“I am afraid of no one,” he said, his gaze locked with Elgot’s. The Asrai was unable to look away. “But I won’t have anyone meddling in the affairs of my city. Meddling as you did, all those moons ago. You were so imperious back then, so bloody condescending. Descending upon Armoria’s changelings like a silver god coming home. You were dangerous, putting such ridiculous thoughts in their heads.”
“You outlawed magick,” Elgot spat, finding his voice as the old anger returned. “Outlawed it for everyone but your simpering druids. To draw magick from the earth of their homeland is the changelings’ birthright.” Even the repeated bite of the Pit Masters’ whips had failed to convince him otherwise.
“The simple fact of birth guarantees no rights to anybody,” Dewer shouted, squeezing Elgot’s throat until he began to fight for breath. “You have to take what you want from this world. You have to rip it from the hands of the bastard who would steal it from you.”
“That is what I was teaching the changelings to do.” Elgot’s bloodshot eye was beginning to bulge. Fresh blood welled from his broken nose. “You were the bastard who stole from them. You stole their right to practise magick.”
Dewer relinquished his grip on Elgot’s neck and sat back. This was one of the reasons why he visited with him so frequently. With the exception of Aliona, no one else the length or breadth of Joria would dare talk to him the way this man just had. It could be pleasantly refreshing.
“Perhaps you are right,” he said. “Still, it is not enough to simply harbour the will to take what you want. You also need the strength to see it through. I was stronger then, and I’m stronger now.” He reached for the eye amulet and slammed it into the Asrai’s forehead. “I’ll ask you one last time. What does this bloody thing do?”
“It’s a protection amulet.” Elgot was too tired and wracked with pain to argue any further. “It’s of a type given to our people should they ever need to travel beyond the Wastes, spelled to activate if the wearer feels threatened.”
“By activate, do you mean it will explode?”
“Yes. It looks as though this amulet already has.”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Interesting.”
Dewer finally rose from Elgot’s chest, slipping the amulet back into his cloak pocket as the Asrai scrambled across the floor. He tried to sit up but failed to muster the strength and slumped back onto his elbows, chest rising and falling sharply.
“Well, I certainly know why this particular Asrai felt threatened,” Dewer said, talking to himself as much as to Elgot. “It is a comfort to know this ugly necklace was not designed specifically to wreak havoc on my city. Still, I do wonder why I have another Asrai skulking about the place, so very far from home.”
He bent to retrieve the torch, still alight where it had rolled to a stop against the wall. When he held it out towards Elgot, the Asrai flinched but refused to turn away.
“I sincerely hope they are not here to cause an upset, as you did, Elgot. We both know how that will end.”
Elgot remained silent, the heat from the torch drawing beads of cold sweat from his forehead.
“Do you realise how long you’ve been here, Prince Elgot?” He did not wait for a reply. “Long enough that the changelings have entirely forgotten you. All you did was make their lives worse. I have my Salt Swords keep a close eye on them these days. No one plays with earth magick and goes unpunished.”
“I know why you are afraid of the Asrai,” Elgot said, his voice low and measured. “I know why you outlawed earth magick. You are a man wedded to absolute power, unable to relinquish control even for a moment. The Asrai and the changelings could muster power to rival that of your druids, if only they were made aware of it. That is why I have been left to rot in this place. Yet even after all these years, I still cannot fathom what reason you have for desiring such strict control. What is it you believe would happen should common magick be allowed to thrive throughout the land once more?”
“You speak out of turn, Asrai.” Dewer’s knuckles ached and he was hungry, eager to return to the citadel above and leave Elgot to the crushing weight of his black prison. “It is not for you to wonder at the reasons behind my actions.”
“You leave me with little else to do, Lord Dewer.”
Dewer smiled. “Perhaps next time I visit, I will bring you a book to read.”
Elgot shuffled further back into the corner of his cell and Dewer sighed, pulling his cloak more tightly about himself as he turned to leave.
“You know, Elgot, I believe if we had met under different circumstances, we could have become firm friends.”
Dewer shut the door firmly and made his way back up the long corridor. He was accompanied only by the sharp click of his boot heels on the stone floor, the slow drip of condensation making languid paths between the blooms of oozing black growth, and the occasional long, low moan of a tormented inmate.
