Chapter 8 #4
“Amelia wasn’t the target of the curse, I was,” I admitted.
“And it’s not the first time.” Then I revealed the attack by the draveth, how he was killed by a protection spell on me.
Retelling the events of the attack caused the same phantom heat over my body that the claws caused when they stabbed me, and rekindled my desperation to preserve a life that was slipping away.
I left out the part that their attempt was nearly successful and that if it hadn’t been for Vina, I’d be dead.
I couldn’t risk him connecting the dots and discovering that Vina was Amelia’s mother.
And attributing Amelia to saving my life would cause him to question how she’d acquired such magic.
I wished I could be completely transparent with Cirrian, since he was a wealth of knowledge that I wanted access to.
And I wanted to know more about the ashinwa magic that he coveted and loathed so much.
I gave him a nearly accurate retelling of the incident, skating over Vina’s involvement and where the torus ended up, giving him the impression that Amelia was responsible for saving my life. Which wasn’t a complete lie.
Revealing my immunity to wards, bindings, and oaths appeared to dispel any lingering doubts he had. It also earned me a cynical smirk from him as if he knew I had agreed to the oath with the belief I couldn’t be bound to it.
“Draveths.” His voice held the same level of scorn it did when he said ashinwa.
Equally disliked, but one was of use to him.
“This is where they were settled,” he said.
An emotion that I couldn’t decipher darkened his eyes, although his scowl spoke volumes.
“They’re sorcerers whose hunger for greater magic got them cast out of Umbryth. You share a common enemy.”
He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the strands.
After scrutinizing my face, he sighed and continued before I could ask my next question.
“Fifty years ago, they attacked the Laytherium, where the collections are kept, with the intention of stealing its magic. Had they succeeded, they would have become nearly unstoppable, strong enough to usurp our authority. Our rules put us at a distinct disadvantage when dealing with them.”
“Because you can’t kill them?”
His hardened eyes were as good as any vocal confirmation. Lips pulled into a severe line, he looked reluctant to continue.
“Why do we share the same enemy?” I pressed, determined not to let the vault of information close.
A small smile flitted over his lips, and his eyes softened at a memory.
“We enlisted another god’s army, who weren’t bound by our rules.
The draveths were defeated and exiled. On this side of the realm, their magic is too limited for them to return to ours.
” There was an unmistakable fondness in his tone.
The fleeting look of wistfulness was more than mere gratitude toward an army.
“Whose army?” I asked, testing my hypothesis.
The vault of information was closing, so I tried another angle. “The god who loaned you their army is our shared enemy?”
He gave me a slow nod. “Goddess Annessa.” Warmth had crept back into his voice, and his eyes grew distant. When he refocused, the gentle reminiscing was gone. “You killed one of her warriors.”
“How long ago?”
“Seventy-five years ago,” he replied, his tone even and placid.
“I’m twenty-six. I wasn’t alive to kill anyone,” I shot back.
Cirrian inclined his head, his voice icy. “Of course. You don’t even have the ability to do so now. Your magic is locked.” His pointed words were a reminder that he wanted the oath annulled.
“When Goddess Annessa discovered the death, she was furious. I’m surprised she didn’t eliminate your entire magical line.
But cruelty wasn’t her way. Instead, she locked ashinwa power behind trials designed to prove worthiness and the ability to do no harm.
She restricted your ability to harm her creatures or anyone from her army.
” He gave a bitter smile. “Though they’re essentially one and the same. ”
Cirrian believed anyone could be dangerous, and I was sure that extended to magic as well. A trial wouldn’t change someone’s threat level. He was proof that laws and rules could be circumvented.
My mouth parted to ask a question, but there were so many it was hard to prioritize them.
“Ashinwas possess omni-magic. It is equally as powerful here as it is in Umbryth. Which is why it would be coveted by the draveths, as a way for them to return.”
“You think this spell is the work of a draveth?” I asked, hugging myself to ward off the shivers that ran through me. I couldn’t determine if they were from his cold stare or his chilly demeanor.
“Sorcerers can’t use a witch spell from this realm,” he said.
“It’s a demon spell,” I pointed out.
His expression of indifference led me to believe he didn’t see a distinction between the two. There were very apparent differences.
I clung to Vina’s final words. The new information didn’t bring me any closer to my priority: saving Amelia. Vina’s knowing about the exiled sorcerers was concerning. I’d have to process and deal with that later.
Someone wanted my magic.
I now had a reason why the draveth attacked me.
My magic was still locked.
“Let the oath stand. I didn’t fail the Spellrend. There’s still an opportunity for me to pass it. Are you willing to abandon your friends because I don’t have magic now? Don’t underestimate me. I’m even more tenacious and determined than you can imagine.”
The level of unearned confidence I was able to display needed to be studied. I wasn’t sure it had convinced him.
Quickly casting away other emotions, his comfortable arrogance resurfaced.
He leaned down until we were face to face, our eyes locked in a tense challenge.
Me holding his steely gaze made him laugh.
Dark and domineering, it was a sinister challenge rather than humor.
It spurred my resolve. When this was over, I’d have the last laugh.
“As you wish, darling. Understand, Kara, my actions aren’t from kindness but from selfishness.
Your humanlike bravado is delightfully entertaining.
When you fail, which you will, do not expect clemency or pity, because you asked for this.
I’ll find just as much delight in removing your magic.
It will have its benefits. Your unpredictable magic and lack of knowledge make you dangerous.
It will be a pleasure to prevent it being stolen and exploited. ”
“Nothing like a hater to motivate me,” I fired back.
His expression was inscrutable, and thick contention hung between us. Then he disappeared. Collections didn’t wait for him to insult and antagonize me.