The Traitor God (The Age of Tyranny) by Cameron Johnston

Author:Cameron Johnston [Johnston, Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: god-killer, Epic Fantasy, Angry Robot, grimdark
Publisher: Watkins Media
Published: 2018-06-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

I drifted in and out of consciousness, living more in dream than reality. Every so often I woke in agony, followed by a vague sensation of soup being spooned down my throat before something sweet and sticky was squirted into my mouth, flinging me back into the dream…

“Stop fidgeting, boy.”

When the Archmagus tells me to stay still, I dare not even blink – even if he does have my eyelid peeled back and is blinding me with a candle held in front of my eye. He goes through the same checks and tests again and again, every day. It is tedious. At least the beeswax candles favoured by the Archmagus fill his chambers with the delicate scent of honey rather than the reeking incense used elsewhere in the Collegiate.

“Move your eyes from side to side again,” he orders.

I look back and forth across his personal quarters while sinister animal heads mounted on the walls stare back at me with glassy eyes. His rooms are packed with an assortment of intriguing mechanisms and bubbling vials and tubes that beg to be poked and prodded. His possessions are obsessively orderly and despite the amount packed into the room everything has its set place; I suspect that his servants live in mortal fear of moving something when cleaning. It is cold in the Archmagus’ rooms and all I want to do is huddle next to the hearth and savour the warmth and the light – especially the light. It has been weeks since I was carried from the Boneyards, but I still can’t be alone at night without a candle by my bedside, and even then I only manage to sleep thanks to exhaustion. The nightmares are relentless.

My eyelid slaps back against my eye. I reach up and rub the tears away, multi-coloured wisps dancing across my vision. Byzant strokes his beard, deep in thought. I stay put, keep my eyes down and hope that he is finally done with me. I say nothing, fearful I won’t speak properly to the Archmagus and get punished, even thought he has only ever been considerate towards me.

“Has the fever abated?” he says, concerned, his hand cold against my forehead.

“Yes, Archmagus. Over a week ago.”

“Eating well?”

My face twists. “Mistress Sellars makes sure that I eat nothing but stin… uh… healthy foods.”

“Mmm, good, good,” he replies, distracted. Eventually he lifts up my chin with a liver-spotted hand. “Try once more. What am I thinking of?”

I swallow and stare into his eyes, take a deep breath and concentrate on opening my Gift, reaching out to him. For a moment everything seems to go fuzzy and I feel lightheaded, but that’s all. I try again, and all I get is a headache.

After a while the Archmagus sighs and shakes his head. I couldn’t manipulate fire, water, earth or air, and now this, whatever it is. I’ve disappointed him yet again. I’m useless. He strokes his beard, great emerald ring glinting in the firelight. “That is enough for today, young Edrin.

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