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

by Brian Kittrell

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  The next day, Laedron gathered with all of the recent graduates, mages and knights alike, in the great hall over breakfast and conversation. Meklan and Victor sat at the great table toward the end of the hall. When everyone finished breakfast, both stood and walked around the table.

  “Another dawn has shone upon us in this keep,” Meklan said. “We have raised a fine force to add to our number over the past weeks, and it has come time to send you forth to do the good works of our order.”

  Victor folded his hands and rose. “Each of you has a task to perform, which your sorcerer will receive in the form of a scroll. Many members of our order fight on the battlefield, but your work is different, and you shall find how different it is in due time.”

  Meklan took over again. “That said, we shall hand out the scrolls and some money. These coins are both your pay and your expenses for travel. Send your sorcerer forward to get them, then you may go.”

  The sorcerers went to the table in turn, each taking a scroll and a pouch of gold, then leaving with their knights. When Laedron approached, Meklan pulled a very large sack of gold from the floor. A small fortune of coins bulged through the thin cloth bag, and the scroll appeared thicker than the others.

  “You don't mean for us to burn the city of Azura do you?” Laedron asked, eying the bag and parchment.

  “Only if you could, young man,” Victor said, a smile gracing his otherwise ragged face. “Your task is a grave one, but not quite that extraordinary. If you should succeed and have need of friends, remember this: the golden chalice overflows.”

  Laedron bowed, then hoisted the sack over his shoulder and took the scroll. Marac and the others joined him halfway to the door, and Marac eased his burden by taking the sack.

  “Do they mean for us to purchase an army with this sum?” Marac asked.

  “I don't know. We'll have to read the scroll to find out,” Laedron said. “Let's get going.”

  “But where? The tavern?” Marac asked, rubbing his belly. “I could use another drink, I suppose.”

  Laedron shook his head. “No, somewhere private. We don't want others knowing of this, whatever it is.”

  “I know a place,” Brice said, opening the door. “I'll lead the way.”

  After a short walk, they arrived at the Westmarch archive library. They proceeded through the rows of books and scrolls to a private room, and Brice closed the door behind them.

  “How did you know of this place?” Marac asked, glancing at the shelves filled with old tomes.

  Brice smiled. “You seek your pleasure in women and drink. I seek mine in the written word.”

  “Good to know I'm not the only one who reads,” Laedron said, elbowing Marac.

  “Hey, I know how to read.” Marac swatted Laedron's arm. “It's just I don't do it for pleasure.”

  Sitting around the table, they eagerly watched Laedron unfurl the scroll and read over the words.

  The others remained silent until Marac blurted, “What's it say?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Laedron said, seeing the frustration and curiosity written all over Marac’s face. “We're to track down and eliminate a priest. Gustav Drakar.”

  “Drakar? As in Andolis Drakar, the Grand Vicar?” Marac tugged at his collar.

  “I suppose so. This is his brother, apparently,” Laedron said, nodding as he looked over the parchment.

  Marac stood and paced back and forth, waving his hands. “I don't like it. I didn't join to go on a suicide mission.”

  “That's our mission.” Turning, Laedron glared at Marac. “I don't like it, either, but that's what we're assigned to do.”

  “Insanity.” Mikal shook his head. “There's no way we can succeed at this.”

  “They've given us precise instructions,” Laedron said. “Journey to Balfan, meet with our contact Jurgen, and proceed to kill Gustav Drakar. Maybe this contact of theirs has a plan.”

  “Maybe he's just there to point him out and say, 'Enjoy,'” Marac said. “Maybe we should give the money back and get back to our lives.”

  Laedron blinked from the shock and raised his voice. “And then what? Be pressed into the army and serve on the front lines? It’s still better than being thrown against the infantry lines, yes? We can do this, Marac. We'll have plenty of time to plan things on the journey.”

  Marac stared at Laedron. “Impossible.”

  “No, Marac, not impossible. I'll put a finer point on it: we will succeed.”

  Marac conceded with a shrug and a sigh. “Very well, Lae. I'll follow you out of friendship.”

  “Not only that. Out of love for Sorbia, for loyalty to your king, and to avenge the wrongs done to us,” Laedron said. “The Heraldan church is powerful, but we must prove it isn't invincible through the courage of our hearts, friend.”

  Marac nodded. “I don't understand why we must go straight to the top, though. Such a thing is dangerous, probably too risky for the likes of us.”

  “Because of the injury it will inflict,” Laedron said, placing his hands on the table and leaning toward Marac. “Killing Gustav is but the prick of a needlepoint, but it will be straight through their heart. That is why we must do this.”

  “He's right, Marac,” Mikal said, dipping his head in agreement. “We swore an oath, and we must abide it.”

  Marac bobbed his head quickly. “To the theocracy, then. I've always wanted to visit the place it all began, you know?”

  “I know,” Laedron said. “I've wanted to see it for myself, although for a different reason.”

  “And what reason is that?” Marac asked.

  “To see the land where man first beheld magic and embraced it. They've always intrigued me, the early stories of magic and the first contact with the Uxidin.”

  “Uxidin?” Mikal asked.

  “I'll explain it on the journey. We'll have plenty of time to talk, I imagine.”

  “All right, then,” Marac said. “I should think we need to get a good rest before we get on with the rest of it. The tavern we went to last night has rooms for rent if you want to stay there.”

  “Sounds fitting to me,” Laedron said. “Do they serve food there in the mornings?”

  “Do they?” Marac said, grabbing his belly with a grand smile crossing his face. “I'd often loaf about there to enjoy a plate of eggs and sausage when I wouldn't be missed at the castle.”

  “Even better,” Laedron said, leading the way from the private room. They walked to the tavern, and following an exchange of coin for a key, they were upstairs in their own room.

  “How do they think we'll make it all the way to the theocracy lands?” Marac asked. “That's thousands of miles and two seas away.”

  “By boat, I'd say,” Brice said. “Probably the quickest way across the sea.”

  Marac stared at Brice, his contempt showing through a frown. “No need to be smart, thimble.”

  “No need to be nasty,” Laedron said, putting his hand between the two of them. “He's right, and we'll likely have to go to Morcaine to find one.”

  “Fine,” Marac said. “We'll figure it out in the morning. I'm going to get some sleep.”

  “Sounds like a good idea for all of us.” Laedron stretched his back. “After everything that's happened, I could use a rest.”

  Tormented by his dreams, Laedron woke several times throughout the night, but he was careful not to wake the others. The only noise he made was his heavy breathing, a result of seeing the spear pierce Ismerelda's side over and over again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Laedron and his Knights