Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Cluff

  Everything was in motion. All was as planned, except for the slight bump of the slave gardener. She was terrible with names. If Cirrus did his duty, that would be settled. She was certain he would. She had seen his fear clearly when he looked at her, and as a conspirator in this plot he had no choice if he wished to live.

  With a witness, the Council should be satisfied with the events as told. The scene will support all. Only one small detail to deal with after that, and she would be the unchallenged Mistress of House Dothranan.

  Karla led her to the baths, and the scantily clad slave women stopped in their tracks for a moment. One dropped the tongs she was using to tend the fire rocks at the sight of Ari. Karla snapped her fingers, and two of them rushed to assist in undressing her. They were unmarked and attractive. No doubt they were her father's playthings as well as his bath attendants.

  She absentmindedly wondered how many of the slaves she now owned were also mothers to her half-siblings. It mattered not. If your mother is a slave, then you are a slave. That is the law. They could not threaten her right to rule this House.

  “Burn those bloody rags,” Karla said with venom.

  “No,” Ari said quietly. “The Council may wish to examine them.”

  “Of course, Mistress. You heard the Mistress,” Karla emphasized. “Place them in a barrel with nothing else. Do not touch them. If any do, they will answer to me!”

  The slaves moved quickly. This girl who had never required more than the respect due any common person was now their Mistress and held their lives in her hands. Good slaves adapted quickly to a change in ownership. Bad slaves didn't get old.

  Karla hissed at the sight of Ari's naked body. The whip and scourge scars were all over her, with fresh welts and scabbed wounds she had never seen. But, of course, she was the body servant to the late Mistress, and never had cause to assist her in the baths before. She knew her stepmother had been a severe, serious woman, but she had no idea how much this child had endured before now. This poor girl, now the Mistress of this House would never be able to wear a revealing dress in public.

  The slave girls scrubbed her body gently, removing stains of blood from her slender body were hopeful at seeing the scars. This girl had been punished more than ten disobedient slaves together. They hoped it would make her a more merciful Mistress then her stepmother had been.

  There was a gentle rap at the door, and one slave opened it slightly. She heard Cirrus's voice from behind the door. “Let him in,” Ari said as she descended into the large stone basin of the bath. One woman took her long blonde locks in hand and began brushing her hair with care.

  Cirrus entered, and turned himself to allow for her privacy, even though he had seen her nude body many times. He had seen her naked, strapped to tables or suspended from beams so he could carry out her stepmother's brutal wishes. “All has been done as ordered, Mistress.”

  “Good. When I finish, I will contact the Wizard's Council to inform them of what has occurred. You will meet me at my stepmother's laboratory in half an hour,” she said in a cold tone.

  “Very good, Mistress.” He bowed his head and exited quickly.

  Karla shivered when she heard Ari's tone. That is the difference between a noble and a commoner; a commoner could never take command like this after such a loss. Yes, that was it. It had to be. But...

  Noting her discomfort, Ari said: “I must be steel now, lest we lose this house. I suggest you remember my stepmother's vow to spit my father like a pig and serve me well.”

  Karla's eyes widened, and she stammered, “Yes, Mistress, of course.” She had not survived thirty years in a noble house for being dim and concentrated fully on the task at hand.

  Ari let herself relax in the bath. “Fetch a black robe. I will present myself as a humble supplicant in mourning.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” the slave who had just added a fire rock to the bath said before she scurried away.

  Ari let the heat soak into her body and went over what must happen next in her mind. There could be no mistakes here.

  * * *

  Ari wore a black robe with humble hemp sandals. She struck the Magikal wards of her stepmother's laboratory with such force it ruffled Cirrus's thinning hair. The door simply fell inward when she pushed it with her palm. The Captain of the guard schooled his wide eyes quickly and ordered the two guards with him to secure the entry.

  She stepped upon the door and entered her stepmother's laboratory. She had never even been permitted to enter this room. Her stepmother had promised her that she would regret it more than anything she had ever done if she did. The entire room, walls, floor, and ceiling were wooden. Sensible. Ari thought. The vegetable matter will not absorb any of an enchantment's strength the way minerals will.

  She looked about, seeing tall shelves with many rare Magikal tomes, and another wide shelf with jars and boxes containing nearly every mineral known to exist. But upon her dead stepmother's desk sat the object of her interest. There, on an ornate stand sat a five-inch diameter rune-covered stone of round jade. It was one of the eight stones only given to Wizards of the Council, the so-called “sacred” stone of Liligoth. Ari scoffed at the application of such an honorific to an object, no matter how potent a talisman it might be.

  Placing her hands on the stone, she said “Cirrus, place your hand on my shoulder. You too, Captain.”

  Cirrus obeyed, but reluctantly. He knew what was about to happen. A smart man didn't like being Magiked, even when he was assured it wasn't harmful. But who knows what a Wizard, or even what an apprentice Wizard, could do to him without him knowing? After what he had seen an hour ago, he had a fair idea, and his imagination was vivid.

  The Captain took her opposite shoulder in hand without hesitation. Is this man obedient, or just stupid? Cirrus wondered.

  Then the room changed. It was as if a point on the wall in front of him glowed; then the glow rushed at him surrounding them in a tunnel of light. Cirrus felt like he left his stomach behind in the room. The sense of motion reminded him of one of the lifts in the Manor: like what he felt when it descended. But he was moving forward, and his senses told him he was moving at unfathomable speed.

  Then, the stained glass dome of the Council's chamber in the Capitol City of Corwinthius coalesced into a bluish version of reality. The walls were decorated with arcane writings and paintings; some paintings were beautiful: others depicted scenes of disturbing brutality and carnage. Cirrus stamped his foot; he could feel the impact, but not as he would in the truly real world.

  The tall guard Captain quickly examined his surroundings, as if looking for threats. Cirrus highly doubted that any amount of awareness could help them here.

  Ari stood straight, and without fear she said, “You may release me.” Her tone made it clear that it was not a request.

  Cirrus instantly obeyed but felt more vulnerable letting go of the only anchor he had in this strange place.

  The air distorted in the center of the chamber: it looked like it twisted and shimmered. A figure appeared from the distorted air on the central dais of the domed room. Not an imposing figure, physically. He was a stooped elderly man placing most of his weight on the rune-covered staff he held. The man looked to be even older than his grandfather, and he'll have seen his thirty-fifth summer next week. If this man was of the Council of Wizards, Cirrus knew he could pull all the bones from his flesh and leave him alive.

  “Who are you people?” His query boomed in the room. It was not a trick of architecture; that much was certain to Cirrus. “How dare you touch the sacred stone of Liligoth!”

  Ari went to her knees, and the Captain mimicked her instantly. Cirrus went down as well, but trying to absorb what he was experiencing dulled his reflexes.

  “YOU WILL ANSWER!” The man's voice struck with a physical force that bowled them all over onto their backs.

  Ari recovered first, and knelt respectfully. “I am Ari Dothranan, Milord. I have only soiled the sacred stone with my unworthy touch at the gr
eatest of need.” She dutifully prostrated herself. Ari touched her forehead to the glowing pad she was on, her long blonde locks spilling from her head.

  Other Wizards began appearing on the glowing discs throughout the room. There were seven that glowed, but one was dark. It was ten yards to the nearest on the left, where another Master of the Wizards' Council materialized in an ethereal form.

  “I know of you, bastard child of Arayan Dothranan. Speak your words, and prepare yourself,” the old man's voice boomed.

  “My stepmother killed my father, before my eyes, Master Osium. I was powerless to prevent it, but not powerless to avenge him.” She wept openly and smashed her forehead into the glowing stone, in a gesture of futility. Hard enough to draw blood.

  “What year are you, child?” a female voice that was too quiet to carry from her position still managed to come to their ears.

  “Fourth-year apprentice, Milady,” she said quietly.

  “You are a most skilled apprentice, not being burned to ash by the stone of Liligoth. And bringing others; your ability is not that of an apprentice, of any rank,” a firm male voice projected from the opposite side of the room.

  “No apprentice, no matter how talented could have defeated Councilor Dothranan. Not unless she was sleeping,” a musical male voice said with a light laugh.

  “There is a witness, Milord,” Ari said with a gesture to Cirrus.

  The elderly man in the center sat upon an unadorned wooden stool on his dais and said: “Come forward man, and name yourself,” nodding to Cirrus.

  Cirrus swallowed, stood and stepped forward. “I am Cirrus Eidelth, Milord.”

  “Recount what you saw. If you speak falsely, you will die,” the ancient Master said with finality.

  “I... Milord... I came into the study, and I saw my Master's corpse. Milady Ari was wailing something fierce, sir. Milady Ari killed her mother's guards with Magik, and then took vengeance on her swiftly. She took her throat with a blade. It was a good deep cut. I was tossed against the wall by some kind of Magik, Milord. Then she took her heart with her blade. My Mistress commanded me to get guards, to make sure nothing was disturbed. On pain of death, Milord, except slaves, of course.” He'd practiced these words for two months now; on Ari's order. The words were true, even though they betrayed the truth.

  Seven of the most powerful beings in the entire world shared looks with each other, and with the old man on the dais.

  “Ari Dothranan. Who is this other, and why has he been brought here? As an apprentice, you should understand the sanctity of this place,” Council Master Osium bellowed.

  “He is Jociam Trein, Captain of my late father's personal guard, Milord. He secured the scene of my father's murder, for your inspection,” Ari remained prostrated before the council. The blood from her self-inflicted wound dripped three times before they replied.

  “I will go to see this scene of carnage,” the soft woman's voice reached their ears.

  “The stone of Liligoth must be recovered, and another must be chosen for this Council,” the musical male voice intoned.

  “Agreed,” came the Councils voices in unison.

  “I will take my house, and lead it to the best of my abilities, Milord,” Ari stated. “And assist you in any way I am able.”

  “Stand, apprentice. I would look upon you,” the old man's voice boomed.

  Ari stood and looked at him without fear. The blood began running along the side of her nose, but aside from that she was beautiful. She had a small straight nose, with high cheeks, full lips, and moderate bosom according to her age. Ari was a tall, slender young woman. Nearly as tall as her father had been.

  “Who is your birth mother, apprentice?” A strong female voice asked.

  “I do not know, Milady. My stepmother told me she was a common whore, and that I was nothing more than the product of my father's lust. But my father would only say that I was as beautiful as she was and no more,” Ari bowed her head.

  “Pity. Her blood even if common is strong, no doubt,” the older woman's gaze rested respectfully upon her.

  Ari spoke into the silence and said, “I will ensure the safety of the stone of Liligoth and inform High Lord Vallad of this incident. We will prepare for your arrival, Councilor.”

  “Apprentice, you should know well the law. You would normally have only two years to marry and maintain your position since you are not a widow. If all you have stated is judged as fact, I will speak to the Council of High Nobles on your behalf to allow you until you have finished your schooling. If you do not, then you will be removed as a Great Lady, and a suitable replacement will be installed.” The old man looked at the others who had come.

  “Agreed,” came the seven voices in unison.

  “We have spoken enough, apprentice. You will leave us, now.” He looked at her gravely.

  Ari's hands grasped Cirrus and the Captain, and the three of them vanished instantly.

  “What is she?” The deep baritone voice from across the chamber asked.

  “Gifted beyond any I have ever seen, that much is certain,” the musical male voice offered.

  Master Osium said seriously, “Vengeance is her right if the blood of her family was spilled. But Marylyn Dothranan would have been a difficult opponent for any one of us.”

  The Councilors nodded to the truth of that statement.

  The soft female voice said, “Master Rema of the Academy of Vallad has spoken to me of Ari Dothranan. He says she is the most talented student he has ever taught. He believes she acquired the sight at the age of three.”

  “No one has gained the sight before four years of age, and there are only four of those living now. Three of us are in this room,” the strong female voice said.

  The soft female said, “I have challenged him on this, but he is quite adamant. He is in fact studying her abilities for a paper to adjust the spiritual conservation curve based on her age.”

  “I cannot believe that is possible,” the firm man's voice said.

  “I trained Master Rema. I do not doubt his word or mind,” Osium said firmly. “Investigate this incident, and I will speak with him. Mara, see to the petty squabbles while we seek answers.”

  “Yes Master,” the strong feminine voice answered.

  * * *

  When they returned to her stepmother's laboratory Ari addressed Captain Trein, “Prepare for the Councilor's arrival, and ready an escort to the High Lord.”

  The Captain saluted fist to heart, “Yes, Mistress,” and left.

  Cirrus took a step and Ari's hand, quick as a snake took his wrist. “Wait,” she said.

  “Mistress,” he said with a certain dread. He knew now. He was completely certain that this young girl was ten times as ruthless and intelligent as her stepmother had been. And before her performance in the Council Chamber, he would have said her stepmother had been the most ruthless and intelligent person he had ever met.

  She smiled broadly. The image of innocent happiness was destroyed by the blood running down her face, and knowing what he knew. “I will buy you the prettiest slave as your reward... she'll be all yours. Unless she displeases me, of course.”

  His breathing nearly stopped for a moment. He was afraid to reply. But he did, because it was required of him. “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “Of course. You saved me,” she smiled broadly. “You will take the cutpurse we captured and trade her in on your slave.”

  “I think... I will acquire a fat old maid with that, Mistress,” Cirrus said bluntly.

  Ari pulled his wrist forward and placed a heavy leather pouch in his hand. “I think two gold crowns will assure you not only bring home one of the most beautiful slaves ever seen, but will buy enough wine that she will not remember you taking her.”

  Cirrus opened the pouch. He had never held that much gold. It contained two large golden discs that were the size and thickness of his palm. Even when Master Arayan had sent him to market to buy new slaves, he had given him half as much. There was enoug
h coin in his hand to buy two-hundred average slaves, easily. He was afraid, but he could do nothing more than move forward. He wouldn't dare risk insulting the Mistress by refusing such a grand gift.

  “Thank you, Mistress.” Then he asked, “You don't want to have the cutpurse hanged as your mother did, Milady?”

  “My stepmother.” She corrected him. “No, I am not her. Slaving is good enough for her,” Ari said firmly.

  He bowed deeply and left. He knew if she wished him dead, he would be by now. So what was it that made him so afraid?

  Nobles never call a man out in public. He remembered his father saying. But feeling the sheer weight of that pouch, he knew no one would waste so much on a dead man.

  “Yes Mistress,” Cirrus bowed and excused himself quickly.

  * * *

  Cirrus dismounted from the horse after he arrived at the prison. He handed the animal's reigns off to the waiting stableman inside the walls. He was cleared to enter the prison proper after the guards had it verified with their Commander. He had waited at least twenty minutes before they allowed him entry.

  Cirrus doubled his step once he entered with the two guards that had been assigned to him. He would like to drown this dark day in spirits and lust, almost as much as he would like to leave this stinking prison.

  The cutpurse in question was named Jirai Sonom. She was a dark haired woman who had been in the cells for nearly two weeks. Her hair was cut oddly: it was about the length of her chin all the way around, with her bangs held on top of her head by a string. She was about thirty summers, fit and attractive, except for the patch covering her right eye. She had a hard look to her though that would look more at home in armor than a dress.

  It seemed odd to Cirrus that the woman was in a cell by herself. Most times, women were thrown in with men just so the guards would have something to entertain them during their watch. Unless they wanted her for themselves, which was usually only the case with young, pretty women.