"Please, give him all you can! I don't need any, I haven't used last night's," Sonea said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Akkarin, who was sitting down in exhaustion, his black robes dark grey with rubble and dust, gestured as if to say no. Sonea stood by his chair, pushing down the urge to shout. She locked her eyes onto Savara, who looked at her, green eyes piercing, her face grim. "Please."
Savara sighed and nodded. She grasped Akkarin's hand before he could pull away, and Sonea felt the steady flow of power moving through her arm.
"That's… enough…" Akkarin said in a quiet voice, but Savara ignored him.
"Don't worry, High Lord, I have my own reserves. Use this and heal yourself – you're no good to any of us dead," Savara replied dryly, and Sonea managed a small smile at the scolding tone. It reminded her of Jonna's no-nonsense moods.
Earlier, when Akkarin had stumbled into their hideaway rooms covered in dust and almost drained to exhaustion, Sonea had felt her mind freeze in fear. She had witnessed the battle through Akkarin's blood ring, and knew he had survived the blast that had killed Takiro. But she had still paced up and down the room until he had finally entered the Thieves Road and made his way back to them. When he arrived, she had rushed to hold him up as he stumbled to a seat right before his exhaustion caught up with him.
It wasn't until she could see the slight colour returning to his face as Savara's magic flowed into him that Sonea felt she finally drew a shaky breath. The images Akkarin had sent through the blood ring had been harrowing. Sonea knew through Lorlen's reports, relayed to them by Akkarin, that the Alchemists had prepared explosive weapons. But she wasn't prepared to see so many Warriors mutilated and burned in such a grotesque way. Before the shock of that could register, Akkarin had stepped out to confront the Ichani, and watching that, unable to do anything, had been some of the worst moments of her life.
Savara finally withdrew her hand. Akkarin seemed to have some life back in his eyes, and was sitting a bit more upright. "Thank you," he said to Savara, nodding.
"There's a bath ready through here," Cery said, standing at the doorway of the bedroom that Sonea had recovered in the previous day.
Akkarin stood up slowly, giving Sonea's hand a reassuring squeeze. She wanted to fling her arms around him but she could tell he was in no mood yet to recount what had happened, or discuss what they were to do about the other two Ichani. He strode silently towards the bathroom, leaving Cery, Savara and Sonea in the sitting area.
Sonea frowned in worry. She knew Akkarin had gone out there today hoping that all three Ichani would leave the Palace to confront Balkan's Warrior unit, but that hadn't happened. They had taken one more Ichani down, but Sonea knew Akkarin would be thinking they were now at a disadvantage. Kivara and Kariko, the remaining two Ichani, were the most powerful ones. Still holed up in the Palace, they had no doubt witnessed the battle outside the gates, and now they knew not to fall for the Guild's Alchemic weapon.
"Here. Get that in you."
Sonea started as if moved out of a trance, and looked up to see Savara was holding out a glass of wine.
They sat companionably for a moment, sipping quietly. Sonea noticed Savara showed no signs whatsoever of having given so much of her power twice in one day. The Sachakan woman noticed the thoughtful look in Sonea's eyes and gave her a conspiratorial smile.
"Don't you worry about me, Sonea. I have plenty more where that came from." Her hand went to the gemstone necklace at her neck. The beautiful black stone gleamed in the candlelight.
Sonea raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "The stone? But how – "
"You wouldn't expect me to give away all my secrets, now, would you?" Savara asked good-naturedly, leaning back into the comfortable armchair and taking another sip of her wine. "You Kyralians have your Healing, and we have… our own ways with magic. We, too, guard our knowledge closely."
Sonea looked into the glow of the fire, crackling gently in the grate. "I would have liked to learn all there is to learn about the different kinds of magic out there."
"So did your High Lord, many years ago."
"Is that how you first met? In Sachaka?" Sonea asked, looking back at Savara.
Her eyes seemed to hold Sonea's in a silent confirmation, but her words gave nothing away. "It's his story to tell."
Sonea returned to silently staring at the fire until Savara sighed and set aside her wine glass. "Sonea, I have fought more battles than you have, and let me tell you, worrying doesn't make it go any faster. All it does is wear you out, and if you can't focus at the critical moment, it'll likely be the last moment you'll ever have."
Cery threw Savara a reproachful look as if to say, oh, let her be.
Savara gave a slight shrug. "Why don't you join the High Lord in that bath. Then we can all strategise next steps with calm minds," she said to Sonea, who turned slightly pink at the suggestion. Cery rolled his eyes.
"I think I will," Sonea muttered, setting aside her glass and walking towards the bedroom door.
She shut the door behind her to the sound of Savara and Cery's low murmurings. As she approached the room beyond the bedroom where she could faintly hear the sound of water, she hesitated. Does Akkarin want to be alone? She wondered.
He was a difficult man to gauge. Over the past few months, she had grown used to his tendency to withdraw into silence when he needed to think. That cold, unapproachable air she had always seen before he became his novice, Sonea now knew, hid beneath it a man of strong passions. But it was still difficult, even after all they had shared, to tell whether he wanted solitude or company.
She killed some time by undressing down to her undergarments, rustling her black dress a little loudly before draping it on a chair.
"You can come in, you know," she heard Akkarin's quiet voice say from the bathroom. Relieved to hear the strength had returned to his tone, Sonea walked in. Akkarin was in the plain but large bathtub, his silky black hair loose. The wet strands were stuck to his shapely neck and shoulders. He looked up at her with black eyes they were a little tired, but the slight curl of his lip was welcoming. Sonea shyly smiled back as she removed her undergarments and stepped into the bathtub.
The water was a little murky from the dust that had come off his body, but it was comfortably hot. Sonea sighed as she sat back, only realising how tense her body and mind had been until they began to relax in the heat.
He looked at her silently, his eyes glinting. Sonea looked back into them for a moment, but for some reason, it made a lump settle into her throat. She quickly looked away. "I thought I'd lost you," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry," he whispered back. They sat in silence for a while, with only the slight hiss from a candle disturbing the quiet. Neither of them had wasted any power with globelights since they had gone underground.
"You can't keep me in here until the battle is over, you know," Sonea said, her gaze still locked on the still and calm water between them. "This is my city to defend, too. It's my Guild, too."
"You shielded Enka and the boys at their ambush yesterday. I didn't prevent you from going," Akkarin replied, his tone a little reproachful.
"No, you didn't," Sonea acknowledged, looking back up to hold his gaze. "But you know what I mean, Akkarin. The next confrontation is the final one."
Akkarin's eyes grew softer. "Yes, it is the final one," he said quietly.
The sat in silence for a while. Then Akkarin slowly reached out and traced Sonea's cheek with a finger, leaving a trail of water. "Sometimes I cannot help but feel like I stole your life from you. Made you a black magician. Mistress to a man thirteen years your senior. Placed you in a battle against those seeking vengeance against me." A hardness crept into his voice, like an icy blade he was directing against himself.
"Things I chose every step of the way," Sonea replied emphatically, her black eyebrows furrowing at the intensity of the emotions his words had provoked. She reached up and held his hand tight to her cheek, looking into his eyes.
"I've been selfish, Sonea," Akkarin's gaze darkened in anger. "Just as I was when I went travelling all those years ago, thinking the consequences of my actions wouldn't come back to haunt me. I thought only of power, then I was enslaved and tasted complete powerlessness for five years. When you came into my life, I thought only of my own desires, then I ended up leading you into this disaster."
Sonea's heart felt like it was breaking. She could fight enemies, but she could not fight the thoughts in Akkarin's head. And his thoughts were wrong, so wrong. How could he not see how alive she had felt for the past half year?
Her gaze grew fiery and she gripped his hand tighter. "When you taught me black magic, it felt like I was discovering my power all over again. How it lives in my body, and how it lives in everything around us. And your desires – do you think they weren't also mine? Do you even know how you make me feel?" Her whisper was fierce. "Don't you dare think I was swept into all of this blindly. My eyes are wide open. I love you, and I will defend our home."
Akkarin's eyes smouldered. He reached for her and pulled her face close to his. Water sloshed down the sides of the bathtub but neither of them noticed or cared as they kissed deeply, desperately.
When they pulled apart, breathless, Sonea shivered slightly – whether from the way Akkarin was looking at her, or the water that was now quite cool, she couldn't tell. He noticed and slowly stood, getting out of the bathtub. He gave her that half-smiled of his and reached out a hand to help Sonea out.
She couldn't help but return his small smile as she glanced at the water running down the matted black hair on his chiseled chest and abdomen. Taking his hand, she eased herself out of the tub and shivered. Akkarin took down a linen sheet from the shelf nearby and wrapped Sonea in it.
After drying up and getting dressed, they joined Savara and Cery in the sitting room, but not before sharing another silent, passionate kiss. All the words had been said, and nothing remained but to face what was to come. Together.
—
Lorlen winced as he walked into the Healer's Quarters. People were rushing about, shouting orders and carrying supplies. Twelve of the thirty in Balkan's Warrior contingent had returned, most with severe injuries. One of the two Healers who had gone with the group had also been killed. Rothen, thankfully, had returned, but he was unconscious when Lorlen saw him being carried in. Even though Lorlen had known this was war, somehow it wasn't until this massacre that it had all sunk in.
The Guild had now lost a combined twenty-seven magicians between the ambush in Coldbridge and today's mission to the palace, most of this number some of their best Warriors. It was harrowing to think it had cost them so many lives to finish off just three Ichani, with the Thieves having killed another two.
Our predecessors were reckless to leave us vulnerable to black magic like this, Lorlen thought yet again. With every passing day, he had been growing angrier to see that Akkarin had been right. Angry with the Guild for allowing this vulnerability. But also, Lorlen could admit, anger at himself for his earlier fear towards his friend. I should have trusted Akkarin. I should have shared the burden of his secret before it came to this…
Lorlen sighed. It was much, much too late to be thinking that. All he could do now was trust in his friend's plan.
There were only two Ichani left, but the latest reports said they seemed to be collapsing parts of the Palace. While this piece of intelligence had been shrugged off by Vinara and Sarrin, who thought the Ichani must be on a rampage, Lorlen had grown pale at the messenger's news. Akkarin had explained to him that black magicians could draw power from anything, and Lorlen had realised with dread that the Ichani weren't destroying the Palace: they were drawing all the magic in its structure. And from what Lorlen recalled of that lavish estate, there was a lot to draw.
He jumped as he heard a senior Healer loudly shout, "Lord Balkan! I must insist you stay for an examination…"
Lorlen saw the Head of Warriors stride out of a room, his red robes bloodied and covered in dust, his face grim. The senior Healer stood at the doorway, an exasperated look on her face. Then she was called away to attend to the other injured.
Balkan strode up to Lorlen. "Administrator. We need to regroup and re-strategise. Draw the remaining two Ichani out of the Palace without endangering the Guild. I need to make contact with the High Lord."
"I – I'm afraid I do not know where he is, Lord Balkan. You said he appeared during your attack?" Lorlen stuttered. He was a terrible liar, and Balkan looked battle-charged and ferocious.
"He did, and struck the killing blow. I see his approach is effective in its stealth, but we now need to work together. I assure you, I will be discreet. I just need to get a message to him."
Lorlen was torn. He could relay a message to Akkarin easily through the blood gem; and if he didn't reply, he could try Sonea's blood gem. But Akkarin had expressly instructed that he could only execute his plans if he had the element of surprise. I've let Akkarin down already, and he was proven right. I must now trust that he knows what he is doing, Lorlen decided.
"I'm sorry, Lord Balkan, I do not know where the High Lord is. If he showed up to your attack, he clearly has his own ways of knowing what is going on. Maybe he will contact us?" Lorlen said, hoping he sounded convincing.
Balkan heaved an impatient sigh, looking around at the rushing Healers. "This is not helpful, Administrator. I am charged with the defence of this Guild and I cannot be kept in the dark," he replied sternly. Luckily, Lorlen was saved when Lady Vinara strode towards them. "If you'll excuse me…" Balkan left to talk to the Head of Healers.
Lorlen tried not to look too relieved as he left the Healer's Quarters and quickly headed back to his office. He had already prepared a small bag, as instructed, with the Guild's most valuable documents. His heart was sore, but it was time to leave.
He would, at least, keep the last promise he'd made to Akkarin.