She turned and walked away from Andrades, with her parade of other Commissioners on her heels. When they turned the corner, Andrades exhaled as Edgar approached him.
“It went just as you planned, sir. He’s seen her now.”
“That’s right, Edgar,” Andrades responded. “I’ve had Salamandra take her to the castle. Sorrel and Izuul are already there. For months I’ve planned for this day and I’ll soon be able to take my rightful place in Mage Society, Edgar. I couldn’t have done it without you. You found the girl in England and led the boy here. You work will not go unrewarded.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Edgar. “The maidens should have Narcissa ready to make the trip. I’ll make sure everything is in order before I bring them here and we can proceed.”
“Thank you, Edgar.”
Edgar bowed. “Sir.”
He turned and walked down the hallway. A woman wearing royal blue robes with the hood slightly drawn over her face shuffled passed him as he turned the corner. Andrades watched, puzzled as to what she wanted as she approached.
“Commissioner Archibald, I was sent to deliver you a message,” she said. Her voice was soft but firm.
“Go on, Messenger.”
“Flamekeeper Belgarath wishes to see you in his chambers at once.”
“Thank you.”
The Messenger bowed before shuffling away.
Andrades balled his hand into a fist. Who did Belgarath think he was summoning him like a mere servant? Andrades didn’t respect Belgarath, not in the least nor did he respect that fact he was chosen to be Flamekeeper for this year’s War over himself. Why? The Stormgarde family only competed in the first Avatar War. Tor Stormgarde won it that year, and he became the first Avatar Champion in its history, but so what? They either didn’t have the courage or were too weak to join since.
He wondered why Belgarath urgently needed to see him. It couldn't have stemmed from what just occurred; even the Messengers couldn't relay information that fast. Instead of trying to rack his brain around the Flamekeeper’s reasoning, he went to find out for himself.
Several minutes passed before Andrades reached the Flamekeeper’s chambers. Two Guards wearing silver armor stood at a large steel double-door and when he approached, they opened the door. Stepping through, he entered a circular room at the top of the Bell Tower.
“Ah, Andrades, come in,” Belgarath welcomed.
He stood with his arms folded behind his back, looking out a window. The room was decorated in shades of green and brown, the chosen color of the Flamekeeper’s private chamber. When the Flamekeeper is chosen each year, they can change the private chambers to any design they see fit.
Andrades hated the look and the feel. It was bland and boring, much like Belgarath himself, he thought. Forcing a smile, he approached the Flamekeeper with his hand extended, hoping to finish with him quick so he could go on about his day.
“I was informed you needed to see me urgently, Flamekeeper?”
Belgarath shook his hand firmly. “Yes, have a seat, Andrades, please.”
Andrades walked to a couch that sitting in the center of the room. Belgarath joined him, sitting across from him and crossing his legs. He brushed off his white robes.
“So, how are things Andrades? How does it feel to be a Commissioner again? What has it been, four, five years?”
“Same as always, Belgarath,” said Andrades forcing a laugh. “Paperwork, robes, the tradition of it all. I missed it, you can say.”
“And your family? How are they?” Belgarath questioned.
“Good. Narcissa is making it, Saskia is out of the country visiting a friend and Sorrel has been keeping busy with his studies.”
“I see. I heard you had a rough month, with the deaths of Lyberia and Victor. I know how close you all were, I’m just glad to see you are doing okay.”
“Thank you, Belgarath… I appreciate the concern. I’m sorry, is this a social call?”
“Not quite. I’m just being courteous, is all,” Belgarath explained. “But, since you want to jump right into it, I will speak plainly with you, Andrades.”
Andrades' smile curled and his eyes tightened as he waited to hear what he had to say.
“To be clear, you and I have never seen eye-to-eye and probably never will. The Commission voted you in unanimously and I have no problem with that, you’ve served as Flamekeeper several times, and you know the job well,” Belgarath explained. “What I have a problem with, is the potential for—how should I describe it—yes, interfering with the integrity of the War.”
“I’m at a loss Belgarath; I don’t know what you’re speaking about.”
Belgarath smiled for several seconds before speaking.
“Magnus Rathbone has filed a formal complaint, accusing you of hiring Marques Montcroix to break into his estate and steal his Avatar contract, preventing him from participating in the Avatar War. There are no rules against any such action, but with your recent history and the rumors that have been spreading about you, I find the timing of his accusation and the return of Marques Montcroix very... peculiar. In his stead, his cousin Sophia Sanburne has taken his place in the War and stated that on the night of the alleged theft, he warned her about you trying something.”
The fat bastard will pay for this.
“Magnus Rathbone? I should have known,” Andrades responded with disgust.
“His words, not mine,” said Belgarath.
“He’s been trying to sully my name for months now, all accusations, but with no proof. And as far as rumors go, you didn’t strike me as the sort of man to believe them. Or am I wrong?”
“You’re right, I don’t believe in rumors, I believe in what I can see,” Belgarath explained with a smile. “And what I see are a lot of accusations being thrown your way. Even after the ceremony ended, there was a confrontation in the hallway with yourself, your butler and Marques where Commissioner Quinch had to interfere and Marques had to be pulled away. And there you were accused of the same thing, Andrades.”
How did he know already?
Andrades cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. “So what?”
Belgarath raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You say I’m accused of all these things by different people. Tell me, have you considered the other possibility? That Magnus and the boy are working together to have me removed from my position on the Commission? It wouldn’t be the first time for him. He openly plotted with agents of the M.A.N.A to frame me. Director Falco can vouch for that.”
Belgarath took a moment to think, looking at the ceiling for several seconds.
“I hadn’t heard, but it is possible. It’s highly unlikely, but it is possible,” Belgarath concluded. “I’ve decided, Andrades.”
“Which is?”
“You’re hereby banished from Star City until the War begins. This ensures there is no collusion between yourself and Marques Montcroix. After the War begins, you’ll be allowed back at your estate in the Safe Zone of Star City.”
Andrades bit his tongue and pushed his anger deep into the depths of his mind. Thoughts of killing Belgarath were drawn out when he thought about the bigger picture. Leaving Star City before the War would be of no consequence and could actually work in his favor.
“If that’s your decision, Flamekeeper, then I will not question it.”
“Thank you, Commissioner Archibald, for understanding,” said Belgarath before standing and extending his hand.
“You’re welcome,” said Andrades. He rose and shook Belgarath’s hand. “Before I forget, my wife, Narcissa, wanted me to invite you and the other Commissioners to our estate—once I return after the War has begun—for a banquet in celebration of the War. She insists on having them every year and would be delighted if you and the others would join us again.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Andrades smiled and bowed slightly before turning on his heel and walking toward t
he chamber door, cursing Belgarath with every step.
“Oh, before I forget, Andrades,” said Belgarath. Andrades turned to him, stopping in front of the door. “If you ever question my authority again, I’ll remove you from the Avatar Commission and see to it you never step foot inside Star City again. Am I understood?”
“… Yes.”
Both men stared into each other’s eyes. Their hate for each other was palpable, and it turned the air in the room thick and the temperature rose slightly. Andrades turned away, walking to the door.
“Give my best to Narcissa,” Belgarath shouted before Andrades walked out of the door.
Before I’m done Belgarath, I’ll be smiling over your lifeless corpse.
12
Nemesis
Rook held his orb in his hand, admiring the white energy inside. It was two weeks since the Flame Ceremony and less than thirty minutes before the War was to begin. After seeing his sister in the hallway of the Bell Tower, Rook had time to think about everything that occurred leading up to that point.
He found his sister, and he didn’t have to scour the world to do so. She was closer than she ever was and he knew in his heart he would see her again. He had come to grips with the fact that none of what happened to him was by chance. He didn’t know how, and he didn’t care. Knowing he would see his sister again was all that mattered now.
Bishop walked into the room and placed a map on the table in front of Rook.
“This just arrived.”
“What is it?” Rook asked.
“It’s a map of Star City. From what the Messenger told me when the War begins, it will reveal the locations of all five Sanctuaries, Links, Yields, and their badge count, all the information we will need.”
“This thing looks ancient,” Rook commented, analyzing the flimsy damaged parchment. It reminded him of the old maps he’d seen in countless pirate movies Bishop would force him to watch sometimes.
“Oh well, it’s what we got,” Bishop responded. He sat at the table and turned to Rook. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay—ready even.”
“Just remember what we taught you during your training and you’ll be fine,” Bishop responded. “You took well to it, given we only had thirteen days to work with.”
After Bishop calmed Rook down and kept him from breaking his contract by confronting Edgar Killshaw again, they returned home and prepared him for the War. The first day, they determined which of the nine traditional magecraft combat forms best-suited Rook and settled on the Duality form. It complimented his natural affinity with evocation magic while his nature affinity would act as his defensive form.
Every mage had an affinity to one of the nine schools of magic, a primary and a secondary where they excelled over all others. Rook’s primary was the school of evocation, having the ability to manipulate raw magical energy and use it for whatever he deemed necessary. His secondary was the school of nature, giving him the ability to manipulate the natural forces of the world. Although mages could use magic in all nine schools, they excelled in their primary and secondary schools to which they had an affinity for.
“I will, Bishop. Thanks to you, I’ll be able to handle whoever gets in my way.”
“You make it sound easy, but it won't be,” Bishop remarked. He sat across the table and stared at Rook. “You're strong and capable, but the others, they won't hold back and will not hesitate to kill you. Remember that. We need to be strategic and focus on the best course we can take to succeed.”
“Okay, I get it, Bishop… who would have thought it'd be you giving me the third degree.”
“You haven’t made the best choices recently,” Bishop remarked.
Rook didn’t respond. His gaze fell to the clock on the wall of their hideout as the clock stroke midnight. Bishop’s words rang true, but it was too late to change anything. They had to move forward, working together to survive. The distant sound of the Bell Tower’s bell ringing signaled the official start of the Avatar War.
Bishop rose from his seat, spreading the map open. The names of every Link appeared on the side of their map and their location marked by a flame symbol that tracked their movements. The nearest Link to their location was less than three miles away while the other was over eight miles away. This meant they had plenty of time to make their final preparations before venturing into Star City.
“It’s time.”
Rook grabbed his orb and followed Bishop to the basement of their warehouse hideout. It was a large room, with a steel door entrance. The entrance was obvious, but there were hidden exits throughout and living on the high ground gave them an advantage without risk of a sneak attack. He’d chosen the Warehouse section of the Urban District in the War Zone to be their starting point as it provided more of a familiarity for them.
Bishop prepared the bottom floor for their Avatar summoning ritual. Their contracts lay on the floor when they arrived. Bishop’s Avatar orb sat in the circular symbol inside the contract as Rook placed his orb onto his own.
“I’ll let you do the honors, Rook,” Bishop suggested. He stood to Rook’s left, his arms buried deep in his jacket pocket.
Rook fell to his knees before placing the hand that adorned the Link crest onto the symbol.
“Link”, he whispered.
The crest on his hands ignited in a white aura while the Avatar orb mirrored the radiant aura. Rook’s eyes widen as they followed white energy dispersing from the orb and snaking into the air right before him. The energy took a humanoid form behind the orb. Several seconds passed before the light disappeared and the energy took dispersed. Standing before him was a human male.
He wore a black cowboy hat, covering his unkempt blond hair. His eyes were crystal blue and a red bandanna hung from his neck. Standing in cowboy boots with silver spurs on the back, with brown leather pants, a long sleeved white shirt was covered by his brown leather jacket. Two revolvers sat on either side of his hips while two more sat inside dual shoulder holsters. Two pump-handle shotguns were holstered behind his back. Thick black leather gloves covered his hands.
He tilted his hat in Rook’s direction. “Well, what do we have here? I reckon you must be my Link?” He questioned with a strong southern drawl. “Howdy. Six Gun Colt Cassidy, at your service,” he greeted.
An excited smile overcame Rook’s face. “Marques—I mean Rook, you can call me, Rook.”
“Well, which is it, son? Rook or Marques?”
“I'm Rook and he is Bishop. It's a pleasure to meet you, Colt. I wasn't expecting—”
“What, a cowboy as handsome as I am? You could have had worst, I’ve seen worse, trust me,” he responded. “You’ll see what I’m talking about sooner than later, but you can rest assured, I won’t let’cha down, Rook.”
“I hope not, I got a lot riding on this. Like—my life among other things.”
“Rook and Bishop,” Colt repeated. “So, you two are teaming up or something?”
“Yes, we’re team Don’t Let Rook Die and I’m the captain,” Bishop remarked. “Now, it’s time for the other member of our team to join us.”
Rook and Colt turned to Bishop as he knelt down and reciting the incantation.
“Link.”
They watched as the white energy emitting from the orb materialized into another humanoid being. After the light dispersed a man with tan skin appeared before them. His hair was black, long and fell behind his shoulders. White war paint covered over his eyes from one side of his face to the other. A red bandanna lined his forehead with three feathers attach on either side of his head. He wore a black leather vest with black pants and boots. A long wooden bow and quiver hung from his shoulders while dual tomahawks hung from his hips.
“I wonder who—sonofa—” Colt’s shock caused him to draw one of his shotguns and take aim at the Bishop’s Avatar. “Chief Nightblood—I promised the day I died that if I ever saw your stupid face in hell, I’d kill you all over again!”
The Avatar matched Colt's threat and drew his bow, loading an arrow in the same motion. Its arrowhead glowed white as his eyes studied Colts.
“Six Gun… you won’t stay dead will you?”
Rook stepped back and Bishop followed him. “Bishop, what’s going on?”
“Looks like an Avatar rivalry—uh, perhaps we should calm down. The War has just—”
“This bastard cost me my life!” Colt roared. “I swore on my mama if I ever saw him again I would make him pay for it!”
“I warned you, fool.”
“That does it,” Colt roared, followed by firing a blast of white magical energy from his shotgun.
Nightblood evaded, rolling to his left. The blast of energy destroyed the wall behind him causing a huge destruction and shaking the foundation of the warehouse. During his evasion, Nightblood fired an arrow before reloading another. It missed its target as Colt ducked, evading as well. The arrow targeted a steel support beam which exploded into pieces on impact.
We will die before we even fight in the War.
Rook and Bishop watched in disbelief as their battle continued for several minutes, ending when Bishop and Rook stepped in between them. By the time they stopped, half the room was destroyed and turned into rubble, with neither landing a single attack on the other.
“Enough!” Bishop roared. “I order you to stop!”
“As you wish,” Nightblood responded, withdrawing his weapon and lowering his head.
“You too, Colt!” Rook added.
Colt scoffed, and holstered his shotgun, turning away from them in a huff.
“You’re lucky my Link stopped me, otherwise you’d be vulture dinner, Chief!”
“Even after two hundred years, you’re still delusional.”
Colt turned to respond, but looked at Rook’s face and relented. He crossed his arms and threw his nose in the air.
“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is going on with you two or what history you have together, but right now is not the time to relive it,” said Bishop with a firm voice. “The War has begun and we are a team. We need to work together and strategize on how we will proceed going forward. Do you two understand?”
Magecraft Page 9