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“Velvore!” Cord whispered urgently.
“You may as well pray toallthe Ancients. He is going to need it,” Jameis said grimly as he lifted Michael’s head to trickle the liquid into him.
Cord said nothing as he internally called on Velvore again. What was the point of bearing the Mark if you couldn’t call on the Ancient who bid you bear it? He felt a slow warmth on his back. He stiffened with surprise before he realised what it was. The heat seeped up his back and across his shoulders before flowing gently down his arm to his hand.
The hand that held Michael.
Cord instinctively placed his palm on Michael’s pulse and tightened his hold. He felt the warmth transfer to the motionless Akrhyn.
Jameis leapt back in shock. “What is happening? What are you doing? What power is this?” His eyes were wild as he stared at Cord and back to Michael’s prone body. “Stop!”
“Be quiet,” Cord said to the Pure Castor as he watched colour come back to the Holt Heir. “Do you see this?” he asked, a little in awe despite what he knew to be happening.
“Yes.” Jameis looked at the Crimson Castor’s hand. A faint light could be seen. “You’re glowing.”
“It tickles,” Cord said quietly.
“Castor, what did you do?” Jameis asked cautiously.
Both started when Michael’s eyes flew open, and he gasped in pain.
“Use your dose now, Jameis!” Cord directed harshly. “Quickly!”
Jameis did as he was bid, and Michael helped him by drinking it. Slowly the heat left Cord’s hand and ebbed away from his body. With a confidence Cord wasn’t sure was his own, he withdrew his hand. Michael lifted the beaker to his lips with his free hand and gulped the liquid down at Jameis’s urging.
As he lay back down, Cord avoided Jameis’s curious stare. “How do you feel?”
“Did I die?” Michael asked hoarsely. “I feel like I died.”
“Have you died before?” Cord asked him wryly.
“No, Castor.” Michael had previously been moments from death, but he still had the ability to roll his eyes, Cord noted.
“Then how do youfeel likeyou died.” Cord stood abruptly. “You are fine. Castor Jameis has administered great skill and revived you.” Jameis’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the unusual, but more importantly the undeserved, praise from the arrogant Castor. “I am sure he can finish your restoration to good health. I have to go.”
“Cord!” Jameis called, but it was too late, he was gone.
“What in shade’s name is happening?” Michael demanded as he looked sternly at the Pure Castor.
* * *
Lucas Chernov was of the Dark Cast. He had always known he would be. When he was a young male and he felt the first flicker of the Flare, he had known what Cast he wanted. He trained hard, and when it was time for his Trials, he had performed admirably to much praise from his peers and the Great Council. His Cast result had been an inky black, confirming what he had always known.
His Cast was Dark.
Being of Dark Cast did not mean an Akrhyn was dark or evil or any other ridiculous connotation that was associated with the wordDark. It merely meant that they were willing to explore the darker elements of their craft. Sometimes that called for a blood sacrifice, buteveryCastor who needed a powerful spell to be performed required blood. Blood magic was potent, and whether a Castor was Pure, Crimson or Dark, the need for blood in the spell was the same, whatever colour of robe you wore.
He knew that there were Castors who sympathised with the Drakhyn cause, and there were mutterings throughout the Akrhyn population that those Castorsmustbe Dark. However, this was not the case, and to Lucas,allCastors who were on the same side as Drakhyn had no Cast. They should not be able to call themselves Castor.
The fact that they were on the side of Darkness was enough. Many also were confused that being on the Drakhyn side, those Akrhyn were keen to see Drakhyn prevail. This was not the case. It meant that they were eager to see Darkness take more of a foothold in the world. Light and Dark must always be in balance. Too much of one led to discord. Pure Castors were arrogant in thinking that they were Cast solely in Light.A Pure Castor was no more favoured by the Light than a Dark Castor. He couldn’t completely argue the case for the Crimson Cast. Lucas snorted inwardly as he looked around the room he had portalled into.
He, Lucas Chernov, Dark Cast Prime had been sent on an errand by an upstart young Akrhyn whose own arrogance made even Lucas look humble.Whyhe had followed Cord’s direction, he was uncertain. As Lucas crossed to the door, he reprimanded himself. He knew why. Cord Ivanov was an anomaly. His power untold. Lucas had been watching him all his life. Watching and waiting for him to take his Trials and be declared Dark Cast. There was the uncomfortable knowledge deep within Lucas’s mind that it was probable the next Dark Prime would be Cord. Yes, he had watched his potential replacement closely through the years.
Then Cord had taken his Trials. The ink in the sacred bowl had remained clear. The process was deep ancient magic. At the end of a Castor’s Trial, they were “gifted” a vial of ink. The vial was never in the same place as a Castor left the Trial, but they would see it and they would collect it. They then handed over the ink to the adjudicators of the Trial, and then as one, the adjudicators spilled the vial into the sacred bowl. To the eye, the ink was blue, just as the sky was blue. On mixing with the water in the sacred bowl, the ink turned the liquid white, red or black.
Cord had handed his vial over. All tests had been completed. The adjudicators had already commented through his Trial that he had handled his Tests with ease and barely broke a sweat. The three adjudicators had spilled Cord’s ink into the bowl, and the water remained clear. It did not turn. It hadn’t even hinted at turning. His result was undetermined.Every part of his Trial had been rechecked. Reconsidered. From leaving the Trial to handing over the vial, he had been scrutinised. The result was conclusive, he could not have interfered with the vial.
Cord Ivanov had no Cast.
