Severed Empire: Wizard's Rise

by Phillip Tomasso

  “Sir Lanster,” one of the knights said. Obviously confused by the gathering.

  King Hermon faced Lanster. “Have your men dismount.”

  “Off your horses,” Lanster said.

  “Sir?” the knight said.

  “Down. Now,” Lanster said. His voice lacked its usual snap, but he was their commander, and they were compelled to comply. The riders dismounted.

  “Voyagers, take the extra horses. One extra man will ride with each of you.”

  One knight prepared to draw his sword. King Hermon pointed at the action. “Lanster?”

  “Stand down,” Lanster said.

  “But, our horses.”

  “We are commandeering your horses,” King Hermon said.

  “Who is this man that he thinks we follow his orders?” The knight pointed at Hermon.

  “This is the Mountain King,” Lanster said.

  “Treason!” the knight said.

  “Kill them,” King Hermon said.

  Lanster stood still.

  “Sorcerer!”

  Ida aimed her hands at Lanster, and his men. She twisted her hands left and right. Her fingers moved as if weighted marionette strings dangled from each fingertip.

  Lanster drew his sword. “They’ve given up their horses.”

  “Kill them,” King Hermon said.

  Ida winced, twisting her hands at the wrist. Bones snapped as her hands rotated all the way around.

  The knights defended themselves. Swords clashed. The sound of metal on metal rang hollow across the plains. Sparks arched off blades. The spilled blood covered dirt, blades of grass and tall weeds.

  Shortly, only a few men remained standing. That was unfortunate.

  “Ready your men, Lanster. Sebastian, we must sail to the Balefire River. That will bring us to the Constantine Realm,” he said. The Mountain King gritted his teeth at the thought of the wasted time, the lost resources. The wizards were not going to escape him.

  Chapter 38

  The only way across the Zenith Mountains, was up. The climb was complicated. The rock was cold, and icy in spots, making it difficult to maintain handholds. Ropes, spikes, and picks would have been useful, but unfortunately they didn’t have the gear. The wind whipped around them, as if sent to prevent interlopers from ascending its height. Gravity continually threatened to pull them down. They didn’t have ropes, and that made Mykal apprehensive. Odds were against them reaching the east whole.

  Mykal had Karyn climb above him. He wanted a chance at catching her if she fell. This was the only way he would at least be able to make an attempt. He assumed she knew his thoughts. It was in her eyes when she agreed, while telling him she’d never climbed a mountain before.

  “Neither have I,” he’d told her.

  It was slow going. Crossing the mountains would take several days, which presented obvious problems that, for the moment, Mykal chose to ignore.

  Karyn took inordinate amounts of time placing each foot- and handhold. He looked up, always up. Heights ate away at his confidence. If he convinced his mind he wasn’t scaling the face of a mountain, he could at least pretend to believe the lie as long as he didn’t look down. The key lies in ignoring the mantra he found himself repeating, “This is crazy. This is crazy. This crazy.”

  Mykal relied on the strength of his fingers and forearms from years of swinging a hammer repairing fences, and using a pitchfork to bale hay for the livestock to move him up the mountain.

  He needlessly worried about Blodwyn. Hours ago he feared his best friend was near death. He knew magic was powerful, or he was in the process of learning that truth t, but didn’t have complete confidence it could remove the poison from his system. It had, though. And now Blodwyn was climbing the side of the mountain as easily as if he were walking a trail through the woods. In fact, Blodwyn was near the summit.

  Galatia was not far behind. Her lithe body moved with ease, like a spider crawling up a wall. Her hands reached up, and no matter where they planted, they remained. She dug her toes into small crevices, used the sides of her feet when necessary, and lifted herself from one spot to the next farther along.

  “I’m not sure I can keep going,” Karyn said. The wind stole the sound of her voice and sent it sailing away.

  “What?” Mykal said.

  “I can’t do this!”

  “Yes, you can,” he said.

  “I can’t.”

  “There’s no turning around. Climbing down will be harder than going up,” he said.

  “I’m too tired,” she said. Her creeping process was completely halted. “I can’t.”

  “Climb,” Mykal said. “Don’t stop moving. Don’t stop now.”

  “Mykal,” she said. He heard the pain in her voice. Her strength was sapped.

  “Climb!” He shouted.

  She grunted, and groaned, but her right hand reached for another hold further up the mountainside. She fit her fingers into a lateral crack in rock. Her legs bounced up and down, and then she moved a little higher, her left hand finding a protrusion to grasp.

  “That’s it,” he said. “Keep going. Keep climbing!”

  Daylight had vanished by the time they finally reached a plateau.

  They were down to their last sips of water. They had been on the go for nearly twenty-four hours straight. They needed sleep. Mykal shook his arms, and kicked out his legs. The muscles were already tightening up. There had to be an easier way across.

  Karyn hugged herself, trembling.

  She needn’t say a word. Her anxiety was evident in the way she looked at him. He didn’t believe in lying. Things looked bad, and would likely get worse before they got better. If they ever got better.

  Blodwyn waved Mykal over. He leaned his weight on his staff. “I want to make sure you are okay,” he said.

  “My arms feel like rubber,” Mykal said.

  Blodwyn shook his head. “It’s not what I meant.”

  Mykal knew what his friend meant. “I knew it was a fight to the death, Wyn. I knew I might have to kill a man. When the fight was over, I mean clearly over, I figured it was done. I mean, it was their tribemate, their warrior. I was trying to spare his life.”

  “It’s their ways. The rules needed following. Denying them that is an insult,” Blodwyn explained.

  “I will never forget that moment.”

  “And you shouldn’t. Taking the life of another is never something you should forget. Or take lightly. It is often a terrible, horrible experience. I think when you used magic to grab the dagger it was overlooked, because another had thrown a blade into the ring. You evened the odds. Otherwise, I don’t think they would have let us leave.”

  They stood in silence.

  “Wyn? Have you ever killed anyone before?”

  His expression tightened, jaw set. “I have had to defend myself a time or two.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Blodwyn sighed as he shook his head. “That is a yes. I think about the lives I’ve taken every day. There is not a night I don’t dream about them. They will haunt me forever.”

  “I will dream of that warrior?”

  “You may. There is no guilt in not dreaming of him. I hope that he stays out of your dreams. You’ve suffered enough,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Mykal,” Blodwyn said. “This is not over. I fear many more lives will be taken before this ends.”

  “We’re really on the brink of a war, aren’t we?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Blodwyn said. “I am afraid so.”

  ***

  “Galatia,” Mykal said, talking as quietly as possible. “We need food. Have you any magic than can help us?”

  She offered up a thin smile, and then closed her eyes. Her arms rose in the air. When she spoke, the words were harsh, gravelly. Her fingers wiggled toward the sky. She let her head roll around on her neck, slow, and easy.

  Mykal felt the charge spark inside him. “Quill,” he said. “Ready your bow.”

  Quill
didn’t hesitate. He retrieved the bow and nocked an arrow. Setting one boot on a rock, he trained the arrowhead at the sky.

  Black lines glowed behind Mykal’s eyes. They seemed taut, and then vibrated as if strummed by an unseen hand. There was no sound though. Then the vibrations slowed. No. That wasn’t accurate. They still quivered, but suddenly the movement played out in slow motion. Mykal saw clearly the trailing image of each moving strand.

  The caw of ravens was followed by the sound of many wings flapping. A flock of birds flew from the shallow valley toward where they stood.

  Mykal watched Quill, waiting for him to lose an arrow. “What are you waiting for? Are they too fast to hit?”

  Quill lowered the bow some, and cocked an eyebrow at his nephew. “How do you suppose we retrieve them once I shoot them from the air?”

  “Turn around. Face the mountain. Everyone, move aside.”

  Quill did as instructed.

  Mykal pointed at the birds, and with a fast motion, pointed toward the mountain. The ravens followed where he led them with his finger, as if chasing down prey. Quill, without hesitation, loosed arrow after arrow. The large black birds plummeted to the plateau.

  “Looks like we’ll break fast together tonight,” Quill said.

  “We’ll get sick,” Blodwyn said. “You can’t eat bird raw.”

  Mykal looked around, checking the limited expanse of the plateau. There were no twigs, no grass. The only thing he saw were rocks that must have tumbled down from the peaks over the years. He picked one up, then another.

  When Mykal set the stones together on the ground in a circle, Quill stood with his arms crossed, laughing. “This is where farmers miss out. School might not be for everyone, but you would not have passed basic sciences.”

  Mykal snapped his finger. The rocks caught fire. The first few attempts caused rocks to crack. One exploded. Quill laughed, unimpressed. Mykal didn’t give up. Eventually, he got the amount of magic needed correct. The flame burned on the rock perfectly. Mykal winked at his uncle, and didn’t bother masking his half smile.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Quill dropped his arms to his side.

  While the birds cooked over the fire, Quill removed the arrows from his and Anthony’s quivers and then climbed further up the mountain.

  “Where is he going?” Karyn asked.

  Mykal shook his head. He had no idea.

  When Quill returned, the leather and suede quivers were over his shoulder. Both stuffed full of something. He dropped off the face the last few feet, and clapped his hands together, smiling. He removed the bags and set them near the fire. “Collected some snow. We need more water.”

  Mykal smirked, and offered over a two finger salute. “Well done, uncle.”

  Galatia stood off to the side, alone. Her arms were straight at her side, and she watched everyone else interacting. Mykal walked over and stood beside her.

  “You did a really amazing thing with the Ravens. I know I am speaking for everyone when I say, thank you,” Mykal said. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I have a confession,” she said.

  “A confession?”

  “I have never been a powerful wizard. My magic, for whatever reason, has always been limited. It was partly why I tried saving the king’s son centuries ago. I had something to prove to myself. I also wanted the fame, the recognition. What happened instead was worse than I could have ever imagined. I am responsible for the wars against wizards. I might as well have committed the countless deaths and executions.

  “And I’ve always known it. I never wanted to believe, but I’ve always known it. It’s kind of funny really, because once again, I was kidding myself. I saw you, this young boy, this new wizard, and I thought ‘I’m going to mentor him. I’m going to train this kid in the ways of magic.’ Not for you, not to benefit you. For me.” She jabbed a finger into her chest. “Another shot at proving I’m worth something. Then I see you, I see what you can do. . .without any training?” She laughed, as if amazed. “I see your immense power, and I am in awe. I am humiliated because I’m disappointed in myself, and I’m in complete awe of you.”

  She was crying.

  Mykal placed a hand on her arm. When she hugged him, her tears hot and wet on his neck, he wrapped his arms around her. His spoke softly, so that only she would hear his words. He knew the others were aware that something was taking place, but no one looked directly at them. Except Karyn. She seemed concerned. He tried to tell her with his eyes, and a very slight shake of his head, don’t worry.

  Ravens are large birds, but with very little meat. After plucking away as many feathers as possible, it made dining that much less challenging. Everyone was so hungry, the extra effort didn’t stop them, and no one complained.

  While they ate, Mykal was tempted to ask Blodwyn to share a story, specifically how he learned to speak the Caver language. He was more than curious. The last week left him feeling off balance. Everything he thought he knew about Blodwyn, his parents, and himself, had been, at least partially, wrong.

  He’d been misinformed, not given the whole story.

  Though some might feel angry about these revelations, he did not. He was just curious now, and perhaps a little desperate for answers.

  He refrained from asking when he saw Karyn fall asleep sitting on her rock by the fire. A half-eaten raven—her second—dangled loosely from her fingertips.

  “We should get some sleep,” Mykal said.

  Blodwyn nodded. “He’s right.”

  The temperature dropped drastically after the sun set. They huddled close around the fire. The combined body heat between them helped. Karyn snuggled back against Mykal.

  “Please hug me,” she stirred enough to mumble. “I’m so cold.”

  Chapter 39

  Crossing the Zenith Mountains took four days. The cold nights, and windy days made the trek brutal. They did find sections where they were able to skirt around, rather than having to scale further up the mountain side. The paths were narrow. Rocks were loose. Footing was treacherous, but it was faster. Mykal felt like unless he used magic his blood and bones would never again warm.

  When at last they descended the eastern side of the last mountain, they saw salvation. Sanctuary. The rising sun lit the sky. In the distance Mykal saw Castle Deep. It seemed close, reachable, but would still be a two-day walk. He didn’t look forward to it. His entire body ached, his thighs chaffed.

  When they reached the foothills, mammoth peaks behind them, the plush forest, and green trees offered protection against the wind, the temperature had risen gradually as he elevation lowered. Mykal’s sore feet suddenly felt wonderful walking on soft ground, and cushioning grass. The sharp rock, and walking carefully along narrow passes, was behind them. The palms of his hands were scraped raw. The further away from the mountain they walked, the more he looked back in disbelief.

  We crossed Zenith. Never had he imagined he’d be where he was. If only the circumstances were different.

  “Have you felt it?” Galatia said, walking beside him.

  “Felt what?”

  “The magic. Not now. Not today, but back when we were in the cave, and then again climbing the mountain the first day.”

  “When you called the ravens?” Mykal said.

  “No. Not my magic,” she said.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Mykal could not pull his eyes from Castle Deep. It sat on top of a hill, stone wall encircling the ruined marketplace of the keep. It was much smaller than Grey Ashland, as best he could tell from this distance.

  “When I use magic, do you know it? Can you feel it?”

  “I sense it. And then, it is like I tap into what you are doing. I see it like moving colors in my mind.”

  “Remember I told you that I sensed magic being used? It was why I came out of hiding, to find out what was happening. The others must not be hiding anywhere near. Even so, I’d bet they’re aware of the sorcery used recently. I’m sure of it. When we summon them, I don’t think it wil
l be a surprise,” she said. “But the one I sensed before, she has been using magic. As much as we have been. You don’t sense her?”

  “I think I only sense when you are using magic, because I am right there watching you. I might not sense it at all. Can you teach me how?” he said.

  Her smile was thin, as though she thought he was asking for help out of pity.

  “You said when you see me use magic, you tap into it, you see it as colors inside your mind?”

  “Exactly.”

  “The way you do that, tap into my magic? You need to leave those senses open, even when sleeping. It’s like leaving one eye open even while you sleep,” she said.

  “I don’t know how to do that.”

  “Pretend you think I am doing magic right now. Okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Now, what would you do?”

  “But you’re not doing magic.”

  She laughed, and flippantly waved her arms about. “Pretend I am.”

  Mykal closed his eyes.

  He felt it then. He saw it. It was the first time. Two strands of brilliant blue snaked from his mind. “Whoa. I think, I did it. I tried sensing it.”

  “And are you still trying?”

  He closed his eyes. The blue strands were gone. “No.”

  “Do it again, reach out, but never stop. It will become as natural as breathing. It takes practice though, discipline. Do it now,” she said.

  He closed his eyes.

  Blue strands swirled. After a moment, he opened his eyes. He looked at the castle, and then at Galatia.

  “Well?” she said.

  He held up a finger, and closed his eyes. The strands were still there, still searching. “It works. I’m doing it. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. However, when we have some time, I would appreciate spending time with you. Maybe we could show each other what we know and build our abilities together?”

  “I like that idea.”

  “Beyond the castle, there is an ancient library. It is where I planned to go after we have the chalice. It would be the perfect place for summoning the other wizards. There are more books on magic inside that building than anywhere else, collectively. We can spend some time researching, and practicing.”