by Mark August
“Your chains…”
Cormac stood as straight as he could. His hands were open with his palms toward the young man in supplication. His eyes held no regret for his action, but his face begged for understanding. He knew he was beyond redemption.
“Yes, the chains are a product of that magic. With the help of Attius Atros, I continued my magical exploration. By destroying a soul, I forced the arcane power into these chains.”
Kincaid stepped away from the iron bars and backed to the wall. He needed as much space as he could from the words Magi Cormac was confessing.
“You can extend your life and increase your power by using the souls of other wizards for your own.”
Kincaid shook his head from side to side and tried to understand the implications of what Cormac was doing all these years.
“How many?”
“More than I can remember. The first is difficult, but I had a good reason to justify the cost. I was close to learning—”
“Stop. This should die with you.”
“Until I met you, Kincaid, I would have agreed.”
“What makes me different?” Kincaid winced with asking the question. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his stomach churned with acid. He questioned himself. To understand. To escape.
“Your visions of the future in the way the arcane plane responds to you.”
“I don’t want any of this.”
“I understand. You need to.”
Fifty-Three
Vedette - Inn
Vedette sat alone in the sea of humanity. The Broken Oar Tavern hummed with life and sounds as workers left the burdens of their day behind. People jostled one another for food, drink, and company. They lived each moment of their life as if tomorrow didn’t matter. They didn’t have to carry the burden of power.
Darkness encroached the booths; the eternal struggle of light and dark played out with the candles' flickering lights at each table. No one approached the sorceratti.
Strong ale bubbled in a mostly clean wooden mug. The froth was undisturbed, and Vedette couldn’t find solace in the murky depths of the foamy drink. Fatigue plagued her soul. Her body longed for sleep. Magi Cormac taught her there were secrets of magic she would uncover. As she reached for the handle of the mug, wrinkles and an age spot caught her eye. Vedette was years away from twenty and the youngest in a healthy family with access to the best care.
“I’ve never seen anyone so alone in a bar full of people.”
Vedette couldn’t hide the scorn on her face. She’d rejected several suitors already, and she wasn’t in the mood for another male seeking her companionship. The pickup line was terrible until she saw who it was.
Her brother looked amazing even when he was away from the ruling family halls. His shirt was tailored for his warrior figure, but the drab colors absent the royal symbols blended into the environment. His boots were scuffed from stirrups and trips to the training grounds. The worn look fit this inn.
The blade hanging from his belt set him apart from the other patrons. The laws were clear on the carry of weapons, and only nobles or guards held the privilege. Giomar was confident in himself, and he was unconcerned with the occasional glances in his direction. His eyes were only on his sister.
“Are you going to let me sit down, or are you planning on treating me like every other person near you tonight?”
“How long have you been here?”
“With all your powers, you didn’t sense your older brother near the bar?”
“Maybe I didn’t care.”
“You should.”
“How long were you there?” He had a way of making Vedette’s stern composure melt.
Her brother flashed her his crooked smile. The dimples on his face were enough to make a woman swoon. “Over an hour, Vedette.”
Laughter warmed her soul. She couldn’t remember a time when the weight of her powers relinquished the grasp on her soul. “Nobility and trained in the arts of espionage. I must be a lucky sister.”
“You know, I even had enough time to get a meal in. The food is terrible, by the way. Why did you pick this place?”
She pulled on her ale and gestured with her free hand for her brother to sit down. The ale suddenly tasted better, and she signaled for two more. Giomar adjusted his blade on his belt to sit in the chairs at the booth. He lowered his weight into the creaky seat and found the pommel crushing his ribs. He undid the belt and placed the blade against the wall. No one would approach this table now.
“Two reasons. It’s not father’s district, and I thought no one would look for me here.”
The beers arrived, and Vedette overpaid the server for the drinks. The flash of a silver coin disappeared. Part of the tip was for silence.
“The first is true, but the second isn’t. I was worried about you.”
“Not our parents?”
“You’re silly. They are.” Giomar’s face wrinkled as he tried the beer. He placed the misshaped mug down and pushed it off to the side.
“Am I? I’m being left out of every major decision. I’m the one who was attacked, and I have to deal with the magic.”
“Who do you think asked me to follow you?”
“How many bodyguards did you bring?”
“None. Our parents assumed you’d stay in our district. They’d be able to keep an eye on you that way.” He buried his smile with another try of the ale. “Well, it’s better than the food.”
“I almost started a war today.”
Giomar’s face dropped the humor and assumed the steely gaze of a ruler. Vedette regretted changing the subject when she needed someone who would listen rather than solve problems for her.
“If we expected a conflict, I would’ve led a company of soldiers to secure the building and get you out of here. We aren’t expecting a war, Vedette.”
“That doesn’t change what I tried to do. I was ready to fight the other houses. All of them.”
“But that didn’t happen, Vedette.”
“Only because Magi Cormac prevented it.”
“Do you think that might be why our father kept him locked up?”
“What?”
“Think about it. Why imprison the city’s most powerful wizard? A magi?”
“To gain an advantage and to prepare for the unknown.” Vedette had to admit her brother could surprise her. He smiled and scanned the room for people moving to overhear their discussion. His posture relaxed, and he went back to his beverage. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Vedette said.
“The sorceratti of every family is the youngest member. That’s been the agreement between the Houses before you or I were born. From what I’ve seen, these sorceratti, and that means you, are also the most powerful people in the city. However, power doesn’t bring wisdom. That’s something we both have to work on.”
The warmth of the company and the ale in her belly settled in her bones. The fatigue that plagued her for days ebbed, and she felt a spark of energy in her heart.
“I don’t want to let you down, Giomar. But I keep ending up in dangerous engagements because Father doesn’t share what I need to know.”
“He’s in over his head. For all his planning and scheming, we are worse off than ever before. That scares him.”
“Does it scare you?”
The future leader of House Atros leaned back from the rough table and rocked back in his seat.
“Yes. I already think it’ll take our entire generation to correct the course we’re on. And I don’t have our father’s talents to plan.”
“I don’t think the magical forces will allow us a generation to solve anything.”
“Nonsense. And we have a powerful sorceratti in our midst. Let’s not forget every sorceratti in the city showed up to confront you.”
Vedette laughed again, and she didn’t suppress her grin. “They did, didn’t they.”
“We need you to come home and be with us. We need you to protect our family.”
Fifty-Four
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Kincaid - The Price of a Soul
“I won’t make this choice.” Kincaid paced the walls of his cell. Dark thoughts rumbled in his mind.
“Not making a choice is still a choice, Kincaid.”
“Magi Cormac, I appreciate the lesson in philosophy. But I can’t take your soul to fuel my magic.”
“You don’t understand what they’ll do. You will run out of choices, Kincaid. And the consequences will keep getting worse.”
Kincaid sat down with his hands in his lap. The straw was itchy, and he imagined the creatures taking residence in his clothing. He missed the days of warm baths and the freedom to enjoy good food and drink with friends and companions. Kincaid shook his head.
“There has to be another way.”
“That may be true, but we haven’t come up with it yet.” Cormac paused and watched the young man. “Why is this so hard for you?”
“The faces of those thugs haunt me in my darkest dreams. Taking a soul is worse.”
“You will be a great Magi.”
Anger flashed across Kincaid’s face. He attempted to unclench his fists and slow his heartbeat. “I don’t want to be you.”
Those words were a gunshot in the room. Kincaid imagined they might be a mortal blow for the chained wizard. Cormac’s eyes fell back to the dirty floor. Kincaid didn’t regret his confrontation with the magi.
“Don’t be me.” The words carried across the distance even in his whisper. He continued, “Be you.”
Kincaid’s mouth tried to form words, but the anger in his heart disappeared. Those simple words were a mirror to his soul.
“When I was a carpenter, I thought I knew who I was. Magic changed everything. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“Kincaid, no one does. But why do you think people hire tutors for their children? Why did you join a guild?”
“To learn and to be educated.”
“Every parent wants their children to have more opportunities than they had. Education, skills, and development are the tools for each person to choose their own destiny. Be you, Kincaid.”
“But I have to give up something if I choose your path. I have to turn away from everything I believe to do this.”
“Yes, you must sacrifice something. You only get to walk down one path in life, and history doesn’t reveal its alternatives.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Then you have chosen the path for you and your sister.”
“I don’t want this.”
“That’s a very different statement, Kincaid. The time is coming for you to decide what you will do when fate taps you on the shoulder. How will you respond to the call?”
“The call frightens me.”
“It should. Some turn their backs on the call, and they spend their lives wondering what might have been. Some spend their lives trying to claim their moment, but they haven’t developed the skills to make a difference. None of those are you.”
“But the decision…” Kincaid couldn’t finish the sentence.
“You don’t have the strength to fight your way out of this city. You need the power of my soul to survive. This can be my redemption for all I’ve done.”
Kincaid’s mind fought between what he must do and the right thing to do. His jaw hurt from his teeth grinding together. Another way; heroes found another way.
Kincaid wasn’t a hero.
The blackwood cane warmed from his grip until his knuckles hurt. His shoulder ached from unhealed wounds. Exhaustion wracked his body from low nutrition and restless nights. The scar of magic on his soul tortured his mind.
A choice.
Emptiness in his soul made his body shake. Arcane power leaped across its hidden divide and filled his soul. Kincaid accepted the power and demanded restraint. He set his face in determination as his heart rebelled. His fingers trembled, and his legs wouldn’t move. His choice was the only one he could reasonably make. The weight of the decision crushed his spirit.
The older man’s eyes filled with tears as he saw salvation in an inexperienced man who glowed like an otherworldly angel.
With a gesture, Kincaid melted the locks to his cell. Molten metal dripped to the stone floor and boiled. The red mass dulled to gray as he walked out of his prison cell for the first time.
One stride crossed the gap between the cells. The lock disintegrated with a touch of arcane flame. Power tempted his soul, but Kincaid focused on the terrible task. He pushed the door open with his cane and stood in front of Magi Cormac.
The Magi of Caesea bowed his head to Kincaid and then dropped to his knees.
“I am your servant, Magi Kincaid.” The young man’s heart wrenched with the submission of the powerful man. The older magi willingly gave himself to this cause.
“Magi Cormac, how do I do this?”
“These chains will constrict once I open myself to the arcane world. When I summon my flow of power, you must take it all from me. Pull my awareness into you.”
Kincaid used a filthy sleeve to wipe the tears from his eyes. He tried to keep his back straight and looked at the man kneeling in front of him. Magic in Kincaid’s soul tried to take over his mind. The power he could wield would be unlike any person in history. Magic at his command.
“But I must ask you one more thing, Magi Kincaid.”
The soft words pulled his mind away from the dark thoughts and back to the present.
“Anything.”
“Do not leave these chains here in this prison. You must destroy the secret. Nations will fight and kill for what you know, and these chains are the key to enslaving every wizard. People fear what they don’t understand. Remember, you can’t use magic to destroy them, and even steel won’t work.”
Kincaid smiled. “I’m a carpenter, and I understand.”
Magi Cormac bowed his head for the last time and summoned his power of magic. Kincaid took a half step back as the power of magic poured into the man. A thundering waterfall of energy rushed into the room, and the magi held nothing back.
Kincaid laid his right hand on Cormac’s head, and his fingertips tingled from the power in the man’s skin. The connection between souls popped into place, and Kincaid’s mind exploded with strength, beauty, and vision. His soul sang with the accompaniment of an orchestra of untold power. His very being struggled to maintain his identity.
Liane.
He didn’t feel his legs collapse as he dropped to the floor. Fingers burned with power, but he didn’t let go. His subconscious mind heard the clacking of chains tightening on their creator.
Freedom.
Kincaid experienced the release of the tortured soul. It merged with his own. The beauty and power were his to command.
In what seemed like an eternity, the surge vanished. It must have only lasted for a moment.
Pain in his shoulder disappeared, and his step was strong as he got back to his feet. Youth surged in his muscles. A new man with a stolen soul.
He picked up his cane from the floor even as he realized he couldn’t remember when he dropped it. He slipped the end of Master Barnet’s cane between Cormac’s limp wrist in the shackle. With a twist, the restraints snapped open.
With his magically attuned senses, he understood the genius in developing these restraints. They would devour arcane power and resist the strongest metal. Yet they snapped when prodded with a length of wood. Kincaid wondered if they had a wooden key.
He pulled the chains off the lifeless body of his mentor. Using the man’s shirt, he crafted a bag to carry the chains out of the prison.
Kincaid laid the shirtless body onto the straw pallet. He laid the man’s arms across his chest and fumbled to find words to offer to the gods who may be watching. Finding none, Kincaid returned to his cell and gathered up the remaining straw. He covered the body with everything in their cells that could burn.
The makeshift funeral pyre smoked at the first hint of arcane flames. In another moment, flickering light from the growing bonfire created dancing sha
dows in the cell block. With arcane power, the fire enveloped the cell.
The young magi turned toward the sounds of alarm.
Fifty-Five
Attius - A New Council
“I oppose the decision.”
“Attius, your opposition is noted,” Lady Silvia said.
“I wish to debate the merits of the Council plans. I think we—”
“Lord Atros, what additional information could you bring to this case that the members of the City Council do not already know?” Lady Enna of House Julius said.
“We did not discuss changing prisons for the wizard’s sister.” Attius kept his tone even and without emotion. Frustration boiled just under the surface.
“But we have. That’s why we ordered the move by the sorceratti,” Lady Enna said.
Attius would watch this one. She was a quiet member of the Council, and her family made waves when she presented her credentials to represent House Julius in the City Council. Enna was the third child of aging parents, an unusual choice in a city ruled by heredity and hierarchy. She was an unknown weight on the balance of power between the houses. Now her house was taking sides.
“We must move forward from this event. This one man distracts the entire affairs of the city,” the newly-elected Duchess said.
Attius fumed, sitting at the extreme left of the Council table. Craning his neck to look to his right, he had to lean forward to attempt eye contact with the other members. They put him here deliberately, the weakest position at the table. Power was at the center, the high seat, and the Duke of the city.
“I fear this may be the most important decision the City Council will make this year.”
A sigh cut Attius’ words short. “Please, Lord Atros, the decision to execute the boy is made and approved by the City Council. We have these laws for a reason. We will not allow one house to change the balance of laws for their benefit,” said Lord Gordio. The words cut Attius across the belly and left his insides burning. If House Paulus verbalized support for this plan, House Atros was fallen.