The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

"Where are we going?" Leo asked. "Home," Mrs. S. said shortly. "We can't," Leo protested, suddenly panicking. "They'll be watching my home. Sister Karina knows who I am! They'll arrest me again! I can't...I can't go back to prison. I won't go back." "No one is going to put you in prison," Mrs. S said firmly. "Don't worry about the parliament. They've been dealt with." "What do you mean they've been dealt with? They hate me! They were going to execute me even before I gave them the crown!" Mrs. S. turned to Michael. "Why don't you tell him?" Michael started. "Tell him what?" "What happened after your little stunt that left him beat up and unconscious?" Michael looked away, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't want to hurt you, I really didn't, I just--" "Kicked him when he was already down," Mrs. S. said testily. "Seven times." Michael said nothing. "Really, I don't know why you forgave him," Mrs. S. said. "I killed people," Leo said mildly. "Lots of people. Thousands of people, if the reports are to be believed. And tortured them. I don't remember the details, but I imagine it was a lot worse than breaking some ribs." Michael's head snapped up. "I broke your ribs?" he said, horrified. "One of them at least," Leo said. "I can feel it moving when I breathe." "How are you still conscious?" "Sheer determination at this point," Leo said wearily. "Anyway," Mrs. S said pointedly. "After that..." "After that," Michael said, "the Evil Cult swarmed in with their guards and took you, me, and the the entire druid council captive." "Where did they take them?" "I don't know. They weren't in the same dungeon with us so...it's probably not good." "Not good at all," Mrs. S. said. "The parliament is in a panic and, realizing how much they depend on the druids has made them reconsider their reliance on magic users overall. I have already spoken to them about my plans to retrieve you. Once you're better, we'll talk to them together about a plan to rescue my brothers and sisters." Leo pulled his horse up short. "How do I know I can trust you?" "Well, to start with, I've lived next door to you for seven years and never once ratted you out to parliament. Also, I've never lost my temper and broken your ribs." "What is your real name, anyway? Do I have to keep calling you Mrs. S?" "Well, if you must know, young man, my name is Sylvia. But I was married, so Mrs. S. will do just fine." "Sylvia," Leo muttered, nudging his horse into moving again. "If you're telling me the truth, I'm neither 'young' nor 'man.'" She didn't respond. They stopped again in the late afternoon, and by dusk they were approaching the city gates. The guards let them through without comment. Rebuilding was already underway, the larger pieces of rubble being cut to new stone and the rest of the debris carried away to be ground into concrete. Scaffolding had gone up around the gash in the wall. It was full dark when they reached the street with Leo's shop. Mrs. S opened the door with the key Leo had given her, and Michael practically carried the sorcerer up the stairs to his bed. Between the two of them, they stripped Leo of what was left of his clothes, and washed the dried blood off of him. Michael cooked, while Mrs. S. sewed the worst of the gashes with a skilled hand, and wrapped his chest in bandages. Then Michael sat behind him on the bed, propping him up as he fed him spoonfuls of broth until Leo couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and fell into sleep. ** It was late morning when he woke up. Michael was curled behind him, his arm thrown over his waist. He felt...he felt better. He reached tentatively for magic and was surprised when a small flame burst alight in his palm. It still hurt, but more like stretching a sore muscle than tearing a tendon. Michael stirred beside him, mumbling something in his sleep. Leo rolled over to face him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his chest. He wanted to stay like this forever, warm and held and safe. He didn't want to think about what new horrors the day had in store, or remember the horrors he'd already endured. Michael opened his eyes and smiled at him. Leo was leaning in for a kiss, morning breath and all, when Michael stiffened and screamed in pain. There were thundering footsteps and Mrs. S. burst out of the stairwell just as Leo sprang out of bed, panicking, looking for the cause of his lover's distress. "What is it?" the druid cried. "What's going on?" "I don't know," Leo said desperately. "He was fine a minute ago and then..." Michael screamed again, his back arching in pain, and Leo caught a glimpse of the sigil, turning red, on his back. He slapped a hand to his forehead. "I'm so stupid!" "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and explain!" "The sigil. He's bound." "They're controlling?" "Not....not like that. He said that they could kill him if he didn't complete his task." "Seems like that's what they're doing then," Mrs. S. said grimly. 'Help me get him turned over." It took both of them, and Leo almost got kicked in the face. The sigil glowed like red hot iron on Michael's left shoulder. Leo shuddered looking at it. "Help him," he begged. "Please, can you help him?" "I can't," Sylvia said stiffly. "Your binding was the last magic I ever did." She reached into her pocket and handed him a small silver knife. "You're going to have to do it yourself." Leo hesitated, torn between the heart-rending screams of the man in front of him, and the screams of the dozens of sorcerers who had been under that knife. The druid dropped a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her. "He won't suffer like you did," Sylvia promised. "You're an innately magical being. He's not. It will hurt, of course, but he will heal from it like he would any superficial wound. I promise you." Leo nodded. He couldn't hold Michael down and cut at the same time, and the druid wasn't strong enough, so in the end they had to tie him down and it cost them precious time. The sigil was spreading now, nearly up to Michael's neck. Leo's hand was shaking as he reached the knife towards it. "You can do this," Sylvia said, steadying him. "Seven cuts. Like I showed you." Leo nodded, but his breath came in short, panicky gasps. "You have to do this," the druid said, and her voice echoed with ancient power. "You can do this. You're running out of time." Michael screamed again. With an echoing scream of his own, Leo made the first cut. Michael reacted immediately, his whole body shaking as he strained against the restraints. Leo cut again. Michael's screams turned inhuman, an animal in a slaughterhouse. Tears streaming down his face, Leo cut again, and again. He wasn't sane the last time he heard this sound. It echoed in his memory and his nightmares but he was lucid now and it was so, so much worse than he remembered. Blood covered his hands, and Michael's back, and ran down into the sheets as he finally finished, the tattooed sigil neatly dissected into seven sacred pieces. Michael went still and silent beneath him. Mrs. S. held out a silver needle and thread. Leo touched it, and immediately dropped it when it burned his fingers. "I can't do it for you," the druid said, her grief evident. "I would if I could, Leo, believe me. But there is no one here besides me and you. If you don't sew it up, the sigil will heal itself and he'll be under its influence once again. I'm so sorry." Leo picked up the needle, bracing himself this time. He bent his head and began the grisly work. He wasn't good at this, Mrs. S had to coach him through the stitches and they were ragged and irregular. It was worse once his fingers swelled up too much to use and he had to switch to his left hand. By the time he finished both hands were reddened as if he had thrust them into the fire. Mrs. S bandaged the scar, and together they rolled Michael onto his back. Leo knelt beside him, reaching for his cold, cold hand. "He's not breathing," he cried desperately. "Was I too late?" Sylvia took his hand and pressed it to Michael's chest, right above where his heart would be. "You have to help him," she said gently. "I don't know how!" "You do," she said. "You have summoned lightning and walked through shadows. For every destructive action there is an opposite, an act of creation. This is the same spell you were trying to teach him when I walked in and stopped you, just in reverse." "I don't know if I can," Leo protested. "My power..." Sylvia took his face in both her hands, forcing him to look up at her. "Leo," she said. "Do you love him?" "Yes," Leo confessed. "Then you will find the power. You can do this. I will help you." She moved to stand behind him, her hands on his shoulder. He felt...something. Not magic, exactly, but the shadow of it. He steadied himself and reached for power. It hurt. It hurt like an arrow in his heart, like his soul being ripped out of his body. He screamed, and he commanded Michael's heart to live, to beat, it wasn't time, not yet-- Michael sat up with a sucking gasp of surprise. Leo collapsed to the floor and wept.