Keldren shook himself and leapt for the metal wheel protruding from the wall. For a moment it looked as if it would refuse to turn, until Kelos added his own strength. The heavy iron floodgates on the far side of the tank opened and the water sluiced out; the metal grille covering the mouth of the tunnel prevented Silus from being flushed out into the sea.
When the last of the water had drained away, the glass wall of the tank finally gave way in a cascade of fist-sized diamonds. In the blink of an eye, Kelos threw a magical shield around himself and Keldren.
Silus writhed on the floor, tangled in a skein of seaweed, dragging air into his lungs as his flesh slowly changed hue; claws withdrawing, eyes clouding momentarily as the black sheen of the Chadassa left them. Kelos kept up the shield for a moment longer, until he was sure that the monster within his friend had finally retreated.
“You have my thanks, Kelos,” Keldren said, brushing himself down. He walked over to where Silus lay. “He’s unconscious. I’ll allow you to tidy up in here, then if you can join me in my study, we can proceed with our next experiment.”
“But-” And Keldren was gone, leaving Kelos staring across the devastated room to where his friend lay.
“I’m sorry,” he said, bringing Silus round and helping him to sit up. “Really, I am.”
“We have to get out of here,” Silus croaked.
“I’m trying to moderate the effects of Keldren’s experimentation. Trying to make him see that what he is doing is wrong. If any of the elves can be won over, then it is surely he. At least he has given me a freedom of sorts.”
Silus merely stared blankly at his friend, until Kelos was forced to look away.
“Can you stand?”
“Just about.”
Kelos helped Silus to his feet and lead him out into the corridor.
“We can run, Kelos,” Silus said. “We can get out of here, find Katya, Zac and the others and go. You can perform the spell and send us all home. Take us away from all this.”
“I really can’t,” Kelos said, keeping his voice low for fear of Keldren overhearing them. “For a start, this place is impregnable. Keldren only trusts me with the keys to certain rooms, and the maze of tunnels is so confusing that I couldn’t possibly begin to imagine the way out, even if I could get past the main doors. And I can’t just magic us all home again. The spell that sent us here required a vast amount of raw magic; without something as powerful as the blood of a dragon, I will never be able to repeat it.”
Kelos unlocked a door and ushered Silus into the sparsely furnished room beyond. When he saw the look of despair on his friend’s face, as he took in the straw-stuffed mattress and the jug of briny water that sat on the stone floor, his heart sank.
“Give me time, Silus. I’ll think of a way out.”
He locked the door before his friend could say anything, only too aware of how empty his promises had started to sound.
Keldren looked up from the book in his lap as Kelos entered.
“Ah, good. I trust our subject has been secured?”
“If you mean did I put Silus back in his prison, then yes.”
“Come now, there’s no need to be like that. Just think of all the good work you are doing, adding to the sum of our knowledge, helping to make the elven empire great.”
“And the rest of my friends, the ones who were sent to the camps? How are they helping make your civilisation great? How does their suffering contribute to the glory of your people?”
“Would you care for some brandy?” Keldren said, uncorking a bottle.
“No, I would not care for some brandy.”
“You’re quite right, of course. We have work to do. We can imbibe later. For now, we have our next subject to attend to; fascinating to think of a human wielding elven magic. But, anyway… lead the way, Kelos. Lead the way.”
Emuel couldn’t move, couldn’t even look around to see who had just entered the room, so securely tied was he to the marble table. At his wrists and ankles, the leather straps had broken the flesh; dried blood crusted his bonds and stained the stone beneath him. The eunuch had been stripped bare, and for all the time he had spent in his presence, Kelos was still shocked by the scars of the boy’s emasculation.
“Keldren,” he said. “Silus may have the potential to be dangerous, but I can assure you that Emuel does not. This is entirely unnecessary.”
“On the contrary, my friend. Not knowing the limits of his power, we have to assume that Emuel is just as dangerous as Silus.”
“Emuel?” Kelos said. “Can you hear me?”
Emuel opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.
“What is this?”
“A precaution. As Emuel uses song magic, I cast a silence spell upon him. Now, let us begin our examination.”
Keldren held out his hands and, with a pop of displaced air, an open book appeared in them. The wizard ran his finger down a page, muttering to himself. Looking up, he fixed Kelos with an intense stare.
“Why was Emuel emasculated?”
“To preserve the pitch of his prepubescent voice. An adult human voice is normally unable to achieve the range required for elven song magic.”
“Ingenious. Cruel, but ingenious. And what can you tell me about his tattoos and scarifications? Why did somebody go to all the trouble of so marking his flesh?”
“Elven runics,” Kelos said. “A way of opening Emuel up to the magic of song.”
“Interesting. But not all of these are elven runics. This one here — the symbol that looks a bit like a crescent moon on its side, entangled in vines? — well, that is dwarven. A profanity, an insult in runes. Nothing more than crude graffiti.”
“I understand the Final Faith based their designs on ancient elf spells.”
“Yes, well, they were wrong then, weren’t they? But not entirely. See these? These are actually elven runes, but they’re like none I’ve seen before. At first I thought that they might be based on an earlier form of script. But, from the text here” — he indicated the book — “I’m now certain that’s not the case. The runes are elvish, but a form of the language not from our past. Therefore…”
Kelos looked blankly at Keldren for a moment, before he realised what the wizard was getting at.
“From your future? Magical canticles that have yet to be developed?”
“Exactly!” Keldren said, triumphantly. “There is magic here that no elf mage has yet wielded. Emuel is a repository of future magical knowledge. I will be able to extrapolate from the runics upon this one young boy to produce song magic of a power that none on the peninsula have yet witnessed. Such an advantage could have vast implications for the mages in our military. What you have gifted to us here, Kelos, is a potential weapon in the war with the dwarves.”
“Emuel is no weapon, Keldren. And I didn’t gift him to you, any more than I gifted you Silus. If you don’t remember, we were taken against our will.”
Keldren closed the book and placed it beside Emuel. “May I remind you, Kelos, that as a gesture of goodwill I have given you certain freedoms? This is in recognition of our bond as mages. Do not abuse my hospitality; you can be given over to the camps like that!” Keldren snapped his fingers.
Kelos opened his mouth, but could think of nothing to say. He considered reaching for the threads, weaving a spell with which to attack Keldren, but he realised that any magical duel would likely end in his own death. This was, after all, Keldren Dremos Enthrold, the finest Old Race mage of his generation and a legend amongst those who studied the art of sorcery. He supposed it was true what they said: you should never meet your heroes.
“I’m sorry, Keldren. Please, proceed.”
“See, dear boy? I knew that my trust had not been not misplaced. Now, let’s see if we can get our newest acquisition to sing, shall we?”
Later, Kelos was allowed to bring Emuel some food and water. Keldren had thoughtlessly left the eunuch bound to the table, and when the mage freed him, he was barely able to stand. Keldren hadn’t so much coaxed the boy to sing as torn the songs from him.