Chapter 4

When he’s said it would hurt, he hadn’t been exaggerating; the only way he knew of to remove a binding sigil was to disrupt the magic embedded in the disk, then remove the disk from the skin. The only skill at his disposal to disrupt the binding magic was storm magic, lightning specifically. 

He had read that attempts had been made to remove the disks without disrupting the magic first, but the text had warned against it. In all but one case, the bound mages had died. Some slavers, once upon a time, used to sew the binding disks inside the mages, increasing the pain of disobedience and making them harder to remove, but also harder to renew the binding magic without causing lasting damage to the bound mage. Thank the Weaver, most slavers had returned to merely embedding them in the mage’s skin. Which was bad enough.

The tips of his fingers burned from even such a light touch, he shuddered to think of the pain she was suffering. He traced the feel of the magic to her other hip, finding another searing disk there. And still he sensed more of the repulsive binding magic, both bone and blood magic by the sticky, yet gritty feel of it. 

“How many sigils?”

She gritted her teeth to answer, “Five.”

He whistled softly, “They really didn’t want you getting away.”

“Just- Can you get rid of the damn things or not?”

He closed his eyes, pulling forward the blue of calm, the green of relief, adding a hint of fear’s orange for fuel. It took time but he could feel the prickles of static shock beginning to dance within his chest, raising the hair on his arms. Once his power filled him and he was fairly confident he could direct it, he met her eyes.

“The trick to breaking a binding is to disrupt the magic sustaining it, then remove and break the actual disk. The only way I know of to do that is… lightning.”

She froze and he could practically see the fear and outrage swirling around her in orange and garish yellow white. When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous.

”To be free from the binding, I endure electrocution?”

He grimaced, “Yeah. Not ideal but it’s the only way I know of. I would try to remove the disks without dealing with the magic, but… if the texts I read are to be believed, most mages don’t survive that.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, the young woman squared her shoulders and nodded, “If it’s the only way, then do it. I don’t… I can’t work for that monster any longer.”

Fyron wondered what she had experienced to cause such a vehement reaction. It seemed much more personal than just the deaths of some young mages she didn’t even know.

“Okay. First things first. Can you get off me?”

Her cheeks colored slightly as she realized she still sat astride his chest, “Sorry.”

Once relieved of the weight on his chest, he stuck out a hand, “Introductions. I’m Fyron Kyde. Fyr, if you like.” He paused, remembering the purpose of his flight from home, “In fact, Fyr is probably better for me now. Too many people know the young lord Kyde.”

Amber eyes watched him as he mused, before she too stuck out a hand, shaking his firmly, “Jerika of Verdyre. Probably best you call me Rika, for much the same reason. While I’m no noble, my family is the most renowned dyers in the province and it’s no secret that I was sold to House Feol.”

Fyron felt his jaw fall slack, his grip on his power loosening, “House Feol? No wonder the binding is so strong…”

Rika stomped her foot in impatience, “Enough idle chatter. If I’m going to be electrocuted, I’d rather not have the time to consider the possible consequences." 

Fyr shook his head to clear his thoughts and nodded his agreement, drawing in his magic once again. Filled to the brim with power, he reached for Jerika, his outstretched hand sparking with electricity, the other gripping his dagger. 

“I’ll try to be as quick as I can. As soon as the binding fails, I’ll cut the disks out. If the magic recovers before I can get them all, I’ll try it again. Once one is out, the others will try to compensate. I know you have one just above each hip,  where are the other three?”

She shivered, drawing in on herself as she answered, “Two below my shoulder blades. And this.”

A trembling hand pointed to the intricate collar at her throat, the blood red stone glinting almost maliciously, as if self aware. 

“Not embedded. Good. We’ll do that one last. Sit. It’ll be easier if you don’t have far to fall.”

Rika pulled her tunic over her head, leaving her in just her leggings, undershirt and bindings, “Fyr.” He found himself drawn in by her terrified but determined gaze, “Free me. No matter the cost.” She then bit down on the leather strap of her satchel and turned her back to him, revealing the scarred and blistered skin of her back.

He took a deep breath, nodded resolutely and got to work.

The smell of blood and burnt flesh would be forever lodged in his mind alongside the anguished cries and pitiful whimpers of the young woman now lying unconscious beside him. She had fared far better than he had foreseen and far beyond what he could have hoped to have endured in her place.

Her binding had been so strong, so well crafted, that he’d been forced to use his magic four times. Only when she was still convulsing from electrocution could he cut the disks from her skin, for the moment she stilled, the binding recovered and he was back to square one. Only the collar’s spell remained intact, though it no longer encircled her neck. It was symbolic of her imprisonment and something told him it would be fitting to allow her to destroy the last link in the chain binding her to House Feol.

He had sealed her wounds as best he could with the heat of lightning, managing to stop the blood flow, before shredding his spare shirt into clean strips to cover the tender skin. Trying to separate the heat from the electric current was far from simple and he was exhausted but he was also proud. In the past two hours he had gained more control over his magic than he’d dreamed possible. Directing his power, using it directly against another form of magic, isolating individual aspects of his gift… 

He leaned back against a tree and sighed happily. For all that the past two days had been exhausting, stressful and downright depressing, he was growing in ways he never could have even dreamed back home.

A faint whimper escaped Jerika’s prone form, “Fyr?”

“Right here.” He scooted closer, concerned. Though they had only known each other mere hours, theirs was a bond forged in pain and shared secrets. 

“The collar, the binding is still active. I can feel it.”

He drew the collar from its place in his pack and studied it, but no matter how much he focused on it, he felt nothing but the tiniest hint of residual magic. He set it on the ground beside Rika, ensuring the two would not accidentally come into contact.

“I sense no binding magic remaining, but there is something there. I originally saved it for you. I figured you might want to take the last step to freedom under your own power. If, as you say, there is still a binding at work, best be rid of it now.”

As he began to gather his power to destroy it, a block of granite the size of his head fell from the sky and crushed the offending trinket. 

Dumbstruck, he turned to see rich brown swirls of magic surrounding Rika, her fist clenched decisively. 

The stone then crumbled to dust, sparkling motes drifting away on the light breeze his own power had stirred up. Soon all that remained was a thin layer of dust and the mangled remains of the collar, the red stone cracked and oozing what appeared to be blood.

“It’s done.”

Hiding his discomfiture with a smirk, he dropped back to the ground, tucking his cloak around his companion., “Earth mage. Specializing in stone. Good to know. Don’t piss you off.”

Rika just stared at the twisted metal.

“Get some rest, Ri. I'll keep watch. We’ll need to move in a few hours in case Feol’s mages felt the destruction of that thing.”

Rika shuddered, pulling the cloak tighter around herself and struggling to her feet, wincing with every minute movement, “They definitely felt it. And they'll be coming. We need to go now.”

Fyr wondered if she should travel in her condition but if she was right and they were coming even now… it didn’t bear thinking about. His map, if accurate, had the next town at almost a half day’s walk and the companion his conscience wouldn’t let him abandon was moving at half speed. 

“Weaver help us.”