2. Leytouched
Leytouched
F elix hated being a guard. It was without question the most mind-numbingly dull job in existence.
But when times were peaceful, there were few other ways to make a steady wage for someone like him – good with a blade, decent looking in a uniform, not very much else.
It was a major downside of leaving the employ of a mercenary band.
Most jobs he could get his hands on as a free agent were far too dangerous or far too boring.
Unless he wanted to risk his life in the fighting pits every day, Felix could either endure hours of stiff vigilance at fancy parties, or starve.
Lord Trevalyan hosted the midsummer ball at his sprawling lakeside estate this year.
If the hosts had intended to give all the attendees glaring headaches, Felix thought sourly, they had certainly succeeded.
The music, the decorations, the ridiculous amount of flowers everywhere; the entire event was a sensory assault.
There must have been at least a thousand guests in attendance, and the evening was well underway.
Felix stood outside the garden doors, where the laughter and music spilled out into the night air.
Cutting through the centre of the grand terrace was the Azuill ley line – a shimmering, uneven streak of blue and silver light, a vein of living magic running through the earth, reduced to nothing but a shiny dancefloor.
It was a good thing the god of magic was supposedly dead, or this may well have been considered heresy.
Felix sighed. Nothing that actually required his intervention ever happened at these balls.
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and rested a hand on the axe at his side, trying not to fidget.
It made little sense to be armed for this at all.
It was theatre, and he was nothing but a prop.
He swept his eyes over the gathering in an attempt to remain vigilant.
The music slowed down and then stopped. That meant the strange magic ceremony was coming up.
Good, the party might wind down after that.
Felix could be on his way soon after, some gold in his pocket, free to enjoy the rest of the festival in less pretentious company.
The Flagon would be open all night, and Mia would be there…
but then he’d probably spend all his wages buying everyone drinks.
The pits, then? They were always busy on festival nights, so he would have his pick of upstarts thinking they could win an easy brawl.
And Alwin had been frequenting the pits recently, or so he’d heard.
With any luck, the bastard would be there tonight.
That would be a good way to end the evening, at least.
For now, though, he still had a job to do. If you could call it that. He made his way to the far end of the terrace and positioned himself with his back to the dark gardens beyond. Two other guards did the same nearby.
Six servants in elaborate uniforms appeared, followed by large numbers of guests spilling out of the terrace doors. Each of the six held a crystal carafe full of a golden-coloured liquid high above their heads, moving with care. The crowd trailing them was obnoxiously loud and excited.
The servants descended the garden steps in single file, their movements slow and precise.
Once they reached the centre of the terrace, they arranged themselves in a circle.
The crowd hushed, all eyes trained expectantly on six robed mages who now emerged onto the terrace.
A group of young women manoeuvred themselves to the front for the best view.
Each mage stepped behind one of the carafe bearers and raised their arms. Felix suspected all the theatre was entirely unnecessary, and he rolled his eyes at it.
The mage leader, a tall man in green, began a low chant .
The mages moved their hands in intricate patterns.
With a sudden burst of light, hundreds of tiny sparks appeared in the air.
The crowd erupted in delighted gasps and cheers as the sparks swirled and floated, some rising into the night sky while others settled on guests’ hair and clothing like snowflakes.
Felix watched in silence, unimpressed by the display. He squinted at the terrace. Was the ley line glowing brighter than before?
Trays of crystal glasses levitated into the air, twinkling in the combined glow of magic and candlelight.
Finally, the mages turned inward to face the servants.
Their chanting intensified as energy gathered in their hands.
In a synchronised motion, they unleashed the magic into the carafes, earning a roaring applause from the crowd.
Then the mage leader lowered his arms, and his chanting faltered as his gaze snapped to the terrace floor where the ley line, pulsing faintly moments before, now throbbed with increasing intensity.
The crowd noticed as well, their delighted murmurs giving way to curious gasps and exclamations. Something was not right.
Felix’s unease deepened as the mage leader backed away. The familiar tingling feeling that signalled danger ran down his spine. Two of the other mages stared down in alarm, their focus breaking as they stepped out of formation.
A deafening crack split the air, and the terrace shuddered violently. Felix stumbled as blinding blue and silver light surged across the space with the force of a tidal wave. His mind was racing. An earthquake? Or some kind of attack?
Screams erupted around him as people scrambled in every direction. Glass shattered, furniture toppled. The nearby guards were making a run for it, along with the guests.
Felix’s heart was hammering in his ears. He took a step forward towards the light, shielding his eyes from the glare. Even though his instincts told him to run, something else compelled him to move closer.
As he moved toward the source of the light, a second blast hit, but this one seemed to go inward rather than out. It pulled at him like a vortex, and he fell forward onto his knees. Several figures collapsed, then it dimmed to a dull glow .
Around him, the commotion slowly died down as the last guests fled. An eerie silence descended. The twinkling lights the mages had summoned earlier flickered wildly, casting erratic shadows across the scene.
At the centre of it all was the ley line. It had turned into a gaping, jagged crack as wide as a horse cart. Blue light poured out of it, pulsating as if alive. Nearby, several figures lay motionless on the ground, unnervingly still.
Felix’s heart pounded in his throat as he approached them, his axe gripped in his hand. Each step brought him closer to the unsettling light and the prone bodies near its edge. When he reached one of them, he hesitated. He prodded the body with the toe of his boot. No response.
He took a steadying breath and crouched down, rolling the figure over.
The sight made his stomach turn. It was a mage, or what was left of him.
The man’s face was ashen, the colour of stone.
His mouth hung frozen in a silent scream, and his eyeballs had turned black.
As if all life had been drained out of him, and he would disintegrate into ashes at any moment.
Felix shuddered and got to his feet. He was alone on the terrace. Everyone else had fled. Why was he still here? He caught a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye.
On the edge of the fractured ley line, a young woman slowly rose.
She stood half-crouched, hands outstretched, staring at them in wide-eyed horror.
Shimmering blue light radiated off her. Streaks of it ran up her arms, criss-crossed her hands, and were even visible on her neck.
She appeared frozen in place, but the light seemed to dance and bounce around her.
Felix took a cautious step in her direction, his grip tightening on the axe.
“Don’t move!” he called, feeling immediately foolish. She did not show any sign of wanting to move, or of having noticed him at all. Was she some kind of mage, too? He approached her slowly. He had been in plenty of fights, but never against a magic user.
What the fuck are you doing? A voice in his head yelled at him. Let the mages deal with their mess.
Whatever his mind was shouting at him, though, his feet would not move away. He took another hesitant step towards her .
Her head lifted a fraction. When her eyes met his, he startled at the sharp core of bright blue in their centre, but equally at her haunted expression. Haunted and terrified. Maybe she was as unwillingly caught up in this as he was?
The strange light continued to gather and pulse along the lines on her skin. Felix lowered his hands and tried to appear as unthreatening as possible. She reminded him of a panicked animal – frozen with fear but ready to lash out if cornered.
“Who are you?”
She jerked her head up at the sound of his voice and locked eyes with him again.
Her lips parted as though she wanted to respond, but no words came.
Her gaze dropped back to her glowing hands, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
As a silent sob wracked her body, the light surrounding her intensified, growing so brightly Felix had to squint.
She squeezed her eyes shut as light and force erupted from her, radiating outwards, flooding the terrace.
It knocked Felix off his feet and flung him to the ground as if he were a discarded rag doll.
When it passed, he slowly got up, his head pounding as if he’d been drinking all night.
The woman stood in the same spot, arms still wrapped around herself, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.
The light that had blazed so fiercely moments before receded to a faint, pulsing glow.
A sharp voice rang out some distance behind him.
“Kill her now, quickly!”