Prince of Time

Chapter Forty-Seven - Death Threats and Promises

Maple rolled and came up standing, her sword skewering a man. She turned without hesitating and slammed the hilt into a man’s head, splitting the skull apart. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes deadly focused.

  She leapt, felt a sword point bite into her side, and fell far further than there was ground to fall, tumbling and rolling, head over heels, crashing against cold stone and lying still in the unexpected silence.

Nicanor gripped with his knees as Argon spun straight down, the world a perfect circle below, round and round and round. The joy of flight had left when fire couldn’t kill. He was frightened now, on edge.

  As Argon pulled up, one broad stroke of his wings regaining the height, Nicanor found himself slipping.

Companion! Argon cried.

Nicanor gave a silent scream as he dropped from Argon’s back, somehow unable to stay on, and fell. He smacked against stone long before he should have hit the ground, the air rushing out of his lungs. He lay, gasping like a fish, staring at a ceiling where none should be.

Ane slotted the last arrow into her quiver and looked straight at Zeno.

“So you can do magic now?”

Zeno nodded. “But nothing like the magic that I was taught to do.”

“So what is it like?” she asked, picking up her bow.

“It’s like I’m made of the universe,” Zeno said, carefully. “I can think of no other way to describe it. It’s not patterned magic, already worked out by someone else. It just happens. It’s raw magic.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Very.”

“But is it strong?”

Zeno smiled. “That too. Even if it kills me, it’s strong.”

Ane opened her mouth to say something in reply but her eyes widened as she took a step back and her feet found nothing. Arms pinwheeling, she tumbled backwards. Zeno reached out to grab her and found his feet slipping until they were both falling down.

Tobiah took the transfer calmly. He landed on his feet, calm and collected. Anybody looking at him would suppose he was confident of his success, assured in his victory. In reality, his heart thundered and his stomach churned and a small voice screamed in the back of his mind.

“Tobiah,” Finem appeared, walking down to stand on the ground. “This is a surprise.”

Tobiah looked around. “Why are we here?”

They were in an underground cavern, an enclosed dome of space within the mountains. There were no entrances to be found. It was a prison.

“I thought it would be more interesting,” Finem said, lightly. “Besides, I wanted to fight away from the army.”

“You don’t want your soldiers to see your defeat?”

Finem laughed. “Your attempts are pitiful. You can’t hide from me, Tobiah. I know everything about you. You’re trembling now. You’re terrified. You’ve already lost.”

“What’s going on?” Nicanor sat up in a far corner, rubbing his head. “Where are we?”

His eyes took in Tobiah and Finem and he stared, mouth open, unable to speak.

“Why are they here?” Tobiah asked, roughly. “What are they doing here?”

“In case you need motivation,” Finem smiled. “Don’t worry. I shan’t harm them until you’re already far too weak to attempt to defend them. I shall take great pleasure in their deaths after that.”