Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise

by Phillip Tomasso

  Riders approached. There was no sneaking up on anyone in such open territory. He halted his small party. “We will wait for the king’s men. They clearly seem anxious about catching up to us, and we could use the horses.”

  Ida closed her eyes. Her hands went up in the air. She spoke in fast whispers, sounding like a snake hissing in warning as it lay below one’s feet, coiled to strike.

  King Hermon said, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, strands of white hair barely displaced by the violent movement. “Magic is in play.”

  “The woman, or the boy?” he said.

  “Both. I can read her power so clearly. It’s almost as if she doesn’t know how to guard herself, or cloak her magic. The colors dance like distinct strings inside my mind. Each thread glows bright, and crisp. They twist, knot, and vibrate,” Ida described. She spoke keeping her eyes closed, and hands up in concentration.

  Hermon was thankful, seeing that he could barely disguise his disgust. Could it be that she’d grown uglier since the beginning of the journey? Her odor even more ripe. Sweat from walking dried into her clothing, and billowed like smoke fanned from a fire. Breathing through his mouth somewhat masked the smell, but doing so left the rank taste on his tongue.

  He could not deny the envy he felt. He wished he could close his eyes and see the magnificent colors Ida described. He wanted to feel when others used magic around him. “And the boy?”

  She pursed her lips together tightly, lowering her head in further concentration. When she looked up at him, her eyes were open, but narrowed like knife slits through bloodless flesh. “The boy is hard to read. I know he is using magic. I sense it, but I am unable to see anything more. No colors, no definition.”

  “Is he purposely hiding his power?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “He’s strong then?”

  It appeared like she stopped herself from answering too quickly. There was a pause, as she chose her next words carefully. She said each one slow, and deliberate. “He is strong.”

  Hermon wondered if she feared the boy’s power, and perhaps, her position in his realm knowing his goal was to amass all of the magic in the old empire. Who sat on his right was not necessarily chiseled in stone. “And are they at the forest?”

  “Beyond it,” she said.

  King Hermon punched air. “Where, Ida? Where have they gone? We crossed that horrid sea to find them!”

  “I can only lock on a location when magic is used. If they don’t use magic, then I can only tell you where they’ve been. They are north, within the heart of the mountains.”

  The Cicade forest was shy on the horizon. They would reach the haunted woods before twilight. Ghosts didn’t scare him. It was time that spirits learned to fear him!

  Beyond, he saw a hint of Zenith’s snowy peaks. Without horses it would be days before they could close the distance between them. Docking so far south at the cove, they undershot the location. If he knew how long they’d be in the belly of the cave, or even. He would have come with horses if he’d be warned about traveling north before they left.

  “Ida, I want you to find out where they are going next,” he said. “I don’t want to know where they are. I want to know where they will be.”

  “I can only find them when they use their magic, your highness,” she said. The slur against his royalty seeped between clenched teeth.

  “Stay inside the woman wizard’s mind, find a corner inside her brain and hide there, an undetected cockroach in the darkness,” he said. The riders were close enough to count. Six horses. Nabal’s banners flapping as they rode.

  “I cannot make promises. There is no way of telling if such magic will work.”

  “Keep at it,” he said. Now was not the time for games, or power struggles. He needed compliance on all fronts. Advancement of the plan balanced on the ability to adapt, and follow direction. “Once we have caught up to them we will bring them in!”

  “The woman is simple. We gag her. Her voice is her magic. The power is in the words she speaks. I have just the thing for handling the boy. He is different from the woman, from myself. I look forward to snuffing out his magic,” Ida said.

  “There will be no ‘snuffing out his magic.’ I want him. Unharmed.”

  “As I warned you before, he is the most unpredictable in all of this. It may be best to simply kill him, and take the sorceress.” Ida waited for a reply. The king only stared at her. She said, “Of course, your highness. Unharmed. Of course.”

  The sorcerer did not trust him. Never had. She had good reason for suspicion. The part of his plan he kept hidden, excited him, although he closed his mind around the concept. He knew if he allowed himself the luxury of fully thinking it through, she might detect it. He needed her as an ally, not an enemy.

  “Once we deal with the riders, I want you to do nothing but work on entering her mind. You have but one task. Figure out where the wizards are going next. Do you hear me? We must get ahead of them, anticipate where they are headed. Chasing after their tail like geese behind their mother is unacceptable. Do not fail me in this request.”

  “Ready your weapons,” the Mountain King commanded. The handful of enchanted Voyagers grunted, and groaned wanting nothing else but to disobey, but took up their weapons, and flanked the king. Their growls might be meant for him, but the approaching knights wouldn’t notice the difference.

  Hermon stood front and center, watching Nabal’s knights arrive. The horse's hooves kicked up loose dirt as they almost skidded to a stop. The knights were shadowed by the swirling cloud, keeping their mounts still as they waited for it to settle.

  “We are knights of Grey Ashland. I am Sir Lanster, and speak on behalf of King Nabal. Is the ship docked in the cove yours?”

  “It is,” King Hermon said.

  “And the men on it are under your command?”

  “They are, now. . .”

  “And what business do you have in King Nabal’s domain?”

  “Your timing is impeccable. I find it marvelous that you’ve reached us in time,” The Mountain King grinned. His heartbeat increased with anticipation. It reminded him of dinnertime when he was young, after he’d spent the day in his chamber, punished and prevented from breaking fast in the morning and afternoon. Famished he’d sit at the table across from his father. Wordless he’d scarf down marinated meat like a ravenous wolf, and even eat all of his vegetables without complaint or criticism.

  Sir Lanster cocked his head to one side. “In time for what?”

  Hermon noticed Lanster didn’t make eye contact with him, but instead focused his attention on Ida. The knight feared her. He could see it in the man’s eyes. He kept his temper in check. Let them worry about her, and underestimate him. That was fine by the king.

  “We are in need of both your services, and your horses.” King Hermon scrubbed his hands together, as if waiting for the meal to be served. No. The ghosts inside the Cicade did not scare him in the least. He was going to become emperor over all of the land, every living soul, and haunting spirits. The time was close. He felt it as sure as he felt his tongue running over the front of his teeth.

  Chapter 35

  “We’re not alone?” Quill said.

  “What part of shh don’t you get?” Mykal stood in an open rock chamber. The red orb bounced above, rotating. “It’s nothing. I just thought I—I sensed someone.”

  “I’m stuck.”

  Mykal reached back into the crevice, latched onto Quill’s hand, and then tugged.

  “Again.”

  “I’m trying,” Mykal said. He pressed a foot against the rocks and pulled, leaning backward. Quill came free. Mykal fell back onto his rump, and grunted. Quill landed on top of him. “Well, this is awkward.”

  “You forget. You can see. I feel blind as a bat in here,” he said.

  “Bats can fly around just fine in the dark. I think they’d be offended if they heard you compare yourself to their species.”

  To Mykal’
s eyes, the room was cast in a red glow. It was not a large area, but nearly round. Perfectly round, in fact, as if the walls had been sculpted. There were three other crevices. Each must lead somewhere. He wasn’t at all curious as to where.

  “Where are we headed next?” Quill asked.

  Mykal described the room. “There is another opening directly across from where we just came. And then two at opposite ends opposite each other.”

  “Like points on a compass?” he said.

  “More perfectly aligned than you might imagine. The walls are smooth, round. So is the ceiling and floor,” Mykal said.

  “But you sensed someone?” he asked. He stood with his arms stretched in front of him, stepping slowly toward a wall. He pressed his palms against the rock. His eyes were opened wide, as if that might help him see.

  “I sensed something, not necessarily someone,” Mykal said. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Your mother was never really forthcoming about her. . .abilities, either. Your dad wasn’t too happy with what she could do. I don’t blame him. She is a good lady, your mother. Her, being what she is, though, kind of put everyone in jeopardy. The decree never expired. Folks’d be just as happy to turn in your mother as a sorcerer now, as they would have been hundreds of years ago,” Quill said.

  Mykal felt slighted. This Archer, his uncle, knew more about his parents than he did. It wasn’t right. It lit a small fire inside him. He knew he shouldn’t hold it against Quill; it wasn’t as though it was his fault, but that didn’t stop him from feeling jealous.

  “The dagger must be in this room, somewhere.” Mykal changed the subject abruptly.

  “What do you see?” Quill said. He made his way around the room. His hands slid up and down on the wall. “You’re so right about these walls. This isn’t natural. Rocks don’t rise from the ground this way.”

  “Rise from the ground?” Mykal wanted to ignore his uncle’s nonsensical talk. He said such odd things, though.

  “The mountains weren’t always here. They grew, over time. Just like trees, but over a greater span of time,” Quill said.

  “That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. Do you even listen to yourself when you talk? Mountains don’t grow. They’re rock. Not a living thing. A tree is alive,” Mykal said. Part of him suspected his uncle was just busting his chops on purpose, trying to goad him. And he had.

  “You’re right. Rock’s aren’t alive. Our world is though. Below the ground we stand on is a power more fearful than any thunderstorm, more dangerous than a blizzard, more relentless than a blazing fire,” Quill said.

  “Below us? We’re pretty far down, Quill,” he said.

  “We’re not far beneath the surface. I’m talking about deep, deep down, beyond even where the minor’s mine. They don’t even come close, and they’ve got tunnels going as deep as a mile into the earth,” Quill said. He had walked completely around the room, stopping at the crevice he started at. “When the world is angry, the ground shakes. Sometimes liquid fire shoots from mountain tops. And when these things happen, more and more rocks form.”

  Mykal stood in the center of the room. “Kids must love you, Quill. Your stories are very entertaining. You might not have noticed, but I am no longer a child. Now, please. Stay quiet while I search for the dagger.”

  “And you’re sure it is in this small room.”

  “The orb has not left.” Mykal looked up at it, at her. “Is it here?”

  “Are you asking me?” Quill said.

  “No. I’m not.” Mykal talked with his mind. Is it here? Can you point me to it?

  The orb gyrated faster, in a less concise manner. It wobbled, as if tilting left and right. It was a round orb. There was no way Mykal could tell if it tilted, and yet he knew it had. The orb dropped low, and hoovered an inch above the ground.

  Mykal got down on his knees. He brushed rock dust around. “There’s a circular indentation in the ground. It’s about as wide and as long as my hand. But I can’t get my fingers in the edges.”

  Quill shuffled forward. “Am I close?”

  “Follow my voice. Now, kneel down,” Mykal said.

  As he knelt down, his uncle held his arms out and patted Mykal on the top of his head, slid his dirty palms over his face, and tapped him on the shoulder.

  Mykal pushed his hands away. “You can stop. It’s me.”

  Quill snickered. “Here, let me use my knife to see if I can pry this open.”

  Quill edged the tip of the blade into the recess and ran it along the potential opening. He pushed against the hilt for leverage. “It’s not budging. I don’t want to snap the knife, either.”

  “Let me see it,” Mykal said. He held the blade up, and then slammed the hilt into the center of the circle.

  “Kid, what are you do—”

  The sound of rocks rubbing together filled the chamber.

  “Back up,” Mykal said.

  A cylindrical pillar of stone rose.

  “What is it?” Quill said.

  Mykal told him. “It’s inside a hole in a stone pillar.”

  “You can see it.”

  “I see it.” The artifact stood within a hollowed out portion of the rock. “Do I just reach in there and take it?”

  “Why are you asking me? Is there some dance, or mumbo jumbo you have to do first? What did you do when you snatched mirror out of the roots?” Quill asked.

  “No.” Mykal bent forward and walked around the pillar, the top of which reached his waist. The orb hovered on the opposite side of the opening, as if looking in at the dagger as well. “Thank you.”

  “What are you thanking me for?” Quill said.

  “Not you.”

  “Are we alone, or not, nephew?” Quill said.

  “We’re alone,” Mykal said. He reached his hand toward the dagger.

  “Then understand that when you speak, I can only assume that it’s me you’re talking to. That make sense?”

  His fingers gripped the hilt.

  “Perfect sense. You have my deepest apologies.” Mykal removed the dagger. The pillar hissed, and then lowered back into the ground.

  “You have it?” Quill said.

  “I have it.” He held it in both hands. In the red light, cast by the orb, it was difficult to tell if the dagger was indeed plated in gold. The blade was straight. He rubbed his thumb over the steel; it was sharp on each side. He removed his knife from the sheath, and replaced it with the dagger. He stuffed his knife through his belt. If he lost the old knife, it wouldn’t matter all too much. He couldn’t risk losing the talisman.

  “Good. Then let’s get out of here.”

  Mykal didn’t need to be prodded. He wanted out of the chamber out of the mountain at least as much as his uncle did. He went to the crevice, Quill following by resting a hand on his shoulder. The orb zoomed in close to his head, buzzed around and then went back into the chamber.

  “Wait,” Mykal said.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. He turned around and saw the orb over by the crevice at the north side of the chamber. “But that’s not the way we came in.”

  “What’s not?” Quill said.

  “Shh,” Mykal said. We didn’t come in that way.

  The orb fit through that particular crevice.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The orb is trying to get us to follow it. It wants us to go through one of the other openings,” he said.

  “Ask it why,” Quill said.

  “It doesn’t talk.”

  His uncle smiled. “But you talk to it?”

  He didn’t deserve an answer. Did the man forget he could see him? “Yes.”

  “How do you know if it even understands you?” Quill said.

  “She does,” Mykal said. “I think we should follow her.”

  “And I think we should go back the way we came. There’re people waiting for us. If we’re gone much longer they’re going to start worrying.” The words were thoughtful
. The tone of voice used was purely sarcastic.

  Mykal looked from Quill to the orb, and back. He wanted to get back to the others. The idea of going deeper into the caves unnerved him. The orb could be leading him to a pit of snakes, although he didn’t think so. “You go back; I want to see where she’s leading me. It could be important.”

  Quill set his hands against the wall and walked the room. He clapped a hand on Mykal’s face, the shoulder, and chest.

  “Stop that!” Mykal slapped his hand away.

  “I’m coming with you,” Quill said. “Imagine if I go back without you? Bloodywind will think I’ve killed you or something. I have little interest in scrapping with him. I’m just anxious to get out of this cave and, maybe, get some sleep.”

  Mykal ignored the mispronunciation of Wyn’s name, and instead focused on the thought of getting some decent rest. The idea appealed greatly. “Let’s just check it out fast, and get out of here.”

  “Lead the way,” Quill said.

  The orb went through the crevice first, Mykal next, and Quill following. It was a very tight squeeze at the onset, before the rock walls opened up some. Even s there was barely room to move. As they side-stepped through the narrow gap, Mykal asked, “Can you see that?”

  “The light?”

  “It’s firelight.”

  “I see it,” Quill whispered.

  The orb exited the crevice and vanished.

  “She’s gone.” Mykal stopped shuffling forward.

  “Who? Who’s gone?”

  “The orb. She’s gone.”

  “Forget this. I say we go back. We don’t know her. She could be leading us right into a trap.”

  Mykal said, “A trap? Like what?”

  “Cavers. Have you been listening to Ox, our guide?”

  Was he scared? “There aren’t any Cavers in these mountains, just like there aren’t any ghosts in your woods.”

  “There are ghosts in those woods, nephew. I just would say the entire forest is haunted,” Quill said.