Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion)

by Cornett, Curtis

  “Then that is thirty-seven lives that was spared by his actions,” countered Tannys.

  “Why did you do it? Why did you sacrifice us?” asked another of the figures. This one was a woman.

  “I did not know what the consequences would be,” Byrn told her apologetically, “Magic is new to me. I didn’t understand that magic came from our blood. I did not even know how to cast a spell. It all happened instinctively.”

  “So you killed us by instinct?” asked another man. “That is hardly reassuring.”

  “Yes, I apologize, but yes. If I could undo it, I would. If I could sacrifice myself to return your lives, I would willingly do so.”

  “Is that possible?” another man-figure asked.

  “No,” said Kassani.

  “But he means it,” interjected Tannys, “Remember when that ogre attacked us, he was the only one to stand against it. One boy against an ogre.”

  “Yes, and he used us to defeat it,” said the first woman-figure.

  “Time grows short,” Ashura reminded her sister. “These souls need to be taken to the underworld.”

  “Of course, you are right,” said Kassani in her usual cool manner. “We both have other duties to attend to. If there are no objections let us begin with the judgment.”

  The assembly of souls was silent for a moment and then they began to move. Tannys took a place by Kassani indicating his son should be spared death, as did two of the men and a woman. The four other adults stood with Ashura leaving only the child still undecided.

  Judging from his size the boy was probably ten years old. He stared at Byrn for a few moments and finally asked him, “Do you promise never to kill anyone again?”

  “I do,” Byrn promised whole-heartedly feeling another rush of guilt and what he had done.

  The little boy made his way to Kassani's side stopping by Tannys Lightfoot.

  “It has been decided,” declared Kassani, “Byrn Lightfoot will live.”

  “Thank you,” Byrn told them. “I will not forget this kindness you have shown me.”

  “Indeed you will not,” Ashura assured him, “You have made a promise and I intend to see that you keep it. From this day forward you shall not kill another living thing as long as you live. Not even a bug and not even to defend your own life. If you forsake your promise, then your life will be forfeit.

  “Now go.”

  With a wave of Ashura’s arm Byrn was lost alone in a white void. He felt like he was tumbling through the sky falling faster and faster until he could no longer distinguish up from down. Weariness came over him and he found that he could no longer keep his eyes open.

  Chapter 15

  Four days passed since the assault on Colum before Byrn woke up in a small brown earthen room. Large runic symbols were carved into each of the walls and the cell door. There was a bed on one side and a seat with a small hole in it on the other that Byrn guessed was a replacement for a water closet.

  His head throbbed and he noticed small scars on his hands and wrists as he sat up and summarily flopped into the corner propping himself up opposite the large metal door.

  As he stared at his new surroundings he could only wonder, “Where am I?” and, “How did I end up in here?”

  “You are in a cell in Baj,” said an older voice from beyond the door. “I do not know who you are, but if you are here it is because you are a magician who did something that the kingdom found to be dreadful enough to warrant sticking you in this whole.”

  “This is Sane's fault. If he had only warned me,” Byrn said to himself. Not knowing whom he was speaking with he chose to speak formally as his father taught him. To the voice he said, “My name is Byrn Lightfoot of Colum. Might I ask your name?”

  “It is good to 'meet' you, Byrn Lightfoot,” said the voice amicably, “I am Xander Necros, the grand master of necromancy. Perhaps you have heard of me.”

  ***

  “I think I may go insane,” Byrn said to no one in particular looking around his tiny cell. He was unsure how much time had passed since he woke up in the prison, but it felt like weeks had gone by.

  Once again Byrn looked around the room taking everything in. There was a small slit in the iron door at eye level for the guards to check on him and another on the floor to pass plates of food through.

  The only places to sit were a surprisingly comfortable bed and a seat carved out of the floor with a hole in it for bowel movements that emanated a strong odor on hot summer days. There was no window and no way to judge the passage of time except by when meals arrived. Byrn quickly found out that the magicians were never allowed to leave their sparse cells and the only way to pass the time was by talking with his fellow prisoners in his cell cluster.

  Each cell cluster consisted of six cells with one prisoner in each cell placed in a rough circle. The cells were placed in this pattern to keep the prisoners separated, but still allow them some interaction. It was deemed that magicians were too dangerous to be allowed to roam outside of their cells at any time and further they needed to be kept separate to prevent them from killing each other in a misguided attempt to access the blood source. However, keeping the prisoners totally isolated locked in their cells for years on end tended to have the undesirable effect of driving them crazy. So the cell cluster design came about to prevent sadistic magicians from becoming crazy sadistic magicians.

  In Byrn's cell cluster there were five other magicians: Xander Necros, the grandmaster of necromancy; Ryonus Southsun, the bastard of a lord in the South Lands and a master of manipulation; Mantellus Firekin and Fredrik Thunderkin, both powerful elementalists of common birth; and Tell Necran, a necromancer of modest ability.

  “Not quite what you expected?” Xander ventured.

  “To be honest, I had no idea what to expect,” Byrn told him. “I never thought about it much. Even as a boy I tended to push thoughts of this place out of my mind. The idea that at any moment a gang of magicians could break out of this prison and begin killing my family and friends in Colum kept me up at night and gave me nightmares until I was eleven or twelve.”

  Mantellus laughed, “That does sound like fun, Fresh Meat, but if I ever escaped I would get as far away from this place as possible... then start killing people.”

  “Ignore him,” said Tell, the necromancer. “He is just playing with you.”

  “Maybe I am... then again maybe not,” Mantellus replied noncommittally, “but my point is that Colum is probably the safest place from a magician attack merely due to its proximity to Baj.”

  Byrn thought the fire elementalist was at least a little mad, but he wondered if he was mad before he came to this place or if it occurred gradually as the years crept by.

  “Quiet, the guards are coming,” warned Ryonus. He would not speak often, but when he did the others tended to listen believing that if he chose to talk whatever he had to say must be important.

  A faint scuffling of boots was nearly inaudible at first as if they were coming from very far away, but the sound quickly grew louder. As a master of manipulation Ryonus had enhanced senses that served him well in evading the Kenzai for years until one day they got lucky and stumbled upon him asleep in a makeshift camp. The boots stopped outside of Byrn's cell.

  “You have a visitor, son,” said the guard. Byrn could hear a key being inserted into his cell door and the release of a lock. The door swung open with a screech revealing a Kenzai guard dressed in plated armor and a helm. Unlike the Kenzai that spent their time searching for magicians or guarding the domains that wore light armor and cloaks, the guards in Baj wore heavy armor allowing them greater protection in the narrow halls that limited mobility.

  “He is not your son,” hissed Fredrik his words laced in venom. “Byrn is one of us.”

  “That is enough, Fredrik,” ordered Xander.

  “Mind your business,” the guard told Fredrik as he escorted Byrn from the cluster. He banged the butt of his nightstick against the magician's door as he passed.

  T
he guard led Byrn through several corridors bending to the left and the right, but none of them ever turned at right angles leaving the newest prisoner of Baj feeling disoriented. He thought that the prison was also a maze, but as they passed several clusters he began to think that the corridors connecting the various cell clusters was in a pattern like a spider's web. If someone did not know which way they were going they could easily become lost in here.

  Eventually, they reached an iron door leading to a receiving area. There were six guards in this room acting as sentries and standing in the middle of them was a magician wearing a green robe with a faint tree and root design.

  “Greetings, Byrn,” said Sane who seemed genuinely happy to see his apprentice.

  “Master Sane,” said Byrn with a short nod, unsure of what to make of the sorcerer’s sudden arrival.

  The sorcerer motioned to a door at his right and the guards opened it allowing the two magicians to enter an open grass area within the prison's walls. The sun felt warm on Byrn's face. He wondered how long he had been in that cell. It felt like he was in there for weeks, but in reality he thought it might have only been a few days since he woke up in that cell.

  “The warden told me I would be here for the next eight years,” Byrn told him, “Have you come to get me out of here?”

  “No, your sentence was a decree from the king, so there is no changing it unless he personally decides to reduce or pardon your sentence. However, it could have been worse. He could have sentenced you to death or life imprisonment for what happened,” said Sane. “In addition to your not being dead, I was able to get another boon from his highness. He has allowed me to train you in the ways of magic so that once you are released you will be a highly skilled magician and ready to serve the kingdom.”

  The idea that Byrn might serve the kingdom after being imprisoned here for so long was nearly laughable, but he did not comment. Instead he chose to ask something that had weighed heavily on his mind. “Why did you fail to tell me where the magic came from when we first began talking of magic? If I had known the source before I killed all of those people they might still be alive.” Byrn added accusingly, “including my father.”

  Sane looked shocked for a moment, “I didn’t know about your father. I thought that the ogre killed him,” but he did not respond to the accusation directly. Instead, he began Byrn’s first lesson. “I guess that is as good a place to start as any. Magic is powered by an essence located within the blood. We call it the blood source...”

  Sane explained how the blood source was used to power magic. Most of it Byrn already knew from his encounter with the goddesses of life and death, but eventually Sane touched on some new information. “...There are more effective and less lethal ways of extracting that essence from a magician's blood. A properly enchanted staff or grimoire can be used as a focusing device to pass the source through the body and dispel it safely without risk to the magician. Like a lightning rod attracts a bolt, a focusing device attracts that essence from you allowing you to wield magic safely and far more effectively.”

  He handed Byrn his staff. It was ornately carved with a strange circular design coming out of the wood on one end and a blade on the other. It looked much like a fancy short spear and had a solid heft to it. “What is the blade for?” Byrn asked curiously.

  “It is for stabbing,” Sane told him without a hint of a smile.

  The lesson continued for most of the day. Sane explained the fundamentals of casting a basic spell: concentration, visualization, and energy. “It is important to cast with a clear mind to ensure you conjure just what you want,” he said at one point, “and to picture the outcome of what you want.

  “Like when you fought the ogre at the temple. You did not think of killing it at first did you? Only of holding it back. But after a while when the beast did not relent you began to wish it dead and your spells grew more intense.”

  “If I had wished it dead immediately, I would have used less magic in the long run, right? If I would have done that, would those people still be alive?” Byrn asked not truly sure if he wanted the answer.

  “It is difficult to say, once history is written there is no undoing it. Guessing at what might have been is nothing more than that- a guess.” Sane told him as a matter of fact. “Let us get some practice in,” he added somewhat cheerfully in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

  Chapter 16

  Marian Lightfoot could not stop crying.

  A few weeks had passed since her husband died and her son was imprisoned. Byrn sat in a prison cell just two miles away, but he might as well be on the other side of the world. She grieved for her lost family and friends, but more than anything else she felt alone. Perhaps that was why she found herself drawn to her husband's grave every day.

  “Are you well?” asked a concerned voice.

  Marian looked up to see an elf woman standing above her. She was tall and slender with a fair complexion dressed in leathers.

  “My husband is dead. My son is a prisoner in Baj. My friends- the ones that were not killed by ogres- are treating me like I carry a plague; and I am unsure of how I am going to survive on my own. I went from my father's home to my husband's and have never been on my own before. All things considered I am definitely not well,” Marian told the elf choking back tears.

  “Your son is in Baj...” the elf woman mused, “Are you Byrn Lightfoot's mother?”

  “Yes, he is my son. I am Marian Lightfoot. Do you know him?”

  “We met only briefly, but I am a friend of the sorcerer, Sane. My name is Sarianna of the Red Tree Clan, but everyone calls me Sari,” she said extending her hand in friendship.

  Marian shook it limply.

  Sari looked her up and down critically, “You said your name was 'Lightfoot.' Do you have any experience as a courier? Riding or anything?”

  “My husband, Tannys, and I used to ride together when we were younger. We would travel together on some of his assignments when we were younger,” she smiled thinking of him, “but I got the name through marriage rather than profession.”

  The elf appeared to be considering something for a moment and then made a proposition to the grief stricken widow, “I have been helping the knight-captain of the guard investigate the ogre attack and I would not mind having some company if you would like to join me.”

  Marian remembered the night of the attack and the terror she felt as she fled the monster that killed Nanny Regald. Reading her expression Sari added, “There is little to fear. The cave has been cleared of ogres and they would have eaten or scared off any other aggressive inhabitants when they moved in. I am a ranger by trade and am looking for clues that might lead to the whereabouts of the woman responsible for your husband's death as well as hundreds of others.”

  “A woman? So you know who did this?” Marian asked. She could hear the desperation in her own voice, but cared little for appearances as the sudden desire for vengeance welled up inside of her.

  “I met her, but I do not know her. She was a young woman about the same age as your son maybe a little older. It is difficult for me to judge most humans' ages,” seeing the questioning look on Marian's face she added for clarification, “The girl is a magician of some considerable skill and power.”

  The desire for vengeance took hold of Marian Lightfoot overriding any sense of fear over her own well-being. The thought of exacting revenge against the person responsible for taking her family away would have been enough to convince her to single-handedly storm the underworld if it meant finding justice for her lost loved ones.

  Chapter 17

  Xander Necros paced back and forth in his small cell. He had been locked in this prison for nearly a decade and it started to take its toll long ago. Everyday he had to fight off the creeping madness of claustrophobia and cabin fever. So the old grandmaster was thankful for his new cellmate, Byrn, and the distraction he provided.

  Having someone new to talk to was a real treat not only for him, but for his companions
as well. Xander genuinely liked the fledgling magician, but he also saw the faintest of opportunities to escape this gray world of rock and grime. The long hours of inactivity led Xander’s mind down various paths as he tried to find a means of escape or a way to turn even minor events to his advantage. It was with this thinking that Xander realized there might be a slim chance at escape involving his young friend. On occasion Byrn was allowed to leave his cell under guard. He was under constant supervision from the Kenzai guards and his master, but the lad had far more freedom than any other prisoner had.

  The necromancer was serving a life sentence. It was a joke really to think that he could be limited to one lifetime, but he feared madness in the decades to come if he remained imprisoned in Baj.

  Time was difficult to measure. Days, months, and years all ran together, but it was especially difficult when it came to smaller increments like a few hours. It seemed like Byrn was gone for most of the day before the guard returned with him. The guard wordlessly deposited the youngster in his cell. Xander was pleased that Byrn did not appear to be interacting with the guards when he left for his training sessions. He did not want the boy to feel too comfortable around the Kenzai. Byrn needed to feel like his cellmates were the only ones he could trust- especially Xander.

  When the guard's footsteps had faded away Ryonus gave the all clear that they could speak freely again.

  “What did your master teach you?” Mantellus asked. His tone was more accusatory than Xander would have liked. Still he was curious to hear the answer and did not chide the elementalist.

  “Master Sane was teaching me how to use a staff and cast basic spells,” Byrn told them. “He was also testing me to see which disciplines I am most aligned with.”

  “That's admirable of him,” commented Xander, “Training a killer...”