by Jon Bender
Death Mage’s Nemesis
Jonathan Bender
The Death Mage Series
Death Mage’s Ascent
Death Mage’s Fury
Death Mage’s Curse
Death Mage’s Nemesis
Copyright © 2016 By Jonathan Bender
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The Fifteen Kingdoms
Chapter 1
The sun shone down on him from a nearly cloudless sky. The trees on his right cast their shadows over the road, helping to keep him cool in the midday heat. Keller sat atop his brown mare and watched as a hawk circled above the empty field to his left. The bird suddenly dropped into a sharp dive, its talons outstretched toward the short grass below. From its speed, he thought for sure that the feathered creature would hit the ground hard enough to break its frail body, but at the last second it slowed before making contact. The strike was followed by a squeal of pain and terror. Quickly beating its wings, the bird returned to the air with a small rodent held in its grip. Keller watched for several more seconds as the bird flew off into the distance, the image reminding him how brutal the world truly was. For that majestic creature to survive and even flourish, it had no choice but to prey on others to continue living. Men were no different. They had the facility to rise above their base, beastly nature, but chose not to. Instead, they continued to prey upon each other as the hawk and its doomed prey. That was the way it had always been until Or’Keer had come to them. The Dark God was with them now, and he had shown them a better way. He had shown them the path.
Turning his eyes forward to the wide road, a horse drawn cart had appeared heading in the opposite direction while he had been watching nature at work. On the driver’s bench guiding the animal, a man in commoners’ work clothes sat with reins in hand. Next to him wearing a simple grey dress was a woman who Keller assumed to be the man’s wife. Behind them in the wagon itself, were two boys surrounded by trunks and furniture. The two young men, in their mid-teens, leaned out over the side to get a better look at Keller. Looking at the family, he continued his comparison of men to the rest of the natural world. In many ways, men were no different from the bird. They caused suffering so that they could continue to exist as any other creature, but many went beyond that. Subjugating not only other animals, but their own kind as well. All to obtain more than was needed to survive. It was this greed that destroyed so many lives. Even this simple family, who had likely spent much of their lives under the rule of corrupt nobles before Or’Keer had liberated them, would not hesitate to step on others to attain a higher position if they had the chance. It was this inherent flaw in men that reaffirmed Keller’s belief in the Dark God every day. Or’Keer was the only path to true prosperity for all. Under his guidance all men were equal – from the highest king to a beggar in the street. Keller was not so much a fool to think that men would ever rid themselves of social standing or wealth. These things kept order among creatures that would destroy themselves through greed and gluttony. While it was not possible to remove this trait from the hearts of men, those who served the Dark God could, with enough time, dismantle the inherent perception that those with power were better than those without.
He was intimately familiar with the depravity of the wealthy. Men and women who did whatever they wanted to those they thought beneath them. One in particular still brought feelings of anger raging back, even many years later. He and his older brother had knocked on the door of a rich merchant asking for work, a fat man who always seemed to have a wine-filled cup in his hand. They had offered to work the entire day for him for five copper pieces each, but the merchant had seen their desperation and would only give them two. Being so young, Keller had thought the man smiled because he had just haggled a better deal for himself. Now that he was older, he understood that the money had meant nothing to the merchant, he had simply enjoyed taking advantage of them because he could. However, that had not been the end of the fat man’s immorality. He had separated the brothers by sending Bellin off to a storeroom while Keller had gone to the small stable to muck out the stalls. Keller had not heard the merchant sneak up on him until it was too late and he was pinned against the coarse wood of the stall. He could feel the fat man fumbling with the bit of rope at Keller’s waist that held up his pants, the merchant’s hot breath smelling of stale wine on his neck. In that moment, Keller remembered the warnings from his mother of what evil men liked to do to those weaker than themselves. Though he knew what was about to happen to him, he was so afraid that he couldn’t move. Closing his eyes, he tried to forget where he was and go to a place he felt safe, but couldn’t think of anywhere. He had never felt truly safe during his young life.
The man jerked hard behind him before slumping forward and falling to the ground amongst rotting hay and manure. Pushing himself away from the stall, Keller turned slowly to find Bellin standing there, a wooden shovel in his hand as he looked down at the unconscious merchant. Lifting his eyes to Keller, filled with unshed tears, he tossed the shovel to the side. Kneeling next to the fat man, Bellin pulled the coin purse from his belt before grabbing Keller by the hand. They never went near that house again but, in the end, it didn’t matter. Both Bellin and their mother would be dead months later at the hands of a minor noble. A man who had refused to pay after she had given him her body.
Keller had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t paid any attention to the family approaching, or noticed when the man had reined in the worn mares. He was already past the horses when he realized that someone had spoken.
“What?” Keller said, stopping his horse. The memory put anger in his voice that he had not intended.
The man looked nervously at Keller, his eyes shifting quickly to his family and back again. “Forgive me, holiness. I only asked if you would grant us Or’Keer’s blessing. We are loyal servants of the true god, and only wished to offer our respect to him and you.”
He felt the tension in his face and forced his features to smooth before speaking again. These humble people did not deserve his ire for the sins of someone long dead. The man thought him a priest of Or’Keer. A mistake that happened often, because of the dark robes he wore similar to those of the brotherhood.
“I’m not a priest of Or’Keer, but one of his chosen.” One of three now that Tandis was dead at the hands of the death mage. He didn’t mourn the prince’s loss. The young Kelran had represented everything Keller hated about those who thought themselves better than others.
The worry in the man’s face became fear. A fear that was reflected in the eyes of his family. “I beg your forgiveness again, Magus. Had I known, I would not have bothered you.”
Keller raised a hand to stave off any further apologies. “There is nothing to be forgiven. What is your name?”
“Vulgin Rogard, Magus,” the man said, his voice quavering slightly.
Keller understood the man’s concern at being in his presence. The mages in the eastern kingdoms had a reputation for being brutal to anyone who crossed their path. Even those mages who had sworn their lives to Or’Keer after the purges, would think nothing at causing these people harm for no other reason than they had spoken out of turn. Keller despised the mages of the other schools for that. It was another symptom of the same disease that afflicted all that held power. Or’Keer needed them to further his goals against the old gods, and so Keller tolerated them. When all of the fifteen kingdoms were finally on the path, she
dding the chains of oppression placed on them, Keller would turn his attention to teaching all those with power over other men that such abuse would no longer be tolerated.
“Where are you coming from?” Keller asked.
“We left Karadin this morning heading for Dj’eba. Word has reached the city that the forces of the old gods have allied with the Ostegan queen and are heading here.”
Keller was aware that King Corin had indeed moved his so-called alliance into Ostega. The march came after he had killed all of the Bruxan royal family except the youngest daughter – a girl who was likely little more than a puppet through whom he ruled. Vil’Real, the kingdom between Ostega and Fenaris, was now all that stood between them and the alliance. Even Or’Keer had not expected them to move so quickly across the fifteen kingdoms, and his army had not had time to fully gather. Much of Vil’Real was loyal to the dark god, but it was not yet completely under their control. Their operatives in the kingdom would do all they could to slow the advance, but it was only a matter of time before that kingdom fell before the alliance as well.
“So, you intended to flee before the enemies of your god arrived?” Keller’s anger soaked his words. At first, he had felt some sense of pity for them, but now there was only contempt. This man had run away when he and his sons should have stayed to support the struggle against King Corin and his followers, people who followed the old gods and would do anything to keep the power they had over others.
“We are not fighters. We would only be in the way,” Vulgin said, his hands wringing the reins. His wife had tensed at hearing Keller’s accusation, and laid a hand on her husband’s thigh to stop him from saying more.
Keller knew that he should punish them immediately. Their faith in Or’Keer was weak and needed to be reaffirmed – his god would have demanded it were he present. Instead he pushed the thought aside. They were faithful, otherwise they would have not asked for the dark god’s blessing. Fear of what was coming had driven them to flee, and he could not blame them for it. But neither could he allow them to continue on without reprimand.
“You will return with me to Karadin,” Keller told them. “There you will go to the temple and ask the priests to guide you in gaining Or’Keer’s forgiveness for your lack of belief in his path.”
“Magus, please…” Vulgin began to say.
Keller’s patience ran out and he lifted his hand toward the man. He felt the shadows around him, those cast by himself, the family’s cart, and the nearby trees. All people knew that light held power, a power that was absorbed by the plants and then conveyed to all the animals that consumed them. Those animals where then in turn preyed upon by others, further transferring the energy. What most were not aware of, was that the darkness held a power of its own. Harnessed by the Dark God, the ability to control it was given to the priests and chosen so that they could perform his will. On such a bright day, and if the family was paying close attention, they would be able to see how the space around them darkened slightly as that power flowed into him. Concentrating that energy, a clawed gauntlet made of shadow formed around his hand then shot out to grip Vilgin around the throat. As he struggled against the unbending magic, Keller squeezed slightly to further show his displeasure. Vulgin’s wife screamed as she gripped the folds of her dress and began begging for Keller not to harm him. The older of the two boys had stood in the back of the wagon and gripped the hilt of a dagger at his belt. Keller locked a passive stare on the lad, his unconcerned expression enough to cow the boy.
When the young man sat back down, Keller looked again at Vulgin. “You will return with me,” he repeated.
The man nodded in agreement as best he could before Keller gave one more squeeze with the gauntlet and released the cast.
Vulgin drew in a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed at his neck. Now free of Keller’s magic, the man’s wife threw her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder.
Certain they would not dare to disobey after his display, Keller gently heeled his horse into motion without waiting to see if Vulgin followed.
As he continued to the walled city of Karadin, Keller was passed by a patrol of mounted soldiers wearing chainmail and grey livery. Embroidered on their chest was a figure of man, his form solid black and outlined in silver thread representing Or’Keer. The soldiers regarded him and the family for only a moment before moving on, likely deciding that to question a priest of Or’Keer was not a wise idea. If they had known who Keller really was, they would have taken the time to show more respect.
Keller had no issue with the priests. They did the important work of converting people to the path, and he knew it was foolish to feel prideful about being mistaken for one. Still, he wanted to be recognized for what he was – Or’Keer’s chosen; one of the few who had been seen worthy to receive his power directly. In any case, he found the robes cumbersome. The chosen had only decided on them because of tradition set down by other schools of magic but, considering that reason more deeply, he knew the shadow mages were not like the other schools and should not try to be. Having come to a decision, Keller resolved that his first errand would be to find a tailor and have him make something to distinguish what he was from the brotherhood.
It wasn’t long before he came around a bend in the road to take in the large city. As a child, Or’Keer’s priests had insisted that he study many subjects so that he could better serve their god. Those studies had included mathematics, writing, lessons of the natural world, and above all else, history. Understanding the suffering men had endured at the hands of the old gods allowed those loyal to Or’Keer to guide them to a better future. It was because of his education that he knew Karadin had been built thousands of years ago, and may have been one of the first cities ever created by men. Throughout the centuries it had been razed and rebuilt may times over. After centuries of constructing over the rubble, the city now looked to be sitting atop a large hill. An unknowing person would never suspect that a vast network of underground rooms and passages still existed underneath. Since the last time it was destroyed and rebuilt, the city had grown well past the limits of its walls.
It was the city’s location that had resulted in such prosperity and a turbulent history. The border between Fenaris and Vil’Real was over ten days’ travel to the south for a lone man on horseback, and Karadin was constructed on the narrowest part of the river that offered the only natural barrier between the two kingdoms. Three bridges connected the two sides of the walled city, with no others having been allowed to be built on any other part of the river. This would force any aggressor to take the city before they could move north into the eastern kingdoms. The defense also had the effect of forcing traders through Karadin in order to travel further east. The constant flow of trade made the city wealthy. But with trade came crime and other vices, making it one of the most dangerous cities under Or’Keer to live in.
After the city had been brought to the path, the temples of Or’Keer had tried to eradicate the thieves’ guilds, brothels, gambling dens, and even abolishing the sale of wine and ale for a short time – all in the hope of curbing corruption. They soon gave up after realizing it was impossible to stamp them out completely. Every time one of these establishments was found and eradicated, another would almost immediately take its place. In the end, it was decided to let them continue to operate as long as their activities were kept out of sight. Action was now taken only when these businesses interfered with the city’s devotion to Or’Keer or disrupted trade on a large scale. When this happened, it was dealt with harshly. This strategy had the result of creating a balance between the temples and criminal element. Crimes were still punished when an offender was caught, but it was no longer sought out with fervor.
Approaching the outer city, Keller could already see soldiers and priests on the road ahead, their forms distorted through waves of heat radiating off the ground. This was the farthest south he had ever been in his life, and he was surprised by how much hotter it was. All his childhood years had been spe
nt in the chilled kingdom of Etear’a to the north, and he was not accustomed to such heat.
It was in the kingdom of his birth that he had served Or’Keer, doing whatever the priests had asked of him, all to further their god’s influence until the entirety of the land prayed only to him. When he finally reached the age of maturity, the dark god had granted him his magic, and with it, Keller and the other chosen had gone to Fenaris and then Sarathith to show the path to the people who lived there. Many resisted at first, the kings of those lands struggling to fight back even as their armies converted to the worship of Or’Keer. Eventually, all came to understand that Or’Keer was the only god worthy of worship. Since then, Or’Keer’s plan had changed. The dark god was consolidating his power in the eastern kingdoms as those loyal spread his word to the west in preparation for his coming, the only minor setback being due to Tandis’s failures and this death mage who had been interfering. Soon, those loyal to Or’Keer would move out in force to bring all fifteen kingdoms and beyond to the righteous path.
“Good afternoon, brother,” one of the priests said, as Keller reined in his horse just outside the city. Again, he had not been recognized as Or’Keer’s chosen, further confirming the need for a change of attire.
Keller nodded to them in greeting. “I am Magus Keller, here at the command of our god,” he said.
The soldiers, who had at first looked bored, now stood straighter with shoulders back and faces blank of emotion. Even the two priests seemed on edge at finding themselves before one the chosen. He and the others had gained the reputation for leading purges when a city or town was found wanting in their loyalty to Or’Keer. When the dark god decided that the unfaithful were too great in number, soldiers and priests were no safer from scrutiny than the common people or nobles.