To Catch A Sorcerer

Longwark rolled back, facing the wall.

They stayed like that for hours.

Gray alternated between obsessively going over everything that had happened in his head, asking himself the same questions, and a dull, blank numbness. He was in one of these numb phases as he watched the sky slowly darken outside. He shivered. He heard the soldiers change shifts.

‘Grub.’ A soldier banged two metal bowls against a slot on the door.

Longwark got up and grabbed them before Gray could get himself upright, pulling himself up against the wall.

It was oats.

‘You can have mine.’ Gray refused the bowl Longwark offered.

Longwark shoved the bowl into Gray’s hands without looking at him.

Gray placed the bowl by the pallet and went back to his spot against the wall, abandoning the food.

Two soldier’s voices carried into the cell from down the corridor. They were getting closer.

‘Major says he’s off limits,’ said one soldier.

‘What the Major doesn't know won’t hurt him,’ drawled another.

That drawl. It was Codder.

Gray frowned and tried to get himself tucked further into the shadowy corner, just in case. Longwark watched, spooning himself oats from Gray’s abandoned bowl.

The soldiers were closer. Too close.

‘We’ll all get punished if you’re caught, Codder,’ hissed one.

‘See, this is why I’m his favourite. I’m not scared of risking my neck to get results.’

Gray felt rather than saw someone pressing close to the door window. Felt them scan the room.

‘Hey,’ said Codder. ‘Stray? You in here?’

Gray kept his gaze fixed on the wall, staying utterly still in the shadows.

‘Hey,' said Codder. 'Sorcerer. What have you done with little stray?’

Codder turned to the soldier out of sight when Longwark brutally ignored him. ‘Emwell said he was in here.’

The soldier murmured something back, too soft for Gray to catch.

‘Go get the Major,’ snapped Codder. ‘He thought this might happen. And give me the damn keys.’

There was a jingle of keys.

Gray’s breath hitched, and he darted a desperate glance at Longwark. Longwark glanced back at Gray, and then bent his face over the bowl of oats, casually scooping out the last of them with his fingers. He didn’t look back up, even as the Codder stepped into the cell, pinned Gray with his shadowed swamp-vampire gaze, and then strode over to where Gray sat huddled.

‘Hiding, stray?’

‘No.’

Codder smirked. ‘No? Looks like Lismere’s precious little chosen one is terrified, filthy, and hiding from big, bad Codder. Ineptly, I might add.’

Gray clenched his jaw, anger stirring, hot and sick.

‘You’re in the perfect position,’ said Codder, ‘to give me ideas.’

Gray fisted his hands but otherwise stayed unmoving.

Codder crouched in front of Gray. ‘Not so tough without the Major standing over your shoulder, are you?’

Gray got a brief impression of Codder’s shadowed gaze and mud-crusted boots before he locked his gaze away.

‘Huh?’ Codder’s voice was almost gentle.

Gray didn’t damn well care. He was so damn sick of this. Even being in Dierne, being dragged forward to be executed, would be better than this shit.

Codder pulled a folded map out of his pocket, and he sniggered as Gray flinched.

‘See this map here, stray?’ said Codder. ‘You point your finger to where the mages are hiding in the forest.’

Gray frowned. Whatever he’d been expecting from Codder marching into this cell, that hadn’t been it.

‘I don’t know where they are,’ said Gray. ‘I - I can’t help you.’

‘I’ve seen Frostvine do this exact thing for the Major. Just close your eyes and use your creepy cursed powers to point to where the mages are.’

‘Frostvine?’ said Gray.

‘Major’s mage, stray.’

The sleeping mage. She had a name.

Gray pressed his lips together.

‘You’re in a real vulnerable position here,’ said Codder. ‘I could help you, if you help me. Play your cards right.’

He flicked Gray's left boot tied together with a filthy string. ‘You need some new shoes, stray. I’m surprised Major hasn’t bought his little chosen-one pet a pair already - the state of these must be driving him mad.’

Considering the ever present state of Codder’s muddy boots, Codder had to be talking a bunch of bull.

Gray ignored him.

He moved closer.

‘I,’ said Gray, getting a sudden - stupid - idea, his gaze flickering to the ardent by the pallet, ‘I could trade you.’

Codder stilled, stroking his angled jaw. ‘New shoes for the mage’s location.’

‘No,’ said Gray.

‘New sweater, then?’ drawled Codder. ‘This one’s looking pretty ripe, stray.’

‘No. You,’ said Gray, keeping his voice steady, and choosing his words carefully, ‘you tell me how you found Rowan, and I’ll point on your map.’

Behind Codder, Longwark paused.

‘Who the hell’s Rowan?’ said Codder, clocking Longwark’s halt in rhythm. Codder eyed him, with the tiniest hint of wariness, before returning his gaze to Gray.

‘Rowan Conn,’ said Gray. ‘The boy you found on your first night in Krydon.’

‘Why,’ said Codder, ‘would you want to know about that?’

Gray set his jaw. ‘Tell me how you found him.’

Codder stretched his neck to the side, spreading his knees on the prison floor. ‘Not so fast. You point first, stray.’

‘No deal,’ whispered Gray.

Codder was so close that his cigarette breath was hitting Gray’s ear. ‘Do you know what I could do to you, little stray? You. Go. First.’

Gray stayed completely still. Locked his gaze away.

After an age, there was a scuffle against the damp prison floor, as Codder inched closer.

‘He’d been strung up, stray,’ Codder said. ‘Like he’d been visited by the hangman.’

Gray knew this was coming, but he hadn’t expected this to be so hard to hear. Blood rushed in his ears. ‘Anything - else?’ he said.

Codder watched him with his shadowed gaze. ‘Rats. Dozens of them. I thought your town had a rat problem, stray, but I never did again see so many.’ Codder spread out the map. ‘My turn. Point.’

Rats.

‘Wait,’ said Gray. ‘I need - I need books - er, The Complete Guide to Dark Creatures of the North by Hubert Huntsman, and A Short History of Folk Songs and Lullabies, by Grimm and Grimm – and – and –’

‘I’m not running around getting you a fucking library, stray. Point.’

Gray pointed at random on the map.

‘Do it properly, you little punk, or I’ll -’

‘I told you I can’t help you,’ said Gray. ‘I don’t know how.’

‘You’re playing me for a fool? You have no idea of what I’m capable of. Point on the map properly, or I’ll mess you up so badly you won’t know where you begin and I end.’

‘We both know how tight Killian is holding your leash,’ Gray said. ‘You can’t do anything to me unless he says so.’

Codder’s face hardened. His tongue swept out across his bottom lip.

‘Careful, now, little stray. You ought not to poke the dragon.’

Gray steeled himself before leaning into Codder’s space. His voice was barely above a whisper. ‘Heel, boy.’

Codder’s whole body stiffened. He inhaled and Gray glimpsed his messy teeth. His eyes widened. ‘You cocky goats-tongue …’ He scrunched the map up and thrust it into his pocket, then snatched up Gray’s collar and dragged him towards the cell door.

Gray’d expected to be hit, right there in the cell. Getting dragged out to gods-knew-where by Codder could not be good.

Gray pulled and thrashed against him, not feeling the pain in his ankle, not giving a shit how hurt he got in the process.

But Codder was too strong.

‘Mr Longwark.’ Gray’s voice broke. ‘Longwark.’

Longwark did nothing, just lay aside his empty bowl, his gaze inscrutable. Codder dragged Gray out into the corridor and locked Longwark back into the cell with one hand, while his fierce grip clamped on Gray.

'Longwark, please,' shouted Gray.

Longwark did nothing.

But, the guards in the prison stirred.

They went from stirred to full-scale riot within seconds.

Their fury shook the doors.

Their screams crashed against the ceiling.

In his hysterical panic, Gray saw their dark, furious eyes peering through the doors, their strong arms reaching through the bars. Heard them destroying the cells behind the shuddering walls.

Gray’s skin was getting too hot.

Too bright.

But, it was oddly muted.

Like steam building under a clamped lid.

Gray felt Codder hesitate as he struggled to keep hold of Gray. The keys jangled.

Codder shouted something, red blotches blooming on his cheeks, but Gray couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears and the screams from the men.

Opposite them, the timber of the cell door splintered and cracked.

There was another crack. For a wild second, Gray thought the guards had broken through the doors, but then pain flared in his face, over his mouth. Codder had hit him.

Then, pounding towards them, down the stairs, pushing past the other soldiers on duty, and along the corridor - a shadow.

A predator.

Killian.

With each pounding footstep, the riot quietened down.

The screams faded. The doors stopped shaking.

Codder froze. He dropped the keys and Gray.

Gray buckled to the floor, his chest heaving, his skin glowing from suppressed power.

Killian backhanded Codder so fast that his hand was a blur. He bodily dragged Codder halfway down the corridor and threw him hard against the ground.

There was a sickening thud, and Codder let out a muffled sob.

Gray eyed the keys, inches from his hand. Grabbed them in his sweaty palm, and tucked them up his sleeve.

Struggled to breathe.

In. Out.

Killian was in front of him, open fury on his scarred face, as he propped Gray to sit up against the wall.

‘Inhale,’ he said, his voice harsh.

'It's fine,' gasped Gray. ‘You’re safe.’

There was a murmur from inside the cell closest to Gray.

It was Longwark.

He - was he laughing?

‘Shut the fuck up, sorcerer,’ snarled Killian.

Silence fell.

Killian’s dark gaze was back on Gray. ‘Close your eyes,’ he said. ‘Picture the open sky.’

Gray obeyed and exhaled slowly.

His magic was dipping. The glow faded.

He inhaled and exhaled with Killian three more times.

‘I’m upping your dose,’ said Killian.

'You don't need to.' Gray slumped against the wall, damp with sweat. 'I had it under control.'

'Really,' said Killian.

Killian hung his wolfish gaze on Codder, who lay still on the corridor floor and then returned his attention to Gray. He paced two steps, rubbing his knuckles, and then came back.

Longwark sniggered. The sound bounced off the cold stone walls.

Killian peered through the cell door window. ‘Longwark, something entertaining?’

‘If you wanted to teach your man a lesson,’ came Longwark’s rough voice, ‘you should’ve let him take the boy.’

‘And if I want to teach you a lesson,’ said Killian, ‘I’ll shove the kid in your cell next time he has a panic attack.’

‘Flare,’ slurred Longwark.

‘Excuse me?’

‘They’re called flares.’

Killian was stiff as a board. ‘Are you teaching me the correct sorcerer terminology, Longwark?’

‘I could teach you a lot more,’ Longwark said, ‘if you took me to the king. I’m playing very nice, Major.’

‘You’re playing nice,’ said Killian, his voice low and controlled, ‘because you’re shaking in your boots like a child. You think playing nice is going to save your thick neck.’

Longwark huffed. He muttered something in northern so softly that Gray didn’t catch it.

Killian edged closer to the window. ‘Hm?’

‘Give me chalk,’ said Longwark, ‘and I’ll take us all to Baldwin. The longer I’m here, the more dangerous it is. You bleeding dimwit.’

‘What did you just call me?’ said Killian. He turned to the soldiers huddled together at the end of the corridor. ‘Open on Longwark.’

‘I apologise,’ rushed out Longwark. ‘Just offering to help. No need to come in here, sir.’

Killian held up a hand, and the approaching soldier halted, midstep, over Codder.

‘Sorcerer,’ said Killian dangerously, ‘if I accept any offer of help from you, things have gone very backwards.’

Longwark stayed quiet, which was probably for the best because Killian looked seconds away from violence.

Killian surveyed Gray, running a finger along his jaw. ‘Oh, for Clochaint’s sake. Kid, come with me.’