Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Cluff

  The merriment left Eliel's eyes. “Are you alright, man?” Her voice was filled with concern.

  “I don't know,” Thorel said and sipped his drink. “All I wanted to do when I came here was please my mother and learn why clocks work. Then I could hopefully get a good job making or fixing them,” they waited quietly as he paused for a drink. “Now I'm told I have Magik, and the Great Lady Dothranan offered to pay for my schooling if I swear to her House! She told me I'd have rank if I become a Wizard, and only she could give me orders. A Great House! Two steps from the throne itself!” He said, his mind trying to encircle it.

  Nigel took a big drink with his surprised eyes on Thorel.

  “If you want rank, I'll call you ‘Milord’ all night long if you wanna put a baby in me,” Eliel said seriously.

  Thorel looked at her flatly, nonplussed.

  “Sorry, man,” she said, looking properly embarrassed.

  Nigel let out a low whistle. “Wow. I'm not sure what to say to that. I mean you, a soul stealer? That just isn't right,” he said without mirth.

  “They don't steal them; they bargain for them. And they're not souls, they're spirits, and hell – they told me all this, but I don't know it well enough to tell you right. All of that is just stories, man,” Thorel said with a deep pull to finish his first mug.

  Eliel took a drink, then asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I don't know. I mean, it sounds good in its way, but there's just so much I don't know about these things. That's why I wanted to talk to Master Stiral about it,” he said frustrated.

  “Well, I don't know anything about Wizards, but I can tell you a thing or two about Nobles,” Eliel said seriously. “They're not just people like us. They think they're better than us, they like to make sport of us common people unless you do what they want.”

  Nigel nodded at that. “She's right, Thorel. But listen to me on this one: Nobles don't like being told no. They really don't like it. I've heard of people being killed just for that,” he said with a deadly serious look in his eyes.

  Thorel met his eyes with a frown and took a deep pull of his second mug.

  “Little man's right on that,” Eliel nodded in agreement. “I'm sure that old pervert at the Academy could tell you more than we can though.”

  Thorel sputtered on his drink hearing this, and Nigel's eyes lit up with humor.

  A drunken man came up behind Eliel and said, “Hey there, sweets, send the lads home, I'll show you the pleasure a real man can give you.”

  Thorel stood up instantly, feeling true rage for the first time in his life. “If a woman comes at you, treat them like a man; if they don't, you treat 'em like a flower boy.” He could hear Korin's voice in his memories. He'd always lived this way and had never seen anyone so disrespectful before. The fact it was directed towards a woman only intensified his feelings.

  Eliel just said irritably, “I ain't workin' tonight, piss off.” Then the man put his hands on her behind, and she shrieked from the soreness of her bottom.

  Thorel took a step forward, but Eliel whirled around and smashed her tankard across his skull. He fell to the ground bleeding.

  Nigel's eyes popped, “SHIT! Let's go!” and started nimbly for the door as most of the patrons roared with laughter and cheers.

  Eliel grabbed Thorel's hand and started for the door. The bouncer was coming right for them, with his club in hand.

  Eliel tossed him a silver coin and said “Sorry 'bout that.”

  The bouncer paused to catch it, giving them just enough time to make good their escape.

  * * *

  Ari sat in her ornate bathroom with her arms outstretched laying against the curve of the soapstone basin; this was one of the four large basins in her private bathroom. The other three were empty right now, and she had never seen them all in use.

  The water was almost too warm from the fire rocks, exactly as she liked it.

  She had taken her bath early tonight. She usually waited until the twenty-second hour. But she wanted time alone since Siri usually joined her then. She needed time to think.

  She closed her eyes and pictured him in her mind. Thoral? Close enough. She thought.

  She liked his smell. She had never thought that about a man. Most men stank in her opinion. There was a musky sweaty odor they seemed to have that offended her nose.

  He was taller than her, not many could say that while she wore her boots. She'd never considered that could be desirable.

  He was obviously quick, especially given the shock of having to overcome all of his common disinformation in a matter of minutes. And he'd even managed to present a reasonable hypothesis to cover his delusions. She hadn't expected that from a commoner with no knowledge of Magik.

  He'd even had the gall to interrupt her! She should have slapped him, at least.

  But her mind had been muddled for some reason. She felt a flutter in her body and quickening of her heart. She used her Magik to examine herself; she was well, but what was this feeling?

  He was perfect for what she needed. She could use him to secure her house. Yes, it would take six years of training for him to acquire his staff, but she was certain the High Lord would grant her an extension of her time to marry if she were betrothed. As long as she could show he was doing well in his classes. If the High Lord denied her, Council Master Osium had already shown favor towards her. She could approach him directly in Corwinthius.

  She felt her womanhood blaze with a desire she had only ever felt once before. Gingerly, she touched it and gasped. She touched herself more firmly, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She made a slow circle with her fingers, and her whole body tingled.

  “You love it, don't you girl?” She could hear the voice, and smell the stinking sweaty man odor in her nostrils.

  The slave girls jumped at her unexpected scream. Ari splashed in the water thrashing and gripped her hands to her scarred breast. Her eyes were wide, and she felt like her heart was trying to escape her ribcage.

  “Are you alright, Mistress?” One of the slaves asked with concern.

  The hallway door burst open. “Mistress!” Her personal guard yelled, with steel in hand.

  “Yes,” she said weakly.

  “Mistress?” The guardswoman asked.

  “I'm fine. Go. All of you,” her voice choked.

  There were bows, curtsies and several “Yes Mistress's.” Feet shuffled on the polished stone, and the door closed.

  Ari put her hand on her heart and panted, tears welling from her eyes. She waited for the memories to fade.

  Thursday May 2nd 1624th year of the First Great City

  The Attack

  Thorel sat in the wooden chair in front of Headmaster Stiral's wooden desk. The guardswoman who was his constant companion sat behind him on the stool that had been used to punish applicants the first time Thorel had been here. It was a quarter to the eighth hour which was when his first class would begin.

  “I appreciate your confidence in me, young man. I do have a good deal of information for you, but only you can make your choices,” Headmaster Stiral said seriously.

  Thorel had come to see him first thing when he woke. He couldn't go to class without his books anyway, which had been completely forgotten after his experience in the tower. He told him what happened there, as well as his friends counsel.

  He did leave out the fact that he saw animal's spirits; he didn't want the Master to think he was touched. He also withheld the Great Lady's confidence she'd shared with him. That seemed private the way she had said it.

  The Headmaster said, “Young man, this is truly a once in a lifetime opportunity. But your troublesome friends are correct. It can be dangerous to refuse a Noble, particularly the more ruthless ones, which House Dothranan does have a reputation for. But Ari Dothranan is new to her title. She has yet to make a reputation for herself.”

  “Do you think I'm in danger if I say ‘no,’ Master?” Thorel asked with concern.

  “It is possible.
If a Noble wishes to gain a person's service, and they refuse, that does mean they can be recruited by one of their enemies. Some will take action to prevent that. If they do, they will usually take indirect action, to avoid incurring the wrath of the High Lord,” Stiral answered.

  Thorel frowned at that. “What do you know about her?”

  “I do not know Great Lady Dothranan well. But this is her fifth year at this Academy. She has three academic classes each day; the other four are in the Apprentices Tower. Her father enrolled her when she was fourteen years old. She is a brilliant student by all accounts. She seems to have nearly perfect recall, except for people's names oddly. It took her almost a year to get mine right,” he smiled.

  Thorel smiled back, finding it strange that such a brilliant student would have such an odd defect.

  “She was quite different before her parents passed though. She would speak to no one, except her instructors. She would not even meet my eye, except when I asked it. She would spend long hours in the library after classes were dismissed. She seems to have a thirst for knowledge, unlike any student I have ever seen. Some other students were unkind to her, but she did not raise her hand or voice to defend herself. Not once,” he said.

  “That doesn't sound anything like the woman I met, sir,” Thorel said, having a hard time imagining her being so passive.

  “No, it isn't. I had not yet gotten word of her parents passing, but when she arrived at the Academy the next day she was a completely different person. She walked with the Noble bearing you see now, wearing the Sigil of her House, which she had never done before. One of the older students asked her why she was traveling under guard. But the way he asked her was completely inappropriate.”

  “How so, Master?” Thorel asked.

  “Oh, it was something on the order of, “Decided to bring your friends since you don't have any here, Ari?” if I recall correctly. She demanded that he address her properly as ‘Milady,’ and the young man scoffed at her. Then she slapped him hard enough to break his jaw. When the Academy Guard arrived to deal with the situation, her guards drew steel on them. When I arrived, she was holding the sobbing man in one hand giving him a very thorough lesson on the correct etiquette to use while addressing her. She released him only when he apologized through his broken teeth to her. I, of course, did properly apologize to the Great Lady for his behavior, once I learned the truth of the situation,” he said with a serious look into Thorel's eyes.

  Thorel eyes widened. “That sounds ruthless to me, sir,” he shivered.

  “Yes, but it is her right, and necessary for those of noble ranks to make certain their position is not disrespected. If she were to let such a slight pass, and other Houses caught word of it, it would diminish her authority in their eyes. Such disrespect for her house could lead to direct attacks on her holdings. There are many noble houses that would quickly take advantage of any perceived weakness as moving to a Great House is the only way for them to advance their positions,” the Master said.

  “That seems savage, sir,” Thorel observed.

  “Yes, in a way I suppose it is. But the Noble system has worked well for the last fourteen hundred years young man. It was made with the thought that only those ablest and most deserving could succeed. If a Great House cannot maintain itself, and their obligations to the High Lords, then they should be supplanted by their betters to maintain the stability of the realm,” Stiral said.

  “I never realized the common man was so powerless, sir,” Thorel said sadly.

  Master Stiral shook his head. “They aren't, young man. In fact, it would be safe to say that the common person has ultimate authority over the realm.”

  “How so?” he asked, puzzled.

  “A Noble is only as powerful as the people that serve them. If you were a Noble, but no one wished to serve you, how would you defend yourself from attack? How would you see to your obligations to the High Nobility? The common person, by giving their service to a Lord or Lady gives them their power as well. But I think we have strayed from the subject, young man,” he said patiently.

  “Yes, but thank you for answering my questions, Master. I have one more question though if you have time,” Thorel said.

  “What is it, Mr. Tangarth?” He asked.

  “Why would I want to become a Wizard?” Thorel inquired.

  “Well, for one thing Wizards are the rarest of all professions in the land. Therefore, it is the most sought after. There is no other profession that is paid or treated as well. Just completing the training grants you Noble rank,” the Headmaster said.

  “You mean I could have a Noble House like the Great Lady?” Thorel asked, astounded.

  “Oh no, being a Noble and having a Noble House are two very different things. The rank alone does entitle you to the command the respect of those of lesser rank, but it does not give you the lands, power and responsibilities of a Noble House. But it does entitle you to be able to marry into a Noble House, which could be a great benefit as well. It is important to note that a Noble of a Noble house would always outrank a Wizard without a Noble House, due to the power they wield.”

  “But returning to the subject of Wizard's training, at this time there are only eight Wizard students currently attending the Apprentices Tower here. It is likely only half of them will gain their staff,” Master Stiral replied.

  “What happens to the ones who fail, sir?” Thorel asked.

  “Many become enchanters of the Magikal talismans that are commonly used, such as fire rocks, speaking stones, record stones, and the like. Some are hired by Noble Houses as well. There is an Enchanter's curriculum for those whose ability is not sufficient to become Wizards also conducted in the tower. I believe there are currently twelve students. It is truly a mark of the potential you have that you would be invited to the Wizards training,” Headmaster Stiral paused to take a drink of his water.

  “I would imagine that the others simply get a job, like anyone who did not have the Wizards’ sight. But I'm certain Master Rema could give you a great deal more information on this subject then I can, young man,” he said patiently.

  Thorel started; “But, what about...”

  Master Stiral cut him off, “Young man, I have no more time to give you. And your pattern of thinking is wrong. You are too worried about the things you don't know to give thought to what you do know now. I will write an excuse for your tardiness today, so you may get your books and get to class,” he pulled out a paper and started writing. When he finished, he handed it to Thorel.

  “Dismissed,” Headmaster Stiral said curtly.

  “Yes Master, thank you,” Thorel bowed and left.

  * * *

  Alright, what do I know? Thorel thought as he walked slowly to the library.

  Wizards don't steal souls; they bargain for them. He was a bit angry about this. He wondered if his mother just didn't know, or if she was lying to him.

  His heart hardened. His mother was too smart for that. She was a graduate of the Great Academy of Surundi with a degree in alchemy. He judged it likely she knew it was a falsehood. His world was moved by knowing this. She had always admonished him to be completely honest, and for her to lie to him; he had no words.

  He stopped and put a hand on his chest. He was short of breath and outraged by her betrayal. He had always been dutiful to her. He was certain if she was before him at this moment and denied the truth, he would have choked her with a quickness. His voice cracked, and tears fell.

  A Wizard has the rank of a noble. It didn't seem important at first, but thinking about it, he could see that he might be able to do a lot more good than a man who just makes clocks. He would have a say in things. Even if his voice didn't carry far, it would still be heard.

  Great Lady Dothranan. This beautiful, brilliant woman wanted him to serve her? But the Headmaster's knowledge told him a lot more than he knew before. “Some other students were unkind to her, but she did not raise a hand or her voice to defend herself. Not once,” he heard Master Stir
al's voice.

  But then she had brutally disciplined a man for his disrespect though. Her guards had even drawn steel on Academy guards! Was she really wrong?

  He knew what his mother would have said. “He paid properly for his disrespect,” he'd heard her say that many times. The man deserved his beating. It was excessive, but he was certainly wrong.

  He would have to serve House Dothranan. Well, he was going to be looking for a job anyway, wasn't he? He chuckled with dark mirth and wiped the tears from his eyes. And this job would pay for everything. He'd be lucky to find a job half this good.

  He understood one thing suddenly. They were alike, in their difficulty, and strangeness. She rose to take control of a Great House, and he came here to this strange place. It was different but similar. Both were trying to learn what was needed to survive.

  He saw things she did not believe, and she said things her Master did not believe.

  Clothes, food, lodging, and “Many other things,” the Great Lady had said. She had looked positively bored while she was saying that she would provide for his life. Like the coin and the life both meant nothing. It was disturbing.

  He had always cared for the animals under his care. But he hadn't been herding one-quarter the population of Vallad! What kind of strain would he feel if his parents had died and left him to carry that burden?

  But she did the same for many. At what point does one try to care for so many lives that a life means nothing?

  Realization struck him like a clear dawn.

  “There is only one life at stake here. Mine.” He whispered with a new understanding of his world.

  * * *

  Nigel, Thorel, and Eliel met under the big tree behind Master Stiral's office after classes. They had agreed to meet here during the classes they had in common.

  “Well, I've made my decision. I'll tell you over a round, I'm buying,” Thorel said.