by Dan Adams
‘He never really hated you Hydrus, just liked to annoy you, get under your skin because he knew it bugged you. Guess I followed suit you know, let the tension build without resolving it. Life is too short, especially now.’
Castor stretched out his hand and offered it to Hydrus. ‘Let’s put it behind us and move on. The rivalry will still be there but we’ll smile about it.’
Hydrus shook Castor’s hand and smiled. ‘So be it Castor. Let’s go put Argol’s body to rest.’
Castor nodded and took one side of Argol’s corpse, Hydrus the other, and put it on the litter that had just been delivered. Castor took Argol’s sword from Virtue’s saddle as Hydrus neatly folded the arms across Argol’s chest and tucked two coins into each palm before Castor firmly clasped them around the sword hilt.
Volans and Ron headed over, nodded, and moved to either side of the litter. So these were his pallbearers, Castor thought, men that his friend liked and respected, had spent time with over the years and grown to love like brothers.
‘The holes are dug. It’s time we buried our friends,’ Volans said, waiting for the nod from Castor before stooping to pick up one end.
The three other men picked up their ends respectively and headed to the waiting Nails. They headed slowly to the gravesite as nine other litters made the same journey. Their brothers stood in silence as they laid their own to rest.
Castor’s heart was in his throat. He fought back tears. He forced himself to take step after step; he would honour Argol to the last. The four of them stood at a corner of his grave and slowly lowered his body into the ground, dropping to their knees in homage and to lower him all the way into the grave. Still kneeling they each grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it over his body.
They managed to stand, their faces stone cold, no emotion on their features as they made their way back to the Nails as ten elected men stood at the head of the graves with shovels. They started burying the dead when the Nails took up song.
We will remember you always
Forever chasing dreams
Cradled in your lover’s arms
You no longer scream.
Now you lie here broken
Bravely have you fought
The burden you have carried
Has not been for naught.
The Nails are forever
A brother by your side
In heaven as on earth
We shall always ride.
The voices of the Nails got louder as they repeated the verses, as the ten soldiers filled the graves. Castor stood between Hydrus and Volans, tears streaming down his cheeks while his voice remained strong as he mourned the dead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Climbing the narrow winding staircase in the half dark Ara stamped each foot down in frustration, the echo reverberating from the stone stairs and walls. Her face was awash with rage, her cheeks red from shouting and the hood of her robes was thrown back exposing her fiery auburn hair.
Ara was fuming that the book she wanted had disappeared from the library. Did people have no respect for returning things to where they belonged? What kind of shoddy job were the old women doing that they couldn’t even keep track of a bloody book?
Reaching the fifth floor, Ara stalked along the landing, heading for a door down on the left. There was no need to count the numbers on the doors, this was a room she had frequently visited over the years. Furiously banging on her old tutor’s door, memories of punishment and praise issued from inside flooded back. This time Ara hoped that Daria would be helpful in locating the book she needed, unlike those stupid First Circle librarians.
Ara looked down the empty corridor and wasn’t surprised that her commotion hadn’t even startled the rest of the block. She smiled. All magi had their little tricks. Contemplating whether she should just try to enter Daria’s room uninvited and risk triggering any spell traps she had on the door, Ara heard movement from inside the room.
Ara cracked her knuckles as she stood listening to the approaching footsteps and the sound of a lock turning. The door slowly opened and revealed the face of a woman in her sixties, with a head full of grey hair and wrinkles lining her face. But her blue eyes glinted with a spark of life that would be difficult to extinguish. Dressed in common street clothes that made her look older and less distinguished than the Eighth Circle mage she truly was, Daria still moved with graceful authority.
‘How did I know it would be you, child?’ she asked, waving her hand and summoning her inside as Ara was already pushing her way past into the small apartment.
‘Unless you have taken a lover, who else would be knocking on your door,’ she quipped back, looking back over her shoulder.
‘He usually comes during the night when it’s much more romantic.’
Ara’s mood soured further at the sight of Daria’s teasing smile and calm placidity. Glancing around the apartment — it was standard for the Academy and hadn’t changed since she had last been here — Daria had made it feel like home with a few personal touches here and there. Her ceremonial robes hung on a stand by the door, some new comfortable chairs by the fireplace. The doors of the two other rooms were closed but the light from the windows shone underneath. One complete wall of the room was lined with hundreds of books, some research, some histories, and some first editions on dimensional magic. It was a worthy collection that was three times the size of Ara’s, and somewhere along the shelves was her salvation.
Ara smiled and sat down in one of the two big comfortable chairs in the corner of Daria’s apartment. Adjusting slightly, the chair was the softest and most inviting she had ever sat on. Leaning back she was amazed how soothing it was and how easy it would be to fall asleep. Casting quickly and quietly, Ara picked up on the enchantment that had been used and marvelled at Daria’s ingenuity.
Daria looked over her old student. She had matured over the last couple of years, and a steady source of power radiated from her core. Sadly, it appeared Ara had maintained her childish impatience despite the rigorous punishments to beat the habit out of her. There was still time for more lessons. Her hair was cut short, the result of an experiment in the labs that had gone wrong that nobody was meant to know about. Daria had heard she was telling people the new look was her choice, but Ara’s hand kept going to play with her locks that were no longer there. Daria wondered if she dressed purposely in her black Academy robes, knowing how striking she looked.
Ara stood and removed them unaccustomed to the heat in the apartment and hung them beside Daria’s. Underneath she was wearing her traditional attire for the Academy: a loose flowing skirt that clutched at her hips and thin, almost translucent shirt. If she didn't have the talent she would have men chasing her all over the place.
‘So what brings you here Ara? It’s been a month since you passed the exam for the Seventh Circle, so you are beyond gloating now.’ The sting was hidden under the smooth and melodic voice.
‘I was never one to actually gloat, but receive praise on the other hand …’
‘Tea?’ Daria asked, moving the kettle over to the small fireplace.
‘Thanks. Actually I need a favour from you. I’m looking for a book and it’s not in the library. Those stupid librarians have not recalled it and now I’m never going to find it.’
‘Calm down child, all is not lost.’
The kettle rattled over the fire, water spitting out of the spout. Flames licked up the copper sides tinging the metal black.
‘I know, that’s why I’m here. You of all people can find any of the books on dimensional magic. I’ve seen you do it before. To be honest, I’m hoping that you say that you have a copy on your bookshelf.’
‘Which book?’ she asked, taking the kettle over to the small table set between the two chairs and pouring the boiling water into the cups.
‘The Starjek Chronicle.’
‘Aahh, Soul Entrapment. You’re up to that now? You have been moving steadily along, no wonder you made it into the Seventh Circle so young.’
‘That one is driven but you have natural talent. I can see you two pushing each other for all your lives.’
‘Pushing to the mad house perhaps.’
Daria chuckled, bringing her hand in front of her mouth to hide her pleasure at the young mage’s distress. She sipped at her tea. She put the cup down and reached for a book on the other side of the room. Telekinetically summoning it to her hand, the book flew straight toward her.
Ara gulped in anticipation that Daria actually had The Starjek Chronicle, only to be disappointed when Daria shook her head and began flipping through the pages, looking for the answers she sought.
‘Of course’, she claimed, ‘how silly of me to forget.’
‘What are you talking about Daria?’ asked Ara, a look of complete confusion on her face.
‘I read a copy of that book in Buckthorne when I was a few years older than you. It’s probably still there, I never brought it back, but I didn’t borrow it in the first place so it wasn’t my responsibility.’
‘Oh gods what is it doing there?’
‘It’s a long story. Basically it was moved there during the last war with the Kyzantine Empire over a hundred and fifty years ago. Magi were stationed there as a staging point when the fighting broke through the Callisto Mountains. They ferried books in so that they could continue to learn and research new spells to keep up the attack from the walls.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘War is a great opportunity for a mage. One can learn and test themselves, really see how far you can go, what you can do. And you have all those targets to practise on.’
Ara laughed. Her old friend certainly had a unique way of looking at things.
‘Magic is the one advantage that Murukia has over Kyzantium. Where one embraces, the other rejects. That is why we won.’
‘But that is solely due to religious beliefs,’ Ara pointed out.
‘True. The Kyzantine Emperor is a servant of their One God, appointed by their Church. It was the Church that banned the use of magic within its borders to avoid losing influence over the throne.’
‘And we have so much influence over the Murukan throne? The King is completely independent when it comes to ruling the Kingdom.’
‘But the Kingdom relies on magic and the Academy relies on the crown. You don’t bite the hand that feeds you, you play nice. Occasionally the opportunity arises when the Ninth Circle gets the chance to sway the King to their way of thinking and in return we are called upon for favours.’
Ara looked over the rim of her cup. ‘Is our lack of influence because we have gotten soft? To be honest there hasn’t been a large gathering of magi in five hundred years. Now we are even divided into chapters that mostly keep to themselves. Others have severed all ties with the Academy altogether. Or do they not think we are strong enough since we banned males from learning the art?’
‘Males have a tendency to choose the path of power rather than any of the other chapters like knowledge or healing. Our Academy decided that no mage who followed that path could learn here, so they left.’
‘They were hunted.’
‘Only a few … Anyway, that happened over five centuries ago and has long been dealt with.’
‘Yes, when we last gathered in force.’
‘They know we are a strength, we could waste their warriors long before they get close enough to overwhelm us, their arrows would bounce harmlessly off our shields. That is why they work with us.’
‘Fear.’
‘I prefer to call it understanding.’
Both women started to laugh. History and politics always had a part to play in everything. Even their talks had a way of turning out discussing those issues.
‘What of your acolyte? How is he these days?’
‘I dismissed him. He was always making advances on me and it finally got to me.’
‘He wasn’t good looking enough to indulge in the sins of the body?’
‘Please Daria, gods no, he was hideous. It just wasn’t going to work after the public rejection, so yeah …’ Ara trailed off, remembering the night he had made his move and she'd slapped him so hard across the face his lip split. It had become awkward and she had dismissed him not long after that.
‘What of your nightly caller?’
‘A nice gentleman, in his fifties, ex-soldier. He keeps himself fit.’
‘I’m guessing he keeps you fit too right?’
‘My thighs have never been stronger.’
‘Anyways … the book would still be in Buckthorne?’ Ara asked.
‘Yes, I don’t see why not.’
‘Are you up for a ride out there to have a look?’
‘A ride? How young do you think I am?’ Daria looked aghast at the very thought. ‘It would take over a month to get there travelling by horse.’
‘Couldn’t go without your lover for that long could you?’ Ara teased, smiling broadly.
Daria laughed at the accusation. ‘You think you’re funny don’t you?’
Ara shrugged.
‘Fine, I’ll come with you, but we will teleport to the message station of Hasta and ride from there. A few hours are the best you will get from me.’
‘That sounds like a great plan. Pack your stuff and I’ll meet you in twenty minutes,’ Ara said as she stood up and was moving to the door. ‘And you better leave a note on your door for your lover just in case you don’t make it back tonight. Heaven forbid that he feel rejected when you don’t answer your door.
With that Ara opened the door and left, briefly looking over her shoulder to see Daria fuming.
Ara slammed her fist on Buckthorne’s gate repeatedly, finally gaining the attention of the watch stationed behind it. The shadowy figures that lined the rampart above the murder hole made no movement to aid them, nor to speak on their behalf.
She turned to Daria with a dangerous look that screamed do something or I’ll burn the door down. The silence continued from the internal side of Buckthorne, as Ara’s impatience started to get the better of her and she began muttering in low guttural tones and purposely walking closer to the doors.
‘Who goes there?’ a voice asked from behind the gate as a slot opened at around head height.
Daria managed to elbow Ara below the ribs to snap her out of casting before the spell exploded around them. Giving her a disciplinary look, Daria took control of the situation.
‘Magi from Sarkridge,’ Daria replied as Ara gritted her teeth in frustration.
‘How can I tell if you're magi?’ he asked.
‘I can kill you where you stand. Will that help?’ Ara sneered before Daria could answer.
Daria rolled her eyes. ‘We have come in search of a book in the baron’s library. We were sent by the King himself. Will you refuse us entry?’
Ara looked over at her lying friend. Impressive.
Daria shrugged and whispered, ‘We’re all liars.’
Within moments, the door emitted a series of creaks and moans as two men pulled it open. An older man came walking out to meet them, a group of ten armed soldiers stood ready behind him.
There was a touch of grey in the man’s thinning hair, but he was dressed in the blue of Buckthorne’s Watch and bore the mark of captain on his collar. The chain that he wore underneath the gambeson hung noticeably from the bottom and he had two swords at his waist as well as his dagger. Like the rest of the watch in the background, this man was ready for a fight.
‘I should burn you where you stand for your insolence,’ Ara managed to curse between smiling lips low enough that the captain wouldn’t hear.
‘Where is the baron?’ Daria interrupted. ‘We would like to speak to him.’
‘He is out of Buckthorne presently, my lady mage,’ the captain answered as he walked closer. ‘There was a call and he was required to attend to the matter personally.’
The capta
in smiled confidently as he took Daria’s hand and bowed slightly. When he bent forward, his thinning hair was more apparent and as he returned upright Daria returned his infectious smile.
‘Are you always this cagey about your master’s presence?’ Ara asked.
‘When he so wishes.’
‘Very well. We need a book from the library. May we have an escort?’
‘Of course, ladies. Gerard,’ he shouted, indicating to a younger member of the watch that was standing beside the group of ten, ‘Show the magi to the library. See to their needs personally.’
The lad nodded, understanding the captain’s message. They were not to be unsupervised at any time.
Ara watched as their guide walked to a horse, put one foot in the stirrup and pulled himself into the saddle. Gerard had a youthful appearance, due to his short black hair and his clean-shaven face. His shoulders were broad and he cut a nice figure in his uniform. She wondered why he hadn’t enlisted in the military instead of joining the watch and made a mental note to ask him about it later. He nodded at them without smiling, his face an expression of professionalism, and indicated they follow, tapping the flanks of his mount with his heels and taking off toward the inner keep.
Ara reluctantly remounted her horse and it stumbled along behind the fresh leader. With her head down the mare was tired from the morning’s ride and needed a rest and some food. Riding behind Gerard, Ara looked at the citizens of Buckthorne milling around the vendors in the streets, haggling for cheaper prices. Others were talking in little groups which Ara did her best to eavesdrop, and was startled to hear tales of war. Some citizens stood and pointed at them and whispered, while others shut up and dispersed.
‘Gerard,’ Ara asked, ‘Why are the prices so high? Did the harvest not go so well this year?’
‘The harvest returned a mighty yield, but they fear the unknown and what the future holds. Best to make their money now I guess.’
‘Surely the future is unknown every year, boy?’ Daria asked.