Forgotten Mage

by D. W. Jackson

  “A light,” Bren said, his excitement still holding.

  Carnear shook her head. “No, a light can still be dangerous if built too strong. It can blind or even burn. No, we will head outside, and then you will start with a light wind.”

  “Is that wise?” Cass asked, his voice cold and questioning. “If he plans to close his eyes and do this outside, it would leave him completely open to attack.”

  “That is true, but I don’t fancy having everything in my room blown about,” Carnear said, patting the young man on the cheek. “I am sure that if anything happens, you will more than be able to handle it.”

  Bren had thought that master Carnear would take him to the inner courtyard of the Tower, but instead she took him to the edge of the town. The further they walked past the houses, the more nervous and obvious Cass and Flynn’s movements became. It wasn’t until they were almost a hundred yards from the nearest building that Carnear told Bren to start.

  As he was told, Bren took a seat on the ground and closed his eyes. Within moments, he could picture the flows of magic again. He found it odd that they looked and moved slightly different than they had back in Master Carnear’s quarters.

  As soon as he found the wind, he pushed the other energies away and slowly began to pull the magic into him and reform it. It was much harder than he had figured, as each time he thought he was about to get it, the magic would slip through his fingers and he would have to pull it back. It wasn’t until his fourth attempt, that he had been able to build up enough magical energy to move the small pinwheel that Master Carnear had brought with her, and even then, he had a sinking suspicion that it had been normal wind, and not his doing at all.

  Feeling frustrated, Bren pulled in more of the magic and started to mold it. He was so caught up in his own mind that he didn’t noticed his hair starting to catch in the wind. He didn’t even notice when the wind got so strong that it began whipping his clothes around his body. He did however noticed when a heavy hit knocked him flat on the ground.

  “What was that for?” Bren asked Flynn, as he rubbed the back of his head.

  “Mister Flynn was just doing as I requested of him,” Master Carnear said, a look of disappointment on her face. “I told you, that you must stay aware of your surroundings at the same time you are focusing. If you would have made it much stronger, then wind tunnels would have started forming.”

  “Sorry,” Bren replied sheepishly.

  Fool, place me in your lap. I can help show you how to guide and form the magic. Much better than stumbling around like a blind man as you are now.

  “As long as you don’t spend the whole time insulting me,” Bren replied, as he picked up the staff from the ground beside him, and placed it in his lap. He noticed the worried look that Carnear gave him, but decided to ignore it when she didn’t tell him not to use the staff.

  Closing his eyes, Bren once again found the flow of magic and started pulling it in, much more slowly this time.

  Don’t tug on it like that, just nudge it and let it come to you. Open yourself to it, and then you will just have to direct it.

  Bren tried to just let the Magic flow toward him, but there was too much. When he was simply pulling it, there was only a small amount compared to what now entered his body. Pain flared through him, and he felt a burning sensation in his right hand.

  I swear! You would give the village idiot a run for his money on a good day. I said to let it in, I didn’t mean to let everything in. You still have to keep your walls up and filter what kind of magical energy you let in.

  Bren heard Thuraman’s words, but couldn’t respond. The pain shooting through his body was too great. He cursed himself for forgetting almost everything that Master Carnear had taught him over the past few weeks.

  Fool, stop the flow first and get rid of the excess, then you can wallow in self-pity. That is, unless you want to spend a few more days in the medical ward?

  Using what little bit of strength Bren had left, he placed a barrier between him and the magical flows. Once there was no more magical energy entering his body, Bren pushed the rest into a large ball. Hurting, Bren never opened his eyes to see what he was creating, but at the time he didn’t care. He just wanted to pain to end.

  As soon as the last of the magic left his body, the majority of the pain subsided, but his right hand still itched as if something was crawling under his skin. Opening his eyes, Bren ran his fingernails over the back of his hand and noticed that the pale silver scar wasn’t so small anymore. Now covering over half the back of his hand, and the entirety of his pinky finger, the silver scar shone more brightly than Bren had ever remembered it. Holding his hand up in the sunlight, he was mesmerized by how it seemed to shimmer.

  Bren was shaken from his stupor when he felt something shake his shoulder, hard. Turning his head, Bren noticed Cass standing right beside him, the boy’s face still holding a look of utter disbelief on it. “Yes?” Bren asked in a sleepy tone.

  “Are you ok?” Cass asked, his voice stuck between worry and awe.

  “Hurting a little, but not too bad,” Bren said, getting unsteadily to his feet.

  “Quite a feat master Farlan,” Master Carnear said walking over to him. “Creating a tear in space, though it was very foolish, it did allow you to use all of your magic’s at once. Quick thinking, but still very foolish.”

  From the sound of her voice and the look on her face, Bren couldn’t tell if she was pleased with his actions, or dismayed. He knew that it hadn’t been prefect, and he wasn’t even sure what she was talking about a “tear”, but he had used the magic. Maybe not how he wanted too, but he had used it.

  I wouldn’t get too full of yourself. Your father did that often, and it never ended well for him and he was ten times more skilled at using magic than you are. You were able to channel the magic, but you still lack control and direction. What good is it to use magic if you can’t make it do what you need, when you need it? If you had half the focus your father did, then you could rule the world with that amount of power.

  “I am not my father,” Bren replied to Thuraman, angrily. “And who would want to control the world…I just want to live in it.”

  I don’t need reminded that you are not your father…that is plain to see, though it would seem that you picked up all his bad habits while having none of his good. Both of you could have had as much power as you wished to take, yet neither of you seem inclined to take it. Why do you desire to live among those that you could easily control?

  Bren thought about Thuraman’s words for a moment. Why wouldn’t he want to control the world? As a kid, he had dreamed of being king, but it had been short lived when he learned everything his mother had to deal with. It was one of the few times in his life that he was glad that Farlan passed down nearly everything though the female line. “It would be lonely to stand above everyone,” Bren answered honestly, after a long pause. “If you stood above everyone, then there would be no one to stand beside you.”

  Exhausted from the day’s trials, Bren put up no argument when his guards escorted him to his quarters. As soon as he reached his room, he went straight for his bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes before collapsing on it, quickly falling asleep.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Later that night, Bren was awoken when he heard struggling in the dark. Frantically, he searched for one of the magical lights that adorned each room. As the area was filled with a dim light, Bren noticed that Cass lay on the floor bleeding and Flynn was still struggling with the attacker. Agitated that he hadn’t woke sooner, Bren reached for his sword and prepared to aid Flynn.

  “Stay back fool,” Flynn yelled, having noticed what Bren was planning. “There is no point in us protecting you if you act foolishly.”

  Bren stopped, one foot nearly on the hard floor. His eyes were still glued to the two men wrestling on the floor. Flynn still had his weapon and looked unharmed. Using the hilt of his sword, Flynn brought it down hard onto the back of the assassin
’s head, but it didn’t seem to faze the lithe warrior.

  After the second strike, the assassin grabbed Flynn’s weapon arm and tried to pull the blade free from his hand. Acting quickly, Flynn wrapped his legs around the assassin’s waist and flipped him over so that Flynn was now on top. His hands almost a blur, Flynn turned his blade sideways then yanked up, freeing his weapon arm and plunging the blade straight into the assassin’s abdomen.

  “Bren had seen the beheading the previous day, but that didn’t prepare him for the sheer amount of blood that erupted from the garish wound. Flynn didn’t removed his blade, he simply stood and spat on the screaming man who’s hands grasped feebly at the blade of the sword, trying to pull it out.

  Bren felt all the blood leave is face as his body began to tremble and his stomach turned. Flynn took one look at him and gave a disgusted grunt. “No time for that,” He said spitefully. “We need to get Cassius to the medical mages before he bleeds out.

  Flynn signaled for Bren to grab one of Cass’s arms. Doing as he was told, Bren lifted the young man up, finding him much heavier than he would have thought. It wasn’t long before one of the roaming guards found the two, carrying their dying friend, and quickly called for aid.

  Shocked and dazed, Bren was escorted back to his room by Flynn and three tower guards. He had tried to go with Cass, but Flynn had not so kindly told him no. Bren felt bad, knowing that he had been the cause of his friend’s injury, but upon returning to his room things got much worse. Sae-Thae and a group of medical mage’s were already in his quarters doing their best to save the life of the assassin.

  “Why are you helping him?” Bren asked angrily, trying to push his way to Sae-Thae, but was held back by the tower guards.

  “Bren, the man will die, but when he has served his purpose. We need information, and the only people that can give it to us are the assassins. I would suggest you go back to bed, we will be done shortly and then you will need to rest. I know it had been a trying night, but we will do everything we can to make sure that no harm befalls you or anyone else.”

  “No, if you are going to question him, then I would like to hear what he has to say. I want to know why I am so important that they would send assassins after me,” Bren said, with far more confidence then he felt.

  “I don’t think that is wise,” Sae-Thae began to say, but after looking at Bren, he shook his head and sighed. “I won’t stop you from being present, but I think you should reconsider.”

  I know of some great methods of torture. Your father was always getting himself caught and they do say experience is the best teacher.

  “I don’t plan to torture the man,” Bren said in disgust.

  Fool, do you think that just because you caught him that he will tell you everything he knows. Unlike you, the man is no fool he knows that as soon as he talks he is dead. The only way to get what you want is to make the man think that death is a far better choice.

  “I am sure that Master Sae-Thae knows of other ways to get information, other than using torture,” Bren said, though his words sounded hollow, even to himself.

  Not trusting himself to speak, Bren followed the tower guards and mages into a small room near the top of the Tower. Inside, there were various objects that Bren had never seen before, though from experience he knew that most of them were enchanted, even the chair the man was strapped to, was covered in small gems.

  “First, I would like you to know what is about to happen to you,” Sae-Thae told the man whose face was cold and almost bored looking. “This chair is made so that you will feel three times the pain that you normally would, but at the same time, it will allow you to heal much quicker. We wouldn’t want you to die prematurely on us.”

  Sae-Thae walked over to the small wooden table and ran his fingers over the many different instruments until he picked up a small silver knife with a hooked end. “I haven’t used these in such a long time…I hope I can remember how to do this properly,” the master mage said with a crooked grin.

  “Master Sae-Thae, you’re not going to rob me of my job now are you?” A white haired old man asked, walking into the room. Bren almost didn’t notice the older man, as he stood only slightly above four and a half feet, and had been standing behind one of the massive tower guards.

  “Master Rouma, I had almost hoped that you didn’t get our summons and were still firmly asleep,” Sae-Thae said, with a look of genuine disappointment on his face. “I had been hoping to spend some quality time with our new guest.”

  “I understand the feeling my friend, but we each have our own talents,’ Rouma said, looking up and smiling at the much taller vathari. “Not to mention that the other mages might find it more than a little unnerving if the head master enjoyed such entertainments.”

  “Politics,” Sae-Thae said, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Why must you humans play such games? I much prefer my peoples way of doing it… it might be a tad more bloody, but it seems much more civilized in the end…at least you know who is coming after you.”

  “That is the price of power,” the little man said, taking the small knife from Sae-Thae’s hand. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have someone to talk to.”

  “First off, my we have your name?” Rouma asked the assassin politely. “Don’t worry, it’s not as if we can get much from a name, but calling you “It” and “That” does get a bit old after a while.”

  “Shane,” the assassin replied, his voice filled with hate and contempt.

  “Thank you Shane,” Rouma replied with a short bow “It is good to know that you have a few manners. Now, as you know, I am about to put you through more pain than you can possibly imagine. Right now, you think that you will hold out and tell us nothing, but that is not true. No one holds out forever. You might for a few days, or even a week, but in the end everyone talks…everyone.” Rouma stopped and ran his thumb across the blade of the knife in his hand. “Let us start with the main question. If you answer it, then I will simply slit your throat and you can die a quick and mostly painless death. Why are you after young master Farlane?”

  “Go back to hell you abominations,” the assassin said, spitting onto Rouma.

  “Now Shane, we were off to such a good start. There is no need for such un-pleasantries. I will ask you one more time, and I expect the answer to be in a polite manner. Why are you targeting young master Farlane?”

  “Because you’re all motherless sons of a demon!” Shane spat.

  “I had hoped for a bit of civility, but I guess that was too much to ask for,” Rouma said, plunging the small knife into the bottom of the man’s foot, jerking up and splitting the heel wide open. “Did you know that the foot and hands are some of the most sensitive parts of the body? Yet, if you know what you’re doing, they can be cut and torn without risk of death.”

  Bren was forced to cover his ears as the man’s screams filled the room, as the old mage rubbed some sort of white power into the large gash on the man’s foot. Bren felt as if someone had kicked him in the pit of his stomach, and in less than a few moments of listening to the man scream, he wished that it would end quickly, but that was wishful thinking.

  After more than a half hour of Rouma cutting and pulling the small tendons in the man’s foot, the old mage sat down his knife and placed his hands over the cut. Bren watched as the flesh formed back together, leaving only a tiny pink line, where only moments before, there had been nothing but raw meat.

  “Are you willing to answer now, or at least be polite in your refusal?” Rouma asked as he cleaned off the blade of the knife.

  “I was just told to kill him…Who cares, he’s just a mage,” Shane said in a near whimper.

  “I can’t believe that you don’t have any idea as to why the order was given,” Rouma said with a disappointed glare. “Surely, some of your other friends have talked… Now that I think about it, how many other friends do you have with you?”

  “I can’t tell you that…I won’t betray my comrades,” Shane said, his
face turning to stone again as his resolution grew.

  “We already went over this…Everyone talks,” Rouma said with a sad smile. “But, if you tell me what you really know about why Master Farlane was targeted, I will forget about my need to know how many others there are.”

  “All I was told, was that he had to die,” Shane said, his demeanor slipping a little.

  “But,” Rouma said, leading the man to continue his statement.

  “But, I heard a few of the senior assassins talking. They said they had to stop him before he broke the veil…I don’t know what they were talking about, but they seemed concerned about the mage, more than they normally were about a contract.”

  “Thank you,” Rouma said, placing the knife on the table and picking up a small hammer. “Now, why don’t we talk about how many others came with you?”

  “You said…” Shane said, his face turning white.

  “Did I?” Rouma replied, before slamming the hammer down onto the man’s pinky finger. “It must be my old age…I forget things so quickly nowadays.”

  After Rouma had smashed all five fingers, he grabbed a small knife and made a long slit down each finger. Replacing the knife, he took up a pair of pliers and started yanking the bones from the man’s hand.

  Unable to take the scene anymore, Bren rushed out of the room and emptied the contents of his stomach in the hallway. Flynn was right behind him and Bren expected the older boy to make some pun to his weakness, but when Bren turned around, he noticed that Flynn was as white as a new sheet.

  “I told you that you would not enjoy the questioning,” Sae-Thae said, coming out of the room.

  “I wanted to know,” Bren said, his stomach turning again, threating to empty its contents again. “What is the veil he was talking about?”

  “It is part of the Brotherhoods core beliefs. They believe that magic comes from another land and that the more we use it, the weaker the wall between those two worlds become. Your father was very intrigued by the thought, and was investigating it before he disappeared.”