To Catch A Sorcerer

Gray's lungs weren't working. His head, his body, his neck pounded.

But, he was going to get out of this just fine.

The Modig amulet was warm against the hollow below his throat. Gray had a fleeting thought: Take off the Modig amulet. Take it off.

The thought was chased instantly out of his mind, by a soaring boldness. Curiosity overtook it, because what the hell Lunn was doing here?

The fey snarling in front of him, who had Gray slammed against the wall, was a shell of who he used to be. Dark hair, hacked off, flew over his black and hollowed eyes as the aftershock of the blast rattled the room behind them. Looking, resentfully, like he wanted to be anywhere else. The Lunn that had been so powerful, fastidious, knowledgeable, who'd patched Gray back together with immeasurable magic and skill, was near unrecognisable. And he was working with Conor.

Gray's power was pooling, his internal shields were gone, melted, evaporated, and calling up his magic was easy.

Laughably easy.

Fearless.

Sure, the magic was utterly feral, huge, uncontrollable, it was filling Gray's body to an overload, and Gray made as well have been a bug trying to direct the path of a tornado, but, honestly, this was instinctive.

So. Damn. Easy.

Gray had no idea what Lunn had done to create the blast - maybe a curse bomb, maybe some kind of alchemy, maybe Connor (who Gray could feel, fighting outside the office somewhere, his magic reaching like clawing fingers through every nook and cranny of the palace, sparring against hundreds of souls, using air as a weapon to hammer, slam, slice, crush and throttle) had done the office blast from a distance - but whatever the had done the blast, it was an annoyance.

Because, Gray needed more air.

The fire was taking too much of it. The smoke and the ash were making it difficult to breathe, to see. The mages attempting to fahren were making the air full.

But, there was a simple solution to needing more air.

Gray frowned, peering past Lunn to the windows in the office, through the drifting ash and licking flames. They rattled.

The windows rattled hard enough to crack the glass.

They shattered. As though punched by a furious, invisible giant.

Fast. But not as effortlessly as Gray knew it should be, for the sheer amount of power coursing through him. Gray's gaze drifted downward, as he frowned - there was a strong shield stopping his huge power rushing fully outward. The dragon-scale vest.

Lunn's grip tightened around Gray's throat. His expression flickered. For a moment, Gray detected wariness. Lunn ducked, as the flames grew, fanned by fresh air. His boots crunched shattered glass into the carpet. The alchemic test had shattered, too, nearby. It was hissing, spilled, spoiled, gone, into the floor.

'Charming trick,' said Lunn. 'You're an inch from imploding into a million bloody pieces and burning everyone here to the ground.'

Where have you been? whipped through Gray. What happened to you?

And, more concerningly,

What happened to his stripped power? Could someone take it, and use it? Sell it?

'If,' said Gray, because he didn't need to turn this nasty, he didn't need to harm Lunn, anyone, to get out of this, but he didn't like being held by his throat like this, 'you let me down, maybe we-'

His words choked off as Lunn's grip tightened around Gray's throat.

He slammed Gray into the wall.

The runes painted on Gray were working. Hard. Gray could feel them almost humming. They were stopping Lunn from punching Gray through the wall. Lunn was working, working, working against them, to keep his grip on Gray.

'Every time you speak,' said Lunn, 'I further understand why some creatures eat their young.'

For a split second, Gray considered flinging Lunn across the room. And he could do it. He could push past the shield of the vest if he tried hard enough. He'd just seen that he could. He could summon a gust of air, and use it to launch the fey away.

But, the fey might drag Gray with him.

Lunn's eyebrows were raised. As though Gray had spoken that split second consideration aloud.

'Do it,' said Lunn softly. 'Do something inanely stupid, kill us both, and I'll have fulfilled my duty. My command is to clear you out of here, to make way for the other. There's been no mention of keeping you alive. I wholeheartedly support your idiodic impulse to self-destruct.'

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Gray's heart beat steadily. 'Clear me out of here?'

Lunn's gaze narrowed.

But, Lunn was coerced, bound, magically stripped, working for someone awful and terrifying. Gray wanted to know what he was doing here, what he was doing with Conor.

Perhaps he was looking at Lunn with pity, with something the fey didn't like, because his snarl deepened, bearing his teeth. 'My business-'

Whatever Lunn's business was cut off as Baldwin held his wand to Lunn's temple. His bright, cold eyes on the side of Lunn's head, utterly fixated. His silvery hair was almost luminous against the dancing, red light of the flames.

'You seem to have gone through great misfortune, fey,' said Baldwin, coldly. 'I have no quarrell with you.'

'Baldwin,' Gray hissed through Lunn's clasp, because gods, Baldwin would kill Lunn, or Lunn would kill Baldwin, and Gray wanted Lunn to talk. 'Baldwin, I got this. Back off.'

Neither Baldwin or Lunn paid Gray any heed. They were locked in on each other.

Baldwin was gathering his energy. His cloying, furious, violent magic. It was going to be big. Deadly.

Gray wrapped his hands around Lunn's wrist. Kept his power from trying to leap boldly out. Pushed down the instinct to ram Baldwin with a slice of wind. He could turn a gust of wind easily into a gale. He could turn it into a month of windstorms. Gray could feel the power coarsing through him, utterly unchecked, giddying. It was storming over his shattered and disolved internal shields. Emboldened. Proud. It was hungry for the chance to turn a simple command huge.

But, the vest would keep it mostly contained. If it got too big, it could turn it inward.

At the same time Gray hissed, 'Baldwin, step back,' Lunn said to Baldwin, 'Drop your cyngyrd.'

Lunn's words were utterly dark. Sinister. And had Baldwin's undivided attention. His magic may have been stripped, but he still had the formidable physical power of a fey. The senses of a fey. He was still an apex predator.

Baldwin's face was darker than Gray'd ever seen it. The wand remained determinedly at Lunn's temple.

'By the gods, drop it,' snarled Lunn, 'or I will snap his neck faster than you can think the words.'

There was the smallest pause in Baldwin. A narrowing of his gaze. An adjusting of his grip on his wand.

In one smooth movement, Baldwin lowered his wand.

'Drop,' said Lunn.

Baldwin dropped it. It fell silently onto the carpet.

'You harmed my children?' said Baldwin.

Lunn's grip didn't ease.

Gray struggled to breathe, and that was inconvenient and annoying, and he was starting to feel hot anger licking his insides at being deprived air. He was aware, dimly, of the remaining mages and soldiers extinguishing the flames and recovering from the blast, somewhere behind Lunn. Soldiers were edging closer, behind Baldwin. Including Codder, his shadowed gaze hungry.

He'd turn this violent. More violent. He wouldn't let Lunn explain.

Gray focused. He could push past the vest, just a little. He'd done it, with the windows. He could do it again. Carefully.

The air was poised. Listening to him.

Gray focused harder.

Cold air rushed. Too fast. Too powerful. Like the gust from a mountain griffin's massive wings. Codder and the encroaching soldiers tumbled, buffeted back in a mess of swords, uniforms, and shouts. The walls shook.

Lunn and Baldwin both paused. Lunn glanced at Gray.

So did Baldwin, his jaw tight, his cold eyes furious. His gaze dropped to the Modig amulet.

The hard grip of Lunn's hand eased. There was a watchfulness in his dark eyes, as the men righted themselves behind him.

Gray's thoughts whipped down to the wand stashed in his pocket. He wondered, fleetingly, if a wand would be a way to direct magic around the vest.

'Is my man still evacuating my children?' repeated Baldwin.

Lunn's deadly gaze slid back to Baldwin. 'Little king, why would I spend energy harming your worthless offspring? That is not why I am here.'

'Gray,' said Baldwin, coldly, 'I need you to bring your magic down, please.'

Dimly, Gray was aware his skin was soaked with sweat. It was threatening brightness.

He blinked, surprised.

Because he was fine. Strong.

Except, he couldn't breathe.

Gray frowned, vaguely aware something was off with his thinking. The thought was there, and then gone. Dissolved.

Baldwin seemed to sense this issue, because he was edging closer.

'Fey,' said Baldwin. 'You do not want your hands covered in mess, do you? I've done as you asked. Ease your grip, take the amulet off him, and then speak. Tell me what you require.'

'My lord has given me specific instructions in exchange for my freedom,' said Lunn. 'I need to leave here with him - stop moving, king.'

'Your lord?' Baldwin had edged closer still. His hand was on the hilt of his sword. 'Don't you mean your lady?'

'You will instruct your men to let me walk out of here with him,' said Lunn. 'I only have minutes to do this.'

'Viroel Lore of the Silver Axes, yes?' said Baldwin. 'She was from one of the north's old families. I know this, ah, woman. I will deem to negotiate with her if you release the boy and take off his amulet.'

'One of the north's old families?' said Lunn. 'Her mother was her region's queen. Before the Augustes. Her lineage goes back to the Ancients. You will address her as her lineage demands.'

'I will speak with her Royal Highness,' said Baldwin, coolly.

'Har Prottar Drittnen,' snarled Lunn.

Gray knew this title. It was a northern phrase for High Warrior Lady.

'I cannot allow you to take the boy,' said Baldwin, his upper lip curled. 'Let me speak with your lady.'

'Lord. I am not her servant anymore,' said Lunn. 'I was dismissed. As you can see.'

'Lord,' said Baldwin. 'My apologies. Not Viroel Lore. Wilde, is it?'

Lunn's teeth were bared.

'It must be,' said Baldwin, 'if you're working with Conor.'

'You put two and two together so well,' said Lunn, 'for a human.'

'Take the amulet off the boy,' said Baldwin. 'He's having a bad reaction to it. I can see you don't want him truly harmed. You're being quite gentle for your kind.'

'I am not,' said Lunn, as though shielding offence. 'It's the runes.'

The brightness of Gray's skin was hurting Lunn's dark eyes. Gray could see the subtle narrowing of Lunn's gaze.

Gray could see it before it happened. He could feel the bunching of Baldwin's power. Whipfast. Ruthless. Could see the tension in Baldwin's muscles, his shoulders, his jaw, his neck. He was edging into Lunn's blindspot. Could see Lunn was stripped back as far as any being could be; magic gone, surrounded, the flames too bright for him - why the damn would Lunn or Conor use a blast like this, surely they'd know well enough to not subject him to such light -

'Wait,' Gray rasped, summoning his power, letting it come up, to blow Baldwin back before he could do anything stupid, but he had to do it carefully, so carefully, 'Baldwin, just wait-'

Unsaid words strangled off in a horrified gasp as Baldwin slashed at Lunn's throat.