The sound of servants going about their nightly routine drifted through the halls of the keep. The kitchens weren’t far from the entrance hall, and the clang of pans and chopping of vegetables wafted to Leaghan’s ears as they prepared for the coming day. She could hear snippets of their conversation, and the occasional bark of laughter.
The Wizard’s Keep seemed warm, warm in a way that suggested home and comfort and safety. Leaghan didn’t like to think that there were other places in the keep, other rooms that were meant for magics and for secrecy, and for a world removed from the norms of conversations and meals and good friends.
Marcella’s breath quickened, coming from her throat in a wheezing rattle. It was the sound of Marcone, who had likely loved his tobacco in life. The wyvern had made contact, and the ancient, dead wizard was coming. Marcella’s hands fidgeted on her lap, her left eye twitched with a nervous tick, and moments later, she opened her eyes. There was a blue cast to the normally dark brown eyes, and her dark hair seemed somehow lighter, highlighted with blond.
“What is it?” Marcone rasped.
Leaghan sat up straight, her body taking an automatic posture at the presence of her teacher despite the shooting pain in her back. “There was an attack tonight,” she said.
“On you, or the city?”
“Here in the keep. After I gathered my staff, I came home.” She detailed what happened then, the presence of the little boy with the black mouth and the ghostly eyes. “At first I thought it might have been Baba Yaga, since I’ve defeated her before, but she appeared differently when last we fought.”
Marcone shook his head. “Baba Yaga is certainly a great arch-mage, but I think you’re right that it was Andraal. When a wizard reaches an age, or a depth of power, they no longer require a physical form. Some great wizards have merged with their magic, and can appear at random, whenever and wherever they like. They often appear as they were in life, but sometimes they appear differently, depending on their whim.”
Leaghan considered that. “But they aren’t dead?”
Marcone shook his head again. “No. A dead wizard, such as myself, cannot manifest without a channel, and the magic we display is far weaker than what you’ve described. Few have reached a proficiency with magic to merge with it.”
“He said that I was to stop working my magic, or he would kill me,” Leaghan said.
Marcone frowned, his breath rattling in his chest. He coughed a couple phlegmy coughs, but it didn’t seem to ease the rattle. “Andraal had a son that looked much as you describe.”
“So it was Andraal’s son?”
“Let me finish,” he said, holding up a hand. “This son was young when he died. An affliction of the blood. He lost his hair, his mouth had blackened. It was a very traumatic experience for all involved. Many people think that Ansen’s death was the reason Andraal went crazy. Soon after Ansen’s wasting illness took him from the lands, Andraal forged the warding to keep dragons at bay.”
“What did the dragons have to do with it? Did they curse him?”
“No, but they were a big danger in those times, and Andraal was tired of dealing with the death and the damage left in their wake.”
“So this really was Andraal?” Leaghan asked.
Marcone nodded.
The revelation rocked Leaghan. It had been one thing to think it was the arch-mage. It was entirely different to know it. Her hands began to shake, and she bunched them together in her lap. How was she supposed to face this? He’d insisted she stopped working magic. That seemed like the only reasonable thing to do. What else was there to do? She couldn’t face him, and even if she could, he would break the shield that held her wild magics at bay. He’d already shown her that he could do it.
“Marcella is right, you need to get to safety,” Marcone interrupted her thoughts. “He can certainly kill you. When a wizard becomes an arch-mage, it’s because of how powerful they are. There’s no way you can stop him.”
“If I can’t stop him, what are guards going to do for me?” Leaghan asked.
Marcone frowned.
“Why is he doing this?” she wondered. “Wouldn’t he be happy that wizards are coming back?”
“Did you miss the part where I said he was crazy?”
It was Leaghan’s turn to frown. “So maybe he won’t make another appearance at all?”
“No, he certainly will. You need to be prepared.”
“And how is running away going to prepare me?” she wondered. “Shouldn’t I work harder?”
“You should get to safety, or ensure your safety,” Marcone repeated. “But if you’re not willing to leave here, then you need to secure the keep.”
Leaghan nodded. If nothing else, having a few more people around—outside of the servants she rarely saw, and Marcella—would help ease her mind, even if they didn’t offer much in the way of protection from an ancient, powerful foe.
“But yes, you need to train in magic. It likely won’t help, but at least you won’t be without some form of protection. It will anger him, but maybe something else has already drawn his attention, like the dragons.”
“So what do I do?”
“You’ve already gotten your staff; you need to figure out what the first spell is to graph onto it. Learn the rune for the spell. Gather the components. I would suggest a simple illumination spell. For that, you will need carbon stone, some of your blood, a bowl, and a fresh quill you will only use for magic work. You can draw the blood before the ritual.”
“I thought blood magic was forbidden,” she argued.
“There’s a difference between using your blood as an aid to magic and doing blood magic. Blood magic works because of the process of bloodletting. The real power doesn’t come from the blood as much as it comes from the release of life when the last of the blood runs free of the body. A few drops of your blood doesn’t count as blood magic.”
Leaghan nodded.
“Most of these components you will find in the laboratory. There is some carbon stone left up there, you will know them because they are marked, and they don’t look like normal stones. They are cloudy and shimmer with rainbow colors.
“Activating the carbon stone is the most important part. You will want to set it in the light you most want to summon. If you want bright illumination, I would set it out in the noontime sun for a span of hours to make sure it really captures the light. Then you need to grind it to powder the same way we grind the dragon scales.”
Leaghan nodded, trying to remember all of the information he was shooting at her. At Marcone’s insistence, she’d been working on her memory. A few ingredients and how to prepare them wasn’t that difficult, but she feared she wouldn’t remember every detail.
“When I come to you again, we will work on the staff. Be ready. Also, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to work on your robes.”
“What will I need for that?” she asked.
“A robe in whatever color you choose, and a variety of threads and a good, sharp needle you will only use for spell work. After we work with your staff, I will instruct you with what you need for the first binding on the robe.”
“What’s the first binding?” she wondered.
“A shielding spell so that magic can’t harm you as much.”
“Shouldn’t I work on that first?” she wondered. “Shouldn’t I forget the staff, and work on the robe first?”
“No,” Marcone said. “Protection is important, but you haven’t worked any magic yet. I want to see how you do with the staff first, and then we will work on the robe, which will be slightly more difficult.”
He stared at Leaghan for a moment before speaking again. “The binding on the robes is harder than what we are doing with your staff. It would be nearly impossible to learn the runes for the binding as well as all the other parts of magic that you will need to focus into the casting. We will learn those other aspects first by charging your staff with a simple spell.”
Leaghan nodded. She didn’t like the idea of goi
ng any longer without some kind of protection against Andraal, but she understood the wisdom of what Marcone said. If she messed up the runes on her robes, it could be very dangerous for her. If the runes weren’t precise, and she activated them, it could cause her more damage than good.
“There’s one other thing. There’s a secret library off the laboratory. You should seek it out.”
“Okay,” she said.
“It was Andraal’s own library, so be careful going in there. When he realized I found the library, he killed me. Tread lightly.”
She was unsure of the wisdom of doing any more to anger Andraal, but if Marcone thought she should seek it out, then that’s what she was going to do. Before she could ask any more about the library, or exactly where she’d find it, the light faded from Marcella’s eyes. The rattling breath eased, and Marcone was gone.
The carbon stone was just as Marcone described it. There was energy coming from it, unlike any of the other stones on the shelf. Leaghan couldn’t tell what the energy was yet, she was still getting used to even being able to feel energies. She did know that the energy made her feel strange, like a whisper of consciousness emanated from the stone and across her fingers. If she held it long enough, she was sure she would hear it speak to her. Where that particular thought came from, she didn’t know. What she did know was she was more than happy to deposit the stone on the windowsill in the light of the noontime sun. The moment it was out of her hand, she felt instantly better.
Marcella insisted on going to see Garrett about getting some wyverns in the keep, and while she was out, Leaghan had decided it would be a good time to search for Andraal’s room. At least if Andraal came back and decided to go on a killing spree, Marcella wouldn’t be around. The servants were in various other parts of the keep; they never ventured to the laboratory on Leaghan’s wishes. There was no telling what kind of havoc they would create in her storage system in an attempt to clean and organize the room.
She gazed at the long table in the center of the room. It was laden with books and with baskets of various components she had yet to grind, sort, package, and store. It was a total mess, but she knew where everything was. In a strange way, it made the room look more wizardly.
Marcone had indicated that the secret library was somewhere in the laboratory, but Leaghan hadn’t seen any indication of another room in all the time she’d spent there, and that was saying something since she nearly seemed to live in the laboratory. She wasn’t sure what she expected, though. Was there going to be a big sign proclaiming the entrance of a super-secret room?
Leaghan walked around the large room, her hands exploring every inch of the walls, rubbing here, stroking there, looking for any kind of stone that might be loose, or anything that might be off. It was hard to tell, however, because so many of the stones were different. The wall wasn’t smooth at all, it was ridged, pitting and heaving in odd ways.
She tiptoed around the copper circle inlaid in the floor, being sure not to cross through even the first of the three circles that were built one within the other. She ignored the runes along each circle as well. She was sure there would be a time before long she had to learn those runes inside and out, and she’d rather not spend more time on it than she’d need to in the future.
After searching every square inch of the room, Leaghan flopped down in a chair and fiddled with the clean quill she had as backup to her regular writing quill. This quill had a white feather at the end.
She thought about the blood, and the reason for using it on her staff. She already had all of her components lined up above the open book where she could study the simple light rune that would be scribed on her staff. She’d even taken the time to look up the rune for protection, and wasn’t surprised to see it wasn’t just one rune but a whole line of runes that would form a band once end met end. It was a circle of protection.
Her eyes drifted back to the copper circles at the shadowy end of the laboratory. She was certain it was the same set of runes as the ones for protection.
Marcone had been right, it would be more difficult for her to embroider her robes. Robes that she still had to get. She considered gathering her robe now, but when she pushed to a stand, a glimmer of light caught her attention. She turned toward the light, and was surprised to see the back wall was catching the glimmer of light that refracted off the carbon stone in the window. Rainbow light seemed to reflect off the back wall, and when she inspected it closer, she saw a small indent in the wall large enough for a finger to slip into.
Something within was catching the light of the carbon stone and reflecting it back. Unsure what it could be, Leaghan stuck her finger inside to see if she could pry whatever it was out. Whatever it was, was sharp because it sliced into her finger, and she yelped, pulling the wounded appendage back. She jammed her finger into her mouth as a deep rumble sounded within the wall, and suddenly stones were folding back, opening up before her to reveal a long, dark tunnel.
Musty air greeted her, whooshing out of the entrance like a breath that had been held too long. The smell of mildew and parchment welcomed her. The mildew wasn’t a good sign, and she hoped—if this was the library—that the books weren’t too badly damaged.
She raced back to the long table, and lit a lamp, and hurried back to the entrance. The doorway hadn’t closed yet, and Leaghan wondered if there was a way for her to close it at all. She didn’t need to, honestly. While the laboratory was restricted to Leaghan and Marcella, the doorway could remain open. However, if wyverns came to stay with them in the keep, she might have to figure something out. If this was a secret library, it was secret for a reason.
She didn’t waste any time entering the hallway. It was covered with spider webs, she realized after taking one web in the face. Now she walked with one hand out before her to catch the webs before they caught her.
The darkness of the hallway seemed unnatural. The lamp lit no more than a small circle around her, so when she came to the corner, it was in an abrupt halt. She turned and followed the hallway a few steps farther before catching herself moments before she tumbled down a wide set of stairs.
She let out a soft growl of frustration and eased her way down the stairs, her eagerness suppressed by her desire to not break her neck before she discovered what this chamber had to offer.
The stairs wound downward in a wide, gradual bend. There was a wall to her left but an open space to her right. She felt as though the space to her right was infinitely huge, but it was a trick the dark played on her.
As she walked, the lamp in her hand flared brighter. The first, guttering flare of the lamp nearly made her cry out. When the lamp flared again, she wasn’t surprised, though still a little startled. When the lamp flared a third time, a small ball of fire flashed out of it and alighted on the wick of another lamp down below. The lamp below guttered, and then flared. Around the chamber, several other lamps seemed to draw fire from the first, central light until the chamber was lit with a warm, soft glow. The smell of mildew had receded some time before, and she wasn’t sure if the mildew had reached this far, or if she had gotten used to it.
While the chamber was large, the number of books it contained was a letdown. There were three shelves against the back wall, and all of them were only half full. She raced down the last of the stairs, now that she could see where she was going, she didn’t waste any time going to the old wooden shelves. There was a reading table in the circle provided by the stairs, and the central lamp beckoned from there, as if asking her to pull up a seat and read for a while.
There were no other doors, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or not. It meant there was only one way to escape. It also meant Andraal hadn’t been worried about being found out. Either he was secure in his hiding place, or he knew that anyone who came down here would meet their end.
It gave Leaghan pause. What if she grabbed a book in haste and released some kind of spell that would kill her?
No, Marcone said Andraal had killed him, not that he’d
died from a trap. Still, Leaghan was careful when she removed a book and read the title. It was a grimoire written in a language that seemed older than the ancient language of magic Marcone was teaching her.
She flipped through it, only able to understand some of the diagrams and none of the tables. Several books were like that before she finally reached a thin, leather-bound book. When she flipped open the cover, she could see that it was Andraal’s personal journal.
Skimming further, she realized it was a manifest, written in the language she was learning. The ink was brown and old, but what bothered her more was what the book contained—names and the dates the people died.
No, not the dates they died…the dates they were killed.
She was holding the journal of a madman, detailing those people he’d killed, and notes on how it was done. The thought chilled her more than the dank library. He knew what he’d been doing, and he’d kept a detailed record…for what purpose? For someone to find years later? For his own amusement?
She cleared her throat and tried to push aside the chill that fingered its way up her spine. She flipped back to the first page and read the name.
Adept Marcone. Killed 407. Dead for espionage against the arch-mage Andraal.
“Ahhh, fire fruit,” Drex said, leaning back on his arms. Around them, insects trilled and chirped in the evening air. There were so many sounds, and Josef was sure each one came from a different insect. He didn’t know there were so many insects. He could only imagine a small army of them singing their way through the grass underneath him, and the orange leaves fluttering above. The sun was setting in the west amidst an ocean of pink and purple clouds. Wisps of clouds rippled toward the horizon. Josef sighed and felt his tension melt into the moist earth beneath him.
He never would have thought a place could be so full of life, so full of sound and color. It amazed him even as it relaxed him.
Dragon Forged: Chronicles of Dragon Aerie Young Adult Fantasy Fiction (Plague Born Book 3) Page 9