Magician Prince

by Curtis Cornett

  The cold, calculating voice that often drove the prince told him that he should leave. He should be in his room in case anyone was to show up there and they surely would within a matter of minutes of discovering the king’s death to tell him the tragic news. However, he could not go. On the other side of the wall he could hear his father gently dying in his sleep while his mother lay beside him blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. This was Janus’ dark act and he would be a witness to his own actions. King Kale gave the prince life, and now Janus was taking his father’s life in return. The least he could do was be there for the old man in some small capacity even if he was the only one that knew it. He wanted this memory burned into his brain, so that he would always carry this moment with him no matter how much it hurt or how much he would always hate himself. This would be a reminder when dealing with the magicians of the lengths that he must be willing to go to ensure the future of his kingdom and his crown.

  The coughing slowed after a minute and eventually stopped completely. Queen Wendi was never roused and continued to sleep peacefully beside the body of her husband. Janus had expected that she would wake near the end when her husband’s death throes were at their worst. She would discover her husband dead and call for the guards. Janus would have to race back to his own chambers to beat the guards there and feign being awakened abruptly, but the king’s death was thankfully a peaceful one and that never happened.

  Instead Janus had the time to return to his room at his leisure and think on what he had done. He murdered his father. The thought seemed abstract as he repeated it time and again in his mind. Hours passed and Janus tossed and turned in his bed trying to find a comfortable position that would allow him some semblance of sleep, but the blessed release never came. Guilt kept his brain active and would allow him no measure of serenity that night. “Please forgive me, father,” Janus whispered into the emptiness of his posh apartment. Gods, please let his decision be the right one, because the cost was too high to consider that his choice might have been wrong.

  Chapter 9

  Alia held her daughter and rocked the sweet six-month-old gently soothing her back to sleep. Since the baby was born the enchantress’ life had been filled with sleepless nights, colicky bouts of crying, and dirty, smelly diapers that were in constant need of washing. At times Alia was driven to frustration by the tiny person she and Byrn had created, but as she sat and silently watched her little girl sleeping in her arms she was overcome with a sense of contentment that had eluded her for most of her life and wondered if this was how her own mother felt when holding her so long ago.

  Perhaps that was why she chose to name the child Avelice after her mother. When Alia was fourteen she ran away from home after they had a falling out. Alia was a headstrong girl, who eventually grew into an equally stubborn woman, and got it into her head that they could rescue her father from the magician prison, Baj, but her mother would not even consider the idea. She said she would not allow her daughter to risk her life on such a foolish notion and forbade the girl from even speaking of it any further. Alia failed to understand her mother’s reasoning then, but now she was beginning to.

  Alia put baby Avelice in her crib and tucked her in snugly before taking a short nap of her own. When she awoke Alia found that her daughter was still sleeping quietly and began to pick up around the small house she now lived in within the town of Wolfsbane. It was not an easy decision to make, but in the final months of her pregnancy Alia ceded her waning role as Collective leader to her father and decided to live with the newcomers from Ilipse within the town proper to spend more time with her daughter. Over the last year, she relinquished more and more power to Xander until it was only a formality. She still sat on the council of masters, but with so many new masters from Baj joining their ranks Alia could not help but feel like her voice was no longer heard as it once was. It was a sad thing to give up so much control over an organization that she built and put her heart and soul into, but she would be the first one to admit that she no longer held the burning desire to avenge the tragedies of her life. Her father was free from prison. She had a child to care for. That was all the family she needed or could hope for, and she was content with that. Still it was difficult for her to accept a diminished role among the Collective even if it was mostly self-imposed.

  It was no small task for her to take control of the castle and make it a home for the Collective before such a group ever existed. It required some sneaky enchanting and old fashioned guile to wrest this hold from its previous owner without the kind of bloodshed that would have brought the kingdom down upon her before her dream of a unified group of magicians ever began. It was even more difficult to keep the fact that the castle was filled with magic users a secret from the citizenry as their numbers grew, and once the magicians’ numbers swelled following the rescues at Ilipse and Baj it became impossible. Rumors flowed like water throughout the town and it was Alia who eventually decided to make the announcement that she and those who resided in the castle were all magicians. She stood on top of a stage in the town’s square and talked to the people as the woman who had protected them from the threats of bandit raids that the former lord did nothing to stop and made them prosperous for the last four years by using her magic to enchant favorable deals with many traders and merchants in neighboring cities. She assured them that no harm would come to them from the Collective and that she and her fellow magicians only wanted a place to live in peace.

  Half of the townsfolk left that first day, but she knew such a thing was a possibility and the Collective was ready. Their enchanters made quick work of altering the memories of those leaving so that they no longer recalled Alia’s announcement or had any inkling that there might be magicians in their midst. Then more decided to leave not long after even as more magicians trickled into Wolfsbane of their own accord and once the magicians outnumbered the non-magic users the rest of the original townsfolk left the town altogether. It was a blow to Alia’s ego as a ruler. She had done everything right. She used her magic to help them and protect them, but it was all for nothing. It was the rightful place for magicians to rule over the “lessers,” but that did not mean that they had to be cruel. It was a natural fact of the world that those with power rose above those without. Whether that power was a keen intellect, a warrior’s battle prowess, or magic it should have made no difference as long as the people felt protected.

  If they had stayed it would have meant something. It would have meant that an eventual peace could be reached and maybe her own daughter could grow up in a world where she would not be hated for simply being born. She did not want Avelice to have to fight as she had. Gods willing Avelice would never need to know what it felt like to kill a man, nor ever grow so detached that she took pleasure in the act as Alia once did.

  Now her days were spent caring for little Avelice or tinkering with her enchantments. The magician control collar that had been in her possession for nearly two years still eluded her ability to solve. There was a component that was different from any magic that Alia knew, but she knew that it was only just escaping her comprehension and once she understood how it worked, then she would be able to break its hold over magicians.

  A knock at the door broke her away from her thoughts and she raced to open it before the unwary knocker woke Avelice from her nap. If whoever it was woke her baby, she would rip-

  She hastily opened the door and was greeted by the wizened face of her father. “I hope I am not disturbing you,” Xander whispered, “but I had some free time and wanted to pay my two favorite girls a visit.”

  “Not at all, father. Please come in,” Alia stepped aside so that Xander could enter, “but you may be disappointed to learn that Avelice is taking a nap right now.”

  Xander sat at a small table while Alia poured two glasses of wine in her narrow kitchen. He did not understand why she would choose a house of such modest size when there were larger ones available to her, but he never understood her desire to move out of the
castle either. She tried to explain it to him once, but it was difficult to put into words. The castle and its grounds were so large that it felt impersonal. This place felt like it should be someone’s home. “You are looking well,” the old man observed amicably as he sipped his wine. “Motherhood seems to suit you well.”

  “That is kind of you. We are getting along nicely although sometimes I miss the comforts of the castle. Here I do everything for myself.”

  “You can always come back,” Xander offered. “I have kept your quarters purposefully vacant although that apprentice of yours has been vying for the larger accommodations aggressively… and convincingly.”

  Alia laughed abruptly. “That does sound like Tomlin.” She took a sip of wine and swirled it lightly about the cup out of habit. “Let him have the room and if I ever decide to move back into the castle, then I will kick him back out.”

  “You are a shrewd one,” Xander told her good-humoredly, “I must admit you get that from me.”

  “So how are things going with the Collective?” Alia asked and she was surprised at how frankly curious she really was. She may have handed the reins of leadership over to another person, but there was a part of her that still wanted to be the one that everyone looked to for guidance. A part of her wanted to know that no matter how capable the hands were that held the Collective together that they were not as good as hers. She knew it was a vain desire, but could not help herself from feeling it.

  “We were visited by spies recently,” Xander took another drink and his normally smooth brow became furrowed as his expression shifted to one of concern. “Two Kenzai of modest ability. We dealt with them harshly, but not before taking the time to interrogate them first. Unfortunately, they didn’t know where the intelligence that led them here came from, but it is clear that someone in the kingdom knows or at least suspects that we are here.”

  Alia stopped herself from speaking for a second, but decided to ask the question that came to mind. “Do you think Byrn has anything to do with it?” she asked and immediately feared the answer she might receive.

  Byrn had disappeared more than a year earlier with the Kenzai knight, Kellen, and had not been seen since. The last Alia had heard of Byrn’s whereabouts was from the former orc commander, Zakux Doombreaker, who tried to kill Alia and Tomlin when they went looking for the missing fire master. The orc had told them that Byrn was a demon-sorcerer and that he turned into a terrible fire monster and destroyed most of the city. It was unclear what happened to Byrn after that and her sprite friend, Alphene was only able to track him to Silvering before losing the trail of his essence, but from Zakux’s description of events Byrn was nobody’s prisoner. Her own father, the most powerful necromancer in the world, had tried repeatedly to summon Byrn’s spirit from the underworld without success meaning that he still lived. So why had he failed to return to her? When she first met him, Byrn was a knight-magician under the service of one of the warlords in the west. She did not want to think that Byrn had once more chosen to side with the kingdom over the magicians, but who else knew where the Collective was located? Even Kellen who had been their prisoner had no idea where he was being held. Sadly, the only thought that gave her hope that Byrn had not betrayed them was that he was rotting in a dungeon somewhere while his captors tortured him for information. A chill ran up her spine at the thought.

  “I don’t know, but fear the worst,” was Xander’s answer. He did not care to expand on what he meant by “the worst,” but Alia did not press the matter.

  It was Xander who changed the subject as he finished off his glass of wine. “Sending spies here shows that the kingdom fears us already. It may be time to strike against the noble families and cut off the heads of the hydra as it were. Our numbers are still too small to stand up to the full might of the kingdom if it was arrayed against us, but without unified leadership we can bend them to our will in small patches of territory at a time or crush them into the dust if need be.”

  “No matter the size, the body cannot act without the head driving it,” Alia agreed as she poured some more wine. The body cannot act… Wine poured out over the rim of Xander’s glass as she filled it.

  “Alia?”

  “The body cannot act without the head!” Alia blurted uncontrollably in her excitement. “I thought it was an enchanting spell. A powerful one beyond my ability to understand like an ancient secret of some long-dead grandmaster, but maybe it is something different altogether! I need to speak with one of our manipulation masters.”

  “Alia, try to calm yourself and tell me what you are talking about,” Xander pleaded. He rose to meet his daughter who was bundling Avelice in her blanket for a trip to the castle. The baby was rudely awakened by her mother’s sudden movements and began to cry loudly, but Alia was so distracted that she took little notice.

  “The collars,” she told him barely able to contain the exhilaration that had so suddenly energized her, “I might know how they work.”

  Xander opened the door for Alia and they hurried to the castle as fast as the old man’s bones would take him. The Collective knew that most of the domains had been evacuated long ago and the collars were believed to be what was being used now to hold the domain magicians captive in some as yet undiscovered location. If there was a way to break the spell, then the numbers of the Collective would swell and they could demand the surrender of the kingdom by whatever terms they set.

  ***

  “A spell that could sever the mind from the body-“ Ryonus mused at Alia’s query, “Yes, there is such a spell. I am well aware of it, but it is no master level skill. Anyone with a fair degree of talent in the manipulation discipline could cast such a spell with relative ease.” To Xander he added, “I used that very spell on Mantellus in Baj to make him appear dead.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Xander darkened as he recalled the failed prison break in which the only one to escape was Mantellus Firekin who was thrown into a mass grave, believed to be dead.

  Avelice had settled somewhat since being so impolitely disturbed from her sleep, but she threatened to begin her crying anew at any moment. It was only the rhythmic bouncing of her mother’s knee that kept the child happily entertained.

  Ryonus explained, “That particular spell weakens the connection between brain and body to the point where all voluntary functions cease completely and non-voluntary ones like breathing and the heartbeat are slowed to the point of being nearly undetectable. The effects are slow moving to prolong the effect. The spell takes a long time to activate and wear off, but there are other versions of it that can paralyze the body in an instant, but wear off much sooner.”

  Alia absorbed Ryonus’ words, which rang true with her own ideas regarding how the collars worked. She had seen the collar work several times on test subjects and the effects were not that much different than what Ryonus was describing. “But the collar that we have has been active for at least two years. How could such a spell work indefinitely? I find it hard to believe that the kingdom has a magician that powerful on their side.”

  “It would require either a group of very powerful magicians or…” the master of manipulation fell silent.

  “Or what?” Xander demanded.

  Ryonus shook his head; “It would require a tremendous amount of source energy from humans or other members of the higher races.” His eyes inadvertently shot to Xander, who nodded. “That would mean the siphoning of the magical energies- either directly or through the blood source- of several people to power one collar. If there are hundreds of these collars as we believe-”

  “Then it would require the genocide of a small city,” Alia finished for him, “but that is not the kind of news that could stay hidden for long.” Everyone had heard the stories of Xander’s destruction of Colum from the magicians he freed there. Alia didn’t want to admit that a part of her feared her father for those actions and that was perhaps part of the reason that she felt safer outside of the castle’s walls.

  “Ryonus said ‘higher
races,’” Xander corrected her, “He did not say it had to be humans.”

  “The orcs,” Alia stated showing that she understood her father’s meaning. When she interrogated Zakux he said that entire orc villages had been disappearing along the border with the kingdom. “Did we cause this to happen? Could it be that in an attempt to better control the magician population the king would risk war with the orc tribes to power the creation of their own magical weapons?”

  “Not precisely,” Ryonus examined the collar he held closely, “This one was made before the war started; before anyone in Aurelia even knew the Collective existed.” He looked at Alia in that way he had of casually analyzing things, “It is fortuitous that you created the Collective when you did or the magicians of Aurelia would already be doomed.”

  “Then you can thank me by helping me figure out how to disable this paralysis spell,” She took back the collar and placed it inside of her coat’s pocket.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Ryonus sincerely assured her.

  Chapter 10

  It was the third town that they came across since leaving Mollifas and was no less promising than the ones before. The largest cities in Aurelia were the ones most often attacked by Collective soldiers, but the hysteria was an even more palpable sensation in the small towns that had no Kenzai warriors or any sort of a military presence to even pretend at being protection. They had a militia of farmers and shopkeepers to defend their homes, but they were little more than a collection of men with pitchforks and old, dull swords. If the Collective was to attack one of these towns, there would be nothing left and these people knew it. That was the lesson that Xander Necros taught the kingdom to great effect when he destroyed Colum, a city boasting a populace of ten thousand, single-handedly in the course of a single day. So it was little wonder that they were distrustful of strangers, but knowing that did not make it any easier for Byrn to stomach the looks that people gave them as they rode into town or walked the streets.