The City of Wizards

by George Mazurek

  An image of the wizard with beads who addressed me ‘young lord’ flashed in my memory.

  It's a small world…

  “So I changed my appearance,” she continued, “And arrived to the city just in time to see the first rounds in the Arena.”

  “You sat behind me...”

  She flushed. “Yes.”

  “These rumors... What they were about?”

  She hesitantly looked into my eyes. “That Gael is back.”

  “Gael was sent into nonexistence. He's dead.”

  She stared at me without a word.

  I felt sweat on my forehead and palms.

  “You are protected by a spell so strong that even I don't understand its structure. This spell lasted for twenty six years. It's still perfect. The creator of this spell had to be really special.”

  “A ka'tan?”

  Her braid moved wearily from left to right.

  “A Warlock.”

  And with that she gave me a goodbye kiss. “Broken Crow, at sunset, love. Be there...”

  ♠

  I was watching the tournament for the third time. But nothing was the same as before...

  There was the trumpeting of fanfare as the King entered the Arena accompanied by his eldest son Jonas, a suite of royal guards, and the men and women of his court. His wife, Queen Tyra Leia, stayed at the palace with two younger sons and Miria, a newborn girl. Rodan the Third gave the impression of dignity and power as he sat in a neutral territory between humans and wizards with a golden crown on his head. People stood up and applauded, wizards bowed their heads, though enthusiasm of the Councilmen was more reserved. There were eight members of the Council at their places, including Martell.

  Martell didn't move when others greeted the King. There was an empty space dividing him from the rest of the Council.

  Even his compatriots avoid him for his crimes...

  It was an open secret that his wife and daughter had been missing for years, presumably killed by him, but no formal investigation was ever held. I could see hatred in his eyes when he watched Rodan. I disliked him even more.

  A coming storm with a black hammer-like top disturbed the audience, but Martell moved his little finger slightly and the thunderstorm vanished as easily as smoke from a chimney.

  What is his power?

  Suddenly, he caught my gaze.

  Damn!

  I turned away.

  Rodan the Third raised his royal hand and the combat continued.

  ♠

  The fourth tournament day was approaching its end. The last truel was about to begin and Martell looked bored as usual. He stood up and left quickly afterwards, while Master Cid'rel, the wizard all in light-green, took his honorary seat. The King was astonished by the day's performances and discussed it with some ladies to his left. His son seemed amused as well.

  Nobody paid any attention to me, a wizard disguised as an ordinary potter...

  Kat'ans at the opposite end of the row leaned together and exchanged a few comments though their lips barely moved.

  To my surprise, I could hear every word they said!

  “The white woman in the third row,” whispered the ka'tan on the left. “She is alone, take her. I'll take the one in yellow and pink in the middle.”

  “And what about meat for tephirs?” Asked the ka'tan on the right.

  “That chunky farmer in the highest row.”

  The ka'tan on the left gave a nod. “What about him? Cid'rel said...”

  “Shhhhhh... No names. We will get rid of our problem soon enough.”

  What's going on?

  Only then I realized what they were talking about.

  I already knew about it from Elisa.

  But I felt a wave of terror again...

  ♠

  The audience was leaving the stands, and I followed the young woman in white.

  I had to choose. The other woman in pink and the fat farmer were doomed.

  It was easier than I thought. The crowd got thicker as usual and in some places panic broke out. People were stumbling and falling when a shadow swept over, a ka'tan extended his arm and lifted the woman onto his tephir so quickly that no one had noticed.

  No one except me...

  ♠

  The woman screamed, but it was muted by the turmoil below. I had to act quickly!

  I jumped after the tephir before it could rise and snatched both the woman and the ka'tan. We fell onto steep slope under the stairs and rolled down till we stopped by a wall.

  The woman, covered in blood, screamed and ran away. The wizard tried to grab her, but I came between them.

  “You'll pay for this!”

  The ka'tan crossed his fingers under his sleeves to deliver a spell. I felt a buzzing and crackling in the air. Nothing else happened.

  Now it was my turn. I raised my left hand with strange warmth accumulated between a thumb and a forefinger and struck the wizard.

  The ka'tan staggered back. Two black stripes appeared, one across his chest and another above the waist, dividing him into three parts. The upper part began to slide aside leaving his legs standing for a second, and then the rest of his body fell to the ground in the same grim fashion.

  Rats from sewers rushed in, smelling a feast, but the body transformed into a mound of black sand before they could dip muzzles into warm blood. That's how wizards die. Don't look for any wizard cemeteries. There are none.

  Alas, it was not as easy as it looked. My left hand was badly burned.

  ♠

  “I need some sa'ne,” I said to Elisa's uncle. “But I have nothing to pay with.”

  He looked at me carefully. “I heard that Rae'sel, a member of our most respectable Council, was sent into nonexistence,” he said. “You have paid enough, my lord...”

  And he gave me a rainbow sprout.

  “Thank you...” I turned away but then something flashed through my mind.

  “What was Gael like?” I asked him.

  “Gael? As his name has it. He was just. A true guardian of humans and wizards. You've got his face and voice, my lord.”

  I knew that already. The pieces were beginning to fall into place.

  ♠

  We lay side to side at Broken Crow, a remote inn in the eastern part of the city. She was dressed only in her necklace; I was wearing just my bandage with a sa'ne ointment.

  Her room was small but clean and cozy, equipped with well preserved furniture, a bed, and a table next to a wardrobe. Our clothes were scattered across the floor in piles, though, and I wished they could stay there forever. I leaned to the table for a cup of tea with honey.

  “What are Eyes of Mag’reb?” I asked.

  I told her what had happened earlier, but now I just wanted to think about something else.

  “It's a very old tale about love of a wizard woman and human man from the beginning of time. They started building a tower to celebrate their love, with bricks and spells. After they had passed away thousands followed their legacy, until the tower touched the skies. In the process, the tower accumulated immense power and strength from all of its builders during the course of time. When it was completed, Mag’reb chose the first Warlock, A’dan, who transformed Averot’h into the city we know today. The Eyes of Mag’reb are just the eyes of all humans and wizards who've lived since then. You know, one common misconception is that Mag’reb has to be good. But it's not that simple. Wizards and humans who built it were not all good, right? That's why someone like Ver’del could become a Warlock. He was among the most ambitious and cruel ka’tans, but he had challenged and defeated Gael, and it's all that matters.”

  “I guess I understand it. Its essence is both good and evil, at least to a certain extent... And what about Ka’tan? How this had begun?”

  “The Council was established by Tor’lak, the tenth Warlock, when the population of the city grew rapidly, and the need arose to set up a body that would oversee the order. It was founded to serve and protect, not to rule. But, as you
know already, it had degenerated somehow in the process...”

  “I was wondering about something else too... Is magic created in fingers? I mean Ver’del doesn't have any despite being a Warlock...”

  “No, magic is a part of our body in the same way blood or flesh is. You need fingers to articulate a spell. The process is similar to speaking: you need lips and a tongue to pronounce words. If you don't have any fingers, you can use movements of wrists and palms instead.”

  She rested on her belly, observing me closely.

  “And now about you... Where did you live before you came here?”

  “My home is at a small farm near a ford across the Yellow River, fourteen days to the south. Only four people used to live there, me, Lokmi, our mum, and her uncle, an old man. We grew barley, potatoes and other crops and kept a dozen hens and a little cow. We ran a small watermill too.”

  “Sounds nice...”

  I smiled sadly. “When the harvest was good, we sold our products at a fair in Jigra, a small town down the river, but during years when the harvest was poor, we were too busy trying not to starve to death. We didn't care about the rest of the world.”

  “Now you must...” She whispered and took my left hand. “You have to accept your heritage, love. And you must learn how to use your powers without getting hurt...”

  I said nothing for a while. There were still some pieces to be put into place...

  “Did Gael father any children?”

  “I heard Gael had a son who disappeared after his death,” she said.

  “And what happened to a mother of the child?”

  “Lady Laetia? She died giving birth.”

  And the last piece...

  “Who would benefit from rescuing the child?”

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘That you have to find out yourself.”

  I caressed her back and shoulders with my healthy hand.

  “I wondered also... Are wizards ticklish?”

  Her eyes caught fire. “Try it and you're dead!”

  I decided to take a risk...

  She laughed but defended herself pretty well.

  “I'm stronger, my love,” I said as I turned her onto her back. The dragon's charm shone brightly against her naked breasts.

  Her wide eyes with long eyelashes narrowed dangerously. “But I'm more cunning,” she replied.

  A strong sneeze forced me to release the hold and suddenly she was on top of me.

  She smiled triumphantly as she pressed my wrists onto the bed behind my head. “You're pinned! You lost!”

  “You cheated!”

  “I don't remember we set any rules, sweetheart,” she whispered as she slid back, and our bodies merged once again...

  INTERMEZZO

  The Rite

  Cid’rel left his apartment at the top floor of Tor’lak's palace. His tephir was already awaiting his master and ready to take him to the Council tower.

  The night was falling gently on the land when they took off. Small lights from candles and fires glowed under wizard's feet, creating new and unexpected constellations like the sky above him. Cid’rel recognized a straight line of lights running from Purple Square to Wailing Stone, where crowds of humans were gathering all days praying for a magic help. Some wishes were truly met, which puzzled him during his first weeks in the city. Later, he found that only prayers with an exact and somewhat unusual wording were fulfilled, but he had no intentions to reveal the truth to the public. Strangely, only human prayers were complied, and he did not have any idea why...

  He wondered how many people knew that Averot’h is composed of two words, ave and rotah, which meant bless Rotah in the old language. Rotah was a forgotten founder of the city, both genius and a madman. He dried up ubiquitous swamps, leveled off a terrain, and built the Wall with an unknown purpose. He also transferred a large piece of granite from Troggyr Mountains and endowed it with a mighty spell that gave birth to Wailing Stone some three millennia ago.

  In his younger years Cid’rel tried to remove the spell attracting so many humans to the city, but his efforts were bitterly unsuccessful. Cid’rel was proud of his magic abilities nevertheless. He could repeat every spell of every ka’tan, or even Ver’del, with only one exception. Warlock's magic was not exceptional; it lacked spark of subtlety and art of creativity. But Martell's magic was something completely different, though the Supreme demonstrated it rather sparsely. Cid’rel wouldn't admit it openly, but deep in his mind he knew this man from nowhere was miles and miles away...

  Stay focused, he rebuked himself. You've got a meeting of a special relevance tonight...

  ♠

  The main hall at the top of Ka’tan was decorated with beige marbles on the walls and square tiles covered with a mosaic of magical symbols. Tower's interior was lit by nine tall candles in golden candleholders, the gift of the first Supreme to the Council.

  Aside from the candles, in the northern aisle, seven ka’tans were gathered along with a new wizard. The newcomer was in his mid-thirties, he had ambitious eyes, long black hair, small nose, and thin lips. His black-grey coat indicated some mountain region as a place of his origin. He contacted Cid’rel in the Arena the day before. No one has ever heard of him, but he was certainly worth trying...

  Ka’tans sat down at a semicircle in the middle of the hall. Cid’rel took himself an honorary seat opposite the semicircle.

  “Where is the Supreme?” Master Ol’wen asked.

  “He hasn't come,” Cidrel replied, “as he hadn't many times before...”

  “He should be there,” Ol‘wen insisted, “The rite requires his presence.”

  “The Codex is not so explicit in this point, and you know it, Master Ol’wen, Cid’rel objected. “We may proceed without him, but let's vote. Who votes aye to start the trial now?”

  One by one, ka’tans banged the floor with ends of their ceremonial staffs. One bang meant yes, two quick bangs no.

  To Cid’rels' relief, all strokes were single.

  “Master Ol’wen, as the oldest present wizard serving to this noble and respectable Council, I name you candidate's representative.”

  “I understand, Your Excellence,” addressed wizard bowed with no emotion. “It's an honor.”

  “So let's begin.”

  All wizards stood up and started to sing an ancient song in an old language, a prequel to the rite that hasn't changed during centuries. When it ended, Ol’wen stepped forward.

  “Your Excellence, there is a man who wants to become our brother. There is a man, who wants to serve the Council with his power, his heart, and his courage. Your Excellence, there stands a man who wants to fulfill the Trial of the Three Elements. His name is Gokhor, and he came from the Highlands of Great Stones. Lend an ear to his request.”

  “Yes, I will, Cid’rel nodded and banged his stuff three times. “You are admitted to the trial, Gokhor. Are you familiar with the Trial's course and conditions?”

  “Yes, I am,” the new man said for the first time. His voice was mute and slightly nervous. He moved to a triangular sign of Council on the floor.

  “Akkar!” Cidrel exclaimed loudly.

  The Trail has begun.

  ♠

  Ol’wen started the Trial with a piece of rock that changed into a hot lava stone while heading to Gokhor's head, but the wizard readily transformed it into ash before the stone could hurt him. After the first spell was conjured, all present ka’tans were allowed to cast a spell, and Gokhor had to defend all threats without moving aside from the sign under his feet. He was certainly an experienced wizard, decent, fast, and elegant, so the first part of the Trial finished soon.

  Cid’rel hit the floor once, and the second part began with a flame rising from Ol’wen's hand. Gokhor reacted well, quenching the fire with a gust of strong wind. Then, he successfully parried spells featuring fire walls or bolts of lightning. A bang of Cid’rel's staff announced the second part of the exam was done.

  Ol’wen's fingers draw a complicated pattern
in the air, and Gokhor found himself imprisoned in a large basin of water with no breathable air inside. He was forced to use a spell that transformed water into the air. Another ka’tan send a heat to the water, so the water began to boil, but Gokhor acted promptly releasing the heat out of the basin. After some other tricky spells fended off by the applicant, Ol’wen released a surprising super freezing spell that clenched Gokhor into an ice crust. Gokhor moved his fingers to release the constriction, but his fingers covered with ice dispatched an imprecise, thus ineffective, spell. The freezing expanded rapidly as a bolt. It crushed wizard's chest at the same time as it blew out his skull and brain.

  Ka’tan went into dead silence.

  On the triangle sign a body of a young wizard lay motionless until it began to disintegrate into sand. The stone with the sign turned upside down, so remnants of the wizard could fall freely out of the tower.

  Humans called it The Rain of the Death.

  Cid’rel stood up. His eyes were in furious flames.

  “Are you satisfied, Master Ol’wen? He was a satisfactory candidate by all means.”

  Ol’wen looked unmoved. ‘He failed...”

  “Did you do this because of Martell's absence?”

  Ol’wen kept silent.

  Cid’rel shook his head and left the tower.

  He was disappointed to the last veil of his body. Only one thing could diminish his frustration. The thing, which he devoted himself from time to time since his school years, and which has never disappointed him.

  A murdering of humans...

  CHAPTER 5

  Day five

  I spent all night holding her tightly.

  When she woke up, she was simply lovely, winking into the morning light with the hair tousled around her blushing face.

  “A wild dream?” I joked.

  She brushed her hair back behind the left ear with a faint smile.

  “Don't ask…“

  I laughed. “Perhaps it wasn't a dream... Love, I'm going to the King. He must know what's going on,” I said, putting on my trousers and shirt.