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Price of Enlightenment
Caleb Wachter
Part I
Price of Enlightenment, Part I © 2019 Caleb Wachter
All characters and events in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to persons living, dead, or hidden in the confines of your own imagination is entirely coincidental.
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Price of Enlightenment, Part I
A young girl's magic talents draw her into a world of competition and betrayal at the brutal Wizard's Academy.
Gilai'el was just a young girl when a mysterious man came to her village to call in an old family debt. And when that debt included the life of her uncle and sole caregiver, Gilai'el was whisked away by the very many who killed her uncle.
Taken to a reputable Wizard House in the Imperial City, Gilai'el soon learns that hers is a far from unique story. The High Wizards of the Empire are plucked from the furthest corners of the land, sometimes willingly and sometimes by force, and prepared for induction to the Wizard's College.
But this is no Hogwarts. Intrigue, betrayal, and coercion are not only accepted, but encouraged in this brutal academy which seeks to sharpen these young apprentices into almighty agents of the Empire. Will the soft-hearted Gilai-el survive this terrifying place, or will it claim her as it has so many others?
It will be the ultimate challenge...one which will reshape the young woman for the rest of her life.
Prologue
Compliance
The two men sat in the middle-aged sorcerer’s home, positioned across from each other at the dining table. His home had been built into the secluded, granite cliff hundreds of years earlier by his ancestors, and those ancestors had passed their knowledge of the arcane down through their family, along with the many ancient objects, relics and artifacts which they had collected over the centuries.
The sorcerer’s name was Yav’el, and he had taken sole possession of the location — and its many secrets — five years earlier when both his father and brother had died at the hands of an unspeakably powerful wizard the likes of which even legends rarely described. Until this very day, Yav’el had hoped his line would never again come face to face with that wizard’s ilk.
But someone had seen through his family’s carefully constructed shroud of concealment and found him, and the very man who had done so now sat across the table from him in the same chair which Yav’el’s brother, Gan’el, had used for every meal the two brothers had shared with their father growing up.
It was impossible for any normal human — even a sorcerer as powerful as Yav’el’s father, Tor’el — to pierce the veil of obfuscation which had been laboriously erected around his family home. But he knew that the man opposite him was far from normal.
“I cannot do as you ask,” replied Yav’el gravely. “Not only would it be a betrayal of those we have sworn to protect, but I am obligated with even greater priority to defend the legacy of my forebears. While I draw breath, I cannot allow any portion of that legacy to fall into the hands of those who might pollute and defile it.”
“I assure you,” replied the man in a voice as hard as iron, “I have no intention of desecrating any product of your ancestors’ illustrious line. However, you must realize that your days are numbered. If I managed to penetrate your defenses with such minimal effort, how long can you expect to remain hidden when the eyes of the Great Enemy turn toward your lands in earnest?”
Yav’el shook his head. “As I said,” he insisted solemnly, “I cannot do as you ask. It would be a betrayal of the highest order to all which I, and those who went before me, hold dear.”
The man slumped back in his chair with unreadable features. His head was devoid of hair, and the skin of his scalp had a waxy appearance which reflected the dim candlelight radiating from the chandelier above the table.
“You know I cannot allow your legacy fall into the hands of the people who slew your kin,” said the smooth-headed man softly, “for I have made a vow of my own to those of your line who came before you. Too much of their work would lead the agents who have nearly reached your doorstep back to me, and I cannot,” he slammed his fist down on the table, “allow all that I and my line have worked toward to be destroyed!”
Yav’el had expected this, knowing full well the bargain his line had entered into with this man over a century before. He stood slowly from the table. “Then I would ask a favor after I am gone,” he said respectfully.
The bald man stood slowly from the table, his eyes piercing Yav’el as he did so. “As I said,” he reiterated pointedly, “I will not desecrate, or allow to be desecrated, any product of your ancestors’ tireless efforts. That which bears your legacy shall be protected to the best of my ability — of that you have my word.”
Yav’el trusted the wizard standing across from him, just as his father, grandfather and great grandfather before him had trusted him. He knew that the man would honor his word, no matter the cost. Yav’el’s only regret was that he would not be the one to see his brother’s most sacred responsibility seen through personally. “Then you must do that which you came to do,” Yav’el replied, feeling a measure of serenity as he did.
The smooth-headed man nodded grimly. “It must be public, and I fear it must be absolute,” he said with more than a hint of regret in his voice. “It is the only way to protect your family’s legacy — as well as protect the people who have depended on your kin through the years.”
“It is as it should be,” replied Yav’el, “and yet, I would ask a favor of you.”
The bald man nodded, “If it is within my power.”
Yav’el fought to keep tears from welling in his eyes at the thought of what he was about to do. “I would like to leave a message…for when the time is right.”
The other man considered the request silently before nodding curtly. “Agreed. I will see it delivered — personally, if necessary.”
After Yav’el had composed the message in his chosen manner, he turned and walked to the door, followed at a respectful distance by the bald wizard. The walk to the village took them two hours, and they made the journey in absolute silence.
* * *
The crowd which had assembled in the village center was the largest ever seen in the tiny hamlet. The populace had known that a stranger from distant lands had arrived and that Yav’el was to do battle with him, just as he and his ancestors had done battle with all who would threaten the safety of the village.
But even the people gathered around the large square could sense that this was somehow different. There was a look to Yav’el’s face which hushed the once-exuberant crowd that had shown up to see their protector defeat yet another would-be invader, just as he had at least once per year when the various threats to the safety of the village would rear their heads.
“Good people!” began Yav’el as he took his place opposite his grey robe-clad adversary in the village square. “I take up arms in defense of your fair village, in accordance with the agreement made between my ancestors and your own.”
The crowd erupted into cheerful applause, and Yav’el could hear a tone of defiance in
their voices which broke his heart. He knew that this was the end of the freedom they had enjoyed under his line’s protection, but even in the face of certain doom, he would not set aside the integrity of his line. He would play his part, just as he had dozens of times before, even with the certain knowledge that this would be the final act of his life.
Yav’el turned to face his foe, who nodded solemnly as he stood relaxed opposite the black-haired Yav’el. “This man has challenged me for the right to all which belonged to my ancestors, as well as that which I now protect, and I have accepted that challenge. Should I fail in this contest, you must honor my agreement with him!”
A hush came over the crowd as everyone assembled knew what that meant. There was a chorus of whispers which were quickly silenced as the black-haired sorcerer turned to face the bald man.
“Kor devalis unt fira kel,” chanted Yav’el as he cleared his mind and summoned the power of his first attack. His hands gestured in the air before him, weaving an impossibly complex, invisible pattern which even he could not see. He relied on his memory and years of intense practice sessions to duplicate the gestures required to conjure his line’s mightiest magics.
“Fira devalis jon kel!” he finished, and his hands came together at the wrists with his palms facing forward as they thrust into the air before Yav’el, and a massive ball of flame burst into existence in the air in front of his chest, seemingly pressed into reality by his bare hands.
The roaring fireball soared across the nearly two hundred feet separating the men in the village square, but the bald wizard stood serenely as the raging inferno approached. He didn’t even flinch when the ball of fire exploded all around him, causing the crowd to once again erupt into a victorious roar.
The fires burned in a fan-shaped area extending past where they had exploded on the grey-robed man, even leaping to a nearby building as a good portion of the fireball carried on past where the bald man had stood.
Yav’el felt a twinge of regret as he looked into the crowd and found a small, innocent face with long, raven-colored hair. He knew that he would miss watching her grow into a woman, but there was no choice — the choice had been made for him two centuries earlier by his forebears.
The crowd’s cheering came to a sudden end with a collective gasp as the fires died down, revealing the bald-headed man as he stood in the exact same posture as before the impact of the fireball.
There was a shimmering, dome-shaped field surrounding him which glowed with an angry orange color, and it soon became clear to all assembled that the flames had never even penetrated that field.
“Co ti vel, Zar ti vel, I ti vel, Us ti vel, shiza stil…” Yav’el immediately began, reciting the ancient words of power and moving his feet in unison with his hands as he swept his entire body sideways in the practiced movements his father had taught him. The sky above began to rumble, and the faces of the assembled crowd turned up to see a thundercloud forming overhead.
“Us’I’Zar’Co, vel ti krakto!” he finished, reaching his hands to the sky before pointing them in unison toward the bald wizard as he finished the incantation.
There was a blinding flash of light accompanied by a deafening peal of thunder as a blinding lightning bolt crashed into the orange shield surrounding the grey-robed man. The field flared, becoming enveloped by crackling electricity in the seconds following the impact. Despite their collective temporary blindness, again the crowd cheered — this time somewhat more reservedly.
But once again, when the residual electrical charge had dissipated and the crowd’s collective vision returned, the wizard was standing in the same posture as before the spell had struck his defenses. Yav’el knew it was time to safeguard one of the last pieces of his line’s legacy, so he closed his eyes and prepared his next casting.
Yav’el concentrated, recalling another complex series of gestures to his mind. “Fae vendo, Ral vendo, El vendo kel,” he chanted evenly as his hands snaked through the air even faster than the last time, the movements of his arms coinciding precisely with the tempo of his voice. “Vendo rikto, vendo kina, Fae’Ral kel!” he finished, causing a patch of ground between them to split open suddenly with enough force to knock everyone present from their feet, including Yav’el.
Everyone except the bald man, whose features were an unreadable mask as he stood calmly in the same position he had at the outset.
From the crack in the earth came an alien creature in the shape of a tall, naked woman. But this particular creature had wings sprouting from its back like a butterfly’s, with every color of the rainbow glittering in beautiful patterns across their surface. Its eyes were huge, green and multifaceted like an insect’s and each three-fingered hand ended in needle-sharp, silver talons nearly two feet long, which curved slightly inward toward the tips.
It was the last of its kind, and it called its race ‘Fae’Ral.’ It was the most powerful creature with which Yav’el’s ancestors had entered into a compact, and this was only the second time Yav’el had ever summoned the terrible creature. Long ago, the Fae’Ral had agreed to serve his family’s line for all time, after receiving a payment agreed to by his great, great grandfather. Yav’el actually held a sliver of hope that the creature might defeat the grey-robed man…and in so doing prevent Yav’el from delving into the darkest, foulest magics his family had learned over the last two centuries.
The Fae’Ral immediately flew toward the bald man’s position too quickly for the human eye to see, and it began to rain blows down on the surface of the orange shield surrounding him with its long, silver talons. The shield flashed with each impact, and after a few short seconds, it appeared to be having some success as the dome-shaped field’s shape began to distort.
Seemingly from nowhere, the bald man produced a grey stone staff with a huge gemstone affixed to its tip, and from that tip sprang a grey tendril of energy.
The Fae’Ral shot up into the air to escape the beam, and the flying creature’s movements were only perceptible by the faint trail of glittering particles which followed it. For a moment it appeared that it might outrun the slow, smoky tendril of grey energy.
But that tendril surged upward with a sudden burst of speed and encircled the Fae’Ral’s naked body, obscuring it from view as the winged creature was slowly brought back toward the ground between the two spellcasters.
The bald man held his staff easily in one hand, directing the movement of the Fae’Ral’s trapped body with it. When it was suspended a few feet above the ground, the grey-robed man snapped his staff back, and the imprisoned creature was pulled into the staff’s tip, disappearing entirely along with the grey tendril of energy almost instantly.
The bald man struck the butt of his staff against the ground emphatically, causing the crack in the ground from which the Fae’Ral had sprung to slowly close. When it had done so, he gestured beckoningly, clearly inviting Yav’el’s next move.
Yav’el only had one remaining option, and it was one he was loathe to attempt. He knew the terrible price he would pay, but he had an obligation to his ancestors and to the people of the village.
“Nec dizel, nec silon—“ he began as he gestured with his fingers in the air before him, but was interrupted when he felt his body lift from the ground and hurtle forward with incredible speed.
Yav’el smashed into a hard surface with enough force to break a dozen ribs, and he lost his breath immediately. His legs were numb, and his eyes opened reflexively when his chest erupted in pure agony. He looked down to see that he had struck against the bald man’s defense fields.
“No, good man,” said the grey-robed wizard with a shake of his head. Yav’el saw a tear run down the bald wizard’s cheek as the other man continued, “I will not allow you to defile yourself thus.”
Yav’el tried to struggle against the invisible force which pinned him against the angry, orange shield, but he quickly realized it was useless and relaxed as he accepted his end.
“I beg…of you,” Yav’el pleaded between ragg
ed, panting breaths, “look after…what little remains…of our…legacy.”
The grey-robed man nodded solemnly, “I swear it to you.”
Yav’el nodded with resignation. “Thank you…Antolin,” he breathed in little more than a whisper as he struggled against the pain of his ruined chest, “end it quickly…for her sake.”
Antolin raised his staff, lifting Yav’el’s battered body as he did so. “As you wish,” he agreed, bringing the staff’s tip down in a blur of motion which barely registered in Yav’el’s mind.
The defeated sorcerer never even felt the impact as he was killed instantly, crushed against the shields of the most powerful wizard he had ever known.
* * *
The little girl had made eye contact with her uncle just before he had called the lightning bolt from the strange cloud that had appeared in the sky. He had told her that one day this might come and that when it did, she was to be strong.
So, when Uncle Yav’el’s second spell had failed to destroy the evil, bald man, she feared the worst. But when the Fae’Ral had appeared from the ground just like in the pictures in her uncle’s house, she knew her uncle would win.
But the man with no hair used his magic staff and had somehow killed the Fae’Ral. When it happened, she felt a kind of pain like nothing she had ever known deep within her, but she couldn’t tell where the pain really was. It hurt, but not badly enough to make her cry.
She kept her eyes on the battle and saw Uncle Yav’el begin to cast another spell when he was hurled through the air and smashed into the evil man’s shield the color of fire.
Shadows and Sorcery: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 315