The world as Indrid knew it suddenly turned upside down. He didn’t want to make the connections that he was making. But he was, and he couldn’t ignore them. Was everything a lie? Has Montague been deceiving us? His caretaker always pushed Indrid to read what he wanted him to read, directing his focus. Maybe, Indrid thought, he was hiding the truth by feeding him, Anna, and Rayne lies to compensate.
For years, Indrid believed that it was Montague’s intention to keep him away from Anna. And that bothered him most. At times it was infuriating.
Indrid felt an impetuous need to find him. He figured that if Montague wasn’t home, or in the castle kitchen, then he must be having tea in the courtyard. He hoped that his childhood guardian had a genuine explanation, but the kink in his stomach warned him otherwise. The general took two officers that he’d been acquainted with while visiting Apollo from the arena dungeons to assist him; men he could rely on. If Montague was involved with witchcraft he would be dangerous.
On the lush garden lawn, Indrid found Montague sitting on a blanket reading a journal. A few books and papers surrounded him. Indrid reminisced having tea here with him, Anna, and Rayne many times before. They’d come here after dinner in the summertime to relax and tell stories. The sentimental memory caused him to hesitate.
But he was the general now. He could not let his feelings dilute clear judgment. Montague had once told him this. And Indrid struggled as he realized how much the man he was about to arrest had taught him in his life. He swallowed his reservations, putting responsibility and civic duty before his personal relationship.
Indrid stood over Montague, blocking the sun. “I’m going to ask you something that I already asked you a long time ago, and you said it was of no importance, but this time I want an answer. Is Burton Lang alive, Montague? Have you been communicating with him?” he asked, holding up the letter.
“I’m sorry, young lord…I—”
Indrid bent to read the notes that were sprinkled about his surrounding area and saw a list of ingredients and lyrics on an open page of a book titled, The Magic of Sound. “What is this Monte? Are you studying up on your craft, the religion of mages?”
“General Cole…Please…I’m simply searching for a weakness within it.”
“Now I’m ‘general’ to you?” Indrid snapped. Monte always called him ‘lad’ or simply Indrid. Montague is trying to flatter me to avoid an interrogation. “Is he the wizard, the one that you knew?”
Montague was at a loss for words.
Indrid believed that Montague’s silence proved his guilt. “He is and you are his mage!” he said, stuttering as his emotions intensified. His heart broke. “I remember the old stories. I know what kind of devilry people like you can conjure. Bind his hands,” said the general to his guards.
“Indrid, please wait,” Montague cried.
Without turning back, “Bind them!” said Indrid. He couldn’t look Montague in the eyes.
The guards tied Montague’s hands and lifted him to his feet.
“Wait!” Anna Lott yelled, running towards them from a distance. On approach, her right foot hit a small stack of Montague’s books. One landed in front of her, face up called, A Wizard’s Guide.
“Take it! Page two hundred, sixty-four,” Montague said.
Indrid slapped it right out of Anna’s hand before she could lift it from the ground. “I don’t think so,” Indrid said.
“Please. It will explain everything I have been researching!” Montague said.
“Don’t touch it, he could have cursed it,” Indrid said. He turned to address his guards, “Take Montague to a cell in the dungeon.” It was the first time Indrid addressed him as Montague instead of Monte.
Anna shot him a livid expression. “What? Indrid!” she snapped.
“Now!” Indrid shouted, ignoring Anna’s concern.
Being taken away with bound hands, Montague turned back. “The Guide, read it!”
“Indrid!” Anna said again. She came up close to the general and kept her voice down. “The man practically raised us along with Gretchen. If he meant us any harm he could have done it years ago.”
Indrid wasn’t as soft spoken. “You saw him the night of the attacks at Rayne’s memorial stone. Are you telling me that you weren’t suspicious?”
“I wasn’t proposing that Montague was a mage! And you didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. So why now?”
“I found a letter to Montague from the exile, Burton Lang. Then, I thought about what you told me; the bloody fingerprint left on a letter, and that you thought you saw Montague at The Ponds on the night of the attacks. Blood is a sacred tool in witchcraft.”
“So this whole time Montague has been dealing with the enemy?” Anna asked with one brow raised. She obviously thought Indrid’s theory was far-fetched.
“Look. Montague taught us everything we know about the world. What if he has been telling us half-truths to distract us? What if he’s hiding the truth right out in the open, mixed with just the necessary amount of lies to sway our perception of who is good and who is evil?” Indrid said. Ironically, it was everything Montague had taught him.
“That’s crazy,” Anna said, breathing heavily.
“Is it?” Indrid asked. “What’s going on? Why are you out of breath?”
“I ran as fast as I could. The Colony of Cobb is coming,” Anna said. “And the cloaked man…” she paused to catch her breath. “It’s Rayne. He’s back. He told me that an army of five thousand mages are
