Chapter 173: Statistically, All Mages Explode

Nicholas Shadowfell had made a lot of questionable decisions in his life. Sailing across an ocean for another man’s wife was bold. Marking her while she was clinically dead was bolder. Hiring a questionable mage Kael Ashenvale had hired and fired multiple times and a mage Kael once held at bladepoint during a siege because he fucked up the wards? That one took the fucking cake and then set it on fire.

"Alpha Shadowfell." Brennan swept into a bow. "I accept. I accept with my whole chest. I accept with enthusiasm that should concern everyone in this room. You will not regret this. Others might. Bystanders, possibly. But not you."

"I already regret this," Damon muttered from Nicholas’s right.

"Beta Tavian." Brennan straightened and offered his hand. Damon stared at it like it was a surprise marriage proposal from his crazy ex. He did not shake it. Brennan retracted the hand without losing a single degree of enthusiasm. "Understood. Trust is earned. I will earn it. Starting now."

"You can start by telling us why your coat is smoking," Damon said.

Brennan looked down at the suspicious grey smoke curling out of his coat pocket.

"Ward anchor residue. It’s a reaction to wards incorrectly configured, especially ones at high altitudes. Your Keep’s wards will need to be looked at." He smiled. "But the view is stunning."

"We don’t have wards," Nicholas said.

"Exactly what I meant." Brennan spread his arms. "Where would you like me to begin?"

Nicholas looked at Damon. Damon looked at Nicholas. The shared look carried a full silent conversation, summarized as this: We are so dead it’s not even funny... okay it’s a little funny.

✦✦✦

"A simple containment ward," Brennan announced. "Textbook configuration. Nothing in, nothing out. I’ve done this approximately three hundred times. Conservatively."

"Conservatively," Damon repeated, arms crossed.

Four lines of blue light connected the anchor stones, forming a glowing square on the courtyard. Inside the perimeter, the air shimmered with containment energy.

"There," Brennan said, gesturing with obvious pride. "Sealed. Contained. Nothing crosses that boundary without my—"

An anchor stone popped, followed by it catching fire. Not magic. A regular fucking fire.

"That’s fine," Brennan said, moving towards it. "Minor environmental variable. I’ll just—"

He channeled a burst of containment magic at the fire.

The courtyard gate slammed shut with a clang that echoed off every wall in the Keep.

Nicholas looked at the closed gate. Looked at Brennan. Looked at Damon, who was on the other side of the gate, separated from them by iron bars.

"That was the security demo," Brennan explained. "As you can see, nothing gets in or out. Including us. Give me a moment."

"Take your time. I’ll be out here," Damon called from the other side of the gate. His arms had been crossed since Brennan showed up and they weren’t uncrossing until the man cast one spell that didn’t need a ’my bad’ follow-up.

Another ward caught on fire at that moment. The timing was unfortunate.

The moment lasted four minutes. Four minutes of Nicholas standing in his own courtyard, locked in by his own mage, while his Beta stood on the other side of the gate looking at him with an expression that said ’ we fucked up on this one ’ in twelve different languages.

The gate swung open.

"Normally that doesn’t happen."

"Which part?" Nicholas asked.

"Any of it. All of it. The fire was an outlier. I’ll adjust for that going forward."

"You’ll adjust for fire."

"I’m very adaptive, Alpha. It’s on my resume."

Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind him, one of the guards leaned towards the guard beside him and whispered, "Twenty silver says he blows something up before sundown." The other guard shook his head. "He already blew something up. I want the over-under on how many fires before he’s actually fired."

✦✦✦

"One in four," Brennan explained, holding up a finger. "Statistically, for every mage, one in four spells produces a minor detonation."

"For every mage," Nicholas repeated flatly.

Brennan gave an eager nod. "Oh yes. You would be surprised, Alpha."

Nicholas dragged a hand down his face. "How do we get that to zero?"

"The ratio improves when I’ve eaten and slept," Brennan replied. "I haven’t done either since yesterday."

Damon sent a servant to the kitchens.

The next spell, performed after two rolls and a chunk of cheese, produced no explosion. Brennan looked at his own hands with genuine surprise.

"Food. That was the cure," Damon said in disbelief.

Nicholas made a decision. The mage was a disaster. The mage was also the only mage available. The mage would be fed three meals a day, supervised at all times, and given the benefit of the doubt that the explosions were anxiety because it was his first day on the job and would diminish with adequate nutrition and stable housing.

This was either wisdom or delusion, and Nicholas was comfortable with the uncertainty.

"Get settled," he told Brennan. "You have quarters in the east wing. Nice view included. We’ll reconvene in a few hours."

Brennan’s face did something complicated at the word view . The emotion that crossed it was, against all odds, gratitude, and it was so sincere that Nicholas briefly regretted every cynical thought he’d had in the last two hours.

"Thank you, Alpha. You won’t regret this."

"You’ve said that."

"I’ll keep saying it until one of us believes it."

✦✦✦

"Simple demonstration," Damon told Brennan as they walked. "Do a fake magic trick and call it magic. I don’t care. Something that doesn’t explode, catch fire, seal any exits, or require me to explain to a room full of seventy-year-old men why the floor is smoking."

"Understood," Brennan said. "Clean. Easy. No explosions. No wards. The goal here is to show old people that magic isn’t all bad."

"Correct. Can you do that?"

"Absolutely." He paused. "Probably."

"Brennan."

"Yes. Yes, I can do that. Consider it done."

They walked in silence for ten paces. Then Brennan, unprompted, started talking, because he treated silence the way nature treated vacuums.

"You know, your Alpha reminds me of Ashenvale in some ways. Kael Ashenvale. Have you met him?"

"I was in the throne room with you and him," Damon replied, in a tone that communicated the meeting had been memorable and he was choosing to say nothing further about it.

Brennan did not pick up on the hint.

"Brilliant man. Terrifying," he continued, just as they arrived at the double doors of the elder hall.

Brennan followed Damon inside.

Twelve Shadowfell elders sat at a half-moon shaped table.

Nicholas took his seat at the center. Damon stood at his right shoulder.

"Elders," he said. "Brennan has been kind enough to show us a magic demonstration."

Brennan stepped forward, clasped his hands behind his back and paced the front of the room with the calm confidence of a Master Mage asserting his authority.

"Magic," he began, "is your friend."

He let that sit. Eye contact with every elder.

They leaned forward.

"Dangerous?" he continued. "Yes. In the wrong hands? Absolutely. Catastrophic, even. Cities leveled. Bloodlines erased. Very bad stuff. Very scary. BUT." He held up one finger. "Also capable of miracles. MIRACLES, ladies and gentlemen."

Nicholas gave Damon a pointed look that said, I thought you briefed him on what to do.

Damon’s eyes returned the look saying, I did. Relax, he’s got this.