The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Kin of Caladen

by B. A. Scott

  “How do you mean?” Finwynn asked.

  “They began as three races—Primen, Blessed and Fated. But in their companionship, a spring of mix-breeds emerged. New life. New forms. Unforeseen effects. Most notably, cross-breeding stifles the potency of Primen venom. Their teeth bear no malignance within.”

  “You must be so proud,” Finwynn snarled. He hung his head in despair, wondering how such a history was ever allowed.

  “In the centuries that passed,” Daro said, continuing his earlier account, “I promised my children deliverance. Their world was taken from them. And I would help them take it back. You see, now, why every fountain I drank from, every morsel of power I’ve sought, every furentus I’ve gathered, is necessary.”

  “So that you may rule over Adoran,” said Finwynn.

  “I don’t want to rule this world,” Daro corrected him. “I never have. I simply want to smear you from it.”

  “But all the people you mean to massacre—they’re innocent lives,” Finwynn pleaded.

  “Whose fates were decided by their own recalcitrant leaders,” Daro said coldly. “There is no stopping what’s to come. It is happening as we speak. I have seized Adoran by the throat. The nations will recede behind their walls, like frightened creatures, tucked fearfully in their shells. But it will not save them. I will purge this world of the faithless, and forge it anew. A place where discovery is not seen as a distortion of natural law, but an understanding of it. I am not the first to have envisioned such a place. Sages from the War of Ages—Mizzen and Aleraea. Even the great Idonitus once believed as I do. He pushed the limits of magical experimentation—that is, until the goddesses scorned his achievements. The coward, he yielded to their coercion and abandoned his pursuits, but not before discovering many revolutionary insights.”

  “Like the Oblivion Flame,” Finwynn said. “A thing that devoured armies.”

  “A thing that ended the War of Ages,” said Daro. “You see? Your like have always been too narrow-minded to see the larger picture.”

  “The larger picture?” Finwynn asked. “If you obliterate every nation of Adoran—down to the last soul—do you not see the ramifications? This world of magical discovery you seek will not exist. The Sages will be gone, and their power with them. You would be the only wielder. Or is that your intention?”

  “Magic will endure beyond their deaths—and mine,” said Daro. “I have made certain of that.”

  “How?”

  “I am Erygian, Finwynn. My bloodchildren carry my strain. And so, too, will their offspring, granting the chance for Enchanters to emerge among them—and the many generations that follow. Yet even so, I’m convinced that the greatest discoveries still to come will not be of magic. All it takes is an ambitious mind in pursuit of knowledge. And what if they are not a wielder, but a practitioner of medicine, of science? Whatever the field, my principles will echo throughout.”

  “You believe your course so validated,” Finwynn said, shaking his head. “So righteous. But it is not a world of discovery that you seek. It is a place where no one protests your experimentation. Where you’re heralded as master of all things. Never questioned. Never hindered. Never accountable. Such a life—such a place—does not exist. I feel for your old masters. You have entirely lost your mind. You’re a madman. A thief. A murderer.”

  “I take no pleasure in delivering death, Sage,” Daro spat. “It became a necessary length long ago. A village, guarding magical tomes, needs to be raided. So be it. A patrol impedes my endeavors—it must be removed. I would never have accomplished anything if I didn’t learn to think objectively. There was a time when I hoped for a peaceful resolution, but the world has forced my hand.”

  “The world never forced your hand,” Finwynn retorted. “It has only implored you to see reason. Even your mentors tried to redirect your path. They tried to keep you from the dark.”

  “No,” said Daro. “They tried to keep me from the light.”

  A Fated messenger passed through the open doors of the chamber, and knelt before Daro.

  “My Lord,” it said. “Your son, Prince Dexius Alakai, has arrived.” Daro looked to see Dexius appear in the archway behind the Fated One.

  “My son,” said Daro. Dexius entered and knelt beside the Fated.

  “Thank you, Heilus,” the Dark Lord told the creature. The Fated exited the chamber, and Daro observed his bloodchild. “You bear a troubled brow, Dexius. Does it not bring you joy to be here at long last?”

  “It does, Father,” said the Dark Prince. “But with my arrival, I bring grave news.”

  “What news?” asked Daro. Then, he realized that Dexius had entered the chamber alone. “Where is your mother? Where is my Queen?”

  “She... did not survive the crossing,” Dexius answered. Daro’s eyes widened.

  “No,” he uttered painfully. “She had everything she needed. Why is she not here with you? What happened to her?!”

  “Slain,” said Dexius, his eyes downward, “by Vexen’s hand.”

  Daro was speechless.

  “Our sister?” asked Hadaan. “Say is it a lie, Dexius. It cannot be true!”

  “Vexen was never in her right mind,” Dexius uttered. “She has denounced your ways, Father. She has denounced you.”

  “Where is she?” Daro asked, anger filling his face.

  “I’ve brought her body. Your Queen will always be with—”

  “Not your mother,” Daro snapped. “Your sister. Where is she now?”

  Dexius took a heavy breath. “She’s gone,” he said. “Fled into the bosom of the Wastelands. I have scores of Fated searching for her. But so far, they have found nothing.”

  Daro massaged his forehead, then slicked back his white hair. “This is most disquieting,” he said. “Your brother and I march to Caleton tonight, Dexius. You will remain here, and wait for the Fated Ones to deliver your sister. If they should do so before my return, bind her well and keep her alive. For if she truly stands against us—as the faithless do—then she will suffer as they suffer.”

  That night, Lord Daro marched toward the Human city of Caleton. On armored horseback, the dark man led his troops southward from the Adorcenn Tower. Primen and Blessed trailed in formation as the Fated Ones sprung from their posts atop the Tower’s outer wall, and filled the skies above Adoran like angels of death.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 21: The Grove at Greenhill Lake

  After days of hard travel, the group knew they were nearing the end of their journey.

  “Greenhill Lake,” Athiux said from atop a hill, looking down upon the vast body of water. “Caleton draws near. We will rest for a bit. If we travel through the night, we can reach the city by morning.”

  “Hold on, Ady,” Gabrel said to himself. “I’m almost there.”

  When everyone had settled their horses, the Erygians built a small campfire. Gabrel’s mind was far from at ease when he sat by the warm flames. Half of him wished he was already in Caleton, saving Adelyne with the Tears of Life. The other half hoped to never arrive, so long as he lived—on account of his Erygian company.

  “Gabrel,” Kaven addressed his brother quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Look,” Gabrel said, “I told you why I did what I did. Now shut up about it, alright?”

  “No, not the Am—” Kaven halted his sentence, looking to see if Athiux and Kade were listening in on their conversation. “Not that. I can’t stop thinking about how I stopped a bloody rock from smashing you to bits.”

  “Oh that,” Gabrel said, relieved.

  “How is it possible?” Kaven asked.

  “Now you know how I feel.”

  “Sure, but at least you know you can wield magic because you had a spirisortium. I never had one.”

  “You could ask the Sage how it might have happened.”

  “Are you mad?” Kaven asked. “These Erygians are the last people I’d tell this to. I’d rather keep them in the dark. That way, if they shoul
d try to hurt us, I’ll have a trick or two up my sleeve.”

  “Well I don’t know what to tell you,” Gabrel said. “If you want answers, there’s really only one question you should be asking yourself—how bad do you want to know?”

  Gabrel saw frustration boiling in his brother’s eyes. Kaven looked to Athiux, torn between maintaining secrecy and acquiring truth.

  “Athiux,” Kaven spoke to the Sage, who had taken some of the furenti from their packs, and was observing them with a keener eye.

  “Yes?” asked Athiux.

  “I—” Kaven began, but he shook his head, not knowing how to put what he had to say into words.

  “What is it?” Athiux asked.

  “Something happened in the junakothari when Gabrel and I were alone,” Kaven confessed. He reached toward the fire, and filled himself with magic. His eyes glowed brightly as he levitated a burning log above the tips of the flames.

  Athiux lowered his head, and rubbed his face. “Oh glory,” he said. “I feared it was true.”

  “What?” Kaven asked. “You knew?”

  “No,” Athiux said. “But the night I came to your rescue on the road from Trendell—the night you carried your brother’s burning body into the woods, I thought I saw something impossible, for there appeared to be not one brother consumed in flame, but two.”

  “Yeah,” Kaven said. “Some of the flames from his spirisortium burned me as well.”

  Kade’s head jerked toward Athiux. “A transferred spirisortium?” she asked.

  “It has happened before,” Athiux told her.

  “But I didn’t burst into flames like Gabrel did,” Kaven reasoned. “I didn’t experience the spirisortium myself.”

  “No,” said the Sage. “But coming into contact with those enduring the spirisortium can yield unexpected and oftentimes dangerous results. You touched magic in its rawest, most unstable form that night, Kaven. Did you really expect not to be affected by it?”

  “Wait,” Gabrel said. “So, if my counting’s correct, we have four people here who can wield magic.”

  “Indeed,” said the Sage.

  “Then why the hell did we go to the junakothari in the first place?” Gabrel belted. “We have four people here who can enchant objects—Kaven and I with training of course, but—”

  “You think you can create a furentus?! HA!” Athiux interjected, finding the assumption both completely absurd and hilarious. “You think I can?”

  “You’re a Sage!” Gabrel said. “It should be easy for you.”

  “Sorenti are easy for me—healing bracelets, rain shields—things of that nature. But a furentus is beyond me, Gabrel, even as a Sage.”

  “Why?” Gabrel asked. “I’ve seen lightning come from the palm of your hand. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

  “Oh, there is plenty, I assure you,” said Athiux. “As one drinks from more and more fountains, Gabrel, his power grows exponentially. Therefore, the most powerful of wielders have been Sages that have sipped from all the fountains of the land. Furthermore, most of the furenti hidden across Adoran were forged by the combined efforts of Sages past.”

  “Most?” asked Gabrel.

  “There have been those who have amassed greater power than others,” said Athiux. “It is believed they are chosen by the Goddesses themselves. What may take one wielder years to master, might take another only days. You and your brother are prime examples of this. I’ve seen Enchanters struggle for weeks before levitating so much as a rock from a riverbed. Yet the two of you have already performed such magic. It’s a shame—such talent…”

  “Such talent…what?” Gabrel asked. “Oh, such talent wasted,” he realized. “Because our days are clearly numbered, is that right? And everything we’ve learned—everything we’ve become—is for naught. You know, it suddenly feels a bit crowded over here. I think I’m going to go sit by the water.” He rose with a scowl, and left the others.

  “Me too,” Kaven added, joining his brother.

  Kade glared at her grandfather. She stood, and headed for Gabrel and Kaven.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Athiux asked her.

  “I wish to talk to them,” said Kade.

  “That’s a bad idea, Kade,” said the Sage.

  “Why?” Kade asked accusatorily. “Why is talking to them a bad idea?”

  Athiux’s brow grew stern. “The more you get to know them,” he said, “the harder it will be.”

  Gabrel and Kaven plopped down on the banks of Greenhill Lake. “Well now that we’re alone, let’s talk about it, Gabe,” Kaven said quietly.

  “What?” asked Gabrel.

  “The Amulet of Oblivion,” said Kaven. “What do you plan to do with it?”

  “Use it against Daro’s armies,” Gabrel said.

  “Right, but how, exactly?” Kaven asked. “You obviously don’t want the Sage to know you took it. And then, there’s the tiny issue of them vowing to kill us when we get back to Caleton. So tell me, how do we survive what’s to come? And how does that thing get from your pocket to the battle?”

  “Maybe…” Gabrel thought, “maybe the Amulet’s the answer. I’d love to see the look on their faces when they come to make good on their promise, and it’s hanging around my neck.”

  “You don’t even know how it works,” Kaven argued. “And Athiux said it can’t be controlled. You might set it off somehow, and take a few innocent people out with them. Maybe even me.”

  “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

  “I suppose we could take Adelyne, and leave Caleton. Escape before the deed is done. But then, we’d be half-breed criminals, with a target on our backs for the rest of our lives. Not to mention trying to survive, while Daro’s demons lurk around every tree stump.”

  “I don’t know what to do, Kaven. If that Sage wants me dead, how can I possibly stop him? With a measly shield spell?”

  They heard the nearing of soft footsteps, and turned where they sat to see Kade approaching.

  “Oh,” Gabrel said unpleasantly. “It’s you.”

  “Hello,” said the Enchantress. “Tell me, what’s your plan when you get to Caleton?”

  Gabrel hesitated before answering, reluctant to speak. “I’ll save my wife,” he said at last. “Then, I’ll tell King Mercer what happened to his ambassadors, and that the Erygians couldn’t give an army. Does your grandfather plan on telling the King about my spirisortium? That I’m Erygian and Kaven might be as well?”

  “No,” said Kade. “If he did, Mercer might order your deaths before you have a chance to speak with your father.”

  “Why’d you come over here?” Kaven asked.

  “Because you’re the most agreeable company in this camp right now,” Kade answered. “Gabrel, have you thought about how you might avoid what’s to come?”

  “I’m surprised you’re so concerned,” said Gabrel. “But do you really think I’d tell you anything?”

  “You need a plan, Gabrel,” Kade insisted.

  “You could help us, you know?” Kaven told her.

  “How can I?” asked Kade, pleading for an answer. “I didn’t write the old laws. But I’m charged to uphold them, nonetheless—despite my opposition to their brutality.”

  “Look,” Gabrel said. “All I know is that I’ll do anything to stay alive, and protect my family.”

  “But you can’t protect them when you’re dead,” said Kade.

  “Then help us!” Kaven urged. “Clearly, you want to!”

  Kade paused, looking desperately into Kaven’s fierce eyes.

  “When we were fighting the Spawn of Mirrorblood,” Gabrel spoke, “mine said something to me that I can’t seem to shake. It told me, ‘some fates cannot be changed.’ I don’t want to believe it, but it feels like I’m powerless to stop what’s coming.”

  “I felt the same way,” Kaven said, “as Kiara died in my arms.”

  “You lost someone?” Kade asked.

  “It’s none of your business,” Kaven sa
id.

  “I’ve seen you with that piece of cloth,” Kade said. “I’ve seen how you look at it. Was it hers?”

  “Stop,” Kaven warned.

  Kade dared to move a little closer to the brothers. “I lost someone too,” she said. “My husband. He was a soldier patrolling the outskirts of our realm. It was five years ago—”

  “What makes you think we give a damn about anything you say?” Kaven interrupted. “With what you plan to do?”

  A tense silence fell between them.

  “At least she warned us about it,” said Gabrel. “She didn’t have to.”

  “I don’t care,” Kaven said.

  “And did you see the look on Athiux’s face when she did?” Gabrel continued. “She helped me with my magic when he refused to. And you seem to have forgotten that she healed you in the junakothari. You would have died. But she saved you. That has to stand for something.”

  “Why in blazes are you defending her?” Kaven fumed.

  “Because it’s tormenting her, can’t you see?” Gabrel said. “Kade, tomorrow, you are our enemy. There’s no avoiding it. But tonight—tonight, we share a camp. So, let’s agree to an understanding, shall we? You have been commanded to uphold a murderous law. To play executioner, whether you want to or not. But if you or that Sage try to harm me, my wife, my brother—anyone I hold dear in my heart—I’ll do everything I can to stop you. Even if that means taking you down with me.”

  Kade nodded sadly, knowing Gabrel wouldn’t stand a chance against herself or Athiux.

  “Now that we understand one another,” Gabrel said. “I believe you were telling us that you lost someone.”

  “It was five years ago,” said Kade. “I was a healer in Allestron. I’d just learned that my husband was killed in one of Daro’s attacks. When I finally saw his body, I can’t tell you how long I cried over it. It was then that the spirisortium took me. I remember calming them, and little else. When I awoke, my grandfather tried to explain that what plans I had with my life were forever changed—that I had a duty to the people. I accepted it wholeheartedly. With my beloved gone, duty was all I had left. So, I began my training and my travels.”