Death Mage's Curse

by Jon Bender

  Death Mage’s Curse

  Jonathan Bender

  The Death Mage Series

  Death Mage’s Ascent

  Death Mage’s Fury

  Death Mage’s Curse

  Copyright © 2016 By Jonathan Bender

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Chase.

  I am so proud to call you my son. Even though we argue often, it shows me that you will be your own man someday. A day I look forward to seeing.

  The Fifteen Kingdoms

  Chapter 1

  He awoke in the dank cell. Torches outside the iron bars provided only a thin light. He sometimes wished his jailors would leave him in complete darkness, so he could not see how wretched his condition had become. His once kempt blond hair and beard were matted and greasy, his fine clothes torn covered in filth. His sword and armor had been stripped from him when he had been captured, along with the two whispering stones. Thankfully, the soldiers who had taken the enchanted rings thought them worthless and tossed them, along with his armor, into the river. Alimar would be upset at their loss, since he did not know how to create more, but at least they had not fallen into his captor’s hands.

  His cell was nothing more than a hole carved into the stone floor of the castle from which moisture constantly seeped. He had nothing but a wooden bucket to relieve himself in and a wet floor to sleep on, when he could sleep. Periodically, his captors replaced the bucket and the battered wooden bowl in which they served him pasty gruel. His only source of water came from the jagged wall, where he had to place the bowl under a sharp protrusion to collect the moisture that dripped down. The foul liquid tasting of mold and spider webs.

  He did not know how long he had been there. The guards did not seem to bring the gruel on any type of schedule, only when they remembered him. He sometimes felt as if an entire season had passed, but from his sleep pattern, he guessed it was more than a ten-day since he had last seen light. The isolation and silence were beginning to get to him, and he spent most of his time traveling his memories of better days.

  A familiar banging from down the hall alerted him that the guards were coming, he assumed, to take the bucket and deliver another bowl of gruel. Then he noticed that something was different. Instead of two sets of footsteps approaching his cell, he heard three. A torch came into view and he was momentarily blinded by the close proximity of the bright light. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the two men who had been “tending” him, and a third, older man in regal red robes, a silver crown atop greying black hair.

  “Hello, Corin,” Alexar said.

  “What do you want?” he rasped, his voice raw from lack of use.

  “I am here to take you to better accommodations,” the King of Bruxa said with a smirk.

  “You betrayed me, took me against my will, and dropped me in this pit. Now, I get better accommodations?” Corin said, unable able to stop a laugh from escaping.

  Alexar spread his hands and smiled as if sharing the joke. “I thought it best if you understood your situation right away. I can put you here whenever I choose. Behave yourself, and there will be no need for you to go through this again. I would much prefer to have you in good condition when your people arrive. It will keep them from acting… rashly.”

  “My people?” he asked, confused.

  “They will arrive come spring to deliver tribute. While here, they will want to see that you are in good health.”

  “You mean they are coming to deliver your ransom and see that I am still alive,” Corin said with scorn.

  “Either way, they will be less motivated to attempt a rescue if they find you clean and well fed.”

  Corin wanted to scream at the man, but he held his tongue. Jaxom and Celia were coming for him. And perhaps these “new accommodations” would provide him opportunities to escape. When Corin remained silent, Alexar waved at one of the guards. The brutish jailor with greasy hair pulled a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door. Corin considered attacking the men then, but both guards carried short swords, and the king had a long ornamental dagger tucked behind his belt. If he was fast enough, though, perhaps he could take Alexar hostage. The thought quickly passed as he realized he would not likely get far. The king of Bruxa had thousands of men and likely dozens of mages at his disposal.

  “If you will follow me,” Alexar said, turning on his heel and heading back down the corridor.

  The two jailors trailed him the entire way to the entrance of the dungeon, where four men in red livery and chainmail replaced them. When the four heavily armored men took over his escort, Corin silently congratulated himself on making the right decision. From there, he was led up to the ground level and through a large chamber filled with people going about their business. Every person stopped what they were doing to bow to Alexar and watch the procession. The small group arrived at another set of spiraling stairs, at the top of which was a small landing with chairs and a table. The short hall connected to the landing was lined with heavy doors secured by iron crossbars. Standing next to one of the doors was a woman a few years younger than Corin wearing a simple white dress with large pockets on the front. Her long black hair was tied back in a bun, but he could not get a good look at her face as she kept her eyes on the floor. When they approached, she curtsied as a soldier lifted the crossbar and opened the door next to her.

  “Your new home, for the foreseeable future,” Alexar said, waving his hand grandly at the entrance.

  Inside, Corin saw a simple bed against the opposite wall with a small barred window above it. A round wooden tub on four legs stood at the center of the room, and the only other furniture was a wardrobe propped against the far wall and a small washstand tucked into a corner. “It will do. From the sparseness of your guestroom, I can see why you are so desperate for the ransom.”

  Alexar laughed. “You share many of your father’s more insufferable qualities, but I must say, you have a far better sense of humor.”

  Corin tried to hide his surprise. Alexar was first person to appreciate his jokes, and he was going to kill the man the first chance he got. It almost seemed a waste.

  “Four of my men will be stationed at the end of the hall. You will be allowed one hour a day to walk about my home under their supervision, and Eleanor here will be tending to your needs.”

  Corin stepped into the room to get a better look at his new cell. It was miles better than the last, but a prison all the same. He looked closely at the window. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

  “Until I have achieved my goals. Then, we will see. Also, I would not try the window. Even if you could get past the bars, the fall will kill you. I had them put in place some time ago after another guest decided that he preferred death to my hospitality.”

  “I can’t imagine why. You seem the most cordial of hosts.”

  Alexar chuckled. “I do believe I will enjoy your company. But if you try to escape or harm my men, things will not go well for you. Whatever your imagination can conjure up, I promise, I can do far worse.” His tone slipped seamlessly from jovial to menacing.

  Corin turned and faced him. Squaring his shoulders, he stared hard into Alexar’s emotionless eyes. He finally understood what type of man he was dealing with. The king of Bruxa was mad. “I make you this offer. Release me now, and I will not retaliate. I will leave your kingdom to you as long as you make no outwardly aggressive act. If you persist in keeping me here, I will have you publicly executed before your own people.”

  Alexar’s smile never reached his eyes.
“I am afraid I must decline your generous offer.”

  “Very well. If that is all, Your Majesty, I would very much like to bathe.”

  “Of course. I will leave you for now,” Alexar said, as the soldiers followed him out.

  They left the door open. Corin leaned out to see where the four guards had taken places at the landing. The young woman, Eleanor, had not moved from the spot where he had first seen her. “I could use some water and soap, and I don’t think they will let me get it myself.”

  “No, Your Majesty. You are not permitted to leave. I will fetch anything you require as long as the soldiers allow it. When you are finished with me for the day, your door will be locked,” she said hurriedly, never looking up.

  “You know who I am?”

  “Everyone knows who you are, Your Majesty.”

  Corin masked his surprise. He had assumed that Alexar would want to minimize Corin’s contact with the people. When they had met, the king of Bruxa had causally mentioned torturing his own people to find the dark god’s agents. These people lived in fear. Perhaps Alexar thought there was no chance of his subjects helping a foreign king and risking his wrath. “May I have some water and soap then?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, curtsying.

  After the young woman left, Corin examined the room. No matter what Alexar threatened, Corin could not just sit here waiting to be rescued. Moving to the window, he gripped the cold bars tightly and gave them a firm tug. They did not give at all. In the wardrobe, he found only sets of plain brown pants and white shirts, folded neatly. With the exception of the bars, there was not a piece of metal in the room from which he could fashion a weapon. He could make a sort of club from the sparse furniture, but a piece of wood against four armored men would not be much use. Giving up for the time being, he waited for Eleanor to return. After several minutes, she entered the room carrying two buckets balanced on a pole over her shoulders.

  As Corin helped her lower the heavy load to the ground, the young woman still refused to meet his eyes. “You have to do this alone? It’s a long way up those stairs,” he said.

  “I displeased King Alexar. Caring for you by myself is part of my punishment. I will cook your meals, clean your clothes, empty your chamber pot, and…”

  “And what?”

  “I am to see to your other… needs …should you require it.”

  Corin was stunned. Why would Alexar offer one of his servants in such a manner? Perhaps he thought if Corin were comfortable, he would be less likely to cause trouble. The man obviously knew nothing about him. Looking more closely at the young woman, he saw her slight shoulders shaking. It occurred to him that perhaps Alexar simply enjoyed terrifying the girl. From what Corin had seen so far, it seemed the likeliest explanation.

  Putting his hand under her chin, he lifted her head to look at him. She was beautiful, with large, dark eyes and soft, graceful features. “I will never ask that of you.”

  They stood there for a moment, looking at each other. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said quietly.

  “At the moment, I am not the king of anything. You may as well call me Corin,” he said, removing his hand.

  “Yes, Corin.”

  He picked up one of the buckets and poured the water into the tub. “This will get me clean, but I could use a decent meal as well.”

  “It may take some time. I was not prepared when the king told me of my duties,” she said, her tone slightly afraid.

  “That’s fine,” he said, smiling to reassure her. “As you can see, it will take me a while to scrub off this filth.”

  She returned the smile with a small one of her own before reaching into one of the deep pockets at the front of her dress. Pulling out a block of soap, she offered it to him. “I will return as soon as I can, Your… Corin.” Curtsying once more, she moved quickly out the door and was gone.

  Corin stripped, tossing his filthy clothing to the side, and stepped into the tub. He sat gratefully in the shallow water and splashed it over himself, working up a good lather with the soap. After he rinsed clean with the second bucket, the clear water turned a dark grey. He dried himself on one of the shirts in the wardrobe, then dressed. His boots were covered in dried muck, and he did his best to clean them off in the tub. When he was finished, he stretched out on the bed to wait for Eleanor. He had almost nodded off when she returned carrying a tray laden with food and wine. Sitting up, he gave her room to place the tray on the bed. He filled the cup, drained it one gulp, and filled again. He then began cutting up the roast pork as Eleanor worked on draining the tub. She slid one of the buckets under the tub. Reaching into the dirty water, she pulled a plug, allowing it to fill the bucket before switching to the empty one.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  “Of course,” she replied, looking up with a less fearful expression.

  “If you are not happy here, why don’t you leave?”

  “My father. He would be very angry with me. He says serving in the palace is a great honor and would punish me before dragging me back,” she replied.

  “Don’t you have any other family you can go to?”

  She shook her head and placed the plug back in the tub.

  As Corin finished his meal and drained the last of the wine, she moved closer to look at the empty tray. “I have to take the knife and fork with me to show the soldiers.”

  Corin handed them over, and she slipped them into her large pockets. Lifting the buckets back onto her shoulders, she stopped by the door and looked back at him. “I will take the rest, and your clothes, tomorrow when I bring you breakfast.”

  “I look forward to it,” he said, smiling.

  A few minutes later, one of the soldiers closed the door, lowering the crossbar into place with a loud clang. Putting the tray on the floor, he lay back on the bed to stare at the bare ceiling. Whatever Jaxom, Celia, and the others were planning, he hoped they came for him soon.

  Chapter 2

  Jaxom gazed out the window into the sunlit courtyard. Snow still covered much of the palace and city, but the warming weather was causing it to slowly melt, creating large puddles on the paving stones. He struggled to believe his eyes as he stared at the unmoving risen below. Over nine feet at the shoulder and forty from nose to tail, it was the largest creature he had ever seen. The white, glowing eyes marked it as animated by a death mage. The angular head held dozens of sharp teeth and sported two large horns at the crown, an unnecessary adornment that added only to the ferocious appearance of the beast. Jaxom still thought that a dragon should have green or red scales instead of brown hide, but he understood Kasric’s choice. No reptiles were close to as large as this risen, and it would have taken thousands of smaller ones, whose scales were too thin to offer any kind of protection, to piece a large enough skin together. Even without the scales, the risen was imposing in its size alone, but what was contained inside the massive body was truly impressive.

  Kasric had fused the bones of larger animals together, ensuring they were hollow to reduce their weight. That had the unavoidable effect of making them less sturdy but allowed the creature to fly. The lack of internal organs, other than a two-part stomach and the brain from a horse, made the risen even lighter. The risen dragon could consume the flesh of animals or men, which would then decay in the first section of the stomach. Gasses from the rotting flesh would collect in the second stomach from where they could be pushed out back through the mouth. Imbedded at the back of the top and bottom jaw were a steel-strike and flint. When ground together, they would ignite the gas, creating an intense flame. The whole design was an inventive use of the death mage’s ability to manipulate the bodies of the dead. The creature was so impressive that shortly after Kasric had arrived in Ale’adar astride its back, Jaxom, Alimar, and Warin had all agreed that he deserved the title Magus. This made Kasric the first apprentice of their restored school to receive the honor. After a small, impromptu ceremony to officially name him a mage, Kasric had returned to Teri
ka to continue his work. The man knew his limitations in battle and said he would be of more use increasing the size of their risen army while the others rescued Corin. He took the twins, Mina and Nas, back with him as well. They were not far enough along in their training to participate in what was coming.

  The sound of footsteps drew Jaxom’s attention away from the window to see Darian striding toward him in the customary blue robes of an ice mage. His brown hair was in its usual state of disarray, and his youthful face held its customary smile.

  “Good morning, Darian,” Jaxom said warmly.

  “Good morning. I am glad to see you in a better mood,” his friend replied.

  “Doing nothing while your brother is held captive would make anyone irritable,” he muttered, bitterly.

  “It was your decision to wait! You convinced us that marching our entire army to Bruxa would only get Corin killed.”

  “Just because I came up with the best plan I could think of, doesn’t mean I liked waiting. Now that spring is coming, we can finally do something.”

  Darian shrugged. “I came to tell you that Lady Celia and Da’san returned last night from her father’s holding.”

  “Do you know how Lord Baldrin is doing?” Jaxom asked. When Corin had officially adopted him as a brother, Celia had become his cousin and her father his uncle. Before she had left to check on her father, she had asked Da’san to accompany her. As a priest of Sarinsha, he would be best able to help the sick man.

  “Improved, from what Da’san told me. He was able to give Lord Baldrin more time, but not much.”

  Jaxom shook his head. “Where is Celia now?”

  “In her chambers with Danika and Adriana, I believe.”

  “I don’t want to bother her so soon, but we need to discuss the ransom.”

  Darian nodded. “I will join you, then.”