“I can’t remember the last time I was taken by surprise. That’s quite an ability you have there. Are small daggers and swords the only weapons you can summon?” The paladin leader asks me, interest and respect bleeding through his tone and questioning gaze. He reminds me a bit of Aydin, and I shove that memory away.
I’m a little taken aback by the paladin leader’s odd reaction to getting stabbed. He doesn’t even seem a little annoyed by it. Then again, maybe he’s used to it. I doubt you get to a position like the one he holds from playing it safe. Judging by the mapwork of scars scattered across his visible skin,used to itmight be a massive understatement. He continues to stare at me waiting for me to respond to his question.
“No,” I croak, swallowing down the pain from the damage to my throat.
I don’t answer his question in a friendly exchange of information or an effort at camaraderie. It’s a clear warning, and he gives me a nod that tells me he understands. Movement in my periphery sets me on edge, but when I realize it’s just Nash moving toward Paladin Ender, I relax again. Nash’s eyes flit back and forth between his leader and me in some kind of silent debate, before he finally focuses in on the head of the paladin.
“May I, sir?” he offers, reaching his hands toward the oozing wound on the older man’s shoulder.
Paladin Ender nods, and Nash knits his tan skin back together in less than a minute. The fit, white-haired man rolls his shoulder a couple of times and finding no issues, gives an appreciative nod to Nash. Nash moves toward me, and I flinch and automatically step back.
“It’s okay Vinna. He’s just going to heal you,” Elder Cleary tells me.
He speaks to me like I’m too stupid to understand what’s going on. His condescending tone chases away any calm Enoch’s efforts created, and I round on the elder.
“Fuck you. If you think I’m going to let any of you come near after what just happened...”
My voice is gritty but strong. I know I need healing, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let any of these assholes near me. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. In a mask of casual movement, I brush over the runes on my ring finger and hope the guys can get here soon. If the fucking elders think I pin this attack solely on Marilyn Manson then they’re bigger idiots than I thought.
“Vinna, please. There was no other way to know for sure. Putting you in a threatening situation was the best way to trigger what I suspected,” Marilyn Manson pleads, as he tries to bypass the circle of elders surrounding him and approach me. Part of me hopes they’ll let him through so I can have a clear shot at trying to rip his head off his body.
“And did you acquire the answers you sought?” Elder Kowka asks the caster.
“Yes. She’s without a doubt a mimic.”
“What the hell is that?” Enoch shouts, as he moves to stand near me.
I back away from him, and I don’t miss the flash of frustrated resignation in his eyes before he turns a narrowed gaze on his father.
“I’ve seen the use of weaker mimicry amongst rare casters, but nothing on this level; not outside of books and not for centuries,” Marilyn responds enthusiastically.
I could probably sink a throwing knife in his throat right now, but quick is not how I want this piece of shit to die.
Marilyn Manson continues with his explanation completely unfazed by my rage. “A mimic has a very rare ability to see or feelanykind of magic and then replicate it. Reader Tearson mentioned that she had underdeveloped Spell magic. But I would venture if Vinna worked on it with an experienced caster, she would be able to mimic their abilities and absorb a stronger affinity for that branch too.”
“So, trying to kill me answered your question how?” I seethe.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you. I was trying to see if you could replicate the level of magic that was being used against you.”
“You could have just asked me, you fucking psycho. I would have told you that I can see things and then do them. It’s not a trade secret or something I’d take to the grave. But again, you would know that if you fuckingaskedme.” I point to Marilyn. “You better watch yourself. If you ever come near me again, you’re not going to like what happens, and you better pray I never catch you alone.”
He looks instantly regretful, but he’ll learn the meaning of regret if he doesn’t take my warning seriously.
“Caster Sawyer is who we selected to tutor you,” Elder Balfour announces, wiping sweat from his partially bald head like somehow his statement should erase everything they just allowed to happen.
“Yeah, try again because that isn’t happening.”
“You have no reason to fear. You weren’t in any real danger, and you can rest assured that you are safe,” Elder Balfour continues, oblivious and condescending.
Without warning, I send a surge of Offensive magic out at Elder Balfour. I lace the magic with the same cast that Marilyn Manson just used on me. Elder Balfour starts to sputter, and then all sound is cut off as he begins to turn red; his arms are pinned to his side, and his fingers claw uselessly at his thighs. Elder Albrecht is the only one who reacts right away, and he throws something maroon and flashing at me. My shields burst open when the magic makes contact, and it fizzles out harmlessly. I let go of the magic choking Elder Balfour, and he immediately bends over wheezing and trying to fill his lungs again.
“How dare you attack an elder, you insolent little shit. I could have you put to death for that!” Elder Balfour spits out, between wheezing coughs.
“What? You’re telling me that you didn’t feel safe in that moment?” I tut condescendingly, my tone mirroring the one Elder Balfour was previously speaking to me with.Arrogant prick. “I can assure you that you weren’t in any danger and are perfectly safe.”
He glares murderously at me, but his wrath is quickly refocused when Elder Nypan starts to laugh.
“She has a point there, Phillip,” he tells Elder Balfour, before turning back to me. “You can trust us, Vinna. We are your elders after all.”
