To Catch A Sorcerer

Not to brag, but Gray was a fast runner.

He twisted free. He was through the open doorway and into the corridor before the Major swore and jerked him backward.

Gray’s skull hit the ground with a dull thud, the ache of the mugger’s attack throbbing hard. Gods. The world closed around the edges as his vision tunnelled as though he was peering down an endless pit.

The Major loomed over Gray. His cold gaze was piercing.

Gray blinked his watering eyes at the Major, and then at Sorena, and then Branbright. Branbright had stood up in the second Gray had been thrown to the floor. He hovered in the shadowy corner, his long grey beard hanging half unwound from his neck.

Gray unstuck his throat. ‘They don’t know – they don’t know anything –‘

The Major balled his fist. Gray flinched, tensing.

Waited.

Gray opened his eyes. The Major’s scarred knuckles millimetres from his eyelashes.

He wanted to shy away.

But, he made himself hold still. Made himself stare straight into the dark eyes of the Major.

‘Kid,’ The Major said, voice calm but cold as ice. ‘Open your mouth again and I’ll break something. Understood?’

Stay quiet. Just keep your mouth shut. But Gray’s voice slipped out before he could stop it. ‘They haven’t done anything wrong. You don’t have to-‘

The punch came fast. He didn’t think his cheekbone was broken but - gods - it hurt like hell. His words died in his throat as he tried to pull away, but the Major grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him back into place.

‘Kid – I’ll tell you again. You talk only when I tell you to talk. Got it?’

His hand was like a claw. But then, tumbling out of Gray’s mouth, ‘They’re no threat –‘

The Major’s grip tightened.

Gray’s eyes streamed.

‘Got it?’

It wasn’t Gray’s noblest moment when he said, ‘yes’ against the squeeze of the Major’s hand.

The Major dragged him upright, jerking him into a sitting position before hauling him to his feet. Gray swayed, unsteady, his legs barely holding him. The Major didn’t wait - just shoved him towards the wall, steering him to the side of the corridor with a sharp jab.

‘Get the girl into her own cell. Now.’

There was a scuffle as Sorena was dragged out past Gray.

Gray could hear Branbright’s laboured breathing in the cell. He was as good as dead because he’d helped Gray.

Like Barin and Harriette.

Shit.

Where were the Krydon guards?

Where was Krydon’s Captain of the guards?

She wouldn’t just stand by and let them be mown down.

‘Branbright,’ said the Major, ‘Any time you want to stop the interrogation of your protege, you let my men know.’

‘Not my protege, you dog.’

‘You’ll be able to hear his screams down here, sorcerer.’

He locked Branbright in. Gray swayed.

Branbright pressed his face against the window in the cell door.

‘Come on, kid,’ said the Major.

The Major gripped Gray’s arm and dragged him down the corridor.

The corridor was dark, with three doors on either side. They only had six cells in Krydon. The stones of the prison floor were hard and curving under the thin soles of Gray’s boots. Soldiers stood at the far end, watching their progress, their necks craned.

‘Intercept Vaddenham and tell him I don’t need him,’ the Major called to them, loud enough to echo against the towering stone walls.

‘You don’t need to,’ said an unfamiliar voice.

The man who said this looked out of place in the grimy prison, with his gold thread stitching on his dark uniform. He had an aristocratic swell of his stomach and his hair was meticulously combed over his balding head.

‘I told Vaddenham to stay with the Krydon Mayor,’ said the man. ‘Is there an issue?’

‘Wolfric Branbright,’ said the Major, ‘is in the last cell, Major General Darcy.’

‘Branbright?’ Something cold and delighted swept over Darcy’s features. ‘You mean to tell me I have Branbright in my custody?’

The Major cleared his throat. ‘Codder captured him.’

‘You’ve told General?’ said Darcy.

The Major was silent for a beat too long. ‘Not yet, sir. I’ll -‘

Darcy cut him off with a wave of his meaty hand. ‘No need. I’ll tell him.’

‘Sir, I’ll tell him-’

‘General is in a very important meeting,’ said Darcy. ‘It’s above your clearance. I will tell him.’

The Major was all stiff lines, loud silence, and heavy air. ‘You’ll tell him Codder captured him, will you, sir?’

‘Oh, Killian,’ said Darcy, ‘you know I will.’ His attention slid over the Major and settled onto Gray. ‘What’s with the boy?’

The Major’s fingers dug into Gray’s arm. ‘He’s - I’m taking him to the office, sir.’

Darcy lumbered close. His rich uniform strained over his stomach, chest, shoulders, and thighs. Either he was very well-fed, or he was a wall of muscle.

‘Why?’ Darcy said.

How Darcy got so much disdain into one syllable, Gray would never know.

‘It’s the best room for interrogation in this gutter town, sir,’ said the Major, his voice getting soft. ‘He was found with Branbright, so-’

Darcy raised his eyebrows and glanced at the soldiers listening at the end of the hall. ‘You should be interrogating Branbright, surely?’

‘I’m not going to risk interrogating Branbright while my mage is still out.’ Then, tacked on, ‘sir. I have a strategy, sir.’

Darcy ran his tongue over his teeth, his gaze darting over the Major’s shoulder, and settling down the corridor. ‘As you wish. If this all goes south, I’ll make sure they’ll know it was your failing.’

‘Of course, sir.’

The Major resumed his clawed grip, and they were moving again.

They passed the soldiers, and one hissed something Gray didn’t catch. The Major shoved Gray around the corner and started dragging him up a set of dirty stone steps.

Gray needed the Major to slip up. He needed to run and warn Barin before the soldiers found him.

‘Is there – is there any particular reason you’re after Longwark?’ Gray asked.

The instant the words left Gray’s mouth, he was knocked into the wall. And gods, there went Gray’s head again. He felt it start to freshly bleed, the mugger’s wound.

‘Why are you talking?’ the Major said.

‘Maybe - maybe I can help,’ said Gray, ‘if you tell me why-’

‘Longwark is a traitor, he’s in league with a sorcerer or a sorcerer himself, and you don’t speak unless I say.’

Sorcerer?

Gray thought of Longwark and the last thing he said and did to Alistair. About what he must’ve done as a mage soldier in the fight against Krupin.

But Gray had known Longwark for ages, had him as a teacher every year at school since he was six, and if there was one thing Longwark was, a traitor against the kingdom wasn’t it. He just couldn’t.

As for being a sorcerer - there was no way.

‘Are you sure?’ Gray said.

The Major gripped Gray’s chin.

Gray clasped his hands around the Major’s muscled wrists, his fingertips on the man’s thrumming pulse.

From the bottom of the steps, a soldier called, ‘You all right, Major?’

The Major ignored him.

‘Your Lismerian,’ the Major said softly, ‘it’s very good, kid.’

Don’t act afraid. Don’t act afraid. Gray’s throat was so dry. He wanted to say, coolly, calmly, that they taught everyone Lismerian in school, that everyone could speak it a bit.

But the words drowned in his mouth.

The Major raised his eyebrows.

‘You haven’t gone through your first ryece yet, have you?’ said the Major. ‘Good. For me, not for you.’

He couldn’t swallow against the Major’s hold. Gray struggled. The Major wasn’t going to slip up.

‘I’ll tell you one more time, kid. Don’t talk. Or I will break your face.’

Gray sensed, rather than saw, a soldier moving at the foot of the steps. ‘You all right, Major?’

The Major broke his stiff glare. ‘I’d like an escort. In case he slips free again. You and Brown. Follow me to the office. No, rookie, you stay there.’

They were moving up the steps again.

‘Next time,’ said the Major softly to his men, ‘when I ask for Vaddenham, you ensure I get Vaddenham. Not that slimy weed of a social climber. Not General. Understood?’

‘Yes, Major,’ muttered the soldiers.

The Hall was bustling with quiet activity and urgent whispers. Silence immediately fell when the Major strode past, dragging Gray alongside, with the two soldiers bringing up the rear.

The Hall was still operating, Gray realised dimly. Of course it was. The world hadn’t come to a stop, but it still surprised him. Council members and workers parted way, some staring, but most avoiding eye contact.

Up more stairs, these ones covered in plush carpet, and with circular windows overlooking the garden behind the Hall. Two workers pressed against the wall to make way. One was blonde and beautiful. Rosie. Gray locked eyes with her desperately.

Tell Barin. Warn him. He and Harriette must run.

Gray’s mind was a panicked blur. Everything was in fragments.

Dark hall. Tables. Glittering pottery. An open door with a meeting inside, that paused at the soldier’s thundering steps, and then hastily continued when they saw who it was passing.

Turn a corner. Light hall, paintings. Stairs, only three steps up, to a dark landing.

They reached a door with a worn stag head door knocker, and they barged in.

‘Return to your stations. Let me know when Branbright’s feeling chatty,’ the Major muttered to the two soldiers.

He slammed the door closed, shutting him and Gray in the office, but didn’t release his grip.

Gray had been in here before.

Krydon’s Captain of the guard's office.

Gray barely registered the airy room with a dark tapestry of a battle scene on one wall and wanted posters stuck up on another. A desk was brightly lit by the window that looked out into the town square.

Gray stared at the view out the window as though through a haze. The Krydon guards were in a huddled clump. And a mess that Gray recognized as wearing the Krydon’s captain’s uniform was in the middle.

She’d been executed.

Bile rose in his throat. Burned.

Not good, not good.