Magician Prince

by Curtis Cornett

  Guards were stationed outside of the prince’s room. Byrn was fairly certain that Kennath’s quarters would be somewhere nearby. The younger magician cast a spell of sleep with just his bare hands upon the guards causing them to collapse against the wall and slide down. He then twisted his head this way and that as he read the flow of magic that was invisible to Sane.

  Byrn pointed to one of the doors. “That one,” he said and went to the room placing his hand against the door checking for magical wards.

  Sane was forced to admit that Byrn had surpassed him in every way. He was younger, stronger, and more adept at magic. Byrn could do things that the older sorcerer could barely even comprehend. If only for a moment, a pang of jealousy stabbed at his heart, but he was also very proud of the young man and all he had accomplished. This is my prince, thought Sane, not Janus or anyone else. Byrn would be the next ruler of Aurelia if Sane had anything to do with it.

  Sane followed Byrn into Kennath’s room and they found the magician asleep in a posh bed. While Sane was subjected to torture in the dungeon, this man was living a life of luxury! Byrn was already waking the other magician and telling him of their plan to escape.

  Kennath’s staff was leaning against a dresser. It was long; coming to a man’s shoulder and had a gnarled curl at the top with a crystal imbedded in it. It was a common belief that staves containing jewels especially at their head were more powerful, because the shiny stones could be used to focus their powers. In truth, it was an eccentricity with no real value harkening back to a time long past when magicians ruled the land and such extravagancies were commonplace. Sane picked it up and felt the comfort of once again being able to draw magic and command it to his will without the need of opening up one of his veins.

  The sorcerer left the room and stepped over the still sleeping guards. He stood before the prince’s door and turned the knob. Locked! He pressed a palm against the wood and pushed pure energy into it causing the door to explode inward in a hail of splinters and wooden chunks. The pain of the club crushing his face flashed in his memory as he watched the door explode.

  Janus jumped in his bed. The prince was on his feet with a drawn knife from under his pillow before he was even sure what had awakened him. The guards at Sane’s feet were also startled awake, but appeared much slower witted than Janus whose eyes, glimmering in a dying candle’s glow, confessed fright as they centered on Sane standing before him.

  Sane leveled his staff at Janus and shot a blast of fire at him that the prince barely managed to avoid by diving behind his bed. No simple thing of feathers and linens would be enough to stop Sane’s rage as more memories of abuse surged forth and held him in their power. He remembered the bite of knives and scalpels into his flesh by Janus’ hand or at his command. His head was held underwater in a bucket at times for almost as long as he could hold his breath. There was no point to it. The collar would have forced Sane to answer any question he was asked without the need to hurt him. Janus just loved causing him pain. Sane was a traitor to this man who would be king and there was no point to pretending otherwise. It was long in coming, but now Janus would die at the sorcerer’s hands. Then maybe Aurelia would have a chance and Sane would have his final vengeance.

  Janus’ knife faintly glowed blue as he popped up from his hiding place. Sane should have known that the prince would have been trained in the ways of the Kenzai considering his fear and loathing of magicians. “Come at me, Sane, and we will end this!” shouted Janus, but there was more bluster than bravery in his howl. His knife shook unsteadily and its luminescence faded in and out.

  Another flame blast roared at Janus from the sorcerer’s staff, but this time it caught his right arm engulfing it in fire and causing him to drop the knife. Janus screamed in pain as the fire ate away first his nightshirt’s sleeve and then danced along his arm.

  The prince’s guards were coming at Sane from behind with their glowing swords drawn, brilliant blue lights shined and they were determined to protect their prince. While Janus was just a novice at the skill, these men were masters. All of those who guarded the royal family were known for their abilities as Kenzai and were on par with Kellen in that regard. Facing two of them at close range should have been devastating to the sorcerer and may have been in his weakened state, but Byrn intervened with a hefty gust of wind that caught the men off-guard and threw them skidding halfway down the hall. He was once more wearing the disguise of Baryn.

  When Sane turned back to finish off Janus, he was gone and a hidden door built into the wall was sliding shut behind him.

  Sane slapped his hands against the wall looking for the lever that would open the prince’s escape route. Try as hard as he might, he could not find it. Janus was getting away! “No!” the sorcerer bellowed his disbelief. He could feel the stone’s stoic essence and commanded it to clear a path with such rage that the wall shattered as if it was made of thin glass.

  A horn sounded the alarm from somewhere nearby.

  “A hundred Kenzai warriors will be upon us in a matter of minutes,” Kennath told them.

  Byrn nodded. To Sane he said, “We have to go.”

  “I can still catch him! He has to die, not just for me, but for you too,” Sane pleaded with Byrn for understanding, “Go without me. I don’t care if I die, but Janus has to as well.”

  “If you kill Janus, then you doom us all,” Byrn grabbed him by the shoulders and held him so that Sane could clearly see his eyes. “I have risked everything already just to guarantee your freedom. Do not throw it all away in a moment of rage.” Everything? What did Byrn mean by that?

  Janus’ guards returned, blocking the magicians’ only way out. Sane’s body ached from exertion and the prolonged torture sessions that had become an inevitable part of his life, but he was loath to give Kennath back his staff. He could not be defenseless again. “We will fight our way out,” he told the others and was shocked by the weariness that came from his own voice.

  Byrn created a barrier that blocked the doorway. “Go to the window,” he commanded and Sane and Kennath readily obeyed. The stone around the window shifted away at the young sorcerer’s command until there was a gap in the wall large enough for all three men to jump out of… and straight to their deaths two hundred feet below. “No time for the stairs, but I have another way for us to get down. This is a variation on the fire golem spell,” Byrn told them and then added under his breath, “I’ve never tried this with two people before.”

  Sane expected to be surrounded in a cocoon of rock or dirt, as he had been when Byrn whisked him away from the orcs in Everec. Instead Byrn grabbed him tightly around the waist and did the same with Kennath. “Jump!” he shouted, but neither man obeyed, failing to understand the logic in their savior’s command. Instead, Byrn hauled them both over the edge and into the open air.

  Kennath screamed in fright, but Sane managed to hold his fear at bay, trusting that Byrn knew what he was doing. By the gods, he hoped Byrn knew what he was doing.

  Wings of flame, each one twice the length of a man, sprang from Byrn’s back and he flapped them in an attempt to gain altitude that was only marginally successful. Heat gusted below them with each flap providing extra lift as their descent slowed and they began to chaotically fly like a wounded bird.

  A fortuitous gust of wind swept them up into the air and the trio of wizards soared on the wings of fire even higher. Flying was a simultaneously liberating and terrifying experience and Sane found himself looking down on the castle grounds as they quickly flew overhead. A mad laugh burst from his lips and he wondered if this was some fantastic dream. They began to descend towards the castle’s protective wall and sailed over it easily before coming to a landing some distance away. Byrn’s wings evaporated into the air and the streets suddenly seemed very dark for their absence.

  “You’re the Firehawk,” Kennath pointed at Byrn. “I had heard rumors from across the Great Sea that the Firehawk had returned to save the dwarven magicians, but put no faith in it.” />
  “I helped the dwarves,” Byrn admitted, “just as they helped me to get back here. There will be plenty of time for that later, but first we need to get out of the city.”

  Byrn led them for some time until Sane was well lost within the warehouse district of Mollifas, but the older sorcerer followed his younger counterpart without question in part because he feared that if he stopped to think or rest even for a moment he would not be able to get his old bones moving again.

  “Are you alright, sorcerer?” asked Kennath, but there was a hard edge to his tone that warned Sane that Kennath’s concern was more for himself than for Sane. If he were to slow the younger magicians down, then Kennath would not hesitate to abandon him. “Perhaps I should hold that for you,” he reached for the staff and Sane pulled away reflexively.

  “Back off, Kennath,” Byrn told him flatly.

  “Not to be ungrateful, but, Firehawk or not, why should I listen to you, Baryn?” Kennath asked. After clearing the castle gate Byrn had done away with the old man disguise, but Kennath knew the young sorcerer by no other name.

  Byrn smirked to himself, “Feel free to go your own way,” but Kennath decided to follow the sorcerers, at least for a little while longer.

  Soon, they reached an old, abandoned warehouse and Byrn led them inside. The building was mostly empty except for a small pack of supplies that Byrn had stashed there a few days earlier. The pack contained some fresh fruits and jerky along with several changes of clothes. Byrn gave out the clothes to his companions and some of the fruit to Sane.

  “Eat up,” he said, “We need to be on the move soon before anyone realizes that we are no longer on castle grounds.”

  Sane thanked him and hungrily took a bite of an apple. He nearly wolfed it down to the core. Something seemed wrong. There was something missing, but Sane could not put a finger on what that might be. Sari! His heart skipped a beat in worry. “Byrn, where is Sari? Is she alright?”

  “She is well,” Byrn told him, “but Sari decided to stay with her own people. She said it was time that she remembered how to live as an elf. Our war is not her war and her people need her now. Shatala is ill.”

  Sane nodded. “Sari was young for an elf when I first met her and that was nearly forty years ago when she decided to follow me to the world of humans. She has spent more time among our kind than she has her own people. Perhaps it was time for her to return.”

  Byrn pulled a wooden rune from one of the packs and placed it in Sane’s open hand.

  “This is the rune that I made for her long ago so that she could return to the Red Tree Clan,” Sane said eyeing the wooden chip.

  “Sari asked that I give this to you once you were rescued,” explained Byrn. “I can finish things in Aurelia. I even have the backing of the king and queen to find a peaceful solution assuming your attempt on Janus hasn’t change their minds.”

  “That is what you meant when you said that you risked everything to save me,” deduced Sane. Byrn nodded.

  The old sorcerer felt spent beyond his years. He was in his mid-sixties now and only had another decade or two if he was lucky. Byrn did not truly need him. Perhaps he should retire to the elven kingdom and live out his days-

  Kennath snatched the wooden rune from Sane’s open palm and grabbed the staff at his feet. “If you’re having second thoughts, I’ll be glad to take it,” Kennath laughed and vanished from sight before either of the sorcerers could react.

  For a long time nothing was said, then Sane smiled wanly, “I guess the decision has been made for me. For a moment, I seriously considered using it, but in a way I am glad. It would be a shame not to see this through to the end.” He stood up and stretched his weary bones. “We should purchase passage east.”

  Byrn pulled a short stick from a pack and gave it to Sane. Power pulled from the sorcerer into the object and he looked at Byrn, “What is this?” It was like a traditional staff, but so much smaller that it could be hidden up a magician’s sleeve.

  “It is a wand used by the dwarves. Can you imagine them using a staff as a human would? The thing would be far too cumbersome to be properly wielded.”

  Sane flicked the wand with his wrist and an icicle appeared at the end and fell to the floor. “It will take a little getting used to, but I thank you nonetheless, Byrn.”

  The younger man nodded in appreciation and fished around for a few coppers from his pocket and cast an illusion on them so that they appeared to be gold coins instead. “This should get us far from the city, but first I have a friend to collect. He should have been here by now.”

  “Who is this friend?”

  “A boy by the name of Kaleb. He is an orphan from Colum who I crossed paths with recently.”

  “Is he a magician?”

  “No, just a boy in need of help.”

  After collecting up the packs, they headed to the inn where Byrn and Kaleb had been staying. The plan had been for Kaleb to meet them at the warehouse, but he never showed. Byrn was worried, but he did his best to hide his concern.

  After a few minutes Sane asked, “What do you think the Red Tree elves will do to Kennath when they find him in my place?”

  “They do not take well to surprises or unexpected visitors. He is probably already dead,” Byrn answered showing no concern. His thoughts were still with the boy.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Sane told him in agreement.

  Chapter 7

  The inn was completely dark when Byrn and Sane arrived. It was to be expected since the moon still ruled in the sky and morning was hours away, but the quiet and overwhelming darkness left Byrn with an ominous feeling. The door was barred at night, but it was of little concern when he could move the bar on the other side with a thought.

  The door opened without complaint and the sorcerers entered to find the common room in complete darkness. The growl of Sane’s stomach as he looked longingly towards the kitchen broke the silence in the otherwise empty night. He sheepishly grinned at Byrn who was unsure whether to be annoyed or humored by the old man at the moment.

  The second floor was no different and Byrn held his breath as he turned the knob to his room. Kaleb could have overslept. It was very late after all and he was a young boy. No doubt he was not used to waking at odd hours or staying up late as an adult would be. It was in a magician’s nature to be untrusting and paranoid, especially in these difficult times. It was how most of them managed to survive outside of the kingdom’s control. Still even knowing that it was probably all in his head, it was difficult for Byrn not to trust those instincts. He was about to tell Sane to be ready for anything when he noticed the wand held at the ready in the old sorcerer’s hand. They nodded to each other and Byrn pushed the door open.

  The room was as dark as the rest of the inn had been except for a few rays of moonlight that made their way in through the windowpanes. Kaleb sat facing the door and a man wearing a brown traveler’s cloak stood above him. The boy was bound to the chair, but the man held a knife pointed downward where Kaleb’s neck and shoulder intersected.

  “Byrn Lightfoot, it is an honor; an honor to bring you to justice that is. You don’t remember me? That is ok. You were asleep the last time I saw you. My name is Donovan Pommel and I was once a ranger captain under the service of your mother in Everec.” His voice was even as his Kenzai masters would have taught him. He took the sir name of Pommel as an apprentice to the Kenzai Order. Their names were determined by their mastery within the Order similar to magician titles with Pommel being the title of an apprentice up to Bladepoint or the master rank.

  He continued, “I thought it was you that day in the streets when you saved this boy, but I couldn’t be sure until now. You hadn’t used any magic, but I could feel the energy coming off of you then just as it does now. It is unmistakable.”

  “This is the man who stabbed your mother,” Sane whispered.

  Byrn nodded, but made no action. Donovan was too close to Kaleb. Byrn could not react quickly enough if Donovan decided
to kill the boy and any rash action could prove to be deadly. “What do you want?” Byrn asked.

  Donovan pounded his boot on the floor in two quick strikes and several doors flew open in response. Kenzai flooded out of the rooms until the hallway on both sides of the magicians were thick with them. “I want your immediate surrender for the boy’s life. Throw down your staves.”

  Byrn removed his cloak and let it fall to the floor. Holding his arms out to the side so that Donovan could see clearly in the dim light, Byrn told him, “I am unarmed.” He looked to Sane and the elder man held out his arms in the same fashion, but did not remove his cloak. The wand was safely tucked back into his sleeve while all eyes were on Byrn.

  “I am as well,” Sane told Donovan.

  “You have done well,” a voice behind Donovan told him in approval before stepping out from the shadows. “I would expect no less.”

  “Kellen.”

  Sane pushed his way past Byrn into the room to confront his former friend. For three decades Kellen and Sane had been among the closest of friends. They fought together during the Magi Rebellion in the Mainor Mountains and were instrumental in securing a peace with the dwarves that lived there, but their friendship ended when Kellen chose to side with the kingdom over Sane and delivered the sorcerer into the hands of Warlord Nightwind who then sent him back to Mollifas and Prince Janus. Ever since then Sane lived as a slave and served the kingdom as a seer and trainer of Janus’ magician army in between the prince’s torture sessions. “Would you put me back in chains so soon, Kellen, after I just escaped them?” He made no attempt to hide the indignity that could be read in the shine of his one good eye in the sparse moonlight, the way he held his chin high in defense, and the tensing of his muscles in the baggy clothes Byrn had provided. The old sorcerer was ready to fight and may have even welcomed the opportunity.