A Price to Pay (1)

Irene tapped her fingers on the desk. She had been sitting here, staring out the window for hours by now. How long was that rut going to take? A day had passed, and the time when the sorcerer was going to leave the cathedral was drawing nearer with each passing day.

"You're nervous." Ivy commented as she passed by her. "I told you, stop putting your hopes on the shoulders of a human – a thief!" She placed a platter filled with food on the desk. "And eat up."

"What do you expect me to do, Ivy?" Irene snarled. "Walk up to the bats and demand they stop killing my people?" She scoffed at the thought.

"No, I'm telling you to rally the nobles, have them protect the ruts. Get the sorcerer to actually try and look at the events instead of claiming you will take care of it." Ivy's clear voice was almost condescending. She spoke as if she was talking to a child.

"And get laughed at?" She asked. Her fingers clenched, and her hand formed a fist. "Before anything else is done, we must make sure all accursed blood is removed from others' possession."

"You know that's not going to happen." Ivy said with an annoyed sigh. "The bats need it, the Old Gods protect the chalice in the cathedral, and your thief is missing. There are proper ways to deal with murders, Irene. Use them, not some plots from the shadows. You're not good at it."

"You didn't mind helping me contact the thief." Irene reminded her sister. "Only now when things take a turn for the worse, you stop supporting me. What's with that, sister?" She raised her ice cold eyes and glared at Ivy.

"Unlike a certain someone, I know when something fails." Ivy replied, she folded her arms and leaned on the desk. "The thief may as well be dead, or the bats got to him. Or the sorcerer noticed him. Or he just escaped the city. What happens if he doesn't come back?" She took a piece of dried meat from the plate and ate it.

"Then I'll find another way." Irene snarled. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm busy."

"Busy staring out the window?" Ivy laughed. "Listen, sister." She leaned forward and looked Irene in the eye. "I will always support you, even if we don't agree. But I will also tell you what I think, without softening it." She placed her hands on Irene's shoulders. "You are being an utter and complete idiot."

"Wake up, young man." The kind and gentle voice of the Sorcerer rang in his ears, startling him awake. He drew a sharp breath and noticed that he could move his mouth.

"What?" He whispered, his voice was dry and weak. He tried to open his eyes, but a cloth was tightly bound around them. Tight enough to hurt a little. "Where am I?" He hissed as his heart began to race. In a panic, he tried to move his arms and legs, but the numbness remained, and all he could do was tilt his head to the side.

"In the Cathedral of the Old Blood." The voice responded. "Don't panic and try to stay calm. It wasn't easy to restore your ability to speak."

Aoric's heart skipped a beat. "You wield magic." He was right.

"I do," The Sorcerer replied. "But even still, healing such injuries is not an easy feat." Aoric felt a hand touch his forehead. "You fever seems to have subsided, good."

"Why heal me?"

He heard the rustle of clothes as the Sorcerer probably circled around him.

"Why not? I told you that I felt responsible for your situation, did I not? You did get stuck inside Vesporum because of my choice to close the city gates. Can I not have a conscience?"

Aoric couldn't help but smirk. "No one as powerful as you would heal me just because of their conscience." Magic always came at a price. Power always came at a price. And this man wielded both.

"Well, you may be right." The Sorcerer muttered. "I have a use for you. You don't need to know what it is, I will explain when the time comes."

"Tell me now." Aoric hissed. He was sick of being used. He was done with it. "It's not like I can run away."

The Sorcerer chuckled. "I'm a secretive person, Aoric Ashborne. Besides, I'm sure you'd love to walk again."

Aoric bit his lips. He would indeed love to walk again but being a pawn in such a powerful persons hand seemed like a death sentence. "What could I possibly provide you with?" He finally asked.

"You'll see when the time comes." The Sorcerer stopped circling him.

"No magic is without a price, what do you want from me?" Aoric hissed.

"A promise." The Sorcerer chuckled. "When I call, you come. As simple as that."

Aoric hesitated. "Just that? I just… come to the cathedral?"

"Just that."

"Why?" It made no sense. Why hadn't he added something along the lines of 'do whatever I say'?

The Sorcerer laughed out loud. "Don't think about it too much, young man. I have my reasons, and no intention to kill you. Isn't that good enough?"

Aoric hesitated. "I don't know." He finally muttered. "I don't trust you."

"You shouldn't. Do you accept?"

He bit his lips. His options were to accept his deal or remain crippled for the rest of his life. The answer was quite obvious, and the sorcerer knew it just as well as he did.

"I don't have much of a choice. Sure, fine. I'll come when you call."

He felt something cut his cheek. "The deal is made. If you break it, you'll anger the old gods." The Sorcerer laughed. "Now then, let us begin."

Aoric gulped. "Let me see the magic." He asked. He had never seen magic, only heard of it. As dangerous as it was, he couldn't help but be curious. What did it look like? Was it visible?

"The magic of the Old Gods is not something a mortal mind should see, especially not one as young and… susceptible one as yours. Some things are best left to the imagination."