The Mage Trials

by Charles Cackler

  The door behind him slammed open with a crash and a figure in black-and-red armor stormed past him. Sachiel, he vaguely realized through a growing haze, her Sacrelith fully activated and sword drawn. She whipped her head about, surveying the room only for her black-helmeted gaze to land on the fallen assassin.

  She let out a groan. “Damn it, Dalmarn, I was hoping to interrogate the man.”

  “Oh, my sincerest apologies, Miss Licourt,” Dalmarn drawled, “the next time I am nearly killed, rather than focus on defending myself, I shall remember what is truly important: preserving my opponent’s life.”

  She snorted. “I’d rather have you alive, regardless of what sarcasm comes out of you. Did you find out anything about who sent him?”

  “No, and if you don’t mind, it might be best if we help that boy before he joins the assassin in the afterlife.”

  Turning to see Rian’s robes reddening with blood, Sachiel tore them open with quick, sure movements. Beneath them, the spot where the assassin had struck didn’t ooze, it poured out blood.

  Immediately, she pressed her hand to the bleeding gash and said, “My apologies but this is going to hurt a bit.”

  He opened his mouth to ask why before shrieking as pure agony erupted from his side, a searing fire that burned and scalded everything it touched.

  The only solace was that it lasted for but seconds before it lessened, the torment dying down to something that was still one of the worst pains he’d ever felt but no longer the stuff of nightmares. Now, rather than a gushing wound, his side was a mess of maggot-white and a shiny apple red. Hideous to behold, but no more blood flowed from him.

  Sachiel let out a relieved sigh, allowing her armor to melt into shards of flame before it disappeared entirely. Sheathing her sword, she shot a guilty look at him. “Sorry, I know it’s a miserable experience, but I wasn’t sure that anything else would be enough. How are you feeling?”

  He didn’t actually manage to say anything, but somehow, he suspected that falling flat on his back and clutching himself while sobbing conveyed his answer perfectly well.

  “He’s probably wishing you’d let the assassin finish the job,” Dalmarn said dryly, “just like everyone else who had to experience your ‘caring attention’. Now, get some wine and I will dress his wounds.”

  “Healing... ward?” gasped Rian.

  “I actually am rather skilled in the healing arts. I just prefer not to. Now, hold still.” He smirked. “And yes, this will hurt too.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dalmarn was as good as his word. Albeit rather painfully, through applying various herbs as well as a few spells, Rian’s cauterized wound began to look a little shallower, and the red and black surrounding it began to lighten a smidge.

  With a pleased smirk, Dalmarn capped a jar of some sort of ointment and said, “Well, you won’t fully recover within a few hours, or even today, but rest assured, you will still be inflicting us with your presence long into the future. Don’t expect that to be inside my quarters though.”

  Indeed, he was atop Dalmarn’s own bed at present, where he had lain while the man performed his work.

  The room was perhaps the size of the bedroom the academy had allotted Rian, but where his room was adorned with furnishings to make the room appear extravagant, Dalmarn’s had more of a functional bent to it. Beside the bed was a writing desk almost the same size, covered in neatly-piled papers and scrolls. Alongside it was a bookshelf as laden by spellbooks and treatises of magical theory as the one in Rian’s own home.

  Yet hidden in the opposite corner was an easel, above which two charcoal drawings hung. Each had Dalmarn in the center, if perhaps broader of shoulder and taller than the man who’d led them up to this room. One drawing had what might have been a younger Sachiel and another woman beside him, but the features were indistinct and faded, and only the grumping glower on the man’s face was familiar.

  The other portrait though... it was also of three people, but the feel couldn’t have been more different. On the left was a freckle-faced woman with her hair tied back into a bun and splotches on her apron, bearing an amused smile as she observed the two beside her while on the right was a messy-haired boy who waved about a toy sword and whose grin was infectious, even though the drawing’s medium. Between them was Dalmarn. He bore no robes, just a plain peasant’s shirt and his pants were splattered with mud, yet he wrapped the boy in a fierce, one-armed hug, a smile on his face the likes of which he had never seen upon the man.

  Rian was no artist, but every detail in that portrait was alive to the point he could imagine himself there. His face flushed. This was private, not meant for him. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the man who had drawn these and bowed. “Thank you, sir. I will remember your actions this day.”

  “Of course you will...” Dalmarn’s rolled eyes showed what he thought of his sincerity. “Still, I suppose that has its own value. If you might aid us, Sachiel and I have a couple questions about what happened.” He leaned closer. “While I could hear little due to the wayward furniture piled atop me, you might have heard a bit more. Were you able to glean anything from our attacker?”

  “No, but I knew who sent him before he arrived.” Rian grimaced. “I did not intend to get you involved in this, sir, in all honesty.”

  Dalmarn blinked and tilted his head, peering at him curiously. He didn’t angrily retort nor say it was of little importance. No, he looked at Rian as if he wasn’t quite sure he had heard him correctly.

  “You… involved me?” the man asked slowly.

  “Yes, and I am sorry for it. Another noble family, the Gazifs, is hunting me down because of a marriage match and hired the assassin to -”

  Dalmarn interrupted, “An interesting theory, but there is one problem with it: these were not our first encounters with this assassin.”

  “- kill me and… Come again?”

  “What Dalmarn is trying to explain,” Sachiel said softly, “is they weren’t hunting him because of you. They were hunting you because of us.”

  He could only stare at them at first before he burst out laughing. When they didn’t join in, he coughed, “I apologize, but I am afraid that makes little sense. Every chance he got, the assassin tried to kill me. There was a motive, an opportunity and the Gazif family certainly had the means. The one time I left the academy, someone followed me. My family and I even located the money they would have used to pay for it. If I had any more evidence, I could go to a Gazif judge and have them convict themselves!”

  Despite his words, Sachiel gave him a look of purest guilt and started to pace. “Let me first say this: I am truly sorry that you were ever put in danger. Here’s what happened: I am searching for a man by the name of Heldot Sharlin. He’s a criminal and a former member of the Crimson Order, who abandoned it after the previous king’s death to follow a path of violence and bloodshed. Many of the sellswords and bandits who have caused trouble to the east are at his beck and call, and I fear he plans worse, a campaign of conquest, but I’ve been unable to stop him myself. That’s why I came here, seeking the help of an old friend,” She nodded to Dalmarn, “both because of his prowess and skill… and that every other person I had come to for aid had been killed.”

  “A brilliant plan, of course, nearly getting me killed by the same man,” Dalmarn growled.

  “I had nowhere else to turn!” Sachiel cried out, her voice having the frustrated air of someone who had gone over the same exact argument several times before, “Had I any other option, I would have taken it, but I didn’t and Heldot needs to be stopped…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “None of that matters now though. The point is, with every other person I had already turned to dead by his hands, the assassin was aiming to finish the job before I could get Dalmarn’s aid. He attacked us in the corridors because he thought with me aiding you I would be too distracted to protect myself.”

  Rian could only shake his head. “But the moment he got between you and me, he tried to kill m
e!”

  “He only did that in order to escape. The moment he cast his spell, he retreated. He wanted me to choose between protecting you and capturing him.”

  “That could be the case, but the one time I attempted to leave the academy, I was followed. You do not do that if someone is a mere incidental target.”

  “Except that wasn’t him,” she said. “I was the one following you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Not out of ill intent,” Sachiel quickly reassured him, before continuing. “I knew that this assassin was after me and the ones I had asked to aid me, but it seemed possible that he might have thought it was you and not Dalmarn I sought. Dalmarn has been a friend for a long time, but I talked with you before your Second Trial, was behind closed doors with you during it, then escorted you to the Healing Ward afterward, before being the one who saw you first when you woke up. Then you came to visit me after your recovery. To a casual observer, it was entirely plausible to assume I had come to ask for your aid as a noble of House Miel. So while I doubted you were the target, I dared not rule it out completely for fear of throwing your life away, so I followed you to make sure you would be safe.”

  Rian digested this. It explained a lot. He had wondered how he and Alensia had so easily lost their pursuer on the way back to the academy. He’d chalked it up to their speed and the guards getting too close for the assassin to risk it, but if the person following them had been Sachiel, she would not have wanted to alarm them or risk a fight. “But if you thought I could have been a target then, what makes you so sure I was not the target today?”

  “A few reasons: that he did nothing when you left the academy and he ignored potential opportunities each time you had to stay in the healing ward both made it unlikely, but most of all, if you genuinely were the target, he never would have attacked you here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dalmarn laughed mockingly. “The reason is simple: me. I am many things, some perhaps less than pleasant, but the one thing I am most known for is my exploits in the Orc Wars. You were standing right next to the best bodyguard you could have asked for in his home territory. Targeting you here would have been utter foolishness.” He shook his head in amusement. “Conversely, if he were targeting me, his plan was both simple and effective: come in pretending to be a student, get me to drop my guard and take me out with either the bomb or his Sacrelith. It would have all gone perfectly save for the one thing he could not have predicted: that you were here begging me for help.”

  Rian bristled at the description but couldn’t deny Dalmarn’s point. With the benefit of hindsight, why would the assassin target him here when he could have easily ambushed him in the darkness before or after he left. They’re right. I wasn’t the target. But then...

  “That makes sense,” he said, before rounding on Sachiel, “but if this is all true, then why did you not tell me what was going on? I was terrified! I thought that any second I might die and we have spoken on several occasions. Surely you could have taken a few moments and at least told me your suspicions. Even if you were not certain at first, there must have been some point that you realized I was terrified for nothing!”

  She met his gaze and nodded, “It’s true, but there was a good reason for what I did. So long as you and your family thought the assassin was after you, there were more guards and better security, both from the academy itself as well as the Crimson Order. One of the new guards saw someone entering the catacombs tonight and let me know. It is why I’m here now… although I was admittedly a bit too late for the battle itself.” She smiled sheepishly. “If I had told you, that might not have happened, and perhaps the assassin would have dealt with Dalmarn without your unexpected intervention. I’m sorry for the worry you endured, as well as the danger you faced tonight but at the time I thought it was best. For what little it is worth, I would have notified you when you left.”

  He glared at her - he had no interest in being used - but at least the secrecy had apparently served some purpose. “So then, does this mean that it is all finished then? That I am safe?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Not yet anyway. By helping take out his assassin, you have interfered and Heldot will probably want you dealt with sooner or later.” She paused, considering. “Still, if you were to hide for a while and make no further moves against him, I imagine that he might move on eventually… or so I hope,” the way she mumbled out the last bit showed she didn’t believe either.

  “Those options are horrible. Either I die like the proverbial dog in the street or I hide for what might be the rest of my life. And it is all because of something I was never a part of in the first place.”

  Sachiel winced. “I’m sorry. If I’d thought this would happen -”

  His anger boiled over. “You would have what? Kept that a secret from me too? That is all you seem to be good at, you -”

  Dalmarn interrupted them both. “Or, instead of dying or hiding, you could take a third option.” He looked at Sachiel meaningfully before turning back to Rian. “The situation is dangerous but that very danger also presents an opportunity. If someone were to capture Heldot, it would provide an incredible service to Rasgor… one even a king would extol them for,” he smirked, “and Sachiel came here looking for someone with the skills of a mage...”

  Rian's heart stopped before pounding at the words. What he was implying… “So if that someone were to go with her and succeed…”

  “There would be no doubt as to their capability. Who would even bother asking such a person to complete the Mage Trials? They would be confirmed as a mage immediately.”

  Rian sucked in his breath. To hunt down a criminal whose subordinate had nearly taken his life with ease… the danger of such an endeavor was beyond telling, but at the same time, it gave him one last glittering chance to reach his dream when every door was closed to him. The only question was: did he dare take it?

  Sachiel’s thoughts took a different turn as she growled. “What exactly are you trying to do, Dalmarn? I would protect him to the best of my ability, but you know just how dangerous it is. Someone who hasn’t even managed to pass his Trials? Are you so keen to avoid the danger that you would send him to his death?”

  Dalmarn looked at Rian and sighed. “When it comes to combat skills, the boy is untalented, mediocre at best...”

  He resisted the urge to pout but he couldn’t help his glare. Yes, the battle with Alensia had been humiliating, but surely it wasn’t that bad.

  Perhaps ironically, it was Dalmarn himself who came to his defense, continuing with, “Yet he does have certain skills. He was the one to realize that the person coming into my chambers was the assassin and alerted me in a manner that was decently subtle, and he is certainly capable of coming up with creative solutions to the problems he faces, as you yourself pointed out during his Second Trial. Additionally, his skill with the non-combat forms of magic is apparently significant to the point that he tutored the very person who defeated him in the Third Trial.”

  She narrowed her eyes but seemed to be mulling it over. “All true, I suppose,” she said, reluctance dripping from every word, “but that still does not explain why I should go with him and not someone experienced like you.”

  “Motivation. I am not like you, full of youth and determination. I am old and tired. I fought my battles and want nothing more than to reap the fruits of my labors. This boy? Look at him.” He indicated Rian with a wave of his hand. “He knows the danger, he nearly died half an hour ago, and yet you can see how he’s still considering this all the same. He…” Dalmarn swallowed, “I look in his eyes and I see someone who wants nothing more than to get what he wants, who will face any danger and overcome any challenge to obtain it.”

  A snort escaped Sachiel. “I wonder where you might recognize that from,” She looked Rian over carefully, visibly weighing Dalmarn’s words before she finally nodded. “Very well, your lordship. Allow me to ask you: do you wish to join me on my hunt?”

&nb
sp; The world seemed to close in upon him. This was it; if he accepted, it would grant him the opportunity he had so desperately sought, yet he found himself unsure. He’d have to leave his family behind to go off on this quest, putting himself in the greatest of dangers. As much as he wanted to become a mage, could he really do that?

  ‘It’s all your fault.’

  Once more, his hesitation faded. He knew what he had to do. The risk was incredible but becoming a mage was his life’s dream. Nothing was of greater importance and, if he let this last chance go, he would regret it for the rest of his life. He had no choice.

  He met her gaze. “I have no wish to die, but if risking my life is my way to become a mage, then so be it. I will join you on this quest, Miss Licourt.”

  “Very well. We leave at dawn.”

  ***

  The corridors lightened, torches and shadows giving way to stained-glass windows as he made his way to the tower containing his quarters. Compared to a few days ago, the crowd had shrunk vastly, perhaps a quarter of it remaining. Almost all the ones still walking the corridors bore cloaks of white or blue though, like Alensia and unlike him. They looked at him strangely as they passed, and he couldn’t blame them. He certainly looked out of place.

  The journey was without incident. No further attackers, members of the Crimson Order, nor even guards accosted him, leaving him alone to make plans for his journey to come. There would be a few logistical issues, he anticipated - he would need a horse of his own, and it would be difficult to pack everything needed. His family would need to be informed, for certain.

  His mind was afire with possibility now. It was a dangerous path but his dream lived anew.

  Speaking of the man, Soren was there to meet him in their quarters with a face that was all too pale. An expression of relief passed over him before he narrowed his eyes, “Rian, you were supposed to be recovering! Where have you been?”

  Fighting an assassin and nearly dying, the more deadpan part of his mind replied. Instead of that, though, he stepped inside and said, “My apologies, but I needed to ask some questions.”