The Circle of Sorcerers: A Mages of Bloodmyr Novel: Book #1

by Brian Kittrell

  * * *

  Long into the night, they arrived at the roadside inn. The coach slowed to a stop in a wide, cobbled circle set off from the highway, and he saw the driver hop down from the front of the coach and walk alongside to open the door for them.

  “Thank you, driver,” Ismerelda said, extending her hand and stepping out of the cab.

  Exiting behind her, Laedron took the bags from the trunk, and she led him into the entry room of the large inn. Its sturdy, wooden construction was out of place; the structure had been built in a curve of the road which wasn’t noteworthy or particularly interesting. When they walked past the solid double doors, he saw straw overhanging the entryway from the roof like fingers luring and inviting any who approached.

  The great common room was unlike anything he had seen before. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, the crystal fixtures illuminated by the innumerable candles along its arms. Men and women dressed in strange, wondrous garments sat about the common room. He was busy trying to match their appearances with the stories his Ma had told him of foreign countries, but he was hard pressed to tell an Al’Qaran from a Gotlander, or an Almarian from a Sibelian. He could recognize the Sorbian businessmen and the Cael’brilans since they were common in his homeland, but he found it impossible to discern the origin of the others. To serve the patrons, several barmaids hustled through the cramped spaces, and Laedron found it impressive how they could maneuver the crowds with such speed while carrying trays laden with orders. The place was noisy, the crowd boisterous, and the smell of beer, liquor, and a variety of food blended into a scent both pleasant and offensive at the same time.

  They squeezed between customers to get to the bar. A plump man stood behind it with assorted stains on his blouse as he polished and dried a beer stein. “What can I get ya?”

  “A decent room and a meal taken to it,” she replied. “As quick as you can manage, too. We’re tired from the road.”

  The barkeep shook his head and grumbled, “Rooms're full, miss. Nothin' left.”

  She pulled a coin from her bodice and slid the gold sovereign across the counter. “Can you find one? We'd like to get some rest.”

  When he saw the gold piece, his eyes widened. He covered it with his hand and glanced around with a suspicious eye. “Aye, miss. We'll find ye somethin'.”

  She smiled as he whispered to a maid. Getting close enough to be heard without shouting, the barmaid walked around the counter next to Ismerelda. “This way, madam.”

  Laedron, dragging the bags on every step, followed Ismerelda and the maid up the stairs. At the end of the hallway, they finally arrived in front of a door which the maid unlocked with a brass key. Inside, he put the bags down near the stylish bed dominating the center of the room.

  “Enjoy your stay, folks,” the barmaid said, closing the door behind her.

  Looking at Ismerelda, he cleared his throat. “Um, there's just one bed here.”

  “We'll have to share it, I'm afraid. It's large enough to accommodate us both.”

  He pulled at his collar. “You don't find it awkward?”

  “Why would I? We'll only be sleeping. Compromises must be made on the road sometimes.”

  He dipped his head, his heart racing faster at the thought. Remembering the comments she had made during the Captivation training, he was tense about sharing a bed with Ismerelda. Her words had only served to bring his true feelings to the forefront. Her fit, youthful body and choice of clothing often dragged his mind into thoughts of intimacy, and he feared waking in the morning with his hands or face in a compromising position. He had no illusions about a relationship with her; he would never pursue his teacher, and he imagined she would have little to do with someone a hundredth of her age.

  “I'll sleep on the floor.”

  She eyed him for a moment. “What's wrong? The bed's much more comfortable.”

  He rubbed his neck as he felt his temperature and anxiety rising. “I'd feel better about it if I did.”

  Smiling, she put her hand on his shoulder. “Don't worry, Laedron. There's nothing to be nervous about. We'll simply be lying there asleep. All right?”

  His head dipped, and his eyes locked on the floor. “Yes, madam.”

  “I can't have you walking around with pains and aches from slumbering on the floor now, can I?”

  “I suppose not, madam.”

  He heard a knock on the door, and Ismerelda opened it. A different bar maid from before offered a makeshift wooden tray filled with a variety of food, and she tipped the servant a silver and took it.

  “The innkeeper is kind to have given us so much,” he said, looking over the platters.

  “’Tis hardly kindness. He was paid well.” After setting the food on the chest of drawers against the wall, she took the leanest plate of meat for herself.

  He made a sandwich from the rye slices and a cut of roast. They were quiet as they ate, both deeply involved in their own thoughts.

  He brushed his shirt clear of crumbs when he finished. “What's Morcaine like?”

  She finished chewing and swallowed. “It's quite a vast city, Laedron. The royal palace and its accompanying gardens lay in the center, surrounded by the seats of government and the nobles' homes. The common houses lay outstretched in every direction from there.”

  “And the academy?”

  She glanced at the ceiling as if picturing the school in her mind. “The spires reach into the sky, towering above the city below. Hundreds of sorcerers can be seen scurrying across the grounds before nightfall each day. It's certainly a spectacle, one that you'll undoubtedly witness tomorrow.”

  “We'll be there so soon?”

  “Oh, yes. We leave here at dawn, and a swift ride will bring us to the city by dark. I have a friend in Morcaine, Carlson, who operates a boarding house where we can stay. Are you ready for bed?”

  He swallowed deeply. “Not yet… Perhaps I could practice some of the spells you taught me on the ride?”

  “Very well,” she said, covering her mouth before she yawned. “Begin when you’re ready.”

  He stood and presented his wand. Though tired from the journey, he thought it best to delay. “Yes, madam.”

  Over the course of the next hour, he practiced and showed that he had remembered the things she had explained on the ride. He made himself float for a few moments before turning invisible, and then he invoked a beam of light that illuminated the room and made it too bright to see anything. He repeated the incantations until she was content with his performance.

  “Good, Laedron. You've taken to these basic spells very well indeed.”

  Smiling, he felt satisfaction and a sense of achievement building. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready for bed now?” she asked.

  He paused, trying to find a topic of conversation to ease his mind and his nerves. “What’s the Circle like?”

  “It's like any other large group, really—noisy, boisterous, and lacking any real usefulness.”

  “You don't have a high opinion of it, do you?” he asked, scratching his ear.

  Leaning against the backboard, she grinned. “You could tell? I have a low tolerance for inefficiency and bureaucracy, that's all. They waste time with words instead of taking action that might help someone.”

  He nodded as he climbed into the bed, still dressed in his clothes, and careful to preserve the space between them. “It sounds rather boring.”

  “Indeed.” She pulled the covers over her body, separating the thick comforter from the sheet. “It amazes me sometimes how so many can do so little.”

  “Yes, madam.” He remained above the covers, and she turned on her side.

  “Good night, Laedron.” The room grew dark when she extinguished the lantern.

  He turned on his side and faced away from her. The moon was full, casting a dull glow into the room. The twinkling stars reminded him of a story his mother used to tell him about the ancient wizards who came before, that they each occupied a special plac
e in the heavens to watch the people below. Over the years, he had realized those stories were nothing more than tales to be told, creations of wishful thinkers to entertain children and fools. Still, he felt he would give anything to hear those stories again. To hear those stories would mean he was back at home with his family, the troubles forgotten in the innocence of childhood and the peacefulness of the Reven’s Landing seaside he adored.

  Those days had passed, though; he was a man, charged with learning the arts of magic like his ancestors had before him. He was jealous of the simpler days enjoyed by Marac and his other friends where the most pressing matters were little more than deciding which bar to visit or maiden to woo. His feelings of danger and uneasiness persisted as well, the thought that mages might be hunted like wild animals already promised for an enormous feast. He wished he could stay in the relative safety of the inn forever and live out his days as a plain dishwasher or waiter for the weary patrons.

  He held onto those thoughts of an easier life until he slumbered, but the next morning came sooner than expected. He was roused from his dreams by the slamming of the door and the jingling of another platter of food.

  “Nothing special this morning, I'm afraid.” Ismerelda set the tray on her side of the bed. “A few biscuits, a couple of eggs, and some jellied fruit. It would seem this place isn't renowned for its morning meal.”

  He rubbed his eyes and yawned, averting his face from the sunbeams pouring through the nearby window. “What time is it?”

  “Just after dawn. We must get moving if we're to arrive before the first conclave.”

  He clambered to his feet and took a fried egg and a biscuit from the plate. “There's more than one conclave?”

  Nodding, she moved her luggage beside the door. “Yes. The Sorbian contingents must arrive on the first day since we are closest. The second day is more of a social affair with festivities and mingling, and the third is the great conclave where all circle sorcerers must appear.”

  “All of them?” he asked, straightening his clothes and eating the egg biscuit at the same time.

  “Yes. Well, all those who don't have matters too pressing to leave them unattended. Those who are too far away are excused, of course.”

  He was filled with anticipation and hope. “Will my ma be there?”

  She turned to him and paused before continuing with the baggage. “No, I'm afraid not. She's retired from the Circle's affairs and is no longer summoned for enclave.”

  He finished the last bite and helped her. “This all isn't as glamorous as I once thought.”

  She smiled. “Nothing is once you get into the grit of it. What once was new and interesting becomes another routine bogged with drudgery. It's always been that way.”

  “It's still exciting, but I'm afraid of what may come.” Hearing another knock on the door, he patted his hair to make sure it wasn’t wild and unkempt.

  “Don't worry, my boy. I requested a porter from the barmaid when she delivered breakfast.” She opened the door for the steward to carry their belongings to the coach. “Whatever will come will come. Only the Creator can see to the future.”

  They walked through the common room and followed the porter past the many guests sleeping off the festivities from the night before, seemingly wherever they had passed out. He shook his head at the thought of losing consciousness at a table only to resume when the liquor began to flow again.

  She looked back, watching him as he eyed the crowd. “It's a vicious cycle for some, as if they arrive at the inn only never to escape.”

  He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “They live like this?”

  “The simple pleasures of common folk with nothing better to do. What little money they have, they squander on their lively nights.”

  The steward opened the door and loaded the last of the bags into the rear trunk before helping Ismerelda into the cab. Once Laedron was inside, the driver slapped the reins, and the coach took off with a jolt.

  He watched Ismerelda while she stared out the window, a vacancy in her stare. Under any other circumstances, he would have taken the quiet as a sign to strike up a conversation and give in to his anxiety, but he sat in stillness. He found a strange sort of peace in the eventuality of knowing what was going to happen, even though most predictions ended in a war between the two powerful factions—the Heraldan church and the Circle of Sorcerers.

  After many hours had passed with no conversation, she finally turned to him and said, “We're close now. Our driver has made good time.”

  The coach continued climbing the hill until they felt it drive level at the crest, revealing in an instant the vast city beyond. His stomach turned with a volatile mixture of excitement and nervousness at the sight of towering spires, magnificent palaces, and the sprawling expanse of houses and buildings extending to either horizon. He had thought Westmarch was a large city when he first observed it. Surely, he thought, Morcaine must be the largest city in the world.

  “Morcaine, my boy,” she said, leaning forward to look out the window. “This is one place I could've never seen again and been happy.”

  Laedron rubbernecked, trying to catch a glimpse of anything he could see. “You don't like the city?”

  “It’s a spectacle to behold, that's certain. High-reaching spires and the whole achievements of a race can be found within their walls. The streets are always fraught with perils, though. Keep a stern eye on your belongings here, young man.”

  Chapter Eight

  A Spectacle to Behold