Chapter 6 Judgement #4
“Currently, none in Astral City. And after considering your petition for special acceptance, I’m confident we’ve made the correct choice.
You do not have what it takes to become a Paragon.
Mixed-bloods have made it to Knighthood, but never has one become a leader the Keep has deemed worthy of advancing to Paragon,” Ashbrook said flatly.
“Did he actually think that we would allow him to become a Knight in training after this tragedy?” Commander Englestad asked the group at the table as though Venrick wasn’t present.
“Without the letter I sent, how did you know I petitioned for special acceptance to the Academies?” he surmised.
“You keep referencing this letter,” Hierro said, pulling it from his breast pocket with deliberate grace.
Venrick stared in disbelief. It really was his letter, as he noticed the blood stain he’d left on the far corner.
“I considered sharing it when you brought it up, but with these kinds of things, it’s always better to hear your account face-to-face.”
The chamber seemed to darken, shadows growing from the corners.
“I thought you might change your lie and tell the truth about what happened to Tel.” Hierro’s words rang through the silence that took hold.
“Pity for you that you chose to stick with your lie for the second time. I think I speak for all of us when I say your petition to be forgiven for losing a Hyalite and accepted into the training program is denied.”
This manipulation tore at Venrick’s heart. The weight of what the Archmagus was saying settled down on him and seeped into his bones.
“It’s a shame,” Joc’s voice emerged smooth as glass. “Though he was denied by the academies for all those years, it’s apparent that his Paragon trusted him to defend a Hyalite.” The words carried undertones of a poison that had yet to reveal itself.
“In his version of the story, yes, but how do we know if Tel truly trusted him?” Limosuel added.
“When I spoke to Tel’s Honor Guard, they mentioned it wasn’t the first time they’d been called back while his Squire was summoned for the retrieval of powerful objects,” Commander Belfour argued.
“Maybe if you had successfully brought back the Hyalite, then we might’ve considered giving you a chance to prove yourself,” Englestad said offhandedly.
“With your track record of failed Academy applications, and now this failure with Tel Roan,” Ashbrook said, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair, clearly having made up her mind, “I don’t see how we could give you another chance.”
Venrick’s chest tightened as she spoke.
“We can’t allow Hyalites to go missing. There is no other recourse but to give Venrick the most severe punishment,” Ashbrook announced.
Venrick’s throat constricted, suddenly feeling as dry as the southern deserts.
His tongue cleaved to the back of his throat as he attempted to voice an argument, but their authority was too powerful.
These people were supposed to see how hard he’d worked over the years.
How every sacrifice and every moment were devoted to proving himself against impossible odds.
Every time he’d reached for something greater it seemed to slip through his fingers because of his heritage.
Nothing about this meeting had gone the way Venrick had hoped.
His only surprise was that he was still alive.
“If I may,” Hierro’s voice cut through the horrifying sentence closing in around Venrick.
As the Archmagus raised a single boney finger, the rest of the leadership hung on his words.
“Before you sentence this young man to exile or death, I would like to offer an alternative. Something that has proven successful lately.”
“What kind of alternative?” Ashbrook asked, thin lips becoming a hard line.
“As long as Marcel and Tel Roan’s dragon are missing, maybe we allow young Venrick the opportunity to prove himself worthy of retrieving the lost Hyalite.”
“He can’t possibly get a Hyalite back from Marcel,” Ashbrook protested. “Nordraven’s entire force of Paragons is out looking for their rider. He would pose a security risk once he was captured. He knows too much.”
Hierro tapped his finger against the ruby clasping his cloak together, and said, “I have a way around that.”
“You do?” Ashbrook asked.
“If given the ability to keep those secrets, where’s the harm in letting a Paragon’s helpless Squire attempt a mission that Tel Roan himself would likely have failed?
If he proves himself by collecting the missing Hyalite and returning it here to the Vermillion Keep, Venrick will have proven himself worthy of acceptance into your trainee program. ”
Venrick’s mind buzzed with possibilities, hope springing from him that he might leave this Keep alive.
“And in the more likely event that he fails,” Hierro continued, his dark eyes settling on Venrick, “he’ll be gone forever.”
“Why wouldn’t he just run away?” Belfour asked.
“Like I said, I have a way around that kind of behavior.”
“How?” The question emerged from Ashbrook.
Hierro rose, his presence a source of gravity drawing the group’s energy. “I can create a conjuring that will keep him on task and tight-lipped, under pain of death,” he said.
“You can do that with Yogo energy?” Ashbrook asked.
“I can do it with a different kind of magic. Something the magi of the North have been able to do.”
“You’re talking about a curse?” Ashbrook said.
“Their dark roots can yield most auspicious fruit if done correctly. Even the King has authorized us to use it, sparingly of course.”
Venrick’s hope for a life beyond the chamber fell inward. The others eyed one another like wolves smelling a change in the wind.
“Curses are not legal in Lamar,” Belfour announced.
“Nor are they ethical,” Ashbrook agreed, but beneath her certainty a line of shadows darkened her brow.
“You were going to condemn him to death, were you not?” Hierro said, stating it as if it were fact.
Ashbrook nodded slowly…
“This is much more humane,” Hierro reasoned, seeing Ashbrook’s look of consideration. “Once cursed, Venrick will have no choice but to complete the task or die.”
“How could you ensure this without assigning one from the Magi Order to follow him constantly?” Ashbrook asked.
“A touch of dark magic from the fae realm, the curse, is imbued into this,” Hierro said, pulling forth a crimson ruby on a golden chain.
The artifact emanated an unnatural pulse, much different from the hum his Yogo Sapphires emitted.
“Once cursed, he’ll be bound to this rune-cast amulet.
Its power will keep his life tied to the conditions we set for him.
If Venrick takes the amulet off, his blood will boil. ”
Venrick took a step back, feeling the magical presence of the mages in the room ready to take hold of him.
“That necklace can keep a curse active?” Limosuel asked.
“With Joc’s help, he and I have created a form of power not thought possible before,” Hierro replied.
“I don’t know,” Englestad said, his voice shaky with doubt. “This kind of magic hasn’t been seen in the Keep since the Dark Times.”
“It offers us a larger net to track down the Hyalite without costing the Keep anything,” Hierro insisted. The red amulet dangled from his fingers like a pendulum counting down the moments until it would grace Venrick’s neck.
“How would it work?” Ashbrook asked, her violet eyes reflecting the desire to acquire the lost Hyalite.
“The curse binds Venrick to this amulet. Through the runes carved into its surface, Venrick will be held to the task of retrieving the lost Hyalite. If he were to tell anyone about the curse or if he were to take off the amulet, he would die.”
“And if he abandons the task?” she prompted.
“If he runs away from it and fails to attempt the task, he’ll die. But if he completes the mission and brings the Hyalite back,” Hierro continued, “I will remove the curse, and he will be free to enroll here in the best of the Paragon training academies Lamar has to offer.”
“How would you make it so he can’t tell others about it?” Ashbrook asked.
“I can design the boundaries of the curse to limit any direct language that acknowledges his situation under a curse. He couldn’t tell anyone.”
“This object of his undoing will be his own salvation,” Joc added with a wicked smile.
“To others it will seem as though he is after the Hyalite as revenge for Tel’s death or for his own personal gain or what have you,” Hierro finished.
General Ashbrook studied her companions’ reactions with the intensity of one who has witnessed too many impossible things to discount even the most terrible possibilities.
The silence grew between them like a void.
“Getting the Hyalite back is the most important priority. We will dedicate our resources to finding it, including this Squire,” she stated.
Venrick backed toward the door. This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be happening. Every step he’d taken in Tel’s service, every moment spent proving himself against impossible odds, had led not to acceptance but to this crucible of dark magic and desperate choices.
He couldn’t allow them to use him this way, not after everything he’d sacrificed in the Keep’s name.
“Lord De Vonte, do it,” General Ashbrook’s command shattered Venrick’s hope for some reasonable or favorable resolution.
Suddenly Joc was there. Venrick struggled, writhing to break free, but the mage held Venrick in place with a strength that belied his wiry appearance. From under his breath, Venrick heard the apprentice chanting in a strange language.
Hierro was there, his hand raised. Pale fingers stretched toward Venrick, splayed like the bones of a living ghost. Swirling energy formed around them, each curl and twist passing from the Yogos on his belt. The tang of magic tasted thick on the air, just as it had in that clearing where Tel fell.
Darkness crept into Venrick’s vision. His body went limp. The light evaporated, leaving behind only a darkness as vast and complete as the space between stars.