The Sorceress: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 3)

by James Eggebeen

  “No, Father, I have no idea.”

  “Let him in.” The baron waved at the guard.

  When Sulrad entered, he bowed his head, looked over at Rotiaqua, and smiled.

  “What is so urgent that you would disturb us while we are eating?” the baron demanded.

  “It is your daughter and her welfare that I have come to see you about this day, My Lord.”

  The baron looked over at Rotiaqua once more.

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  “What of my daughter’s welfare?”

  “My Lord. Perhaps it’s best if we speak privately.” He looked at Rotiaqua, then back to the baron.

  “Whatever you have to say about my daughter, you can say in front of her.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.” Sulrad smoothed his robes and stood up straight. “My Lord, I have discovered a wizard, here in the city. He’s been in contact with your daughter and your sister. He works in the stables. I currently have this wizard restrained in the temple and have been interrogating him. He has declined to answer my questions, but I was able to determine that he has had recent contact with your daughter.”

  Rotiaqua almost fainted. What had happened? Had Sulrad somehow interfered with Zhimosom’s travel spell? She tried not to let her emotions show on her face, but she was worried. She reached out to Zhimosom. He was alive, but his magic was muted and somehow distant, as if there was a wall between them. She pressed harder but was unable to connect.

  “What does this have to do with my daughter?” the baron was asking.

  “My Lord ... your daughter ...”

  “What of my daughter?” the baron asked.

  “I’m afraid ... that your daughter ... is a sorceress, My Lord. She’s the one who’s been helping the wizard.”

  The baron stood up. “A sorceress? What are you talking about?”

  “My Lord, your daughter has magic. I just felt her cast a spell. Even now. In this room. While we were talking. She reached out to the wizard I have taken captive.”

  Rotiaqua tensed up at the mention of magic. She raised the shield that she and Zhimosom had practiced but feared it was too late. How foolish could she be?

  “I’ll not hear of this.” Lerkela waved at the guard and pointed to Sulrad. “Throw this madman out of here.”

  “If I might be so bold.” Sulrad flicked his hand at Rotiaqua.

  Rotiaqua felt a blast of magic headed her way and acted instinctively. She hardened her shields just as the fireball impacted them and shattered into a brilliant shower of sparks that fell to the floor and died out. Anger flared up in her at the thought that Sulrad had tried to kill her in her own home before she realized that he had tricked her into revealing her powers.

  The baron looked at Rotiaqua. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Before she could speak, Sulrad said, “You see, My Lord? A sorceress, and quite strong too. She must have been practicing magic for quite some time to develop shields like the ones she carries. It is those shields that kept me from identifying her as a sorceress before today.”

  “Is this true?” The baron looked at Rotiaqua. He had that “no argument” look about him that Rotiaqua had come to recognize.

  Rotiaqua thought of the lies she might tell, but feared that there was little she could say to deny what her father had just witnessed. No point in trying. He wouldn’t believe her.

  “It’s true, Father. I’m a sorceress.” She straightened up and looked him in the eye.

  “How ... How long?” the baron sputtered.

  “A while.” Rotiaqua was not going to admit to anything more.

  She saw the rage descend on her father’s countenance. She wanted to tell him that there was nothing wrong with magic, but before she could speak, Sulrad was on his feet.

  “She must come to the temple for training, My Lord,” Sulrad said. “She needs to learn discipline ... and restraint.”

  The baron folded his arms across his chest. He shot Rotiaqua a look of disappointment. Clearly, she had hurt him. But would he actually allow this? Would he let Sulrad take her to the temple?

  “You know how I feel about wizards,” the baron said. “Sulrad has agreed to train and restrain them in my realm. He will be able to teach you how to control your power and how to use it properly.”

  Lerkela laid a hand on the baron’s arm. “Are you sending your daughter away?”

  “As a wizard, she’s disqualified from the rights of royalty. She cannot rule or marry anyone who might rule one day.”

  “You can’t just send her away like that. She’s your daughter.”

  “She’s not my daughter any longer. She’s a traitor.”

  “But ...”

  Before Lerkela could say another word, the baron turned to Rotiaqua. “You ... are no longer my daughter. Go with him. He will keep you out of trouble.”

  “Reik!” Lerkela pleaded. “Don’t do this.”

  Rotiaqua felt her face go flush. Go with Sulrad? Her father had no idea what the man was doing. How could he hand her over to one such as that?

  “Father, surely you cannot mean that,” Rotiaqua begged. “You have no idea what he has been up to. He’s evil. Vile. You cannot simply hand me over to him.”

  The baron grunted. “He’s shown restraint. He uses his magic only for the good of the realm. You need to learn to do the same.” He stood and turned his back on his daughter.

  “Father, I beg of you. Do not decide this now.” Rotiaqua knew that if her father had some time to think it over, he’d probably change his mind. Once he’d decided something, though, he would rarely reverse a decision.

  “I’ve made up my mind. You go with him.” The baron waved his hand in dismissal. Without turning back, he stormed out of the room.

  “Please.” Rotiaqua reached out for Lerkela, but her aunt withdrew from her touch, turning her head away.

  “Don’t let him take me,” Rotiaqua said. “He’s evil.”

  Lerkela shook her head and turned her back.

  Sulrad reached out and took Rotiaqua’s hand. “You will grow to like the temple. Perhaps even love it. I am building a great and powerful organization and you will be the first beside me.”

  Rotiaqua pulled away from his grasp.

  She started after her father to beg him to reconsider, but before she took a step, the guards grabbed her.

  “You heard the baron,” Sulrad told the guards. “Take her to the temple. See that you do not harm her.”

  Sulrad turned back to Rotiaqua and made motions in the air with his hands.

  The spell wrapped around her like a velvet rope. As its shimmering coils enveloped her, her will drained away. She no longer wished to fight.

  Rotiaqua was taken to a comfortable chamber in the temple and left alone. She tried the door and found it unlocked, but a spell kept her from walking out. Sulrad had put an enchantment on her that sapped her will and kept her docile. She tried to break the spell, but she didn’t have the willpower to focus long enough on the task. Finally, frustrated and exhausted, she fell into a troubled sleep.

  The next morning, Sulrad came to see her. “I trust you slept well?” he asked.

  “I slept, but I would have slept well if I had slept in my own bed.” Rotiaqua tried to fight his control as much as possible. Even this small step toward independent thought made her feel that there was hope of breaking free.

  “This is your bed now.” He waved his hand. “You have everything you need right here. You heard what your father said. You are no longer a royal. This is your new life. You will come to love it here. What I am building is grand and glorious. We will heal the sick and infirm. We will help countless people using my magic, and yours. Can you not see the good in that?”

  “All the while, you are taking the golds from the wealthy and turning away the poor who need your help the most,” she said. “How can you call that doing good?”

  “Everything costs golds. Nothing comes free, not even healing. How do you think I power my healing spells?
From my own reserves?” He sat on the edge of the bed and faced her. “If I used my own reserves to heal the sick, I would soon be impoverished and be unable to help anyone. I take power where I can to drive my spells. Surely you don’t expect me to heal others at a cost to myself?”

  “I know where you get your power.” Rotiaqua recalled Zhimosom’s description of the sacrifice of the young girl, Brill.

  “There must be a balance. In order to save a life, one must be given. It’s not as if the small folk have much of a life. Their existence is short and full of pain and hunger. They don’t have a great deal to lose. By helping those able to pay, I can build a temple that will stand forever and continue the good I start long after I am gone. Think it over. I can keep you under this spell for as long as it takes to make up your mind. Join me in this. Together we can spread the truth of Ran to the whole world.”

  He left her to ponder his words.

  It was difficult to form her own thoughts, but eventually, she managed an idea. Zhimosom. He would know what to do. She gathered her magic to her and reached out to him. It was difficult, but she was able to contact him.

  He was in a cell near her, sitting on a stone bench. He was chained to the wall. There was no enchantment on the cell that restrained him, but he seemed unable to fight back, just as she was.

  “Where are you?” Zhimosom asked.

  “I’m in the temple, locked in a room.”

  “What happened? How did you get here?”

  “My father disowned me and handed me over to Sulrad,” she said.

  “Why did your father do that?”

  “Sulrad came to see us at midday. He told my father that he had captured you. I tried to contact you to see if it was true, but you were blocked. Sulrad must have felt my magic, because he threw a fireball at me. When I defended myself, my father got angry and handed me over to him.”

  “How could your own father just send you away like that?” Zhimosom asked. “How about Lerkela?”

  “She doesn’t agree with Father, but she won’t argue with him. When he makes up his mind, he won’t go back. It’s a point of honor for him. I won’t get any help from him.”

  “Can you escape? Are you locked in?” Zhimosom asked.

  “I’m in a regular room, but it’s enchanted, so I can’t leave it. Sulrad has put some type of spell on me to keep me from trying to escape. I don’t know how to break it.”

  “We have to get out of the temple and away from your father’s lands. We can’t wait. We have to find a way to defeat Sulrad,” Zhimosom said. “He’s gaining strength every day. I can feel the magic in him. It’s a mixture of those he’s killed, and something more.”

  “What do you mean, more?” Rotiaqua was not as attuned to magic as Zhimosom was. He was younger, but his power was growing more quickly than her own.

  “He has accessed something that’s not human,” Zhimosom said. “It’s powerful and magic. I sense more than just a life force in him. He’s taking magic from something else. He’s creating a store for it in the temple, so that he can draw on it. I’m not sure how he’s doing it, but if he keeps it up, we will never be able to defeat him.”

  “I tried to access it myself,” Zhimosom continued. “It felt wrong, as if the magic were contaminated or corrupted. As if it would infect me with its evil if I tried to use it. I can feel it in Sulrad too. He’s tainted by it, as if his whole being has been corrupted.”

  “Stay away from it,” Rotiaqua said. “You don’t want to end up like that. He’s trying to convince me to join him. He speaks of healing and helping, but freely admits to taking the life of those he considers unworthy. I heard him talking with my father. All he really wants is to build the temple to gain riches and control the wealthy. Father agrees with him, since that is his desire too. They make a great pair.”

  “We have to find a way to defeat him before he kills me,” Zhimosom said. “He killed Brill to take her life’s energy. He won’t hesitate to take my magic. We have to get out of here.”

  “Think hard on it,” Rotiaqua said. “You can come up with something.”

  She was so exhausted that she simply let the connection fade.

  It didn’t look good for Zhimosom.

  Just as she released the connection, Sulrad entered her room unannounced. He sat on the bed beside her. “There will be a sacrifice tonight. I want you to come and observe.”

  Her flesh crawled at his words. She felt the corruption in him now. She had to get away. She tried to raise enough resistance to say no, but all she could manage was a slight wiggle of her head.

  Sulrad laughed. “It will be educational. You will learn how we can heal the sick and provide for the people you care so much about. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  He stood. “I have a wizard to sacrifice tonight. I have discovered an ancient spell that can bind the magic of a dying wizard into the stones in the altar. I can store almost infinite power in the temple that way. Then we really can heal anyone without suffering a loss of personal magic.”

  Rotiaqua panicked. Was it Zhimosom he planned to sacrifice?

  She had to warn him.

  “I see. You’re still in contact with your stable boy. Maybe this will help you forget him.”

  Sulrad waved his hands in the air above her.

  A green fog descended on her. Things grew dark.

  Rotiaqua barely noticed as Sulrad guided her head to the pillow and released her.

  Darkness took her.

  Sulrad came for her early that evening. “It’s almost time.”

  He guided her along plain and unadorned corridors to the altar room. The place where she had seen him making sacrifices so often. The place where he had murdered Brill. Was Zhimosom going to be there too? She felt a surge of confidence. If they were together, in the same room, surely they could join their power and defeat Sulrad. Perhaps there was hope yet.

  As they entered the altar room, Rotiaqua felt a strange concentration of power. There was something else in the room that felt like a wizard, only it was muddy and indistinct, a mixture of magic from more than one source.

  “I see you can feel it, too. Can’t you?” Sulrad led her to the back of the room. “Wait here while I go get the sacrifice.”

  He left her standing there and departed.

  A beam of sunlight was working its way across the wall, marking the progress of the setting sun. The time for the sacrifice was near.

  Rotiaqua felt around the room and located the source of magic. It was deep inside the altar. She tried to access it. It was something she had advised Zhimosom not to do, but she was desperate. The power felt wrong, muddy, and impure. As she touched it, a sense of evil grew in her. It was as if the altar was laughing at her, taunting her to take the power and embrace it.

  She knew that if she did, something inside of her would be forever changed.

  She shied away from it.

  She reached out to contact Zhimosom once more, but she could not.

  She feared the worst.

  She had just decided to wait and see, when the door opened and Sulrad entered, leading a young boy. Rotiaqua was relieved to see that it was not Zhimosom, but ashamed at her reaction. The boy was set to be the sacrifice. How could she ever see that as a relief? She had to do something, but even as she struggled to form the words, the spell Sulrad had used on her grew stronger. It was as if it reacted to her thoughts to keep her in subservience.

  Sulrad led the boy to the altar and laid him on his back. He tied him to the cold stone and leaned over him. He spoke words that Rotiaqua could not make out, and the boy came awake as if from a spell.

  He looked at Rotiaqua and then Sulrad. “What’s happening?”

  “Confess,” Sulrad demanded of the boy.

  “Confess what?”

  “Who sent you? Who taught you shields? Why are they trying to kill me? Are you in league with Amedon? Zhimosom? Tell me.”

  “Never,” the boy said.

  “Maybe a bit of pain.” Rotiaqua fe
lt the spell as Sulrad raised pain and pressed it onto the boy. What was he doing? Why torture the boy like this? He already knew about Zhimosom, so why demand the boy confess? For what?

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “There is nothing to say.”

  Again, Sulrad’s magic flared. Again, the boy clenched his muscles against the pain.

  Without warning, Sulrad seized the sky iron knife from the statue and plunged it into the boy’s throat.

  A bright cloud of magic arose from the boy. It separated from him as Sulrad channeled some of it into the altar, but some, Sulrad drew into himself.

  Sulrad’s power surged, then ebbed. He was almost powerless as he integrated the boy’s magic into his own.

  Rotiaqua grasped the opportunity.

  She reached out to Zhimosom, breaking the spell Sulrad had cast on him.

  She drew Zhimosom’s power for her own use and broke the spell of compliance that Sulrad had placed on her. She rushed to build a new spell of her own that would make Sulrad believe his spell was still in place.

  She did all this while Sulrad was occupied with taking the boy’s power.

  The magic aura around the boy and the altar weakened, and the boy’s body disappeared in a shower of sparks. The sparks turned into a cloud of golden dust motes, swirling in the single sunbeam, and then they too wafted away in the evening air.

  Sulrad stood there basking in his renewed power, laughing. “That is how we get the power to do the healing that will draw the faithful and keep them coming back. Even the most powerful wizard can heal only once or twice in a moon if they reserve all their power for it. My priesthood will be able to heal the faithful at will. And in return, the faithful will supply all our needs. Gold. Sacrificial animals. Offerings. Gifts. And most of all, young wizards.”

  Rotiaqua’s heart fell. The boy was the one who’d been brought to the temple by his family when they discovered he had magic. Sulrad had promised to train the boy, but instead, he took his magic. He was a liar and a thief.

  She would have her revenge, but not now. Now was not the time. She had discovered his weakness. She would wait. Pretend to be subservient, then, when the time was right, she would act. She reached out to Zhimosom. He’d also felt the weakening of Sulrad’s power, just as she had. He’d used that opportunity to build a shielded bridge that they could use to contact each other, even under Sulrad’s watchful eye. The resistance had begun.