The Arcane War

by Tam Chronin

  It was the way of things, and Arlanz knew that better than most. Still...

  "I've been studying to be one of those priests. I've made friends with more than a few. Priests are not gods. They make mistakes. Hell, some of them are blithering idiots who shouldn't be in charge of picking a chicken for supper, let alone a human for sacrifice. I'll talk to some people. I'll get this cleared up."

  Arlanz opened his mouth to say something, but he looked over at Naran and visibly stopped himself. Another breath, and Arlanz smiled kindly at the boy. "I'm sure that you will. While you are under my roof, you are family. Under my protection. They will not find you."

  At that, the proprietor left them. Naran pulled out a tablet of paper and sticks of charcoal and began sketching things he'd seen that day. "They're going to kill me, aren't they?"

  "Not if I can help it, no."

  The scritch-scritch sound of the charcoal on the paper filled the room for a moment before Naran looked up. "Can you really stop them, though?"

  "I'm a mage," Davri said with a roguish grin. "There's not a lot I can't do." He could do it. He knew that he could. The cost would be great, but he would save Naran.

  Humans.

  Krecek shook his head as he walked into his small room. He kept it simple, spare. He had hidden magical components there, impossible for most humans to obtain. By appearing as if nothing of value could be hidden there, he'd managed to hold on to great treasures that the high priests would envy.

  His personal items, clothing and such, was kept in the trunk at the foot of his bed. He walked past that, to his bedside table, and pulled out a flat wooden box that was secreted under the surface. It unlocked with a command word in the elvin tongue.

  He pulled out a vial of water from the lake Orlathannivra. The lake was said to have formed from the tears Nalia herself. Tears once shed for her child, Baedrogan, the god of death. A potent gift from his aunt Siv before he'd left the elvin lands.

  Krecek then lifted a small branch from his father's tree. The branch was so small that it was almost a twig. However, the tree itself had been planted by Egridaea, the goddess of the earth, before humans had been created. Again, it was seeped in ancient magic.

  Most important, though most mundane, was a trinket of colored glass that danced in the sunlight. It wasn't much, but for this purpose it would ensure that Krecek could cast a spell no one else in the temple would be able to.

  The trinket had been a midsummer gift from Davri.

  He felt a pang of guilt. It was one of very few gifts he'd received in his years as a priest. Life had been largely solitary for him. The intent behind the present had been friendship, not this.

  In the end, Krecek had a duty to fulfill. The gift from Davri gave him an edge over the other priests.

  "Seigreathana, beianla erae," he intoned, touching the water to the branch. He held the bauble in one hand, the branch in the other, and he let the gentle urging from them both guide him.

  The pull away from the temple was intense, equal to the urge Davri must have felt to run away. Good. Down the stairs, into an alley—

  And nothing. No, just a vague hint.

  The spell was working, he hadn't miscast it, but it didn't pull him in any real direction or along any particular path. It was no cause for concern, however. He was content to wander around, stop for tea, enjoy the fresh air. The spell guided him forward and stopped again a few times.

  That was good.

  Whatever magic Davri was using to hide himself with was not perfect, and not permanent.

  Krecek would find Davri. He couldn't hide forever.

  Chapter Three -

  Searching for Answers

  "I don't understand," Aral whispered.

  It wasn't an attempt at secrecy or silence. Her voice just wouldn't come out.

  Naran put his hand on Aral's arm, but she could barely feel it. She was staring at Davri, mind racing, trying to find a way to make it so that what he'd told her wasn't what she thought he'd said.

  "I don't know what to do," Davri said, voice calm, face almost devoid of expression. "They'll be looking for both of us. Do you have documentation or proof that your parents died? Is there anything in writing to explain that a deal was made between them and the priest?"

  "I have a letter," Aral said. She placed her hand over Naran's cold fingers, pressing tight to make sure he was still there. "They explained it. They donated their library to the university, too. The headmaster will have documents."

  "Find everything you can," Davri said. "Naran, we need to go as soon as we can. Grab only essentials."

  Naran slipped his hand from Aral's, packing as silently as he could.

  No.

  Aral propped herself against the wall just to stay standing. This couldn't be happening.

  "As soon as you get this cleared up, we'll be back," Davri said.

  "Gods don't make mistakes," Aral said, and she could hear the creeping hysteria in her own voice. "How do you hide from gods? They're going to find you. Then you'll both—"

  She stopped, feeling it a moment before it happened.

  It was too late.

  The door burst open with a loud crack.

  Aral had a defensive spell on the tip of her tongue.

  Davri was raising his hands in a gesture familiar from one of their more advanced classes.

  Naran was crouched in a corner, hands raised over his head protectively.

  They found themselves frozen in place, unblinking, unbreathing, as young man walked in wearing the robes of a priest.

  "Davri," he said gently, "what have you done?"

  The young priest looked the three of them over. Moments passed, his bright green eyes taking their measure before releasing them with a dismissive gesture.

  Aral took a step toward him as soon as she was released.

  The spell was cast in an instant.

  It should have pushed the priest out of the room like a hard shove.

  Nothing.

  He was unmoved, unruffled, simply looking at her as if mildly disappointed.

  "Don't, Aral." Davri stepped between them, meeting her eyes with a warning that was more intense than his words. He then turned to the priest. "I didn't have a choice, Krecek. It's not right. I had to save him."

  "You know this person?" Aral's voice was shrill to her own ears. Some detached part of her realized it was the beginning of hysterics. Well, after everything today, it was hardly a surprise.

  Davri nodded, not taking his eyes from Krecek.

  "We're friends," Krecek said. "We are." Insistent. Hopeful? "We've been friends for years." Now his voice was firm, determined. "They said you attacked Ervain, unprovoked. The high priests want you, and your associates, for questioning."

  "You're making a mistake," Davri said. He stepped aside and gestured to Aral. "This is my friend. Aral Tennival."

  Aral took half a step back, still alarmed at the intrusion and the way he'd brushed aside her spell. Was he some sort of child prodigy? Is that why he was a priest so young?

  "Tennival?" Krecek eyes lit up and his face grew soft, kind. He made sudden gesture, awkward, like he was suddenly nervous or intimidated. It shifted from that first gesture into him tucking his hair behind his ear. His ear that came to an inhuman point at the end. "I am honored to meet you. I knew your father when he attended this school. He was also a friend."

  "You…did?" Aral stammered over the words, realizing as soon as she opened her mouth. He wasn't a young man. He was an…elf? No, half elf. The eyes…the ears…the short stature. She realized he could very well be ancient, and she was judging him as if he was a child. She'd cast a spell not just at a priest, but an elf. No wonder it had done nothing.

  She was staring. Rather obviously. A fact she only realized when Krecek's expression changed from warmth to resignation.

  "Yes, I am a half elf," Krecek said with what appeared to be well practiced patience. "Northern, which is where I get my stature and the brightness of my eyes. My mother was hu
man." He'd clearly said these words so many times, justifying his existence to two societies that would never accept him.

  "Oh," Aral said faintly. What else could she say?

  Davri cleared his throat. "Her parents, both of them, died half a year ago. I'm sorry you're learning this way."

  "But they were so young," Krecek said. His eyes darted down and to the right, as if calculating their ages, making sure that even by human standards it was a short time.

  "Yes. It was a tragedy. One that, if you bring us to the high priests, will be compounded."

  "They just want you for questioning. What could be tragic about..." He stopped himself, looking around the room one more time and looking, actually looking, at Naran for the first time. "Oh no. Again?"

  Aral met Davri's eyes, and they seemed to have the same thought. Again? This had happened before?

  Krecek brushed past them and stood in front of Naran, looking him in the eyes and placing a hand upon the child's forehead. There was a light pulse of magic that traveled through the room, like a ripple in a still pond. Something glowed briefly above Naran's head, and Krecek's shoulders slumped.

  "I can't remove it. A high priest placed this mark. Any priest would see it immediately." He placed a finger over Naran's lips. "No, don't say a word. I can feel the spell on you…Davri's work, and well crafted. Don't break it, not yet." He squared his shoulders and turned to Davri and Aral. "I have my duty, but please, tell me what this is about? Why would someone do this?"

  "You'll help?" Aral could barely dare to hope.

  "I'll do my best," he said. "I need to know everything."

  "My parents were sick," Aral explained, hesitating over the word "sick". It seemed so inadequate. "Sick" was something a healer cured. "They went to the temple at home. It's dedicated to the god of healing, so it should have been so easy to fix. Just go in, pray with a healer and a priest, and come home to rest a while before going on." Aral took a deep breath. It was a tangent, but she couldn't help herself. She hadn't spoken of this for months.

  Davri put a hand on her shoulder, and Aral grimaced. It was supposed to be a smile, but this was too hard. She ducked away, sitting down on the edge of her bed, gathering herself to go on.

  "They sent me a letter. The priest had given them a choice. They could sacrifice Naran, or they would die. They...they tried so hard to have another baby after me. All sorts of spells to bring Naran into the world, all sorts of-- There was no way they'd let him die." Another deep breath. Just facts. "They sent Naran to live with me while they put their affairs in order. They died while he was on the road. I have papers. Documents. Their letters. There was special dispensation made here at the university so I could watch him. They donated books, their research...they died so that this wouldn't happen to him."

  Her voice broke on the last sentence. Stupid, weak, crying in front of a priest as if that will make a difference. As if someone like that could be persuaded by emotion instead of strength. He probably saw a thousand tears from a thousand people a day, wanting exceptions, wanting miracles.

  Davri handed her a handkerchief. "I've talked to some of the professors about this. There's no doubt that Master and Mistress Tennival are dead. It was a great blow to the community. I didn't think about telling you. I'm sorry. I didn't know you knew them."

  Silence.

  Krecek's head was bowed, eyes closed. Was he thinking? Praying? Aral almost asked him if he'd help, if he'd decided, but she was so afraid. Would he get annoyed at having his thoughts interrupted? Would he just walk away and leave them to their fate if she asked too much?

  "I'm going to help you," Krecek said at last. "It might not be enough, but I'll try, gods help me." It was clear he wasn't using the expression lightly. He'd clasped his hand over a golden medallion, clearly a holy symbol, that hung on a chain around his neck. Round, with a five-pointed star resting over the flame of creation. Aral recognized it at once. Magic. The goddess of magic.

  Of course it was. Who else would he worship, in the Temple Magica?

  "The first thing I need to do is gather more evidence. I'll need to see their graves and speak to the healers who attended them. I'll need to talk to the priest who did this, if he's still there. The three of you can travel with me, or find somewhere safe to hide, but I can't grant you sanctuary until I have more evidence." He looked defeated. "I'm not supposed investigate. They told us not to. I'm should bring all of you back with me. But if I do that, the boy will die."

  "Why?" Aral clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms. "You said this has happened before, but you're not even supposed to check? You're not supposed make sure someone didn't make a mistake? High priests can just kill whoever they like, for any reason, or no reason at all?"

  Krecek met her eyes, holding her gaze for several heartbeats. Something inside him looked tired, resigned. He looked away first, shaking his head just once. "We don't have much time. Pack a few necessities and meet me at the northern gates. The sooner we leave the city, the better."

  He left without another word.

  "Can we trust him?"

  Davri shrugged. "I trust him," he said.

  "Do you think he'll be able to help?"

  He hesitated, looking at her with an odd expression for a moment. "I need to grab a few things," he said. "I'll meet you at the gates." He left before she could ask anything else.

  Aral stared at the door, heart racing at the implications of everything that had just happened.

  She could lose her brother. That was the immediate problem.

  Underlying that, her faith in the gods had been shaken. She wasn't ready to think of corrupt priests and sacrifices that might just be murder.

  Davri had aspired to be a priest. What did that say about him?

  If Krecek helped them, what would that mean for him?

  Naran put a hand on Aral's arm, bringing her out of her thoughts. His face was pale with fear, but he smiled at her anyway, faith in her clearly absolute. She didn't have time to chase the darkness of her doubts through the recesses of her mind. She had things to do.

  "We're going home," Aral said. "We'll find all the proof we need there, and with any luck we'll have that mark removed by the idiot who placed it on you. We'll get it straightened out," she ruffled his hair, smiling gently. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever."

  No one spared them a second glance as they left the city. The guards motioned them through with bored expressions as they reached the gate on horses Krecek had obtained. There'd been some creative misrepresentation of the truth in order to get them, as well as the permission to leave for a few days. Sometimes, he thought, a greater purpose justified smaller infractions. The temple could do without the horses, and him, for a little while. It was important to get this cleared up.

  After they passed a sufficient distance Davri pulled alongside Naran and removed the spell upon him. The boy thanked Davri, but other than that no words were exchanged. No one seemed in the mood to talk much as they rode.

  It was a few hours after nightfall, with the chill wind chasing them down the mountain, when they finally reached an inn. Krecek was glad to get out of the saddle, stretch his legs, and enter a building with an effective warmth spell worked into the walls. He didn't travel often anymore, and he could feel it in his legs. In no time they had a room together and could wash off the dust of the road.

  "Get as much sleep as you can tonight," Krecek said as he washed his face. "We have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow."

  "Will we be safe while we travel?" Naran spoke up immediately.

  "I'm a priest. Where I walk, the gods walk."

  "I thought we were hiding from priests and gods," Naran said. "All of them want to kill me. So, why should you being a priest make me feel safe?"

  "Naran!" Aral rushed out from behind the privacy screen, not entirely covered by her nightgown as she rushed to silence her brother's heresy. She froze when she realized it, cheeks almost scarlet before she turned around to fix her gown.

 
; "He has a point, and he hasn't been given the opportunity to ask until now." Krecek wiped his face with the hand towel as he considered his answer. "I hope we're not running from gods. Rebellion against the gods could bring disaster. As for running from priests, that issue is a little more complicated. If you are with me, any random priest we run into will assume I am doing my duty and bringing you to the appropriate temple or transporting you for an upcoming occasion."

  "Brigands and outlaws shouldn't be a problem," Davri finally spoke up. "We're three mages, guarding one child. But, we have a different sort of problem. The last I heard, the Tennivals were in Thalanis. We all know how far away that is. Even traveling light, pushing ourselves—"

  "It's fine," Aral said. "I'm in no hurry as long as it means this is put behind us. School can wait. I'll write a letter to the headmaster tonight explaining the situation."

  "No," Krecek said, "I don't have that much time. If I spend two months to investigate the reason behind a sacrifice that I was told not to ask questions about, there will be consequences. Possibly for all of us." He looked at Davri curiously. "You know what I was going to suggest, don't you?"

  "An enchanted path," Davri nodded. "Even Aral is powerful enough to hold her own on one, and the two of us can protect Naran against anything there."

  "No! I just had Master Lanrin's lecture on travel this morning, and he went on at length on how dangerous they are. I'm not putting my brother through that."

  "At this point, anything's dangerous," Davri pointed out. "It might be less dangerous on an enchanted path, actually. Nothing there will be targeting us, specifically. We'll be perfectly safe, as long as we stay on the path. There and back within a day, instead of a month or so."

  "Wouldn't it be two or three months?" Naran asked.