The ship started into a gradual sense of acceleration. No doubt easing its way out of the harbor.

  Connor felt bitter, thinking about all the people he was leaving behind at the Syndicate’s mercy. Not by choice, of course. But that made it little better in his eyes.

  He focused on his meditation again, allowing that bitterness, anger, and shame to course through him and drain away from his mind. There was no room for such things on the path that lay ahead of him. Only calm, calculated decisions and using Victor’s training to its fullest.

  The ship continued picking up speed and a series of sharp turns changed into a far smoother, faster sense of travel. Connor had no doubt they’d left the harbor now and entered the open ocean.

  Sometime later, the lock in the door to the room clicked open, though Connor heard no rattle of keys. The door swung open with a heavy groan and the robed man entered the room. There was no key in the lock and he did not touch the door.

  The robed man stepped inside and it closed behind him as though by some unseen hand. Another click of the lock followed. Connor tried to keep his face impassive, his breathing steady in the meditative rhythm.

  Connor would’ve thought the man a wizard if not for the lack of anything to indicate he’d even used magic. No components. No words. Not even a gesture. Nothing.

  Perhaps that door has more sophisticated enchantments than I’d thought… but then why did the others use keys? Connor wondered. Everything kept getting stranger.

  The robed man had lightly tanned skin with sandy brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His brown eyes were sharp and carried a feral edge to them like some rangers Connor had met.

  It stood in stark contrast to the elegant crimson robes stretched over the man’s barrel chest.

  He walked with utter confidence as though he were the largest predator around. The metal strand of a necklace around his neck led into his robes, which hid whatever hung upon that chain from Connor’s eyes. Whatever it was, it looked expensive as the metal chain glittered gold in the light.

  The robed man smiled. It looked genuine and friendly.

  “What a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” he said, “my name is Erik Broaix. Please, call me Erik. I’m sorry about the delay. Last minute details had to be taken care of, I’m sure you understand? But, now that’s taken care of and we have a chance to talk. I see you’re already standing. I’d heard about that. I’m impressed, but I suppose I should’ve expected as much. How are the accommodations? Is everything acceptable?”

  The words and questions came fast, like a barrage. Erik seemed almost overwhelmed with excitement. His sparkling eyes only made his words seem even more genuine. It caught Connor off guard for a moment.

  “I expect I don’t need to introduce myself?” Connor asked.

  He wasn’t sure where to even begin with the rest of what Erik had said, and he watched Erik closely. Looking for any sign of deception. Something to show that this was an act.

  He saw none.

  “Oh, most definitely not,” said Erik, “I’ve been waiting to meet you for… well… a long while now. I wish we could do away with the bars and have a proper meeting on the deck with sun and sea air, but I can’t risk what you might do to my crew. Or to yourself.”

  But not to you? Connor thought.

  Connor studied the man. Vadik’s betrayal was still fresh in his mind, and he wondered if he were perhaps not as good at reading people as he’d thought. Still, the man seemed to mean every single word he said.

  Naturally, Connor didn’t trust him.

  Erik’s smile faltered as if disappointed to the point of being hurt by Connor’s lack of response.

  “Feel free to consume the orbs. That’s what they’re there for,” Erik said with a gesture at the doughy, glowing balls.

  Consume them? I thought they were lights. Soft so I wouldn’t use them as a weapon… Connor thought.

  “Consume them?” Connor asked. There was no point in hiding his ignorance. He finally had a chance to speak with a Syndicate operative. He had to get every piece of information he possibly could. An innocent question would be a good starting point.

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  “Yes,” Erik said as though confused by the question, “you know? Consume them? Drain them?”

  Connor looked at the orbs again and back at Erik.

  “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?” Erik asked, “Vadik said you didn’t use magic much but this… I never imagined this. How could this happen?”

  The more Erik spoke, the less sense he seemed to make and the use of Vadik’s name sent fresh waves of anger and hatred coursing through Connor. A strain on his meditative breathing.

  Erik raised a hand, extending it between the bars, palm up. “Give me one. I’ll show you,” he said.

  Connor picked up one of the doughy orbs and walked over to Erik’s outstretched palm.

  Connor marveled at how easy it would be to grab him. To pull him by the arm, smash his face into the metal, and then grab ahold of his head. But Erik had no keys that Connor could see. He had to be higher up the command chain than the sailors… would they open his cell if he had Erik hostage? If they did, how would he ever escape? Even if he made it above deck, there’d be nowhere to go.

  The harbor would be far enough now that they could just sail along beside him and fish him out if he tried to swim for it.

  But, more than that, something in Connor’s gut screamed at him that Erik was extremely dangerous.

  Connor placed the ball in Erik’s hand.

  Erik smiled. And pulled his hand and the orb back from the bars. “Watch closely,” he said.

  Erik looked at the glowing blue orb, focusing on it.

  Connor watched as ribbons of blue light spilled from the orb, winding, and twisting around Erik’s arm and flowing into his body.

  Magic… he’s draining magic. Connor thought with wide eyes.

  Erik’s eyes lit up with red light, pulsing like fire. He smiled as more magic flowed from the orb. Faster and faster. The orb shrank into nothing and vanished as the last of the phantom blue light flowed into him and was gone.

  The red glow in Erik’s eyes died down until they were brown once more. He gave a satisfied sigh. Like he’d just had a sip from a cool glass of water.

  I’ve never seen a wizard drain magic. Certainly not without so much as a single word of power… if I’d tried to use him as a hostage, I could easily be a wet smear on the floor right now. Or worse, Connor thought.

  “You try,” Erik said, “it shouldn’t be hard and the cell won’t object to you pulling magic into you. Just don’t try to wield it. Or to drain the cell itself.”

  “What happens if I do?” Connor asked.

  “Pain,” Erik said, “so, please don’t.”

  Erik spoke with compassion in his voice. It was unsettling.

  Connor picked up one of the glowing orbs and focused on it.

  “Pull it into you,” Erik said as though that was all the instruction Connor should need.

  Connor hesitated. What if this was part of The Syndicate’s plan to turn him? Some kind of magical drug perhaps? But, it hadn’t felt sinister and Erik didn’t look changed at all by taking it in.

  Connor decided to risk it. He had to learn everything he could about these people.

  He tried to do as Erik said. He pulled on his magic, trying to somehow use it to suck the magic from the orb inward. But, as always, it was like trying to wrestle a boulder.

  The tiniest trickle of blue magic, barely the size of a thin thread, flowed from the orb and into Connor. It felt energizing. It felt good. Incredibly good. Like quenching a thirst he didn’t know he had. But, it was so very little… droplets… like drinking through a clogged straw.

  “You can take in a bit more than that,” Erik said with a laugh, “no need to be shy.”

  Connor considered what he should risk telling this man. But, once again, his desire for knowledge won out. The Syndicate already seemed to know everything about him. What would it matter if he traded some small tidbits to encourage them to share what they knew? To reveal more of themselves?

  “I can’t,” Connor said, “this is as much as I can pull.”

  Just saying the words made him feel waves of disgust. He hated speaking to Erik as though he hadn’t been instrumental in destroying his life and enslaving everyone he cared about. Those they hadn’t killed at least.

  But only a fool gives up a chance at knowledge and Erik was more talkative than anyone in The Syndicate Connor had so far encountered. Let him speak and share all that he would. There might be something in his words that would prove to be The Syndicate’s downfall.

  Erik looked baffled and frowned as though he didn’t believe Connor. Then, his eyes widened. Perhaps seeing the strain Connor was under to pull just the small amount he had.

  “This is very strange,” Erik said, “you should be draining it faster than my slow demonstration. Is your magic truly as weak as Vadik said?”

  Every mention of that man’s name made Connor ache to drive a blade into Vadik’s heart. His meditative breath hitched, but he regained control and settled back into the rhythm. More cold, steely rage flowed into Connor’s gut with the rest. Fuel for the road ahead.

  “Yes,” Connor said.

  “There must be a reason,” Erik said with a knuckle against his bearded chin, “very strange. We’ll have to look into that.”

  “And why would you want to do that?” Connor asked.

  “Can’t leave you running around handicapped. That would be sick,” Erik said, appalled.

  Connor felt increasingly confused. Nothing about this situation made sense. Still, he resolved to get what answers he could.

  “Vadik took some of my blood. What was that for?” Connor asked.

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet. But, know that you are of great importance to us. Once we arrive at our destination, you will learn much. And you will understand what an honor it is that your blood should… well… you’ll find out in time,” Erik said.

  The near-religious glee with which Erik said the words disturbed Connor almost as much as the idea that the Syndicate had a vial of his blood.

  “So, where are you taking me?” Connor asked.

  “A secure facility,” Erik said.

  The way he emphasized the word ‘secure’ made Connor’s hair stand on end. He had the uncomfortable feeling that there might well be more than dark iron bars to keep him prisoner there…

  “Surely you can tell me more than that,” Connor said, “who am I going to tell?”

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