From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [2]
“One of my apprentices, Master.”
“His name?”
“Sidal son of Lekim.”
“Lekim.” The Hadad drew out the m. “Lekim is a black knight, is he not?”
Sidal dared to glance up. “Was, my lord. He was killed during an attack against Sir Gavin Whitewolf and his prince just outside Mirrorstone.”
The Hadad lifted his chin. “Yes, I remember. I daresay you have no love of our king in waiting.”
Sidal pulled his dagger from his belt and squeezed the handle. “If I were to see Sir Gavin or his princeling, I would kill them both.”
The Hadad chuckled. “He’s precious, Macoun. Wherever did you find him?”
“His mother brought him to me after his father was killed.”
“Hmm.” The Hadad peered down on Sidal. “Seems to me the father was a failure. And so the son will likely be. You do find the lowliest apprentices, Macoun.”
Fire shot through Sidal’s veins. How dare this man call his father a—
Macoun gripped Sidal’s empty hand. Put the knife away, boy.
Sidal obeyed, as if he had no choice.
Macoun lifted their joined hands. “I use what comes to me, Master, as you once instructed. See?”
A chill shot up Sidal’s arm and pooled in his chest. He tried to pull away from his master’s touch but found he could not move.
Macoun pushed his other hand outward, palm facing the Hadad. Green lines of light crackled around his fingers, swirled in his palm, and settled there like a ball of light.
“So this boy is your crutch,” the Hadad said. “Very clever of you to find a way to make magic, Macoun, but I have more important things to discuss. What does Lord Nathak say his son will do now that—?”
“Not today,” Macoun said, his voice a droning hum. “For you have tarried too long.” He thrust out his palm, lobbing the ball of light at the Hadad.
The teacher caught it in a burst of sparks and wind that blew Sidal’s hair back from his face. “Too long for what?”
Macoun’s robes billowed around him as a new ball of light gathered on his palm. “The time has come for another to take your place.”
The Hadad’s eyebrows curled. “And you think it will be you?” He motioned to Sidal. “You can barely stand without stealing some poor fool’s energy, and your strikes”—he lifted his hand and deflected Macoun’s next attack—“are child’s play.”
Sidal didn’t understand what Macoun was doing. They had never practiced such magic. He wanted the cold to stop. For his master to release his hold. But he could not move.
Macoun lobbed another ball of green flame. “The keliy tires of your pace, master. It came to me. Suggested I could do what you could not.”
“Lies! The keliy has been loyal to me all these years. It would never betray me so.” The Hadad threw a handful of green fire at Sidal.
Sidal wanted to duck aside, but he was still frozen by Macoun’s touch.
Macoun disintegrated the fire with a pulse of green smoke from his hand. “That is where you are mistaken. The keliy is not your servant. It is your master. It wants what it wants, and you have taken far too long to deliver.”
The Hadad sputtered. “How dare you! I have spent years setting everything up. The time is at hand. All my hard work—”
“Will become mine.” Macoun shot a stream of light that singed the sleeve of the Hadad’s robe.
The Hadad howled.
Macoun sent a second stream. “Did you not wonder why Esek did not call out to you when his arm was severed from his body?”
This time the Hadad dodged the attack. “The keliy told me he healed him.”
“I healed him,” Macoun said. “The keliy gave me the power.”
The Hadad stumbled on his robe, and one of Macoun’s streams of fire burned his cheek. He screamed, straightened, and conjured a shield of green light before him. “You cannot use your lies on me. Do not forget who taught you. Who raised you.”
Macoun stilled, his hand suspended before him. “I will never forget the life you gave me, Master. But the end comes to us all. And when it comes to you, I am the next chosen. So the keliy has said. I feel it only wise to take my position posthaste. Esek is subject to me now, as is his father. Only you stand in my way.”
“If you wish to die, you