Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1)

by Chris Mccready

  “I wish I had that option. On second thought, some things are even worse than studying.”

  Ravyn and Caddaric exchanged a smile with each other before Ravyn answered. “We talked it over and decided not to let anything get in between us again, so we’re not going to share our results with anyone.”

  ***

  Caddaric left the dorm and headed through the quad to the spot where he and his friends had beaten Donovan so many months earlier. Leaving the path, he pushed his way through a thick bush to see them all standing there. He’d asked his former friends to meet him in this spot, and they had come. Brutus, Thurl, Bodhi, Tam, and Clyde all stopped their conversation when they heard him rustling through the bush.

  One of the professors had healed Tam’s leg, and the five of them stood there, relaxed as if the events from the weekend had never happened.

  “There’s the man of honor,” said Clyde. “Without your leadership, many of us wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “Speaking of standing, how’s the leg?” asked Caddaric.

  “As good as new,” said Tam, doing a little jig.

  “Thank you all for coming,” said Caddaric, stepping in front of the group. “I’m sure that you all recognize this spot. I made a mistake while standing right here many months ago. I’ve admitted my mistake, and tried to atone for it. Before we head our separate ways, I want to give everyone an opportunity to clear the air.”

  “This has been an amazing year,” said Clyde. “I count you all as the best friends that I’ve ever met, and I hope that this is the start of something great. I assume that we’re all welcome to visit you with our families over the summer.”

  “It warms my heart to hear that you want to spend more time with your prissy prince, but I can assure you that my family has high standards for who they spend their time with.”

  “Is this about us running away?” asked Clyde. “We’re not as noble and brave as you are. You should take it as a compliment.”

  “I’d rather live surrounded by true friends, than be surrounded by a bunch of sycophants who’ll leave me as soon as things get difficult.”

  “You can’t blame us for being cowards.”

  “No, I cannot, but I can blame you for being false. Do you know what’s worse than being surrounded by cowards? Being surrounded by people pretending to be your friends.”

  “False?” said Clyde in mock innocence. He made a big demonstration of walking up to each of them in turn and demanding that they admit to their duplicity. When everyone denied it, he turned back to Caddaric. “See, none of us are false.”

  Caddaric slowly walked forward until he was standing uncomfortably close to Clyde. “Do you deny pretending to be my friend in order to gain my family’s influence?” He walked over to Tam, who towered over him. “Do you deny calling me a scared little boy who would have had his teeth knocked out if it wasn’t for you? Well, I’m standing here right now, and I still have all my teeth. Is there something that you’re going to do about it?”

  Tam averted his gaze, before turning and fleeing towards the dorms.

  “Now, does anyone have anything to say or do before we leave?” He walked over and got in their faces one at a time, and each of them backed down and left without saying a word.

  ***

  Donovan climbed through their window and onto the roof. Tying a spare sheet to the gargoyle, just like he had done during the night of the ball, he carefully leaned over the edge of the roof to help everyone up.

  The four of them climbed their way to the top of the roof and sat down. The night was clear. Countless stars shone down, reminding them of their place in the universe. It was a crisp night, and they were all bundled up against the cold breeze.

  “Thank you all for coming,” said Donovan, setting his lute case down beside him.

  “I’m glad we’re doing this, but did we have to do it up here?” asked Ravyn, who clung tightly to Kort, who didn’t seem to mind.

  “None of us know her beliefs, but she was so sad and afraid, that I think she’d want us to remember the good times. The best time that I had with her was sitting right here.”

  “I took these from Professor Moncha’s room,” said Kort, showing them five plain, white candles.

  “How could you ruin a—” started Ravyn.

  “Only good memories,” interrupted Donovan. “What did you have in mind?”

  “They are so much like our own lives,” said Kort. “Small, fragile, and will only burn for a short time. Delaney has went to a dark place where we cannot help her, but the least we can do is provide her with some light in the next world.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and Ravyn was openly crying.

  “That’s beautiful,” said Caddaric. “I didn’t always help her when I had the chance, but I want to do what I can now.”

  Kort stood the candles on the roof in a square. He melted the bottom of the candles with his Gift, until they stuck to the roof. He took the fifth, and largest candle and stuck it in the center.

  Kort lit a candle with his magic.

  Donovan reached out to grab the wick on the closest candle and lit it as well.

  Ravyn and Caddaric took turns lighting their candles.

  The four of them, as one, lit the final candle.

  They all sat there, watching the flickering lights.

  “I wouldn’t be here without her,” said Kort quietly. “I wish she hadn’t saved me.”

  “She made her choice,” said Caddaric, “don’t lessen it by second guessing if it was right.”

  “She never said a word, but she filled all of our hearts,” said Ravyn. “That’s something we could all learn from.”

  “I never heard her talk,” said Donovan, “but I did hear her sing.”

  Donovan took out his lute and began playing the same song that Delaney had sung on that distant night. His voice was choked with emotion, so he didn’t try to sing, but he kept playing until long after all of the candles had burned themselves out.

  ***

  “Bend your elbow a bit more,” said Osmont.

  Donovan and Osmont stood out in the courtyard, running through the final Vanora that they’d be doing together for a long time. Donovan made the adjustment and tried the motion again.

  “Better,” said Osmont.

  “What does a professor like you do over the summer?” asked Donovan.

  “Research and exploration, mostly. I’m heading out tomorrow. Depending upon what I find, I may not be coming back here.”

  “Where you going?”

  “I meeting up with Jerel, and we’re going to be digging through the Royal Library. What we find will determine where I’m heading next.”

  “Speaking of Jerel, did he find anything about Blood magic in the library?”

  “Enough to convince us that we cannot unravel the symbol on your chest. At this point, Eamon is our only link to finding a way to undo it. I’m assuming that you’re still planning on trying to meet him.”

  “I have to. I need to know.”

  “I am going with you.” Osmont held Donovan firmly by both shoulders and stared into his eyes. “There are dangers that you’re not aware of. You need someone who knows the world to come with you. I promise not to do anything to keep you from meeting Eamon, but I’ll make sure you get there safely.”

  “Okay,” said Donovan. “I’m going no matter what happens. If you’re still here, then you’re welcome to come with me.”

  He released Donovan’s shoulders to shake his hand.

  “Thank you,” said Osmont. “You don’t know what that means to me.”

  They stopped their stretching to watch a group of older students leave through the gate. Donovan had said his emotional goodbyes to his friends, and they had left Haven earlier that morning. With nothing waiting for him outside of its wall, Donovan had decided to spend a few more hours at Haven before starting his solitary journey.

  “Something has been bugging me,” said Donovan. “The morning you found me underground
in that chamber. How did you find me?”

  Osmont took a long time to answer.

  “I saw a bright star in the sky. It led me right to you, and I don’t intend to ever lose you again.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chris McCready was born and raised in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. With a Bachelor's degree in in Mechanical Engineering and a MBA, he spent over a decade working in the manufacturing industry before escaping to pursue his dream of becoming a professional liar.

  MERCURY MIND, his debut novel, is the first step in him achieving his dream.

  Introduction to The Downfall Saga

  Thank you for reading Mercury Mind. It is the first book, in a five book series, about a group of young adult wizards learning to control their magic while finding their places in the world.

  If you enjoyed Mercury Mind, then you can check out Tin Thoughts, the second book in the series, which will be available on October 16th, 2015.

  The first chapter of Tin Thoughts is included in the end of this book for your enjoyment.

  The final three books in the series will be published in 2016.

  Except from Tin Thoughts

  The first note rang out into the air, loud and brash. Donovan intentionally plucked the out of tune string, and his lute let out a wail which made the hairs on the back of the neck stand up. The note pierced the conversations around the room, struck the far wall, and rebounded. When it came back to him, Donovan added a deep beat, like a horse galloping in the distance, it was a sound that was felt, more than heard, in the noisy room. He let the horse continue to gallop, letting out an inhuman scream every few strides, until most of the heads in the room had turned towards him. He silenced the strings, and the audience quieted in turn. Donovan allowed the scowl to leave his face, and smile slowly replaced it.

  He let the silence stretch out for a moment longer than was necessary. He waited until he saw the first hand reaching for a drink before launching into “Breaker.” The song was about a dangerous section of water near the southern edge of the continent, where the currents were strong, and the ocean hid many dangers. The music embodied the crashing waves with the subtle undertones of the lamenting sailors. Donovan chose this as his first song because it started fast and heavy, and only grew faster. His fingers flew over the strings, sweat began dripping down his brow, yet he managed to keep the smile on his face as he surveyed the crowd.

  Donovan had spent the first part of his summer wandering around Kendra. Classes didn’t resume at Haven until the fall, not that he was sure he would be resuming his studies. He was a poor wizard, the weakest in class, despite his best efforts. His Gift seemed to express itself in different ways than the other students, but no one could explain to him why it was different. Maybe it was the Blood Magic, they would say, yet none could explain how it would affect his Gift as such.

  Eleven months ago, he had turned up at Haven, alone and frightened. An intricate symbol had been carved into his chest, over his heart, which he’d been told was Blood Magic, not that any of the wizards at Haven claimed to know much about it, since its use had been forbidden centuries ago. Eleven months later and the cuts looked as if they had been made mere hours ago. It siphoned energy from him, sustaining its magic in perpetuity, unless he could track down whoever had created it, and get them to undo their work. Donovan had no recollection of events previous to the first night he appeared at Haven, and no one knew if the Blood Magic had a more nefarious purpose than blocking his memories.

  He spent most of his nights playing his lute. He needed time to forget, so he could finally remember.

  The song finished in a flurry. The notes so fast that he’d mess them up if he tried to think about them while he played. He drew a couple of deep breaths while the audience applauded. He’d chosen that song to get their attention. Now he had to keep it.

  The first dozen chords rang out, true and steady. A few people began singing an old drinking song while he played, and more joined in with every chord. There were many variations to the words, but most of the people of Kendra favored one version, and they sung it loud to drown out any opposition. Donovan had learned the tune the first night he’d played at The Engorged Liver, but he still didn’t know its true name.

  With no recollection of his family, he’d turned to his one true love. He’d played for free the first night to a small smattering of people, but now made a fair wage playing to a packed house every night. He didn’t play for the money. He played to pass the time until he would begin his quest anew. He would track down his family to find out who he is and why they had abandoned him.

  His only lead was a man named Eamon. Eamon had left him a couple of notes the previous year, along with the lute he was currently playing. His final note told Donovan how to contact him when he was in Lornell in August. Lornell lay far to the east, in what used to be Deogal lands. The lawless, border town had grown over the years, and Donovan was curious about the business Eamon was conducting there.

  Scanning the crowded room, Donovan saw the usual mix of people crammed into every available chair, except for a lone figure sitting at a table in the corner of the room. The figure had his back to Donovan. He had a shaved head and a stocky build. When he turned his head to the side, Donovan saw a narrow braided beard hanging from his chin.

  Donovan finished his song and took a break. Walking over to the bar, he ordered a cider. He took a sip to ease his sore throat. The cider’s aroma was a welcome relief from the stench of humanity filling the room.

  “We’ve got a lively bunch tonight,” said Aine, one of the servers at The Engorged Liver.

  “I’m not going to complain if they want to sing the songs for me,” said Donovan.

  “My ears wish they wouldn’t.”

  “It’s your ears or my throat.”

  Donovan downed the rest of the cider. He surveyed the room, paying attention to everyone’s demeanor, their conversations and, most importantly, the state of their drinks. He tried to adapt his song choice to the state of the room, but it was difficult when everyone was in a different state of inebriation. He set his mug down on the bar and returned to his stool on the small stage.

  His gaze drifted to the figure in the corner who had turned around, and was watching the stage. Something looked off about his face. Donovan thought that his eyes might be too far apart, but couldn’t tell for sure at this distance.

  They locked eyes.

  Donovan was the first to blink, and he looked down at his lute. He pretended to make a couple of small adjustments before he started to play a ballad. He got a third of the way through the song before being interrupted.

  “Play something good, not that sissy stuff,” came an obviously drunk voice from the middle of the room.

  Donovan ignored him and continued to play and sing.

  “Oi!” came the voice again.

  Donovan searched the crowd until he found the speaker. A large, burly fellow sat at a table, red faced with a trail of liquid running down the front of his shirt.

  “Play something else,” he said, banging his empty mug on the table.

  Donovan continued to ignore him, when a mug came flying at the stage. Donovan kept playing as it sailed towards his head, and didn’t react as it brushed the edge of his ear, before smashing on the wall behind him.

  Donovan finished the song as the man got up and walked towards the stage.

  “You deaf boy? I told you to play something else.”

  “I was just about to, before you interrupted me.”

  “You sassing me? I won’t let a boy sass me.” He lifted his leg to step up onto the stage.

  “You can say whatever you want from down there, but the stage is mine,” said Donovan calmly. “If you step up here, we will have problems.”

  Donovan set his lute into its case beside him on the stage, and waited to see what the man was going to do next. Judging by the smiles and laughter from the crowd, Donovan knew how ridiculous of a sight this must be. Donovan thought that he was seventeen
, but didn’t know for sure without his memories. He was small for his age, and here he was, facing down a man nearly a foot taller than himself and at least a hundred pounds heavier.

  “I’m being paid to entertain the crowd,” said Donovan. “So you can either go sit down and let me play, or take a step forward and I’ll give everybody a show that they weren’t expecting.”

  The man hesitated, clearly surprised by Donovan’s attitude. Donovan watched the man’s eyes twitch back and forth as he tried to think of a way to save face.

  “Is there a song that you want to hear?”

  Donovan saw his body relax, and he took a step backwards.

  “Thomas’ Tramp.”

  “As you wish.”

  Donovan gave him a smile and carefully retrieved his lute from its case. When he looked up again, he saw that the man had already retreated back to his seat.

  Donovan played for the next hour before thanking the crowd, and beginning to pack up his lute. Several patrons stopped by for a quick word and dropped an iron penny or two into an old hat that he’d placed on the stage. Donovan was just closing the clasps on his lute case when he sensed someone standing nearby. Looking up, he saw the man who’d been sitting in the corner table standing a few feet away.

  Donovan got a better look at him up close. He was four and a half feet tall and muscular, with a shaved head and a long, narrow black beard done up in a single braid. His face was broader and flatter than a normal man. Donovan thought that he might be a dwarf but wasn’t too sure.

  “Sorry, but I have to go,” said Donovan, collecting the money from the hat and transferring it to his pocket. He was pleased to see a couple of crescents among the pennies.

  “You’ll have time to listen to me,” he said.

  “I’ve heard it before, and it’s rarely true,” said Donovan, picking up his lute case and turning to head up to his room.

  “Can’t you spare a couple minutes?”

  Donovan headed for the hallway leading to the stairs.