As I walked through the corridor, my hand kept drifting to my hip, seeking the comforting presence of the usual sword I kept here. Amadeus kept a few paces behind me. The hairs on the nape of my neck stood at attention. Time magic swirled at the back of my mind, at the ready.
From what I understood about Amadeus, there was little reason to fear having him behind me.
But there was still an unacceptable level of risk.
Since he was aware of my ability to reverse time, he must realize that any fatal attack must kill me immediately. Champion Jokul had stabbed me in the heart at Amelie in Yellow, but such a method left a few seconds of conscious thought before death. In Velassa they preferred execution by fire, so I had never personally witnessed a decapitation, but supposedly the liberated head continues demonstrating signs of life for several seconds afterwards.
Though very methods of immediate death came to mind, a bar of flame piercing through the back of my head would likely do the trick.
After ten seconds of worry, I finally slowed my pace and glanced back at the Magister. “I don’t want you behind me.”
Amadeus held up his hands in mock offense. “Have I done something to upset you, young sir?”
“You did threaten to slowly roast me alive,” I said. “And you claimed you’re taking me back to Velassa to be executed.”
Amadeus repeated his insufferable habit of touching one finger to his chin as if in deep thought. “Surely you understand that was a mere pretense. The convenience of you laying in wait at the perfect moment makes it obvious that this is not the first time we’ve spoken. And given your relationship with the Magistrate, I doubt you would just surrender yourself so easily.”
“No,” I admitted. “This is not the first time we’ve spoken. All the more reason to not want you behind me.”
The Magister shook his head. “Come now. I ruined an excellent relationship with Vishan to protect you. Would you care to enlighten me for my troubles?”
My immediate thought was to refuse, but such obstinance would have been childish. “You serve the White Phoenix. You want me to join the Embers for some reason, and say you have some incentives to make the offer enticing.”
“Oh?” said Amadeus. “What incentives are those?”
I shook my head in annoyance. Enough time magic still remained for me to attempt an alternative route, though I was loath to drain more power without knowing what the future held. For now, using the Magister to make it out of the city seemed the most logical path.
Eventually I spoke up. “You tell me.”
Amadeus’ hearty laugh echoed through the corridor. “Clever and suspicious---always a promising combination. There is only one necessary incentive for your cooperation, Leones. Lord Paimon commands it, and you are at his command. Fortunately, there are several others besides that. Access to the heart of the Magistrate. The destruction of the Panopticon. Wresting Archon Nony from his throne, to enjoy him groveling at your feet. If revenge proves insufficient motivation, your mother remains a captive as well. I could petition for her release.”
The same story as before. Not that I expected to catch him in a lie, since he would have prepared his approach ahead of time, but it was worth confirming.
“You promised to do more than petition for her release,” I said. “Swear an oath that if I join the Embers, you’ll free my mother within two months.”
Amadeus’ eyes narrowed. “Six months. Long enough to guarantee a bit of commitment.”
I nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
The Magister touched two fingers to his forehead, then to his chest. “I make an oath on my mind, my soul, my being. Melia Ansteri will be freed contingent on you serving as an Ember for six months. I have a feeling you got the better end of that bargain, boy, but that woman’s fate means nothing to me one way or the other. Now, it's your turn to swear an oath.”
That caught me off guard. I had not expected such a request, but couldn't think of any valid reason to refuse. While I doubted oaths made by others worked across timelines in the sense I couldn't force someone into one, reverse the moment, and still hold them accountable, any that I made would likely remain binding.
I touched my forehead and heart. "I make an oath on my mind, my soul, my being. I will serve as an Ember for six months in exchange for the freedom of my mother, Melia Ansteri."
Nothing happened. For a moment I waited for a rush of vertigo or a mysterious bell chime---anything---but the universe carried on as before. My understanding of oaths was minimal at best. Now that I committed to one, I wished I had researched them more. Usually I would have questioned Amadeus and reversed time to ensure he was unaware of my ignorance, but I did not trust his word enough to risk frivolous use of my power.
Amadeus smiled. "That should prove sufficient.."
"Let's go, then," I said. "And don't walk behind me."
Side by side, we continued down the last stretch of the corridor, past a destroyed stall where my fellow acolyte Caedius had once bought me a sweetbark concoction. Simpler times, right before the cascade of incidents leading to Odena's invasion.
"Why do you want me to join the Embers, anyways?" I said. "I won't become a Magister even if I wanted to. I’ve heard nothing good about taking on multiple powers."
Amadeus clapped a friendly hand on my shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I stepped aside and peeled his fingers away.
"One becomes an Echo through accepting a fragment of a higher being's consciousness," said the Magister as if nothing was the matter. "The consequences of doing this twice tend to be exaggerated. Most people just lack sufficient willpower. But I don't blame you for not wanting to share part of your mind with Archon Nony."
The words of a deranged lunatic meant nothing. He was the ideal warning of what somebody may become if they tempted fate. Thankfully he had dropped the royal 'we' from the first timeline, but that same monster still lurked behind his mask of flesh and bone.
"And the reason you want me to become an Ember?" I repeated.
"Not my idea," was all the Magister said. "Ask Lord Paimon."
Sunlight marked the exit. I was all too happy to emerge and put that place behind me.
The world outside of the Amphitheater looked much like it had before, but a thick tension remained in the air. At least reality no longer had the same dreamy quality from before, during the attempted merge between realms.
The exterior of the Amphitheater was a wide courtyard. The occasional broken cobblestone and statue hinted at the events that had transpired here. No signs of corpses or even blood. Few people would have been in this area, taking refuge at home or some other safe location during the chaos.
Eight people stood within the courtyard.
Four figures in the white robes of the Magistrate clustered together; they wore their characteristic masks, slabs of ivory closely contoured to their faces.
An elegant middle-aged woman with a lotus staff looked to be one of Vishan’s companions. She remained separate from the others, head bowed.
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The remaining three appeared to be Odenans. A dark-skinned Narahven stood in front, arms crossed. The South Wind, Kazal. Loose gray clothing typical of one of the city’s Echoes. A slight distortion around his body drew my attention to how none of the falling snow landed on him.
I had killed his brother and fought with his sister, though in truth none of them were related by blood. If my appearance stirred any sense of recognition, he revealed none of it.
His companions were a pair of brothers, not quite similar enough to be twins. Typical dark Avanchean features, young, boasting swords at their hips. Minimal leather armor, more for appearance’s sake than anything. Their equipment looked as if it had never seen use despite the recent invasion.
The South Wind was unarmed as well. Perhaps they had spent the entire invasion standing around brooding. Granted, the Echo of Wind would be a force to reckon with due to his magic alone. Rumor had it he fought with a combination of martial prowess and a supplemental barrage of wind blades that could strike at any moment.
“Magister,” said Kazal, his voice smooth and unaccented. “Returned to us so soon. And with company.”
Amadeus bowed his head. “This is the fugitive Leones Ansteri. I believe you guaranteed we were free to leave the city without hassle?”
Kazal closed his eyes and raised his face to the heavens. “He has caused much trouble within the city. Barrow is dead. I’ve received no word from Zephyr for a day now. It seems only one contender remains to the title of Archon Vasely. If I guarantee your passage, will you support my claim to the title?”
Magister Amadeus chuckled. “I doubt you need my support to triumph in this case, Kazal. I don’t envy you having to repair this city to its former glory. But if there’s a man suited to the task, you’re the one.”
The Narahven did not so much as acknowledge his words. We slipped past him, towards the cluster of Magisters. Our escape was proceeding more smoothly than expected.
The elegant woman could not restrain herself. “You left Master Vishan alone in there? The only reason I agreed to allow this madness was because you were going to accompany him.”
“The threat has already passed,” said Amadeus. “You saw the Archon of Storms leave. All that remain are people in need of help. Not something that I am too useful at, unfortunately. But your presence may prove helpful.”
The woman folded her arms around her staff. “I was forbidden from entering.”
“Then you may continue standing around, but I have other matters to attend to.” With a hand on my shoulder, Amadeus guided me to his companions.
Resisting the urge to slip away, I allowed him to steer me into the group of Magisters. One of them, a woman with a shock of long blond hair, slipped a pair of heavy manacles around my wrists. There was a hint of apology in her eyes as she did so, and I met it with an uncompromising hatred for her kind.
Who was she to show me pity for this public performance? That alone almost prompted me to abandon this path altogether. I had no interest in whatever story lay behind any of their masks.
We departed the area in silence. The hair on the nape of my neck prickled. as we left; at least one of the people remaining in the courtyard was watching me, perhaps even sweeping their spiritual sense over me. If they found anything interesting, the watcher made no word of it.
Amadeus strolled at my side, as casual as if we were taking a walk through the Gardens. His Magisters spread in front of us in a line, widening the distance between them as we exited onto the main streets. The usual bustle of the city had fallen into an eerie stillness, save for a solitary figure wandering about in a daze.
The blond gestured at the distant person and called out, “Want me to take a look at them?”
Her voice broke through the quiet with such sudden nonchalance that it startled me.
“It’s nothing,” said Amadeus. “Don’t speak unless you must. There are still remnants of the Goetia’s forces in the area and I’d rather not waste our time. Let’s move along.”
“Are these really necessary?” I held up the manacles.
“That goes for you, too,” said Amadeus, casting a sidelong glance my way. He lowered his voice. “Three of them are loyal to me, but I’m not sure about Ettan. He already has his suspicions about what’s going on. He knows who you are, and if we let you walk free, there will be unfortunate questions.”
“Then answer them,” I said through clenched teeth. The helpless prisoner act was already beginning to chafe. “Or I’m finding another way out of here.”
Amadeus heaved a theatrical sigh. “It means that poor Ettan won’t be returning back home. It means I’ll have to pay his poor, ailing mother a visit and explain he died in the line of duty out here. Very annoying.
Some distant part of me wondered which of the masked imbeciles was Ettan. Mostly, I didn’t care.
“You’ll be doing me a favor,” I said. “I won’t complain about one less Magister to deal with.”
Amadeus shrugged and retrieved the key from the blond Magister. After he unlocked the manacles, one of the men glanced over. His gaze lingered for a couple seconds as I rubbed at my wrists. Ettan, presumably. A tall fellow with close-cropped hair. I offered him a mocking little wave and he resumed his steady march forward.
As we passed through the city, we encountered the occasional group of people huddled together. Most of them looked forlorn, holding makeshift weapons or precious belongings. None of them bothered us until we came across a filthy old man bundled in rags.
The vagrant sat with his back against an abandoned home. When he noticed our procession he shot forward and waved his arms with reckless abandon, shouting and waving his arms like a madman.
The closest Magister held up one of his hands in warning. “Stay back.”
The vagrant scratched at his neck with broken fingernails. “W-w-well….well can’t you help a fella…”
A ball of flame manifested in front of the Magister’s outstretched palm. Even this did nothing to deter the vagrant from stumbling forward. Though he appeared to be a lunatic at first glance, his movements were too controlled, too purposeful. As if he could not quite remember how to move like a normal person.
A flicker of alarm. I reached for my void power, started to shout out a warning, then I stopped myself. Why help these people?
The Magister must have come to his own conclusion a moment later. His fireball sped forward. Just before impact the vagrant weaved beneath it with a dancer’s grace. Steel flashed into both of his hands and he flung his arms outward.
The blond Magister reacted in time to defend herself, catching the throwing knife with the meat of her forearm. The Magister who cast the fireball was not so lucky. He pressed his hands to his throat, desperate to stem the bright spurt of blood from the embedded projectile.
Uncoordinated magical attacks blossomed into life around the vagrant. Bursts of flame landed precisely where he was not. A rough pillar of flame erupted from the ground a pace in front of him, but at the last moment he leapt to the side. He must have had some sort of precognition---one of Astaroth’s Echoes, still engaged in a hopeless battle.
“Have you sensed it yet?” said Amadeus.
He looked unimpressed with my surprised stare. With a sigh, he pointed toward the vagrant. A white beam of flame the width of a finger lanced out. Like the other attacks, this too failed to connect with the man, who leapt out of the way with preternatural grace. Instead of following the initial target, the laser continued sweeping through the wooden building behind him.
A powerful hissing sound tore through the air. From the flimsy building erupted a mass of gold and black flesh. In a spray of splinters and broken tiles, membranous wings spread out to their full span; multicolored whorls played along their length in hypnotic patterns. The demon’s left wing, however, twitched and flickered. Streaks of tissue had been incinerated along the bottom, and the beam had turned half of its chitinous thorax into a smoking ruin.
Amadeus snapped and the beam split into a dozen threads that twisted about the butterfly, wrapping it in an intricate cocoon. The creature could only flap its wings a couple more times before the threads of flame constricted. Chunks of neatly cauterized demon rained from the sky. The stench was nauseating, the rotten egg of sulfur mixed with charred meat.
Distracted by the demon’s fate and no longer possessing the element of surprise, the vagrant fell under a concentrated barrage from the other Magisters. Scorched flagstones and a burning building made a fitting graveyard for one of Astaroth’s Echoes. With a wave of his hand, Amadeus extinguished the active fighters in the area.
The blond, Ettan, and other male Magister crowded around the lifeless form of their companion. Blood ruined the hems of their white robes---hard to believe a human body contained so much, that it could drain out of a neck wound so fast. They looked back at Amadeus for guidance.
“Take his mask,” said the Head Magister. “We will honor him with a grand funeral as soon as we are back in Velassa. But we have no time to waste. Give him the rites and we move on.”
The others accepted his command without comment. They did take the time to arrange his body into a somewhat respectable pose, hands folded onto his chest. The woman set a silver denarius over each of the man’s eyes and muttered a quick prayer. Amadeus observed the proceedings with a suitably mournful expression, and even ignited the man’s corpse with his own white-hot magic.
I pressed my forearm against my lower face to fend off the miasma of burning flesh. Memories from so long ago. My tutor Everett, incinerated in the front yard of my family manor. The Magistrate burning my family manor down around me. I forced myself to watch the short-lived pyre until Amadeus’ magic turned the body to ash.
Throughout the entire encounter I felt nothing besides an unease with the presence of so much fire. A detached horror when recounting that nightmarish day for the thousandth time. Watching these random fools kill each other meant nothing to me. All of it may as well have been a play performed for my benefit.
When we walked away, I didn’t bother looking back. The past was irrelevant. All that mattered was the future. Velassa, and hundreds of Magisters not yet polite enough to die.