The Blackguard (Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

from them,” Henrick said bluntly. “It would be a frightfully horrid death.” He smiled slightly at that thought. “I have only met two mages strong enough to do it, but the cost to them would be great, as well. Killing another with slow, deliberate intent is a warping of the gifts that magic offers. It warps the mage in a manner he cannot repair. You cannot kill another slowly and not twist something within yourself, Alador. Remember this: magic is not without cost regardless of its wonder and magnificence.” Henrick looked at his son with a seriousness he did not usually exhibit. He walked off, leaving Alador kneeling by that tuft of dead grass.
    Alador sat thinking beside that tuft of grass for a long while until he noticed his father waiting for him on the wagon seat. Henrick had a pipe out and looked like he’d been waiting for some time, so Alador struggled up and put the mug behind the seat. Neither of them said anything. He had been excited at the beginning of the day after he’d pulled the water to dampen the dirt for the first time, magic had been exciting and wondrous. As his father had made him do the same cantrip over and over again, Alador began to feel it as work, no easier than mining or woodcutting. The realization that magic was wondrous and required effort had only just occurred to him. The few enchanters and healers he had seen use magic seemed to do so with such ease that he had thought it an innate skill, as Tentret’s ability to draw or Dorien’s ability to mold metal into his desired object from only a description.
    Now, Henrick had taught him that magic was deadly. Alador had known it could be used to kill already; the tales of the Great War he’d grown up hearing made that clear enough. This was different though, just drawing the energy for magic could be deadly.
    Alador wanted to run to Gregor or Mesi and share everything that had happened today, but the thought reminded him once more of his losses. He lapsed once more into sullen thought while he sat, staring at the spiny backs of the korpen as they plodded along. The silence continued until Alador smelled smoke faintly in the air and saw its source in the distance. He looked over at Henrick in surprise; Alador hadn’t considered that they would pass by any villages. He should have, roads were supposed to connect the villages, but no one had passed them on the road thus far. Not that Alador was complaining…with so few travelers, it was unlikely that a word of him or his crime had reached any other village yet.
    “That is Oldmeadow. Nice place, for the most part,” Henrick mused. “They raise fowl and make a good apple mead. We will stop there for the night.” He kicked up the korpen a little; they’d slowed until they were barely moving. “Tonight, you are my apprentice. You will go by Al and nothing more. Understood?” Henrick looked over at him, the warning clear in his eyes. “I do not care to spoil my good name by toting about that I am prone to stealing fugitives from the noose.”
    Alador opened his mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut, swallowing hard and nodding. It wasn’t really a lie – Henrick was instructing him – and Alador didn’t want to be the one to bring the news that he had killed a man. He thought for a moment. “Anything special I should be doing as an apprentice?”
    “Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. A travelling enchanter is not always welcome and, as such, responds to the mood of the village. They should be in a fair mood, however, as last night was the circle.” Henrick looked over at Alador.
    Alador breath caught at his father’s words. Last night should have been his night of passage, the final step to becoming an adult. Alador had devastated the entire ritual when he’d killed Trelmar. He doubted anyone was in a fair mood at home.
    “Understood,” he answered quietly. He reminded himself that he hadn’t wanted the women in the village to choose him, anyway.  But the truth