Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  The old man grasped Adam’s forearm. “Please, just old Osler, Master Gray. A simple name for a simple farmer.”

  Adam grinned at the old man’s self-deprecating humor. “Adam, please. You’ve no idea how great it feels to see a friendly face, Osler.” He gripped the man’s arm a little harder. “No idea.”

  Osler’s smile widened as he released Adam’s arm. “Oh, but I would never presume to call a mage by his first name, Master Gray. It is not seemly.”

  “Mage?” Adam responded. “Me?”

  Osler’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “Oh, aye, young sir. You carry a staff of montoria wood, do you not? Mages prize them for their magical properties.”

  Adam looked at the staff in his hand. “This? Well, I don’t know about ‘magical properties,’ but I figured it would come in handy if I ran into another one of those... Unsouled. Look, I’m no Houdini, but I guess you could say I’m in the magic business. I run a shop back home and...”

  Osler’s face lit up with awe. “Indeed, Master Gray? I do not know of this Master... Hou-di-ni, did you say? Is he from Karloun? Or perhaps the isle of Ciote?”

  “Um, no. He’s from a place very far away, Osler. Even farther than my home back in Ohio. I’m uh... a stranger here, and I just need to find my way back home.”

  “I see, Master Gray. As it happens, this load of ale goes to the Juggler’s Inn in Lakeshore. Please, allow me to offer you a ride. The Mages’ Guild has a chapter there. Perhaps they know of this... O-hi-o.”

  “Thanks, Osler. That would be great.”

  The two men climbed onto the wagon. Adam turned to place his staff among the barrels strapped down in the wagon’s bed. There he noticed an unstrung bow and a leather quiver full of arrows. Looks like Osler came prepared for trouble, he thought.

  When Adam took his seat, Osler released the brake and gave the reins a light shake. The wagon started off with a lurch. Adam smelled the sharp, yeasty tang of ale as it drifted from the barrels. His stomach gurgled again.

  “Ah, where are my manners?” remarked Osler. “Unless your pockets are deeper than they seem, you would appear to have no provisions.” He motioned to a canvas bag under the seat. “The food is plain, but I have more than enough. Please, eat.”

  “Thanks, Osler.” Adam rummaged through the bag and found flatbread, several wedges of hard cheese and almost a dozen yellow- and red-striped apples, each about the size of a small cantaloupe.

  Around a mouthful of the flavorful cheese, Adam mumbled, “Osler, like I said before, I’m a stranger here. So I hope you don’t mind if I ask a few questions.”

  “Not at all, Master Gray. As my father always said, ‘Pleasant conversation shortens a long road.’”

  Adam squirmed in his seat as he tried to get comfortable on the rough wood. “What is this place? Where are we?”

  Osler looked perplexed as he replied, “We travel the Great Forest, Master Gray. It covers much of the central portion of Tantris. Ohio must be far away indeed if you have never heard of it.”

  “Tantris? Is that the nation we’re in now?”

  Osler appeared quite puzzled now. “Nation? No, Tantris is... well, Tantris is our world. In it are many cities and towns, such as Lakeshore.” He gave a deep sigh. “I see now you are a stranger here. I am but a simple man and know little of the world outside my farm and the nearby countryside. Perhaps such questions are better left for the Mages’ Guild.”

  Adam tried not to let his frustration show. Osler had been more than decent to him. “Then what can you tell me of the Unsouled? And who is this Dark Mage you spoke of?”

  Osler’s forehead drew down in a frown. “Ah, now his is a dark and ancient tale. But one every child has heard often from his father’s knee.

  “History accounts many centuries ago, so far back his true name is no longer remembered, the Dark Mage became a member of the Council of Mages. He was the strongest of the Council, perhaps the strongest mage ever known, mighty in both magic and knowledge. Yet wisdom seldom accompanies such knowledge. As he aged, he became obsessed with the belief immortality was not only possible, but his by right. His studies probed deeper and deeper into the arcane as he searched through ancient tomes of the black arts and performed monstrous rites of forbidden magic. In time, the Council discovered his foul acts. They broke his staff and banished him with a warning never to return on pain of death.

  “The life of a mage is much longer than a normal man’s. But at the time of his exile, the Dark Mage had grown truly ancient, even compared to his fellow mages. So when more than a century passed, the entire world breathed a sigh of relief, secure in the knowledge they had escaped a great evil.”

  Osler tapped his pipe against the side of the wagon to clear the dottle. After sliding the pipe into an inner pocket of his vest, he continued. “But they relaxed too soon. Unknown to all, the Dark Mage had fled to the uttermost reaches of the north. Deep in the fiery heart of Mount Dismay, hidden from the eyes of all, he continued his dark experiments. In the end, he found success.

  “He forged a new staff, not from wood, but from the molten iron of the mountain’s heart. While still white hot, he quenched the staff by stabbing it through the body of one of his own servants. With that blasphemous rite, he created a tool allowing him to rip the soul from the body of an innocent, be it man, woman or child. In consuming that soul, he added a small part of his victim’s life force to his own, extending his years and making immortality possible.

  “Worse still, his victims did not truly die. Instead, they became reanimated bodies, empty of life and soul. Nothing remained but an empty husk filled with an unholy hunger to attack and consume those who have what they do not. They feel no pain and know no fear. They are the Unsouled, the Dark Mage’s innocent victims transformed into mindless soldiers, fodder for his terrible armies.

  “The Dark Mage spent years assembling his forces, consuming souls by the thousands. But he had an insatiable appetite, and would not stop until he had feasted on the entire world. Unleashing his army, he caught the world of men unprepared. Whole cities were overrun and fell under the black power of the Dark Mage. All hope seemed lost.

  “Then the Council of Mages regrouped. Led by their youngest member, Makzendrix, they rallied the armies of men. The Dark Mage’s advance slowed and ground to a halt. But they could not force his armies back. It became a war of attrition with neither side able to overcome the other. Not until Makzendrix allied men with the giants of the Dark Mountains did the tide turn. With the mighty giant army added to that of mankind, the forces of the Dark Mage foundered. League by league they fought, to the very foothills of Mount Dismay. Destroying the last of the Unsouled, they trapped the Dark Mage inside his mountain fortress.

  “Makzendrix argued for storming the mountain to slay the Dark Mage once and for all. Yet the rest of the Council had grown weary of war. And they remained uncertain the Dark Mage could be slain. Despite all arguments, the Council ordered the Dark Mage sealed inside his mountain. With every means of escape closed off, they believed the centuries he had stolen from his victims would expire at last and the mountain become his tomb.”

  Several silent minutes passed. Only the sound of the wagon wheels and the horse’s hooves against the roadway broke the quiet. Adam had a lot to absorb. He searched Osler’s story for inconsistencies, some contradiction which might help prove he experienced nothing more than a hallucination... or a dream.

  “Osler, you said the Unsouled were defeated hundreds of years ago. So how is that possible if one attacked me yesterday?”

  Osler sighed. “Had you asked me such a question even a few years ago, I would have called it impossible, Master Gray. That is when the Unsouled appeared once again. Though few at first, their numbers are increasing. Many fear it can mean but one thing—the Dark Mage has returned.”

  Adam stared at the road as he thought hard. The dirt and occasional pieces of flat rock had given way to a paved roadway of fitted stone. He’d been so absorbed in Osler’s tale, h
e hadn’t noticed until now. “I barely escaped with my life yesterday. And I fought just one of those things. An entire army... they must have weaknesses, Osler.”

  “They do, Master Gray. Otherwise, Makzendrix and the Council could never have prevailed, even with the help of the giants. The Unsouled are mindless creatures, without the tiniest spark of intellect and driven only by their hunger. In small numbers, they are easy to outwit. But their greatest vulnerability is the sun. They are creatures of the dark and near blinded by sunlight. They are still savage and have terrible strength, but it is then they are at their weakest.”

  Adam recalled the attack from the day before. The way the woman staggered as her arms flailed. She didn’t lunge at him until he spoke. Blindness made perfect sense.

  “But if what you’re saying is true, they should be easy to beat,” Adam said. “Just wait for daylight and pick them off while they stumble around.”

  “And you would be right, young master, but for the Dark Mage. He used his powers to create the Dread, malformed creatures of black magic and the Dark Mage’s greatest servants. The Dread not only drive and control the Unsouled, but they channel the Dark Mage’s foul arts to project the darkness from which they attack.

  “In truth, stopping one of the Unsouled is more difficult than you might imagine, even in daylight. Stab them, disembowel them, even hack off their limbs and still they will not stop. Short of magical means, there are but two ways to stop one of the Unsouled: behead it or destroy its brain.”

  With the reins held in one hand, Osler reached back behind him to pat his longbow. “For myself, I prefer the longbow. An arrow is less messy and can kill the Unsouled at a distance. Swordsmen might disagree, but then I have never believed it a good notion to allow an Unsouled to get too close. If left untreated, even their bites can prove deadly.”

  Adam shuddered. In his mind’s eye, he saw those rotten teeth as they snapped shut bare inches from his face. Simple chance allowed him to grab the pen from his pocket. And to have found such a vulnerable spot? Crediting mere luck didn’t seem to do it justice.

  “You spoke of giants, too, Osler,” he said. “What can you tell me of them?”

  “Little, I fear,” he answered. “To my knowledge, the giants disappeared after the Great War. Many argue they are but a myth. If they exist, they are, at the least, disinterested in the lives of men, preferring to remain distant and aloof. The Dark Mountains would afford them all the solitude they could desire. Far to the east, it is a land both lonely and inhospitable. Those mountains form a natural barrier few men have tried to breach.

  “But perhaps the Mages’ Guild can tell you more,” said Osler. “Ah, it appears we are nearing our destination.”

  Fascinated by Osler’s tale, Adam had paid scant attention to anything else. Now he looked up and saw the forest had thinned out, coming to an end at last. The wagon rode along a gradual descent toward a lowland plain. They remained high enough that the midday sun revealed the checkerboard pattern of cultivated fields below. The tiny figures of farmers worked to bring in the harvest while livestock grazed. The fields ended at the edge of a huge body of water. He recognized the lake he’d seen from the side of the mountain yesterday. Or at least what he’d assumed to be a lake. The body of water below better fit the description for a sea or ocean. And yet he didn’t detect the sharp smell of salt.

  As though he read Adam’s mind, Osler announced, “Tempest Lake, Master Gray, and the city of Lakeshore.”

  Chapter 4, Prisoner

  “Lakeshore? I don’t...” Then he saw it. Still distant, Lakeshore seemed modest at first. Only when he followed the road’s meandering path as it approached the lake did he see it at all. “Seems kind of small.”

  “We have as yet several leagues to go, Master Gray. It is far larger than you might think. And for a frontier city, here on the border of the Great Forest, Lakeshore is quite large.”

  Osler spoke truly. The closer they got, the larger Lakeshore grew. At least the little Adam saw, anyway. Much of the city itself hid behind high walls of dull gray stone topped by rounded turrets twice the height of the wall itself. Proud pennons of green and blue snapped in the breeze from the lake. Frontier city or not, Lakeshore grew more massive and formidable as they drew closer.

  As the field workers became recognizable, Osler exchanged waves and greeted many. By all indications, he made this trip with regularity. “I will begin the journey home on the morrow,” Osler said. “But you are welcome to stay with me, Master Gray.”

  Adam nodded in appreciation. “That’s kind of you, Osler. Truth is, I’m not sure where to go. I don’t know anyone here. Except you, of course.”

  “It is my pleasure. Once I deliver this load of ale, I will escort you to the Mage’s Guild. If there is help to be found in Lakeshore, it is there you will find it.”

  They arrived a few minutes later. A line of wagons stood at the gate waiting to gain entrance. Adam used the time to examine Lakeshore’s exterior.

  Massive blocks of cut stone formed the walls and only the tiniest of cracks showed where they fit together. Along the wall ran a deep moat some 20 feet wide and filled with brackish water. At the entrance to the city, a drawbridge of thick wooden planks bridged the moat and he saw the jagged metal teeth of a raised portcullis just visible at the top of the gatehouse. Two soldiers dressed in tight green coats and baggy black trousers stood at stiff attention on either side of the gate. Wide, black leather bands crisscrossed their chests, and both held tall pikes at their sides. Two soldiers in similar dress with heavy swords belted to their waists inspected the first wagon in line. A third soldier spoke through a thick beard to the driver and made notations in an open book he held in the crook of one arm. The sword hilt at his side looked more ornate and a series of three dark blue stripes on one arm seemed to signify rank. Adam assumed him to be an officer.

  “What do you think they’re looking for, Osler?” asked Adam.

  Osler appeared unsure. “I do not know, Master Gray. I have not seen such inspections in the past.” He pointed at the bearded soldier. “But I know Captain Henslow. He is a good man, so I do not expect trouble.”

  “I guess we’ll find out in a few minutes,” replied Adam.

  It took longer than expected as the soldiers conducted a thorough search. They opened crates and checked through bales and sacks. Several more wagons joined the line behind them, but at last, Osler’s wagon rolled to the front.

  “Good day, Captain Henslow,” called Osler. “Good to see you again.”

  “And you as well, Osler,” mumbled the Captain. He appeared distracted, though, and didn’t look up as he thumbed through his book to a fresh page. “A delivery of ale, I presume?” The other two soldiers had already climbed aboard the wagon and busily yanked on the stopper at the top of one barrel. It gave with a loud pop and a gush of foam.

  “Here, now!” shouted Osler. “What are you doing there? Spill one drop of my ale and I will have your hides! Those barrels hold genuine Dunham ale, not the watered-down swill you guzzle when off duty!” He turned back to Henslow and pleaded, “Captain, please!”

  The two soldiers stumbled back from the opened barrel, embarrassed, white foam dripping from their green coats.

  “Enough, Osler!” Henslow put away his book, approached the side of the wagon and addressed his men. “Tilt each barrel and listen for the sound of ale sloshing around inside. If you hear something different, open it.” The two soldiers nodded and returned to work while Henslow turned his cold, gray eyes on Adam. “Now, Osler, perhaps you have calmed enough to introduce your companion?”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Osler with a nod of his head. He turned toward Adam. “This is Master Adam Gray, a mage from the distant land of Ohio. He is a stranger here and comes seeking the aid of the Mages’ Guild.”

  Henslow and the rest of the soldiers reacted in an instant. Swords slid from their sheaths with a harsh metallic rasp and the points of all three blades hovered just inches from Adam�
�s neck.

  Adam froze, his face white. A wrong move in any direction and he might cut his own throat. “Wait! I’ve done nothing wrong, I swear!”

  Osler gaped. “Captain, what is this? He is but a simple traveler. When has Lakeshore become so hostile to visitors?”

  “When?” snarled Captain Henslow, his face flushed with anger. “When the Dark Mage returned to release his evil upon our lands once again, that is when!” He took a small step back and motioned with his sword tip. Behind clenched teeth, he rasped, “Climb down, stranger.”

  Adam made his way down from the wagon. His heart thudded in his chest as he raised his arms and asked, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Orders arrived just a few days ago from the Council of Mages. ‘All strangers are to be detained for questioning, particularly any claiming to be mages,’” the Captain recited from memory. “And our orders include something else as well. Remove your overgarment.”

  “My jacket? Why...?”

  “Do it!” shouted Henslow. “Or I will cut it off.”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you say.” Adam pulled down the zipper and slid out of his jacket.

  Henslow’s bearded face turned ghostly pale and his eyes widened in fear. His sword quivered in his shaking hand. Even Osler looked frightened.

  A voice from behind Henslow gasped, “The sign of the Dark Mage!”

  Adam glanced at his shirt. Marked all over with the dried, black drool and blood from yesterday’s attack, those splatters covered the shop’s logo, too. A pair of sinister eyes now leered from the infinity symbol on his shirt pocket.

  “Wait! It’s not...” A sword hilt crashed against the back of Adam’s neck, cutting him off in mid-sentence. His head exploded in exquisite pain and blackness reached up to claim him.

  WITH A MUFFLED GROAN, Adam awoke on a dirty, stone floor. He sat up, gritting his teeth and reached back to touch his throbbing skull. Dried blood matted his hair; the skin underneath swollen and hot. He still wore his jeans and boots, but a garment of itchy wool now replaced his shirt. Placing his back against the cold, damp wall, he raised his head with care to look around.