Blood of the Sorcerer

by B. C. Morin

  “How was this possible? I was under the impression we bound him to the ground.”

  Accolon lowered his head.

  “There is a dark magic that can be used to succeed in such a feat. A magic that we thought, was not a concern for any of the Kingdoms, because he had no descendants.”

  Brennus stood tall, crossing his arms over his chest, his grey eyes reflecting the flames of the candles behind Accolon.

  “So the quest you sent me on months ago was leading in the right direction. There is an heir.”

  “Yes, Majesty.”

  “Halwyn,” Brennus faced the council member as he stood at attention, awaiting his King’s command. “You are a Magister in the magical arts, are you not?”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Halwyn’s voice was low and somber.

  “How could he have raised Samil? How has Samil been seen? Should he not be a demon spirit?” Brennus asked, a twinge of anger in his voice.

  “My King, Samil was a great master in the dark arts. There were legends, legends that we tried to prove but came up empty handed. According to one of the slaves that we saved from his capture, in preparation for a possible death, Samil fashioned three scrolls. Each has steps that explain how he can be brought back from the clutches of Hell itself. It is not easily done, and if I am not mistaken, it requires a deal with the Devil himself. This,” Halwyn reached over to a rolled up scroll sitting in front of the spies and unfurled it, “this is what was written at the ritual site. Bero took the liberty of copying it for us. It is-“

  “An invitation for the demon spirit of Samil himself to appear.” Brennus cut him off, as he read the parchment.

  “Now, we believe the heir is involved because only a blood sacrifice can bring forth a spirit that is bound that closely to Hell. Maligo must know who the heir is, or-“

  “Or he, himself, is the heir.” Brennus interrupted again. “But how could that be? Every fae born is looked over for the crest of Samil.”

  “It could have been altered with a sacrifice and dark magic. Remember that Maligo was an orphan.”

  “What were they reported to have been doing?” Brennus asked the spies directly.

  Odhran, the larger of the two and by far the most physically fit, stepped forward, a blonde strand of hair falling across his almost black eyes.

  “From what has been overheard by the creatures of the mountains, it appears that they are in an attempt to re-build Samil’s army.”

  “Tell me about the three scrolls.” His attention turned back on Halwyn.

  “The first scroll is said to bring him forth from Hell, but he would remain in spirit form. The second scroll provides the ritual for him to regain energy and strength. The third scroll is said to provide the spell he will need when he sacrifices a fae in order to either come to full power, or possibly even to his original form. ”

  “So obviously he has the first scroll,” Brennus said as he began pacing the length of the table, “where are the other two scrolls?”

  “No one knows, Majesty. Part of the legend is that he hid the first one and then had the other two hidden so that no other fae could find them.”

  “And how will he find them?”

  “They call to him, sir.”

  “Call to him.” Brennus repeated sarcastically.

  “Samil was a gifted sorcerer, and was able to use dark magic to create the scrolls. That evil that they are written with only call to him. It will only be a matter of time before he begins rituals that will awaken those powers and lead him on a journey to find them.”

  “How do we find them first?” Brennus’s look changing from anger to determination.

  “We cannot. But the Spirit Fae may have a few among them that might be able to.”

  “Then to the Kingdom of Spiritus we must go.”

  “Majesty, your wedding plans.”

  Brennus stiffened at the thought. From the time he had entered the library his thoughts were solely on Maligo and Samil.

  “Galehot,” Brennus began, turning toward the doorway, “wake Isibeal, and inform her of my plans. Do not give her the details, only that I must leave for a couple of weeks. Give her my apologies, and tell her that we must put any plans that require my approval on hold until I return.”

  “Yes, Majesty.” Galehot inclined his head, before turning to leave the room.

  “Accolon and Halwyn,” Brennus turned back to the council members across from him. “You will travel with me to the Kingdom of Spiritus. Prepare your things, we leave shortly after dawn.”

  He opened the door of her room carefully, trying not to wake her. He stepped lightly over to the bed, thankful for the rugs that cushioned and silenced his steps. Brennus sat on the bed, trying not to wake her. He loved to watch her sleep. He recalled the nights in the forest when she was sleeping and he would sit and watch her in her peaceful slumber, vowing not to let anyone or anything hurt her, and here he sat, the one that has inflicted the most pain of all. He reached over and brushed a curl off of the cheek that she did not have pressed to the pillow.

  “Love?” He said lowly, wondering if he should even have come.“I needed to tell you that I will be leaving for a week, or more.” He caressed her cheek as he whispered, knowing she probably could not hear him. “Work hard while I am gone. The fae people will need you soon.”

  Alannah stirred for a moment at his touch but did not open her eyes.

  Brennus sat and watched her for a few moments more, caressing her arm ever so lightly. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness rushed over him at the thought of not being able to watch her sleep just one more night.

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  Chapter 5

  Silence overcame the group after hearing Evyette’s statement.

  “Are you sure, Evy?” Tristan rushed to her side, taking her hand. She never took her eyes off of the burnt foundation.

  The winds had started to pick up and a shiver of cold ran up her spine and down her body. She seemed to have been frozen still. Her hair few wildly behind her, the cold of the wind biting her now pink cheeks and her chest rising and falling with a solid eerie rhythm.

  “Evy?” Tristan slipped his hand onto her cheek, breaking the trance.

  Evyette jerked slightly at the surprise of the touch, but turned quickly and smiled at her love.

  “Yes?”

  “I was asking if you are sure that you lived here.” Tristan’s brow was furrowed with concern. He could feel everyone’s eyes on Evyette but did not look up to verify.

  “Yes. I do not know how I know. But I feel connected to this place.” She tilted her head to the side as if trying to recover a memory that stood just out of reach. The wind picked up around them, and dark clouds began to roll in.

  “Evyette,” Magister Torin walked up, stopping just behind her. “Perhaps we should come back tomorrow. It seems that there is a storm brewing.”

  Evyette didn’t react or respond, only began walking toward the gate. Tristan and Kaleb exchanged worried glances, before looking at the Magisters, in the hopes that they could explain the strange behavior. But the Magisters simply shrugged their shoulders and looked on.

  I should leave, Evyette heard herself say in her head, but she shook it off. No, I cannot have come this far only to turn back. She reached her hand to the ivy covered gate and realized that it was shaking. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pushed on the door, but found it reluctant to open. Her brow creased and she looked down at the door realizing that the ivy was holding it shut. She pushed harder, ripping the ivy apart and watching some of it fall to the ground, but not before she caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of her eye. She looked down at the Mark on her wrist, preparing to call on her own power if need be.

  “What is it, Evy?” Tristan closed the space between them quickly, as did Kaleb.

  Kaleb put his hand on Evyette’s shoulder.

  “Do you sense something?”

  “I saw something.” Evyette turned to the Magisters. “Can you
sense how much or what kind of magic was done here?”

  “There are spells,” Magister Morcant stepped up walking around Tristan, never taking his eyes off of the burnt foundation, “spells we can perform that may tell us.” He looked around the front yard carefully before walking toward the steps.

  “Wait there. We do not want this to be a trap for you.” Magister Torin added before walking around them and up to the steps that Morcant had just ascended.

  They walked carefully into the home through the darkened stone doorway. Evyette watched, noting that they were very careful not to touch anything as they chanted what she assumed were the spells that would tell them part of what was done here. Another icy chill settled up her spine as another shadow whispered by about twenty feet away. She looked at Tristan and then at Kaleb to see if they had seen it, but they did not react and were still watching the Magisters. Nervousness settled into her, and suddenly she found herself wanting to just walk onto the foundation to get everything over with. Before they could stop her, Evyette walked through the gate. As soon as she placed foot onto the lot, four more Venator Animus revealed themselves, creeping along the edges of the gates. Tristan, Kaleb, and the guards readied themselves because this time they had seen them as well. Evyette froze, momentarily wondering why they were not coming straight to her. Perhaps it is because of the Magisters that are with me, she thought for a moment but quickly decided that although that might be part of the reason, it certainly was not the only reason.

  Having noticed the preparation of the others and then the lingering soul hunters, the Magisters moved quickly standing in front of Evyette. They chanted some protection spells before advising them to slowly step backwards.

  “Why are they not trying to attack me?” Her voice shaking slightly.

  “It might have something to do with the home.” Morcant said, standing up straighter as he saw the Venator Animus disappearing into the woods behind the lot.

  “The home?” Her attention was suddenly on the Magisters.

  “There was no dark magic done there. Powerful magic, yes. But not dark. There are traces of protection spells everywhere. I would not doubt that this was your home, and that this is where this happened.” He reached out, grabbing her arm carefully and putting her scars into her line of sight.

  Her scars. She had not thought about it when she walked up, but it makes sense. It could not have been coincidence that her home was burned to the ground and her crest was burned beyond recognition.

  “The question remains, now.” Torin began, saying out loud what it seemed everyone had been thinking. “Who else was here?”

  The home called to her more-so now that she felt the connection between her scar and the burnt foundation. Keeping a vigilant eye on the woods behind, she walked up to the house, Tristan and Kaleb not more than a foot behind her. Evyette walked in slowly, watching every step she took. She took in the fireplace with its rusted, distorted metal crest hanging over the mantle and sighed, knowing that could have been a sure way to tracing her past. She continued back to where the bedrooms had been. In one room she walked into, she could see the remnants of a bed frame, which, as with everything else, had been overrun with weeds and ivy. But something among them caught her eye. She bent down to examine the pink petals that peeked out from among the ruins to find a lone cherry flower sitting among the green. She picked it up carefully, wondering how it managed to survive if it was not part of a tree, nor was there a weeping cherry flower tree nearby. Without giving it a second thought, she cupped the flower in her hand protectively.

  Evyette looked up to find Tristan and Kaleb standing behind her, and she stood to meet their gaze, holding up the flower for them to see.

  “Strange.” Kaleb said, looking questioningly at the two of them. “What is that flower doing here?”

  “I do not know. But I have to take it home with me. I cannot imagine how it survived. But it is the only life left in this house.”

  Tristan stepped forward, taking Evyette in his arms, as silent tears rolled down her face. Tears not just of sadness, but of longing. Longing to know of her past, of who she was. Longing to fill this empty void inside of her that she had managed, until now, to ignore.

  With his arm around her, he began walking her back to the entryway of the home, where she stopped once again in front of the stone fireplace. She held out the flower for him to hold and he took it without question. Evyette knelt down, examining the stone around the opening and the metal pieces among the ash. Dusting away some ash that was caked onto a metal bar, she pulled the tongs out from in front of the hearth and tossed them to the side, listening as it clanged against a row of stones at the bottom of the foundation. She slapped her hands together trying to dust them off when another piece caught her attention. She pulled the metal piece from the hearth and began picking off the caked on ash to discover the poker.

  There she was, lying on a pile of blankets a few feet from the fire. Close enough to keep her warm but far enough to where she wouldn’t get hurt. She looked up to find her own honey colored eyes staring back at her, but they were filled with a sadness she could not comprehend.

  “It is time,” she heard the voice say. The eyes looked back at her once more, an angelic smile joining them.

  “I love you, Evyette. My remarkable fae. Remember that, when you think of me.” There was a weightless feeling as Evyette was lifted off of the ground, and pressed to the body belonging to the honey colored eyes. She smelled of rain and cherry flowers and there was a need to be with her. She pulled back giving that smile once again and touching her face. She handed her to another and she began to cry.

  “Shh, Shh, my sweet. You will be alright. You will be well taken care of, I promise you that.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she still managed to keep her smile, and a new face appeared. She was familiar, with light blue eyes which cried also, and was surrounded with dark hair.

  There was a kiss on Evyette’s cheek, some words mumbled in a language she could not discern, and then a sudden emptiness. An emptiness that the loudest cry could not satisfy.

  “I am sorry, Evyette.” It was the blue eyes that spoke this time. So many tears. She laid her down again on the floor but this time when she did, there was someone beside her. It was the honey colored eyes. But this time they were empty and looked past her. Her gaze was shifted again to the blue eyes that could not hold her tears. “This is for the best.” She whispered to Evyette as a searing pain enfolded her. White hot pain from which there was no escape.

  Evyette dropped the poker, jerking her hand away and shakily holding it up to examine her wrist. Her breathing had increased tenfold and although she could hear the voices of Tristan and Kaleb and the others, it was almost as if they were in another room. She looked once again at the poker on the floor and to her wrist, mentally examining the size and angle of the poker against the scar tissue that lay across her wrist.

  “Evy!” The voices got closer, “Evyette! Answer me!” It was Tristan. He held her up as her legs gave out and she shook profusely. She looked at him, watching his lips move, wanting to answer but no sound would come out. Then looking at the others, they all looked like they were moving in slow motion.

  “This is it.” She managed.

  Everyone falling silent at once.

  “She died here. My mother. She died here.” Her voice shook, and she was holding on to Tristan so tightly that bruises were forming beneath her fingers.

  “Evyette,” Magister Torin knelt next to her. “What did you see?”

  “I saw my mother. She said she had to. She said I would be alright. And there was someone else. She did not want my mother to go, I know she did not. I felt it. Then she said it was for the best.”

  “What was for the best, Evy?” Tristan brushed the hair away that had stuck to her tearstained face.

  “This.” She held up her wrist flashing her seared crest.

  Silence hung in the air, weighted with unanswered questions that no one dared to ask. Evye
tte curled up onto Tristan, replaying the vision over and over in her mind, desperate to never forget the eyes. The way they looked at her, the sound of her voice, and the smell of cherry flowers.

  The Magisters and the guards walked to the gate, leaving Tristan, Kaleb, and Evyette for a few moments.

  Without a word, Evyette took one last look at the piece of metal that lay before her, forever having changed her life.

  Kaleb put out his hand for her to hold onto while she stood, Tristan carefully standing with her. He held out the flower with a smile. She smiled back, wiping the wetness from her cheeks, and taking the flower back into her hands.

  “We should go back to the inn.” Ithor called out to all of them, pointing to the large black clouds that had rolled in.

  Evyette reached the end of the walkway and took one last look before walking through the gate.

  “What is wrong?” Kaleb asked, noting the suddenly perplexed expression on her face.

  “My mother. Whoever else was with us must have taken her somewhere before she returned to the earth.” Evyette concluded, noting that there was no tree sprouting through the foundation. “We have to find this woman,” she paused turning from the foundation and facing the others. “She is the only one who can tell me who I am and what happened,” she finished, a new look of determination on her face and resolve in her voice.

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  Chapter 6

  Maligo looked around the room, surveying the audience that so attentively listened to Samil. The Dorchae stood shoulder to shoulder, filling this cavern deep beneath the mountains. It had taken them days to find them, but they had been well received. He was taken aback by the still standing loyalty they had toward Samil.

  He looked them over. They were large in stature and their large shoulders hunched forward. They possessed bulging yellow eyes and pig-like snouts. They were horrid to look at, but could create weapons like no one he had ever seen.