years.
Elric approached Kell. Galen wanted to tell him not to move, not to speak, that perhaps the vision in the light was an illusion. If they did not move, if they did not touch it, perhaps they could come to believe it was not real.
Kell had not deserved this.
Elric laid one hand on the back of the chair and turned Kell away from them. Galen thought at first that Elric wanted to shield them from the image. But then Elric brought his hands to either side of Kell's head, lifted it. A shudder ran down Elric's body.
Galen could not see. He found himself moving forward.
The spotlights shone into the back of Kell's skull. A neat circle of bone had been cut away, revealing the emptiness within. Most of his brain had been removed. Elric's hands moved to Kell's shoulders. Galen wanted him to stop. He could not see any more.
Elric pushed the shoulders forward, away from the chair. The back of Kell's robe had been cut away. Three parallel furrows transected him from shoulder to shoulder. From neck to tailbone, his spine was one wide, ragged wound, the skin peeled back to reveal the white bone of vertebrae. Down each side of the spinal cord, deep channels had been carved, and periodic clumps of tissue, muscle, and nerves scooped cleanly away where they'd become inextricably intertwined with high concentrations of tech. Tiny holes revealed channels cut deeper within. The work was so extensive, only a few traces remained of the stippled black discoloration along Kell's spine and shoulder blades.
There were easier ways to kill him. And the removed tech could be of no use. It had fused with Kell's system. It had adapted to his body, his mind. It could be commanded by no one else.
Elric pulled Kell's shoulders back, gently rested him against the chair. For a moment Kell's dark eyes pointed up at Galen, and Galen remembered how that gaze used to make him feel, as if Kell saw right into him. But those eyes saw nothing now. They were as empty as hers had been.
Kell's head shifted, his empty gaze falling away. Elric straightened his head against the back of the chair, turned the chair to its original orientation, as if that could somehow erase what they had seen.
Only a mage could do such detailed work. Tilar was only in chrysalis stage; he wouldn't have powerful enough sensors to detect all the fine threads of the tech. Razeel, Galen thought, wouldn't have the skill to cut it away so precisely. But there was one who had proven himself expert in his knowledge of the body and its vulnerabilities, who had shown the skill to use that knowledge effectively.
Galen's anger had been misdirected. Kell had erred, but he had not been the one to betray the techno-mages. He had not been the one to join the Shadows. He had not been the one to kill her. The grief and fury he had felt at the sight of Kell's ship returned full force, and a sudden surge of energy drove through him, burning to act, to strike back.
"The ship belongs to Elizar," Elric said.
Behind them a door slid open and Galen spun, ready to attack. With fierce focus he forced his mind to be still, to be blank. He would not conjure on instinct.
Two dark figures emerged from the air lock.
Galen stepped out of the spotlights, saw that it was Blaylock and his former student, Gowen. Galen struggled to slow his breathing, to regain control.
"The blessing of Wierden upon-" Gowen's greeting broke off in a gasp.
"He has been flayed," Elric said.
Blaylock addressed Gowen. "Turn away. Come no closer."
Gowen obeyed.
Blaylock's pale face, scoured of all hair, seemed to float in the shadows. "They know where we are," he said.
One after another, the ship's lights went out, leaving only the light globe Elric had conjured. Then in the near darkness, brilliant red fire spread down Kell's arms. The fire curled into runes, formed a message.
We will reclaim the techno-mages.
The tech echoed Galen's outrage. Elizar still had dreams of overthrowing the Circle, of leading the mages with Razeel
Elric approached Kell. Galen wanted to tell him not to move, not to speak, that perhaps the vision in the light was an illusion. If they did not move, if they did not touch it, perhaps they could come to believe it was not real.
Kell had not deserved this.
Elric laid one hand on the back of the chair and turned Kell away from them. Galen thought at first that Elric wanted to shield them from the image. But then Elric brought his hands to either side of Kell's head, lifted it. A shudder ran down Elric's body.
Galen could not see. He found himself moving forward.
The spotlights shone into the back of Kell's skull. A neat circle of bone had been cut away, revealing the emptiness within. Most of his brain had been removed. Elric's hands moved to Kell's shoulders. Galen wanted him to stop. He could not see any more.
Elric pushed the shoulders forward, away from the chair. The back of Kell's robe had been cut away. Three parallel furrows transected him from shoulder to shoulder. From neck to tailbone, his spine was one wide, ragged wound, the skin peeled back to reveal the white bone of vertebrae. Down each side of the spinal cord, deep channels had been carved, and periodic clumps of tissue, muscle, and nerves scooped cleanly away where they'd become inextricably intertwined with high concentrations of tech. Tiny holes revealed channels cut deeper within. The work was so extensive, only a few traces remained of the stippled black discoloration along Kell's spine and shoulder blades.
There were easier ways to kill him. And the removed tech could be of no use. It had fused with Kell's system. It had adapted to his body, his mind. It could be commanded by no one else.
Elric pulled Kell's shoulders back, gently rested him against the chair. For a moment Kell's dark eyes pointed up at Galen, and Galen remembered how that gaze used to make him feel, as if Kell saw right into him. But those eyes saw nothing now. They were as empty as hers had been.
Kell's head shifted, his empty gaze falling away. Elric straightened his head against the back of the chair, turned the chair to its original orientation, as if that could somehow erase what they had seen.
Only a mage could do such detailed work. Tilar was only in chrysalis stage; he wouldn't have powerful enough sensors to detect all the fine threads of the tech. Razeel, Galen thought, wouldn't have the skill to cut it away so precisely. But there was one who had proven himself expert in his knowledge of the body and its vulnerabilities, who had shown the skill to use that knowledge effectively.
Galen's anger had been misdirected. Kell had erred, but he had not been the one to betray the techno-mages. He had not been the one to join the Shadows. He had not been the one to kill her. The grief and fury he had felt at the sight of Kell's ship returned full force, and a sudden surge of energy drove through him, burning to act, to strike back.
"The ship belongs to Elizar," Elric said.
Behind them a door slid open and Galen spun, ready to attack. With fierce focus he forced his mind to be still, to be blank. He would not conjure on instinct.
Two dark figures emerged from the air lock.
Galen stepped out of the spotlights, saw that it was Blaylock and his former student, Gowen. Galen struggled to slow his breathing, to regain control.
"The blessing of Wierden upon-" Gowen's greeting broke off in a gasp.
"He has been flayed," Elric said.
Blaylock addressed Gowen. "Turn away. Come no closer."
Gowen obeyed.
Blaylock's pale face, scoured of all hair, seemed to float in the shadows. "They know where we are," he said.
One after another, the ship's lights went out, leaving only the light globe Elric had conjured. Then in the near darkness, brilliant red fire spread down Kell's arms. The fire curled into runes, formed a message.
We will reclaim the techno-mages.
The tech echoed Galen's outrage. Elizar still had dreams of overthrowing the Circle, of leading the mages with Razeel
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