface thoughts.
His gaze softened and he stroked Sonea's cheek with his long, elegant fingers. – I'm still their High Lord: perhaps it is time I try and use whatever sway that holds to convince them that my – our – plan is their best chance of victory. There will be losses, but much fewer than an open battle, if they agree to it.
They paused for a moment, enjoying holding one another in the dark and quiet passageway. It felt like precious moments of peace snatched before the storm.
"Let's go," Akkarin breathed eventually, letting go of Sonea's waist and grasping her hand to lead the way down the tunnel. Sonea hadn't taken this route before, and guessed it would lead them to the Seven Arches, where the Day Room, the Night Room and the Banquet Room were located.
She hitched up her skirts to keep pace with Akkarin, her breathing shallowing in anticipation. Please, please let them believe Akkarin, and let them listen to our plan, she thought desperately as the passageway tilted upwards, leading above ground.
