Restriction: A Kurtherian Gambit Series (The Rise of Magic Book 1)

by CM Raymond

  “The answer to both of those questions is the same. But let me ask you, when you helped your brother that day on the street, how did you feel?”

  Hannah cocked her head as she was thinking through her answer. Ezekiel waited patiently.

  “I guess I felt like there was something inside of me trying to get out. All my fear and frustration, plus my concern for my brother, it was like they were feeding something. Something that was hungry for more.”

  “Exactly! That force that’s inside of you, it’s what allows you to do magic. It allows you to tap into a world of pure energy called the Etheric. That’s where our magic comes from. But that desire needs to be controlled. At first, only a select few had it—those you refer to as the Matriarch and the Patriarch had it. But then it spread to everyone, the whole world. And most didn’t have the will to control it.

  “Most couldn’t tap into the etheric like you were. So, that desire turned into a hunger, and flesh and blood were the only ways to satisfy the absolute need they had to get at the energy.”

  The two of them started walking again. “The Madness spread this potential throughout the world, destroying people in its wake. But from the ashes, something wonderful arose. A switch was flipped that turned that hunger from something monstrous to something wonderful. From madness… to magic.”

  Ezekiel had gotten lost in his words. When he finished his speech and looked down at Hannah, she had a look of awe on her face as she looked back at him.

  “That’s what you figured out,” she asked, completely into his story as well.

  “Me? No,” he waved his hand in negation, “I was the flip switcher, but it was the Oracle who figured out how to do it. How to save the human race.”

  Hannah’s look of awe quickly disappeared as she rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Shit. You’re telling me that the Oracle is real, too?”

  He regarded the young woman, a frown on his face. “Of course, she’s real. Why wouldn’t she be?”

  The girl shook her head. “Zeke, you’ve missed a lot while you’ve been out walking Irth. Arcadia, it’s a different place. Most of us don’t go to school to learn things. We educate ourselves on the streets. The Capitol, they like it that way. Our ignorance, our powerlessness gives them power. But you hear a lot of stories, and it’s hard to figure out what’s real and what’s a steaming pile of pig shit.”

  She breathed deep and then continued, “My mom used to tell me about the Oracle. But I thought those stories were just like the Queen Bitch and the Bastard. Cute stories to keep us all out of trouble, or try to give us some sort of hope and meaning.”

  Ezekiel felt his face tighten with the girl’s words. He had to remind himself that there was no reason why she couldn’t understand the world as it really was.

  He spoke firmly, but with conviction balanced with compassion, “Hannah, first, never speak of the Matriarch and Patriarch that way. They are as real as you and me, and they deserve—no, they command—our respect.”

  “But—” she started, an arm already flinging out.

  This time, he put up his own hand. “No buts. Just hear me out. You can wrestle with what you believe later. For now, you need new information. Secondly, the Oracle is real and has a name—which is Lilith. And she is a very powerful creature who holds knowledge about truths so complex that even hearing them would likely scramble your brain.”

  He could see her brain firing fast as she caught on to how he described the Oracle. “Wait, creature? She’s not human?”

  The man realized there was so much that the girl would have to learn. “Lilith is not simple enough to be categorized in ways that we might understand. Someday, I will show you. But now is not that time.”

  “OK, I guess, Dr. Mystery. So, back to the zombies.”

  Ezekiel nodded. “My colleagues and I followed Lilith’s instructions to a tee and were able to stop, and in some cases even reverse, the effects of the outbreak. It was an amazing and dangerous time. We lost several of the best and the bravest. But what we found is that once people stopped succumbing to the disease, something was left in its place.

  “The power that was within every person—the power that indiscriminately poisoned its host—was the source of magic in our world. We started to realize that it was in all of us, but the power was still dangerous. Only those that were strong enough to control the power could use it as magic in the world. Some died trying. Others, so scared of its effects, bottled the power up inside of them.”

  “Are you saying that everyone can do magic?”

  “Not quite. Everyone does have the power within them. It’s not unique to the nobles. Even back then, we didn’t make this publicly known. To try and draw on the power is very dangerous. Many people harm themselves in the process. One should only practice if they are led by a mentor—someone to shepherd them in the unfolding of the source.

  “My friends and I focused on the magic and how to use it. It was by magic that we started to heal the world. And we wanted to spread this knowledge, so by using magic, we built Arcadia.”

  “And you’re afraid that, by magic, Adrien is going to tear it all down?”

  Ezekiel looked at his new student. He wondered how much to tell her. How much of this world should he keep from her, to protect her? But the look on her face told him everything.

  She had been through hell already. It’s what made her strong enough to fight the devil.

  He breathed out, resigned to the truth, as much as it hurt him to admit it. “That’s precisely what is going to happen. Unless we stop him.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  As the sun drifted closer to the horizon outside the giant bay window overlooking Arcadia, Adrien shuffled through paperwork. A paper updating him on the progress with the machine indicated that things were better but still not up to speed. The Chief Engineer had increased their pace, but it came at a cost. Several of the men “assigned” to the project had burned out.

  When the young and inexperienced pushed their power too far, it could easily happen. Now they were being carted to the infirmary two by two. No matter. It was a cost this city could bear. He shook his head and turned to the list of prospective students the Dean had sent to him.

  He had an academy to run, after all.

  A number sat in the side margin next to the names. It was his goal of how many students to accept. In reality, the more important number was the remainder, those who were denied access. That was the key. Deny access. Create scarcity. Elevate the prestige. It made the few who were accepted eternally grateful to their Chancellor.

  Picking up his pencil, he drew a line through the number and increased it by twenty-percent. What’s a few more—especially when the ones you have are dropping like flies? He would need a few more for what was to come.

  A knock on the door interrupted his calculations. “Enter!” he called out, still considering the changes to the number of students to allow in.

  Doyle stepped in, closed the door and walked up to his desk, waiting silently.

  Adrien looked up from his planning, “Speak, damn it. What is it?”

  Doyle’s eyes glanced down, taking in the altered numbers. He cursed his bad timing. When Adrien got mad, everyone around him suffered.

  “Sir, you asked for the Hunters and Guard to be on the lookout for anyone matching the description of the magician who attacked our men. Well, I think we’ve had a hit.”

  A sinister smile spread across the Chancellor’s face. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean, he didn’t look like a devil-monster or whatever, but everything else seems to check out. Do you want me to send in a team of Hunters to secure the Unlawful?”

  Adrien stood up from his desk and reached back behind him. “No. I will take care of this one myself.” Before Doyle had a chance to respond, Adrien threw on his blood red cloak and made for the door.

  *****

  The Chancellor hardly ever left the Academy, let alone traveled into the other quarters. As he made his way throu
gh the crowds, people gawked at his presence. He was a celebrity, and it was the closest that many of the commoners would get to greatness. Following the path described to him by Doyle, he wove through the dirty streets toward the heart of the market quarter.

  Rotting food and other filth wafted up from the gutters. It reminded him exactly why he stayed within the walls of the Academy, and why magic would be wasted on people that lacked any sense of dignity. Turning a corner, he ran into a beggar with hands outstretched.

  “Alms, sir?”

  “Out of my way,” he said, as he drove his elbow through the old woman, knocking her over.

  Standing in the dead center of the square, he rotated, looking for the man who had taught him magic. Ezekiel gave him the keys to the kingdom, and he had made that kingdom great. But something told the Chancellor that his old teacher hadn’t come back from the dead to congratulate him on his progress. The Arcadians prayed for the day when their Founder would return. Adrien intended to keep their prayers in vain.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien caught a glimpse of an old man in a long brown cloak. Just as he turned the corner to leave the square, the man glanced over his shoulder and cast a smile in Adrien’s direction.

  Ezekiel. I’ve got you, old friend.

  Adrien raced in the direction of the man’s path. Ten yards down the road, the man turned left and Adrien followed, walking as briskly as possible without drawing too much attention. He pushed on. Although Adrien was hurrying, and the old man seemed to take his time, he somehow maintained his distance.

  The Chancellor could feel his pulse rising and sweat gathering on the small of his back. Casting aside all semblance of self-control, he started to jog. On the seam where the market transitioned into Queen’s Boulevard, he turned a corner and stood face-to-face with his old mentor.

  “Hello, Adrien,” Ezekiel said. “I wondered when we would meet again. It’s been a long time. You look good. Better than you should.”

  Adrien’s stomach tied in a knot. He worked to compose his breathing as he stared. “I should say the same. All this time, we thought you were dead.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you. But imagine my disappointment at returning home and learning that my trust was misplaced all along.”

  Adrien tried to turn on his charm. “Come now, Ezekiel, you have to understand. After a year, under Eve’s urging, we sent out parties looking for you. They scoured the corners of Irth, but here you are. Finally returning to our dear Arcadia.” He pushed a smile across his face.

  “Yes, Adrien. Wait. Should I call you Chancellor?” A sneer spread under the magician’s beard.

  “Adrien is fine,” he said, wanting to wrap his fingers around the old man’s wrinkled neck.

  “Ah, then Adrien. Good to know that you were so concerned. I saw Eve. She isn’t good. And strange that she urged you as she did. She knew why I left and, in the end, never expected me to return. And you mentioned our great city, but is it really so great?”

  Ezekiel waved his arm in the direction of the squalor of Queen’s Boulevard that spread out behind him. “Look at what you have done. You’ve turned our dream into a damned nightmare. They’re people, Adrien, and they suffer under your hand.”

  Adrien sneered, keeping himself in check. “You are quite a fool aren’t you, Ezekiel? I thought that maybe some time wandering Irth might change you, but now I see that you are as stubborn as ever. You are the consummate idealist, and now I know that will never change. Ideals are for children and idiots. We were both children once. Our dreams were grown together, but one of us has grown into a man, the other,” he looked Adrien up and down, “into a fool. Yes, you can patronize me with your high-mindedness.”

  Adrien pointed around them both, “You can point to the lazy scum that huddle in masses in Queen Bitch Boulevard, you can groan about your precious kingdom perverted,” he slammed his fist to his chest, “by my shrewd machinations, but you know nothing of what I have built and the greatness that Arcadia has become. And when everything is in place, we will be the greatest city in all of Irth and beyond its boundaries. We’re creating a legacy here that will rival the old days. And you and your dreams will be nothing.”

  Adrien spat the last words at the old magician.

  Ezekiel narrowed his eyes and pointed at his prodigal student. “Enough. You make excuses and rationalize the works of your hands, but you bring only ruin. And one day this ruin,” he looked around before finishing with Adrien, “will catch up with you. What plans of yours could be worth that risk?”

  Adrien shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You will never live to see it.”

  This time it was Ezekiel’s turn to laugh. “Adrien. Adrien. Adrien. How cute. You could never beat me back then. What makes you think you can beat me now?” He raised his bushy brows, a twinkle in his eye and waited for a response.

  Anger and rage grew inside of the Chancellor. His blood boiled and power swelled. The new Master of Arcadia would end it right there in the streets in an alley that probably had no name.

  “I am no longer that boy you left behind.”

  Adrien laughed, this time more sinister than before. He drew on the passion inside of him, his hatred for the man standing before him. Adrien’s eyes turned coal black.

  Cupping his hands in front of his chest, he brought all that was within him into focus. As he spread his hands apart, a sphere of radiant blue translucent light grew larger and larger until it blocked his view of the wizard.

  He drove every ounce of energy and intention into the ball of power, and just as he felt the last ounce of energy leave his body, he drove his arms outward and toward his old mentor.

  Adrien watched as the most magnificent magic he’d ever created passed right through Ezekiel and collided with a brick wall forty feet away dividing Queen’s Boulevard from the rest of the quarters. The wall exploded, sending bits of shrapnel in every direction, some reaching back to hit him.

  Adrien shielded his eyes, and when he looked up, the wizard was looking at him just where he was a moment ago with a serene smile on his face.

  Ezekiel shook his head. “I’m sad to see I was able to teach you so little, Adrien, but there’s still time,” his smile turned to ice. “Soon, I will teach you one more lesson that you won’t live long enough to forget.”

  With that, the image of Ezekiel flickered and disappeared, leaving Adrien panting and alone in the forgotten alley.

  *****

  Hannah stumbled out of her room, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Sal had finally woken her up and now skittered along next to her. He looked like he had gained more weight.

  “What the hell are you eating?” she asked the no longer small lizard.

  Entering the great hall, she found Ezekiel sitting straight as a board, legs crossed on a mat on the floor. His eyes were open, but they glowed a brilliant red and stared off into the distance. She was used to the black eyes of the magicians in Arcadia, but she had never seen this before.

  She waved her hand in front of his face, but there was no response. Next to him was an empty mat with a mug holding a mysterious, steaming liquid. She took the cue and sat down, pulling her legs up under her.

  Picking up the mug, she sniffed it and scrunch her nose. It smelled like dirt, if dirt could die and rot like flesh. She sipped it, and the elixir tasted almost good.

  Nothing like its odor.

  “Root tea. I learned to brew it in the Heights,” Ezekiel explained, looking at her after he took in the larger green lizard sitting to the side.

  Hannah jumped at the man’s voice. His eyes were back to their normal steely gray.

  She looked at him over the mug as she sipped more before replying, “Not bad, even if it smells like the ass of an orc.”

  The man laughed as he sat up. “You make it sound so appealing. The power is not in its taste, but its effects. Just keep sipping on it. The tea will give you extra focus, and you’re going to need focus.”

  “More of your history lessons?” Ha
nnah closed her eyes and faked a yawn as she stretched. “You’re killing me, Zeke.”

  “It’s Ezekiel, and somebody will be killing you if you don’t know your history. The mistaken paths of our future have been trodden by someone else in the past. Always. However, we don’t have time to retrace all those paths. Today we start your training in physical magic,” he slowly stood up. “Sit up straight.”

  Hannah cranked her shoulders back and pretended a magician’s staff ran the length of her spine. “This is comfy.”

  “It will be.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say, Zeke. What were you doing when I came in here anyways?” She pointed to where he had been sitting down. “That didn’t look like physical magic.”