"No!" said Rennar, the word escaping him suddenly. He did not want to have anything else to do with the mages of Norvind. Emperor Thyurin had eyes everywhere. News of this incident would surely reach him.
"I mean...the wounded soldiers, my lord. Their wounds do not appear to be grave," he said, casting a look at the one of the two wounded who was now on his feet clutching his head. Gawain shook his head and sighed.
"As you shall have it. Again, I apologize for this mess. My apprentice will be adequately disciplined."
Rennar nodded, murmuring thanks. Mess indeed. Gawain made to walk. Rennar nearly fell off his feet. The apprentice's body was floating behind Gawain and following him. His soldiers busied themselves in clearing the crowd as commanded, while some of them started taking care of the dead soldiers.
"And Governor," said Gawain, turning back, "Thyurin shall know that this was my fault alone and you had nothing to do with this. You can put that out of your mind."
It was little relief for Rennar. When the emperor delegated a task, he did not wish to hear about it. Hopefully this would go unnoticed in light of Rennar's otherwise excellent work.
"Heh. Some spellcasting, eh? Four soldiers dead. Just like that."
Rennar turned around to see that Azrael was standing behind him. A wide grin on his face. It was all he could do to prevent himself from punching the young man's face in. Restraining himself, Rennar spoke.
"As you can see, my day has been very taxing. Now please. Do as I say and take up residence at Norvind. For now. I shall have a better room set up for you at Marduk. But until then, please do as I ask."
Azrael smiled and nodded. That smile made Rennar want to hit him again. This time with the shield lying at his feet.
Chapter 12
Gawain was sitting by Lorian's bed. It had been half a day since the disaster at the marketplace. Gawain had reached the mage tower and immediately had the mages put Lorian to bed. He should be waking up any time soon.
It was a complete mixture of emotions that he was feeling at this moment, concerning his new apprentice. All along the way to Bren, Lorian had been excited and inquisitive about the many things he hadn't seen before. But as soon as they entered Bren, he had become uncharacteristically silent. Gawain had noticed Lorian controlling his rage at what appeared to be injustices committed right in front of him. One moment he was silent, and the next he was standing at the center of the marketplace threatening two guards who were whipping a slave. In all that time, Gawain hadn't felt Lorian even remotely preparing himself to cast a spell. But he knew younger people and how often they let emotions get in the way of common sense, so Gawain had prepared his own spells to contain his apprentice in case things got out of hand. He had foreseen that Lorian would snap.
What he had not foreseen was how difficult Lorian would be to contain once he started casting. He thought he would have the situation well in hand, and had been preparing magical wards and barriers to stop Lorian while the latter was still exchanging heated words with the guards. But Lorian had simply torn through the protective barriers that Gawain had prepared to shield the guards. As if they were non-existent. He had to finally resort to the Lumen to control Lorian, but by then the damage had already been done.
Lorian had acted solely on his emotions. Warriors often claimed, as was true, that their emotions gave them strength. Anger gives a body speed, strength and the ability to endure pain far beyond one's limit. This was only partially true in the case of magic. Emotions did not enhance the ability of a person to cast spells. They merely allowed one to uncover the underlying potential. They often gave a glimpse into what a mage was capable of, even were he not under the influence of those emotions. A thoroughly disciplined mage who had reached the depth of his potential would not gain anything more under the influence of rage. Today he had seen with his own eyes how much Lorian was capable of. And once again thanked Thaugmir in his mind for being such a fool in letting go of Lorian.
With the Lumen, Gawain's strength by far exceed Lorian's. But without it, in the older schools of elemental magic, at the tender age of twenty, Lorian was already incredible. He might not have been on par with Gawain, but he was certainly better than several of the mages at Norvind. Even though he would need to somehow discipline Lorian for what happened, he could not help but feel elated at the prospect of teaching him. Here before him, finally, lay the perfect answer to his problems. In his long years, he had never seen such raw potential.
"So, this is your new apprentice I've heard about."
Gawain turned around to see Rhaen leaning against the doorway to the room. She was dressed in the same robes Gawain was, except hers were somehow...much neater and better looking. She was a more meticulous person than Gawain was. Her hood was thrown back to reveal auburn hair. She had been Gawain's chosen successor until a few years ago, when she incredibly told him she wished to study other aspects of magic and would rather not continue with the Lumen. They had disagreed and shouted at each other, as a father would with a daughter, but in the end, Gawain had to respect her wishes. His only condition was that she still remain a mage of Norvind. She was perfectly fine with that. There were several mages at the tower who researched other forms of magic. Besides, Rhaen had also started working on certain tasks for Gawain. Those of a more political nature. Gawain had sent her out on an errand a few days ago.
"My dear Rhaen. When did you get back?"
"Only yesterday, Master. I would have sent word ahead that I was arriving, but you rarely leave the castle these days. The only thing that surprised me more than the fact you left the castle is that you've come back with a new apprentice."
"I assure you, it was only good fortune that I found him. What exactly did you hear about him?" asked Gawain.
"The same thing everyone else has. That he flew into a fit of rage, murdering six—"
"Four. Not six," interrupted Gawain.
Rhaen nodded. She was now staring at Lorian lying on the bed.
"I also heard that you had some minor difficulty restraining him once he started."
Gawain laughed.
"As you can see, the situation is well in hand now."
"Still. He must be something if you had to call upon the Lumen to stop him."
Gawain nodded.
"That is true. But you know how it is," he replied. "He is simply raw talent. For his age, he is at a much more advanced stage than any I have seen. But you of all people know that talent alone is not enough. Especially when it comes to the Lumen. Even with years of hard work, some are never able to even feel it, let alone call upon it. He is a true spell caster. His instincts for magic are strong and his mind works quickly without breaking concentration. Had he not been so intent on hurting the guards, and instead directed his magic towards me, he could have resisted me longer..."
"Now that is an exaggeration," said Rhaen, laughing. "I would agree he is a good spell caster, but you cannot let your hopes for him cloud the truth."
Gawain nodded. There was a hint of truth in what Rhaen said. He had so desperately needed an apprentice that it might appear he was trying to play up how good Lorian was. He still had to be prepared for the worst. The Lumen would not come easy.
"So you intend to punish him?" she asked.
Gawain shook his head. He had almost forgotten what really happened back at the marketplace. Four soldiers were dead.
"I hadn't really thought about that," he said.
"You need to do what is right for him. You cannot ignore the fact that he killed four people and could have ended up killing more had you not intervened. Rennar and the islanders are here to stay. What's to stop him from murdering the next slaver he sees holding a whip?"
"That is true. Yet you cannot completely condone what Rennar and his men are—"
He was interrupted by Rhaen laughing.
"You turned a blind eye nineteen years ago when they invaded the southern kingdoms. I was there. I was your apprentice and I was pleading with you to do something. And now a
ll of a sudden, because your new apprentice slaughters some slavers, you try to justify his actions? What of Lord Doyen's appeals to you?"
Lord Doyen was the head of the council of the old nobles of Bren. He had approached Gawain many a time asking that he intervene in restraining the fist with which Rennar was crushing the old nobility and the people of Bren. He had always placated the lord in some way. Direct action was never a good choice. He knew that from experience.
"You know I am working against the Aegean Isles. Why else would I send you to Simea?" he asked with a small tone of anger in his voice.
"Your search for the one true King of Norvind? Well, you can forget about him. Artemis is far from being that. Aside from his blood relation to the late Kesseleth, he is not your man. He still pleads with the Rhial Knights to aid his cause and will spill the tale of his birthright and his plans for rebellion to any drunkard in need of a tale."
"And have any of the Rhial Knights agreed to help him?"
"As of a week ago? None. He has taken up residence with the family of one of the council knights. An older knight by the name of Keldorn. Well respected, but he has very little sway in the matters of the council. I think it's out of pity that Keldorn's family hosts Artemis. I doubt it will amount to anything at all. Your hope in him might be misplaced."
Gawain shook his head in disappointment. Artemis was a distant cousin to the late King Kesseleth and had shown much promise. The mage tower had closed its doors to the rest of Norvind hundreds of years ago, when the throne room discarded the kings as unworthy.
While the first keeper Iothen was the ruler of Norvind, the second keeper Cerevax had altered the structure to ensure that the keeper always worked with a king of the people. He had fundamentally altered the way Norvind- and thus the Lumen- functioned. Thankfully, the mages of Norvind were spared the troublesome task of choosing a king. Norvind's throne room took care of that task itself. As for the mages of Norvind- it was quite simple as far as rules went. The keeper was to only serve the man who sat upon the throne of Norvind. King or otherwise. Shortly before Gawain became keeper however, the throne room had closed itself to Kesseleth's ancestors, so his master - Amara - had proceeded to cut all but the most basic ties with the royal line that ruled Bren.
Gawain had been keeping track of all the people that became king over several hundred years, but none had been able to get the throne room to open it's doors. It was probably good that they couldn't - None of them were men of substance.
After Kesseleth's execution Gawain had finally found a man of principle in Artemis. He had been keeping a close eye on him since the Aegean conquest. Artemis had shown much resourcefulness in declaring himself the king.
He had evaded much of the Aegean army and fought his way towards the north. Bren had fallen, as had the nearby kingdom of Sulna. Only the third kingdom Belcrest still stood. Artemis had rallied the surviving troops from the two defeated kingdoms and joined Belcrest's forces. They had managed to make a stand for some time.
That was until Emperor Thyurin enlisted the aid of the nomads. Even Gawain was surprised at the effect the nomads had on the outcome. It didn't take long for Belcrest to fall. Artemis had disappeared for many years until a few months ago, when he launched a daring attack against Bren with the remnants of his forces. But he had struck too soon. Rennar had all but destroyed the rebel army and Artemis had escaped north. Gawain was disappointed at the loss, but he still decided to follow the man's progress. Artemis certainly had the qualities required of the rightful king. But it seems he had suffered one too many defeats.
"What is the general consensus among the north?"
"Regarding?" asked Rhaen.
"What else? The Aegean army fights to take hold of the Deckan plains right underneath them. I have heard stories of fortifications being built."
"It would take more than that to unite them. Sometimes I think the Rygan desert tribes are more rational and civilized when compared to the warring northern cities."
Gawain raised his eyebrows.
"They're doing nothing about it?" he asked.
"As of now, nothing. Although some people seem to be trying. The many councils and kings hardly consider the Aegeans a threat. Besides, it would take more than an Aegean invasion to get anyone from Gennsemar in a room with the Rhial Knights of Simea."
"Fools," said Gawain. Even though the kingdoms outnumbered the Aegeans, they wouldn't stand a chance. Not if they weren't unified. At this rate, the whole of Ryga would fall under Emperor Thyurin.
Many times, Gawain had considered that Thyurin might be the worthiest man to sit the throne at Norvind. It was to see for himself, to meet the man and speak with him, that Gawain had accepted his invite to a magnificent banquet. The man radiated power. Yet there was something about him that Gawain could not put his finger on. It was like he was hiding something important—his behavior during the meeting was so guarded and removed that Gawain was truly taken aback. A voice yelled out to him from within to not trust the man. For now, he chose to listen to that voice. Some of his sons were impressive as well. But they too had that same flaw Thyurin had. Even though it seemed to him sometimes that it might be poor judgment on his behalf, he chose to believe that Artemis was more likely to be the King of Bren than any of them.
"I still think you should keep an eye on Artemis."
"You can rest assured that I am. I have some people under my service there who will keep me informed."
Gawain nodded. There was much that needed to be done. Many plans that needed to be set in motion. He even had a role to play against Namoth. But nothing could be done unless there was a king in Norvind. The throne would pick the man itself.
"So," said Rhaen, "about his punishment…"
"I am still divided. I leave the matter to you. Do not be too harsh on him," he said. Rhaen nodded.
"Nothing severe. I know the guards probably deserved it. I've been tempted to do as much a few times myself," she said smiling. "Now that word of this incident has gotten out, the treatment of the slaves will probably get better. For a short while at least. Maybe some work in the kitchens or some mopping. The entire fourth level could use cleaning."
Gawain was pleased. Rhaen spoke again.
"You should still speak with him. Let him know how things stand here. And why it would be a bad idea for him to do something stupid like that again."
"I will. I will speak with him as soon as he wakes up."
Lorian was still unconscious.
"There is another thing," Rhaen said. "I think you should let me teach him."
"No!" protested Gawain. It wasn't that he didn't think Rhaen was qualified enough. Next to him, there was probably no one in the castle who knew the Lumen better. He had looked forward to the prospect of teaching Lorian and there was no way he would be deprived of it. Before he could protest further, Rhaen spoke again.
"Only for a while. You're not going to teach him the Lumen yet, are you? There is still much he needs to learn. The syllables, for instance. You want to sit and teach him a new language? I recall that being the most distasteful part for you."
"Well, I don't see how—"
"And," continued Rhaen cutting him short, "I still feel that you might have your judgment clouded when it comes to this boy. I think letting me teach him for some time would be good for the both of us. I can see for myself if he is everything you hope for. And it will reassure you as well. I am sure you have your own doubts."
Gawain had none. But then again, that was part of the problem. He was uncomfortable because Rhaen just might be right. He decided to let her teach him in the beginning.
"All right. But on one condition. Only the syllables. You will not—I repeat, not—take him into the simulacrum."
He could see Rhaen try to suppress a smile, but it still showed on her face. Gawain loved taking his apprentices to the simulacrum...and showing them the true nature of the Lumen. It was worth it simply to see the expressions their faces.
"Very well. I will no
t rob an old man of his simple pleasures," said Rhaen.
Chapter 13
Of the thirty-two islands comprising the Aegean Isles, none deserved the title of 'underbelly' more than Archon. Archon thrived on the things that were outlawed in the most of the other islands. The black-market trade of drugs, fenced goods, magical artifacts and items of a nature such as would be forbidden on other islands. Sure, there were whorehouses in some of the other islands as well. There was crime there too. But if you wanted something and it couldn't be found in any other island, chances were you could find it in Archon. For a price.
In a way, Archon was the opposite of Ithaca, the pride of the Aegean Isles—a model city where only the richest nobles, merchants, high-ranking military officers and government officials could afford to live. Unlike Ithaca, Archon took in everyone and everything. Most other islands were a mix of the noble and the unsavory.
It was in Archon, on the rooftop of a nondescript house that nine-year-old Riven was lying on his belly. His head craned just enough to catch a view of the alley below him. Standing at its center now was Toskk, Riven's older brother. Toskk had forbidden Riven from following him. Riven usually disobeyed and was chastised for it later with some harsh words and maybe a sound beating. If Riven followed Toskk at all, it was only for fun. A few times, Toskk hadn't even known that Riven was following him. Riven either used the sewers or the rooftops. He had keen sight and an excellent memory. And he knew how to make best use of them. He was quick on his feet and dressed like any other urchin on the streets, so blending in was never a problem.
But this time, his brother had taken exceptional care to lose him. He had covered his tracks pretty well, but no one could ever lose Riven. He smiled as he thought about how he had correctly guessed the directions his brother had taken through the crowded streets.
Riven touched the hilt of the dagger he had hidden beneath his shirt. It was held in place by his belt and pressed against his stomach as he continued to watch the alley. He would never bring the dagger with him on an ordinary day. He found the dagger in the belt of a dead man's body in an alley by his house. The other children had been too scared to go near it because of the stench. More so because the body had a distinct red silk scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. The mark of the Black Raven thieves' guild.
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