Nateldorth was dressed in his finest ceremonial robes; Linaera had requested a robe from the mage school. It was a mixture of colours—a kaleidescope of reds, blues, silver, and most of all: a bright, iridescent green. Linaera felt it best represented her. Of course, the colours being so non-standard, it had annoyed the seamstresses greatly.
The square was silent; even the wind did not dare intrude on the proceedings. An Arch Mage quietly intoned the formalities of the duel. When he was finished, Nateldorth looked at her: there was power in those eyes, and Linaera knew Nateldorth would not make it too easy for her. Nor did she want him to. She may have won the moral battle, but the duel was a test of magic, and she intended to prove herself.
The Arch Mage raised his hand. He dropped it. The duel began.
Nateldorths’s attack was immediate and blistering: the world around Linaera exploded in fire. The flames bounced off the wards that had been erected around the square, but they would have engulfed her in fire.
Except they didn’t. Around her, the fire glowed blue. Linaera scarcely understood how she was capable of doing what she did—it seemed as if the fire were obeying her will, as if it belonged to her.
Her first counter was ostentatious, a show of force. Ethereal blue fire gathered around her; it made its way slowly, almost mockingly, but it was unstoppable. Nateldorth’s wards shook at the strange onslaught she had thrown.
Whispers sprang up through the mages. Custom dictated that the duel be silent; but no duel of the Great Mages had ever seen faerie magic.
Nateldorth hit back hard. Thunder, fire, and shockwaves tore through the arena. Once more, however, Linaera’s counter was subtle, almost invisible. She did not need exert her full power to defend herself; her power was of a greater sort than that.
So that’s why mages fear the fae, she realised. It was a power unlike any other.
Of course, Linaera could do more ordinary magics as well. The thunder, fire and shock that she returned were ordinary—even unskilled by the standards of the contest. But they held power; indeed more power than Linaera had ever believed she could muster.
Nateldorth countered them, of course. He was still the Great Mage.
Then he came up with a cunning attack. The first round was ordinary—a combination of fire and electrics. But then Nateldorth sprang forward; he began glowing with power. He barreled straight through her wards.
At that moment, Linaera saw the past. She saw the bright day, the stony glares of Nateldorth’s allies, and knew how her father had been defeated.
Nateldorth stops right in front of her. The implication was clear: he could have killed her if he wished.
But he was wrong. Linaera smiled. Then she moved.
With lightning speed, she grabs hold of him. Although Nateldorth was burning with concentrated power, and would have incinerated a normal mage, Linaera manages to avoid that fate. She did not quite know why: perhaps her faerie nature allowed her. Or perhaps a darker power aided her in that moment – a vestige of Neshvetal’s magic, given from beyond the grave.
In the end, it didn’t matter. All the mages knew was that Linaera had Nateldorth on the ground. She sprang back, and bowed. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Deriën smiling at her.
“I declare Linaera Tel’Aria the victor.” The Arch Mage made sounded surprised. Linaera didn’t blame him. Here she was—a nobody, in their eyes. Barely a few months ago she had been an apprentice. Now, she she had defeated the Great Mage.
Of course Nateldorth was not yet at his full power. But on the other hand, he had done his best, and Linaera had clearly beaten him. She was a worthy replacement.
It made her heart sing; it made her proud. Linaera did not believe she had mastered her faerie power, but that did not matter. At that moment, she had proved to the world that her right to rule was indisputable.
***
Later that day, in a ceremony attended by the nobility as well as by the magery, she was given the robe of the Great Mage.
Many were too shocked to applause. They simply stood, and watched; the nobles looked worried. Many of the mages were positively disturbed. Only her friends cheered her on—Sasha was the loudest of them, though she also spotted Harold, Damon, and of course Deriën in the fray.
Linaera, of course, had no intention of being Great Mage alone. She did not believe herself immune to the corrupting influence of power; for absolute power corrupts absolutely. And besides, she knew enough politics to realise that her rule as Great Mage would be fraught with opposition. Unless, she could find friends.
They had to be loyal to her, trustworthy, and also respected by the wider mage community. They had to be powerful—she couldn’t appoint Damon or Harold, because they were still only common Battle Mages. Her “advisors’ would need to be Silver Mages at a minimum.
I would consider Terrin, she thought to herself, but he lied to me all those years. It was a puzzle she would resolve later, when she familiarised herself with the Arch Magi of the land, and could determine whether they were sympathetic or not. For now, she enjoyed the festivities.
The appointment of a Great Mage was a a once-in-a-generation event, and a very important one. The Great Mage was not the Sovereign of the land, but he or she exerted great influence: a Great Mage could decide the fate of kings and queens, or persuade generals to their will (for the army dared not fight without the backing of the magi).
They also had direct control over the mage academies. Their power was not absolute in all respects—Great Mages could not appoint Arch Mages, for instance, as that would lead to dangerous power struggles—but they could dictate most other areas of policy. It was an awesome power, and an awesome responsibility.
Linaera didn’t know if she was ready for it. She had her convictions, but she turned eighteen in the spring. She had no experience, no backing, and no money aside from the allowance of the Great Mage.
“Hey, Linaera.” It was Sasha who sat next to her at the dinner table, which was hosted at the Great Hall of the mage academy.
She was dressed splendidly: her robes were a magnificent red, and embroidered with gold thread. Linaera knew that Sasha had not yet completed her apprenticeship, but she had survived two confrontations with powerful mages. It was enough to make completing her apprenticeship superfluous.
But then, Linaera realised, she hadn’t completed her apprenticeship either. And yet she was Great Mage. I made history today, she realises.
“Hello Sasha. Your hair looks most splendid,” Linaera complements, and not untruthfully.
“Thanks, Lin, but since when do you talk like that? You might be Great Mage, but I’m still your friend. Don’t forget that.’
“Don’t worry Sash, I haven’t.” She telepathies: But I’m being watched here, and appearances need to be kept up.
Sasha smiles; it is the picture of haughty aristocracy. “I thank you for the compliment, although it is I who should complement you; for you are most beautiful.” Mentally, she said: So how did you do it?
“You are too kind. Alas, I am currently indisposed to knowing the latest fashions.” Didn’t you see? I used faerie magic.
“Oh? But surely I can enlighten you.” What? You’re... fae?
“I would be most grateful.” My mother was fae; my dad was... perhaps I ought not mention that.
“I have family here who are familiar with all the best seamstresses.” Your mother was fae? Wow, Lin; who knew? But who was your dad?
The necromancer.
Sasha almost chokes on her wine. She immediately apologises to the nearby guests for her impolitic; it was a moment of absent-mindidness, she says.
What?! He was your dad?
I didn’t want to believe it, but that’s the truth.
Don’t tell anyone, at least not yet.
Don’t worry; I figured as much.
They finish their dinner. The Great Hall was a work of lavishness—gold lined the walls, and gems glittered on the marble floor. The windows were spectacular: they were v
ast, far larger than ordinary windows. Magi-lights glew everywhere; despite the darkness, the hall was illuminated brilliantly.
The first act I shall do as Great Mage is to strip the gold and jewels from this place, and use it to fund shelters for the homeless. Linaera knew it was a bold first move—but everything about her was bold. She had beaten the Great Mage whilst still an apprentice. Bold was her namesake.
Linaera entertained various interested speakers—some were sycophants keen to ingratiate themselves with the new regime, while others offered sweet words laced with poison. A few, however, seemed genuine. Linaera knew she needed friends, and fast.
Eventually, she called off the dinner, and retired to her rooms. Nateldorth had not yet left the residences of the Great Mage; instead Linaera had procured a different set of rooms, ones that were less lavish and more suited to her tastes.
Deriën was waiting for her on the bed.
***
Moonlight streamed in through the windows, its illumination pale and gentle. Linaera watched Deriën: he was curled up on the bed, relaxed but very much awake.
“Why did I have to befriend you? Why did I have to love a human? I thought you were just an ordinary mage; I never expected that you would be the daughter of a necromancer and a faerie, and a great mage among your people.”
“We all discover hidden sides to those we love.”
“That’s very true; you can be wise, sometimes, Linaera.”
Linaera smiles. “You’re always underestimating me, Deriën.”
“I suppose, now that I think of it more clearly, that we elves as a whole are rather too arrogant.”
Linaera laughs at that. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for a long time.”
A silence dawns on them, as they look at one another in the darkness. Deriën’s touch is gentle—almost afraid.
“I never expected you to beat him, to be honest. He was a powerful magic-wielder—I felt that from where I stood. And you were my Linaera, the human girl I had to protect.”
“I wish I’d discovered my power sooner,” Linaera admits. “So much could have been different. John wouldn’t have died; Gadalthal wouldn’t have died. Maybe I could even have subdued my father and beat some sense into him.” She laughs at that, but bitterly.
“It was not meant to be, Linaera.”
“But it could have been! If only I could have accepted it sooner—accepted my own nature.”
He touches her hair softly. “We have a ritual, among the elves. When one of us is in doubt about who we are, we go to a part of the woods—an ancient, forgotten part, where the trees have existed for as long we have been here on this world. There, we hope to meet with the ancient woses; for they can see into the depths of our soul.”
“You know, I met a wose.”
“Oh?” Deriën sounds surprised at that. “It is not customary for woses to meet with non-elves, except on the battlefield.”
“Do you truly know that, or is that just what some among you wish to believe?”
He inclines his head. “You may be correct.”
“His name was Thuruntel. He warned me of the necromancer, and told me to seek you.”
“Wise advice, it would seem.”
“And yet he told me so little of who I truly was—I don’t understand why.”
“Maybe you were meant to discover it yourself.
“Maybe.”
“In any case,” Deriën continues, “it makes no sense to wonder at what might have been. The question we should ask ourselves is—what next? For us?”
Linaera walks over to the window; the world outside is shrouded in a blanket of darkness, except where the rays of the moon pierce through. It seems like a vast place, the world—a dangerous and unfamiliar reality. But at the same time, Linaera feels hope. It was the future. It could be whatever she made it to be.
“I cannot leave Arachadia, or indeed Dresh, for the time being.”
“I understand; you are Great Mage.”
“Will you stay with me, Deriën? At least until I in a position to visit the elves once more?”
“I will stay with you, Linaera. But I fear my comrades may not allow you back into the northern forests.”
“If they want to stop me, they can try.”
He smiles a little at that. “You were always stubborn like that. But,” he continues, “there is one thing I would like to do.”
“What?”
“My mother; I have not seen her, and... I feel her loss. This human city is so far from home—to think I will be away from the forest, from her, for months? What will she think?”
An idea suddenly seizes Linaera. “Wait a minute; perhaps there is something I can do.” She closes her eyes, and concentrates. She remembes Liená—remembers her will, her beauty, her power.
Liená?
Linaera? Is that you?
It is.
So you have mastered long distance telepathy, I see. And much more besides.
Do you know?
That you are Great Mage? Yes; I know it all. I know that Gadalthal fell. I know that the necromancer is gone from this world. Give me a bit more credit, Linaera.
Inadvertently, Linaera smiles. Your son says he will be back, eventually. He misses you.
He was willing to admit that to you? Hah, maybe he really has fallen for you.
Linaera blushes; Deriën looks at her questioningly.
I will be expecting him. Until then, do what you have to do, Linaera.
Thank you, Liená.
“I’ve told her, but she already knew,” Linaera explains.
Deriën lets out a breath. “Thank the forest gods. Then with you I shall stay, oh human maiden.”
Linaera smiles at that. “Is that so, my fair elf?” She kisses him, then. They embrace one another, human and elf.
“Do you think we will have children?” Linaera asks.
“I should hope not. They will be part elf, part human, and part fey.”
“And all joy,” Linaera adds.
“If you say so, my lady,” Deriën replies. Then he kisses her, and they speak no more.
Excerpt from the Ark, Alex Stargazer’s upcoming novel.
PROLOGUE
The moment when everything changed was one we always foresaw.
Much had gone into driving us where we were now. Casey—the boy I fell in love with—holds my hand, nervously. I am just as nervous as he; though I have been Selected. By whatever moral or social right the Selecting Commission possessed, I had been chosen to live while others had been left to their fates. It was a bittersweet feeling.
The Selecting Commission, it is said, is a cruel arbiter of Fate. Me, they had chosen; Casey, they had not. Our love did not matter. To them, we were a number and a piece of paper—and no more.
‘Do you think they’ll fall for it?’ Casey asks. His blue eyes bore into mine. From the start I had gotten lost in those eyes. They held the promise of the sea: wild, beautiful, and yet approachable. Now they hold so much more than that. Now—they hold a truth. He is my soulmate.
‘Kaylin is good at what she does,’ I offer. ‘Besides: what else have we got?’
It’s true. It wasn’t easy getting into the vast, screaming monstrosity above us. They call it the Ark. It had been built over decades, the fruit of trillions spent and many a life dedicated. Its thrusters keep it poised in the stratosphere—and no lower, since it’s vast.
It overwhelms the sky above; a gleaming white monolith in a sky of ethereal blue. The noise is tremendous. Soldiers mill below, along with us. The Selected—and the impostor.
‘ID?’ a soldier asks. I cannot see him behind his helmet and armour—both of which are obsidian black. I know, deep down, that he is human just like us. Maybe he’s not even Selected. But maybe it wouldn’t matter; if they discover our deception, no blind eyes would be turned our way.
Casey kisses me then. It is a brief kiss—but in his warm lips I feel a determined passion; a strength of will, to live. Or to die. It was
not a will to live, but something greater: the will that only love can give.
Love. It drove us to greatness. It drove us to madness. One thing was clearer than all else: it was real. As real as the fire in his lips, the vast emotion held in the depths of his eyes, and the softness of his hands against my hair.
The kiss is brief. Too brief. Then Casey grabs his ID—likely the best fake ID this side of a ticket to heaven—and seals our fates.
But in truth, had our fates not been sealed long ago? Had I not begun the road well-paved the moment I lay eyes on him; the moment I told myself that, no matter what, I would be with him?
The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Then again, so is the road to heaven. I did not know whether it was heaven or hell that we were destined for; all I knew was that I loved him.
I remembered, then. The moment I first met him; the moment I fell in love with him...
Enjoyed reading this preview? See Alex’s website (alexstargazer.blogspot.com) for more...
OTHER WORKS BY ME
The Sandman
He is the thoughts you wish you didn’t have. He is magic; he is fire, and unleashed desire. Meet him and you will never be the same again.
Read now—FREE
The Ark
Two boys falling in a love. A world falling apart. And one chance to escape it all...
READ EXCERPT NOW
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Firstly, I must thank my readers. You have been the most patient followers; and I have no doubt you will be the most faithful and uncritical. I will not claim you are the sole reason for my writing – but you sure are one that counts.
Thanks also goes to my former English teacher Mrs Doubleday, for daring to read and to critique.
The same also goes to Miss Clayton, for being the optimist; and to my primary school teacher Miss (Mrs?) Pike for your indefatigable efforts in teaching me this most quirky of tongues. It is unlikely that you are reading this, but acknowledgements are there for writers to indulge in.
The Necromancer: New Edition: Republished 2016 Page 36