Loopbreaker

“The Concord… you know of it?” Priscilla asked.

“Everyone knows of it,” Francis sighed, waving his hand. “Please do not speak like I am some child arriving at the Spires for the first time and learning the history of our kingdom.”

Priscilla nodded and frowned. “Forgive me. The Concord was a mistake and I wish it had never been done, but I understand the reason it was created. Do you truly understand my bond?”

Francis didn’t reply, taking the bottle and filling her cup, as well as the one she had offered him. He picked his up, swapping spots with hers, and sat back down, motioning to it.

Priscilla blinked and slowly took it, pupils illuminating for a second as she waved her fingers over the one he had given her.

“I–”

“Speak of your bond,” Francis growled. “Speak the truth and please do not waste the gods or my time any longer.” He set the cup down that he had taken from her and then returned to his seat, motioning for her to continue.

“The rogue mages… they wanted power and so they took it,” Priscilla said. “Many of our best and brightest died, yet Grandmaster Guiletta Linzam did nothing. She could have struck them down with ease and she didn’t. Abiding by some foolish pact the other grandmasters made so long ago. Even now if one rises to that rank, those who are still alive, hiding their presence from most seek them out and warn them of the consequences of their engaging in daily affairs.”

“Your bond. I need not a history lesson.” Francis groaned.

“Yes… so I was the one who agreed to serve the King and all who come after. In exchange, I was given power but for a price… a heavy price.”

Her eyes glanced down at the cup in her hands and she frowned.

“I serve two masters and one binds me more than the oath I swore to King William. I understand the need for balance and I also understand the power we, I… all mages have compared to those like the General or other warriors. Can you see the threads that bind me? Even now I feel them tightening as I speak of them, warning me not to–”

She gagged and winced, grabbing her throat and taking ragged breaths.

Holy crap! How bad can this be?

Francis felt his mind torn. He wasn’t sure if she was playing at something or if what he saw and believed was real was the truth.

If she is an ally but bound by something and cannot break it, is there a way I could help break it?

He said nothing, keeping a bored look on his face. Francis watched as she recovered and took a drink.

“I… can’t say more. Just know that if the army falls, King Baxter will return safely to Caereenal.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of how you will get him there,” Francis said. “Many of the others though… won’t be as lucky. This plan to wait out the invading army and find a way to survive is ludicrous. You’ve heard the reports of the other kingdoms.”

Francis leaned forward, shaking his head. “You have no idea how dangerous what lies in the other kingdoms truly is. When one kingdom topples, they all will and the army that will march upon Caereenal will be far worse than anyone can imagine.”

“Yet I cannot change–” Priscilla stopped talking, holding her throat again.

Francis sighed as she recovered. His mind was racing, trying to connect all the pieces he had learned from his Spire visits to the moment now with Priscilla.

Stenson should have some ideas. Still… if I press too hard, then I could reveal my weakness. All that I need is to die again, and we can do this whole dance over. The knowledge I’ve just gained will be a powerful motivator if it’s true.

“Sage Francis,” Priscilla’s voice called out.

He nodded, shaking his head and waving a hand. “Forgive me, something the gods showed me… I… it is hard to watch.”

Priscilla’s head turned slightly and he could see how she was studying him.

“Everyone fears death… well most,” Francis said. “Everyone except me. I don’t. I’ve seen my death and it is… gruesome. In fact, I’ve seen it so many times and it’s changed in so many ways that I want to laugh. Even now, threads are changing and the death I know will be different.”

“And why is that?” Priscilla asked, her left eyebrow raising slightly.

“Because I’m trying to decide if I want to travel to the Spires and speak with Avelis,” Francis replied. “Unfortunately, many in the capital do not want the truth of the situation here shared or spoken of to the students or others. Even worse is how many will be rather upset with me if they found out I helped prevent such a significant loss of lives yesterday. Avelis is quite fond of that spell that traps one in a bubble that makes it impossible to breath in. A horrible way for one to die.”

Francis chuckled as his words hit home again, a slight wince from the now broken mage.

“Oh, yes, as I mentioned, I have seen much,” he continued. “For now, I shall let you tend to your thoughts,” Francis said as he stood. “I’m always willing to listen and talk if you stop with the games, lies, and half-truths. Just know there are others in this camp who play a similar game and while you think all might be bound to the same rules, some are not. Oath or not, your position… is at risk.”

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He bowed slightly, smiling as she reached out her hand for a second. Francis turned, leaving her sitting there in that state.

***

“I would torture her if I thought we could gain more, but Baxter would not allow it,” Stenson growled. “Still… to hear what she said, I believe she is telling the truth.”

“Because only the Kings and mages have ever seen the actual document that was signed and agreed upon?” Francis asked.

The older man nodded, his frown growing with each bob of his head. “Mages are tricky things. Promises are… dangerous and oaths are far worse. You know that.”

Francis nodded, having seen how his father had used them on others before he and Michael had run away. That was why the contract they signed upon capture was so difficult. They swore to it, and all who ran away were eventually found.

“So now what?” Francis asked. “Do I fight tomorrow? Hope to live? Head to the Spires and see what I can find out before I die a most likely horrible and painful death. Try to kill Avelis?”

A single chuckle came from the general.

“No… part of me would love for that to happen but I doubt even you could pull that feat off yet. I would struggle to do so against her unless I had the drop on her and even then… Avelis has many things in place.”

“So it's the perfect place to grow my abilities,” Francis said. “Even better, I could find out more about what she plans to do.”

“You’re a fool and a genius all at the same time,” Stenson said. “That logic is dead on but the problem is it requires you to die, no pun intended.”

“It’s okay, you’ve told it before and it lost its humor a hundred deaths ago.”

“Let’s see what happens in the next two days,” Stenson said. “I believe we can push Baxter to attack. You’ve never seen what happens next, right?”

“Nope,” Francis replied.

“Then let’s go from there. Next time you can go run headfirst into Avelis and see how many deaths you suffer before giving up.”

Rising, Francis nodded and moved toward the entrance of the general’s tent.

“I’m good at doing that,” Francis joked. “If dying were a skill, I’d be a sage at it.”

***

“I am unsure what to do,” Baxter said as he and Francis sat in a small, curtained area. “Talk like normal men… I’ve longed for that.”

“I know,” Francis replied with a wink. “I’m just someone who doesn’t care about politics or position. All I want is this war to be won, my brother to be saved and for you to return to the capital with as many soldiers behind you as possible. All that would make our kingdom safer.”

“That day is far from happening… even if we win,” the king replied. “We cannot sit by and do nothing while the other kingdoms languish under the assault of these creatures also.”

“Perhaps you can return home, and I can go and assist with that. After all, who knows what the gods have in store for me?”

“What kind of boy… man are you, Francis Lancaster?” Baxter asked. “I know your family and your father and the reputation of your household is…”

“Ugly? Dark? Dangerous? Deceitful?” Francis fired off answers. “Don’t hold back, I can find lots more D words to describe my father, none of which are appropriate in the company of women.”

“And yet we’re not in the company of women,” Baxter replied.

“No, we are not. But my father supplies the ore you need as well as what the Spire has been requesting. I cannot begin to fathom how much gold he has tucked away, not that it will do him any good if this army falls.”

“Gold… jewels. Titles, land,” the king said. “All these things people kill for, yet they provide nothing but more heartache. One must spend considerable time and resources to protect the very thing they worked so hard to acquire. Was the life you lived before you joined this army easier?”

“Joined or was forced through coercive magic to enlist?” Francis asked.

A slight grimace was his reply as Baxter shifted on his chair. “Yes… a necessary evil. Without it we wouldn’t be here today.”

“So enslaving a man to die… that is not a very honorable thing.”

Baxter grunted and scowled. “You do not understand what it means to be a king!”

The oversized fist came down on the small table, which held cups and a bottle of wine, cracking it and sending the objects tumbling to their new resting place on the rug.

“I don’t,” Francis replied. “Yet even though you know I could easily run away and defend myself for some time, I stay here and fight for the right reason. Not every man would say no, and those who chose to say yes on their own would be better fighters.

“But I am not here to talk about politics or philosophies,” Francis continued. “I’m simply here to let you relieve some of the weight you carry. Most of what you would say I probably already know, but sometimes saying it out loud and getting things out still helps to ease the pain.”

Baxter scoffed and shook his head. “What could you know that would make me feel better to talk about?”

“You could talk of the awe you felt the first time you met a high priest or priestess and experienced the presence of a god. Or you could mention the lack of remorse the day you struck your brother down, having known for so long it was inevitable.”

The king’s eyes widened and his jaw loosened, so Francis continued.

“Talk about your wife and how you love her or her ability to cast a spell which detects when one is lying. Speak of–”

“Enough… You have proved your point,” Baxter called out. A sigh that could have blown away clouds came from the large man. “Some of those were great things… My wife… she is what helps keep me grounded and going forward every day. Like a shield in battle or a blanket on a cold night. She protects me and keeps me warm.”

Francis watched as Baxter gazed up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair, putting his interlocked fingers on his chest.

“I remember the day I met her,” the king said softly, smiling. “There was no one else who tugged at my heart like she did. Ever since that moment, I knew she was the one I desired and through all this, Auri has helped me with every challenge. Even now she keeps me focused on this battle and helps me know who to trust by telling me who lies.”

Francis sat there silently, letting the king he felt sorry for get a moment of reprieve before Stenson and he pulled the noose tight. A part of him felt guilty knowing he was playing a man who needed this so that when they presented the plan to attack Baxter wouldn’t refuse.

Politics… games of deceit and lies… am I–

His heart missed a beat as he sat there, unnoticed by King Baxter who had closed his eyes, spilling forth what could be a sonnet of love for his wife.

Stenson… once he and his daughter used me. The Spire… Priscilla and this!

His gut clenched and he wanted to curse and to scream.

Everyone plays the game and those who tell you they don’t are the greatest players… I’ve been a fool. Stenson has held the strings for so many deaths and while I know he wants this war to end and the outcome to be in his favor… I think he sees me as a way to rid the world of the threat of the mages.

Francis sat there, smiling and nodding, occasionally making sounds of listening, the entire time reciting every curse word he knew at the man who had played with the most painful string of all.

If he calls me son again…

It was hard not to fear a man you knew could kill you as easily as snapping a dry twig. But for Francis, there was no fear. Death didn’t have a hold on him.