“This place smells!” exclaimed the sprite covering her nose. Her golden head twisted back and forth taking in her surroundings. “Is this a sewer?” Alphene screeched. Her tiny, high-pitched voice sounded overly harsh.
“Alphene, I need you to find my father, Xander Necros.”
The sprite flitted from one tunnel to the next before returning to the magicians. To Alia she said, “You owe me a great favor for this,” and wiggled a tiny finger in the woman's face. “I want a bushel of lavender, honeysuckle, and jasmine the next time you summon me.”
“You have my word,” Alia told her without hesitation and Byrn guessed that Alia found Alphene's demanding attitude as endearing as he did the sprite, Lauralee's sweet nature, such was the nature of such magical contracts.
Cheered for the moment, Alphene flew down the center tunnel. “This way,” she yelled back as her faint glow quickly started to shrink down the tunnel. The magicians followed, but found the going got more difficult the further they went. The tunnel rose at a slight incline that made it difficult for the humans to traverse through the sludge.
After a half hour the smell was so strong that Byrn covered his nose by pulling the side of his hood so that it covered half of his face. Alia pinched her nose shut and covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. Alphene kept repeating several words that Byrn did not recognize fiercely which he was fairly certain were swears in the sprite tongue.
An hour passed and the trio started heading up a steeper slope and each magician took to one side of the cramped tunnel to avoid the grime that flowed past them. They used their staves for purchase to keep their footing for the long climb until it finally started to level out.
Byrn began to feel safer that the men who were crossing the lake were not pursuing them, since they had heard no signs of pursuit from the tunnels behind them and he would have breathed a sigh of relief if it would not have required inhaling a lungful of the fecal smell that was intent on finding its way into his nose.
Alphene flew up a tunnel to the right with Byrn and Alia not far behind. When the magicians caught up to her she asked Alia to carry her through the next tunnel, because the sprite was feeling nauseous. “We are not far,” Alphene's voice was soft as a whisper and she put her little hand to her forehead theatrically.
A half hour more and Alphene called a stop announcing, “We are here.” She flew straight up into a small hole in the tunnel ceiling, but lacked the gusto she had a few hours earlier. A shout of surprise came from up the opening. Alia looked to Byrn hopefully and he nodded, recognizing the voice of Xander Necros. He was a mere dozen feet above them.
Alphene returned. Her golden light was a dim shimmer of its former bright glow. “He is going to stand as far away from the privy as he can.” To Alia the sprite said, “I have stayed far too long. The smell of human dung will probably never come out of my hair!”
“Understood,” Alia took the sprite's hand gingerly with her finger in a sign of appreciation. “You have my deepest thanks, Alphene. Rest assured I will repay this debt to you with the loveliest flowers I can find.” The sprite grew bright for a second and vanished for her long deserved rest.
“The rest is up to us,” Byrn said unable to completely mask his nervousness. Everything was going as planned, but he could not shake the feeling of dread that lingered being so close to the prison. He lifted his staff up so that it touched a piece of the stonework just to the right of the opening leading to Xander's cell and Alia did the same on the left side. They joined their free hands in the middle and began to chant so that their minds were centered as one. Energy poured from their staves and filled the opening. After a few minutes the hole began to expand, slowly at first as the elementalist and the enchantress worked the manipulation spell, but growing rapidly so that the hole expanded three times its size, nearly two feet wide when they were finished.
“I am coming down,” the hushed voice of Xander Necros echoed down the shaft. The faint sounds of scratching and exertion came from up the tunnel as Xander tried to brace himself as he descended. A shout came from the tunnel and a few seconds later Xander came crashing down into the tunnel, landing hard in the filth with a heavy grunt.
Alia abruptly stopped the spell and the tunnel became a small hole once more. She hugged her father ignoring the flow of refuse around them. Xander looked to Byrn with an unasked question and he mouthed Alia causing the old necromancer's eyes to grow wide in surprise. He pushed the young lady away to look at her, “My darling, Alia? Is it really you?”
“Yes, daddy,” she said her voice trembled with emotion. Tears ran down the woman's face and she hugged her father, the man stolen from her seventeen years earlier, all the more tightly.
Before long Xander could not contain his own tears as the joy of being reunited with his daughter along with his escape overwhelmed him. After some time both of the magicians regained their composure. This was a side of Xander and Alia that Byrn never imagined truly existed in either of them and he felt like an uneasy observer watching something transpire that was far more personal than he had a right to witness.
“Are the others nearby?” Byrn asked about his former cellmates hoping to bring the father and daughter back to the present and the precarious situation that they were still in.
The old necromancer took a minute to compose himself before answering. “Ryonus is in the cell next to mine.” Xander looked at the holes above him and pointed to one.
“And the others?” Byrn asked.
Xander shook his head, “Tell and Fredrik died in an escape attempt not long after you got out and Mantellus-”
“Mantellus somehow managed to escape too,” Byrn finished for him. “He is also dead.” Seeing Xander's curious expression, Byrn added, “We can discuss it later. Let us get Ryonus and leave this place.”
If Alia was confused by the mention of these other magicians, she made no indication. Instead she readied herself to cast the spell and free another of their brethren. Byrn and Alia cast the expansion spell once more, extending the hole much more quickly this time now that they were more in tune with each other while casting the spell together. “Hurry up, Ryonus!” Byrn shouted.
Ryonus handled the descent much more adeptly than Xander did. The master of manipulation landed on his feet with a splash in the muck kicking brown refuse up on the other magicians especially the younger pair who had been working the spell.
The sounds of other prisoners calling below to be rescued came through some of the other tunnels. “We should leave quickly,” Xander suggested. “The fools above will give us away.”
“We planned on rescuing Tell and Fredrik too,” Byrn told them, “We have an extra rune if there is anyone else nearby we can take.”
The voices of guards yelling could be heard coming from the holes in the ceiling a minute later as they discovered two of their prisoners missing.
“No, we should go,” Xander decided.
“I had hoped for more time,” Byrn told the others.
“We have done all we could,” Alia assured him, looking to Byrn who nodded in agreement after a moment.
“Stop them!” came a familiar voice from a mere fifty feet down the tunnel. The attire was different, but Byrn recognized Colum’s knight-captain, Kellen. A half dozen Kenzai guards who at his word charged the four magicians flanked Kellen. So they were spotted back at the lake, after all. Otherwise no one could have gotten down there so quickly.
Byrn stepped between his fellow magicians and the Kenzai before casting a wall of flames between the two groups. The sudden heating of the air seemed to make the stench a thousand times worse and Byrn was suddenly wishing he had erected a wall of ice instead.
To Byrn’s surprise the flame wall started to die down against his will. It only took a moment for him to realize that the Kenzai were absorbing the magic powering the flames. Byrn pressed his will harder, focusing and growing the fire just to keep the blaze going. The heat picked up in intensity and Byrn felt a momentary sense of relief that was instantly
squashed when Kellen, brandishing a pair of blue-white glowing plate gloves, burst through the flames.
“We need to go!” shouted Alia and she placed a hand on her father's shoulder. A moment later they were gone.
Byrn released the fire spell and pulled the rune from his cloak in one hand while grabbing Ryonus about the waist with his staff-wielding arm. He felt his body thrown into Ryonus’ as he worked the transportation spell. Then they were floating in the void and Byrn’s body was suddenly racked in pain as it was being torn apart. He could see Ryonus holding onto him tightly and was marveled to see the man’s body unraveling like he was made of yarn and being pulled apart at the edges and seams and he knew the same thing was happening to him.
What had Kellen done? Byrn wondered as he tried to fight through the pain and focus his mind enough to put them back together.
Kellen.
The stark realization that Kellen was in the void holding onto Byrn just as tightly as Ryonus hit him. So this is what happens when a magician tries to transport more than one person with him, he thought blankly.
Then he felt a sudden pulling as they were all being drawn back to the real world. Byrn did his best to set aside the pain and the fear that suddenly became his existence. He could not dare think about what would happen if they left the void ripped in tatters as they were. The young master magician reached out to those with him and began mentally reconstructing his fellow travelers and himself as much as he could before being pushed back into their own realm. His last thought was that he hoped he had done enough as their bodies came crashing back into the world of man.
Chapter 12
Alia and Xander Necros stood trapped in a dungeon cell before Tomlin, who regarded them with a smug grin. “Well, well. It looks like I caught some very powerful magicians.” The bard stretched his arms over his head. “I kind of like being the one with the power...”
“You are not as funny as you think you are, Tomlin,” Alia chastised her apprentice. “Now unlock the cell and let us out.”
Tomlin shrugged and laughed discarding his thinly worn mask of captor, “As you wish, my lady.” He unlocked the cell and released Alia and Xander. When Xander exited the cell Tomlin took his hand and shook it. “It is an honor to meet you, sir. Alia has told me great things about you.” Then the self-proclaimed bard realized that something was amiss. “Where is Byrn?” he asked surprised at his own genuine concern.
As if in answer to his question Byrn, Ryonus, and Kellen reappeared in the dungeon cell of the Collective’s castle landing in a mass of pain stricken bodies. Ryonus and Kellen held onto Byrn like he was a life preserver with pain etched across their faces. Byrn began to heave air at first, but soon he was vomiting uncontrollably. Kellen and Ryonus followed suit a moment later until the cell smelled of filth and bile.
Defying his olfactory senses, Tomlin entered the cell and pulled the men off of Byrn. Once his friend was free of their grip he pulled Byrn out of the cell. Following Tomlin’s lead, Xander and Alia each grabbed one of Ryonus’ arms and hauled him out of the cell.
“Close and lock that cell,” Xander ordered Tomlin and the young man moved to obey, but Alia stopped him.
“Belay that order, Tomlin,” she ordered. The bard wondered if she saw the flash of anger, then surprise on her father’s face. If she did, then she ignored it. “Move that man to another cell while he is still incapacitated. We still need this one available for transportation spells and, frankly, it will need a good cleaning.”
Tomlin acknowledged her order and did as she commanded. He noticed a slight grin crease the old grandmaster’s face and Tomlin guessed that the man’s momentary disapproval was replaced with pride at his child.
***
It was dawn by the time Byrn and Ryonus were resting comfortably in beds. Their prisoner, Kellen, was also resting comfortably although Old Father Skynryd did not put much effort into healing the man. The Kenzai warrior would likely be killed once everything had settled down and the old healer did not want to expend much energy helping an enemy, but Alia insisted that the man not be allowed to succumb to his injuries although she refused to explain why.
Tomlin was watching over the sleeping Kenzai warrior- stripped of his magical armor and warhammer. He was vigilant for any sign that the man might wake up. He could have secret knowledge that might allow the Collective to find another way into Baj and instead of freeing one or two magicians they could free dozens- perhaps hundreds of skilled and powerful spell weavers. Then they would be a force to be reckoned with.
As he was thinking of this, Xander Necros entered the room. For an old man, he had a decidedly springy step. It was a little surprising to Tomlin that this old man could be Alia’s father. There were similarities in some of their mannerisms that were unmistakable, but Xander was easily fifty years older than Alia. Not many people had children that late in life. Then again not many magicians lived to be that old either. Most magicians were either captured during childhood and never learned much of magic or died before they reached thirty. Only the lucky few like Tomlin, who was discovered by Alia when he was twelve, were given a chance to learn magic and still live outside of the kingdom’s laws.
“You are my daughter’s apprentice, are you not?” Xander asked pensively. Tomlin nodded. “This might seem like a strange request, but can you tell me about her? I have not seen her since she was a little girl.”
“Of course, grandmaster,” Tomlin let the title roll off his tongue and watched the old man for any hint of a reaction, anything that might indicate that Xander Necros was not truly a grandmaster as Alia and some of the others believed. When there was no reaction, the self-styled bard continued. “Alia is a very strong and self-assured woman.” Tomlin chuckled as he thought of his master. “That may be an understatement. She is the most determined person I know and I cannot remember ever seeing her falter.
“Alia founded the Collective and secured this land right under the kingdom’s nose. She personally tracked down and brought nearly every magician here together especially the other masters who were terribly difficult to track down. She is also a master of enchantment and skilled in most of the other disciplines.”
Xander lightly clapped the young enchanter on the shoulder in a show of camaraderie. The old man’s touch was so gentle that Tomlin wondered if this man had any real power left in his aged frame. Still, maybe the grandmaster’s true measure would not be found in the power that he could wield, but in the knowledge he could pass on to the younger generations. “The old lore of the magicians said that we once had the power to rival the gods, but that is not the case any longer. Do you know if there was any truth to those tales or is it all just myth and legend used to scare the normal children at bed time?”
“It is true in a way. Long, long ago magicians did wage war on the gods and even managed to kill many of them so that only a handful of them remain, but at that time magic was widely accepted and everyone could use it, unlike now where it can only be wielded by a small number of special people. Back then there were a hundred thousand magicians to every god. Put in those terms it tends to lessen the imagined power of the magicians, but that does not make as good a story does it?”
Tomlin clenched his fists at his sides. “So it was all just a story! Old Skynryd told me that vast amounts of knowledge had been lost since those times and that is why we are so much weaker in comparison to those old tales! I thought-!” The bard fell silent and looked at his feet while the old man waited patiently for Tomlin to collect his thoughts. Finally a more contrite Tomlin admitted, “That was unseemly of me. I am usually much better at keeping my emotions in check. It is just that I thought rescuing you would be a turning point for us and now you tell me that the old stories are lies and that there is not much difference between a master and grandmaster.”
The grandmaster of necromancy smiled a wicked grin at the bard, “I’m not sure that is exactly what I said. Many of the legends and songs you may have heard about the grandmasters of old are all
too true. There is a great deal of difference in both knowledge and power between what I can do and what you consider a master. Just as a student would be foolish to challenge his master, likewise today’s masters would be foolish to try and best one such as myself. One day soon you will behold the power at my disposal and you will not be disappointed.
“I have had years to do nothing, but think and plan. A thousand ideas on how to deal with Aurelia and its Kenzai warriors were considered and discarded. I was a fool to ever think that we could live beside those who hate and fear us, but my imprisonment has shown me the error of my ways. It was a momentary lapse in judgment that caused me to show them mercy and I will not make such a mistake again. We are going to build an army and take control of Aurelia. The Collective is a good start and will help us immeasurably, but it is only a beginning. We will force the kingdom to its knees and we will become the rulers of man!”
Chapter 13
Byrn awoke for the second time in his room after nearly dying, but this time he found he was not alone. Alia sat by his bed with her nose buried in a book. She did not know he was awake yet and Byrn took the moment to study the woman sitting at his bedside. She was beautiful, to be sure. Her soft features stood in stark contrast to the hard personality that developed over years of being on her own and a requirement of leading a group like the Collective, but she was not always so distant. It was rare, but at times she would let her guard down and a woman of not just determination, but compassion would reveal herself. It was this combination of strength and softness that drew Byrn to her as he had never been drawn to anyone before.
“How long have I been out?” Byrn asked trying to sit up. He grunted at the Herculean effort required to perform the simple task. His body ached all over in a general sense of pain like his entire body was one exposed nerve. His stomach turned and he thought he was going to be sick, but his belly was thankfully empty and soon the feeling passed.
Fallen Magician (The Magician Rebellion) Page 9