Dorrien awoke slowly. He first became aware of a pounding in his head, but his body soon made him aware of a number of other injuries as well. He frowned, wondering why he had not self-healed some of his bruises away. "Easy, my lord," an unfamiliar voice said as he tried to push himself to a seated position. "You've had quite the beating. You might want to rest a bit longer." Dorrien forced his eyes open to see a man sitting above him who he did not recognize. He wore the clothing of a reberherder, similar to that of many of the men in Dorrien's village, but Dorrien knew he did not live in Gallia.
With that realization, the events of the previous day came rushing back to him. He remembered Lord Grongen's call followed by his hard ride to help. He remembered the man who attacked him, destroying his shield in three blows. And he remembered the helplessness as the man had cut his arm and pressed a hand to the injury before Dorrien even thought to heal it. None of that explained, however, where Dorrien was or how he had gotten there. "What is going on?" he questioned, pushing himself up despite his protesting head.
"A magician attacked us," the man who had spoken earlier explained. "He killed many of the villagers, including Lord Grongen, and most of the rest fled. Then he bound nine of us with his magic before cutting our arms and doing. . . something. He did the same thing to you, too, when you fought him. We thought he'd killed you, but the other magician said you'd wake up."
"Other magician?" Dorrien asked. The man nodded toward the corner where a tall man in dark robes sat, his eyes focused on a prone figure in the corner of the building. Dorrien frowned. No one in the Guild wore black robes anymore, for it reminded them too much of the events of almost five years before. The man suddenly glanced in Dorrien's direction, and he gasped in recognition. "What is he doing here?" Dorrien growled.
Dorrien's feelings for the black magician were somewhat mixed though generally more negative than positive. He would not deny that the man had helped save Kyralia even after the Guild had banished him, but he also blamed the former High Lord for putting them in the situation in the first place. In addition, Dorrien could not forgive the man for what he had done to Sonea. From the beginning, he had controlled her. He had forced her to become his novice, forced her to learn black magic, forced her to fight and almost die, and then forced her to leave the safety of the Guild with him for some undisclosed location where he would probably get her killed. In fact, he probably already got her killed, for Dorrien did not see her nearby, and she had previously displayed an unexplained devotion to the man that bordered on obsession.
Dorrien took a deep breath, trying to forget the past. It would do him no good to think of Sonea. She had made her choices and with them had made it very clear that he had no part in her life. Dorrien had moved past her—he had even married the previous year to a woman he loved very much who helped him out a great deal in his rural clinic. Despite that, however, the sight of Akkarin brought back a number of painful memories and feelings Dorrien would just as soon have forgotten.
Realizing that his companion was saying something, Dorrien focused on his words in enough time to hear, "Saving us. He arrived a few hours after you did and set us free before doing something to the other magician. He's over there with him now, says he needs to wait with him until the rest of the Guild arrives, but he asked me to stay with you until you woke up. I've got some basic skills in medicine."
"I see." Akkarin looked over and met Dorrien's eye, and Dorrien set his face in a scowl to let the other man know exactly what he felt. Akkarin inclined his head slightly in a clear indication that he wanted to talk, but Dorrien looked pointedly away. The man was a disgraced black magician. Dorrien did not have to answer to him.
After a few tense seconds, Dorrien realized he was being childish and reluctantly looked back at Akkarin. The other man seemed to be watching Dorrien with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Setting his jaw, Dorrien pushed himself to his feet a bit faster than he should have, and he was grateful when his companion steadied him. As soon as Dorrien was steady, he walked slowly toward the former High Lord.
Akkarin was just as intimidating as Dorrien remembered though Dorrien immediately noticed some differences. Akkarin's hair was shorter than it had been in the Guild, more in keeping with the style of the mountain people he lived with who tended to keep their hair short for convenience. His face seemed a bit fuller as well, his features less harsh, but perhaps Dorrien was seeing things. His eyes, however, were the same as they had always been, and those dark orbs seemed to be seeing straight into Dorrien's thoughts at the very moment. "You are supposed to be banished from the Guild," Dorrien remarked.
A single eyebrow rose. "I am not at the Guild."
"I heard the agreement. You were to leave Imardin with your powers blocked."
"And I did just that."
"Clearly they're not blocked now."
The corners of Akkarin's mouth twitched. "I do not recall any stipulations about my powers staying blocked once I left Imardin."
Dorrien's eyes widened. "You planned this all along, didn't you? You knew you would be able to unblock your powers, so you chose banishment with blocking so you could continue your evil practices." Akkarin did not respond but simply regarded Dorrien coolly. "Did Sonea know? Did you unblock her powers, too? Where is your obedient slave anyway?"
Something flashed in Akkarin's eyes, a dangerous glint that caused Dorrien to take a step back. "Sonea is not my slave." His voice was low and dangerous. Dorrien swallowed hard, dropping his gaze, unable to meet the former High Lord's intense stare. After a few moments, Akkarin continued. "Sonea was needed elsewhere."
"Were there other attacks?"
"Not as far as I'm aware."
"Then what-"
"It is none of your business."
Dorrien bit his lip, knowing it was no use to continue questioning him. Instead, he turned to the unconscious man beside Akkarin. "Is this another one of those Ichani?"
"Yes."
"Why did he attack?"
"To gain power. The allure of citizens with untapped strong magical potential in Kyralia was too much for him to resist. As an Ichani with only two slaves, he was inferior to most of the others."
"Why attack now though? It's been so long since the last attack."
Akkarin's expression shuttered. "That is a discussion I plan to have with the Higher Magicians when they arrive. Once you regain enough of your strength, you can help the survivors to settle somewhere else." His tone had a note of command despite the fact that he no longer had his position, and Dorrien wanted to obey but quickly squashed the feeling.
"Why should I listen to you?"
"Because you know I'm right."
"I know you're an arrogant bastard who thinks only of himself."
"If I was thinking only of myself, I wouldn't be here." With that, he turned back to the prisoner, and Dorrien walked away, more frustrated than he had been in a long time.
As evening fell, Dorrien sent the last of the survivors onto Gallia. He had wanted to report to the Guild about what had happened, but Akkarin had insisted he remain quiet, going so far as to tell Dorrien that he would render him unconscious if he attempted communication. Dorrien knew he should continue on to Gallia as well, but he felt that he had a duty to stay and watch Akkarin since no other Guild magician was around to do so. Akkarin was a silent companion, spending his time sitting with his back against a wall and his eyes on the prisoner. Twice during the day, he had approached the prisoner to slit his wrist, presumably to draw his power. Dorrien had looked away both times, not wanting to see the former Guild leader's vile actions.
After the third power draw, Dorrien had enough. "Why do you keep doing that? If you're so worried about him, why don't you just kill him? I'm sure you've done it plenty of times."
"There is information in this man's mind that the Guild needs. Besides, it is not my place to determine his fate, not anymore."
"What information?"
"Information for the Higher Magicians."
"You do not know that they will come."
"There will be at least two." He sounded quite confident, and Dorrien believed him. After all, Akkarin had been a Higher Magician and likely knew the protocol for the situation.
"So you are planning to sit here and watch the prisoner until they arrive? It will likely be at least three more days even if they're riding hard and switching horses."
"I will do what I have to do."
"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell them what you learned?"
"I have my doubts that they'll believe me."
Dorrien could not disagree with that—he had his doubts that they would believe Akkarin, too. They sat in sullen silence for a bit before Dorrien decided that he was through accepting Akkarin's mysterious ways. The man was no longer the leader of the Guild, and Dorrien did not have to answer to him. "Why don't you tell me what you learned and then you can go back to wherever you disappeared to?"
"No."
"Surely you do not want to just sit there for days on end watching the prisoner."
"I will do what is necessary."
Dorrien fell into an uneasy sleep after that. When he awoke, the sun was already high in the sky. Akkarin was sitting in the same position he had been in when Dorrien fell asleep, the prisoner still magically bound nearby. Dorrien's stomach growled, and he left to find food, returning with enough for two. He may not have liked Akkarin, but he also was not cruel. Surprisingly, Akkarin accepted the food with thanks. As they ate, Dorrien again asked the question that would not stop nagging him. "You still have not told me where Sonea is."
"And I do not intend to do so."
"But she's safe?"
"Yes. We just spoke an hour ago." Dorrien frowned, wondering how that was possible since he had not heard any mindcalls, but he supposed there was probably some way to do so with black magic. He noted that a small smile played at the former High Lord's lips. "She told me to let you know that you really need to think through your actions instead of rushing into things."
Dorrien's jaw clenched. "Tell her she has no say in such things anymore. I'm happily married."
"Then should you not be getting back to your wife?"
"She understands my duties to the Guild."
"How fortunate." They did not talk much after that. Dorrien brought Akkarin food twice a day, and, on the third day when he still showed no sign of sleeping, suggested that he watch the prisoner for a bit. Akkarin seemed disinclined to let him do so but after Dorrien pointed out that everyone knew it was not a good idea to continue to heal away fatigue and forgo sleep, he finally relented and let Dorrien watch for three hours just after he drew away the prisoner's power, making the other magician promise to wake him if the man so much as stirred. Just before agreeing, he did briefly have a glazed look on his face which made Dorrien wonder how much of his acquiescence was due to Sonea's influence.
Late on the fourth day, they finally heard the sound both had been longing for—distant hoofbeats. Dorrien went to the doorway of the building to watch the road and soon spotted the riders coming towards the village. He counted fifteen led by a man in white robes who he knew was the current High Lord. Balkan seemed surprised to see Dorrien when the Healer beckoned him over, but he recovered quickly. Balkan slid off his horse, and the remaining Warriors followed his lead. Dorrien bowed to the High Lord. "Lord Dorrien, I did not expect to find you here. Can you tell us more about the situation?"
"I can tell you some, but I think the person who can tell you the most is in here." Dorrien gestured for them to follow him into the building where Akkarin was still guarding the prisoner. As they stepped through the doors, Akkarin rose and Balkan's step slowed, his mouth opening in astonishment.
"Akkarin? Did you attack these people?"
"No. The culprit is right here." Akkarin gestured to the man in front of him. Balkan looked at him then back at Akkarin, more than a hint of fear in his face. Finally, he turned to Dorrien who nodded in confirmation of Akkarin's statement. Balkan shook his head, still disbelieving.
"I helped block your powers. I watched you leave Imardin. You were supposed to go far from the Guild."
"And I did."
"Not far enough," someone muttered from behind Balkan, but the High Lord held up a hand to silence him.
"Why are you here?"
"I heard Lord Grongen's call and was in a unique position to help."
"So your powers are not blocked?"
"No."
"Then you have violated the terms of your agreement with the Guild."
"I actually thought the agreement was simply that I leave Imardin with my powers blocked which I did. But you are so focused on me, you are forgetting the real enemy." Akkarin nodded to the man at his feet. Balkan looked at him again, seeming unsure what to say. Finally, he looked back at Akkarin.
"Why are you still here? You have clearly dealt with the attacker; why not disappear again?" Dorrien heard the accusation in Balkan's voice, and he knew that many in the Guild felt the same way—they thought that Akkarin and Sonea had abandoned them by choosing to leave the Guild instead of remaining as its protectors.
"I read the man's mind, and there is information in it that you should know."
Balkan crossed his arms over his chest. "So tell me."
"Not here. I will tell it to you alone. As High Lord, it is up to you to decide how to share it after that." Dorrien saw a hint of fear cross Balkan's face, something Akkarin obviously realized as well, for the corners of his lips twitched upwards in a humorless smile. "Come now, if I really wanted to do you harm, do you truly think even fifteen Warriors could stop me?"
Balkan considered for a moment before squaring his shoulders and nodding. "Alright. I suppose you have earned a chance to speak your piece, but do not think we are finished with our discussion about your presence here and what it means to your agreement with the Guild."
"I would expect nothing less."
