“Prince Maric,” Severan commented. “How . . . unexpected of you to show yourself here, of all places.” It
“Your guards are dead,” Maric told him. “I wouldn’t bother calling for them.”
“I could shout louder and bring my entire army here down upon you.”
Maric smiled mirthlessly. “Not before I killed you.”
Severan had to admit he was impressed. This young man looked every bit the King, and a warrior, too. How unlike the rumors about him; they spoke of a man entirely unlike the killer he faced now.
He stretched out his arm and spoke a single word, a command in the ancient Tevinter tongue, and Severan’s ornate staff flew across the tent to land in his hands. He sneered at the young prince confidently. “Is that what you’re here to do? You might find it a bit of a challenge, my prince.”
Maric’s face filled with fury. “Don’t you call me that.”
“My prince? Why ever not?”
Without response, Maric lunged at the mage, bringing his sword down even as Severan held up his staff and blocked the swing. White sparks flew as the weapons connected, as well as a flash of fire. Severan’s eyes went wide as he realized the weapon’s power.
Casting a quick spell, he held out a palm toward Maric, and lightning leaped out, striking the man and sending him flying back, screaming in pain. Maric smashed into a cabinet, knocking it over and nearly bringing that section of the tent down on top of him. Outside, the distant sound of alarmed shouts rang out.
Severan walked slowly toward where the Prince still spasmed in pain, jolts of electricity zapping throughout his armor. “Did you really think you could walk into my camp and defeat me, young man? How did you even find me?”
Maric rolled over, gritting his teeth in agony as he slowly got to his knees. “A present from Katriel,” he hissed, looking up at the mage through slitted eyes.
“She told you?” Severan rubbed his beard in interest. “And where is she now?”
“Dead.” The Prince stood, shaking with the effort and resisting the effects of the lightning with sheer willpower.
Again Severan was impressed. But impressive as he was, the man wasn’t about to beat him with a sword. Holding out his staff toward Maric, he shouted several words again in the Tevinter tongue, and the entire tent flashed as a storm brewed within it. Chill winds suddenly spun within, instantly covering the fabric of the walls and the ground with frost and freezing Maric to the spot.
The silvery armor was quickly frosted up, and Maric doubled over in pain, trying to fight off the winds and snow. The skin on his face froze and cracked, bright blood welling from the wounds. “A shame,” Severan sighed as he walked toward Maric calmly. “I would have preferred to kill the elven wench myself, after what she did to me. If you’ve spared me the effort, I imagine I’ll need to practice the tortures I’ve thought up on you, instead.”
The prince was back on his knees, cringing in pain as Severan stood over him. The mage held out a hand, preparing to cast another spell on his helpless target, when suddenly Maric flung his hand up.
Something flew from his hand at Severan’s face, a cloud of dust or dirt. Severan wasn’t quite sure, but either way, it stung his eyes and burned the inside of his throat, and he stumbled back quickly. Falling over an ice-covered chair, he cried out in pain as he hit the floor, instantly convulsing into a coughing fit as the burning sensation in his throat became even more intense.
He could barely see. Coughing madly, he tried to crawl away from where the Prince must still be, lest the man come running with his blade.
Maric picked himself up only slowly, however. The wind still blew wildly around the tent, flinging small pieces of furniture and books about and threatening to blow the tent itself away. More shouts could be heard through the wind, coming closer. Maric was covered in thick frost and bleeding from cracks in his face and hands, and gritting his teeth, he began to slowly limp toward the mage.
“Another gift from Katriel,” he gasped through his pain. “She left me a letter. It told me who you were, told me how to find you and everything I needed to defeat you.” As Severan’s eyes began to clear, he saw tears running down from the Prince’s eyes, leaving trails on his frost-white skin.
“You won’t leave this place alive!” Severan shouted in rage. He scrambled back more quickly, but the Prince kept advancing. Finally, gathering his will, Severan held up his palm toward the man. His hand wreathed in a burst of flame . . .
. . . and then the flame gutted out. In the back of his head, a familiar buzzing roared into life, and numbness started to spread through his body.
