The Melaki Chronicle

by William Thrash

  Domo stared at his drink with horror – not sure whether to finish it or fling it to the ground.

  But Melaki did not care. He was wearing the robe. To wear a robe of a wizard of the Rukha was asking for imprisonment if one wore it without having earned it.

  He downed his mead. Slamming the cup down, he grabbed the next.

  “Perhaps,” said another voice, “my friend here will allow me his seat?” Talin stood over Domo, his hand on the man's shoulder.

  Domo peered up sideways at the wizard and then pursed his lips. Whatever he had been about to say he strangled. He nodded once, taking his cup glowing from the inside, and moved to another table.

  “I hope you do not mind if I join you?” But Talin had already sat.

  Melaki waved his cup as if all the seats were free and he did not care.

  “I understand you passed all five wards today?” Talin looked down his nose in disbelief.

  He raised his arm, indicating his robe and trimming. “You really think they would give this to a wizard of the first ward?”

  Talin frowned. “No, of course not. But your past--”

  Melaki leaned forward. “Was laid to rest, today.”

  The other wizard leaned back, fingers on chin. “So it is, then.”

  “Why are you here, Talin?” Before, Melaki would have been subject to punishment for taking such a tone. But he was wearing robes of equality, if not of the same rank. Talin was a wizard of the tenth ward.

  What did Talin know and what was he taught that we are not even allowed to know?

  The sixth through tenth wards were not a continuation of the initiate's experience. Most never learned anything beyond any of the first five wards. Elet Abisin had mentioned advancing to the sixth ward, but he had been otherwise enigmatic on what the sixth ward contained.

  “A time of change is coming--” Talin said.

  Melaki mused, but for different reasons. Change was indeed coming. Something so new and unexpected, none would suspect.

  He grunted.

  “The Imperial Armies have pacified the Northlands.”

  Melaki nodded. The Northlands was a vast island of forest and ruin. Previously held by Altanles, it had rebelled and been consumed by evil. For almost two hundred years it had lain in the hands of those who practiced necromancy. Much had been left behind in the loss of that island. Much probably remained to be regained. “Yes,” he said.

  “I am on the First Charter,” Talin said. He leaned forward to punctuate his words.

  Reclamation of the island was set in a series of charters. Only so many were allowed to venture to the island. Too many would overwhelm the small base established there. An adequate supply route needed to be formed first by the available shipping. To be in the First Charter was a feat that spoke of either great influence or great wealth.

  Melaki was not sure which in Talin's case. “The Northlands are said to be haunted--”

  “Do not believe everything you hear,” Talin said. But he was frowning. “Indeed, the dead still walk and the undead are still in force. Imperial forces only eliminated the necromancers.”

  “Should not their filth have died with them?” Necromancers raised zombies and animated skeletons, their power derived from the one who raised them. Kill a necromancer and their animations died.

  “Only in the most direct sense. The necromancers also summoned other beings, beings capable of existing without direct support.”

  “Beings?” Melaki sipped his mead. What does this have to do with me?

  “The undead. Ghouls, demons, even. Those who also animate the dead.”

  “Sounds like a problem.”

  “The Imperial forces wiped them from the surface, but many still exist in the tombs and crypts.”

  He shrugged.

  “There is considerable wealth there to be recovered. Necromantic gems can be cleansed and are of great value. Gold is there and silver, too. Just waiting to be picked up.”

  “And you're on the First Charter.”

  “Indeed. I need an assistant. Someone I can trust.” His oily look said someone he could use.

  “You want me to be your assistant?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me to dive into some dusty hole with you and provide light while you scoop up precious gems?”

  “I rather think being on the First Charter would appeal to you.”

  To my greed, if I had any. “What do I get out of it?”

  “Half of what we find is claimed by the Altanles Imperium. I will give you a quarter of my half for your aid.”

  The offer was generous. Talin could have snapped up an initiate and simply forced him to aid him without pay. “Why not take an initiate? They would require no pay.”

  Talin flicked his fingers over the cuff of his robe. “I wanted someone with ability, not someone requiring constant hand-holding.”

  Melaki grunted and reached for another mug.

  “You'd be a fool,” Domo said from his table, “to pass that offer by.”

  The man had good ears.

  The Northlands would take him away from here. The pay, if they found much, would allow him to venture out on his own, later. He did not hate those of the Altanlean Empire, but he hated the imperial act that had savaged his homeland.

  Would he wander within the Empire? Would he venture outside? Perhaps back to the Meseditt Empire? Would he be welcome home even if he wore the robes of a Altanlean wizard?

  He had earned the robes. He would not remove them.

  Perhaps more than ever, he felt more orphaned than at any time since his village burned. Changed, and not fully of one place and not of the other, where would he go? Did fate seek to destroy everything he was? His identity? He had been taught evil magic here. He had been taught what was called evil magic in his home land. Was there really any place for him? But as he would not give up his robes, having earned them, he would neither give up his magic. He would put ink to parchment and record what he had learned. The Northlands at this point offered him the ability to do so later and give him the ability to travel beyond the Altanlean Empire. They would surely hunt him down if he remained and they discovered the ways of his magic.

  He nodded slowly to Talin.

  “I take that as a yes?”

  I hate you already. “Yes.”

  The oily look smoothed into a sneer. “Very good, then. We leave in eight days.” He rose and straightened his robe as if sitting in the tavern had disturbed it. He cast a look around and left without another word.

  “He's a cheery one,” Domo said. He reclaimed his seat.

  “Bah.”

  “But I would not have turned down that offer, either. Gold and riches. Who could say no?”

  “Well, I'm sure it will be quite dull.”

  “But gold and gems--”

  “And streets paved with gold. Gems raining from the waters above. Silver trinkets growing on trees.”

  “But--”

  “The Altanles Empire expended many men defeating the necromancers. They're giving us the task of cleaning up all the remains. Call the chore a charter as if it was some coveted thing. The opportunity to work is all it is. I doubt there's much wealth there to be had.”

  “But--”

  Melaki slapped Domo's shoulder. “Domo, do not you think the imperial forces took all the wealth they found when they killed the necromancers? How much is going to be in some dusty tomb?”

  “Oh, I see.” His brow was furrowed.

  “Taking this allows me to get out of here. The Rukha crawls on my skin like fleas. I must be away.”

  Domo grunted. Not convinced.

  “At least I will be able to write my findings while holding a light for Talin.”

  “Findings?”

  “Nothing to concern you, friend.” He raised his mug.

  Domo's still glowed.

  * * *

  Melaki heard the knock. “Yes?”

  Elet Abisin entered. “Your new rooms are prepared. Present yourself
to Wizard Rashilla for instruction in the sixth ward.”

  “I thought the rest of the wards were voluntary?”

  “They are. However, your ability at passing the first five wards begs that we instruct you further.”

  He sat up from the warmth of his blankets and rubbed his eyes. His white bedclothes were a stark contrast to the black robes laid across the foot of the bed. “You do know that Wizard Talin has assigned me as aide?”

  Abisin frowned. “I did not.”

  “His assignment takes precedence?”

  The Elet frowned deeper. “It does, but I do not like it.”

  “We leave in seven days.”

  A grunt. “Nevertheless, present yourself. I do not expect that you will finish the ward--”

  “No one expected me to finish the first.”

  Abisin raised an eyebrow at the interruption. But Melaki was no longer an initiate.

  He raised a hand to the Elet, forestalling a response. “I will go.”

  A quick nod was followed by an equally quick departure.

  He washed and dressed, then walked with a purpose across the Rukha to the attached wizards' living area. He passed initiates who still looked at him as he were an amazing bug. Then he entered the quieter halls of the wizards. The contrast was as stark as his bedclothes and robes. The Rukha was all white – walls, tiles, initiates' clothing. Here in the attached wizards' halls, the walls were a deep brown – almost black. The floor tiles were black. And the robes he passed were black.

  He received a few surprised looks from some of the wizards – those who had heard of his five-ward elevation in one day but not believing until they saw the trim on his robes.

  “Rashilla?” he said to a wizard.

  The man pointed. “That hallway. Far end on the left.”

  “My thanks,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

  He received an eyebrow in return.

  The wizard was of the fifth ward only, as Melaki, and he had just given instructions on how to find the sixth ward instructor. He must have been peeved.

  Her study was just a study. It was tidy, but two shelves sat stacked with books and scrolls. She was a charming-looking woman with long silver hair showing fading remnants of black. Her skin was smooth and her eyes sharp. The only thing that held back a flirtatious smile from his face was the severe line of her mouth. Smiles rarely visited that face.

  “Melaki, is it?” Rashilla said.

  “Yes, wizard.”

  “Rashilla is fine. We are a little looser in formality here in the upper wards. But as you will.”

  He nodded.

  “Sit there.” Her finger stabbed to a chair.

  He did.

  She pulled parchments together and arranged them neatly in a stack, clearing her desk. She closed them in a leather wrap and tied the strap loosely. She got up and shifted the bundle neatly into a space its size on the shelf behind her. “I understand you passed all five wards at once?”

  “I did.”

  “How did you do this?” She sat back down.

  “I had plenty of instruction--”

  “Yes, you did. No one has ever worn senior initiate's robes for so long as you.” The stab of her eyes said she doubted and disapproved.

  “I think I must have had a block of some sort in my mind. Perhaps a fear of failure.”

  “And you do not now, obviously. Well, then. The sixth ward is a deeper focus of the first ward.”

  “I have to learn them all over again?” He shifted in his chair. It was his right to ask what he would and even refuse further instruction if he desired.

  “No.” Her word was sharp. “Light to darkness, lifting to pushing, and warding of the physical to warding of the mystical.”

  Melaki was interested, despite himself. His eyebrows must have shown it. He leaned forward.

  She nodded, slowly. “You can make a light, but have you thought about making darkness?”

  “No... I--”

  “This is the beginning of your instruction. What is darkness?”

  He figured she meant the schooling term. “The absence of light?”

  “No. Not this kind. Not that your answer is wrong otherwise. This darkness you will learn is a force. It is as liquid in the air, ink if you will, sucking all light from within it and even drawing and dimming light from around it. Watch.” She lit a candle and placed it on a chair between her desk and the window. The candle lit little as the daylight from the window illuminated the room. Then she began muttering to the spirits.

  He felt his skin crawl as if alive with fleas. But there were no fleas in the Altanlean Empire. Not a one. Wizards made sure of it for some reason.

  A dimming of the candle at first made him think it was going out.

  “Watch the spirit manipulation and learn this first of the sixth ward,” she said.

  He blinked. Instruction in the first ward had required months of instruction before the first demonstrations of magic occurred. But had she not said the sixth ward was a deeper focus?

  I do not have to sit in a class for months learning this? He leaned forward, and delved her manipulation. She glanced at him as he tapped into her magic to watch. The delving sickened him, as usual. He hated watching the manipulation of spirits. He felt it was evil. Wrong.

  She whispered, coaxing, using her hands to give shape to her manipulation. The candle's light did not go out. It was swallowed. He could see an outline of the flame in the sudden darkness about it, and then that was gone, too.

  He watched with the hunger to learn as she spun her manipulation deeper and deeper. The ball of blackness began to grow. It looked almost solid.

  He thought he could duplicate it. Ideas of patterns formed in his mind.

  “Watch the light from the window,” she said.

  He looked and blinked again. Then he rubbed his eyes. Was he still sleepy? The light entering from the window appeared to stretch somehow, as if being pulled into the inky blackness that roiled around the chair.

  With a wave and a whisper, she dismissed the blackness. Light appeared to rush in, as water would into an empty cup forcefully submerged.

  “Do you believe you could do this?” she said.

  That was a trap. One had to believe to accomplish anything with magic.

  “Of course.”

  “A standard initiate's answer.” Her tone accused him of not understanding.

  He gave her a sideways glare.

  She ignored the look. “Try it.”

  “The same as you? Around the candle?”

  She nodded. “As big as you can manage. As fast as you can manage. I will delve.”

  Having any Imperium wizard delving his magic was a danger. But he had thought about this overnight. He would try a trick with her that was as pure a gamble as a throw of the dice. He would have to control two magics at once, but he had done so the previous day.

  He reached within and began weaving two patterns in his mind. One was a sucking of light into blackness and the other he made evil and full of presence. That ought to satisfy her. I hope.

  Darkness blossomed around the candle. He continued forming the patterns and threw some more into the darkness.

  “Is that all you can manage? Oh--” Rashilla gasped.

  He opened his eyes, making sure to keep whispering nonsense that sounded like incantations to the spirit realm. But he was encased in blackness. He could almost feel it on his skin. It was still expanding.

  Shouts came from nearby rooms.

  “Release it,” she said.

  He concentrated, feeling her tapped into his magic. He needed to reverse the formation while maintaining the evil one so it appeared he was invoking the spirits.

  He grunted. He had never tried that before. The idea seemed as difficult as rolling his eyes in different directions. But he maintained the one while forcing his mind to reverse the other.

  “I said release it.” A note of urgency was in her voice.

  The shouts outside were louder and som
eone pounded on her door, then entered.

  He accelerated the reversal and the inky darkness spun down to nothing around the candle.

  The room was silent for three heartbeats.

  Rashilla stared at him, irritated, but not accusing. His ruse had worked.

  “What is this? The initiate who passed all five wards?” A bearded wizard strode into the room.

  “Indeed,” Rashilla said.

  “I have never seen the likes. Your students normally do not produce darkness beyond the chair.”

  She stood abruptly. “Did you see the darkness outside this room?”

  “It entered my study and into the next.”

  “Few can do such a thing,” she said.

  “He just did.”

  “My thanks to you, Akaso.”

  The wizard shook his head and left, closing the door.

  She frowned down at him, hands on her hips. “I see we can move along to the next, pushing. Somehow I think you will be testing before the end of the day.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  She squinted at him, but seemed satisfied he was not being sarcastic. “Yes, training for the upper wards is very fast. All of the basics are known. But usually we spend a day or two practicing and refining. If I am to believe my delving, you need no refinement of your focus. You just need to be shown.”

  He said nothing.

  “I would scarcely believe it in a strong student. But I especially cannot grasp how this can be with your historic failure in passing the basic Rukha.”

  “But I did pass.”

  She nodded, chewing on the inside of her lip. “Very well.” She sat back down at her desk. “Pushing.”

  * * *

  Melaki settled into a chair at The Swaggering Swine. The polished wooden walls were a comfort, as was the small fire.

  “Line them up?” Erilyn said. She cocked her hips and looked at him with a weary eye.

  “No, one is good. Please.” He placed a silver half-imperial down.

  She snatched it and was gone as fast.

  He blew out a breath and regarded the extra trim on his sleeve. Black and gold intertwined in a thin thread above his broad gold embroidery.

  He had passed the sixth ward in one day. But he was exhausted. He would not have been able to pass all of the first five wards being so closely scrutinized. Apparently, fast though it was for all who entered the upper wards, the testing was more rigorous. At the end, making a shield against magic, he had to overlay it with the appearance of spiritwork. That had required three patterns in his mind and had drained him so fast he felt as weary as when he had passed the five wards the previous day.