The Demon Mages (The Power of Three Book 1)

by Sabine A. Reed

  “We are travelers,” said Arkon as he nudged Zo aside and stepped in front of her. “We heard the screams and saw the burning village and came to see if anyone required our help.”

  The fool, Zo cursed. One flick of that insane woman’s hand and he would die a horrible, painful death. Did he not understand how dangerous mages could be?

  “Well, off with you. We’re on king’s business here,” said the male mage.

  Zo put her hand on Arkon’s shoulder and tried to pull him back.

  “Wait a moment!” The female mage frowned. She muttered an incantation. Her eyes widened as she discovered their magical aura. Stepping around the boy, she walked towards them. “These two women are mages. Why aren’t you in the king’s army?"

  "We have no allegiance to the king," Zo declared.

  "Amain, signal the durkha. Call him now,” said the female mage as she glared at Zo.

  Amain frowned. “He may be too far. It’s been a while since he left.”

  “Put up your shield,” Zo whispered to Ria. Whoever this durkha was, she didn’t want to wait for his arrival. Zo pulled a shield in front of Arkon and Erob. As she muttered an incantation to create a shield around her own body, the female mage weaved a spell, causing two spears that were lying on the floor to fly towards them.

  Zo blocked them with an adroit twist of her hand, but even as she threw up a shield to protect Ria who was still gaping at the mounting tableau with an uncomprehending look on her face, the female mage let loose another spear that hit Ria on the chest.

  Ria fell with a loud scream. With both hands she managed to pull out the spear and writhed in agony as blood gushed from the wound in a massive spurt.

  Zo gasped. Without a sound, she wove her first spell, directing an arrow that lay in the dust to rise up in the air and fly towards the female mage. Without waiting to see if the arrow hit its intended target, she raised her hands and directed fireballs at the two mages who stood gloating behind the hostages. Amain died on the spot. Faster reflexes saved the other. He threw up a shield just in time. The fireball hit him with the force of a mini tsunami but his shield saved his life. He fell unconscious on the hard floor.

  Zo turned towards Ria. Arkon was sitting beside her, her head on his lap. With a desperate look etched across his face, he was trying to stop the bleeding with his bare hands. Zo could tell the healer was already beyond any help they could give her. The spear had pierced her heart in one clean thrust. She must have stopped breathing the moment she fell. Kneeling, Zo placed her hand on the young woman’s forehead. Tears pricked against her eyes.

  It was hard to imagine that moments before the healer was alive…and now she wasn’t. The waste of human life shook Zo to the core. Never having witnessed such callous cruelty before, she couldn’t quite summon the courage to deal with it. Shaking her head at Arkon, she closed the young healer’s eyes. There was nothing they could for her.

  Standing, she spared a glance at the female mage who had fallen on her knees and was trying to pull the arrow out of her chest. Loud moaning noises escaped from her mouth. Finally, she fell and took a few rattled breaths before succumbing to the cold hands of death. She deserved it, Zo thought. Anyone with such careless disregard for human life didn’t merit any pity.

  None of the mages had been wearing any wards. Clearly, no one ever had the bravado or power to attack them. Zo glanced at the cowering villagers, who were clearly expecting her to kill them also.

  “Open their ropes and let them go. I’ll see if anyone is alive in one of the houses.” She stalked off towards the houses, heat from the fireballs still radiating off her hands. Her blood boiled with rage.

  This was the first time she had ever killed a human being. Until this moment she had never believed she had the capability to take someone’s life. She wasn’t a killer.

  Well, now she was!

  Her own ruthlessness scared her. Was she any better than the battle-crazed mages who roamed this countryside brutalizing and murdering innocent people?

  Perhaps, she should be feeling guilty but she didn’t. Instead, fury coursed through her veins like molten lava. She hadn’t thought--had simply reacted to Ria’s death and the carnage she witnessed throughout the village. Countering their brutality with her own was perhaps not the best possible thing she could have done. But Ria’s unnecessary death ripped away her control. Should she have let her murderers go unpunished? Should she have tried to reason with the monsters that had killed so many people and walked away without as much as a backward glance?

  Although she had excused herself away from the square on a false pretext only because she needed the time alone to gather her thoughts, Zo searched through the mud dwellings to see if there was anyone needing help. All she found was corpses. Young and old, women and children and elderly men; some were killed with magic, others with spears and arrows. The three mages she met in the square weren’t the only ones responsible for this massacre. A larger force, including mages as well as common soldiers, had been deployed in these dwellings – but to what purpose?

  What were they hoping to find here? And why kill all these people? It looked to be a work of insanity. Some of the people were killed with powerful magic; their heads ripped off, their bodies torn apart. More force than was necessary was applied. It wasn’t the work of ordinary mages.

  Who was the durkha the female mage wanted to summon – and why?

  All these thoughts crossed her mind as she headed back towards the square. Pushing aside her jumbled feelings, Zo weaved a tiny spell to ensure no mage lurked in the deserted lanes or houses. When she detected the presence of magic, Zo stopped in mid-stride. It was too faint to be a source for alarm; perhaps it was the residual magic that lingered in the air. But its beat was steady, albeit weak.

  Mulling over this strange phenomenon, she stepped back into the square. Erob leaned against a wall, staring at the unconscious wizard. Arkon was still kneeling next to Ria’s body.

  “Where are they?” she said. The village people were nowhere to be seen.

  Arkon straightened. His eyes mirrored the sorrow she felt on Ria’s unnecessary death. “I told them to run off. They were eager to be away anyway. It’s…it’s so useless, the way she died.” He looked at Ria’s face, tears glistening in his eyes.

  If only it was that easy for her to express her own grief, but hers was locked away in her heart, behind a storm of fury still churning inside of her.

  The villagers probably thought she would come back and blast them also. Well, she didn’t blame them. Looking at the carnage around her, it was clear that the few survivors were indeed lucky to be alive.

  “One of them did say that half the village is hiding in the forest. It seemed the mages came with an army and were looking for an old mage called Bikram. The villagers told them that nobody by that name or with any magical powers lived in here, but they didn’t believe that. They rounded the young men to draft them in the army, and killed many while searching though the houses, trying to find this person,” said Erob. He hesitated and then continued. “The villager was also blabbing about demons but it didn’t make much sense.”

  “To them, these monsters must have appeared like demons. Bikram? Who is he?”

  “The villagers never heard about this mage before.”

  “They sent an army to find just one man. He must be important to them.” Zo chewed on her bottom lip. Who was this man they were tracking and why he was so important to the king?

  Well, there was no way to know, unless she woke up the unconscious mage and forced him to tell the truth. The effort would cost time, and they had none to spare. What’s more, it wasn’t any of her concern. If the king wanted to send an army to find one man, it was his call. She only wished he would instruct his men not to kill the villagers. Or were his men acting on his commands? Did he want to spread a reign of terror in his kingdom?

  Terrified people seldom united together to oppose their enemy. Maybe this was his strategy so that everyone fell in line
with his plans?

  She raised her eyes to the sky. The sun was barely visible on the western horizon. It was time to leave this cursed place. Arkon brought out a spade from a burned hut and dug a shallow grave.

  They buried Ria's body. Zo wished they could take her back, but it would be impossible to do so. She retrieved a pale pink ribbon and a lock of her hair to give it as a memento to her family. They said a prayer over her grave.

  When they finished, she beckoned to Arkon and Erob and they walked back to where the horses were tied. Zo quickened her steps, eager to get away from this macabre place. To her surprise the tracking spell she was using to detect magic strengthened. They were passing by a burned mud dwelling. Zo stopped. The scent of magic was there. It wasn’t strong, but it was still steady. Someone with the gift lurked in that house.

  Was it the durkha the female mage had mentioned? Or was it one of the killers biding his time before attacking them?

  After conjuring a small ball of light, she sent it floating inside to increase the visibility. Motioning for her companions to stay behind, she stepped through the charred door which hung on one hinge and moved inside the house. It was a small, narrow place, filled with smoke. The front room contained a cot that stood upright against the wall. It was burned badly. Everything else in the room was blackened with soot. Nothing was spared. Someone had sent a few fireballs through his room, trying to make sure no one survived.

  She wanted to stop looking and go back, but something convinced her to pursue this a bit further. Where was the scent of magic coming from?

  She moved further into the dwelling. Her spelled light hovered high, chasing the shadows away. The kitchen contained a single table, with two chairs, both of them overturned. Against one wall stood a stove on and two shelves contained a few pots and pans. About to step back into the main room, Zo paused. She noticed something odd. The table was bolted to the floor, and the space under the table looked a bit cleaner than the rest of the floor. She squatted on her feet to take a closer look. A tiny round knob protruded from a corner of the floor under the table.

  “What’s wrong?” Arkon said as he stepped behind her.

  Zo pulled the knob and a trap door opened upwards. Huddled in the confined space, an old mage cowered. He was half burned on his face and body. Zo stared into his terrified eyes. Clearly, he expected the worst.

  “Allow me.” Arkon pushed her aside, and leaned forward with gentle hands to pull the man out. “We aren’t going to hurt you,” he promised.

  The old man must have sustained the wounds on his face and body when someone set fire to his house. It was a miracle he wasn’t dead yet, or was screaming with the pain.

  “Oh gods, have mercy on him!” Arkon muttered as he saw the state of the man’s legs. Both his legs were burned so badly that they resembled charred wood. Surprisingly the old man was still conscious and didn’t appear to be in great pain. He must have woven a spell to block the excruciating agony.

  Zo knelt beside the old man and inspected the wounds. It was clear that there wasn’t much she could do. Burns of such degree would require the expert touch of a healer. Only if Ria was with them…but she was buried in the dirt, her soul already lost to this world. Unwilling to not even attempt anything, she touched the man’s legs and muttered a healing spell. She had no salve to put on his wounds. If Alicia was here, she could have made one from scratch.

  But then Alicia wasn’t here. She was far away, waiting for her sister to bring the much needed flowers that would save her life, and that of brother’s.

  The old man gripped her hand in an iron grasp.“You’re a mage.”

  He must think she was one of those who visited such monstrous bloodshed on his village. “I’m, yes. But don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. We don’t belong to king Vindha’s army.”

  “I’m as good as dead anyway,” he proclaimed in a soft whisper. “They searched for me, but I would rather die than go back to that monster.”

  Arkon and Zo shared a glance. Was this the man the king’s minions were searching for? Why was he so important to the king?

  “Are you Bikram?” Arkon said.

  Zo glanced back. Erob was lurking outside the cottage. He hadn’t even bothered to come inside. Clearly, he didn’t want to get into any trouble. She looked back at the old man.

  “I was known by many names.” He moaned. “Bikram was one. It’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time, and I would’ve died happily never hearing it.”

  Zo stared into the old man’s eyes. Despite the desperate wounds he suffered, his gaze was focused--and there was power there. She could see it clearly.

  “What did they want from you?” she asked. Why had he hidden from the men? Could he not have surrendered and spared the innocent villagers so much misery?

  The old man pushed a hand in his tunic pocket and drew out a medallion. It was a stone, set in hammered silver, and tied on a silver chain. The stone itself was an opaque moonstone, as big as a gold coin.

  “You have your grandmother’s beautiful looks. Here, take this.” He thrust it in Zo’s hands. “Give it to my heir when you find him.”

  “Who?” Zo clutched the stone in her fist and felt the warmth radiating from it. It had some power, but it was hard to tell the purpose of it. “Did you know my grandmother? How did you know…?” Was the old mage confusing her for someone else?

  “Met your father once at the court. A young boy he was. And your grandparents.”

  “You were at the court?”

  “Long time ago. Before your grand parents went away. I also escaped. Oh, they searched for me, high and low, but they never could find me. Until today…” he gasped out the words.

  “You knew my grandparents?” How old was this man? And why did he escape from the court?

  “You, boy, there’s a book in that niche under the table. Get it,” Bikram wheezed out the words.

  Arkon rummaged in the hole from which he had pulled the old man out, and took out a red leather book.

  “That’s the one.” The old man touched the book lightly with his fingers, his hand shaking with the effort. “Keep it safe. Give it to my heir. He will read it.”

  “Who’s your heir?” Zo placed her hand on his shoulder.

  He wrenched his gaze away from the book, and stared at her. “Don’t know…” He closed his eyes.

  “Hey!” Zo shook his shoulder. He was dying, and there wasn’t much they could do. Perhaps they could take him to the refugees in the forest. They would take care of him. Maybe there was a healer there who could ease his suffering.

  The old man snapped his eyes open, but now there was a glazed look on his face. The spell that was blocking his pain wasn’t working anymore. Agony flickered in his eyes. “I’m dying. It’s time. Keep the book safe.” Closing his eyes, he sighed deeply.

  “What can we do?” Arkon asked Zo, panic in his voice.

  “There isn’t much anyone can do,” she whispered, feeling frustrated as she looked at the old man. What was the use of her power if she couldn’t even save one man from death? “The damage is too great. It would be impossible for anyone to heal him. He’s gone.”

  They saw the old man take his last breaths. Slowly, his chest stopped moving. He was gone.

  “We should leave,” said Arkon. He handed the diary to Zo. “It’s getting late.”

  Zo nodded. They left Bikram in his ruined house, and came out.

  Erob eyed the items she held in her hand. “What was all that about?”

  Ignoring him, Zo pushed the diary and the medallion deep in her pack. There would be time later on to look at the two items to see if they were worth so many lives. Clearly, the old man hadn’t wanted king’s minions to lay their hands on these.

  Removing the reins and saddle of Ria’s horse, she dropped the items on the floor and gave the animal a slap on its flank to make it move. The horse took off, surprised by its new-found freedom. She hoped someone would find it, and use it as a farm animal. They didn’t have th
e time to take it to a market for sale.

  She mounted her mare. The animal was agitated due to the smell of death and blood that hung about in the air. She ran a gentle hand down the mare’s shoulder to calm her.

  The original party of four, now three, set off again. The journey had claimed its first victim. Would there be more?

  Zo doubted that their troubles were over. And yet, despite the loss they suffered, it was time to move on.

  Chapter Seven

  Arkon stood at the edge of a roaring river, an empty pot by his side. After leaving the village behind, they traveled for a long time before making camp on a high rise near a narrow tributary that seemed to have split from a bigger river. The water was wild and stormy, cascading over the gentle meadows and forested land. Squatting, he took a handful of the cold water and splashed it over his face. He stared into the hidden depths of the river, watching the last red-orange rays of sun dance across its choppy surface.

  It was impossible to believe they had lost Ria. Tonight, not one of them would be able to sleep well. She’d been a quiet, complacent soul, but now they would all miss her soothing presence as they shared a meal by the fire.

  Turning his head, he glanced at Zo as she sat on her blanket. She was writing something in her diary. He saw it in her hand every night. The hollows under her eyes were prominent even at this distance. Ria’s death weighed heavily on their collective shoulders, but the princess seemed to have taken it as a personal failure – or loss.

  Guilt chewed at Arkon’s soul. Had they been careless back in the village? If they were more cautious, would Ria still be alive? The remorse was hard to live with, but it was a fact not any of them could escape from. Even Erob looked subdued as he sat hunched by the fire.

  Arkon dipped the pot into the cool water and filled it. The evening meal was yet to be prepared. It would be good to have a hot meal in their belly.

  Arkon sympathized with the princess’s desire to move on despite the loss of their companion. It would be good to be away from the killing grounds of the king and move into more peaceful lands. Although he feared now that it may not be possible. Every village they passed told the same story; young men taken away for the army, farmhouses looted for provisions, and innocent people killed for no reason. The war was upon the land, and none were spared. King Vindha was determined to win this war, and Arkon feared no matter which way they turned, they would always be in the middle of it.