Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1)

by Chris Mccready

  “Hey, are you two listening?”

  Looking up, Kort and Donovan saw Professor Cleary standing in front of their table.

  “Rourke is the greatest realm in the world,” ventured Kort.

  Despite some hoots and cheers from the class, Professor Cleary didn’t look happy. “Can either of you tell me about Haven’s history?”

  Donovan glanced at Kort expectantly, but Kort gave a slight shake of his head. “No, Professor,” said Donovan.

  “Then you should quit disrupting my class and start paying attention,” he said forcefully. “Now can anyone help educate these two delinquents?”

  “Yes, Professor,” said a smirking Caddaric. “I’m always glad to help out the ignorant and less fortunate. Haven wasn’t founded until generations later, but its origins can be traced back to our earliest history. While a few tribes worshipped the Gifted, most hunted them down and attempted to eradicate them. Many of these early wizards fled into these mountains to hide, and eventually found each other and began using their Gifts to build an underground compound to hide from their persecutors. Over time, many wizards risked their lives by leaving Haven to seek out others with the Gift and offer them refuge. As their numbers grew, so did Haven, and the knowledge and abilities of its residents.”

  Professor Cleary circled the room while Caddaric was speaking, making sure that everyone was paying attention. Now he returned to the front of the room, with a bounce in his step.

  “This brings us to my favorite myth about Haven,” said Cleary, writing ‘Zeren’ on the blackboard. “Legend says that Zeren himself founded Haven and lived here for nearly a thousand years. Zeren and his offspring were said to have a special Gift, their abilities were so unique that they barely resembled wizards as we know them, and formed a separate sect within Haven. Their gifts were said to be focused on enhancing themselves, not the world around them. There was apparently a falling out between Zeren and his followers during the first Shem invasion which led to his exile, and the construction of a holy place in his honor. The Zerenists’ Gifts have been exaggerated as they fell into myth and legend, but stories claim that they could drop naked into a nest of vipers and leave without a scratch. They could dance along a single strand of spider silk as if it were a road and they could even regrow a severed limb.” He let out a series of high pitched chuckles before continuing. “These are, of course, only stories. What we do know is that a small sect of Zerenists have lived at Haven going back to our earliest records until they suddenly disappeared a thousand years ago during the last Breaking. No records tell of why they disappeared during the war, but it’s assumed that most were killed during the fighting. The strange part is that despite the testing of all human teenagers, none have been discovered since.”

  Ravyn’s hand had been in the air for the last half of Cleary’s speech, but he had ignored her until now. “Is it true that the only Zerenists were human?” she asked.

  “We have many old records about testing and admitting wizards as Zerenists and all of them were human. As far as I know there aren’t even stories about other races displaying abilities similar to the Zerenists. Many people point to this as proof that their abilities have been distorted and they were nothing but a religious sect of wizards. I personally believe that that the Zerenists had unique abilities, similar to a Seer’s second sight, because it seems unlikely to me that the administration at Haven would have created an entirely separate training program solely because of religious beliefs.”

  “How would you identify a Zerenist when testing for the Gift?” asked Donovan.

  “I don’t actually know,” said Cleary.

  Students continued to ask questions about the early life at Haven and how it’s different now, until they ran out of time and had to head off to Professor Moncha’s classroom for Arcana.

  Glass spheres were already sitting on each of the tables in the room as they entered. Professor Moncha explained that these artifacts were similar to the ones used during the testing of their magical abilities, except they were designed to be more difficult to light.

  Donovan’s experience was exactly the same as during his testing. His orb immediately lit up, but its light was so dim that it could barely be seen with the bright sunshine shining through the windows where he and Kort were sitting.

  Caddaric and Ravyn had the brightest lights by far, but both were scolded for making a scene when they got into an argument over who had the brightest.

  As the class progressed, Professor Moncha taught them how to focus their Gifts to light their sphere without touching it. This proved to be difficult for most of the class, but following Professor Moncha’s careful instruction, most of them managed to get them lit before the end of class.

  At the end of the class, everybody but Donovan was exhausted from using their Gifts for an extended period of time. Professor Moncha told them that it was normal and they would build up their stamina over the term. She was more surprised by Donovan’s energetic skip as he headed off for lunch.

  The rest of the day was similar to the previous one. Donovan headed down to the library, while the others went to Arithmetic, and started reading The Early Days of Rourke, hoping to negate the disadvantage of his lost memories.

  The next morning he joined Osmont out in the quad, and finally asked him a question which had been on his mind since the previous day.

  “Why is my Gift so weak?” he asked, stretching his cupped left hand in front of him. “Could the Blood magic be leeching my Gift?”

  “I wondered about that since Cleary told me about your test,” said Osmont, swaying both of his arms to the right. “I’m going to be straight with you. Most of what I know about Blood magic is from what I’ve read the last few days.

  “Which is still more than I know.” He pivoted left, shoulder down, then extended both of his palms forward.

  “I’m convinced that it is Blood magic carved into your chest, but I cannot even begin to fathom who could have done it. We have the two greatest magical libraries in Rourke, one at Haven and one in the keep at Kendra, and between them we have found little information on the subject. Its use was banned thousands of years ago and it appears that people were successful in destroying most of the records about its use.”

  Osmont was quiet while he performed a series of connected movements. Slowly turning one hundred and eighty degrees, he shoved his arms forward. Performing a glacial mule kick behind him, he twisted around to face the opposite direction before his foot hit the ground. Arms swaying to deflect a series of slow, invisible attacks before he kneed one attacker and elbowed the other. Coming to rest, he drew a series of slow deep breaths.

  “On a normal person, the Blood magic would last a few days at most before it lost it power,” said Osmont. “On you, it could last a lifetime.”

  “So, it could be draining my power?” asked Donovan, bent over with his hands on his hips, still gulping in air.

  “I don’t know, so I won’t discount the possibility. It appears to work in a similar way to how an Artificer imbues an artifact. The symbols must be etched precisely, the vessel has to be suitable for its function and the imbuer needs to have exceptional control and concentration while transferring energy into the vessel.”

  “Is that what I’ve become to you? I’m no different than a clay bowl.”

  “I was using clinical terms and didn’t intend to offend you.” Seeing that Donovan wasn’t ready to start another routine, he continued talking. “The few tidbits that I’ve found make it sound like it can be used to deaden or enhance certain attributes. You could make your arm never feel pain or any other sensation, or you could enhance its sensitivity until the slightest breeze would become unbearable.”

  “So I still have my memories, I just can’t access them?”

  “I believe that you still have your memories, but the access to them has been blocked. You can still speak and read, and do all kinds of other things which you couldn’t if the knowledge was removed completely. You seem to be ab
le to access some information through your subconscious, but cannot access anything directly.”

  “So how do I get rid of it?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Can you drain my Gift until the Blood magic burns itself out?”

  “Ah, the ignorance of youth,” said Osmont, letting out a joyous laugh. “Sometimes I wish I could experience it again. To answer your question. No, we have no way to nullify anyone’s Gift completely.”

  “So, I’m stuck like this forever?”

  Osmont looked him straight in the eye for several seconds before answering. “I’m doubtful that we’ll be able to counteract it, unless we find the person who did it to you in the first place. If we can gather enough pieces about your background, then maybe we can narrow down the list of possible places where you grew up and start investigating each one.”

  “If I could remember my past, then this wouldn’t be necessary in the first place.”

  “That’s why we need to be sneaky. If you can tie a bunch of different knots then maybe your parents were fishermen. It’s mostly going to be a guessing game, but it’s imperative that we find out who is performing Blood magic.”

  Donovan almost told Osmont about the note that Eamon had left for him but, given everything that he’d learnt about the Shem, he still kept it secret.

  ***

  Donovan rose early on Saturday, while everybody was still tucked in their beds, and quietly made his way down to the basement for a quick bite to eat before heading out to the courtyard by the gate. Crossing the courtyard, he saw two strikingly beautiful women standing by the gate. Twins by the look of it. Blond wavy hair hung in two braids to reveal thin, friendly faces. Full lips pulled back in a faint trace of a sensual smile as he approached. Heavy, hazel eyes cheerfully gazed over the buildings.

  “Hi, I’m Chelsea Bishop,” said the girl on the right, “and this is my sister Aubrey.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Donovan with a goofy smile.

  “Is this your first year here?” asked Aubrey. Donovan nodded and she continued. “We were just talking about the mischief that we got into when we lived here.”

  “I highly doubt that either of you ever got into trouble,” said Donovan.

  “We never got into any trouble,” said Chelsea, her mischievous smile telling him that it wasn’t from lack of trying.

  “Is this everybody?” asked Osmont from behind Donovan. “It’ll be a small group this year.”

  “Hugh and some of his crew were talking about coming,” said Aubrey. “There they are now.”

  Turning around, Donovan saw a group of ten men come sauntering between the buildings towards them. In the lead was Hugh Gardner, a muscular lion leading his pride, bright toothy smile clearly visible. Hugh gave Aubrey and Chelsea a wink before turning to Osmont.

  “It’s good to see you, Osmont,” said Hugh, in a deep, rich voice.

  Osmont shook his hand before addressing the group. “Now that everybody is here, let’s get started. Most of you were here last year when I first started this, so you know what to expect.” He nodded to many of the people standing there. “Hugh, Casey, Andy, Archie, Leo and the rest. For the rest of you, I look forward to getting to know you over the coming weekends. I recognize that giving up part of your Saturdays is a big sacrifice for some of you, but I think you’ll find it worthwhile in the end.”

  “The girls won’t be able to keep their eyes off your body,” said Hugh, casually flexing his arms. “Even Archie might be able to get a date.”

  That drew a wave of laughter from everybody but Archie. Archie had a soft build, bright red hair, and a pale complexion that was turning crimson to match the scar on his left cheek.

  “I’m not a miracle worker,” said Osmont, to another round of laughter. “You need many attributes to successfully defend yourself without weapons or magic. You need the stamina to know that you can outlast your opponents, the quickness to beat them to the punch, the agility and flexibility to remain stable despite adverse circumstances. We’ll be focusing on these attributes before moving to more traditional fighting techniques.”

  Osmont ran them through one of his stretching routines to get warmed up, and Donovan was glad to see others struggling to maintain their balance. Once they were warmed up, they began jogging up and down the narrow winding path leading up to the gate. Osmont spread his time out between all of the students, jogging beside each for a few minutes while they had a quiet conversation before he moved onto the next.

  Donovan spent his time with the Bishop twins near the back on the pack, as they filled him in on what to expect if he returned to Haven for a second year and could explore Haven in its entirety.

  Haven was much larger than he’d realized. Tunnels extended deep into the heart of the mountains where a plethora of rooms have been carved into the rock. Hidden vales were scattered throughout the spur of mountains, the only way to reach them was through the main gate atop of the path they were currently jogging up.

  They told Donovan that if he followed the paths behind the buildings he’d come to a tunnel, guarded by protective magic, which led to Haven proper, as they called it. They offered to open the way for him, but he would owe each of them a favor that they could call upon whenever they liked. The way that they said it scared him off, and he politely declined their offer.

  By the end of the session, everybody’s legs were burning and they struggled to walk along the path, but nobody gave up and stopped.

  Bidding everyone farewell, Donovan went to see what was going on in his room.

  Ravyn sat at the table, focused on a book in front of her. Kort lounged with his feet resting on the other side of the table, picking grapes off of a bunch and tossing them in the air to catch in his mouth. Delaney was hidden behind the curtain on the far side of the room, and Caddaric was nowhere to be seen.

  “How can you possibly be studying?” asked Kort, tossing another grape into the air and narrowly missed catching it in his mouth.

  Ravyn ignored him and kept reading, mouthing each word as she read. Donovan gave Kort a lazy wave as he walked passed and plopped himself onto his bed.

  “We don’t even have any homework,” said Kort. “What are you reading?” Sitting up, he reached across the table and snagged the book from in front of Ravyn.

  “I was reading that.”

  Kort flipped the book over and tried to read its title, but the only word that he could make out was math.

  “Give it back.”

  “No. If it’s so important, then maybe I should be reading it.”

  “Now,” she said, a firm finality in her tone. She reached out her hand and waited until Kort handed it back. She found her place in the book and went back to reading as if nothing had happened.

  Kort went back to tossing grapes into his mouth until he grew bored again. Picking another grape, he began to aim it at Ravyn’s mouth as she continued to mouth the words as she read. Donovan put a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. With great care and timing, Kort tossed the grape across the table into her gaping maw.

  Her eyes grew wide in alarm and she began grasping at her throat.

  “What do we do?” said an animated Donovan, flinging himself off the bed.

  Kort calmly made his way around the table. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her out of the chair and bent her part way over the table. Pressing himself tightly against her back, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and began a rhythmic thrusting motion with his hands.

  The grape dislodged and fell onto the table. Kort kept his arms wrapped around her until she fought her way free.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she said, shoving him away.

  “Saving your life,” said Kort.

  “You wouldn’t have needed to if you didn’t try to kill me,” she said, jabbing him in the chest with a sharp finger. “And you...” she said turning towards Donovan. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she grabbed her book and disappeared behind the curtain.r />
  “Where did you learn that?” asked Donovan quietly, hoping that Ravyn wouldn’t overhear.

  “I fight with my brothers over food at every meal. We’ve choked more than once while shoveling it down, so my mom made sure to teach it to all of us.”

  The five of them got to know each other in dribs and drabs over the first few weeks, growing familiar with each other’s habits. Despite the grape incident, Ravyn continued to move her mouth while she read. Kort insisted on shaving every day despite a distinct lack of noticeable facial hair. Caddaric spent more and more time with his group of sycophants, coming back to the room late at night and saying boisterous goodbyes in the hallway, waking the rest of them. Delaney still hadn’t said a single word, but she kept the room meticulously clean, picking up every stray sock and cleaning the room every day. Donovan displayed a tendency to disappear from the group, he’d sit there studying what everybody was doing but withdraw from the conversation, yet he had a remarkably accurate recollection of exactly what everybody had said.

  Everything seemed to be going good. All of them had fallen into their own comfortable routine, which was why Donovan was surprised when Ravyn came to him in tears, begging him for help near the end of the first month of class.

  Chapter 8

  Donovan woke early on a Sunday morning near the end of September. Quietly closing the door behind him, he headed outside to do one of the stretching routines that he’d learnt from Osmont. Osmont had been away from Haven for a few days, but Donovan diligently kept up the routine. He’d finally reached the point where he could complete the whole routine without stumbling.

  He walking across the frosted grass, leaving green footprints in his wake. He was surprised to hear running footsteps behind him.

  Ravyn came running up beside him, and taking his arm, led him to a secluded bench surrounded by barren bushes, their colorful leaves carpeting the ground. “I need to talk to you,” she said in a choking voice.