Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Cluff

  “Kira, dim the lights. The sun is quite bright today,” Ari said lightly.

  “Yes Mistress,” the pretty brunette said with a curtsy.

  As she began dimming the glow stones around the room, Siri spoke.

  “I have sent likenesses of the assassin to all the Legion Academies in the other Great Cities. When I checked with past and present officers at the Academy here, they did not know him, Mistress. It is a sign of his professionalism,” Siri took a drink of her juice.

  “Why is that a sign of professionalism?” Ari asked sipping her coffee.

  “Well Mistress, if one is going to trade in murder it is best to do so far from where one actually lives. It makes it more difficult to track them. While it is not taught in the Legion officially, unofficially it is known that some will choose the path of hired killer when they muster out. It is an old discussion among the officers, Mistress,” Siri said with a distant look in her eyes.

  “Ah,” Ari said. “It stands to reason. I never considered that before, thank you.”

  “You're welcome, Mistress. You seem to be in an excellent mood this morning. Did your lesson go well last night?” Siri gently pried with an arched eyebrow.

  Ari smiled, “It went very well, thanks to your excellent advice. Kira, go when you are finished.”

  “Yes Mistress,” she said while dimming another stone.

  “He is a precocious learner. Sometimes he has difficulty understanding my instructions, but he is intelligent enough to ask good questions. It is mostly his common upbringing to blame for the few difficulties he has,” Ari said.

  “Excellent Mistress,” Siri nodded with a smile.

  Kira finished her task. She curtsied, and left through the concealed door in the wall.

  When the door closed, Ari refilled her coffee cup and leaned forward. With a conspiratorial look in her eyes she giggled, “I was so involved in the lesson last night, I completely forgot about what you had said. Then he neglected to address me as Mistress, and I jested about having him flogged. He thought I was serious!” Ari laughed so hard that by the time she was done, she had tears in her eyes.

  Siri laughed as well and handed her a napkin.

  Ari took it and wiped the tears. She spoke again when she had regained her composure; “But I remembered what you told me. He doesn't understand anything about me or real life, so I talked to him about some of it. Just the little things really.”

  “I am glad it served you well, Mistress. May I ask what you told him?” Siri inquired.

  “Just a bit about my dead step-bitch's weekly punishments,” she said.

  “Even a bit of that would try a well-trained man, Mistress. May I ask how he reacted?” She asked.

  Ari looked into Siri's eyes intently and said, “He cried.”

  Siri's look changed to one of contempt. “He may not be the right man for you if he will blubber like a home wife at such a thing Mistress.”

  “Oh no, he did not blubber like a home wife. He was shaking with rage when the tears came he was so angry; he crushed the glass he was holding in his hand and paid it no mind. He even said he wished he could kill the step-whore!” Ari said excitedly.

  Siri considered this for a moment. “He is honest with his feelings, Mistress. So, is that all that happened?”

  Ari just looked at Siri, surprised at the directness of her question. “I wasn't drunk, Siri.” Still, she blushed like a young girl.

  “You do not get drunk Mistress, but you shouldn't deny your desires either,” she said seriously.

  “I don't desire him like that!” Ari exclaimed, blushing even more.

  “Mistress, for your plans regarding Mr. Tangarth to come to fruition, you are going to have to be honest with him about your feelings. But before you can do that, you will first have to be honest with yourself,” Siri said factually.

  “You think I am not?” Ari asked challengingly.

  “Respectfully, I know you are not, Mistress,” Siri replied looking directly into her eyes.

  Ari nodded thoughtfully. “I will consider this. Your advice has been sound so far.”

  “Thank you, Mistress. I have your schedule for today here,” she said pulling some papers from her case.

  “Excellent,” Ari said putting her thoughts of Thorel aside for the moment.

  * * *

  Thorel walked out of the breakfast hall, unsure what to do with his time today. The Mistress- no, Ari had given him this day to practice and hone the technique she had taught him last night.

  But he was too restless to concentrate.

  He hadn't slept well after his lesson last night. All he could think of was Ari, and the horrible things that had been done to her. He was sure he had never been in the kind of pain she has. Not even if he took all the pain he had experienced in his whole life and put it together and all he had seen was her arm. If the rest of her body was the same or worse; he had never even conceived of something so horrible.

  How she could simply talk about such horrors as if she was simply giving him another lesson amazed him. The sheer strength of her will had to be on a level beyond even the most powerful men. Thorel knew had he been subjected what she was, even half of it would have driven him mad. He would have killed or died to stop it. That idea was completely new to Thorel; it disturbed him greatly.

  He wandered for a time in the Manor. The dining hall he had just left was on the nineteenth floor. He had shared breakfast with many of the House guards and their families. His room was on the thirty-fifth floor. It was even larger than the one at the house Ari had given him to use. He had no idea what he was going to do with all the space. Build a house, maybe? He thought ruefully.

  It was hard for him to enjoy the splendor of the Manor with the thoughts that weighed on his mind though. He soon found himself outside. The day was overcast, which fit his mood quite well.

  Thorel had been so enraged last night, he'd broken his resolution not to drink. He drank only one glass, but he had never needed it before then. The Mistress- Ari had sat on the arm of his chair and spoken to him quietly, calming him.

  The conversation had turned to talk about his home life before coming to Vallad. Thorel talked about Korin, his wife Laren, Korin's daughters, Gretchen and Lena and his mother. He told her about the daily chores he did for Korin on the farm. He was much calmer after that.

  He broke out of his reminiscence when the grizzled drill instructor called his name.

  “Tangarth! Just the man I need. Get yourself over here if you don't have important business!”

  He found himself outside near the militia practice circle. He hadn't realized he'd wandered so far. He'd just wanted some fresh air, and wandered outside.

  Thorel walked over. “What can I do for you, Mr. Errol?” He was in no mood for company, but he couldn't just ignore the man. That would be rude.

  “I've got a perfect match for you with your swordplay here. If you have time, I'd like you two to go a couple of rounds,” he gestured to a man.

  Thorel looked at the red faced young man breathing heavily on one side of the dirt circle. He was soft and pudgy, wearing the wood and leather vest used for practice. He held his blunted long blade's handle with the tip in the dirt while he thirstily gulped water down. His short shock of blondish red hair was soaked in sweat.

  “He looks like he could use a rest sir,” Thorel said, hoping to avoid this engagement.

  “He always looks that way, man, but I get your meaning. Fine, I'll warm you up and then you two can have a go at it, ok?” Errol said hopefully.

  “Very well. Go easy on me sir,” Thorel said, resigned. He went to the rack to pick out a vest.

  “I won't put ya into the infirmary man, but I'll give you a swat for every mistake you make, I promise you,” He said with a friendly grin.

  Thorel grimaced at that and stepped into the circle.

  “Defend yourself!” Errol yelled coming at Thorel quickly.

  Thorel brought the long blade up as quickly as he could. He wa
s quick enough, but the weight and balance of the weapon were so unnatural in his hand it was clumsy.

  They went through a few more exchanges, with Thorel defending as well as he could. When Thorel finally made a thrust at Errol, the man slid the blade aside and poked him hard in the belly of his vest.

  “You're dead, man. Nice try though. Good timing,” Errol said with a curt nod.

  “Thank you, sir. That was an excellent counter,” Thorel bowed respectfully.

  “Easy move. I'll show you when you're better at the basics. You ready for more?” He asked.

  “I suppose so sir,” Thorel said. I might as well since I'm already here.

  “Good. Guithenus! You're up!” Errol yelled.

  The young red-faced man got up and walked into the circle tiredly.

  “Alright you two, you're both terrible with the blade. I expect you to use this chance to learn more about your weapons,” Errol said looking at them both.

  “I'm tired sir,” Guithenus said.

  “You get tired just watching people work, man!” Errol admonished. Several people outside the dirt circle laughed heartily at that.

  “Miss Fenel said your buttery little balls were mine for an hour every other day, and you're gonna be working on your skills at least half the time you're with me! By the spirits, you'll be at least half a man when I'm done with you!” He yelled to more laughter from around the circle.

  Thorel's brow furrowed. He didn't care for the mocking of the others from outside the circle. He didn't like the way the drill instructor spoke to him either, but he held his tongue.

  Thorel looked at this man, and instantly knew this was an unfair match. Guithenus looked as if he hadn't done a single days work in his life. He would do as the instructor had asked him though.

  “Ready? Begin!” Errol yelled.

  Thorel circled him. Guithenus also circled, but clumsily. Thorel struck at him experimentally, and the soft man deflected the blow with his sword. He lost his grip when the blades collided.

  “Good strike, Tangarth! Pick up your sword, man!” Errol yelled.

  Guithenus shook his hand as if it was numb and picked up the fallen blade. He gave up trying to keep up with Thorel's circling and instead took the center of the circle and turned while Thorel circled. He kept up better.

  “Good man, work with your weaknesses!” Errol called.

  Guithenus struck at him, and Thorel deflected the blow. When he did Guithenus lost his grip on his blade again.

  “What's wrong with you, man? You keep dropping your sword!” The instructor yelled.

  “He hits hard, and it's too heavy, sir!” He replied.

  “What you want a short blade instead?” Errol asked, to the laughs of the men and women around the circle.

  Thorel was beyond irritation and said; “We're done here. I concede to you man,” he bowed his head to his opponent.

  More laughter ensued. “Congratulations on your first win, porky!!” One of the onlookers yelled.

  “Come on, let's go,” Thorel nodded to Guithenus.

  Guithenus tentatively walked to Thorel after picking up his sword. He panted heavily.

  “Now just one minute, man! He's mine for another twenty minutes,” Errol jumped in front of him and looked up into Thorel's eyes challengingly.

  Thorel didn't think: he just reacted. He struck Errol in the chest with his palm. He didn't follow through with the blow when he realized what he was doing though.

  Errol's eye's bulged. Thorel's blow lifted him from the ground: when he landed he skidded and came to a stop nearly two yards away. He wheezed painfully trying to catch his breath.

  The crowd was silent.

  Thorel knew he had erred gravely. He pulled his practice vest off and placed his sword back on the rack. Guithenus just stood there with his mouth open looking at Mr. Errol, then at him.

  “Are you just going to stand there, man?” Thorel asked him. Guithenus shook his head and pulled his vest off hastily.

  A couple of the bystanders went to help Errol up. He cried out in pain.

  Thorel walked over. “I'm sorry I hurt you, man,” he said sincerely. He had never struck anyone in anger before, but it was done. The consequences would find him, and he would face them when they did.

  “I'll be speaking to Miss Fenel of this,” Errol wheezed painfully.

  “Very well,” Thorel said with a nod. He was certain she would not let him off easily for this act of uncalled for violence. That was only proper though.

  With Guithenus in tow, Thorel walked away from the practice circle.

  The crowd parted to let them pass.

  * * *

  They walked for a time in silence. Thorel was brooding on what had just happened and the possible consequences. He had been wrong to strike the man, but he was sure that Errol wasn't teaching his charge: he was mocking him. There was no cause for that in his mind.

  “I'm Hannon Guithenus sir,” the man said to him.

  Thorel was shaken from his thoughts. “I'm Thorel Tangarth. Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “I hope you don't get into too much trouble sir,” Hannon said.

  “If I do, I brought it on myself. Don't concern yourself,” Thorel said, wondering what the consequences were going to be.

  “Are you a Holder of House Dothranan?” He asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Ah. I'm a guest. My father signed an alliance with your Mistress,” Hannon said quietly.

  Thorel was surprised to hear this. “That was no way for them to treat a guest then. Thank you. That may help me with the trouble I've caused for myself.”

  The clock tower struck the eleventh hour. The people in the Manor's yard began talking excitedly and moving quickly towards the Manor's gate.

  “What's happening?” Thorel asked the nearest person.

  “Didn't you hear? They found the saboteur! The Mistress is going to pass judgment at half past the hour!” The man said.

  “Thank you,” Thorel said.

  “You're welcome, man!” He said and moved along quickly.

  “You're a Holder and you didn't hear about this?” Hannon asked, surprised.

  “I'm at the Academy all week until Friday afternoon,” Thorel replied.

  “Oh, well that explains it. They announced it yesterday on the big speaking stones,” Guithenus said.

  “Who was it?” Thorel asked while they walked.

  “I don't remember the name, but they said it was the person that planted the detonation stones that killed one-hundred-thirty-six holders,” he replied.

  “Let's go then,” Thorel said. He wanted to see what that kind of monstrous person would look like.

  * * *

  They found themselves at the Dothranan prison after catching a crowded wagon heading that way. There were more guards than Thorel had ever seen: they surrounded the prison in three ranks holding cudgels in addition to their other arms. Guards were on the surrounding rooftops holding bows with knocked arrows. There was another group in four ranks surrounding the gallows. They held shields and cudgels in the first two ranks and staffs in the third and fourth. The soldiers prevented anyone from approaching.

  Why there were so many guards was readily apparent. There were three times as many angry Holders present. They shouted various things, but there was one unifying message- outrage. The crowd was so loud; Thorel could scarcely hear himself think.

  Thorel did not like the feelings that were washing over him here. He had been angry before, but these Holders' fury caught a hold of him. He could feel it. It felt as if it soaked his body from the inside out. It felt horrible. He was starting to think that coming here wasn't a good idea.

  He could see on the stand of the gallows, there was a cage that was surrounded by guards. They held steel shields as tall as they were and left no openings.

  The crowd started quieting. Thorel could see the guards surrounding the gallows parting for another group of Dothranan guards. Thorel could see Magik: two of the people among the
m held Magikal barriers over themselves. One was Ari; the other was a tall well dressed man he had not seen before. The man held a Wizards staff, like Mistress Thenna's. He had four spirits following him. They climbed the steps to the gallows in a leisurely manner.

  The crowd quieted. The constant thrum had dulled to an angry whisper.

  “Who is that with the Mistress?” Thorel asked Hannon, now that he could be heard.

  “I don't know. But for something like this, it would have to be a Wizard,” Hannon replied.

  That makes sense. Thorel thought. For a crime that resulted in death, a punishment of death was likely. In his Basic Magikal Principles class, he had learned that a Wizard must verify the guilt of the perpetrator in such cases. Such determinations were one of the most important functions of Wizards in the realm, which was why they were held to such rigorous standards by the Wizards Council. Thorel liked the idea that one day he may have a part in ensuring only the guilty were punished.

  The crowd quieted completely when Ari raised her hand for silence. She stood tall in her black dress with the Dothranan sigil on her left breast.

  Thorel could see a thread of Magik come from Ari, and when she spoke her voice was broadcast by the large speaking stone on top of the prison building behind her.

  “Holders, I am here today to stand in judgment of Holder Megan Valor.” The guards with the shields stepped away from the cage on the gallows. The barrier Ari wove expanded to cover the cage when they moved.

  The caged woman wore plain gray clothing. Her red hair was cut short, and her face was bruised. She held on to the bars of her cage with a look of resignation. Some people yelled obscenities, and others hurled whatever was at hand at her. She winced as the objects harmlessly struck the Magikal barrier before her.

  Thorel had half expected to see a monster in that cage, not a battered woman that looked no different from many others he had seen.

  Ari continued, “Under questioning, she admitted to placing the Detonation stones under Lord Quarrel’s orders. These stones destroyed our buildings, killing our friends and loved ones. I confirmed she was speaking truthfully with my Magik.” The crowd roared angrily hearing this, drowning out all other sound.