Abaddon's Call

Chapter Thirty-Two

Nillon kept his head down and did his work. He was safely confident in saying that no knowledge in the library could be used to send him directly into Hell. There were a lot of things that could happen, a lot of destruction, but none of it could send a living body into Hell.

Only a mage who had gotten involved with Hell, sold their souls or something of that sort, could send themselves into Hell. Magi were said to be able to open doorways between the two realms, but if the library had ever contained that knowledge, the Seven had thoroughly scrubbed it.

A living mage in Hell was a toy for demons. A dead one could at least drift about, maybe find a place to hide, but not a living mage. They were bound to flesh and the laws of magic they had been taught. Unable to use Hell magic, they were just...

People.

People surrounded by demons and unable to die but able to feel everything that was done to them. Unable to hide even in madness.

Nillon shuddered for the third time that day.

It was the interment of his grandfather that had done it, he was sure.

After weeks of searching, it was discovered draconians had made off with the body, meaning to feed it to their young to imbue them with the strength of a mage. His grandfather was finally laid to rest among his ancestors, as was his right as Lord Salord.

Before that, Nillon had been content with his lot in life. Three children on the way, and all he had to do was research for the rest of his life. It wasn't really that bad. Lugh just wanted him to tell them what he found in his obsession with everything Hell based. They'd look after him and his. He'd never need to worry about anything, and Jasor was lord, so he had no familial obligations.

He was free, and he hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted that until Jasor was announced as lord and his unborn child as his heir. A weight had lifted from Nillon's shoulders. He came to enjoy his classes and his time in the library. Even the restrictions didn't seem so bad.

He was isolated, yes, but in that isolation, he found peace. When he felt lonely at all, he'd drift to the common rooms and listen for a few minutes until it got uncomfortable because of the whispers, then he'd return to his work.

Some nights were late, like that one. He felt like he was avoiding his bed but couldn't for the life of him recall why. When he finally dragged himself away, he left the main building through the main doors. If he cut across the lawns, the main door was closer to his dorm, so he often used that route when he worked late.

As his foot slipped off the last step, he felt a waft of warm air. He hesitated, frowned, and took another step forward to move away from the warm breeze. Yet, he stepped into a warmer air that felt still, as if surrounded by walls and a ceiling.

Magic flared to life, then spiralled around him. The iridescent shimmer reminded him of moonlight, which spoke of the skill of the mage who had made the spell.

Nillon hesitated, then slipped his hands into his pockets as Naena and Graydon slipped out of the shadows.

"I don't know how I've offended you, but you should take this to my lord," Nillon said.

"Why isn't he gone or dead?" Graydon asked.

"I don't know," Naena said.

"You don't know?"

"This is my first time, be gentle with me," she snapped back as she pulled a recipe book from her pocket.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Nillon demanded. "Do you know who owns me?"