The Rogue Mage (The Age of Oracles Book 1)

by Ben Hale

  “Ally?” Jester asked with a sniff. “Is that what you want to call her?”

  Raiden laughed, and fleetingly realized it was the first moment of levity between them in months. Jester was right, and as much as they had fought together, they did not act like friends. Throughout the conversation he sensed a shift in their companionship.

  “Tell me about your current love,” he said.

  “My current love is secret,” Jester said with a smile, “but I’ll tell you about my previous one.”

  Jester launched into a description of a raven haired beauty in the coastal city of Keese. As his companion spoke, Raiden relaxed in the saddle, laughing and smiling for the first time in years. Vaguely, he knew that to relax was dangerous. Thousands of Verinai and Griffin soldiers were hunting him, and if Alydian had betrayed him, they would arrive at any moment.

  But they did not come.

  Raiden’s smile widened as he thought of her. Alydian might be an oracle, but she was valiant and courageous, fearless even against one like the Soldier. When anyone else would have tossed Raiden in a cell, she’d listened. More importantly, she’d believed.

  The decision to sneak into Dawnskeep had been an impulsive one, but one he deemed necessary. On their flight out of Terros the rumors had been as thick as blood, spreading and changing with every telling. It quickly became evident that the people were divided, with many still believing in the Verinai’s efforts to protect the king. By the time they had reached the refuge, Raiden had seen the truth, they could not remain free if the people turned against the Defiant.

  Jester finished his description of his love and Raiden shook himself, forcing his thoughts to return to caution. Jester seemed to understand the moment of levity had passed and straightened in his saddle. The sun had set as they spoke and the countryside had plunged into darkness. Dawnskeep glowed in the distance, rising like a lighthouse to the kingdoms.

  “What now?” Jester asked. “We may have an ally, but I don’t have the slightest idea how to use her.”

  Raiden considered his answer but none came. He wasn’t even certain he could call Alydian an ally. She’d believed his story and shielded him from Captain Devkin, but she’d made no mention of actually helping him. He frowned, wondering if he’d overstated Alydian’s support for their cause.

  “We wait,” he said. “I think we sparked a measure of curiosity in her that will continue to bear fruit, but we need to give her time to seek her own answers.”

  “We can’t just sit idle,” Jester said.

  “No. But we need to link up with Red. She should be back in the refuge any day now.”

  Jester nodded and they turned their horses off the road. Despite his faith in Alydian, Raiden kept his attention on their back trail, watching for patrols. Several times they were forced to work their way deeper into the hills to keep from being spotted by the abundant Verinai and Griffin patrols. But the real problem was the birds.

  The Verinai had begun sending lightcast birds into the starless night. They flew in a grid intended to survey every inch of the terrain. Huddled in a small stand of trees, Raiden soothed his mount with soft words as one such bird banked above them.

  When it departed, Raiden sighed in relief and mounted his horse. Jester did the same, and they eased their steeds out of the tree line. Just as they did, a rabbit burst into view, startling Raiden’s horse into a whinny. The sound echoed over the dark countryside, and in the distance the lightcast bird swerved back.

  Jester cursed under his breath. “It’s got a listening charm on it,” he said.

  “Back into the trees,” Raiden urged.

  They worked their way into the dense foliage, reining their mounts just as the hawk appeared over a hill. It soared to them, curving to fly around the trees. Evidently its caster was suspicious, because the bird continued to circle. Raiden and Jester exchanged a look and they eased their swords free, and donned their masks. In the distance they heard the bark of an order.

  Raiden realized they were coming and flicked the reins. His horse surged in response, leaping free of the trees just as the bird flew by. It tried to bank away from his sudden appearance it but was too close, and Raiden slashed across its wing. The glittering bird crumbled apart and died, plunging the trees into darkness. A shout rang out from its caster, close and urgent.

  “The bird only saw me,” Raiden hissed. “I’ll lead them away and meet you at the refuge.”

  Jester nodded, the motion barely visible in the shadows. “Don’t get caught,” he replied, and smirked. “You have a girl now.”

  Raiden snorted and stabbed a finger north. The assassin led his horse into the open and sheathed his sword. Then he removed his mask and guided his steed away. Raiden waited until lights bobbed behind a hill to the west. Then he turned south, aiming his path toward the elven kingdom. If he could reach one of their cities he could hide among the populace.

  He rode down a slope and up another, the rocky terrain preventing a full gallop. His horse was good, but it could still break a leg in an unseen hole. Above them a glimmer of light appeared, followed by another. The birds remained high but angled for him, clearly following his path.

  The lightcast birds were shades of red, indicating they had been cast at sunset. Without a source of light, the Verinai would not be able to cast another bird before dawn, but that wouldn’t matter if Raiden could not kill the ones already following him. A third bird appeared above him, and a fourth. Raiden scowled and risked picking up the pace.

  The land east of Dawnskeep was barren and rough, the terrain marked by rolling hills and outcroppings of rock. Scattered trees afforded few places to hide, and Raiden doubted any refuge would endure more than a few hours.

  He glanced up and spotted one of the birds turning away and swinging east, likely to inform another patrol of their quarry. The lack of urgency suggested they did not realize who they had caught, and perhaps thought he was merely a bandit that had gotten lucky enough to kill the lightcast bird.

  He considered discarding his mask, but if it was found his identity would forever be known. If he got caught with the mask, however, they would learn the truth anyway. His only choice lay in escape, as the Soldier.

  Dawnskeep and Horizon were visible in the west, the tower’s light shining bright despite the lateness of the hour. Instinctively Raiden knew he could not survive if he turned to it. The birds would follow him there, and he would be trapped between his Verinai pursuers and the Runeguard.

  He kept his pace even, his path due south. The hours slipped by and it seemed his trackers were in no rush to reach him. Other light birds appeared, and the growing flock indicated that other trackers had joined the hunt. They had him hemmed in, but they seemed content to wait until dawn to close the net.

  Midnight came and went, and Raiden kept his pace unhurried until the first glimmerings of dawn touched the horizon. He was still half a day’s ride from the nearest elven city, but once the sun came up the birds would spot him, and their casters would realize exactly who they were following. He lifted the mask and rubbed his eyes against his mounting fatigue, and drank from his water skin.

  Raiden kept his head down as the sun touched the horizon, his skin crawling as he listened for the impending recognition. The minutes dragged by as the birds swirled closer, and then suddenly one shrieked, the sound shattering the still morning. Raiden yanked on the reins to point his horse toward the elven city and shouted, sending the horse surging across the hills. In seconds the shouts echoed in his wake, and the legion of soldiers flooded after him.

  Chapter 24: Death of the Soldier

  Raiden accelerated into a gallop and hoped his horse wouldn’t stumble. They streaked across the hills, rising and falling with the terrain as rocks gave way to scattered trees and streams. The birds gathered above and hundreds of soldiers appeared in his wake. Some of the birds soared past him, clearly aiming for Rualia, the northernmost city of the elven kingdom. Once the birds informed the Verinai in the city, he would be
trapped.

  He scowled but did not deviate from his course. His only hope lay in breaching the elven city before they caught up to him. With time against him, he maintained the gallop even when the trees began to thicken, and turned his mount onto a smaller road.

  Lightcast birds flitted through the canopy as the Verinai tightened the net. As he neared the city he spotted soldiers just hundreds of feet away and knew it was time. He passed under a thicker canopy that briefly obscured his view of the sky. On impulse he slowed his horse and leapt off, rolling when he hit the ground. Rising into a run, he sprinted in a different direction.

  The horse continued to follow the road, the sounds of its galloping hooves fading as Raiden wove his way through the trees. Elves were not known for endurance, but he’d trained extensively in his first century. Still, he managed his fatigue, setting a pace he could maintain. Then he crested a rise and the elven city of Rualia came into view.

  Five hundred foot trees supported the city, their great branches as thick as a wagon. Homes, taverns, and inns lay nestled in the limbs, their walls formed from woven branches. More limbs shaped terraces and balconies that overlooked the forest floor, and lights from thousands of light orbs and entities illuminated the treetop city. The nature of the structures gave the city its name, the Living City.

  Instead of walls, the city used open air as a defense. The bottom level of the city was a hundred feet off the ground, and the great trees that supported the city were completely smooth, with nary a branch, window, or platform. Battlements surrounded the trunks at the lowest level of the Living City and connected to neighboring trunks, forming an interconnected barrier that elves patrolled.

  Some of the greater limbs bent to the earth, the boughs flattened to allow passage for horses and wagons. The entrance limbs curved in graceful spirals until merging with the lower cityscape. Larger caravans utilized the wide limbs for passage, while travelers on foot usually opted for the elven ascenders, branches enchanted to lift small groups of people into the city.

  Inverted wells provided water and beauty to the city, the sparkling columns gracefully bending and twisting through the wondrous treeways. Defying the pull of earth, the water coursed upward, forming streams that gurgled up branches and through buildings, feeding fountains imbued with light.

  Raiden stopped to catch his breath and scanned the slope below. His reckless separation from his mount had momentarily confused his pursuers, but the birds would find him in seconds. Again he considered removing his mask, but if he was spotted doing so the Soldier would be dead in days, even if they didn’t catch him now. But if he didn’t shed his persona, the moment he stepped into public the Verinai would find him and cut him apart. He needed a place to switch to himself, somewhere private.

  As the birds circled closer, Raiden spotted a merchant caravan making its way up the road toward an entrance limb. Squat and long, the central wagon contained a collection of small barrels. More than a dozen dwarves guarded the wagon, their postures relaxed as they wound their way toward the city. Although the script on the barrels was not visible, there was only one thing the dwarves transported in barrels that size.

  Stonesap.

  Explosive and only handled safely by dwarves, the volatile liquid fueled dwarven machines across Lumineia. Likely destined for a dwarven smith in Rualia, the liquid was sufficient to last several years.

  Raiden scanned the road ahead of the wagon and spotted a shallow bridge in its path. The bridge crossed a stream that gurgled its way into an inverted well. Its proximity to the city would suit his needs, but was a dangerous opportunity.

  Raiden growled at the risk and stepped out of his hide before sprinting to the wagon, his appearance eliciting shrieks from the birds above. They converged on his location, some diving for him.

  He spun and drew his sword, whipping it through a pair of birds. The blade sliced their bodies, shredding the magic and sending bits of light into the brush at his side. One lightcast bird dived for his eyes, but he reached up and caught the falcon by the neck and held on, ignoring its furious attempts to escape.

  A score of soldiers appeared on the road behind the dwarven wagon and spotted him. Shouting, they surged into a charge. In the city beyond, another group of Verinai battlemages sprinted down the road, shoving their way through the crowd.

  Still more appeared to the north, and then the south. With the net tightening like a noose, Raiden pushed his body to the limit, arriving at the dwarven caravan only moments before the Verinai. Confused by his charge, the dwarves shifted into a protective stance, their shields overlapping into a single barrier.

  “Oi!” the caravan leader shouted. “What ye be on about?”

  Raiden reached the shield wall and stepped on it, using it to leap over the dwarves. They cried out in surprise but he’d already landed on the back of the wagon. Darting over the barrels, he kicked the driver in the helm, sending him tumbling into the road below. With dwarves rushing to stop him he snatched the reins and whipped the horses.

  The animals lunged against their restraints and the wagon bounced forward, the barrels clattering against the padding placed about them. Dwarves shouted and leapt in pursuit. Crossbow bolts streaked around Raiden and he ducked low on the seat. Then one of the dwarves gathered fire in his hands.

  “Don’t be a fool!” the caravan leader shouted, knocking him to the dirt. “Do ye wish to kill us all?”

  Raiden pushed the horses as fast as he dared and other travelers scrambled off the road. Shouts and screams erupted from the crowd. The lightcast bird continued to flap in Raiden’s hand and he slammed it on the bench. Drawing a knife, he plunged it through a wing and into the wood, pinning the enchanted bird to the driver’s bench.

  Soldiers swarmed towards him from all sides. Those descending from Rualia formed ranks and cast their magic, the earth rising to form a wall of stone. The sides of the road were already bound by stone, leaving Raiden trapped. He yanked on the reins, the horses bringing the wagon to a halt above the bridge. The soldiers from behind were quick to surround him, but kept their distance.

  In a testament to how much they had come to fear him, the host of Verinai remained on the line and glanced about, clearly uncertain of how to proceed. The magicless and single mages also appeared conflicted, their expressions shifting between the Verinai and the Soldier.

  “Soldier,” a voice said, and Raiden looked down at the bird. It had gone still, the voice coming from its castor.

  “Mineva,” Raiden said, his voice laced with hatred. “Does the elven queen know a murderer hides in her realm?”

  Through the enchantment of the bird, Mineva laughed scornfully. “I was traveling to Verisith when I heard the news. The Soldier was being herded to Rualia. It was something I wanted to see for myself.”

  “Your arrogance will be your downfall,” he said.

  Her laugh was long and mocking. “Is a dragon’s arrogance folly? Or well deserved?”

  It was Raiden’s turn to laugh, and the sound caused the ring of soldiers to ready themselves for battle. Entities blossomed into view and blades were drawn. Raiden glanced about, measuring his foes.

  “Dragons may be mighty,” he said, “but their pride is the very poison that brings them down.”

  “The Verinai have more power than all the dragons,” Mineva said. “And nothing in Lumineia can bring us down.”

  “Except my blade to your heart,” he growled back.

  Raiden looked over the heads of the soldiers on the road and spotted Mineva among the crowd at the base of Rualia’s entrance. She stood with a trio of Verinai masters, her features triumphant. A crowd of merchants had formed behind her and they shifted uncertainly, torn between supporting the Soldier and condemning him.

  Moving slowly, Raiden rose and stepped onto the barrels. They had him trapped but the soldiers retreated, their eyes dropping to the Danger, Explosive Stonesap engraved on the sides of the barrels. Turning a wide circle, he raised his voice so it could be heard.

/>   “Do you not see what you have wrought?” he called. “The Verinai stand on the verge of destroying your queen yet you stand idle! Your kingdom will be no more, and the elven people will be enslaved to the Verinai! I represent the last vestige of freedom! The last bastion of hope! Will you now slay me, and silence the voice against oppression?”

  His voice boomed all the way to the city, where thousands of elves lined the streets and paths of the upper city. His challenge echoed into silence and the soldiers around the dwarven wagon cast about, confusion and doubt on their faces. Then Mineva called to them, her voice crisp and tinged with a smile.

  “A condemned man speaks his final words,” she said.

  She motioned to the side and a pair of lightcast birds plunged at the wagon’s bench, crashing through the horses’ bindings. Abruptly free, the horses whinnied in fear and bolted, leaving Raiden bereft of escape. Mineva’s smile widened.

  “Cut him to pieces and display his remains outside the city.”

  The Verinai drifted forward, but the bulk of the soldiers remained in place. Noticing this, the Verinai hesitated, and Mineva shouted to her Verinai.

  “Kill him, you fools! If the barren will not do it they do not deserve to be soldiers!”

  It was the first time a master in the Verinai had publicly called the magicless barren, and there was an audible gasp. Recognizing her mistake, Mineva forced a smile and gestured to Raiden.

  “The execution order must be upheld,” she cried. “He has murdered hundreds. Have you forgotten the blood on his hands?”

  The Verinai drifted forward once again but an elven soldier raised his sword. “Let the Verinai deal with their own enemy!”

  His voice elicited cries of agreement and the other soldiers nodded. The captain’s ploy was a desperate one. If he moved in to strike at Raiden—who stood over a pile of stonesap—he was just as likely to lose men as he was to take the Soldier. His choice to leave Raiden to the Verinai could be recognized as tacit support of his actions, or a captain allowing one of greater authority to apprehend the criminal. It was a dangerous tactic, and Raiden had no doubt he would be reprimanded for it.