The Bowl of Souls: Book 05 - Mother of the Moonrat

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Let me first show you our most recent capture,” Valtrek said and he snapped his fingers. The ceiling above them shuddered and in the cell directly across from Fist, a steel-barred cage lowered down from above.

  Sitting in the cell on a thin cot was a dark haired woman in a black robe with a blue hem. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks tear-stained. She glared at them balefully and shouted something, but there was no sound.

  “Mage Lolly!” Justan said in surprise.

  “Ah, you know her?” Valtrek asked.

  “I sat with her in Professor Auger’s class at the beginning of my second year. I didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice.” She had a knack for replying to Auger’s questions in such a way that everyone in the class knew she was making fun of him, but he never seemed to notice, he added to Fist.

  “I cannot hear her,” Jhonate said, standing next to Justan. Her hand was resting against his in a casual manor, but Justan was keenly aware of her touch.

  “This area was designed to hold those with elemental magic,” Valtrek explained. “It cancels out their power and at the same time muffles all light and noise outside the cell. To her, we are all blurs right now.”

  “How did you know she was in league with the witch?” Jhonate asked.

  Valtrek looked at Professor Locksher.

  “Oh, Vannya was the one who identified her,” Locksher said.

  Vannya gave them a proud smile. “I noticed that Lolly was spending a lot of time standing near the doorways leading to my father’s offices. She never went down the stairs, but she did peek inside the doors and she always had her hands inside the pockets of her robes when she did it.

  “I decided to keep an eye on her and saw her going through some old maps in the library. So I procured Professor Locksher’s help and we decided to follow her. She was very cautious but we saw her leave her room after hours and open an old passage.”

  “I knew where the passage led,” Locksher said. “It was a back way to this very tunnel. So we took a faster route and were waiting for her when she came out on the other end.”

  “She had a moonrat eye in her pocket,” Vannya said proudly. “A green one.”

  “But wouldn’t the witch have seen you capture her spy?” Willum asked.

  “She wasn’t touching the eye when we grabbed her,” Vannya said. “And we were very careful not to touch the eye ourselves.”

  “But wouldn’t she still see with it?” said Wizard Munsey.

  “Not with a green one,” Jhonate said. “She can use the green eye to enter the mind of someone who is holding it, but she can’t see out of it. Only the orange eyes have that power.”

  “And how do you know this?” Munsey asked.

  “I have some of the witch’s memories stored in here,” she replied, touching one finger to her temple.

  “Ah,” Valtrek said, gazing at her with interest. “If it is possible, I would like to speak with you some time about this information.”

  “Of course,” Jhonate said.

  Valtrek snapped his fingers and Lolly’s cell rose back into the ceiling. “The other two prisoners were discovered by Beth when we had her listen to those of us that needed to know the secret of our plan to evacuate the academy.”

  He snapped his fingers again and the two cells to the right of Lolly’s lowered from the ceiling. The man in the first cell was dressed in worker’s clothes and curled up on his cot staring blankly forward, drool running out of the corner of his mouth.

  “That’s Jeffrey, the stableman.” Justan said and Fist could tell that he was saddened by the revelation. “I’d been wondering why he wasn’t with the horses.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad,” Valtrek said. “I always liked him. Still don’t know how long he had the eye. It was in his pocket when we searched him. He hasn’t spoken a coherent word since we took the eye from him.”

  The occupant of the second cell had everyone’s attention by then. He stood with his right hand grasping one of the bars, his left hand clenched into a fist. He wore a silken black robe richly embroidered with golden runes. His face was twisted in anger and he tapped his foot impatiently.

  “Master DeVargas!” Locksher said. “But why is he here? I thought he was out doing research when Ewzad Vriil attacked the academy.”

  “Beth pointed him out right away. The prophet had us search his apartments and we found a moonrat eye,” Valtrek said. “We couldn’t tell people what really happened to him. It would have been all over the school and the moonrat mother would have known something.”

  DeVargas was the earth wizard on the council and was the only member besides Master Latva that had been named. Fist didn’t need to read Justan’s emotions to know that a named wizard in league with Mellinda was a bad thing.

  “As it is, the witch has to know something is going on,” Latva said. “With a prize this good she would have noticed when he didn’t check in and her other spies would have told her that he had left the school.”

  Fist noticed that Squirrel wasn’t on the wizard’s shoulder any longer. He was still in the room though. Fist looked around and saw him sniffing at the stableman’s cell. He didn’t like the smell of it.

  “I want to speak to him,” Master Latva said, looking at the named wizard in the cell.

  “Are you sure, Master?” Valtrek asked. “If I lower the barrier, he will be able to see all of us.”

  “I know,” Latva said. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. Lower it.”

  Valtrek nodded and the air around the cell shimmered briefly.

  “Ah, there you are,” said Master DeVargas, ignoring the rest of them and focusing on Master Latva. “Finally ready to release me from this cage, Latva? I hope you’ve told Valtrek that I am going to see him stricken from his post for doing this to me.”

  “You are not being released anytime soon, DeVargas,” Latva said. “Not until you are willing to talk about your connection to the mother of the moonrats.”

  “You keep saying that, but I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I know nothing of moonrats except for the terrible sounds they make when we pass through their woods!” he insisted. “And you have no evidence otherwise so why do you insist on keeping me here?”

  Squirrel stepped over to DeVargas’ cage and sniffed. Stinks.

  “The prophet’s assistant felt you out,” Valtrek said. “And then there is the matter of the moonrat eye in your possession.”

  “What? Are you moaning about that bauble again?” De Vargas snapped. “For the hundredth time, Valtrek, you corner-sniffing fool, I found it in the forest and sat it on my shelf. It was an item of curiosity, nothing more!”

  “We found it in a polished mahogany box lined with velvet, locked away in a drawer beside your bed,” Valtrek said evenly. “Who keeps the shriveled eye of a dead rodent as a keepsake?”

  Justan and Vannya looked over to Locksher, who was scratching his head innocently.

  “I sensed there was some magic in it, of course,” DeVargas said. “But at no time did I communicate with anyone through it. That’s a preposterous idea and you know it!”

  Master Latva frowned. “What do you think, Willum, son of Coal? Do you sense Mellinda’s presence on him?”

  Willum narrowed his eyes and stared at the prisoner, but unless he had better spirit sight than Fist, he didn’t see anything. “He’s been away from the eye for a while, so I can’t see anything, but maybe . . .” He swallowed and placed a hesitant hand on the handle of the axe. Willum’s eye twitched and a frown formed on his lips.

  This went on for a few moments and Wizard Randolf grumbled, “Come on, this is absurd.”

  “There’s nothing to find,” DeVargas said.

  “Give him a moment,” Valtrek replied.

  Willum finally let out a sigh and removed his hand from the axe, “He’s definitely been in contact with the witch. My axe says that there are still traces of her magic on him.”

  “Squirrel smells it too,” Fist said. Squirrel point
ed at DeVargas and nodded in agreement.

  “Ridiculous!” DeVargas spat. “Squirrels? Please. And Coal’s son or not, what ability does that young man have that would let him know such things?”

  “It is true that we haven’t been given proof of that yet,” Auger said.

  “The prophet came down here last night, DeVargas,” said Master Latva. “I can only presume he was here to see you. Would you care to tell us what he said?”

  DeVargas paled and clenched his left hand so hard it shook. “That was between John and I. Now you have no good reason to keep me here. I demand that you let me out!”

  “DeVargas!” Justan stepped forward, his mind filled with direct purpose, “Show us your hand.”

  The wizard’s face twisted into a snarl. “How dare you, apprentice? How dare you speak to me like that?”

  “He’s right,” said Auger. “Despite what he is accused of, Master DeVargas was named at the Bowl of Souls. You must use his honorific. To do otherwise is to insult the bowl itself.”

  Fist could feel Justan’s anger spike.

  “You seem to forget that I was named too, Professor,” Justan said, thrusting his left hand palm out, showing his wizard rune. Auger flinched. Justan turned his palm to the rest of the council. “Many of you have conveniently forgotten that.”

  Fist had noticed it as well. All of the professors in the school had been avoiding calling Justan by name. Most of the mages too. Even if they spoke his name, it was ‘Sir Edge’, as if they could acknowledge that he had been named as a warrior, but not as a wizard.

  “Believe me, we haven’t forgotten,” Randolf said.

  “Professor Valtrek, where is his naming weapon?” Justan asked.

  Valtrek’s brow furrowed. “His dagger is kept over there in that warded box,” he said pointing to a short black box in the corner of the room. “But I wouldn’t touch it. His cell is shielded against magic use, but he might still be able to reach through his dagger.”

  “I don’t think so,” Justan said, walking over to the chest. He lifted the lid, his thoughts full of confidence.

  “Be careful!” Fist said as Justan reached in.

  Justan pulled out an ornate dagger, covered in multifaceted jewels. He gave a grim nod and held it out so that the rest could see. There was a great crack running down the length of the blade. The naming rune was split in two.

  “He has no bond with this dagger,” Justan said.

  “Impossible,” Wizard Munsey said.

  Master Latva snatched the dagger out of Justan’s hand and shook it at the caged wizard. “Show us your rune, DeVargas!”

  DeVargas trembled, but raised his fist towards the bars. He slowly opened his left hand. His rune had a crack down the middle mirroring the crack in his dagger. Where the thickened skin of the rune had split blood seeped, clotted in a few places. “I . . . cut myself. It will heal.”

  “Will it, Professor Auger?” Justan asked.

  “No,” the historian answered, his jaw open as he stared at DeVargas in disbelief. “It won’t. The rune is broken. That can only mean that his naming has been revoked. That is something that’s only happened a handful of times since the beginning of the bowl’s history.”

  “Like Stardeon,” Fist said, feeling pity for the man. DeVargas had risen so far and somehow the witch had still been able to corrupt him.

  “Yes,” said Justan. “Like Stardeon, he has broken his promise to the bowl.”

  It had been the last vision John had shown them the night they arrived at the school. While Samson had waited outside the broken laboratory, Stardeon had knelt on the floor weeping uncontrollably. John had reached out and placed a hand on his head. Stardeon had let out a wail of despair and the prophet’s last sight of him had been the wizard staring at the broken rune on his hand.

  Latva’s sharp eyes weren’t filled with pity. He hurled the broken dagger to the ground and stared right into the ex-master’s face. “The bowl has made its decision. In the records of the Mage School, your name will be changed back to Wizard Nikoli. The council will reconvene to decide your fate once the extent of your crimes are known!”

  “Latva,” the wizard formerly known as DeVargas fell to his knees and pleaded. “Master Latva, wait. There is a misunderstanding. Bring the prophet back here. He’ll change his mind. I-.”

  Valtrek waved his hand, putting up a sound barrier that cut the master wizard off mid-sentence. He then clicked his fingers and the prisoners’ cells rose into the ceiling again.

  Latva whirled to face Valtrek. “In two days I want you to bring him back down and interrogate him again. Maybe some time to think will have changed his mind. Hint to him that if he speaks, he might be able to avoid quelling after his trial.”

  “B-but we don’t know that he’s done anything worthy of quelling,” Professor Auger said.

  “No, but Nikoli knows,” Valtrek said with a nod. “I’ll do that, Master Latva.”

  “If I might make a suggestion,” said Justan. “You may want to try bringing Stout Harley along with you. No one knows Mellinda’s tactics better than him.”

  “But are we certain he can be trusted?” Latva asked.

  Justan looked at Willum, who looked surprised at being singled out.

  “Well, I-uh do believe that he has forsaken his relationship with the witch, sir. I’ll go and check him out for you if you would like.”

  “Do it,” Valtrek said. He looked around at the others. “I think this ends our meeting. Be discreet about what you have heard here. There will come a time when the need for secrecy will end, but I would like the moonrat mother to remain unaware of our efforts for as long as possible.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Squirrel cocked his head in confusion and proffered the nut again.

  “No, Squirrel. No thank you. I’m fine,” Justan said for the third time.

  The animal shrugged and chewed the nut itself, not moving from its perch on Justan’s shoulder. Justan sighed and leaned forward in the stiff chair, planting his elbows on his knees and resting his face in his hands. He didn’t remember it taking so long when he had been tested.

  The long hallway that ran down the center of the Magic Testing Center was dimly lit and cool. The chairs outside the other rooms were unoccupied save for the last room on the far side. An apprentice that Justan had never seen before sat there patiently taking notes. The hallway was mostly quiet except for the occasional muffled thud that could mean someone’s magical experiment was going extremely well. Or extremely bad.

  He wished he could be inside with Fist, but Locksher had been adamant. Justan wasn’t allowed in the room because it was too dangerous. He wasn’t allowed to observe through the bond either for fear that the presence of his magic within Fist would disrupt the test results. Justan listened to the bond carefully instead, trying hard not to push any of his thoughts through to Fist.

  He sensed that Fist’s emotions were full of excitement, but there was also fear. Justan couldn’t blame him. Fist had been given several days to worry over whether or not his magic would even be strong enough to bother training. When Justan had been tested, the moment had been thrust upon him suddenly.

  Fist’s excitement rose. Justan glanced over to see Squirrel sitting very still with his eyes closed, concentrating. Justan found it difficult to resist entering the bond himself. He knew what was happening. This would be the moment where Fist reached for that knot of power deep inside him and released a pure blast of elemental magic. He heard a strange whooshing sound in the bond and a surge of energy pushed through it, causing Justan’s heart to race.

  It was done. The testing was over. Justan tried to recall if he had felt any vibration; anything that would tell him how strong the blast had been.

  Locksher says you can come in now, Fist sent. He is painting a piece of paper with some stinky oil.

  Justan stood quickly and opened the door. The room was empty except for the two chairs Locksher and Fist sat in. The ogre was grinning from ear to ear despi
te how uncomfortable that narrow chair looked under his wide frame.

  “So what did you find?” Justan asked. He looked around the room, remembering how the magic from his own testing had cracked the ceiling. The room seemed undamaged.

  “We were just about to find out,” Locksher said, laying the oiled sheet of paper on the ground. He held out a glowing orb and looked up at Fist. “Now this orb has absorbed as much of that blast as possible. It will project the pure elemental mix of your magic on the paper. Are you ready?”

  Fist nodded excitedly and Locksher placed the glowing orb in the center of the paper. A mix of colors left the orb and bled across the page. After a few seconds, Locksher removed the orb and held up the sheet. It was smeared with a wide swath of black with blue and gold streaks running through it.

  “It seems that your strength is earth magic,” Locksher said. “Your secondary strength is either air or water. It is hard to tell. Their levels look to be about the same. Your talent in fire appears to be negligible.”

  “But how strong is my magic?” Fist asked. Justan found it hard to tell, looking at the page. When he had been tested, the entire sheet was blue and gold. The color on Fist’s sheet didn’t reach all the way to the edges.

  “Your earth magic is above average, and your air and water slightly below average,” Locksher said, then added, “For a human that is. For an ogre, according to the research I’ve done, your talent level is very high.”

  “Congratulations, Fist!” Justan said, giving the ogre a tight hug.

  Fist laughed and stood, lifting Justan off the ground. Then he released Justan and the ogre hugged a surprised Locksher as well. “So what does this make me? A mud wizard?”

  Locksher coughed and patted the ogre clumsily on the back. “Perhaps. With a mix of water and earth you have the makings of a mud wizard. That means you could become a good healer. Or you could as easily become a lightning wizard with your mix of earth and air. It really depends on what areas of magic you decide to research. You could even become a mix of the two, though it is likely that you will find you have an affinity for one over the other. Only time will tell.”