Therin looked at Annev as if he were mad. Instead of arguing, though, he shrugged. ‘Good luck.’ Then he took off at a run, leaping from the edge of the dais and seizing one of the hanging curtains. Within seconds, the scrawny acolyte had scurried up the cloth panel and swung himself into the maze.
Titus pulled his medallion over his head. ‘You shouldn’t stay either, Annev. Take this and go – I don’t need it.’
Annev hesitated. He wanted that medallion – he needed it if he was going to win the key – but he hated the idea of taking advantage of his friend. He cursed those feelings, knowing he needed to quell his conscience if he was going to use Titus and Therin to win tomorrow.
‘Come on, Annev,’ Titus continued, ascribing virtuous motives to his friend’s hesitation. ‘We both know I’m not cut out to be an avatar, but you are. You deserve this. Someone else will steal it from me anyway, and I’d rather you had it.’
Annev smiled at his friend, grateful. Maybe he didn’t have to betray his friends to win tomorrow. Maybe they would help him anyway. He tucked the second Rod of Paralysis into his wrappings then reached for Titus’s medallion. As he did so, the curtains near the edge of the dais wavered. He stopped. Somewhere in the shrouded nave, a boy cried out. Footsteps followed, and then another boy shouted something.
‘Annev?’
Instead of taking the medallion, Annev pressed it back into his friend’s hand. He grinned.
‘Keep hold of it. I have an idea.’
Chapter Nine
Fyn dropped from the curtains like a shadow falling on felt, landing on bent knees and lightly touching his fingertips to the floor as his large frame expertly absorbed the impact. He froze, tense as he listened for noise. Hearing none, he rose and stalked over to the stairs leading to the dais. A half-dozen badges hung around his neck and a Rod of Paralysis appeared in each hand. After surveying the quiet platform, he saw Titus’s prone form, stalked over, and poked the acolyte in the chest with a rod.
‘Got caught out, huh?’
Titus didn’t move or respond. Fyn smiled, leaned over, and patted the boy’s chest.
‘I’m guessing you were with your friends, and when you were paralysed they abandoned you. Or maybe they paralysed you and took your medallion?’ Fyn tapped the wooden tokens hanging around his neck. ‘That’s what I’d have done. Good strategy, though – finding the high ground. Wrapping yourself up. Clever.’
Fyn knelt by Titus’s limp body, his dreadlocks falling across the younger boy’s face, and simultaneously prodded the boy in the neck and forehead. Titus jerked, and then his body went truly slack.
Fyn grinned. ‘Never hurts to be careful. Maybe I should give you an extra poke to be sure.’ He leaned forward, pressed a wand against Titus’s nose, and watched as the smaller boy began to blink uncontrollably, eyelids twitching. Fyn studied Titus’s spasming face then lifted the wand away. ‘That’s a good trick. Wouldn’t mind seeing it again.’ Very slowly, Fyn lowered the tip of his wand until it pressed against Titus’s cheekbone. The corner of Titus’s mouth began to twitch. Fyn pressed harder, tracing circles on his cheek until the acolyte’s eyes spasmed.
A shout and the sound of a struggle came from the nave. Fyn glanced over his shoulder at the hanging curtains then lifted the wand.
‘Enough messing around.’ Fyn slipped a hand beneath the cloth wrappings covering Titus’s chest and checked for a medallion. He grinned as he found the younger boy’s token.
‘So you were just pretending to be stunned.’ He pulled the badge from beneath Titus’s wrappings, snapping the hemp. ‘Risky, but—’
Fyn’s head jolted backward as Annev jabbed a Rod of Paralysis into the base of his neck. His body slumped, about to tip forward, but Annev shoved him aside before he could fall across Titus and crush the smaller boy. Fyn’s body twisted and then toppled into the empty water trough where Annev had been concealed.
Annev checked his friend’s pulse. ‘You all right, Titus?’
The blond boy blinked but did not otherwise move.
‘I’ll take two blinks as a yes?’ Titus blinked twice, and Annev breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Sorry it took so long to circle behind Fyn. I thought he would come back here, but I should have known Fyn would take the time to torture someone who looked helpless.’
Annev made sure Titus was lying comfortably then hopped into the water trough and rolled Fyn over. The avatar’s face was frozen, though his eyes were filled with hatred. Annev felt his own flood of rage; he wanted to hurt Fyn – deliberately hurt him, as he had hurt Titus. He wrestled with that impulse for a moment, imagining pressing the rod into Fyn’s mouth or against his eye, watching as the boy got a taste of his own abuse.
Annev grabbed one of the rods Fyn had dropped and, on impulse, pressed its black tip to the boy’s chin. Fyn’s jaw chattered beneath the power of the wand’s arcane magic.
‘You’re never just happy to win,’ Annev whispered in the boy’s ear. ‘You always have to be mean, too.’ He slid the wand down, prodding Fyn in the neck. A breath of air was forced from the boy’s lungs and Fyn’s eyes went wild before he began to choke – a strangled gurgle between clenched teeth. Annev held the wand steady and recognised the rush of emotions he’d experienced while holding the Rod of Healing.
‘This is how it feels to be tortured, Fyn,’ Annev continued. ‘To be powerless. It’s terrifying, isn’t it? Being at the mercy of someone stronger than you.’ Annev pressed harder, thrilling as the larger boy’s chest began to convulse in waves of panic.
I could kill him, Annev thought. I am killing him.
With a jerk, Annev pulled his hand back. Fyn’s breathing normalised, though his eyes remained frantic.
Annev felt ashamed and guilty, but powerful, too. Like when he was holding the Rod of Healing, he felt as if he had only begun to understand what the rods could do. A part of him itched to delve deeper – to probe the limits of the wand’s magic – but this wasn’t the moment. There was still a test to complete.
Annev picked up the other rod Fyn had dropped then tucked all four wands beneath his wrappings, careful to ensure they could not touch his skin. Both hands free, Annev patted Fyn down and scooped up the half-dozen badges slung around the boy’s neck. He took Titus’s token from Fyn’s hand, knotted it and hung all seven beside his own.
Annev stood and saw Fyn’s eyes watching him. He felt the same rush of emotions as before – anger, vindication, power – but instead of dismissing them or giving in to them, Annev seized them, harnessing those feelings and channelling them into a single impulse: the desire to protect others.
Annev leaned forward, nose to nose with Fyn.
‘Don’t ever hurt my friends again – or next time, I will kill you.’
Fyn blinked, unable to hide the fear behind his eyes, and Annev sensed something significant change between the two of them. A small part of Annev thrilled at that, while a larger part worried he might one day need to follow through on his promise. He sincerely hoped it would never come to that.