Caitriona crashed into the dense woods below, her impact carving a swathe through the forest that surrounded the Academy.
Sitting up, she groaned, heaving a pained breath as she pushed away the debris of dirt and fallen trees that covered her. Her eyes dropped to her gaping chest wound. If it weren't for her akathar automatically activating a pain-dimming spell, she would have been in sheer agony.
Who had attacked her? She scanned her surroundings, seeking the blue glimmer of kathar. She spotted a flaming globe flying straight at her and braced herself.
Drawing on the physical strength she had stored up over the centuries, she caught the fists that collided with her palms. The force from the impact nearly bowled over the trees surrounding them.
Caitriona gritted her teeth as she struggled to hold out against her attacker. It was a man—someone she didn't recognize. A Magus. That was all she could discern from the brief glance before his features began to warp grotesquely, his eyes rolling to his cheeks, his mouth climbing to his forehead. It was a clever spell, a terrible method to hide one's identity without expending too much athar.
Her cloak was better, though.
"Who are you?" she forced out, her feet sinking deeper into the ground as her attacker gained ground.
"You dare question my identity?" spat the outraged mage from disfigured lips. "After intruding on our sacred ground, you child of havoc!"
A Grandmaster. His arrogance was a dead giveaway. Also, he wouldn't have been able to match her strength otherwise.
Her akathar perked up, eager to set him on fire and watch him burn in its unquenchable flame.
Quiet down, she told it. I could use him to get into the castle.
Her athar was unimpressed by this line of thinking.
She spat a shadowy arrow at the mage. He lurched sideways to avoid it. Seizing the opportunity, she slammed her feet into his chest, sending him soaring into the air—where he stopped, hovering.
Awed, she watched as he steadied himself midair.
He could fly. Shit, shit, shit. Maybe they weren't so evenly matched after all.
To her left, she heard a rumbling. The ground shook as whole trees tore from their roots and launched into the air. He was going to bring them back down. On her. She had to move.
Hand over her already-healed stomach, her mind raced over possible spells to save herself. A leap? Leaving a clone behind to trick him while she made her escape? Teleporting to avoid the trees entirely?
Suddenly, the ground beneath her rumbled again. Her healed-over abdomen split open as a tree trunk nearly as wide as her body stabbed through her back, emerging from her stomach.
She barely had time to react before needle-sharp vines emerged from the trunk, punching holes through her body, through bone, muscle, and skin. They curled around and grew through her until half of her was tree.
Clever, she grudgingly admitted, struggling against the network of vines now covered in her blood. Very clever.
She watched the Magus descend, his feet lightly landing upon the tree trunk that had impaled her. But not as clever as me.
Now! she commanded her athar, opening her mouth to unleash a fire that couldn't be quenched. But fear struck her as the Magus slammed his palm against her mouth, forcing the flames back in.
Her akathar trembled within her, alarmed. It wasn't used to being controlled by someone other than herself.
"Are you done with this useless display?" asked the Grandmaster, sounding almost bored.
Beneath his hand, Caitriona's body trembled. If her heart were intact, she was certain it would be racing. It had been a while since she faced someone who could actually kill her. She hadn't thought to bring her golems on what ought to have been a simple surveillance mission.
Now, feeling her magic writhe under the chains of his will, she regretted it.
"I know why you're here," he said.
She spat in defiance. "Bullshit."
"You lost one of yours among ours, didn't you?" he posed gently, though it didn't sound as if he was asking. "And now, you've come to collect them."
Caitriona stopped struggling. Did the Grandmaster somehow know he had a budding warlock in his little school? And he hadn't destroyed them yet? Moreover, did he know who it was?
"You don't know anything more than their location," said the Grandmaster. "Interesting. What does your master have to say about that?"
"I serve no master!" she snarled. What self-respecting warlock bowed to any other whim but theirs? Especially not to the will of that monster, the Northern King.
"You do now," he said.
At this, she began thrashing in her restraints, not caring if the vines cracked her bones and tore her flesh as long as she got free. She would serve no one, especially not a mage.
"I'll spare you from the wrath of your employer," he said. She froze at his offer, frowning as he continued. "And I won't turn you in to the Conclave of Grandmasters once our business is concluded."
"How do I know you won't just kill me then?" she demanded. "Aren't you a Grandmaster yourself?"
Slowly, his eerily moving face stilled, features sliding back into their proper place. Only then did she recognize the man in front of her. Fear turned her body cold and heavy, sinking into the marrow of every bone.
"Y-y-you."
"Yes, me," said the mage. "You understand that there is no other way to survive this encounter than to do exactly what I say, don't you?"
Caitriona hesitated, then quickly nodded. At that moment, she feared her employer much less than she feared the mage in front of her.
"Good." Sitting carefully on a branch, the man folded his hands together. "Now, let's talk about how I can help you with your mission."
…
Baylin kept her word about sending Marvel a potion to help with the pain in his arrays whenever he used his athar.
He found it on his bed when he returned to his room after a hard day of doing all of Caspian's chores as payment for his multitude of sins. Among them, Marvel's audacity to be born.
A card lay beside the flask, printed with Baylin's ugly scrawled instructions. Imbibe once a day every three days. When you run out, take a sample to your little Healer. I'm sure she'll be able to replicate it despite her lack of skill.
Marvel didn't wait another second to drop the note and take a swig of the indigo-coloured liquid. He paused. He didn't feel any different. Just to be certain he'd taken enough, he swallowed three more gulps. Still nothing.