by Dan Zangari
Nearly two hundred of the Partakers of the Feast were fleeing through the gardens. Royals. Foreigners. Servants. Where was Practil?
Kaescis and Raedina pushed their way toward the grand steps leading to the palace. Two men, clothed like Alathians and dressed in foreign mage’s robes, exited one of the palace doors.
How dare they attack us? Kaescis growled. When had the easterners’ aggression grown to the point of besieging the heart of the empire?
The Alathian mages hurled deadly magic at the fleeing men and women in the gardens.
Kaescis wouldn’t stand for this. His people had to be protected.
“Raedina, let me free.”
She complied, touching the gems on her bracelet. The bubble of barsion magic that had encased them became a wall between them and the palace.
Kaescis darted to his left, casting another spell with a sharp-sounding incantation. Dark-blue particles of barsion magic appeared around his regal clothing. It enveloped his body, veiling him with armor-like protection. At the same time, Raedina reversed the power of her bracelet. The ovoid barrier encased her once again.
“I am a Mindolarn prince!” Kaescis shouted to the two Alathians, intending to draw their attention.
His hopes were realized.
The two mages stopped flinging their magic at the fleeing crowd, then focused on Kaescis, who was bounding up the stairs. They were obviously here to attack the members of the Royal Family. Alathians had a tendency to focus their hostility on the leaders of the empire.
Kaescis charged at the mages, raising his black sword high into the air.
Both mages stepped aside, mustering more magic. Like Kaescis, thin barriers of barsion magic rose around them.
Kaescis bounded toward the mage on his left, who was gathering fiery energies in his hands. Streams of red and orange flame swirled around the mage.
As Kaescis came within weapon’s reach, the mage stretched out his hand. A beam of fire struck Kaescis’s barsion barrier. His protection flickered, but Kaescis pushed through the flame. He sliced his black sword diagonally, striking the mage’s shoulder.
The mage’s barsion eroded once struck by the Ko’delish. That magic devoured all it touched. Kaescis pressed harder, and within seconds, he cut through the barsion.
Black particles of the Ko’delish wisped beneath the rest of the mage’s protective spell, spreading across his body. It consumed his flesh, turning it to gray dust.
Kaescis gritted his teeth, mentally focusing more of his sword’s devouring mist to seep into his foe.
The consuming magic dropped the mage to his knees. He was dying.
Kaescis turned, casting another spell. Gray telekinetic particles gathered beyond the barsion of his freehand. The prince’s eyes focused on the other mage who was hurling magic at Raedina.
She, however, was awkwardly dodging the spells. Raedina hadn’t seen much combat.
Kaescis’s telekinetic magic formed as he finished the incantation. It shot toward the mage, striking him and hurling him diagonally through the air. The mage hit the stone walls of the palace and then fell into the gardens.
“Come on!” Kaescis shouted to Raedina, motioning with his freehand to the palace door.
Side by side, they bolted into the palace, where more fearful sounds of pandemonium greeted them.
* * * * *
Kaescis hurried through the upper halls of the palace. The fighting hadn’t reached beyond the grand foyers. It was fairly quiet until he reached the fourth floor.
Eruptions of magic resounded.
More blasts echoed from a hallway leading to the chambers where the emperor had sequestered himself.
“Those filthy Alathians,” Kaescis spat, bolting into the hall.
He passed several dead Crimson Praetorians—they were the empire’s elite guard. Many were trained in each school of magic and skilled with a variety of weapons. Each Crimson Praetorian wore blood-red plate armor that was enhanced by magic. The emblem of the empire was emblazoned across their breastplates: a silvery version of the seven-headed red hydra. It took much to fell a Praetorian.
Anxious, Kaescis wound through a series of corridors. The halls were built to slow intruders or would-be assassins, intended to give the emperor—or whoever was hiding in the chambers—ample time to escape.
More Praetorians lay lifeless, their armor scorched by various types of magics.
How many Alathians had infiltrated the heart of the palace? And where were their dead? Kaescis only saw Praetorians.
Soon, he arrived at the chambers where his uncle had been hiding. More Praetorians lay in the doorway. That was twelve. More eruptions reached his ears.
Hurrying inside, Kaescis gasped in horror, his eyes widening.
His uncle, the emperor, struggled to defend himself with a shield made of the Ko’delish. The black misting particles flowed from Uncle Monddar’s arm, emitted from a tevisral. It repurposed the Ko’delish in a manner similar to barsion magic, creating a black shield that devoured assailing spells. But the black shield was flickering. Uncle Monddar also wore armor that looked as if it were dyed in blood. It was scaled, with thick scallops along his upper arms and back.
Across the chamber, a lone man assailed the emperor. He wore a mage’s battle garb; thin sheets of armor melded into a thick robe. His hawk-like face was wrinkled, his nose sharp, his chin long. A gray beard shrouded his face. Vibrant sapphire eyes glared at Uncle Monddar. This mage looked familiar, but it couldn’t be who Kaescis remembered.
That man was dead.
Several layers of barsion magic encircled the intruder, his barrier infused with a myriad of colors representing various types of magics, a rare sight. He wielded dozens of orbs of various destructive powers: arcane, fire, disintegration, telekinetic, lightning, and acid. He masterfully hurled them at the emperor while gracefully keeping a safe distance.
Was this intruder the only one who assaulted these chambers? There were no other dead Alathians. He must be the only one, Kaescis thought. Alathian mages were notorious combatants. Some of their Order had mastered all the Channels of Magic. Grand mages, they were called. Was this intruder such a mage? He had to be.
Enraged, Kaescis bounded across the chamber toward the grand mage, swinging his black blade.
The intruder noticed Kaescis, flinging orbs at him. He threw his arms at the elbows in sweeping motions. Such techniques were common among true masters of the magical arts as a means to prevent fatigue. It also allowed a mage to hurl mustered magic at a much faster rate.
Seven deadly orbs flew at Kaescis, and he sliced across two. Both orbs exploded against his blade, causing him to stumble. The other five hit his barsion, weakening it.
The grand mage uttered an incantation, mustering more of his deadly orbs. Hundreds appeared around him, dancing above his layers of barsion. He steadied himself, glancing at both of his foes. Settling into a wide stance, the grand mage hurled magic at both Kaescis and his uncle.
Kaescis pressed forward, swatting and evading the bolts thrown at him. But this intruder was too skilled. The evaded magic simply whizzed through the air, striking Kaescis in the back. Magic struck him from all sides, pinning him a leap and bound away.
Kaescis couldn’t get any closer. All he could do was defend himself while watching his uncle succumb to the vile mage.
After several more hits, Kaescis’s barsion shattered.
The grand mage seemed to sense this and shifted his focus, hurling all of his magic at the emperor. The bolts tore through the misting shield, striking Uncle Monddar’s crimson breastplate.
A violent explosion of light filled the room, blinding Kaescis and knocking him to the ground. A horrified wail resounded behind him while a pained scream shot through the blinding light.
The light faded as Kaescis recovered from the repulsion. His vision blurred as he strained to focus on a figure looming over another. He blinked. The intruder extended his barsion-encased hand toward the fallen emperor. Uncle Monddar l
ay on his back, a hole marring his breastplate.
“Today you die, Monddar!” the intruder shouted. “Your reign of terror ends now!”
“Uncle!” Kaescis screamed, rising to his feet with fury.
“Kaescis, no!” he heard Raedina shrieking behind him. She must have been the one who wailed amid the explosion.
The grand mage turned, noticing Kaescis’s advance. He stepped backward, uttering an incantation. Green magic swirled in his hands.
Once near the mage, Kaescis swung his black sword with fury. It left a trailing mist as it sang through the air, striking the mage’s barsion. The magical blade and the mist devoured the outermost layer of the mage’s protective sphere.
At that moment, the mage finished his spell. Ensnaring tentacles burst from his palms toward Kaescis.
The tentacles wrapped around Kaescis, forcing him upward. They splayed his arms wide while slamming his head against the stone ceiling. One of them raced for his mouth, forcing its way inside and past his tongue. It stopped short of suffocating him. Kaescis could breathe through his nose, but he couldn’t speak, and that meant he couldn’t cast a spell either.
Totally debilitated, Kaescis dropped his sword. The blade’s faint mist eroded the surrounding floor.
“You are not my foe today, young prince,” the intruder said. His tone was tranquil. How could he be so calm while committing murder? Kaescis had never been that calm.
A bolt of magic sped toward the mage, but he deflected it and hurried away. Kaescis couldn’t see him, but he heard the mage’s footsteps heading toward the far side of the room. They soon faded.
He can’t know where the secret passage is, can he? Kaescis wondered, noticing Raedina moving beneath him.
She was still encased in her ovoid of barsion. But now, she wielded her wand.
“Dispel.” She said the word in the ancient Keadal tongue, aiming the wand toward Kaescis. The Keadal language was spoken among their ancestors, used to activate certain tevisrals.
Off-white light formed at the wand’s tip—dispelling magic. The magic shot within a second, striking the ensnaring tentacles. They vanished, and Kaescis fell to the floor.
“Are you hurt?” Raedina asked, helping him upright.
“No,” he replied, grabbing his sword. Kaescis looked across the room, toward an opening in the wall: the secret passage. Who was this mage? He had intimate knowledge of the palace. But no one knew of that passageway beside the Royal Family. Could one of their kin have betrayed the empire? Perhaps it was those Losians he saw—
Uncle, Kaescis snapped back to reality, hurrying across the room.
The emperor lay on his side, a hole burned through his torso. Blood dripped from his breastplate to the floor. The wound looked fatal. Uncle Monddar groaned, scraping his bloodied gauntlet across the floor and smearing blood.
If I only had an arpran tevisral… Kaescis grumbled. Then, he could pursue that villainous mage without worry for his uncle. He uttered an incantation, mustering arpran magic. As the green light swirled around his hands, Kaescis glanced to Raedina and her wand. Why did that wand have to be limited to arcane magics?
While green arpran magic coalesced, Raedina hurried out of the chambers and through the secret passage.
You fool, Raedina, Kaescis thought, finishing his incantation. The mage had been enhanced. There was no way she could catch up to him. Kaescis focused on his uncle, surging the arpran magic toward the gaping wound.
Uncle Monddar gasped as the green light penetrated him. The light surged, but he fell limp, his gauntleted hand collapsing against the stone floor.
No…
Eyes widening, Kaescis started with horror. He knew he was too late.
The arpran light filled the emperor but soon faded. Uncle Monddar remained limp and lifeless.
“No…” Kaescis moaned sorrowfully, but then his emotions culminating in an enraged cry. It echoed through the room, ringing even after Kaescis ceased screaming.
After a moment Kaescis regained his composure, though he was still enraged. “I promise you, Uncle,” he vowed with wrath, “I will kill this assassin!”
Fueled with fury, Kaescis bolted out of the chamber and into the secret passageway. He darted through the winding passage until reaching a hole in one of its walls. The breech led to a room for palace guests, currently unoccupied. A door was wide open, undoubtedly where the villainous mage had fled next.
Kaescis continued with haste, following the path he assumed his uncle’s killer had taken. Eventually, he found Raedina at a broken window overlooking the entrance to the palace. She aimed her wand, screaming as she fired bolt after bolt through the shattered pane.
On the steps below, hundreds of Alathian mages retreated, clustering together. They flung magic at the palace guard, holding the Mindolarnian soldiers at bay. Filthy Alathians! Enraged, Kaescis searched for his uncle’s killer. The lone mage was dashing down the palace steps, the only one not among the cluster of Alathian mages.
“You won’t get away that easily, murderer!” Kaescis shouted, and hurled his Ko’delish blade like a javelin. Black mist trailed from the weapon as it sped through the air. Raedina’s bolts whizzed beside the blade. Both magics were aimed at the crowd, meant to intercept the murderous mage.
A ripple of brilliant blue light washed from the cluster of mages just as Uncle Monddar’s murderer reached his fellow Alathians. The magic washed through the air like a roaring tide, forming a towering multi-layered domed barrier. Kaescis’s black blade struck the reformed barsion, tearing through several layers before dissipating. Raedina’s bolts erupted against the outer layer, causing the barsion to flicker.
Amid the explosions, golden light shone from the enemy ranks, the beginnings of a conjuration portal.
“No!” Kaescis yelled, watching his uncle’s killer disappear within the crowd.
Raedina continued screaming, firing bolts in furious desperation.
Golden light rippled across the Alathian ranks, veiling them from sight. “I’ll find you…” Kaescis vowed through clenched teeth. “And when I do, I’ll carve out your heart with my blade.” Suddenly, the golden light pulled back toward the center of the crowd, and the mages disappeared, teleporting away through the conjuration magic.
Raedina stopped firing at the enemy intruders and wailed in despair. Her cries echoed through the hall and out the broken window. Her hand trembled, and she dropped her wand. Raedina opened her mouth to speak, but no words left her lips.
Kaescis exhaled, shaking his head. This was just like the assassinations of his other uncles, the previous emperors of Mindolarn. He wasn’t present for those deaths, but he’d heard the tales. Remembering those stories stoked his rage.
Raedina dismissed the effect of her bracelet and staggered toward Kaescis. Gripping his arms tightly, she said, “He’s dead, isn’t he?” Kaescis nodded, and she collapsed against his chest, sobbing softly as her tears stained his coat.
“Come on,” he urged, and they left the broken window.
Together, Kaescis and Raedina returned to the once hidden chambers. Their uncle lay lifeless, his gauntleted hand outstretched. Blood spread across the floor in an arc.
Raedina’s sobs turned to wailing, and she fell to the stone floor. Her despair was infectious.
How could Kaescis strengthen the empire now? His uncle had reigned for nearly thirty years, ruling the longest of all the seven brothers, beside the eldest—Kaescis’s father. During Uncle Monddar’s reign he rebuilt their cities, advanced their abilities to create tevisrals, and enlisted more foreigners to their cause. Now, the empire would be in disarray, as it had when the other emperors died. It was hopeless—
The blood on the ground wasn’t smearing or random spatter as Kaescis had first supposed. His uncle had written something with his own blood. It was a scribbled mess, but Kaescis could read it.
“Seek the Isle. Heed Lord Ca—” the name was incomplete.
The isle? He couldn’t be referring to the same thin
g that crazed fool spoke of, could he?
“Mindolarn cannot be rebuilt by diplomacy. Only by force…” The words rang in his mind. Kaescis saw truth in that notion. Their enemies attacked with brute force, never striking through diplomacy, but starting a war now would be suicide for the empire. They needed a sure means to victory. Tools of war that would tip the balance of power against mages like the wicked one he and his uncle fought.
“Perhaps I was naïve…” Kaescis said, standing above his uncle’s corpse. “I will do whatever I must to expand our empire’s borders. I will reclaim our lands and push our domain to the seat of Losian power. Then, all the men of Kalda will bow in reverence to the Mindolarn Empire.”
With a surge of glorious purpose filling his soul, Kaescis Midivar, now sixth in line to the Mindolarn throne, embraced his uncle’s dying wish.
“I come, clothed in red.
I alight the mind like flame.
I show the past, the future, and the present.”
- 7th Verse from the Feast of Sorrows
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
The sweet aroma of pastries tingled Iltar’s senses. Baked furnapel always evoked reminiscent memories from his childhood, especially when he smelled them here in his family’s home. He strode down a hallway toward the kitchen, where the tantalizing aroma grew stronger. For a moment, he thought he was a child again, peering around the corner to spy on his mother’s cooking. Those were fond days. Days that were decades past.
Iltar’s gaze was drawn to a short, portly man sitting in a wooden chair beside a table. He was a groom named Hegdil.
Hegdil was staring across the kitchen with an admiring grin. “That smells so good, Belsina!”
“None for you!” a woman’s voice sternly scolded from the kitchen. “That is, unless you chop so’more wood.”
Hegdil frowned and then noticed Iltar. “Good morning, Master Iltar.” He sounded chipper, despite Belsina’s sternness.
Iltar nodded and entered the kitchen. It had changed little over the years. Cabinets and countertops made of light-brown wood lined the walls to the left. A wood-burning stove where Belsina was removing a cast-iron cooking sheet squatted between a pair of cabinets.
