by V. St. Clair
They inched forward, taking cover behind trees and staying low to the ground. At first they didn’t see any sign of human habitation other than the torches behind them, but after a few minutes the forest changed on them again and they were able to spot the remnants of campfires dotted around the clearings.
A snake that was large enough to eat Tamon’s boa constrictor brushed Hayden’s legs as it slithered past, nearly causing him to cry out in alarm. He determinedly clamped his jaws shut and tried to ignore the sensation of a giant snake sliding over his feet, wondering what would happen if it decided to turn around and eat him. Thankfully he didn’t have to find out, as the snake seemed completely uninterested in the pair of humans hiding in the woods and slithered away.
Sound tended to project weirdly within the Forest of Illusions, probably because of the way the landscape kept shifting on them, which was why Hayden didn’t hear the sorcerers until they were practically on top of them. He and Oliver came to an abrupt halt, crunching the leaves beneath their feet so loudly that the sorcerers up ahead stopped talking.
The two of them remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, waiting to see if they would be discovered. The voices switched to hushed tones, though it was impossible to tell what they were saying since Hayden didn’t speak the language of the northern continent and it all sounded like garbled gibberish to him.
This is stupid…this is really stupid…we should get out while we can…
They heard movement in the bushes, and Hayden slid to the left, creeping around the side of a tree to keep himself out of sight. Unfortunately this also meant that he couldn’t see Oliver anymore, but he had to trust the older boy to take care of himself. Hayden was able to see the group of sorcerers with their backs to him now: there were four of them, three men and a woman, all dressed in practical leather clothing for a fight, though they looked to be sweating and uncomfortable. They all had tan or coppery skin, and the woman had four different piercings in each of her ears.
Two of the men held out wands as they crept around the trees, searching for the source of noise, while the others appeared unarmed. Hayden remained silent until he heard the sorcerers resume their conversation at normal speaking volume, apparently deciding that the noises they heard had come from an animal of some kind. They turned and began walking away, heading deeper into the forest.
As quietly as possible, Hayden crept back around the trees that sheltered him and found Oliver. They had a silent debate over whether to follow their quarries or not, pantomiming their thoughts as best they could. They eventually decided to stick with their original mission and remain in the Forest of Illusions a while longer. Since it seemed like the best way to find where the surviving mages were at, they began tailing the group of sorcerers at a distance, taking care to watch their footsteps to avoid making unnecessary noise.
They were so focused on what was in front of them that they didn’t even notice the sorcerer that walked past them from behind until it was too late. A shout went up that alerted the ones they were following, and suddenly Hayden and Oliver found themselves facing five enemies at once.
Hayden tried to cast a stunning spell as he dove behind a shrub for cover, but it glanced harmlessly off of the sorcerer it hit without even slowing him down.
Curse the stupid magic-dampening here!
He heard Oliver give a strangled yell, followed by a meaty smacking noise, and when Hayden peered around the hedge he saw that his companion had landed a blow against one of the sorcerers with his fist, abandoning all pretense at magic. Two of the sorcerers were coming for Hayden, while the other three attacked Oliver, clearly judging him to be the bigger threat.
Hayden saw one of his attackers lower a strange pair of glasses over his eyes and take aim at him, and he reflexively rolled out of the way, scraping his arms and legs on the brambles and springing to his feet as the shrub burst into flames in front of him. He drew one of his mastery-level wands and cast Obscure, hoping to hide from his foes, and it seemed to work well enough to confuse them for a moment while he switched weapons and tried for something more lethal.
Bonk, this would be a really good time for you to show up and save us…
But there was no sign of his familiar, and this was hardly the time to go searching for him. Hayden tried a stopping spell so powerful that it should have stopped the sorcerer’s heart on the spot, but with barely a twitch his enemy continued forward, tossing some dried leaves from a pouch on his belt into the air and blowing into them. Hayden barely had time to wonder what in the world the man was doing before the wind seemed to slam into him with gale-force, knocking him back through the air until he slammed against a yellow oak so hard that his joints popped.
They obviously aren’t having a problem using their magic here…
He was beginning to understand how such powerful mages as the Council and the Masters of Mizzenwald could come here and lose.
Ears ringing, Hayden leaned over on his hands and knees and gasped for air, trying to make his lungs work so that he could get up and continue fighting. He knew that he was leaving himself vulnerable, but his head was spinning as his chest heaved, and he couldn’t stand up to save his life right now. Dimly he could hear Oliver shouting from somewhere nearby, and by the looks of things he had managed to knock one of the sorcerers out cold without using a lick of magic. Unfortunately, the other two had him bound with rope at the hands and feet, his wrists pulled behind his back so that he had no hope of escape, while they threw him to the ground face-first and jeered at him in their native language.
Oliver hit the ground with a thud and his nose began to bleed, but he still had the gumption to roll onto his side and curse up at his captors, who sneered and kicked him once or twice for good measure.
One of Hayden’s assailants grabbed him roughly by the hair and pulled him to his feet, and Hayden cried out in pain and reflexively lashed out with his hands, punching the woman in the gut and knocking the wind from her so that she almost released him. Instead she shouted something at him and backhanded him across the face so hard that his ears began ringing from the impact.
She raised her hand to smack him again, and Hayden instinctively brought up his own hands to cover his face, tensing for the blow.
The woman released him abruptly and took a few hurried steps away from him, calling out to her friends in the rapid language of the north. Confused, Hayden lowered his hands and looked out to see four sorcerers staring at him with a mixture of uncertainty, awe, and…fear?
He had absolutely no idea why five grown adults with fully-functioning magic would be afraid of him, until he saw them pointing to his hands and jabbering on in their native tongue, obviously having some kind of debate.
The siglas…I forgot I had them on my hands…
Hayden glanced at Oliver, bound on the ground and bleeding, but somehow still managing to look arrogant.
Time to find out if I’ve claimed alliance with one of their friends or rival clans…
One of the men stepped forward at last, a dark-skinned sorcerer with thick muscles and long, braided hair. He was holding his hands in front of him in a placating gesture, as though trying to calm a frightened animal, and he said something very slowly to Hayden in his native tongue.
“I don’t understand you,” Hayden replied in the common tongue of the southern continent. “I don’t speak your language,” he tried again.
The man pursed his lips and turned back to his colleagues, one of which took off running back into the woods.
Probably gone to get reinforcements, Hayden sighed to himself, though why reinforcements would be necessary when they clearly had the advantage was beyond him.
The sorcerer closest to him was still holding out his hands tentatively, and Hayden saw that he had siglas on them that were much less ornate than his; a ‘T’ inscribed within a square with a few flourishing marks added onto it. The man held up his index finger on one hand as though gesturing for Hayden to wait patiently.
; Since he wasn’t really sure what else to do, Hayden waited, using the time to collect his thoughts.
Well, they haven’t killed me on sight…that must be a good thing.
His heart was beating so hard that he thought he might rupture a blood vessel, but he tried to remember what Oliver told him about acting like he was from a Great House. Looking timid and confused wasn’t going to win him any points with these people; he needed to be confident…he needed to be like a Trout.
He tried to channel every self-entitled, arrogant thought he could conjure up while his mind raced with possibilities for escape.
This was the stupidest idea ever. Without magic, we don’t stand a chance. We need to find a way out of here and go warn every mage we can find so they don’t wander into this deathtrap too.
Escape had to be their priority now that they knew what they were up against, or mages from across the Nine Lands would keep throwing themselves into the Forest of Illusions to get slaughtered until there was no one left.
Finally they heard the sounds of people returning to their clearing, and Hayden schooled his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression and waited patiently. The sorcerer who had run off earlier was back, and with him was another of his fellows who was obviously higher-ranking than the group here. The newcomer was at least six-and-a-half feet tall and built like he worked with his hands for a living, with thick, ropy muscles and a deep tan. The siglas on the back of his hands were more elaborate as well, a ‘D’ surrounded in teardrop-shaped flourishes of varying sizes. He wore the same generic leather clothing as the others, but also had sky-blue armbands at his elbows and shoulders that must have denoted some kind of rank.
“What your name, boy?” he spoke in broken common, his accent so thick that it took Hayden a moment to realize that he was speaking a language he knew.
“My name is Hayden,” he replied evenly, deciding on the spot that he wouldn’t mention his surname until he knew how the sorcerers felt about the Dark Prism these days. “This is Oliver.” He gestured to where Oliver was still struggling against the ropes that bound him on the ground. “What’s your name?”
The sorcerer looked between them and said, “Me is Mikesh. You show me hands.” He lifted his own, siglas facing out, in demonstration.
Hayden copied the gesture. Mikesh frowned thoughtfully and took a step closer, keeping his own hands held in front of him as a sign that he wasn’t planning to attack—or at least that’s what Hayden hoped it meant.
“I need look at siglas,” Mikesh explained, gesturing for Hayden to take his hand. Not seeing a way to avoid it, Hayden allowed the sorcerer to take hold of him and examine the markings on his hands.
Mikesh turned his wrist in different directions, as though trying to find a good angle of light to detect a forgery. Then he rubbed vigorously at the markings with his thumb, no doubt trying to determine if they were drawn on and would smear, but they remained intact. Frowning even more deeply now, Mikesh released his hand and took a step backwards.
“Are real,” was all he said, before switching back to his native tongue and probably confirming the same thing to his peers, who looked flabbergasted and horrified.
“Yes, they’re real,” Hayden agreed, sounding much calmer than he felt. “I’m going to untie my friend now,” he motioned towards Oliver, wondering if the sorcerers were afraid enough to let him call the shots.
Mikesh eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, you untie other, then we go. You put weapons away now.”
Hayden tried to hide his surprise at being allowed to untie Oliver and to keep his magical instruments on him, useless though they were right now. He didn’t bother asking where they were going to take him, since it would do nothing but make him sound worried.
I’ll find out soon enough anyway…
Slowly, Hayden lifted the eyepiece away from his right eye, angling the violet prism straight up into the air as it perched on top of his head. He tucked the wand back into his belt and then approached Oliver, kneeling down to help untie him.
“What in the world are you playing at, Frost?” the older boy hissed quietly at him.
“I have no idea, but they aren’t killing us yet, so they must know whose sigla I’m wearing. Maybe I can convince them to let us go, after they’re done taking us wherever we’re going…”
Oliver scowled but clearly had no better ideas, sitting upright and rubbing his bruised wrists once his hands were free. He blotted gently at his nosebleed to confirm that it had stopped, ignoring the crust of blood on his face. Hayden helped him to his feet and turned back to the sorcerers.
“You have no siglas?” Mikesh asked Oliver, eyeing his hands.
“No,” Oliver replied, dusting off his pants and taking in the surroundings with mild distaste, as though the décor wasn’t to his liking.
“You both come now.” Mikesh waved them forward, and because they didn’t have much choice, Hayden followed the sorcerer as he set off back the way he’d come from. He could hear Oliver walking just behind him, and the other four sorcerers fell in a little way back, preventing them from running away. The fifth was still out cold from when Oliver attacked him.
They walked in silence past the clearing and back into the wooded area, winding their way around beaten trails that looked like they’d been well-trod in recent weeks. A few magical creatures peered down at them from the safety of the treetops, and Hayden could have sworn he saw a three-toed sloth wink at him at one point, but then they reached another clearing, much larger this time.
Tents and lean-tos had been erected all over the place, obviously made in haste as they were of poor construction. Hayden could see where a few trees had been cut down in order to supply the wood for them, and wondered whether it was safe to sleep in a place built from magical trees. There were more campfires now, most of them with spits rotating over them, and the smell of meat made Hayden’s stomach growl hungrily. It felt like a long time ago that he and Oliver had finished off the last of their food, though day and night were hard to judge inside the Forest of Illusions.
They walked past a blue crystal the size of a cabbage, floating a few inches above the ground and being given a wide berth by the sorcerers and their campfires. Hayden had no idea what the purpose of the blue crystal was; it didn’t seem to be doing anything, and he felt no magic radiating off of it. He decided not to ask, in case it should be common knowledge and made the sorcerers suspicious.
Oliver was also giving the crystal a strange look, like he had read about it once but couldn’t remember where. He also resisted the urge to inquire after it, continuing to wordlessly follow Mikesh through the campsite.
More sorcerers stopped what they were doing to look at them as they walked past, most of them talking quietly to their friends behind raised hands, though some of them remained silent and simply stared at Hayden’s siglas.
They seemed to be headed towards a hillock that looked very out of place in the middle of the woods, almost certainly man-made. It rose up high enough to see over top of all the other huts and lean-tos, with a large tented structure at the apex. In the distance, on the other side of the hillock, Hayden could make out what looked like a lot of metal cages dotted throughout the clearing, some of them lined up in neat rows while others were scattered pell-mell around the campsites. He was too far away to see what was inside of them, even squinting, and soon the hillock was blocking his view completely.
A dirt path had been carved out of the side of the hill, bordered by torches on either side to form a walkway, and they followed Mikesh as he walked up it. They passed two sorcerers that were armed to the teeth with knives, crossbows, and an array of magical weaponry, who seemed to be standing sentinel along the path.
Mikesh stopped them long enough to talk to the sentries, probably telling them why he was bringing two foreigners up the hill with him. The guards gestured to Hayden and Oliver’s belts full of weapons, as well as the backpacks they still carried, their meaning obvious: why are
these two enemies still armed?
Mikesh said something else to them and they eyed Hayden’s hands with genuine surprise, whispering hurriedly between themselves before waving them on. Hayden was beginning to grow concerned at everyone else’s behavior. They were either leaving him and Oliver armed because they thought there was no threat of attack (probably true), or else because they were terrified of whoever’s sigla Hayden was wearing and didn’t want to offend him by forcing him to remove his weapons.
If he was friends with my father, then it’s no wonder even other sorcerers are terrified of this ‘M’ guy.
They reached the top of the hill and passed a few more guards who made no effort to impede their progress, and once the ground leveled out Hayden could appreciate just how large the tent they were approaching was—almost like a circus tent. In front of it was a pavilion with a large bonfire that was currently not lit, with a ring of stones around it that a few people were using as makeshift benches while they ate lunch.
Mikesh gestured for them to take seats on these stones.
“You wait here. I go inside and then come back.”
Hayden nodded to show that he understood, and he and Oliver sat down on the uncomfortable rocks, trying not to look any more out-of-place than they could help. There were only six or seven sorcerers up here with them—several of them wearing blue stripes like Mikesh—and most of them eyed the two southerners curiously before returning to their normal conversations.
“I wonder who’s in the tent,” Hayden said quietly to Oliver.
“No idea, but I’m sure we’re going to find out soon enough.” He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration and looked around at the sorcerers as though something didn’t add up. “Does it strike you as odd that we haven’t seen many sorcerers yet?”