by Jon Bender
“Magus Serin, I require fifty of your mages. They should be ready to leave in the morning.” Corin struggled to keep the snarl from his voice.
“Yes, your majesty, I will be among those going and will personally ensure that they perform well in your service,” he said, giving a small bow.
More likely, the man saw this as an opportunity to gain more influence in court. Corin suspected Serin was ambitious, not happy with the power he currently held and secretly wanting to rule as mages had before the wars. Men like Serin were the reason there were so few mages today. Consumed by ego and a thirst for power, they had caused the deaths of many.
“Very well,” Corin said. He stayed another few minutes before leaving the officers to attend to the details of their tasks. He still had much to do before he could finally rest.
Chapter 14
Jaxom’s throat ached from where the risen had choked him. He had woken that morning, slumped over the neck of his horse. Ropes securely tied him to the saddle and large metal cylinders had been bolted over his closed fists. The manacles were an ingenious idea he had to admit. They restricted his ability to cast. Drawing death into himself, Jaxom tried to force it through the bindings only to feel the power harmlessly dissolve.
His friends had been similarly bound to their mounts, and Da’san had been gagged with a piece of cloth torn from his robes. Jaxom counted twenty-five of the enemy risen around them, including the ones he had charred last night. Some carried the weapons they had taken from the group, and he was glad to see his sword among them. Beyond guiding the horses, their captors paid them no attention but gazed ahead with vacant expressions. Jaxom craned his neck to see his companions. Brenin and Adriana had both been wounded. Brenin’s shoulder was stained red while Adriana had a long cut down her arm. Both injuries had been crudely bound. Whoever controlled their risen captors clearly wanted them alive.
Jaxom had little doubt that this person was a death mage. Jaxom was not sure how to feel about that. His joy at discovering that he was not the only one, was somewhat tempered by the fact that this the death mage had attacked him and his friends. Jaxom also had to assume that this same death mage had tried to kill him on more than one occasion. The goal from the beginning was to find out who this person was and what they intended. Jaxom morbidly thought this was one way to do it, and wondered if he could get Cribble to believe this was all part of the plan. Looking over to the surely guard captain, the man spit on one of the risen guards walking next to his mount and chuckled to himself. Not likely.
“Hey,” Jaxom yelled at one of the risen. “I want to talk to you.” Adriana craned her neck up and stared at him as if he had gone crazy. Ignoring her, Jaxom continued yelling. “I know you can hear me. I said I want to talk.”
“And what is it you wish to talk about, Magus Jaxom?” the risen rasped. Adriana had switched to staring at the speaker as if she was the one who was going crazy.
“I want to know what you plan to do with us.” “For now, I will bring you back to my palace. We have some matters to discuss that concern us both.”
“And after that?” “That is up to you.” “Who are you?” “All will be revealed once you arrive,” the speaker said. After that, the risen man stopped responding to anything Jaxom said, and Jaxom had no choice but to wait.
Before long, the trees began thinning, and the group and their escorts emerged into a large break in the forest that spanned tens of miles. The tall green grass suggested that it had once been farmland. In the distance, a large city stood in dark contrast to the green fields surrounding it. The city was as big if not bigger than Ale’adar. Unlike many other cities, which grew randomly around a central place, this one seemed to have been thought out beforehand. Jaxom now understood what Adriana meant when she had described it to him. The city was completely round and encircled by a stonewall. From where he sat, he could see through a massive open gate in the outer wall, straight down a street to the inner wall, and the palace behind that. In defensive terms, it made no sense to have such straight lines. Still, Jaxom reflected, a city designed by mages would be as orderly as possible, regardless of the obvious strategic weaknesses.
All of his companions, except Adriana, stared in wonder at the preserved city. To find a city amidst an uninhabitable wilderness was astonishing in itself, but the grandeur of the mage city was something else entirely. Jaxom saw Adriana glance at the looming city then look away quickly, shivering as though she felt a chill. All her life, she had been told that to enter the city was to die. In spite of the danger, Jaxom felt a small thrill of excitement. Meeting another mage like him opened up the possibility of having so many questions answered. A cobblestone road appeared underfoot during their approach, and an hour later, they were passing through the gate and outermost buildings of the city. All the structures were made of grey stone bricks, neatly mortared together. Most buildings were three stories tall with broken doors and caved in rooves. The walls, however, were sound and solid, looking as if they had been built only a short time ago. In one building, unclothed mannequins posed behind smashed glass. The smithy, with its large chimneys and a sign in the shape of an anvil hanging out front, was silent and still. Taverns, inns, bakeries, everything a city needed was there, lacking only the people to make it real. Without inhabitants, it was simply an empty shell, as devoid of life as their risen escort.
The avenue branched into smaller roads moving off to the left and right, curving away out of sight before leading right back to the same spot. It was not long before they arrived at another large stonewall with two great archways standing side by side. They passed under the raised portcullis into a more elaborate part of the city. These houses and buildings were much finer than those they had seen before, many having marble carvings and decorative ironwork. These must have been the houses of the lower nobility and wealthier merchants. Some of the houses were enclosed behind gates, and the gardens within had become overgrown, turning the courtyards into miniature forests.
As they approached the palace, Jaxom noticed other walls running the length of the city. Mirroring the avenue they were on, they effectively sectioned the city into even parts, like a pie. At the final barrier before the palace, heavy ironbound doors standing almost eighteen feet tall swung slowly open, revealing yet another portcullis being raised. Jaxom reconsidered his position on the defensibility of this city. Even with its straight lines, an invading army would have a difficult time capturing it. If they breached the outer perimeter of the city, the defenders could simply seal that section off, attacking from the surrounding walls and turning that part of the city into a death trap.
The risen untied their ropes before pulling them roughly from their saddles and dragging them into the palace. With their hands still bound, the risen led them deeper inside. They made so many turns that Jaxom finally gave up on trying to map their path in his mind. If they managed to get free, they would have a difficult time finding their way out of this labyrinth. Eventually they stopped at a door where they separated Jaxom from the others. Jaxom watched as the rest of his party were pushed through the door and down a dark flight of stairs. He struggled against the two risen holding him, but it was of no use. His guards did not even seem to notice his efforts.
After yet more turns, the risen stopped in front of an archway leading into a large library. When Jaxom made no move, he was shoved forward. Taking cautious steps, he walked around the room, examining the grand collection of books arranged on shelves that reached the ceiling. The room was well lit by oil lamps and the small flames of candles arrayed on long wooden tables at the center of the room. From among the free standing shelves, a man stepped out with an open book in his hands. He continued to read as he took a seat at one of the tables. He flipped slowly through the pages, engrossed in whatever he found there.
After a long pause, he spoke. “Come, Jaxom. Have a seat. There is much we have to talk about.” He finally looked up. Jaxom awkwardly attempted to scoot a chair back with his encased hands. “Forgiv
e me, I forgot about your bindings.”
The man stretched out his hand and released a ribbon of black smoke. Jaxom tried to flinch away as the ribbon split in two, wrapping around his wrists in bands that he could not physically feel. What he did feel came from within. The power he had drawn to attack his captor seemed to disintegrate almost as if the power had rotted away inside of him. The man gave a small knowing smile that irritated Jaxom. One of the risen at the archway came forward then, pulling a key from somewhere and unlocking the manacles. He dropped the cursed things on the table before moving back.
Flexing his hands to relieve the cramps from hours of confinement, Jaxom studied the man before him, burning every detail into his mind. He was middle-aged, around forty, with short black hair and matching black eyes. A fitted black shirt showed a body that was strong and healthy. While sitting, it was hard to estimate how tall the older man was, but Jaxom guessed him to be a little taller than six feet. His features were sharp lines, creating a look that most women would consider handsome. It struck Jaxom that he had seen this person before. Every time he had gazed into a mirror.
“Ah, you see the similarity” the man said. “Do not worry, young mage, I am not your father,” he said, laughing.
Jaxom had not actually considered that possibility, but he was thankful to hear the man say so. “Who are you then?”
“My name is Alimar Mors, and though I am not your father, we are related… distantly.”
Jaxom had so many questions, and the other death mage seemed more than willing to talk. Where was he to start? He knew he should begin by asking why Alimar had attacked Corin. Instead, he set aside duty for the moment. “Are we the only ones?”
Alimar’s face went blank. “As far as I know. I have heard nothing of other death mages in any of the kingdoms. I learned of you some years back, but you were very young and not yet able to understand.”
“Understand what?” Jaxom asked.
“What is really going on in the world, what mages are really here for, and why this war was inevitable.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand,” Jaxom said.
“That is why I had you brought here,” he said leaning back in the chair and seeming to measure Jaxom up.
“Brought me here? You’ve been trying to kill me!” “You were not supposed to be in the castle the night the faithful were there. I did not expect you to return from Denra so quickly. In fact, you are the reason the faithful failed at their task. You are more formidable than I had hoped,” he said smiling.
“What about the creature in the holding cells, and the mage who tried to cook me alive?”
“The being you met in the cells was not my doing,” he said. Jaxom thought he caught a hint of annoyance in his voice. “And Magus Jerrin, the fire caster you met, was sent to invite you here. He went against orders, thinking to kill you and remove a competitor. He may have done it were it not for the enchantment on your sword… I am curious… Where did you acquire that blade?”
“I enchanted it.”
Alimar let out a low whistle. “Impressive. Though not unexpected, given your lineage.”
“Why did you want Corin dead?” Jaxom asked.
“I personally do not want him dead, but the one I… serve…does. He wishes turmoil amongst the kingdoms to further his own gains.” Jaxom hoped that Alimar’s hesitation to describe his relationship with whoever was pulling the strings might prove an opening to create dissent.
“Who do you serve?” Jaxom asked.
“That is a long story and the reason I met you here,” he said gesturing with both arms to the library around them. He slid the book he had been reading over to Jaxom. “This will help you understand the first part of what I wish to teach you. As you can see, the book is genuine, predating even the Mage Wars.”
Jaxom could tell Alimar was telling the truth. The book was very old, probably the oldest he had ever seen. “I will do nothing until I know my friends are safe.”
“I thought that might be the case,” Alimar said, waving to the entryway. Jaxom looked over his shoulder and saw Adriana standing by the door, restrained by a pair of risen.
Jaxom rushed to her. “Are you alright? Where are the others?” “I am fine, and so were the others the last time I saw them. We are being held in some fancy room in the dungeon. It must have been meant for noble prisoners or something, but I do not know where they took Da’san,” she said.
Jaxom looked back at the other man. Alimar had stood while they talked. “I am afraid the priest cannot be left ungagged. His connection to Sarinsha makes him too much of a threat, but I assure you that he is being treated as well as can be managed,” Alimar said. “If you wish, the lady can see for herself.”
Jaxom nodded. Turning back to Adriana, he looked into her eyes. “Tell the others to do nothing for now. If you do not see me within a day, assume that I am dead. Do whatever you must to get out of here.” Adriana nodded and hugged Jaxom before the risen led her away.
“Now that you know your friends are being well treated, and I think you will find what this book has to tell you very interesting,” Alimar said. With that, he left the library. Two of the risen remained as guards.
Jaxom sat back down at the table and flipped open the cover. The title of the book was written in gold filigree, War of the Gods. Jaxom had never heard of a war involving the gods, but from the age of the book, he guessed that this war had taken place long ago. On the first page, Jaxom found a message from the writer declaring that the book was a copy of the original. The ink beginning to fade from the first, it had been determined that it was to be rewritten before the knowledge was lost. Jaxom had never seen written work so old. He began to read.
This is the history of how mages came to be in this world. At first, men knew nothing of the power to cast. They only knew of the gods who demanded obedience and devotion. It is not known where the gods came from, but many have speculated that the energy used by mages today was the source of their creation. It is believed that as the world aged, energy became sentient--aware of itself. As man came to populate the world, the gods found they could draw strength from devotion and prayer. Energy created by man in the form of belief strengthened the gods, giving them more power to further exert their will.
Over time, some of the gods became gluttonous, craving more and more worshipers. They commanded their followers to make war, forcing other peoples to convert or die. This was the beginning of the War of the Gods. During the fighting, a god whose name has been lost wished to give his followers an advantage over other worshipers. He gifted his most devout followers with the ability to harness the energy that had formed the gods themselves. He named his new weapons Magi and sent them forth to devastate the enemy armies. The few accounts of these wars claim that these Magi were not limited to the casting of one type of energy, but could control all of the types of magic that today we find to be separate.
Finding themselves at a severe disadvantage, the other gods had no choice but to create Magi of their own. The death and destruction of the war increased as thousands marched into battle, and the Magi laid waste to them. Famine, disease, and long winters killed many more. As the death toll climbed ever higher, man eventually rebelled against those they had served. When their worshipers refused to fight any longer, the gods became angry. To punish them, the gods came bodily into the world to destroy those who would no longer serve. It was then that the Magi, the most devout of all, turned against their creators, wielding the magic of the gods to fight against them in defense of humanity.
Jaxom became completely engrossed as he read about how the mages fought the gods whenever they appeared. They sacrificed dozens of their own just to hold the powerful beings at bay. Seeing no way to win, the mages delved deeper into the magic to harness an energy the gods knew nothing about, the power of death. The mages that harnessed this new magic became a true threat. These new death mages stood at the forefront of every battle. Wherever gods came into the world, they stood ready to meet
them, and for the first time in known history, the all-powerful beings died at the hands of men.
With this new threat, the gods grew fearful, using their faithful to fight instead of coming into the world themselves. The death mages decided to pursue the gods to their own ground. They forced open gates to the plane the gods resided in and faced them there. Attacked in their homes, the gods were forced to offer a treaty to the mages. They would no longer command those who followed them to fight in their names and would step back from the world, only intervening when invoked by men. They created a priesthood to act as conduits and ensure a lasting peace. The gods also demanded something in return. As the price of peace, no longer would the mages have complete control of magic, but each would ever be bound to one school, and mages would pass that same power to their children. The mages agreed and peace came into the world.
Jaxom sat back, amazed at what he had just learned. The candles on the table showed that he had been reading for hours. Why was this history hidden? The gods had created the mages who had then turned against them. This explained the mages’ deep aversion to worship. The history itself must have been destroyed at some point, but the feelings harbored were still strong. The book had answered questions he had never thought to ask, only to leave him with many more. Why would the mages agree to give up so much of their abilities? What happened after the pact was made?