First Apprentice

Chapter 24 Part 1

The next four days passed in a flurry of letters, law books, and summons. I sent Grandfather a list of questions in the morning, ate, summoned the Ancient Gate, trained, ate, read his replies, and summoned the Central Keystone. Each day, I completed the bare minimum of paperwork — a two to three-page gate maintenance report — and then threw myself back into my studies.

With my fingers aching from one summon too many, I trudged down the trail leading toward the cave where I set up my study. Questions chased themselves in my mind as my impotent rage built with each footstep. My temples throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

Before I fell into bed around midnight, I placed a memory crystal packed with whatever paperwork Terry's band of idiots sent up that day and five folders averaging two hundred pages each, which contained the Central Keystone's records going back to the gate's creation. Burning them into the backs of my eyelids left me with a lingering headache that faded after my first cup of coffee and bags under my eyes from disturbed sleep.

Memory crystals weren't new to me. For years, Grandfather packed ever-increasing volumes of material into the crystals, which I used first every third night, then every other night, and in the last year nightly.

Headaches were the least concerning side effect. Improperly packed crystals caused memory loss and even death. Grandfather felt I needed to learn in ten years what he learned in eighty. No one asked if I wanted to use the crystals. They didn't ask if I wanted twice daily sparring sessions either.

Grandfather just did. The rest of us either fell in step or he dragged us along behind him.

By my calculations, I had another two months before I finished slogging my way through the Central Keystone's history — a history of war in everything but name. If attacking a gate was an act of war and the Central Keystone was attacked every two years on average — rarely sustaining major damage before his guardians routed their attackers or summoned help — then how could anyone claim the Border Guard was at peace?

Lack of sleep combined with memory crystals and two to three summons per day — an insane amount even by my standards — left me teetering on the brink of exhaustion. Both physical and magical. There weren't enough hours in the day to maintain three gates, let alone twenty-nine, and write the gate maintenance reports and train and handle all the paperwork Helen legally couldn't do.

Terry still hadn't approved the guardian administrators he promised me four days ago. The latest healers report said they wouldn't release my teams for another week. At best, they'd release them one or two at a time. It would be a months before I got them all back and possibly six months before they were all cleared for summoning.

Lichen-covered boulders loomed on the horizon, marking the cave where I'd left my study. I felt naked up here without wards. I didn't even have a simple trip ward, which notified the caster whenever anyone crossed the line, because I didn't have time to cast them. My gates, especially the Central Keystone which was at half strength after helping repair the Dracon, came before my paranoid tendencies. Besides, my study was already secured.

I rounded the bend, gravel crunching underfoot as I turned my attention away from questions I couldn't answer and to the Central Keystone's status and the reports I needed to write before I passed out on my bed.

"Cave's up here," a voice shouted. "Mael, Tara, and Li in first. Put them in the back under as many blankets as we can spare. Philip, get a fire started. Tylar, Kevin, start carving seals around the entrance. Ambient wind blockers only. Save your magic in case we need an emergency teleport tonight."

I broke into a jog. Intruders in my cave. No, injured people in my cave, who should on Shedi in a hospital, not here.

"What about the apprentice?" someone asked.

"Hang the apprentice," the leader said. "The last thing we need is another pansy ass politician. Let the idiot freeze. Gods know we will."

That didn't sound promising. As I crested the rise, I spotted a ragtag group of people heading towards my cave. Not the trickle Helen mentioned. No, if my head count was accurate, all thirty were here. At once.

Only five appeared healthy. The others all showed signs of aura poisoning. Their auras littered with mottled blues, grays, and black flames.

Black flames. My magic. My fault.

My stomach twisted in knots as I noted the exhausted white haze cocooned around their bodies. Three were solid white with their clan markers completely obscured by the poison.

Cursing under my breath, I scanned the group a second time and made a split-second decision. My fault. I did this. If I left them out in the cold, I'd wake to their corpses. My life wasn't worth more than any of theirs. If anything, it was worth less.

I thralled during the summon. I lost control of my magic. I poisoned them. I would not let anyone else die because of me. First my mother in childbirth, then Cook, who leaped to my defense when Jon challenged me for mating rights, even Jon.

Endellion argued he brought it on himself. He challenged me and paid the price. However, his memories made one point clear. When the council ordered his sisters' magic sealed three years before the law required it, Jon turned to Melantha for help. She spun a tale of a mature, female dae dracon living on Vinetta, a young woman who wanted a mate and family and was willing to seize control of the clan only if her mate handled the politics. Melantha told him exactly what he wanted to hear. Jon was too desperate to question it.

I would not let anyone else die because of me. They needed treatment, but how? I wasn't a healer.

My mind turned to the last time I accidentally poisoned Grandfather. Endellion took me to the kitchens and taught me how to brew cruju — a magic-infused blood soup used after flares and transformations. Normally it served as a balancer with the parent's magic easing the child's. In poisoning cases, it was part antitoxin, part stasis seal. Healers rarely used it because the contributor's magic must be stronger than the patient's or it will make the poisoning worse. That wasn't a problem for me.

I had the supplies. After the first serious incident with Grandfather, I started laying in a reserve and never stopped. Cruju worked best when administered alongside a purification ritual, warmth, and decent food. All of which I could and would make available regardless of the personal cost.

I caused this. I would fix it.

Shoulders squared, I approached the group huddled around the cave's mouth and tapped the one I assumed to be the leader on the elbow. My fingers met icy flesh through the thin cloth. Was that muslin? The invoice said wool. An issue for later when people weren't dying.

He whirled around, lightening crackling in his hand. "Guardian?"

I shook my head. "Your pansy ass politician actually," I said with a respectful, but not deferent, nod. "I'm Alannah. Grab your packs and come with me."