Mildrith looked over to Brand’s seat for the tenth time angry that he was skipping the lesson. He threatened to stop coming many times, but she hoped he was only joking. Maybe he was just late or back with the healers after a spell went awry. Either way, she’d see him in the courtyard later in the day.
“He’s not coming,” said a voice from where Alda should have been seated. In her seat was a red-headed young monk with a miffed expression on his face.
“What just happened!” Alda screamed from across the room.
“Calm down, I’ll give you your seat back in a minute,” the monk said dismissing Alda's surprise.
Alda stormed her way back but vanished before getting close. She reappeared in the same spot as before, but this time her shouting could not be heard. The monk teaching the class stood with an awestruck expression. He tried to speak but his words came out as incoherent stuttering.
“Sit down. We’ll talk some other time,” the young monk said, talking down to his elder with a voice holding authority like a king to his subjects. He turned back to Mildrith breathing a heavy sigh. “I kind of hate your family right now. And before you say, 'I’m not a Bryer, I don’t care. Vellian’s tradition of only naming those with certain focuses is moronic.”
A pang of fear washed over Mildrith. Something told her this monk was more than he seemed even after his vapid display authority. So she did what she always did when speaking to her betters, she put on her best smile
“I’m sorry, but I did not get your name,” Mildrith said.
“I’m the young monk,” the young monk said with complete seriousness. “More importantly girl, your piece of shit brother ruined my plans. It was ingenious, something so subtle it could only be devised by a god, or at least a smart one.”
Mildrith was starting to think this man was a bit removed from sanity. “And this plan worthy of the gods was?”
“I gave Brand some advice, so he’d eventually give me some new magic. It was working until your brother paid Azmina enough gold to buy a small estate to blacklist him.”
The dread filling Mildrith melted the smile from her face. If Brand was blacklisted, his time in Vellia was over. He’d live on the Null Road for the rest of his life. There wasn't even a way to travel far off lands. Vellia was spread too far in every direction to leave without magic or a large fortune.
“Why should I believe you?” Mildrith challenged, hoping very much that she was being lied to.
“Because I'm the young monk that gives really, really, good advice. So when I tell you heading to the city dungeon to stop Aldhelm from killing Brand is a good idea, you best believe me.”
The young monk’s head turned to look at a wall as if he was able to see through it. “Well, that girl is not going to look pretty for a while.” He chuckled and looked back over at Mildrith as if she could possibly understand what he meant then gestured around the right side of his face. “Godric and Marla didn’t take kindly to Brand’s dismissal, so they burned off half of Azmina’s face. She’ll get better in a few days.”
“Who are you!” Mildrith shouted as her frustration boiled over.
“I already told you, I’m the-.”
“Young Monk doesn't tell me anything.”
“And it doesn’t matter. Go to the dungeon and if Brand is there help him get as far away from this city as possible. I can’t leave the Hall so I need you to keep him alive.”
The monk looked back at the same wall groaning. “I’ve got to go. Can’t let your sister wreck my temple or get thrashed by my monks. Merwyn can be nasty if she’s pushed.” The monk then popped away replaced by a still screaming Alda.
After calming her down Mildrith dragged her friend outside. “You know where the dungeon is right.”
“I practically grew up there,” Alda said with pride.
“Why would you-.”
“My father’s a city guard, so yes, I know where it is.”
“Good. Take me there.”
“Is this about that teleporting monk? He looked kind of shifty.”
“Yes, and I hope he is. Him telling the truth would be much worse.”
Several minutes later, Mildrith and Alda found themselves looking at a small sparsely decorated building. It was a simple rectangle with no windows and one entrance. It could easily be mistaken for a home if not for its poor and tasteless deminer.
“Is this really it?” Mildrith asked half expecting Alda to be joking. “I thought it would be more menacing. Aren't dungeons supposed to be horrible places to keep horrible men or at least punish them for whatever they did? This looks more like a stable or warehouse.”
“It might as well be,” Alda said. “No one is kept here for very long. There are really only two punishments ever carried out. Execution, which is done immediately so there's no need for anyone to be brought here, or banishment from Vellia after their magic is sealed. I don’t think there have ever been more than three prisoners kept here at a time.”
Alda walked up to the dungeon’s entrance as if she lived there finding only one guard on duty with her feet up enjoying a midday nap. As Mildrith followed behind, she suddenly felt her mana slip from her control. She tried to call on her baculus judging the loss of her strength as an attack, but it failed to free itself from her thighs.
“I forgot to tell you, magic won’t work around her,” Alda said pointing towards the sleeping guard. “She’s got that nasty focus that suppresses magic, all the guards stationed here do.”
“Shouldn’t she still be awake?” Mildrith asked as they walked past the sleeping woman.
“What would be the point of trying to stop a jailbreak. Anyone caught with a rogue mage is put to death be they a noble or Bryer so it's just not worth the risk unless you could somehow survive the Dreyarks.”
Alda turned to look at Mildrith as she spoke making it clear any foolhardy thoughts of rescue would be pointless.
Passing through a second door, they found a dimly lit hallway with several iron-barded cells on each side. Mildrith began looking through each one hoping she would not find Brand.
After searching a few, she turned to Alda. “Aren't you going to help?”
Alda rolled her eyes. She smacked her armored fist against a bar sending a loud clang through the building. “Brandy!” She walked down the hallway slamming against the bars repeatedly. “Brandy! Brandy! Brandy! Brandy!”
“Gods damn it, I’m over here!” said a raspy voice several cells away. "And you don't get to call me that!"
Mildrith’s heart galloped as she ran coming to a stop in front of an occupied cell. Inside, sat Brand, clothed in rags with chains on his hands and feet. He smiled revealing that most of the teeth on the right side of his mouth were missing.
“By the look on your face, I'm guessing you had nothing to do with this.”
“No,” Mildrith said with tears welling up in her eyes. “I can't believe she'd do this to you.”
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To Mildrith’s surprise, Brand jumped to Azmina’s defense. “She didn't have a choice. Aldhelm has something on her. He probably kidnapped Rohaan or maybe Aleen. Or, well I don't know, but he did something. Poison maybe?”
“You need to listen,” Mildrith said, bringing Brand’s rambling to an end. “Aldhelm doesn't-.”
“Why are you here?” Brand interrupted with suspicion edging his words
“Someone told me you were here and that you needed help,” Mildrith said. “I was told Aldhelm paid for this to happen to you.”
“Aldhelm paid who?” Brand asked.
Mildrith waited a long moment to answer. “He paid Azmina to put you here.”
“You're wrong,” Brand said bluntly. Mildrith tried to speak but he would not give her a chance growing louder as he spoke. “Either you’re wrong or lying to me. You could even be working with your brother. I mean, why would you be here of all people! Tanya, I could understand! Godric or Marla would make perfect sense, but you!” Brand looked over to Alda giving her the same mistrustful eyes. “You being here makes even less sense!”
Alda punched the cage bars angrily. “I’m only interested in kicking your ass. Mildrith is the one that wanted to be here you ungrateful shit!”
Brand laughed mockingly. “Oh really. You two just happened to be the first ones to show up. Everyone else I know dragged their feet, but you made it here first all teary-eyed before anyone else!”
Mildrith was speechless. They were not friends or allies of any kind so why had she rushed to his side even though the situation was hopeless. She just didn’t want to see him hurt and didn’t know how to convince him of her sincerity.
“The young monk sent me,” Mildrith said, not knowing what else to say.
“A young monk,” Brand said almost to himself in a whisper.
“He was young, but that's also what he called himself. He’s the one that told me to come here.”
Mildrith told Brand of her encounter. She told him of the power the young monk held over the older monks, of how he could teleport at will, and how any advice he gave should be listened to. Brand kept quiet the entire time but as the story went on life left his eyes replaced by despair.
“No!” Brand shouted suddenly. “She would not do this to me, not for fucking gold!” He thrashed about pulling on his chains headless of the wounds torn into his skin. “That damned monk has to be lying! Mina would not do this to me! She loves me!” Brand grasped his hair hiding his face with his arms. “I don't believe this!”
“I think you do,” Alda said softly.
“Bullshit! I'm not losing everything because someone dumped a bag of gold at Mina’s feet!”
When Brand seemed to calm down Mildrith continued. “Whether or not it's true, you're still blacklisted and Aldhelm is coming for you.”
Alda turned to Mildrith. “It will be a week before his mana is sealed so we have time to talk Aldhelm out of this.”
“Not this time,” said a voice from the entrance. “It usually takes a week but luckily for you, we can get you out of here today.”
****
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Brand shouted with his back against the wall in his cell. He desperately reached for his magic, but it refused his call.
The guard that entered the cell brandished a wand showing he had no intention of laying a finger on Brand; he wouldn't need to.
The guard took one last look behind himself at Alda and Mildrith to be sure they would not interfere. For a moment, Brand thought Mildrith would, but Alda placed a hand on her shoulder speaking words he could not hear. When their eyes dipped to the ground, he knew no help was coming.
Brand wanted to fight, to use the last trick he had to find his way to freedom. But the guard in front of him and the ones outside his cell were powerful captains ready to end him at a moment’s notice. After the trouble they’d gone through to capture him, it seemed no one was foolish enough to underestimate him.
“Hold still,” the guardsman said with his wand pointed forward.
Brand immediately felt as if he was being crushed between two walls. Barely able to breathe, he shut his eyes as a strand of mana shot from the wand and entered his body by piercing his closed eyelid. He could feel it worm its way into his head then down his spine towards his fourth gate. As soon as Brand’s well of power was touched, it closed.
Brand silently screamed as he felt his mana implode. He thrashed against the spell holding him in place as his third gates vanished taking with it not just more mana but the strength he’d grown so proud of.
His body grew heavy as if gravity magic was being used on it. His muscles tingled as the power supplying them shrank again with the closing of his second gate. It brought with it a feeling of hunger like never felt before. He felt withered as if his muscles were no more than small twigs that would break at the slightest impact.
When his last gate was sealed, panic born from a sense of blindness came over him. His magical perception dimmed to that of a mundane human darkening the world around him. Mildrith, Alda, and the guards outside his cell vanished from his awareness.
When the spell holding him dissipated, Brand fell to his hands and knees looking around frantically because he was barely able to see. The dim fire lights from the hallway now seemed to be engulfed by the darkness around him. He could no longer hear the heartbeats that added to the ambient noise he’d grown used to. Unnoticed pain made itself known as minor bruises that would have healed within hours became crippling injuries. But nothing compared to the tidal wave of fear crashing into him at seeing the mage in front of him.
Brand backpedaled so quickly he slammed the back of his head against the wall. Blood trickled down the back of his neck as his breathing sped up and terrible trembling began. When the guard took a few steps forward, Brand jumped away trying his best to escape into a corner.
The guard’s hand lashed out in a blur to Brand’s slowed perception grabbing him in a vice-like grip. “Calm down! I'm just checking my work.”
Brand lost all semblance of control voicing his fear in a terrible wail. The guard only tightens his grip. When Brand couldn't pull away, he slammed his head into the guard's nose only achieving an annoyed huff in response.
Seeing how utterly powerless he was, Brand’s despair grew to new heights. The man in front of him was gone, replaced by one in finery and smelling of perfume. A moment later he was Ooba with his hand crackling with lightning and a sadistic smile etched across his face. Then an onslaught of faces came and went each a teacher, a vellian, and a tormenter at the same time.
Tears pooled in Brand’s eyes as an armored hand landed on the guard’s shoulder. “Let go of him, now!” Alda said with a threatening growl.
She squeezed the guard’s shoulder until he let go with a cry. His comrades rushed in with weapons drawn but we're stopped by oversized swords blocking their path in an x formation.
Mildrith spoke with a promise of violence edging each word “Take another step forward and I'll kill you.” Small blades filled the room like stars in the night sky all humming with deadly magic. “You've sealed his gates, now let him go.”
One of the guards began throttling his mana in defiance, kicking the air about the dungeon. He was an elite confident in his own strength, so confident he thought to test himself against Mildrith's might, so she gave her final threat.
“Or should I mention this to my father, the king?”
The Guardsman grunted. “Put your blades away. We’re done here.” Alda released her grip and Mildrith shifted her blades to allow the guards to leave unmolested.
Before exiting one of the guards looked back. “He has ten minutes to leave the city or he dies.”
Once they were free of onlookers, Mildrith and Alda looked towards Brand. He wished they didn't. Being seen trembling with tears pooling around his eyes felt so familiar like he was back at Saint Hilda's, small and alone again.
He knew Mildrith would not hurt him, that Prometheus had sent her, but she could and there would nothing her could do to stop her. His back shivered at the thought. His strength was gone and having tasted it made its absence all the more terrifying.
Brand stood on shaky legs still not used to how heavy his body felt. With an angry snarl, he punched a wall. Pain exploded and ran up his arm. He calmed striking the wall again and then a third time, drinking in the agony like a healing draft.
He turned fist bloodied after the gods knew how many strikes. His mind was at ease, pain clearing doubts and fears and making things simple. “Let’s go.”
“Where do you plan on going?” Mildrith asked. “And the Hall is not an option. You can’t make it there in ten minutes.”
Brand walked past her without a word leaving the dungeon. He looked around trying to get his bearings only speaking after he knew where they were and what needed to be done. “I’m not going to the Hall yet. Maybe in a few weeks, I can sneak back in, but for now, I’m headed for the dark forest.”
“Are you trying to die!” Mildrith shouted. “That far off the King's Road is filled with monsters and not the kind we faced in the Hall. A-ranked beast sometimes appears through the rifts in the area. Hells, you might even fall into one without knowing and end up in Helheim itself.”
“That’s the only place your brother might not be able to find me,” Brand said while poking at his ribs. “If I stay along the King's Road, I'll be dead within the next few minutes.” He spoke while eyeing a nearby building with people standing on its roof. Without magic, he couldn’t see far enough to gleam any details, but he was sure they were looking at him.
“It’s also the place you will definitely die without magic,” Mildrith protested.
A sigh of relief escaped Brand as he found just enough mana within his body to control. He sent it all to a beast core embedded within his chest establishing the link needed to draw its power.
His body erupted with the core’s mana that turned invisible in seconds as it passed through his channels. Doing so without a complex spell circle to control the power would usually result in death or permanent damage to one's mana channels. But thanks to Brand's channel refinement, all he felt was a soothing warmth spreading through his body, but it would not last long.
Brand turned to Mildrith with his usual confidence now that his magic was restored. “Give me one of your blades.” Mildrith just stared, too shocked that Brand still had magic to respond so he got louder. “Pick your mouth off the ground and make a fucking blade or my mana will only last a few minutes!”
“How did you-?”
“Just do it.”
Mildrith nodded and made an oversized long sword. Brand grabbed it out of the air immediately breaking it down with his fortress aura that grew bright red with the influx of power then vanished.
“It’s time to run. If you can’t keep up, I'm leaving you behind. They’re after me, not you."
Brand's promise broke Mildrith from her surprise. She followed his gaze to a group of nobles on a rooftop looking for blood.