by Dan Adams
‘You have obviously heard the reports that the Kyzantine Empire has declared war on the Murukan Kingdom and attacked all three passes.’
The King smiled. ‘You are always aware of what my scouts have informed me. Did you know that the Musea Pass has fallen and the Empire marches upon Gravid’s Drift? The Murukans hold the Gorgon Pass and Cerebus Valley is awash with blood.’
‘My messengers have told me similar tidings, your majesty.’
‘Does it feel good to be the one to set this in motion?’
Avernus tilted his head and looked to the empty space toward the ceiling. Lost in thought, his mind wondered back to that night. The tunnels were dark. He was exhausted after his gruelling battle for the amulet. The intersection was full of slaughtered bodies of the Kyzantines. The Prince impaled with a Murukan blade.
The King shifted on his throne, waited for the senior mage to regain his thoughts. ‘Avernus.’
‘Yes, your majesty?’
‘Care to share your thoughts?’
He paused. ‘The war is needed to distract the Murukans while we search for the artefacts to summon him. Only the magi can stop us, but once we have everything we can’t be stopped. We will bring the path of power back and dominate the other chapters. How I see it, the bloodshed is necessary.’
‘How long before you are ready to cast?’
‘I still have to collect two more artefacts, the Crystal of Ramatta and The Starjek Chronicle. Then I will be able to cast.’
‘And the Seraphim? Will they be ready?’
‘Will the army?’
‘You doubt my army will be ready?’
‘You think the same of my students?’
The King looked at the mage dubiously. ‘The army are assembled and are constantly in training. Conscripts have been called upon, every man and woman who is capable of wielding sword and shield will be ready to fight. I have ordered it under the pretence of precaution, in case our warring neighbours decide that one Kingdom is not enough.’
‘The Seraphim are growing stronger by the day, they train and their powers develop further and further. When he arrives their power will treble and they will be unstoppable.’
The King stood up from the throne and walked toward Avernus. The mage stood his ground, waited for the King to reveal his hand. The King walked with purpose across the ground between them, a look of determination flittered across his face. Avernus prepared to cast, his mind considering the possibilities of what would disable the King but not kill him. He was after all part of his plan.
The King walked up, smiled and put his arm around the mage, his shoulders loosened at the action and Avernus relaxed and put the incantation out of his mind.
‘Avernus, my dear friend, I just needed to make sure that everything would be ready. That is all. When the others come knocking on our borders I just wanted the most potent force ready to meet them.’
‘Rest assured your majesty, the enemy’s arrival will be met with an explosion of Tyrean might.’
‘Excellent. So where are you headed next?’
Avernus rolled his eyes as he thought about his next move. ‘It will have to be the Crystal of Ramatta. The book is in the Murukan Kingdom and any venture there will alert them of our activities. Until we are ready I have no wish to give them any advantage.’
The King pondered his words and nodded his head in agreement. ‘I concur. I want the Kyzantines and the Murukans to whittle each other down before we enter the battle. Don’t force their hands until absolutely necessary.’
Avernus grinned.
‘Your majesty, I best be off, I must organise much before I depart.’
‘Of course, of course, I shouldn’t keep you. Don’t worry about the nobles, they complain and whinge but will do nothing against me. This plan will go ahead and our names will go down in the history books.’
Avernus patted the man on the shoulder and walked off, pushed the doors open as the King sat back on his throne with a sigh. Things were going according to plan. With the King on his side he could go about his business without having to deal with any interference. All because the man’s nephew had talent and wished to pursue the path of power, the King would do anything to keep him unharmed by those Murukan witch seekers who would kill or exile any they found with a shred of skill.
The guards outside the palace entrance glanced in his direction as he opened the door but snapped their attention back to the ground when he met their scrutinising gazes. Avernus embraced the warm night air. The grounds were remarkably bare this evening, the courtesans and court nobles absent at such a late hour actually made the gardens seem so peaceful and lovely. Avernus looked over the intricate design of the tiled path and was astounded at its beauty. He loved his late night visits to the palace that allowed him to actually admire the beautiful art. He took a moment to linger before he sensed a shift in the weather. A single leaf let loose its grip from the branch on a nearby tree and fell to the ground. The breeze caught it and lifted it up again and carried it across the path before Avernus. The wind was howling in the desert to the north–west. Avernus put his hands in his robes and hurriedly walked through the palace grounds.
The streets of the town were basically empty, the taverns having closed hours ago. Two thugs lay in wait in an alley off to the left. They thought long and hard about it but the fire in the palm of his hand grew stronger and their confidence wavered. He continued down the street, choosing to head down the darkened alleys before casting in the darkness.
He teleported himself out of Granbury and away from the meddling and prying eyes of the Tyrean nobility. Avernus was not a fool and had established his safe haven far away from political intrigue.
He emerged from a similar darkened alley in Alvista, the trading capital of the Tyrean Kingdom, and headed for the distant sounds of the waves as they thudded against the docks. He now instinctively associated the noise with home.
As he got to the warehouse the sound of the waves of the harbour came crashing against the docks and the rhythmic breaking matched his breathing. Although the summer night was pleasant Avernus thought it would be wise to collect his thoughts inside the Seraphim compound. He would meditate on his recent discoveries beside the shrine that was hidden in the labyrinth where it could not be vandalised or sensed by those filthy Murukan magi. He detested the idea of living life under the cover of darkness. He and his brethren deserved to live in the open and be revered like the powerful magi they were. Then again the secrecy gave him drive. The magic was just as strong in them as it was in those bred in the Academy. Just because centuries ago the Council had exiled all those that chose the path of power from the continent and declared it was illegal for any to learn, didn’t mean it would be so. There were always ways to go about learning such things, you just needed to know the right kind of people.
He opened the smaller door beside the large ones that were used to take in bigger deliveries and entered the darkened room. As he closed the warehouse door behind him, the faint sounds of the waves stopped and were replaced by an eerie magical silence. Although he couldn’t see them he knew there were five sentries posted in the darkness. One mage and four guards. Arrows would be fixed on his chest. Avernus didn’t pause, headed straight for the trap door off to the left. He stamped on the trigger and it swung open. He walked down the stairs in the dark, gripping the handrail on the right.
The smell of dinner accosted his nostrils as soon as he had taken five steps down the entrance to the labyrinth. The common room was located a few metres away where the Seraphim ate their meals with the entirety of the brethren. He had wanted it that way, a sense of community, a sense of family. If they didn’t realise it, these men could only rely on each other. There were too many secrets to have other lives. If just one was told than all could be lost. Both the Kyzantines and Murukans had their spies and he was damn sure they wouldn’t be getting any wind of the Seraphim and their activities. He had placed enough wards around this place that not even the slightest trace
of magic would seep out.
When he arrived in the underground labyrinth, the lights awakened around him. The Seraphim lived and trained in rooms around the labyrinth. Moving into the labyrinth proper he could hear the noise of the students talking and the slight roar of the crowds watching the magi combat at one end of the expanse. Turning his head to the other end of the corridor he judged that the fighters were also bouting this night, practising their skills to be ready for when the time came. All was well in his little community.
Avernus found the brothers, Edrazil and Devilin, together in the main meeting room. Out of habit he paused outside the room before he entered, made sure he wasn’t interrupting anything that they didn’t want him to hear.
‘Eventually she has to say yes Ed, after she has exhausted every other option and willing man before she comes to you.’
‘Why is it the pretty ones always fuck with you the most Dev?’
‘You just need to get laid. Find yourself down in the brothel district, pay some money, and bed one of the whores. Barmaids are for those with charm and influence and you, my brother, have neither.’
Avernus chose that moment to enter, ‘Nor will you if you polish off ten drinks before gathering the courage to ask her anything.’
Devilin broke down with laughter and Avernus chuckled to himself. Edrazil frowned, a little downtrodden, before chuckling at the thought of approaching the barmaid sober.
There were already a dozen empty bottles on the table in front of the brothers and Avernus guessed that they were matching each other drink for drink. ‘So nothing better to do with your free time?’
Both men turned to face him, bottles to their lips. Edrazil reacted first, swallowed and moved the bottle away.
‘The taverns closed a few hours ago so we grabbed a case and thought we would wait here for you to return.’
‘Want one?’ offered Devilin.
‘Was the old man happy with our work in Tarkinholm?’ asked Edrazil.
Avernus grabbed the offered beer and sat down around the table. ‘Yeah, he wants this as much as us. He will keep the nobles out of our faces while we get on with it.’
‘Are we going to have to kill any of the nobles? asked Edrazil.
‘Maybe, but not yet. You know, for a second I thought I might have to do something with the King though. His mood swings are sporadic and I thought he had turned against us.’
‘If you did something permanent then the nobles would have found out and gone against us.’
‘Like burn him or something bad like that,’ injected Devilin.
‘It didn’t come to that. And I was thinking of a sleep spell or something similar. Nothing too lethal.’
‘So what do we get next?’
‘The Crystal of Ramatta. Did you decipher the map yet?’
Devilin took another swig of his beer. ‘Yeah, I know where we are going.’
‘So it’s just going to be us again?’ asked Edrazil, looking at Avernus.
‘It’s too risky exposing any more of us. The numbers would be welcome but I don’t think we should have too much of a problem. You two just have to be prepared to kill a lot of goblins and the like.’
‘Ah the supernatural hey …’
‘Guess we will need a few more shots of courage Ed before we go taking them on,’ said Devilin, putting the bottle to his lips and finished his drink, thinking it one big joke.
‘Get everything in order. I’m going to check on the student magi. We leave in the morning.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After Firadon, the Academy lacked a certain freedom. The weeks spent in the south had been a pleasant, if not surprising, interlude to her studies. Her relationship, for lack of a better word, with Rigel, which had immediately become more physical than usual, had returned once more to mage and acolyte the moment they had returned.
But his body hadn’t been the only pleasurable treat on the journey. The three books that Carina had obtained from the archaeology group were unprecedented. She’d had plenty of time to have an initial read through all three on their journey home and arrange a meeting with some of the Council.
Sitting at the desk in her room, she tapped her fingers against the wood and drifted away with the memories of their last night before returning. Rigel had rented a room in a tavern, the first bed they’d managed to get the entire trip. In return she’d been gentle with him, made sure the wound in his side didn’t burst again. It had been fun.
Carina sighed and tried to focus on the task before her. There was an art to copying and transcribing spells. The smallest of mistakes could be disastrous, either altering the spell with alarming consequences or causing her to burn out. But the risks were worth it; they were always worth it. And if she judged the content correctly, she would be ready to sit the Eighth Circle trials not long after learning the spells within.
The last spell in Beyond was more complicated than any of the others and by the time she had finished, Carina was unaware that a sheen of sweat had built on her brow until it dripped down onto her desktop with a small splash. Throwing her head back to avoid any damage to the pages in her personal spellbook, she managed to wipe her forehead with the back of her arm.
Transcribing the spells would help her commit them to memory and allowed her to travel without a cumbersome library. By touch of the cover alone, Carina could feel the power emanating from the pages, now much stronger after the recent additions. Closing her eyes she could see every spell, every character handwritten and inked on the velvet pages.
Opening the bottom drawer she piled the recently acquired books in neatly, then reinserted the false bottom. Satisfied that only an idiot would discover them, Carina looked around for the time while she stretched. It was about time that she went and met with Elder Kilke.
Rigel would be somewhere on the acolyte training grounds, he had already reported in to his generals about the incident in Firadon. It had been her Council that had held everything up. Carina wanted to head somewhere remote to learn her new spells, somewhere that she wouldn’t be noticed while channelling weaves no one had used for centuries. She had to master them quickly. The incantations from Battle Lore especially, she was eager to destroy something with powers that had been lost for centuries.
Walking through the Academy grounds, the presence of the novices didn’t bother her today. Normally Carina found them underfoot, always hovering, trying to learn things above their rankings instead of just spending the hours in the library, pouring over the ancient lore. Today, they breezed past her, as if nothing.
Carina found Rigel shirtless with a sword in his hand. He was in the middle of the courtyard, his muscles straining under the exercise of sparring with one of the others. Instead of interrupting, Carina found a seat amongst the initiates, other acolytes, and the novice magi who had yet to choose and earn their own acolyte. They were all watching in earnest as the fight moved back and forth across the courtyard.
Rigel was on the back foot, completely on the defensive. There were cheers from the crowd as the younger acolyte pressed the advantage. Rigel’s hand never went to the scar that was still red and raw but even Carina knew he didn’t have the full range of movement and wondered why he was pressing himself so hard, so quickly.
The younger man was playing to the crowd. Carina had no idea who he was but the younger magi in the courtyard were certainly aware of it. They were all smiling as he continued forward, the blade dancing in his hand. Rigel was countering, although slowly. Too slow. He’d just slayed a demon that most men and half the acolytes would never have been able to, some wouldn’t even have been able to track its movements. That demon was a monster designed for hunting its prey and killing anything that moved. Rigel was amongst the elite.
Carina scanned the younger man. He was fast and agile, and seemed to enjoy the sport of challenging Rigel. But Rigel didn’t seem to be on top of his game. The wound was practically healed, he should have the confidence to press forward and Carina didn’t understand why he was h
olding back. It was the twitch in his hand that gave him away. It took her only minutes to spot it, but it was there. Rigel had been by her side for so long now she knew exactly how his body moved.
And knowing what he was doing meant she knew what to expect next. Nearing the edge of the courtyard, Rigel countered at twice the speed he had been. The younger man wasn’t expecting it. Covered in sweat, Rigel quickly pressed forward and took the fight to him, his blade moving swiftly in his hand, blurring to life.
It was over quickly and the crowd dispersed, taking their disappointment with them. It appeared that most of them — nearly all of them — were supporting the other guy. Rigel had sunk to his arse in the middle of the courtyard, smiling up at her — the only spectator left in the stalls.
She smiled back. Carina couldn’t help it. His face brightened when he smiled and it was contagious. Her head tilted to one side, as she stared back at him. Rigel’s chest was heaving from exhaustion, his muscles covered in a sheen of sweat and his legs stretched out before him.
All he could do was shrug before collapsing to the ground, his hands going back behind his head in lieu of a pillow. Carina stood up and walked down to him, removed her robe and threw it over his face. Rigel playfully pretended to suffocate and struggled out of it before tucking it behind his head.
Carina sat down beside him, hugging her knees while he lay beside her.
‘What was that all about?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, I guess I felt like stretching.’
‘You’re recovering from a near fatal wound.’
‘I’m pretty much good as new. See?’ he said, turning on his good side so she could see the red scar.
Carina poked it.
‘Ow,’ Rigel mocked.
She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the distance.
‘I’m okay, you don’t need to worry about me.’
‘As if I ever worry about you.’
‘Well, just in case you changed your mind.’
They both let the silence hang in the air between them. There was little else to be said on the matter. Carina would never commit to anything more than what they were. And Rigel would wait for her always.