The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal)

by Beam, Brian

  Briscott was right, though. From our time spent in the Black Magic District, I knew it to be a huge place. Auslin itself was the biggest city I’d ever seen at this point, at least twice the size of Byweather. The Black Magic District had proven to be the size of a small city in itself. There was no telling where Ulys could’ve taken Til’ in the miles upon miles of its streets and alleyways.

  We stepped out of the narrow alley, the freezing rain coming down in sheets on the smooth-paved roads of Auslin. As with the rest of the city, the roads in the Black Magic District were made from some sort of reflective gray stone. Though it appeared to be slick, my footing was just as sure on its wet surface as if it had been dry. The white light of magic-infused streetlamps cast our distorted reflections across the street.

  Looking around to make sure I had my bearings, I started off down the street at a light jog, with Briscott close behind. It appeared that we were just about the only ones stupid enough to be out in the cold downpour. The squat stone buildings of the Black Magic District were merely silhouettes dotted with the orange squares and rectangles of lighted windows, like fire-eyed demons watching our every move.

  We mostly kept up our pace, having to stop at a few intersections to examine the rounded stone markers that identified the streets. The markers, thin and tall, were unique to Auslin. Names of streets were vertically etched into the stone and glowed white to always be visible, even at night. The pouring rain prevented us from being able to read them at a distance, however.

  “This blighted rain is going to be the death of us,” Briscott said as we stopped at another intersection. According to the stone marker, Mountain View Street was to our right. If not for the dark sky and the rain, the Glacial Mountains would’ve been visible in the distance from where we stood. To the best of my memory, we were fairly close to Charms for Harm, only a half mile more or so.

  We were both soaked to the bone, our cloaks too heavy from the rain to even flap in the strong wind. My fingers were numb, and my every muscle quivered from the cold. I mentally made a note that with winter just around the corner, I needed to invest in a fur-lined cloak—specifically an oiled sheepskin cloak to keep me dry—and some gloves.

  “Simoara must have it out for us,” I replied as I turned down Mountain View Street, gesturing for Briscott to follow. Simoara is the goddess of rain, and even with my lack of religious belief, I was cursing her in my head. “When we do freeze to death, remind me to give her a stern talking to in the afterlife.”

  If Briscott laughed, I couldn’t hear it over the rain and our slapping footsteps on the wet stone beneath our feet. He probably hadn’t found my joke very funny, given his strong beliefs. I may have been able to keep myself from directly insulting his faith, but a lifetime of skepticism in my own religious views was hard to keep completely hidden.

  Ahead, I could see the lighted letters of another stone marker on a street corner bathed in the white light of a streetlamp. A dark shape blurred by the rain was approaching the same intersection from the opposite direction. I thought nothing of it until the shape stopped in the light, facing towards us as we neared.

  “Are you Korin?” the person called out. The voice was decidedly male, youthful in tone.

  I drew to an abrupt halt, with Briscott stopping just at my side. I squinted my eyes as I looked in the figure’s direction. He was dressed in a tabard that hung to his knees—half black, half blue—with the bottom split up the middle as if made for horse riding. Some kind of reflective emblem or patch rested on his upper-right chest. Beneath the tabard he wore a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants. His hands were covered with black gloves, his feet with black boots. A wide belt fitted with several pouches encircled his waist. His face was hidden beneath a dark cowl despite the white light emanating from the streetlamp. In all actuality, if not for his calling out to me and the light of the streetlamp, he could’ve blended into the shadows of the oncoming night and I would’ve never noticed him.

  For a moment, I just stood there dumbly, not knowing whether to reply or not. He’d known my name, but that didn’t make him friendly. There’d been enough people who’d meant to harm or kill me in recent months to allow me a justified bit of paranoia.

  “Who’s asking?” I called back, sliding my hand down to my sword hilt and unbuckling the leather strap that held it in place with my thumb. In my periphery, I could see Briscott’s hand lower to a dagger sheathed at his hip.

  The figure stepped forward, standing fully in the lamplight. That’s when I noticed that the rain didn’t touch him. His clothes were dry, the raindrops splashing against some kind of invisible barrier. This man was a wizard.

  “Grayson Huin of the Wizard Guard,” he called over the rain. “I have been ordered to bring you into the Academy.”

  This is where I should’ve just said “okay” and voluntarily let him take me to the Wizard Academy. Hindsight is a bastard, though, and my defenses went up instead.

  “That doesn’t sound good, Korin,” Briscott muttered at my side.

  “No, it doesn’t,” I agreed as Grayson started towards us.

  “Let go of your weapon and come with me,” Grayson ordered, his tone a little too proper for my taste.

  Briscott stepped in front of me. He turned his head, taking me in with one eye. “He’s after you, not me. I’ll hold him back. Run.”

  In moments such as these, you can’t take more than a moment or two to make decisions. In that tiny bit of time, the amount of information your brain can process is astounding. In this case, I first realized that I didn’t know exactly why a member of the Wizard Guard was after me. Then again, whoever had taken Sal’ hadn’t been too happy with me—if their acquisition of all my possessions was any indicator—and I’d just spent an entire day trying to find an illegal means of gaining entry to the Wizard Academy to help my friends.

  I wondered if one of the shady wizards I’d dealt with during the day had sold me out for a few coins or a little favoritism. If that were the case, I could narrow the list of wizards in the Black Magic District who would’ve done such a thing to all of them.

  Finally, I considered that if I were taken into this man’s custody, Til’ and Briscott would undoubtedly come after me and therefore be put at risk. Briscott was already putting himself at risk for my own safety, but as he’d said, Grayson was after me, not him. That meant that even if Briscott held him back to give me a head start, it was doubtful that Grayson would do anything more than push Briscott aside and come after me.

  My decision was made.

  Chapter 22

  Catch Me if You Can . . . Oh, Hell, You Probably Can

  Spinning on my toes, I sprinted towards the nearest alleyway to my left. Behind me, I heard Grayson let out a not-so-proper curse, followed by a wet thud and a grunt from Briscott.

  “Hurry, Korin,” Briscott yelled, his voice just barely audible.

  I turned my head to see Grayson hopping over a downed Briscott and rushing towards me with one hand tucked in a belt pouch and the other held up towards me.

  “Stop, Korin!” Grayson screamed. “Do not make this more difficult than it needs to be.”

  Fat chance of that, I thought, nearing the alley between two squat buildings. Just before I reached it, I felt something whip across the back of my knees, sending me forward to the ground, scraping my hands against the road.

  It wasn’t until I tried to stand that I realized my legs were bound together by an invisible force. Pressure pushed against my legs from above and the sides, likely from magically concentrated air cast by Grayson. Behind me, I saw him walking towards me through the rain. His left hand was still buried in a pouch and assumably grasping whatever he used for his source of magical energy.

  “All right, Korin, now—” Grayson ended his sentence with an “Oof” as Briscott tackled his legs out from under him from behind. Grayson dropped to the wet road, his concentration broken and with it, his spell.

  With my legs free, I jumped to my feet and shot d
own the alleyway. Stone gave way to mud between the two buildings. My boots lacked the traction needed to run through the mud, and I felt like I was losing as much ground as I gained. I slipped and slid, stumbling over a discarded bucket at one point. Between the darkness of the alleyway and the constant wall of rain in front of me, I could only run forward and hope for the best.

  Hope is for the Morynas-blooded dumb. He’s the god of hope.

  The alleyway dead-ended into a wall. Of course, I didn’t see the wall until I ran straight into it and fell back on my ass in the mud. My pride, along with my fear of getting caught by Grayson, got me back to my feet as if nothing had happened. I turned to slip behind the building to my right, assuming that there was walking space behind it. Instead, I ran into its side, falling on my ass for a second time. I didn’t bother checking the other side; the buildings seemed to be built into the wall. I was trapped.

  Even though Briscott had taken down Grayson, he was no match for a wizard. That fact was evidenced as a small, ethereal, white orb lit up the mouth of the alley, floating above Grayson’s hand. He started towards me, and as he did, the orb shot forward so quickly that it appeared to be a white line stabbing towards me. It moved too fast for me to react, but once it reached me, it stopped above my head. It was blindingly bright, and I could barely see anything but white all around me. Whether the orb’s function was to blind me or to keep me illuminated, it was doing its job pretty damn well.

  With nowhere to go and being all but blind, I had very few options. So I went for the one option that didn’t involve running towards the man trying to apprehend me. I turned back to the wall at the end of the alley, thankfully able to see it through the bright light that surrounded me.

  Without a thought of looking back, I took one loping step and launched myself towards the wall. I kicked off of it at an angle with one foot and ricocheted off the building to my right with the other, propelling myself towards the opposite building. I reached out with both hands and narrowly caught onto the eave of its sloped roof, my fingers fighting for purchase on the slick stone.

  The pain in my fingers, both from my weight and the scrapes from being knocked down by Grayson, was excruciating. My fear overwhelmed the pain and allowed me the strength to quickly pull myself up onto the roof. Now out of the alley, the light above me was able to dispersed a little more. Though I was still a bit light-blind, I could actually see enough to not go stepping off of the roof and end the chase with a broken leg.

  The building that I stood upon was of the typical architecture of most every structure of the Black Magic District. The one-story building, including the roof, was made from seamless tan stone, completely unblemished. The roof was slightly sloped, rising up into a rounded peak.

  I assumed that the stone structures in the Black Magic District, as well as all of Auslin, were most likely created using magic. Even if the homes and businesses had been carved from single, large rocks from the nearby Glacial Mountains, they still should’ve had some kind of visible wear from age. That, and I’d never seen any type of stone that matched the appearance of the buildings and roads of Auslin.

  Not wanting to be knocked off the roof by another blast of magic, I ran to the wall that lined the back of the alley. The light stayed over my head and illuminated a fairly large circle around me. Though thankful for the ability to see where I was going as I sprinted through the rain, I realized the true purpose of the light: it would serve as a beacon to Grayson or any other member of the Wizard Guard who was out to capture me. As long as the brilliantly bright light hovered over me, hiding would be difficult. Stupid Grayson.

  Pushing aside my concerns about the light in order to focus solely on escaping, I started running down the wall. Its top was about as wide as my outstretched arms. Closely spaced buildings lined both sides of the wall, their backs seamlessly connected to it with their roofs simply rising away from its edge. The wall seemed to stretch on forever as I sprinted its length.

  The downpour was showing no sign of relenting. Lightning cut silver-blue rents through the sky, the accompanying thunder muting my wet footsteps. Despite the light shining down on me, the near-freezing rain threatened to blind me as it blew into my eyes. If not for my heart speeding from exertion and fear, the cold and wet would’ve been debilitating.

  When I finally reached the end of the wall, I turned sharply onto the last roof stemming from its opposite side. The light above me illuminated another one-story building beside it, separate from the wall and just an alley away. Without the luxury of having time to hesitate, I leapt over the gap without thinking and landed on the next roof. My landing was anything but graceful. My feet planted firmly on the stone, but my forward momentum was too strong, and I tumbled forward, rolling down the slope of the roof.

  As if I hadn’t already been in a panic at being chased by a wizard, here I was tumbling towards a one-story drop. My backpack and scabbarded sword made this a very uncomfortable ordeal. The roof being made of stone didn’t help either. In an attempt to keep myself from a painful—if not fatal—fall to the ground, I flattened out my body, stomach down. My pained fingers clawed against the stone as I tried to stop myself from sliding.

  They failed.

  My body slid from the edge of the roof, my fingers failing to grasp the eave. The light hovering above me illuminated my outstretched arms as my fingers broke free. Time slowed. I could see Grayson running down the wall, a light of his own bobbing above his head, keeping him visible as he neared. I didn’t have very long to think about how he was about to succeed in his chase, me being only a couple of moments away from lying helpless on the ground.

  However, if I believed in the gods, I’d say that one of them had been watching over me. Instead of continuing to fly backwards until I landed on the ground, my back slammed into the wall of a neighboring building. My backpack cushioned the blow as I bounced forward and miraculously landed on my feet in yet another alleyway. The force of such an abrupt landing sent pain shooting through my legs and hips, but nothing felt broken or even sprained. Having landed on the sodden ground of the alley had kept me from injury.

  It took a few moments of being stunned by my fortune to realize that Grayson’s light shone from the peak of the roof I’d fallen from. I hightailed it out of the alley, taking my own accursed light with me. My body violently twisted to the side as if being shoved. I didn’t have to look back to know that I was back in Grayson’s view and that he’d attempted—and failed—to use a magical gust of wind to incapacitate me.

  I did have to look forward, though, to know that there was something ahead of me just waiting to bring me to a crashing halt. Somehow, I noticed raindrops sluicing down the front of some sort of invisible barrier that was just slightly taller than me. Maybe my senses were heightened from panic. Maybe I was just that damn good. I’d like to think the latter is correct.

  Miraculously, I was able to dodge around the barrier without losing traction and careening into it. It was only a couple paces wide, most likely a concentrated wall of air, given that this Grayson fellow seemed to like using air-related spells on me.

  With the narrowness of the barrier, it seemed that whatever Grayson was using to power his magic had limitations. Also, given that I was pretty damn breathless, he had to be nearing exhaustion as well. All I was doing was running, and I was a fairly athletic man. This guy was running and casting spells, the equivalent of running a footrace up a mountain with a live goat strapped to your back. Yeah, it’s a weird comparison, but Max made it once, so I’m sticking with it. If I was nearing the end of my rope, this guy had to be dangling from a frayed thread by two fingers.

  Having passed the barrier, I charged down the street. Before I could swell with the pride of having eluded Grayson’s spell, I felt the air around me grow colder. The rain became sleet and pelted stingingly against my hands and face. In my stupidity, I chalked the change up to the upcoming winter. Why I thought it could be normal for the temperature to abruptly drop and for rain to become s
leet so quickly, I’ll never know. By the time I realized that the sleet was only concentrated in a small area, my feet flew out from under me as they skidded across a sheet of ice.

  I landed on my back, my backpack’s contents jabbing painfully into my flank. The sound of shattering glass came from under me as my lantern broke inside my backpack. My body slid down the street a few paces before landing outside the sheet of ice Grayson had magically created.

  Something seemed off during that single moment I lay stunned on the ground, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. Not one to be kept down, however, I attempted to jump back to my feet and prove to Grayson that his spells couldn’t stop me. My attempt was cut short as my nose and forehead slammed into another invisible barrier just inches above my face. The recoil from the impact knocked my head back against the road. Icy tears stung my eyes. Before you try to judge me, slam your own nose into a wall and see how dry your eyes are afterwards.

  The sleet became rain again, stopping inches from my face and trickling across the barrier holding me down. Then I realized that the lack of rain touching me was what had felt wrong when I'd first hit the ground.

  The light that Grayson had cast above me hovered directly over my face, making it hard to see anything else. As I looked back, I could faintly see another white glow bobbing slowly towards me, Grayson a dark shadow underneath. He was taking his time now that I’d been immobilized.

  I closed my eyes and let out a resigned sigh. Was Til’ okay? Would he and Briscott come after me? What would happen if they did? If I was somehow the only one who could stop Raijom, what would happen if the Wizard Council had me locked away?

  “Don’t move,” a strangely familiar voice hissed at my side. My eyes shot open, and my head turned to see a robed man crouched beside me, his clothing untouched by rain. His hood was raised, but I could see his sunken-cheeked face with its ice-pick nose and recessed eyes. His bony hands were held over the barrier surrounding me. I couldn’t put a name to him, but I recognized him as one of the dozens of shady wizards I’d encountered earlier in the day.