Mage- The Guardian's Oath

by S A Edwards

  “I need your help,” she said. “I’m going after Hubert.”

  Zantos raised his eyebrows. “The Council member? Is that wise?”

  “I must. I intend to make his gift dormant, but you’ll have to open the Gate. Can I count on you?”

  “Of course.”

  Time passed.

  She stood before a dark-haired, muscular Mage. “Stop this now, Hubert,” she said. “You must realise what you’re doing is wrong.”

  He glared at her. “The Mortals are impure. This world belongs to the Mage.”

  “Please reconsider.”

  “You can’t stop it. War is coming. Either stand with us or be destroyed.”

  “Then, you leave me no choice.”

  She pulled all her gifts to the surface, combining them to achieve something only I could do with all seven. Zantos opened the Gate, giving her access to Hubert’s gift. Magic coursed through me and buzzed in my blood. She drew Hubert’s magic through, and then the Gate closed, leaving his gift free to lock back into the corners of his mind.

  Hubert stretched out his hands, and then stared at his palms. “What have you done?”

  “Your powers are dormant.”

  His eyes widened. “Activate them.”

  “No. If you cannot live peacefully with the Mortals, then you’ll join them.”

  Time moved on.

  Orator appeared in the Healer Capital, his black hair ruffled. “Hubert went to the Council. They believe you’re Corrupted, that you’ve taken his gift in an act of darkness.”

  “Then, I’ll explain –”

  “It’s too late. Even as we speak, the Seekers are on their way.”

  The surroundings shifted.

  I stood in the forest, surrounded by Seekers.

  The Council Chambers came next. Seekers and the Council surrounded me.

  “…stealing the medallion of Orashae and taking the gift of a loyal Council member. Due to the charges laid at your door, you are herewith condemned to death.”

  Even now, I shook at the words of the Refiner.

  An icy spear pierced my chest. Pain tore through me like lightning, sucking away my strength.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I sank to my knees in my final breath.

  A moment of darkness passed, and then I found myself in a low lighted room in the dead of night, three hundred years later. A woman held a tiny body in her arms. Sweating and covered in blood, she smiled down at the babe with tear-streaked cheeks.

  Sil touched her shoulder. “Rest now. The effects of labour will pass quickly.”

  She peered up at him. “How can I raise her alone? I have no husband. I never had –”

  “You must. This baby was born of magic. You can never tell anyone of the circumstances of Clara’s conception, and it’s too dangerous to bring anyone else in.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if the wrong people find out the truth about her, they will kill her.”

  My childhood passed in a flash.

  The Beasts disappeared from the villages. Rumour and speculation spread of the new terror in the forest.

  My eighteenth birthday arrived. Sil turned up at my village a moment before my gifts activated.

  The Beasts welcomed me in the forest, and once more, my training commenced.

  Two years on the run brought my twentieth birthday, and a Seeker found me.

  His attack slammed into my lungs. I cried out and clutched my chest.

  Then, darkness took hold once more.

  One by one, my lives passed. I experienced all: every joy, every pain … every death.

  The Council chambers appeared with new Council members.

  I faced them, hands trembling. Enchanted chains suppressed my gifts, preventing any magic from touching me.

  Thoughts of the Dark Plain flooded my mind, mimicking the timeless blackness experienced when captured by Cupitor. But the difference between Cupitor’s prison and the Dark Plain: there was no escape.

  “You can’t do this,” I said. Trapped in an eternal state of living death, I would never be reborn. I’d never be able to complete my oath and be there to protect the comets’ magic at the end.

  The Council Seeker raised his hands.

  Purple smoke curled in my periphery, and someone grabbed my shoulder. Orator’s voice whispered in my ear, “Forgive me.”

  A bladed protruded through my chest. Agony burned through my blood, devouring my life.

  I collapsed.

  My hands sank into wet grass, and the mouth of the crystal cave hung open before me. Silver moonlight flooded the clearing.

  My arms shook, and cramps pinched at my muscles. The Death Head gleamed on the soil, the red stone sparkling in the centre.

  “Oh no.” My memories had returned, life beyond the deaths, because of the Head.

  And now I understood.

  The Daemon was right. There was only one function of the Death Head.

  Esté wanted me to kill.

  53

  The cavern with the comet’s crystals showed no sign of Esté.

  My fingers ran over the fraying string of my pendant. My reflection shone in a crystal jutting out beside me, my golden eyes disorienting.

  “Esté,” I said.

  He appeared at once in a flash of light. His eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “You remember your past.”

  I nodded.

  “Why did you use the Head?” he demanded.

  “It was an accident.”

  He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “The corruption will fight to take you.”

  “How could you expect me to kill? After all these years, why did you never tell me I would need the Head?”

  “You swore to be a Guardian. That is responsibility enough without eighteen centuries of knowing what you must do.”

  “Do you think I’ve learned nothing?” I asked. “Taking life is not the answer.”

  “This is different.”

  “How?”

  “It’s necessary.”

  “Rubbish.” How can murder ever be necessary? There’s a reason it’s associated with corruption.

  Esté stepped between the seven stones, arms at his side. “The only way to take the gifts is to use my power. And to get that you must use the Head.”

  “And take your life in the process?”

  “There is no other way.”

  I sank onto a rock and ran my hands down my cheeks. “You are asking me to use the darkest magic known to Mage and Mortal alike, to risk losing my soul for the sake of … what?”

  “For the sake of preventing all being brought into subjection. Free will would be taken away if the comets’ magic is harnessed. Everyone, and their children, and their children’s children, would be slaves for eternity.”

  I stood on shaking legs and shook my head. “I’m not ready for this.”

  “Be strong,” he said. “Once the Head is active, draw my life from me, and with it, my magic will come.”

  Tears threatened to rise. I didn’t want to take his life. I didn’t desire his magic. That wasn’t me. I just longed to be free.

  My hand tightened on the Head, and I reluctantly willed it to activate. Its power poured through my body. Golden light danced on the rock.

  The Head rose from my palm and floated above our heads, spinning faster and faster.

  Deep and intense anger slammed into me with a force that took my breath away.

  I glared at Esté and pulled on the magic within me. His life pulsed, a ball of light curling inside him.

  My mind gripped it.

  His face paled.

  His power sent waves of pleasure through me, strength beyond anything previously experienced. I wanted it. I needed it. With this final piece of the puzzle, I’d be unstoppable. I’d longed for this all my life: freedom, power. The Council were at my mercy.

  It glided toward me, forcing gasps from the man I loathed.

  I studied Esté’s face. Why did I hate him? Weren’t we on good stand
ing just a moment ago?

  Fighting to break through the darkness cloaking my mind, I found a crack and grasped the light.

  The Head still shone above us, darker, surrounded by thick cloud.

  Blackness tugged at my mind, dragging me away from my reasoning, blocking my vision.

  I cried out, forcing it away.

  My hands stretched toward Esté.

  He sank to his knees. His light curled like wisps from him, inches from my fingers.

  “No!” I snapped my hands to my chest. “I won’t do this. I won’t submit to the darkness.”

  His life slammed back into him, knocking him to the rock.

  The Head roared. The rocks trembled. Dust tumbled from the roof. The clouds closed in on the coin, completely covering its golden surface.

  Silence fell.

  Then, the clouds burst in an explosion of sound.

  My breath rasped, and I crouched on all fours, shivering on the rough, cold ground. My eyes adjusted.

  People stood on both sides of me, motionless in the dark. A narrow space between them led to a pinprick of light far in the distance.

  “Clara,” Esté’s voice echoed in my mind. “There isn’t much time. You failed to use the Head. It intends to take control of your body.”

  “But it’s just a coin,” I said.

  “No. It’s a Hellion. Your soul has been dragged inside his prison.”

  A growl pierced the silence behind me.

  Heart thudding, I twisted.

  A huge shadow raced toward me, almost invisible in the blackness.

  My feet stumbled over the rough ground in my flight toward the light.

  Emotionless eyes stared ahead from the lined-up souls, their skin grey and lifeless.

  One moved, a single, jagged step.

  Further ahead, another reached out a clawed hand.

  “They’re waking up!” I screamed.

  “As long as the Gate is open, they’ll wake,” Esté said. “If one gets out before you, your body and gifts will become theirs.”

  The pounding grew louder. Snarls cut through the thickening air.

  The path before me filled with the souls, their feet dragging to the Gate.

  I shoved one aside, cringing at the ice-cold flesh.

  The walls of the cave became visible to me through the Gate. The crystals gleamed in the walls. Esté leaned against a rock, eyes wide. My motionless body lay on the ground near him, waiting for my soul to return.

  The souls closed in, blocking my path.

  I fought to pass, shoving and pushing. Thoughts of my flames leapt to mind, but no sparks manifested in the dark.

  The souls grabbed at me, slowing my progress. One yanked me back by my cloak.

  My fingers grappled at the catch, freeing me from its hold, and the cloak on my body outside the Gate dissolved.

  Someone scratched my arm.

  “Esté! Help me.”

  His desperate eyes grew wide. “This is a Hellion prison. I am powerless to close it alone.”

  Hands grasped me with renewed strength. The souls were only steps from the cave.

  “Zantos!” I screamed.

  Zantos appeared next to Esté in a rush of shadow, his cloak writhing like a myriad of black snakes. His eyes clamped on me, and he stabbed his hands toward the prison.

  The souls flung backward.

  I stumbled, staggered forward, and dove through the Gate. My shoulder hit a rock, and pain tore through the muscle. I rolled and merged once again with my body.

  The Gate gaped like a mouth, ringed by roiling, black clouds.

  The huge body of the Head roared and stormed at the opening, red eyes blazing.

  Zantos flicked his wrists, and Esté flung out his arms.

  The Gate closed, rushing back to the golden coin in a whirl of wind that whipped my hair.

  The Head glinted once, and then clattered to the rock.

  54

  The Head lay untouched on the rock, gleaming as though nothing had occurred.

  “This was your plan?” Zantos’ eyes narrowed from me to his brother. He approached me and offered a hand.

  I took it, flinching at the pain in my shoulder. It would need a Healer.

  “You should get that seen to.” His finger grazed the fresh cut on my arm.

  He smiled at Esté, his exact duplicate. Were it not for their clothes and the chill Zantos always brought, telling them apart would be impossible. I couldn’t believe how alike they looked considering how different they were within. “I’m glad you’re still alive, brother,” he said.

  Shadow rushed to Zantos, cloaking him in darkness, and he disappeared from sight.

  Esté didn’t speak.

  “I’m not sorry,” I whispered. I wouldn’t kill.

  He gave a little nod.

  “This isn’t the way,” I added. “We can’t fight evil with evil.”

  “We have no other options. We’ve failed.”

  “No. I have all the gifts.” We could still stop them with my power. If we fought with determination, if we all helped….

  “That is no advantage.”

  I gritted my teeth. “So, what? You’re saying nothing can be done? That I’ve messed up beyond repair? If I had taken your magic, I couldn’t use it with a pure mind. I would be Corrupted.”

  “It will be harder now. You will face the enemy, and you may fail.”

  “I won’t. I can’t.”

  He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rock. “Either way, you must be prepared. The Alignment takes place tonight.”

  My thoughts focused on the visions of the collision: the crimson moons, the stars glittering in the inky sky, the burning comets rushing toward one another, the huge chunk flaming to the land, threatening all life, and I tensed.

  “Go,” he said. “Gather the Dalrene. I’ll meet you tonight.”

  Outside, pink tinged the sky, and a cool morning breeze slipped through the clearing. Tiredness pressed down upon me, but I fought against it, grabbed the last of my food from my pack, and called the image of the Healer Capital to mind.

  “Clara.” Charlie flew toward me and gathered me into his arms.

  I staggered.

  He laughed. “Sorry. Your eyes!”

  My cheeks flushed. I must have looked strange. “They changed after I mastered the seventh gift.”

  “Cool.”

  I reached up to grip his shoulders. He reached a head above mine, and muscles ringed his arms. “Charlie, I’m sorry –”

  “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Despite his words, his focus strayed to the bleeding scratch on my arm.

  “How can you be fine with me after all I did to you?”

  “It was the corruption. I know you’d never say it.”

  “How could you not tell me you’re a Beast?”

  “I wasn’t allowed. I’m your personal Guardian, and can stay with you, but I had to keep it quiet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’d never let me do it otherwise.”

  “I tried to leave you behind a few times.”

  His face fell. “Yeah. I know.”

  Custos strode from the trees, muscles rippling in the morning sun.

  Orator followed, his purple crystal gleaming.

  I stared at him. Memories of the pain of his blade tore through my body. “You killed me.”

  Several of the Beasts shifted in the shadows, speaking in low tones. At my words, they fell silent.

  Orator frowned. “If they had sent you to the Dark Plain, you wouldn’t have been reborn.”

  “I know. But still …” I shivered.

  Sil’s lips pressed together, and he drew water from the earth. It swirled between us, and then slipped in a silver ribbon to my wounded arm. The warm liquid comforted me and eased the sting whilst it healed.

  “The Council are gathering,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  I dug my nails into my palms. The Council claimed to fight for peace. Going to w
ar was the opposite of that. “This is my fault. I had a way to stop them but failed. Maybe I made the wrong choice …”

  Custos frowned. “Clara, what’s done is done. You have everything you need to face this. You always have. Now, we must prepare for the war. They are recruiting every Mage they can.”

  “No Mortals?”

  “In their eyes, Mortals can do nothing to help against an army of Mage.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “They’re wrong. “Do we have many on our side? Have you recruited Mortals?”

  Orator nodded. “A fair number.”

  “What about those from the village below the mountain?”

  “Not yet. We are gathering the last allies we can this very day.”

  “I want to go to them,” I said.

  “Then, it’s agreed.” Orator placed his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll inform our siblings and meet you at the battlefield. Don’t stray past the edge of the wasteland. We’ll see you soon.” Smoke plumed around him.

  “Your siblings,” I said. “The Dalrene?”

  Custos nodded. “Good luck.” He burst into Beast form and re-joined the others. They bounded from the clearing.

  Only Charlie remained, his focus on me.

  Thoughts of my golden eyes tugged at my mind, self-consciousness adding to my anxiety. I offered him my hand. “Are you ready?”

  He nodded and grasped it with warm fingers. The urgency on his expression pulled the last of his childhood from his features.

  I pulled on the Shadow Realm and pictured the village beneath the mountain.

  Smoke curled, whispers hissed, and the scene changed.

  The Preserver mountain towered over the village, majestic and snow-covered. The scent of blood hung in the air.

  Charlie blinked with the rapid dip into the Realm. “Mm.” He touched his head. “I ache.”

  I squeezed his hand, transferring part of my strength to him, the way Orator had when he pulled me into the Shadow Realm the day my gifts activated. Fatigue tugged on my limbs.

  “Woah, is that your strength?” Charlie flashed his dimples, his cheeks growing pink. “Thanks. But don’t do that again, okay? I’m supposed to protect you.” Then, he frowned. “Can you smell blood?”

  The village Elder scurried to greet us, with Verum close behind. People sat and lay along the walls, wounded and in pain.

  “Welcome,” the Elder grabbed my hand. “It is good to see you well.”