Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction, written because of the author’s enjoyment of the books by Trudi Cavanan. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of Trudi Cavanan and various publishers, except for certain original characters that belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the private enjoyment of readers at Fancrone Net, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.
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The End
Akkarin dropped to his side, even as the remaining magicians advanced on the Sachakan. Deadly determination shone like cold fire in the eyes of every guild member. For a moment Sonea hesitated, torn between the need to heal and the need to kill.
To her surprise, the Ichani did not attack at once. A slight wavering in his stance told her that this he had not anticipated this turn of events at all.
“You’re dead,” she hissed. And she knew she had the power to kill him. But he hesitated. Now, with Akkarin lying dead on the floor, the ichan did not seem so eager to continue the fight. A fight that he was sure to lose… no matter how many other magicians he’d take with him. For a second she caught a strange spark in his eyes. Cold, cruel calculation. He was looking at someone who was standing behind Sonea.
Then he did something unexpected. He dropped down on his knees. “I see I was mistaken. The Guild is not quite as powerless as I expected it to be.”
But a cruel smile was tugging at his mouth as he cast a sideways glance at where Akkarin lay in a puddle of dark red blood. For a second Sonea almost lost hold of her anger.
“Your Majesty, I beg for your mercy.”
Sonea took a step backwards, just enough so she could see King Merin’s reaction. Was there still enough time to save Akkarin? If he died, only because…
“Why should I grant you my mercy?”
“I could kill all of your magicians, before you are able to overwhelm me.”
How could he appear so calm? When would they finally stop talking? She felt how the power Akkarin had given her was already starting to ebb away. She tried to discern if he was still breathing. A knot of fear turned her stomach upside down. Calm, Sonea. She focused on the Ichan again.
“And I could be useful to you.” A devious glint shimmered in Kariko’s eyes.
But surely the King wouldn’t fall for that. To her horror, she saw how a hint of greed flashed through Lord Garrel’s eyes. Kariko remained utterly still, giving no excuse to attack him.
“Very well.” The King looked at the magicians. “As I understand there is an option of depleting his reservoir of power? Make sure he is harmless. If he offers any resistance, kill him. No matter what the cost. But only -” his voice turned unexpectedly sharp and commanding. “Only if there’s no other choice.”
Then he was gone.
Kariko remained where he was. “Now, who’s going to dare and touch me? Are you sure you can do what your king has ordered you to do?”
Sonea stepped forward. “Be careful what you say, ichan!”
She did not bother to reach down. She slashed the blade right across his forehead. She expected him to turn on her, to try and kill her and everyone else. But he stayed where he was, unmoving. Moments later power suffused her.
When she was sure that there was no power left in the ichan, she turned around. Akkarin lay on the ground, his face stark white against the crimson of blood and the black of his robes. His face was contorted with agony, his fingers curled stiffly around the blade protruding from his chest.
He was not breathing.
“Akkarin!”
Sonea dropped to the ground next to him, unheedful of the blood and the magicians closing in on the ichan.
“Akkarin,” she whispered.
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