As soon as he woke up from his deep slumber, Derrick shielded his eyes from the intense glare of the morning sun. His head was spinning like a top, and it felt like he had been dead to the world for the last few days.
While attempting to sit up in the rocking bed, his attention was drawn to the person perched on the edge of the bed. The guy was perfectly conked out; he was sitting on a three-legged stool, drooling, and seemed to be his age.
Where was he this time? His memories were hazy, inconsistent, and as blank as they could be. The last thing he dimly recalled was the savage fahltyr, which had snatched his leg and wouldn’t let go.
Even now, he could feel the surreal pain that crippled his entire body. The rest of his recollections had gone up in smoke. But he had survived against all odds and was now safe. How? Did Kiano somehow make it back to the grim fortress and come to his rescue?
He scanned his surroundings. The room didn’t give away where he was.
There wasn’t much furniture, and the floorboards looked infested with critters and whatnot. His childhood home was in no better condition, but this place looked right on neglected. It felt like no one had lived here for over a decade.
His unfocused eyes soon shifted to the shabby door opposite the draped bed, and he scowled at the odd spectacle. But not for long.
He peeked under the chequered blanket as a thought crossed his mind, and much to his surprise, he noted that his leg was unscathed. Yet he could still feel the unbearable twinge of pain in his leg, so how come there wasn’t even a single scratch on it?
He was on the verge of dying the second that fahltyr dug its sharp, misshapen teeth into his leg – he knew – for he had witnessed his orbs of life float to the heavens back in the fortress and felt how his limbs turned cold and the beat of his heart slowed down to the cadence of the sparkles. But he was alive and well now.
Kiano, the sorcerer from Lordôm, couldn’t even unlock their cell despite who he was, so who had brought him back to life? His eyes landed on the stranger as these questions occupied his inquiring mind.
No matter how much he twisted and turned his head, he couldn’t call this person to mind. He cracked a bitter smile as he studied the pretty guy. His hands were small and delicate, and there wasn’t a single scratch on his bare skin.
There was no way someone could escape Lordôm without putting up a fight. So who in the world was this, he wondered, an aspiring wizard he failed to recognise or another sorcerer like Kiano?
He glimpsed at the battered door for the second time and scratched the back of his head. There was a sense of frustration in his groan. The only way to get a quick answer was to get out of this chamber and—a noise jolted him out of his long-winded ruminations.
He turned his head towards the stranger, who stretched to get rid of sleep. The boy soon met his bewildered eyes, yet he didn’t appear alarmed or anything of the sort. On the contrary, it looked like the guy actually expected to find him fully awake.
“Seems like you’ve recovered.”
He gulped. “Who are you? And where’s Kiano?”
“Kiano…?” The strange boy repeated, more to himself than for him to answer. “Who’s that?”
“It’s—he’s a friend. Do you know where he is?”
“I thought you were the only survivor, guess not.”
Derrick frowned. “The only survivor? They’re all dead?”
The boy nodded. “That’s what they said. Everyone’s curious about you, by the way, since you made it out of there.”
“Everyone—? Listen, I just want to know where I am, okay? What’s this place?”
“… Belzcakir.”
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The royal castle in Gartâr? How? Did Mahgrad get wind of the tree’s betrayal and rescue them just in the nick of time? Then again, that would explain how he got here and how his leg recovered despite all odds – only the mages in the guild would have the power to save his life.
But what about Kiano? He was right outside the grim fortress, and the mages should’ve seen him on their way to Hezakhal. But this guy here said he was dead. That couldn’t be true.
The Queen would never allow the fahltyrs to harm one of her own; this was the entire reason the giant captured him and Kiano in the first place, so how come—he wheezed. What if the mages thought Kiano conspired with the Queen and killed him?
The stranger grabbed his shoulders. “Hey, snap out of it!”
“You,” he began and tried to find the right words. “Really don’t know what happened to my friend?”
“That Kiano guy? Nope, but I think I know someone who might.”
“What does that mean?”
The odd guy drew a deep breath and let go. “This may sound unreal to you, but I didn’t intend to save you. I was tailing this person, the one who saved you, and he told me to wait for him. When he finally showed up again on the Salkire, he was carrying you. He told me to bring you to Belzcakir.”
“What… what happened to him?”
“I wish I knew. He went back to Lordôm, saying he had to find someone. I think it was your friend, this Kiano, he was looking for.”
Derrick averted his gaze for a second. “You sure?”
“Everyone thinks you’re the only survivor here. Why would I lie?”
“And this person you’re talking about, he really hasn’t returned yet?”
The guy shook his head. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but they might never make it. Your friend is probab—”
“No, he’s not dead. He can’t be.”
The stranger scowled. “What makes you think that?”
“He’s…” He couldn’t reply. It was too dangerous to give Kiano away should Mahgrad rescue him from the darkness. The last thing he wanted was to hear that the wizards slayed Kiano because of his recklessness.
As the door flung open, they both turned their heads in the same direction. A stately figure with a ruby cape made of satin entered. His long, sleek hair reached his elbows. There was an ash-grey emblem of the Order of Mages on his attire. Derrick gulped hard. It was him, it was Archmage Malakai.
“I see you’ve got along with Artam here.”
He glanced at the guy, whose sparkling eyes were focused on the prominent figure, just as spellbound by his presence as he was. Was it the first time those two had met? It looked like that, but the great lord knew his name. Was this why Artam looked so perplexed and turned all bright red?
“There’s something I must confirm with you, young man. Do you mind if I ask you some questions? It won’t take long.”
He nodded. The archmage gestured for the armoured knight waiting for him at the doorway to escort Artam out. His heart felt heavy. He knew right away that the great lord wanted to hear how he got to Lordôm and how he, ultimately, made it out of there as well. But he didn’t have an answer to these questions.
“How did you cross the Salkire?”
“I…” Artam’s voice rang on a loop in his ears. “Someone rescued me, my lord. I… I think it was someone from Mahgrad.”
“That’s not possible. I would’ve known if someone from the guild came for you. I didn’t even know someone tampered with the contest, you see, not until you showed up.”
“Artam must’ve told you who saved me, my lord. I’m sure it was a mage or someone from the guild. It has to be.”
Malakai kept his silence for a long time as if to test his reaction and see if he was telling the truth.
“Artam said it was the Crown Prince, the one who rescued you. Can you confirm this?”
“I- I’m not sure, my lord, but I don’t think Artam is lying. The prince must know for sure, did you—”
“I can’t, he hasn’t returned. I hoped you’d enlighten me but seems like you know as little as I do.”
Malakai turned his back to him and was about to exit when Derrick leapt forward and blocked the grand master from leaving.
“M- My friend, my lord, I heard the prince went to save him!”
“If he’s not here, then he’s already dead.”
“No, that can’t be,” he burst out. “Have you searched for him at all? He might still be in Lordôm, and—”
“He’s dead, just like all the others.”
Derrick crammed up. How could he disclose to this wise mage that Kiano was still alive somewhere in the eternal darkness and that he was a sorcerer? He stepped aside and dropped his head. He was in a bind. There was nothing he could do to help Kiano break free from the murk.
His heart ached. It felt like he had betrayed Kiano, even though they were not even friends. But what they experienced in the dark while trying to cling to life somehow bonded them together in ways no words could truly capture.
It wasn’t friendship; he didn’t know what to call it. Divine forces brought them together, he was sure, and this was why the Queen didn’t get rid of him the second she noticed the giant had brought not one but two boys on the run.
What was her plan? What was the link between him and Kiano that, despite all odds, saved his skin? This wasn’t a coincidence. It could not be. Kiano wasn’t dead.
Malakai brushed past him and left. The battered door rocked slightly. Just as he thought the great lord had left for good, he heard his booming voice come through and then die out in the icy blasts.
His eyes became wide, and he turned around at the drop of a hat and watched the archmage leave the premises without explaining himself.
An announcement? But why did the mage tell him to be on time? He didn’t know what this was all about or what it had to do with him, but if he knew something about Malakai from the Sacred Scripts he read, then it was the fact that he said a thousand words in one sentence.