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

by Brian Kittrell

The dawn of the next morning flooded the room with nothing to stop it; the drapes still lay crumpled on the floor amidst the other items tossed from the night before. Laedron awoke to a squeezing of his hand.

  “Brice?” he asked, coming to his knees at the bedside. “How do you feel?”

  When Brice moaned and grumbled, Laedron's heart was enveloped with warmth and his face with a smile. “Wake up, brother.”

  Blinking a few times, Brice took Laedron in his gaze. “Lae?”

  “Yes!” Laedron said, unable to contain his excitement. “It's me, Lae.”

  “What happened to me? I hurt all over.”

  Laedron nodded. “Don't worry about that, you'll feel better soon enough.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “Taken,” Jurgen said, rolling onto his side to face them. “According to you.”

  Letting out a deep breath and stroking his forehead, Brice closed his eyes. “Yes, the coachman. He turned us in. Told the church about us.”

  “You needn't worry about him anymore,” Laedron said. “Why were you out?”

  “Marac said we needed to do our part, to pull our weight. He said we needed to scout out the cathedral for you, and since you'd been gone an hour already, we agreed.”

  Laedron bowed his head. “You should've stayed here, but no matter now, it can't be undone or changed. What happened next?”

  “We made our way through the streets and avoided the guard. So many patrols. We continued west and found the cathedral. Then the coachman shouted from behind us when a patrol approached.”

  “How did you make it out of there alive?” Laedron asked.

  “I ran and hid,” Brice said, a tear coming to his eye. “Like a coward. I don't deserve to be a knight, I let them all down.”

  “Forget that.” Laedron put a hand on his shoulder. “If you hadn't made it back, I would never have known.”

  “After a short fight, the guards took them into the church. Marac and Mikal didn’t have a chance without their weapons,” Brice said. “When I tried to make my escape, one of them saw me. I felt a sharp pain in my back, but I kept running. When I got outside of the inn, I pulled out the arrow. I shouldn't have done that, but I wanted it out of me.”

  Laedron rubbed the back of his neck. “Anything else we should know?”

  “No, that's it. I passed out and woke up this morning,” Brice said, reaching for his spine. “The wound, it's gone!”

  “I healed you of it,” Laedron said.

  “More than that,” Jurgen said, climbing out of the bed. “He brought you back to life.”

  “What?” Brice asked, a confounded expression on his face.

  Laedron shook his head. “No need to dally in the past.”

  “Is that true?”Laedron closed his eyes and nodded.

  “How can that be?”

  “I don't know. All I know is you're with me again. That's all that matters.”

  “No,” Jurgen said, squinting before donning his eyeglasses. “Something else matters.”

  Laedron turned to him. “What do you mean, priest?”

  Jurgen approached, then examined Laedron's head for a few moments.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Gray tips,” Jurgen said. “All over your hair. Better take a look in the mirror.”

  Laedron stood and walked to the mirror. He saw a reflection unlike what he remembered. In such a short time, his visage had changed. His eyes were the same color, but the person behind them seemed older, and the white at the end of each raven lock troubled him. His eyes carried discolored bags beneath them, and his forehead was weathered. He didn't see a boy of sixteen, anymore; what he saw in the mirror was the face of a man in his early twenties, but his hair made him feel even older.

  Touching his skin, he manipulated it as if he could repair the damage. “What has become of me?”

  “Is it the magic?” Brice struggled to sit up in the bed. “Is it my fault?”

  “No,” Jurgen said, turning to him. “It's no one's fault that this happened.”

  “The fault lies with me,” Laedron said. “Don't blame yourself.”

  The others stood in silence until Laedron spoke again. “No matter, it can't be helped. We must make a plan to get our friends back.”

  “The festival of the Southern Lights begins at dusk,” Jurgen said. “Everyone gathers in the cathedral to await the presiding priest.”

  “To have any hope of getting our friends back, we must attack before the ceremony,” Laedron said. “Are you on good terms with Gustav?”

  “As best as can be expected,” Jurgen replied.

  Laedron gazed at him. “And what do you mean by that?”

  “The Drakars are a recent addition to our church, but they were accepted quickly. No one had ever seen priests with such fervent devotion to Azura or such minds for administration. Though I was assured to be the next Grand Vicar by all the consuls, they brushed me aside when the Drakars came, and I was banished to the tiny church where you found me.”

  “Can you get us inside before the service?”

  “Yes, of course. Clergymen are expected to arrive early, anyway.”

  “Good,” Laedron said. “You and I will go in the afternoon, then.”

  “What about me?” Brice asked.

  Laedron turned to him. “You're staying here. After everything that's happened, you're in no condition to fight.”

  “You can't go it without me,” Brice said, climbing out of the bed. He fell to the floor, unable to support his own weight.

  “No,” Laedron said, helping him back to bed. “You need your rest. You're no good to me if you can't hold a sword.”

  Brice closed his eyes. “You're probably right. My whole body aches.”

  “I'll get us something to eat,” Jurgen said, opening the door. “Back in a blink.”

  When the door opened sometime later, Jurgen entered with a box in his arms. Laedron helped him unload the food, and he passed Brice a generous portion of each item. Discovering a parchment and quill in the bottom of the box, he turned to Jurgen. “What's this for?”

  “I can draw what I know of the cathedral. It shall help us make our plans.”

  They ate while Jurgen took turns between a cut of beef and mapping the structure. When he was finished, he held it up to the light for a better inspection.

  “Magnificent structure,” Laedron said, looking at the map.

  “Yes.” Jurgen returned it to the table. “Much like the other buildings in this city, the cathedral is partly built from outside materials and partly carved from the cliff face itself.”

  “Where would Gustav be?”

  Examining the map closely, Jurgen said, “The most likely place would be here, in this large antechamber. Its common purpose is that of an abbey for monks, but there hasn't been a cloistered order at this church for many years.”

  “Why not?”

  “When the Southern Lights became more known and drew larger crowds to see them, the cathedral became more visited. Monks require privacy so they may partake of their quiet reflections and studies. The vicar received complaints of constant visitors from the men, so they were moved to a more fitting, and more private, location.”

  Laedron nodded. “What's the best way to get in there?”

  “The church has but one face exposed to the outside world. Once inside, the clergy have access to tunnels and corridors leading around the perimeter of the structure. We should have no troubles.”

  Laedron searched the map for a moment. “And where would they keep my friends?”

  “Knowing what I do of Gustav, he'd want to keep them secure, but close,” Jurgen said, his finger tracing the antechamber. “Here, or perhaps here. Both are deep in the cathedral, and both have quick access from the deacon's quarters.”

  “Can we get to those rooms without first confronting the deacon?”

  “Of course,” Jurgen said. “They will likely be guarded, though. We must be careful.”

  Laedron b
owed. “Good, then we go when the sun wanes in the afternoon.”