Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    "This is a dream, Blood Runner," Cathis said. "I need you lucid."

    "But my mother..." Krayson turned to look at her. She was engulfed by the flames, her beautiful hair curling into cinders as she scraped the skillet over the stove. As it had when she was placed on her pyre.

    A dream, Krayson thought. Thunders, this is oneiromancy.

    Krayson, no longer a child but a man, turned to face Cathis and did nothing to hide the storm lurking in his eyes. "What gives you the right?" he demanded.

    "You forget whom you speak to, boy," Cathis snarled. He produced a pendent from beneath his embroidered doublet and let the silver chain dangle from his fingers. A teardrop vial filled with dark red liquid swayed in time with the beating of Krayson's heart. "A thought from me and your life is forfeit."

    Krayson knew that what he saw wasn't his actual blood. The king wasn't standing in front of him. None of this was real. It was a figment of his mind, and the king projected himself into it through sorcery. As with sendings, the threads of the Ethereum Weave that connected Krayson's imprint to the king's-- via their previous interactions-- carried words, thoughts, and images. Within the open state of mind one was in while dreaming, those threads made an oneiromancer appear as part of the recipients dream.

    In this case, Cathis was using an intermediary. Someone else cast the spell that put Cathis into Krayson's dream. If Krayson didn't miss his guess, Tarlus Algara was the one working the spellcraft. The only son of Prince Vintus was famous throughout the magocracy for his mastery of the discipline. Tarlus was likely the most accomplished oneiromancer in the Spired City, if not all the Five Kingdoms.

    Krayson gave the pendant a glance before meeting the king's eyes again. "I don't care what power you have over me, Your Grace. A man's mind is his own."

    Cathis' eyes widened, and he bared his teeth in his outrage. "You have a mouth on you, boy," he said in a low and threatening tone. "It's like you want me to kill you."

    "Kill a blood runner under your own contract? The Order would have something to say on that, and even the Highest King isn't an autocrat." Krayson leaned in, bringing his face within a hand of the king's. "Unless you wish to undermine the same magocracy that upholds your throne... Your Grace."

    "Bah!" Cathis let the pendant fall and turned his back on Krayson. He strode away angrily. "Once these kingdoms are set right again, there is much to see to about the place your brothers have in the magocracy."

    "Without us," Krayson said, "there is no magocracy. The Order is the only viable way to transfer bloodsongs. No blood runners, no hierarchs. No hierarchs, no magocracy. Every hedge wizard and dabbler of runes could pursue any manner of spellcraft they desired." Krayson stepped forward. "Unregulated use of magic leads to every horror the royal assassins are tasked with eradicating. Domination, gemstone theurallurgy, skiamancy, flesh forging, blood magic, and any number of lost schools and disciplines would spread like plagues. Can you stop them all without the hierarchs enforcing the laws of the magocracy? Without the blood runners and the services we provide, the Continent would face the threat of an arcane apocalypse inside of a decade."

    Cathis scoffed. "You overestimate our need of your kind."

    "You refuse to acknowledge our necessity."

    "Uncle," the voice whispered again, perhaps believing Krayson couldn't hear it. "There is little time left."

    Krayson spoke loudly, a note of pleased triumph showing in his voice. "You may tell your nephew that I will unlock my wards for now."