Welcome To The Age of Magic

by C M Raymond et al.

  “I assure you, I wasn’t. But, since you can’t read minds…” Larick shrugged. “Perhaps we can walk back, and you can tell me a bit more of your ways in the clans? I know Volney would be pleased to take notes, for the records we hope to keep of our journeys.”

  “Spill my secrets to complete strangers?” Donnon pursed his lips, considering this. “Why the hell not?”

  So, they started walking, and soon met Volney, and as they did, Donnon told them about the elemental spirits they see as kids. How, when a member of a clan first sees a spirit, they report in to the clan elders. They are then given a coming of age ceremony of sorts, no longer considered a child once they are able to wield magic, regardless of the age. But they wouldn’t be given the title of water, fire, or wind mage, based on the respective clans, until they had moved beyond the stage where a spirit guided them in their use of magic.

  For a moment, they looked at him like they knew something he didn’t, but neither said a thing. When they reached the kitchen, he found a drink and a taste of apple tart, and went on to explain the differences between the clans, and how they had formed over the years, happy to have the distraction. His clan, for example, had gone to the mountains and found their affinity for fire magic early on. Some, such as the water clan his best childhood friend had belonged to, didn’t even realize they knew magic for a few years after the end of the Age of Madness.

  Then the paladins came, led by their High Paladin, Sir Gildon, preaching about magic being evil. But the clans all knew that what he did was no different than their magic. Sure, it performed differently, but his eyes changed color and miraculous events occurred. As far as they were concerned, there was no question about it being magic, and therefore none of the clans ever even considered that they might be evil.

  “Rightly so,” Larick said, and then continued with the questioning as the hours went on, while Volney scribbled away at his parchment.

  8

  After leaving Rhona to nap, Alastar went to grab a snack and inquire about bathing. The mystic, Volney, sat in a chair scribbling on parchment. The man gave Alastar a brief nod, then continued writing.

  “This Arcadian Valley,” Alastar started, “what makes it so special that you’d come here to teach us?”

  Volney paused, wrote one last word, and then looked up at him. “Perhaps I’ve given the wrong idea. We’re here to learn as much as to teach. Consider it a joint information exchange.”

  Alastar bit into an apple and considered that for a moment, then swallowed and said, “What do you hope to learn from us?”

  “First, let me ask you about magic. Your Order of Rodrick believes it to be evil, aye?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Yes, naturally… But have you ever studied it? Bothered to ask where it came from?”

  Alastar shook his head.

  “What if I were to tell you that magic is really only fifty to a hundred years old?” Volney adjusted in his seat so that he could better face Alastar. “Give or take.”

  “We all know that it evolved at the end of the Age of Madness,” Alastar said, annoyed. “This is nothing new. It only makes sense that it would be evil. First, dark forces turned much of the world into creatures no better than animals. Vile beasts. We defeated many of them, then fled, to the hills for the clans, the fortresses for my people. And then that madness transformed into magic.”

  “And how do you suppose that came into being?”

  “Our beliefs tell us there must have been some form of intelligence behind it. Strike men mad, and when that doesn’t work, give the evil among us great powers so that good might be defeated once and for all.”

  “Except, you no longer fully believe that, do you?” Volney leaned forward, eyes moving across Alastar’s face, and then he smiled. “No, you do not.”

  Alastar frowned, wondering if the man was reading his mind. But no, that wasn’t possible.

  “Where I come from, we have a different tale of the coming of magic,” Volney explained. “The simple, not entirely accurate version is that the Founder used magic to bring the Age of Madness to an end. Do some people use magic now for evil? I can attest to the fact that they do, most certainly. But only because magic has come to this world indiscriminately. It is not for the evil, not for the good. In fact, my understanding of it is that magic came about because of something called the Etheric, and nanocytes in our blood that affect us and our connection to the Etheric in odd ways.”

  “It sounds like you’re speaking gibberish.”

  Volney chuckled. “Indeed, I would think the same if I were you.”

  “How does this help me? How does knowing this help me heal my sister, or put it right in my mind that I’ve been fighting magic users for so long now?”

  “None of it does. What you can do with this information is up to you. But… I hope you will consider what it means for you going forward, not looking back at your past.”

  Alastar took a seat next to the man, then tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf between them. “Your kind has kept records of our world and its goings-on?”

  “Yes, though, it’s not complete. Hence me being here.”

  “Before the Age of Madness, these buildings and ruins we see remnants of. What do your records recall of that?”

  Volney sighed and shook his head. “Little and less. The old ones who survived pass on stories they heard, of a time of regrowth after some catastrophic event that tore our world apart. Others speak of powerful beings from other worlds and great wars.” He waved at the sky. “Perhaps it’s all going on right now? But who can you believe? In times like this, when anything seems possible, it almost makes you believe every single story you hear.”

  “But not every story can be true.” Alastar bit into the bread and chewed, then chased it with a gulp of apple cider. “Some talk of dragons, even of men and women who walked in the night and fed on blood. You have to draw the line somewhere.”

  “Indeed,” Volney said, with a glint of humor in his eyes.

  “You’re not telling me something,” Alastar said, eyes narrowed.

  “Perhaps. But perhaps whatever I might tell you would only serve to throw more doubt into your mind.”

  Alastar shook his head and stood. “You’re an odd one, there’s no denying that fact, at least. Instead of sitting here and listening to your gibberish, I think I’ll find myself a bath.”

  “A well needed one at that,” Volney said with a wink and a hand wave in front of his nose.

  “Yes, well, shall I apologize for being a man?”

  “If all men here stink as you do, I’d think Roneland will face a population problem at some point.”

  “A true comedian.” Alastar turned to the various passages. “One who knows where the baths would be, I hope?”

  Volney pointed him in the right direction, and Alastar was glad to be done with him. Still, what he said certainly warranted consideration. If magic had truly been the cure to the Age of Madness, everything he had been raised to believe would be thrown into the gutters with the rest of the sewage.

  He wondered what the High Paladin would have to say about all of this—if he was still alive.

  He soon found the room where they had brought in hot water, anticipating his desire. Once alone, he stripped and lowered himself into the tub with a long sigh of relief. The last time it had felt this good to take a bath had been after a raid, his first, when he had nearly been killed. His brother in arms, Sir Taland, had stepped in to defend him then, blocking a burst of flame with his shield of light, taking down the fire mage with his sword.

  Ever since that moment, Alastar had been intent on spiritual study, so that he would never again have to rely on a fellow paladin’s defense to save his life.

  Now, he had much bigger worries than himself—there was no denying that his sister was a witch, or some form of magic user.

  If there was one fact he was certain of, it was that his sister was in no way evil. Unfortunately, there was no way the other paladins
would ever see it that way.

  So, the question was what to do next.

  He leaned back so that his head rested on the edge of the tub, and closed his eyes. As it seemed to him, they could disappear and never be seen again. That seemed the easiest option, but also the cowardly one. The oath he had sworn in the castle could not be ignored—he was duty bound to serve the Order of Rodrick and bring peace to this land.

  But maybe there was some room for maneuvering within that vow. Would going after the Sword of Light in any way violate it? He didn’t think so. What mattered now was retrieving the sword so that he could unite the paladins and bring this land to peace.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, when he sensed a presence. A warmth came over him, and he felt hands running across his body, but when he came spluttering up, he saw no hands—only a warm glow of light moving across his body.

  Estair stood in the entryway, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing. “I’d come closer, but wouldn’t want to spoil your innocence,” she said and then pretended to crane her neck for a peek.

  “What… was that?” he asked, and then ran his hand through the golden light that hadn’t left him.

  “Once you embrace that this isn’t some blessing from a saint, but actual magic, you’ll find it much more malleable.”

  “Is that so?” He sat straight, only then realizing he hadn’t thought about ensuring he had a towel, or even clean clothes, for that matter.

  “Don’t worry.” Estair motioned behind her, and a young woman entered carrying both. “You’d be surprised how well prepared we clansfolk can be.”

  The young woman set the clothes down beside the tub and then held out the towel for Alastar. He expected them both to leave, but neither did. With a frown, he accepted the towel and stood with his rear to them as he dried.

  “She has a gift, your sister,” Estair said, ignoring the nudity. “You realize that now, correct?”

  “I do.” He glanced over his shoulder as he wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped from the tub. “But I’m still trying to figure out how to process it.”

  She nodded, and he noticed her eyes move across his abs. The other woman was looking at him, too, and he frowned.

  “Is this how all of you always are?” he asked. “A man bathes, and you come for the show?”

  “You can leave,” Estair said to the other woman, then laughed. “Just my idea of teasing a paladin. You’re the first we’ve had, honestly. It’s quite fun.”

  “And if I were to simply drop my towel here and take you up on your offer?”

  She blushed, but shrugged.

  He saw it as the bluff it was, but had his dignity and respect for a woman, so instead kept the towel on and bent down to pick up the clothes he’d been brought.

  “These… are the clothes of a clansman,” he said, standing and holding up the black pants and tunic.

  “At least it’s not a kilt,” she said, and then turned her back to him.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  “Simply giving you privacy while you change.”

  “Wow, so you are capable of decency.” He said as he slipped into the pants. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “It’s all relative,” she said, turning back as he finished pulling the shirt down. “Compared to the ladies of the court, or even the paladin castles, I imagine I’m downright scandalous. But compared to some of the women you’ll meet in the highlands… I’m a kitten.”

  “A kitten?”

  “I’ll purr and play with a ball, but I’m hardly in heat.”

  He just shook his head at that and said, “Wow, okay. Wow.”

  She laughed and said, “Come, let’s get you supplied and get on our way.”

  “You really mean to come with us then?”

  She nodded, but they were just out the door when she froze at the sound of a low whistle. He turned to ask what that was, but her expression told enough. Her eyes were wild, her lips pulled back into a snarl as if she were about to attack.

  “We’re under attack,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “The mystics will know,” she said and nodded for him to follow. They ran through the tunnels until they were back in the dining area, where Rhona, Donnon, and the two mystics waited.

  A second later, Lokane entered. He had a broadsword strapped to his back and held a second sword that he tossed to Estair.

  It was only then that Alastar noticed Larick’s white eyes.

  “What’s he doing?” Rhona asked, only giving Alastar’s odd clothing a sideways glance.

  “Scouting,” Lokane said, pointing above.

  A moment later the mystic’s eyes returned to normal, only they were wide with fear. “It’s them, the sorcerers. I don’t know how, but your base has been discovered and is under siege.

  9

  Rhona stumbled back, a piercing pain shooting through her head as the trees surrounding her vanished and were replaced with images of their attackers.

  Arms wrapped around her. A voice asked if she was feeling ill, but then the pain came again, flashes of red and black with their faces—snarling, evil faces. One stood out from the others—a man with long, blond hair, his eyes white.

  When the images stopped, she realized it had all been a vision.

  It was Donnon who held her, Estair nearby now with her eyes glowing gold. A flash of light crossed between Rhona and the ceiling like a shimmer across a pond, and then Estair’s eyes returned to normal.

  “That should hold them from doing more of… whatever that was,” Estair said, then turned and shouted. “All hands, into the tunnels!”

  “What’s the plan?” Alastar asked, being sure to first cast a glance in Donnon’s direction that made it clear he was to get his hands off of Rhona.

  “Can we fight them?” Donnon asked, glancing at the torches nearby.

  “And send this whole place up in flames?” Estair shook her head. “Can you imagine a tunnel full of fire? Anyone without your powers would be burnt to a crisp.”

  “What do you propose then?”

  Estair licked her lip as she eyed them all. “As much as I hate to say it, we retreat. Move to a fighting position in the hills and then, if they’re still on our tails, we stand our ground.”

  “The fortress of Stirling ought to hold,” Lokane said. “Make it so.”

  With a wave of her hand, Estair led the way through one of the tunnels.

  “Fortress of Stirling?” Volney asked.

  “An old castle on a cliff,” Alastar answered. “One from the old days, even before the Age of Madness, if you can believe it. Partially destroyed, but rebuilt stronger than ever by the clans. It’s one of the only locations this far south they’ve been able to hold, well, or so we thought.” He gestured at their surroundings. “It seems there was a lot we were unaware of.”

  “If we go there and they find out my brother’s a paladin,” Rhona said to Estair, “they’ll see him burned alive. Can you guarantee his safety there?”

  “As a paladin?” She shook her head. “It’s as you say, with some of the clans. Others, such as ours, less so. Which is why, Alastar, you must do your best to say nothing remotely paladin-like while we’re there.”

  Rhona could tell by the flash of anger in his eyes that the request wasn’t well received, and she knew why. This was tantamount to blasphemy as far as the Order of Rodrick was concerned. But didn’t he understand that such a way of thinking was quickly being disproven? He had to see it this way because otherwise, it meant he still saw her in a way she could never accept.

  “If we even make it to the fortress,” Lokane said as they turned down a dark tunnel they were only able to see by the glow of Estair’s spell. She held her hand out in front like a torch, light emanating from it softly.

  “I’m glad for your eternal optimism,” Estair said with a glare.

  Lokane nodded, glancing around at the men and women who were piling in from various tunnels and joining them as th
ey made the retreat.

  “Don’t do what I think you’re considering,” Estair said. “It’s best to stick together.”

  “It’d be best to see that as many of us make it to the Fortress of Stirling as possible.”

  “Not at the risk of their leader’s life,” she argued.

  He seemed to consider for a moment, then said, “And yet, a leader must be willing to make these decisions.” With that, he broke off from the main group and whistled. Men and women from the group wearing a darker green than the rest broke off to join him.

  “His personal guard and our most elite fighting force,” Estair explained as they continued to hurry along, noticing Rhona’s glance back. “They’ll move to another location to distract and hold off the attack.”

  “He’d sacrifice himself for our safety?” Rhona asked.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. These sorcerers, they’re not ours, and they’d see us burn as fast as they’d kill your brother and take you for your magic.”

  “And the other paladins?” Rhona asked as they ran.

  “They will be dealt with in their own time.”

  Each turn sent Rhona’s heart into a new flutter until she was sure it was going to explode if this didn’t end soon. If it weren’t for the fact that she was surrounded by mages, two mystics, and her brother, she would have likely curled up into a ball right there. Except, then there was the fact that she was now somehow performing incredibly powerful magic, too. She wasn’t sure how it happened exactly, but she knew that, so far, when she was backed into a corner it had come to her aid.

  In fact, she realized, those bastards had better stay the hell out of her way.

  When they turned into a wider passage that led out into daylight, she was smiling, almost hoping they would run into trouble, so that she could see the sorcerers get their butts kicked.

  That didn’t help her nerves, though, when they crested the incline and found a small army of crazed looking men standing before them. Their eyes were wide and wild, their arms muscular, and they held crude weapons that included everything from metal spikes, crude swords that were chipped and worn, to hatchets, and even pitchforks.