8. Breaking Bad

Light smacked across Boris from eight directions, casting fragmented shadows around him. Each shadow was small fluctuant shade of gray. Penumbras that circled him in doubt. Boris refused to acknowledge them, turning his sight to scan the scanty audience.

The prince wasn’t here yet. Barely ten people sat to his right. Four of his friends sat doubtful and confused. Ray and Sylvia were both openly against this duel, while Claire was subtly disdainful. They watched with little hope, ready to burst in to save his sorry soul if it went too far.

Ray sat straight and alert, scanning the grounds and looking for the opponent who had yet to arrive. Sylvia was more interested in Ray, but she did her part to keep an eye on Boris. Claire was snuggling to Ray, pretending to get a closer look on Boris. All right, maybe Ray was the only one actually concerned at all. Boris watched his position enviously. If the prince didn’t arrive soon he made up his mind to challenge Ray instead. He needed an outlet for all that envy sometime.

The summoning chambers had been turned into an arena, they were well suited to all such tasks. Eight tall columns held blazing blue orbs upon their helm. The orbs illuminated parts of columns, leaving the rest concealed in small pockets of darkness. It made the columns look like they were floating.

The lighting was much brighter and practical, unlike the first day when it had looked theatrical. Boris could now see the arches end in an octagonal apex, engraved with patterns reminiscent of vines. A small triangular glyph was located in the center, similar to the one that had summoned them.

Boris followed an arch down to a pillar that was half-embedded in the wall. The pier length was plastered in grey to match the walls and the floor. A single tortuous vine ran down it in red glamour, only to hide behind the seats for audience. Elaine sat farthest back, her figure glowing in the bright light. The black of her hair merged with the shadow behind her, flowing down infinitely. She looked at Boris in abandonment, her eyes narrowing in the light. Boris did not understand her.

It was after a proper discussion that Boris had been allowed the right to fight. Violet had been angry, Elaine had been exasperated and his friends were all shocked. The knight Arthur had also come along, furious at learning the misdemeanor Boris had displayed towards a prince. He was ready to cut Boris in half, then and there, if not for the timely intervention of Grey.

Boris had dealt with the commotion effectively, saying he didn’t have time to deal with them while Grey calmed and reasoned with them. Violet followed the routine by washing him in water and heat blowing him dry, but Boris persevered. Elaine was the first to accept, she did not even once voice an objection, “Do what you want,” she had told Boris in a soft voice. All her turbid emotions had faded away at his resolution.

Boris was pleased to have her approval. He immediately responded, “I will fight,” and Elaine took it with well, she just walked away without a word.

‘Why does she feel so annoyed now? She never voiced any complaints yesterday.’

Regardless, Boris turned his eyes to the guest of honor, the princess Maina. She sat in Elaine’s lap, according her the height to see him clearly. Her eyes were doubtful and her face worried, Boris apologized mentally. He turned away to see the rest.

Between the heroes on the first rung and Elaine at the back sat Violet with two other mages. She was tired, and possibly irritated. She stroked at her ginger hair and wrested with her staff. The events yesterday must have left her so. There was a sharp piercing glare coming from beside her where Arthur sat, his green eyes ready to burn a hole in Boris. Boris paid him no heed.

The double doors creaked open, bringing in a much-needed draft of air to the insipid underground. Boris watched the prince emerge as the doors slowly parted. He had a long flowing robe of red that concealed his armor, leaving only his iron-studded boots to the view as he strutted down in practiced delay. Each step put a stiff slap on the stone staircase. His gait was a curiosity to Boris, it always felt like he was walking down an incline, looking down on everybody.

Boris shrugged as he glanced at the entourage behind the prince. There was young man with large reddish ears and crooked nose. His head had been shaved and a pattern of black coursed down his neck. His height matched Welmar, his eyes vigilant. Probably a Scythian. The way he closely followed the prince, he looked like personal guard. It was the first time Boris had seen him, he wondered why he did not accompany the prince earlier. The king stood far behind him, his wavy hair wobbling in descent.

Following the prince were familiar faces. The four counsels, their faces the same smarmy masks of servitude. Behind them, Grey looked down at him through a twinkle, his robe still gleaming with nocturnal charm in the bright light. He smiled encouragingly, the only support that Boris got since the morning. The dangerous elf woman was beside Grey. Her emerald eyes were filled with intrigue as they met Boris. Boris flinched at the predatory eyes. He quickly glanced back to the side to find Elaine slightly darker, a small pout forming on her lips.

The prince reached the end of stairs and allowed the attendants to take down his robe. As Boris expected, prince Flynn had mostly worn light leather, a metal chest piece and guards at his joints being the exception. There was no helmet. He was either not strong enough to wear full body armor yet, or he regarded this match too easy, or both. It would prove his downfall.

Flynn walked forward in confidence, giving him a haughty smile. Boris returned it with scorn and glare. He got up from his position across the prince and walked towards the center. He wore a leather half-jacket over a dark green shirt, his long sleeves ending in leather gloves. His muddy brown pants were worn over black leather shoes. Boris was dressed light, ready to run away. In a statement of style he pulled his left glove over his sleeve as he walked, then ruffled his hair lightly as he winked at the audience. Nobody gasped.

Three long metallic poles were slung behind him, a wooden buckler on his back and several pouches at his waist. He gripped his weapon with his left hand, the slingshot hung in a harness at his right thigh. The prince snorted.

Most others had reactions of mixed curiosity and disbelief. Even though he had practiced with it yesterday, people still found it difficult to believe that he would actually be using a sling.

“It’s a toy!” Maina remarked from the back.

It was not a toy. It was built of Tudwin oak and slime elastic, faster and better than any sling in the world. The slimes were a miracle if they could produce such material, it was tensile enough to launch a rock half his size if needed. Boris held the sling like a sword, ready to pull it out before him. He paid no heed to the few giggles.

“I was thinking what you would use,” prince Flynn spoke as he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, “but to think you would use a toy. Thoughtless and useless. I guess an inept will always be inept, unable to grasp the art of war.”

“You never know,” Boris replied tersely. He now stood about twenty feet away from the prince, both near the center. His right hand was in a pouch at his waist, his left held the sling firmly.

Everyone else but Grey had occupied their seats. Grey stood a fair distance away at the edge, the overseer for the duel. He announced, “I am the overseer for the duel between His Highness the third prince of Cumaria, Flynn Dorham Salvem and Boris Debron, companion to the heroes. No one is to intrude unless I explicitly permit so,” then eyed Boris and Flynn, “Both of you must contend unless one admits defeat or is unable to continue. Killing is not allowed under any circumstances. Area effect magic is prohibited upon areas beyond the ground. Leaving the arena amounts to surrender. Do you both understand this?” he uttered the rules loudly, his staff aloft in the air.

Both of them nodded. There was no need for formalities; this duel was being held away from prying eyes after all. That was the reason for choosing the underground chamber.

“Then…” Grey paused.

Boris tapped the ground lightly as he bent into a stance. It was hard rock. The prince himself bent forward, ready to bolt.

A small line of flare erupted from Grey’s staff as he said, “Begin.”

A projectile left Boris’s sling as Flynn stepped in, and leapt straight at Flynn’s face. Flynn grinned threateningly as he drew his enchanted sword in a flash and met the stone with an upward swipe. It was a fast, precise slash that slid through the stone, parting it in an enchanted glow.

Flynn’s smile disappeared as the stone exploded immediately, covering his face in a cloud of dust. It was sparkle sand, the one Violet had used during summoning. Sparkle sand reacted to any magic activation, bursting into a dazzle on contact. It was popular during festivals.

The prince coughed in the abrasive cloud of dust. Two more stones flung in before he could see them, hitting his face in well-placed accuracy. Boris spared Flynn no rest as he attacked. He flipped one of the metal rods behind him simultaneously and it fell with a thud, standing straight on its stone base. The shaft was segmented and bent like a fishing rod, with small bristles on its surface.

Flynn groaned as he flung forward, trying to escape the dust and catch up to Boris at the same time. His face bore scratches and wounds, his eyes visibly angry and red with dust. “You!” a yell escaped his lips as he tried to close the distance, anger overpowering his senses. His sword was still held in defense.

Boris retreated slowly, shooting stones and projectiles at the prince. One hurled at the shoulder was dodged, another at the face was dodged, the third hit the shin in practiced effort and the prince cringed a little as he glared. The glare earned him a head shot and he roared. It was irritating but the hits were painful. The stones were heavier than he expected. He was trying to avoid the stones in precaution, but the hits he received convinced him he could not dodge as he advanced.

Flynn shifted and turned trying a curved pathway to Boris. Boris took note as he dropped a second metal rod behind him and turned to face the prince. His hand went into the pouch, retrieving the next set of arsenal. Flynn took the moment to fling a fireball, swiftest of elemental magic. Boris dodged the incoming fireball well. The practice with Violet was beginning to pay off.

Boris reacted swiftly, his left wrist flicked the sling back a little and his right instantly loaded the next projectile while gripping the elastic. At least in slingshots, Boris was an expert. It behaved like a semi-automatic in his hands.

The next shot hit Flynn’s left hand, the one he was using to cast magic. Boris could not afford to give him time to utilize magic. Even as Flynn flicked his left hand in annoyance, he received another shot to the face. It burst like a balloon, spilling liquids over his cheek and brows. He screamed in irritation as the liquid grazed his left eye and cheek. It was Parlen sap, a material used in crimson dyes that also happened to be extremely itchy. Boris had experienced it firsthand in the crafts market.

Flynn was now seething. The left side of his face bathed red and itched horrendously, yet he could not afford to scratch the itch. He had his hands full with dodging the volley of shots that targeted him regularly, impeding his speed and preventing him from casting spells. Even elemental magic was now difficult to use in his state of mind.

“You coward! Face me like a man!” he challenged Boris, flinging a lightning bolt at him. The bolt curved lightly and missed as Boris dodged. ‘Not yet’ Boris mused. The rod at his back was flickering and sparking lightly.

“Come and get me your haughtiness!” Boris taunted as he stepped back. He needed to maintain a proper distance. Too close and Flynn would get him, too far and his aim would wander. The prince was already avoiding some of his shots well, any more would prove a chance at retaliation. He would not give Flynn any chance to seize the flow.

Flynn withdrew his sword and ran at Boris, casting wind elemental magic to repel the stones. They exploded again, creating clouds of sparkling dust that hindered his vision. Other stones still found purchase through the cloud and efficiently came at him. He could barely see Boris’s feet as they retreated slowly behind the cloud, each with an accompanying volley of stones. ‘Running away from me? That coward!’

Flynn chased after Boris as the dust dissipated, choosing to ignore the pain and endure the stones as he concentrated on preparing his first spell. It took a huge toll on his mind, but it would be worth it. It would tear through the stones into Boris. It would blow him back to dust. His ambitions took a toll as the last pair of stones came at his feet. They whirled around with a piece of elastic between them, catching his feet as they wrapped around and brought him down in his momentum. His eyes widened as he tasted ground, and the spell dissipated before it could be launched.

The prince lay in shame of the stone floor, a metal rod stood on each side in contempt.

Maina watched in unease. Elaine had warned her not to interfere. “It is a duel, a fight between men with their honor on the line,” she had told Maina. “Why do they fight?” Maina had asked in worry, surely all fights were bad. “Because men are stupid,” Elaine replied calmly, “they don’t know any other way.” Her tone had been harsher than normal so Maina had shied from more questions.

As the duel progressed, Maina found herself edging closer and closer to the scene. She had leapt off Elaine’s lap and climbed down rung upon rung to get a look. Elaine followed closely. Maina did not hate her brother but neither did she hate Boris. They were both important to her. Her brother was always harsh but he was the only sibling who visited her often, the older siblings rarely came and always said they were too busy. Boris paid attention to Maina even when he said he was busy, Maina liked that. Now they were both fighting to get hurt and Maina could not stop them. She had a faint understanding that it was the quarrel with her brother that somehow led to this and this worried her more.

“One of them has to lose,” Elaine had told her and then asked inadvertently, “who do you want to lose?”

Maina looked at her brother on the ground as she asked herself childishly, ‘who should lose?’

Flynn raised his head up from the ground to look at Boris, his stubborn eyes burned with anger and refused to admit defeat. Boris looked down upon him and smirked disdainfully. Boris was not pelting stones anymore, sure of victory.

Flynn smiled under his breath. This was far from over. He weakly supported himself on his left arm as he extended his right. He imagined the most powerful form of lightning, capable of ripping stones and charring trees and it burst alive. The result was unexpected, instead of sprinting straight his lightning split apart. He gazed in wonder as the rods on either side feasted upon it in a million sparks.

Boris watched as it emerged, the perfect moment. A smile of deep satisfaction crossed his lips as he shot a large ball of sparkle dust into the curtain of lightning before him.

Three conditions were essential. First was lightning, Boris was sure Flynn would use it sometime. The second was distraction, the prince had to be distracted to not dodge the ball. The third was time, the lightning had to last long enough for the ball to explode within, since most lightning magic were instantaneous. The metal rods had served the last two requirements. They grounded the lightning and dazed the prince as he continued to produce more of it.

The ball exploded with a terrifying blast of lighting. It screeched and screamed and howled as it expanded to burst. It drowned all noises and deafened the audience, it blinded them the same. It was what needed to happen, sparkle sand contained metal dust after all. Boris had only experimented on a small scale earlier, but he expected this as he dove to the ground in cover. The air bellowed against his face, crying in hot agony and abrasive force.

And it was over, Flynn lay in the middle with his armor scorched and his hair singed. His face was in shock, his eyes disconcerted and his mouth half open. He looked at Boris in half-terror and half-disbelief.

But it was not over, the injuries were tolerable. His armor was obviously enchanted for defense under such circumstances. Flynn stood up weakly, removing the restraints wrapped around his legs. He could not lose. Even if Boris was a monster, he could not lose. As the prince of Cumaria it was his duty to win no matter the enemy. He had underestimated Boris but he would not lose. A bout of strength put him to his feet. His face was already burning, his eyes painful and his breath chaotic. He struggled with his sword as Boris approached, wrestled to hold it straight but Boris struck it down.

“Your Haughtiness, have you heard of groin guards?” It was soft whisper. Flynn’s eyes widened as intolerable pain flared from his groin. His words did not find the wind to escape and he collapsed back, this time on his spine.

Boris pinned Flynn’s hands as he mounted him. His face was a mask of rage as he smacked Flynn alert with a smack. “Do you know what a sister is?” he talked in acrimonious tones. “Do you understand the value of family, you little runt? It is not something that can be replaced. Cherish the bonds of blood, or you will loath yourself for it.”

The prince only glared back in defiance. He struggled to get back up, his hands finding little purchase to do so. “I will crush you,” threatened the prince. As long as he was willing to fight and able to move the duel would not end.

“Let me show you what a sister is?” Boris sighed as he pulled out a dagger in broad light. It was wooden, but for anyone who saw it, it would appear real. Marvin’s gift was perfect. It was distinct threat to kill. A violation of rules.

Yet before Grey could warn him, before anybody could react, a shrill voice tore through the air in alarming urgency, “Nooooo!” screamed Maina at the top of her lungs. It jerked at everyone present suddenly. Maina intruded into the arena grounds without a care for rules.

Boris threw the dagger away, dismounting from Flynn to sit beside him. “See,” he told him, “That is a sister.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes as a stone flew over Boris. The pain in his groin was receding, giving him a chance to regain.

“Get away!” Maina cried vehemently as she approached closer. Her childish tone was overflowing with sorrow. Her eyes were watering incessantly. Her legs were trembling as she picked up another stone that Boris had flung away and threw it in the air, missing Boris. “Evil eyes! Get away from brother! Get away! Get away!” she whimpered and scrambled. A flurry of stones followed, each getting closer as Maina approached at Boris. A few hit his shoulders innocently.

Boris had earlier requested Grey not to intervene if Maina violated the rules, no matter what happened. Grey sighed now that he understood what Boris had meant. He shook his head at Elaine, stopping her in her tracks even as the rest were still in awe.

Another stone hit Boris square. This time a small streak of blood flowed from his temple. He was not strong like the prince. His clothes hid no enchantments.

“Hey pathetic brother,” Boris picked up Flynn by the scruff of his collar, glaring into his eyes as he spoke, “the princess wants to see her hero… show her.”

Flynn narrowly found Maina in the corner of his eyes. She was weeping and distraught, pelting stones at Boris. He did not think anymore. He took a deep breath, garnering every bit of his last strength into his fist. A small enchantment sat upon his gloves as he smacked Boris. A spell of wind exploded.

Boris was flung a few feet over the ground, collapsing into the dirt. Just with one direct hit his bones hurt, his body shuddered and his breath lost itself to distress. He was weak, but it mattered not. He would be strong when it mattered. Boris gasped a heavy breath as he collapsed, fainting away.

“Brother!” Maina cried as she leapt into Flynn. He held her weakly by his right arm as he supported the rest of his weight on his left. Maina stuffed her tearful face into his chest as she cried, “I am sorry! I am sorry! I am sorry –sniff-brother!-sniff- I won’t go with evil eyes! I will-sniff- listen to you, I am sorry!” her voice broke out in sobs as she shivered in his arms.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Maina… ” Flynn brushed her head while supporting her back. He looked curiously into the distance at the collapsed Boris. Then he collapsed.

The audience sat spellbound at the entire spectacle, struggling to make sense of it. No cheers rose, no cries exclaimed, no congratulations resounded. They sat glued and transfixed, witnesses to one of the unthinkable. The counsels sat with pale faces and wide eyes, muttering contrivances to each other. Arthur looked with a stern, confounded look. Violet stood shocked and dazed. Time stood still since the blast, creating questions and doubts.

Elaine held her head in a conundrum, this was not what she had expected. She did warn him he could not win, she just didn’t specify it. There was a bit of pride in his actions, an element of overwhelming surprise and a lot of ambiguous mystery. From the ominous look on the faces of counsels and the confusion spread about, things were bound to end poorly. She sighed. If only he had lain low, this wouldn’t have happened.

Diana did not share her concern. An eerie smile sat on her lips as her eyes devoured the scene, settling upon Boris. Weak, almost like an elven child. Witty, at least from how he had dealt with this. And sharp, from the way he fluently spoke Humarian. It was worth her interest. He was a not a puppet of the kingdom and they would have nightmares keeping him now. Humans were so distrustful; anything they couldn’t comprehend was a threat. Her lips curved more.

King Durham sat in a daze. He was hoping for his son to teach the inept a lesson. He had pegged the boy as an inept, but now Boris seemed to be something completely different. To twist the magic upon itself? Ominous, threatening, evil. ‘By Thiracus! What have we summoned?’

Grey declared the end of the duel aloud, breaking the audience out of their reveries.

The duel was invalidated until further results.

………….

Boris had the dream again. It was that horrendous creature with many arms, or mouths, he could not tell. He stood before it fearlessly, drawing a glyph he had devised himself. Ray was slashing away at the creature, provoking his rage while Claire distracted it with her arrows. Restraints of yin grew out of the earth to fetter it, snapped at its strength and grew again as they were torn off. Sylvia was in charge of the restraints. Violet stood healing them with all her might as she covered Boris. Boris worked on the glyph in a trance, unmindful of the creature as he used his tools. They were strange tools, a compass the size of his arm and a huge wooden protractor. He engraved runes into the glyph with a probe, and poured concoctions into it. All the while the creature raged mercilessly, bellowing threats in the shivering air.

A restraint tore as an arm got free, or was it a mouth? It approached Boris in imminent threat. Before it could harm Boris, the glyph was activated. Violet poured immense mana into it while chanting the runes and the magic tore through the creature, engulfing it in a dark prison of defeat and consuming it.

Boris exclaimed jubilantly at the victory—

Boris felt the cold touch of water interrupt his dream, his throat was wet and his face damp. He opened his eyes slowly, frustrated that his dream had been interrupted. He tried to blink away in the sunlight that coursed through the room.

“Finally you get up.” Violet stood by her side. She looked more exhausted and prickly than earlier as she lectured, “How many times do you plan to do these reckless actions? Do you even know how dangerous it is? It takes a lot of effort to heal you, you know. The way your body is, I would not be surprised if it collapsed me instead in trying to heal you.” She bantered even as her eyebrows relaxed, a little relief evident on her sweating face.

Boris eyed the mature expression on her childish face, noticing the effort from her out-of-breath voice, and felt guilt. He got up promptly, sitting with little effort.

“I am sorry Violet, I did not want to trouble you…” he wanted to speak more but words stopped. He just tried to bow his head in apology. His eyes fell on the bed he lay, blankets covering him.

“Now you say sorry?! After you did all that! You made me the test subject yesterday you know, had me whirl all that magic for your fun. And what for? It was disaster, you blew the prince and fainted yourself, the princess bawled her eyes out, nothing ended well. What was your plan again?” Violet continued chiding him, relieving her stress. If it could calm her, Boris would gladly bear it. The archimage had done much for him and he was grateful from his heart for her help. Even now, he could feel no pain, his wounds had been healed and he felt refreshed.

“I apologize Violet, it was my fault. I am really grateful for all your help you know. I know I caused a mess but that was the only way I could think of. Forgive me will you? You can even punish me if you want, I gladly accept whatever you ask.” Sincerity was the only thing Boris could muster right now. And he mustered it well, his eyes wide open and resolute as he looked at Violet. He was not sure how people would take his duel afterwards, only that prince would at least know what he wanted to say.

“H-hmpff,” Violet puffed childishly at him, turning her head slightly as she stroked her orange hair in an attempt to hide her face. “As- as long as you get it, it’s alright. Don’t do that again, I- I worry you know,” her voiced deflated like a balloon. If Boris could see her face, he would notice a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you Violet. I like that part of you,” Boris tried to compliment the generosity of the girl.

“I-I get it alright. Geez, it’s creepy when you start behaving like that,” she complained as she turned her face further, knocking him one on his head.

Boris held his head as the dream resurfaced. It felt strange now, foreboding. He considered it, delved into it, asked of it. It was all wrong. He was acting on compulsions. He was trying to be part of something he was not. It was how Ray was behaving on his first day, eager to be a hero. What Boris was dreaming was to follow the same path. But did he actually want that?

Had his subconscious had given form to that?

‘No, what have they done to me?!’

It was not his dream. It was his curse. He was not a shadow of the heroes. He was not a hero, and he never wanted to be. He crushed that lucid dream within his clenched fist. He needed to change, now. Here.

Boris looked around to find the room vacant.

“Where are the others? What about the duel?”

“It was invalidated. They are discussing it right now.”

Boris climbed down immediately, brushing away the blankets as he turned towards Violet. “Take me there,” he requested, there were things he needed to say. It was only now that his head was becoming clear. Decisions were sprouting and obstacles were falling. ‘I cannot stay here anymore,’ Boris had decided.

“I just healed you and you want to go mess up again,” Violet scowled.

“Trust me Violet, this is important.”

Violet sighed, shrugged her shoulders in reluctant agreement as she led him outside.

…………

“I tell you, he is accursed! No mage can do that. An inept? Never!” Rorik was speaking in a grim tone, elaborating the mystery of the duel.

“He is not,” Ray tried to explain, “Those were just tricks.”

“I agree with him, Your Majesty. The boy employed no dark magic that I could see,” Elaine supported his claim.

“But he made the magic go berserk,” King Durham replied in a daze, “I have never even heard of a Pixar that could do that.”

“Because he didn’t do that, he just used some scientific tricks to break it,” Ray tried to explain. He had been putting forward the same argument over and over. No one seemed to be accepting it.

“I understand that you want to say that the laws of your world were used. But our world is different, magic does not simply surrender to alien laws. If it did, thousands of civilizations would have collapsed.” Another counsel substantiated.

Ray shook his head in annoyance. How could these people be so blind?

“A curse, I did warn you sire!” Rorik spoke perilously.

“Please, it is a mere misunderstanding on our part,” Elaine tried to reason. “Where is grand meister Grey? Surely he can shed some light on the issue.”

“Flynn fell to exhaustion. Grand meister Grey is looking after him,” the king explained, “I would rather not call him now.”

Elaine held her head. It was getting worse by the moment. They would expel him, throw him out in their dirty prejudice.

“How do you explain everything till now then?” she asked finally, “Someone who cannot even wield an ounce of magic suddenly twisted it all?”

“Ah, but see he did twist it,” Mirak said somberly.

‘Sneaky knave!’ Elaine cursed him internally, ‘I shall see to you.’

“And it was very dangerous,” Arthur added fuel to the fire, “I doubt His Highness Flynn would have survived if he used that twist again.” His voice was declamatory, simmering in darker tones.

“It was not a twist!” Elaine tried to deny.

“But you just said it was,” Kailer added.

‘These scheming foxes! How long has this been in works,’ Elaine was beginning to have darker thoughts.

“And it would explain the summoning,” Mirak added.

“The summoning?” the king asked in morbid surprise.

“Six times we failed, sire. Ominous, the number six, the Oracle of Thiracus has always warned us that it speaks for the devil. But for whom did we fail? Surely not archimage Violet, she is a prodigy beyond age, the granddaughter of a Warlock. Then whom? The fourth one, the devil’s work…” Mirak fed him cleverly and the king digested it.

It made a vague sense. And vague interpretations were effective. The king finally realized why the summoning had failed, why it was that four had come instead of three.

“I say we rid him,” a dark, haunted voice spoke.

“You will not kill him!” Ray roared, standing up in protest.

“Sit down Ray,” Arthur ordered sternly, “Your companion made a cowardly attempt at the life of His Highness the prince Flynn, in the midst of an honorable duel before esteemed witnesses. What but death is justified then?”

“For God’s sake! It was a wooden dagger, we examined it thoroughly,” Ray retorted. He was missing Sylvia’s brains here. She could have countered these fools out their minds. But the king only ever allowed one representative, and they all agreed it would have to be him.

“And what makes you think he could not kill with that?” Mirak questioned him, “He made the magic twist with a paltry stone. Surely he could kill with a wooden dagger.”

Ray widened his eyes in anger, “He did not!”

“Quiet,” the king ordered him. Ray sat back grumpily.

“I beg your pardon Your Majesty,” Elaine spoke in a voice now strained, “but may I request your mercy in this regard. The boy never intended any harm, I can vouch for his innocence.”

“It does not change the fact that he is a threat, Lady Elaine,” the king replied, “We cannot have him stay here anymore. Even shall I perchance pardon his life, I do not want him in this castle, or anywhere nearby.”

“But you promised—

“He did not.” Ray had barely begun when the loud opening of doors interrupted him. Boris walked in straight, meeting each face in the room as eyes widened. The counsels shifted uncomfortably at his visage. Behind him, Violet walked pensively.

He had heard everything, not that it mattered.

He looked around the chamber, examining the room where he was first pronounced an inept. The sunlight could no longer hide those darker facets. He looked at the familiar occupants. The king sat at the helm, the counsels around him. Ray and Elaine sat opposite to each other and Arthur sat beside Elaine. He received a disapproving glare, as always. Diana sat at the other end, playing the silent spectator.

Boris smiled rather eerily, his eyes drooping into an evil stare. His lips contorted briefly as he observed both Elaine and Ray. They were playing a lost war.

“For one, Ray, it was Welmar who promised it. You cannot hold the king to those words,” Boris spoke with a practiced ease towards the shocked Ray. He now realized what Elaine’s words had meant.

“You do realize you cannot win?”

It was a warning. That he should not try to win, yet he should not lose either. It was a paradox. He would lose whether he won or lost.

“For another,” Boris continued towards the silent faces in the room, “what was promised was treatment on par with heroes. Not the right to reside in the castle. Not any conveniences either.” Boris was just splitting hairs, but he had no doubt the king would side with him. And in a kingdom, it was the king that mattered.

“You! What are you even saying? Do you know—

“He speaks the truth,” the King pronounced in a heavy theatrical voice, cutting off Ray’s disbelief.

Boris smiled at the obvious reaction. Elaine eyed him with a fiery anger, her rage was provoked further and it had just found a new target. “Boris,” Elaine spoke scathingly, “you have no right to decide such matters.”

“As you say Miss Elaine, it is above my stature to comment on such matters and it also creates an ethical issue,” Boris accepted her scorn. He still shivered; her eyes could drown him away and consume him. Her mask of terror made him flinch. But something had sparked, changed him. He was prepared to ride that wave out.

“Which is why I say, it is you all who decide,” Boris spoke, trying to sink his words into the dreaded room. “Have a fair vote, each one of you. Those that want me here and those that want me gone, it is the numbers that matter after all.” He never mentioned the option of a death penalty.

Elaine narrowed her eyes at the obvious deception he had laid. Violet stood quietly behind him, shuffling her feet in unease. Both of them knew it, that it was a snare.

“That sounds fair,” Arthur accepted sordidly. His hair now seemed dark and sinister, his eyes filled with grime. But his lips smiled, twisted up in satisfaction.

“I agree, it is only fair that every person gets an opinion,” King Durham spoke with poorly concealed connivance, “Then, those who want him gone, raise their hands.”

Seven arms were raised aloft, Diana included. She received the priciest of glares with blithe insouciance.

“In the presence of sacred witnesses, by the authority of the King of Cumaria, I hereby pronounce Boris Debron expelled.”

Elaine gritted her teeth quietly as she tried to voice an objection. But she had lost, Boris had pulled the axe on his own legs. She looked at him in abandonment. Now she had questions, and she wanted answers of him. But he shied away from her eyes. It irked her.

Boris smiled faintly beneath his face. It was done. A huge load was off his shoulders. He could be what he wanted now, and he had cleverly avoided the death sentence.

“Do you understand what that means?” Ray asked him flatly. This guy was still concerned.

“It means that this is not my place Ray, I am not a hero and I do not intend to be. Let me be.”

“Let you be where? How do you intend to survive? Is this where you pull out a hidden stash? ‘cause I am waiting.”

“About that,” Diana interrupted finally, her eyes twinkling with mild curiosity as she eyed Boris, “Boris Debron, how would you like to visit Cylia?”

Ray faltered, Violet frowned, Elaine glowered and Boris smiled, ear to ear. “It would be an honor.”

“There,” Diana replied, “problem solved.”

“What?” “No!” “Are you an idiot?”

“It’s alright Ray, I am sure Sylvia and Claire would agree that I would bring you down,” Boris reassured. They would not actually, but they would highly appreciate a monopoly over Ray.

“Why do you care about that?”

“I do not. So you should not either. Let me live my life without your bounds.”

Ray felt himself burst. A whole lot of anger that he had accumulated since the morning came flooding out, “Get lost then! Run away to the ludicrous nation of pointy ears. What is this about exactly? What is your problem? Do you want to die that bad? See if I care when I see your corpse tomorrow! I will throw it vultures and hogs, and have the dogs split the remains. Goddammit! What the heck is wrong with this world! Goddammit!”

The King and his counsels watched in trepidation as Ray erupted with the choicest of curses, a string of inane words that seemed more cryptic than arcane magic. Boris grimaced and Elaine held her head in dismay. It was a wreck.

“Alright, alright,” Diana dispersed the meeting as she assuaged Ray. Then she hushed Boris out, telling him to pack up everything he needed.

The audience dispersed after the altercation, until only Elaine and Diana remained.

Elaine gave Diana a harsh, accusatory glare, trying to drive a confession out of her. Diana did not budge, only bent softly to utter, “Don’t worry, I am just borrowing your pup.”

Elaine scowled, “It does not matter to me what he does.” She narrowed her eyes at Diana before turning her face away, “That said, I would be grateful if you could take care him. Teach him survival… Don’t let him die.” Her voice turned a little pale at the end, as if she half-expected an adverse fate. She put a hand on her hair, brushing it off her subtly pointed ears.

Diana smiled curiously. It was an interesting expression to witness on Elaine. Surely, that boy was something interesting. She would love for her own boredom to be cured.

………….

Boris sat in the garden during the evening, feeling lonely. He had already received his parting gifts in due order. A slap on each cheek, courtesy of Sylvia and Claire. Rose red ears, courtesy of Elaine. And a stubbed toe, courtesy of the merciful Violet. Why were all the women so violent? He didn’t even need a duel to lose to them. Boris abhorred these parting gifts, slowly rubbing a hand on his painful ear. There was a gift he missed though. He longed for the nosy brat to come and pull his hairs bald. But he knew she wouldn’t.

He flipped lazily through the pages of a book in reflex. The tome was titled, ‘Peculiarities and interpretation of arcane magic systems’ and if it had been any thicker, Boris could have used it as a seat. Its yellow pages had dulled with time and yet they bore no signs of use, crisp and clear. Perhaps nobody bothered with this monstrosity.

Boris himself had only picked it on a whim. He wasn’t much interested in the library. He had already grasped Cylian as much as he could. He had even learnt Suren pretty well. Any further improvement required native speakers, and the two he knew, he refrained from approaching. Even in magic, he had hit a bottleneck. Grey had taught him some Pedantic spells but understanding them well meant he needed to understand arcane magic, something really cryptic and abstruse, as he gained from the book. He wondered if Grey would give him some pointers. He wondered what the wizened mage would say about his decision. He would likely just take it in stride, like a lively old man.

Boris shut the book close as he pulled a cap over his eyes, expecting a siesta to follow his leisure. The cap had been one of the purchases he had made at the market. He wanted to thank Grey for providing him with money and everything else. The old mage had been a great help, just like Violet.

“So you are still here?” a sharp voice called him out.

He was surprised to find Diana before him. He was also curious.

“I do not mean to offend you, but why help me?”

“Because it looked interesting,” Diana replied without a smirk.

“It did?”

“Yes. Now for my question, why did you choose to throw away the duel?”

“Because it didn’t matter. I achieved what I wanted, the results were irrelevant.”

“And what do you want now?”

“I want to change,” Boris peered at the graying sky above, trying to hold it within.

“You will,” Diana spoke in a tone neither demeaning nor complacent. She disappeared abruptly, leaving him with the scent of hope.

…….….