To hell with it. Her duties had nothing to do with the arena. She just had to make sure the roast was ready on time. Whoever survived the arena would be very hungry afterward.
Master Go was standing in his room, awaiting Jok. “Good,” he praised him, “We can start on time.”
“We will not.”
Master Go raised an eyebrow, irritated.
“I will not fight my friend.”
“You will.” Master Go sounded threatening. “You will fight and turn him into one of your mirrors.” He made a small gesture with his hand. A messenger mirror appeared. Master Go spoke into it. “Adepts Tur and Sis, report to the tower. Candidate Tev, report to the tower. Immediately!”
Jok remained silent and waited. Master Go also waited, as unmoving as a statue.
It wasn’t long before Tev appeared, followed closely by Sis and Tur. Go ordered Tev to the center. “This is your last chance, Adept Jok. You will fight Tev in the arena.”
“No.”
Master Go’s voice grew cutting. “Adept Jok, I hereby strip you of your status as an adept and revoke all associated privileges.”
Tur laughed.
Master Go took a small soul mirror from the wall and tossed it to Tev, who caught it and stared at it, confused. “Candidate Tev, I have released this mirror for another’s use. You will turn former adept Jokon into your soul mirror.”
Tev hurled the mirror away from him as though he had burned his hand. The mirror landed between him and Jokon on the floor. “No! I will not turn my friend into a mirror!” He stood before Master Go, his fists balled defiantly, and his head raised.
Master Go’s eyes narrowed to slits. Then, he took a three-soul mirror from the wall. “So, neither of you wants to fight? Then you are unfit to be sorcerers. I will absorb you both into my mirror.” As though to himself, he added, “I have always wanted to create a five-soul mirror.”
He raised the mirror and aimed it at Tev. Jokon felt that familiar, terrifying pull. Without thinking, he threw himself to the ground and grabbed the little mirror and stood opposite Master Go. “No!” he yelled, “You will not do this! Leave Tev alone!”
Master Go’s smile was eerie. “Well lookie here, the little village boy wants to fight, after all!”
Jokon hurled a fireball in his desperate rage. He heard a rumble. The entire tower shook.
The house shook. Marada froze. A second quake. Marada knew she was about to die. As a young girl, when she still had magical powers, Marada had had a vision of her own death.
“Out!” she screamed. The other servants stood staring at her as though rooted to the floor. Marada stamped her cane.
“Out. Now! Get out of the house! All of you!” Her voice was shrill. Whatever the servants saw in her expression at that moment was enough to get them moving. A few moments later, silence and emptiness surrounded Marada. The roast hissed on the stove. She heard the last echoes of running feet and the voices of the Grays in the central wing. She heard astonished, inquiring calls. Marada sighed. Then, she straightened up, smoothed her dress and, like a queen, stepped toward her fate.
“Then we shall go to the arena now,” Master Go said.
“Screw the arena!” Jokon was furious. “We don’t need to go to the arena. You will turn us into your mirrors anyway. What chance do we have? Let us end this, right here and now!” Again, he hurled a fireball at Master Go’s mirror. Again, the tower shook, somewhat more powerfully. Master Go seemed irritated. “We have to go to the arena! That is the only place we are permitted to fight!”
Jokon had finally had enough. He gathered all his strength for a third volley. A wall of flame raced through the room. Master Go struck back immediately. Jokon felt himself being hurled through the room and smashing against the wall.
“Get the mirror away from him!” he heard Master Go yell.
The next moment, Tur and Sis fell upon him, trying to wrestle him down. With a furious scream, he pressed the mirror against Tur’s face. Before Tur could even think of defending himself, the mirror had already absorbed him. Sis leaped back and ran toward the door. Master Go cursed and hurled his own fireball. Jokon rolled to the side. The fireball broke through the wall of the tower and disappeared in the depths in a spray of sparks. Jokon hastily threw up a defensive shield. Master Go engulfed him in fiery attacks. Jokon ducked under his shield like it was a turtle shell. The flames began to melt the floor beneath him. He could feel the heat through his shield. The air within his shield was also starting to heat up. Goddess! Every breath burned. He wouldn’t be able to withstand this for long! He tried to crawl to the side, but the floor was too hot. His mirror weakened. Two souls against three, an inexperienced adept against an experienced sorcerer. The scales were too imbalanced.
The embers crept closer and closer. Jokon felt the first blisters starting to form on his feet and knees. This is how Ioro must have felt on the pyre. No, he didn’t want to burn to death. The mirror was the lesser evil.
Jokon let his defenses drop.
Master Go’s mirror immediately grabbed hold of him. Jokon felt himself being lifted into the air. His mirror fell from his hands. Master Go’s mirror tore at him. He vaguely saw something moving. Tev!
His friend grabbed the mirror and raised it. The next moment, he was standing next to Jokon, pushing the mirror back into his hand. Their fingers touched for a brief moment. One thought passed to Jokon.
“You are the better sorcerer. If either of us can defeat Go, it’s you. But your mirror is too weak. I will make it stronger. You have always been my best friend. Never forget me!”
At that moment, Tev laid his hand on the shining surface of the mirror and let himself fall into it.
Jokon’s world exploded. The mirror in his hand was suddenly bursting with energy. Something of Tevi still remained, churning in the mirror, pushing to fight. For the first time, Jokon felt the primary essence in the mirror. A small child, still a baby. Something about it seemed terribly familiar. Lira! He was holding Lira’s soul in his hands and, as he suddenly realized, Tevi’s too. Tevi, his friend, who had sacrificed himself for him. Lira, the innocent child from his village who had never had a chance to live. He thought of the others who had been lost: Thealina, Aleti, Jacitin, Gavila, Lesora, his relatives, his friends, his lovers. Fury, rage and desperation roiled in a thundercloud within him. The cloud discharged through the mirror.
He was vaguely aware of a wall behind him cracking and stones falling. Master Go was now standing in a ball of fire, hurling lightning at him. Jokon felt Tevi’s shadow suddenly create an even denser wall of crystal around him. He attacked again. Master Go’s shield seemed impenetrable. Jokon’s energy balls couldn’t penetrate the wall of fire, nor could Master Go’s lightning bolts penetrate Jokon’s crystal wall. The carpet beneath his feet ignited and burned to ash in seconds. The bolts of lightning reached out beyond the windows. Books were burning. The roof was smoldering.
Master Go now appeared to be made of molten metal, his form flowing and morphing. A snake of embers rose up before Jokon, flames dripping from its long fangs. Jokon reacted instinctively. A crystal falcon was suddenly hovering where he had stood. The falcon’s talons dug deep into the fire snake’s body. Powerful wings carried them out of the tower. High above, in the air, the falcon tried to bore its beak through the snake’s head. The snake wrapped itself around its body, as quickly as lightning, and pressed the falcon’s wings together. They plummeted. The roof of the main house shattered under the impact and went up in flames. The snake transformed into a fiery cat. Its claws pressed the falcon against the floor. Jokon could feel his strength diminishing rapidly. He could see the fire cat’s maw before his eyes. Lira was weeping in his head again, frightened, lost. Tevi’s breath seemed to blow against his neck like the ocean wind. He could hear the voices of the people around Ioro’s pyre. The tears of the Goddess! Gavila’s voice. “The solution, as always, is right in front of you!” He saw his chance.
Jokon called the ocean. And the ocean an
swered his call. A tower-high wave appeared from nowhere and arched over the burning house. For a moment, Jokon saw the fire cat raise its head and start to change shape. Then, the wave came crashing down. The fire cat was extinguished with a nasty hissing and spitting sound. His mirror greedily absorbed the last few embers. Swirling water thrust Jokon against the wall of the house, tore the wall down and fell, along with him, into the courtyard. He couldn’t breathe. The roaring maelstrom was all around him. He lost all sense of direction. Only the mirror in his hand was still illuminated. It seemed as though the water were caressing him. A whisper of a touch on his temple. Tevi!
“My friend, the sea will wash you safely ashore if you don’t fight it!”
Jokon allowed the mirror to protect him and surrendered himself to the water.
*
He heard a bird chirping. The sun was scorching hot on his back. Everything else was wet. Jokon carefully tried to move. He was lying on a giant pile of rocks. Except for the bird, everything was silent. No, not everything. He could hear sobbing in the distance. Quiet murmuring. Jokon slowly arose. Every bone in his body hurt. His head was pounding and there was a stabbing pain he had never felt before. His hands and feet were burning like fire. His mouth tasted like salt. Astonishingly, he was still holding the mirror in his hands. A mirror that had grown very large. Without looking, Jokon knew he was holding a four-soul mirror in his hand.
Gotetuli.
His tool.
His friends, his enemies.
He looked around. A panorama of destruction spread out before him. The tower was still standing, but the roof was gone and there were several large, gaping holes in the walls. The only parts of the house that were still standing were the part directly adjacent to the tower and the kitchen wing on the other side. Everything in between was a smoking pile of rubble. Mud and stones covered the courtyard. In the midst of it all lay lifeless bodies. The stalls had been washed away; the walls had collapsed in several places. What, in the name of the Goddess had happened?
He slowly reconstructed the events. His battle against Master Go. It suddenly made horrifying sense that Master Go had wanted to fight in the arena.
Jokon slowly went to the small group of survivors that was squatting at the gate, looking at him with terror in their eyes. At least half of the Grays had survived. They were huddled closely against Karados, who was comfortingly murmuring to them. Most of the servants also appeared to still be there. The losses among the Greens and Blues were much higher. Of the Greens, only Kieran and Naytarse had survived. He didn’t see any of the Blues.
A large figure arose. He could hardly make out the red robe under the layer of mud and ash. Sis slowly walked toward him and bowed. “Master Jo, what should we do now?”
Master Jo? Jokon slowly began to realize that he was now a master. He had defeated Go. He was Go’s heir. He, Jokon. No, Jo. The heir to a pile of rubble. He bore the responsibility for all the survivors. Had he wanted to be free? The tower bound him now more than ever. The irony made him laugh.
Sis winced and stepped back.
“It’s alright. I don’t want anything.” Jo looked around, searching. “Where is Marada?”
“She is dead. A burning beam hit her when she tried to get us out of the house in time,” said a somewhat older Gray.
Osseen, if he remembered correctly.
Jo’s eyes wandered across the tear-stained faces of the exhausted children and back to Sis. “Actually, there is something I want. Take the servants and make sure the children are given shelter somewhere. I assume the kitchen and adjacent servants’ quarters are still partially usable. Then, you can take care of burning the dead.” He looked back at the lifeless bodies in the courtyard. “Preserve their ashes well.” Then, he turned around and went to the tower.
Jo stepped over the rubble and climbed in through the entrance. The stairs were still astoundingly usable. The adepts’ room was almost unscathed. He continued up. Master Go’s tower room was half burned out, blackened and covered in soot. It no longer had a roof; the windows were shattered and there were three large holes in the wall. Nevertheless, the substance of the tower still seemed sound. All the tapestries had burned, but the mirrors were still hanging on the walls, crystal clear and untouched by the devastation, showing him his reflection. Jo took his new mirror, which he was still holding in his hand, and hung it in a free space. He would have to instruct the servants to bring him new wall curtains right away. Before a curious fly came too close to the wrong mirror.
Then, he turned around again.
A feeling slowly started to bubble up from within him. A wild, triumphant sense of joy. He had won. He had prevailed and to the victor went all the spoils. He was no longer in danger. Now, he was the master. Master Jo, the rightful heir and owner of the tower, house and land and everything living on it. And all the mirrors. Jo turned in a circle. The mirrors shone in the sunlight and cast a rainbow-colored light across the ashes and his face. All these mirrors were his! The collecting mirrors, the power mirrors, the powerful soul mirrors, yes, even the masterless seven-soul mirror. His eyes wandered to his newest mirror, Gotetuli. His creation. It was all that remained of his most powerful enemy. He was the youngest master this tower had ever seen. Who would dare challenge him now? He was finally safe!
And alone.
THE END
Appendix: Information about the Kingdom of Karapak
Map of the Kingdoms
If you want to take a look at a larger map, you can find the corresponding file on the Smiling Wyvern Press website smilingwyvernpress.com .
Geography and people
Karapak lies on the large plain before a massive mountain chain which borders the kingdom to the east and northeast. To the north, west and southwest, Karapak is surrounded by ocean. The kingdom lies in the moderate to subtropical climate zone. Behind the first mountain chain, to the southeast, lie the highlands of Tolor, a neighboring kingdom. To the south, where the mountains are much lower, both Karapak and Tolor border the steppes and deserts, inhabited by the free tribes, nomadic warriors who constantly raid the other kingdoms. The nomads, Tolorans and Karapakians are physically very similar, with medium-brown skin, dark eyes (usually brown), and dark hair (straight or curly). In the Dragon Mountains to the northeast and east lives a tall people whose most striking characteristic is their pale, usually gray eyes, and significantly paler skin.
Political structure
Karapak is a kingdom with a history spanning back several centuries. Originally, there were around three dozen kingdoms and duchies in the region that battled against each other with weapons and sorcery. The sorcerers of the Crystal Chamber and the kings of the Kingdom of Karapak allied and conquered the entire fertile plains region.
The sorcerers of the Crystal Chamber realized over time that too much power rested in one hand and drew a clear line separating the kingdom from sorcery. The House of Mehme was chosen as the royal house because there had never been even a spark of magic in the House of Mehme’s bloodline.
The priests are the third estate. They usually stay out of politics, but they are the balance of power in the event of a tie. They are also the voice of the people.
Sorcerers
In the Kingdom of Karapak, sorcerers belong to an organization called the Crystal Chamber. They generally stay out of politics. There is, however, a faction that wants to change that. Members of this faction include Grand Master Ro, of all people, who, in his day, was among the group of sorcerers who introduced a royal house devoid of magic. A sub-faction of this group also wants to change the power structures within the Crystal Chamber and, to this end, maintains secret connections to another group of sorcerers outside the Kingdom of Karapak.
Magic is inborn but remains latent without training. The sorcerers actively seek out students and take children born with latent magical powers back to their training houses as payment for their magical services. The sorcery schools are used to filter out the most talented among the students. The
rest are systematically robbed of their powers or completely transformed into magic mirrors. These mirrors are the sorcerers’ most powerful tools. They can store large amounts of energy and release it all at once, when needed.
Names
Names are very important. A person’s status is indicated by the length of their name. Slaves and people in the lowest caste (prostitutes and their children, horse slaughterers, latrine cleaners) have single-syllable names. Commoners have names with two syllables and nobles have names with three or more syllables. Consecutive vowels are pronounced individually, for instance, Niai is a three-syllable name: Nee-ah-ee.
This rule only applies in Karapak, not in other kingdoms.
The reverse applies to sorcerers. In the beginning, the students have long names. When they become adept candidates and adepts, they are allowed to shorten their names to three letters. Those who become sorcerers, shorten their names to two letters. Since, with only two letters available, it is more than likely that two sorcerers will have the same name, they are given an epithet such as Ke of the West Country, As Goat’s Beard, etc. Here too, however, two consecutive vowels are pronounced separately, so a name like Ai has two syllables.
Code of Honor
Karapakians are a people who value honor and “face” above everything. Nothing is worse than failure. Success, on the other hand, is highly respected, regardless of how it is achieved. Karapakians live by the motto “the ends justify the means”. You just can’t get caught doing anything illegal. The height of dishonor is to either be caught committing a crime and be publicly accused or to break your word. Honor and dishonor fall on the entire family.
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