Magician's Heir

by D Bruce Cotton

  “Aye.” Victor stepped forward with a companionable shrug. “It would not be the first time I have gone to bed hungry. Might I share the warmth of your fire? That, at least, would cost you nothing.”

  A look of cold calculation came over Rosner’s face. “Of course, young man. Come forward and share my fire.” The hidden hand writhed and twisted as though he held a struggling serpent beneath the folds of cloth. “And perhaps I can find something for you after all.”

  As Victor drew closer, Rosner’s hand jerked free of the heavy cloth to reveal a sparking, spitting globule of black power clenched tight in his fist. Tiny droplets fell between his fingers, hissing against the frozen turf and dissolving chunks of dirt and snow. Eyes glowing a maniacal red, the rogue mage pulled back his arm to cast his power at Victor...

  A foot of raw steel sprouted from the center of Rosner’s chest. The mage grunted in surprise, looking down at the sword jutting from his body. The ball of acid dropped from his hand, splashing harmless against the ground and gouging a smoking crater from the icy dirt.

  “Dine on that, mage,” growled Henslow. Placing his boot against Rosner’s back, he jerked the sword free, watching in satisfaction as the body crumpled to the ground.

  Despite the freezing temperatures, Victor wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of one arm. “You came not a moment too soon, Captain. Another moment and I... well, I prefer not to dwell on what might have happened.”

  “I had to be very careful not to give away my presence.” Henslow kneeled to wipe his blade on the mage’s robe. “You did well, Victor. Very w...” He gasped, eyes widening in shock, as he stared at the gleaming surface of his sword.

  Victor drew his own sword, glancing around in all directions. “Captain? What is it?”

  “Damn my eyes!” he snarled. “There is no blood! How could I forg...”

  Rosner lunged from the ground, cutting Henslow off as he seized the Captain’s throat. Victor fell back in surprise, tripping over a rock and sprawling to the ground, his sword flying. The stumble saved him as Rosner hurled a second burst of black power which sailed past his shoulder, exploding against the ground with a thunderous crackle.

  Henslow dropped his own sword to grapple with the mage’s arm, eyes bulging as he struggled to free himself and draw breath. He felt Rosner’s fingers curl tighter, ragged nails puncturing skin, hot blood soaking his tunic. The mage’s glowing red eyes stared into his, mouth stretched into a maniacal grin. A gray fog crept over the edges of Henslow’s vision, darkening to black as consciousness fled.

  With a crash, Victor slammed into the mage, breaking his hold and bowling him over. Henslow drew a rasping breath, cold air scalding his damaged throat like acid. As the darkness receded, he pawed through the snow, searching for his fallen sword. At last, his hand closed over the naked blade, slicing his palm.

  With a roar of fury, Rosner tossed Victor from his back. The soldier landed with a crunch against the bole of a tree and slid to the ground with a loud groan. He did not rise. The mage turned to face Henslow, snarling. “Pathetic! The Dark Mage rules supreme, you puling worm. Do you believe stopping me can unravel the plans of my master? He plays you like a puppet, fool, backing every ploy with further schemes and machinations. Unraveling one merely looses the trap from another.”

  Henslow held the sword before him, blood dripping to the ground from his slashed palm. “I am but a simple soldier,” he growled, “fighting the battles set before me. I care not for the conspiracies and intrigue of your dark master! Better men than me will answer his depravities!”

  “No?” Rosner’s lips widened in a sneer. “Do you not believe my master has foreseen the attempt to renew the old coalition with the giants? Such an alliance will not happen. Should your friends escape my master’s forces and gain the Dark Mountains, his greater plan is fulfilled.” The mage chuckled, a sound like the rattle of old bones. “Your companions ride to their deaths. And this time, the giants will die with them!”

  Henslow charged, screaming with incoherent rage. Rosner ducked his wild swing, landing a backhanded slap. The strike knocked Henslow backward, leaving him sprawled on the ground, cheek burning from the power of the blow. As he lay there, stunned and clinging to consciousness. Rosner came and stood over him.

  “I could almost wish for a greater challenge,” he hissed, reaching down and wrapping his hand around Henslow’s throat again. For the second time, he squeezed. “But we must take small pleasures wherever we find them.”

  Henslow grappled with the mage, striving to pry loose his deadly hold. But the arm would not yield, as rigid and immovable as a steel bar. Sparks of light appeared before his eyes as his oxygen-starved brain cried out for air. Frantic, he reached out with one hand, scratching and clawing at Rosner’s eyes. The mage snarled, grabbing his arm and slamming it to the ground, bearing down even harder.

  Henslow’s hand smacked against something hard—a rocky outcropping. Frantic, he clawed at it. A fingernail peeled back with a stab of pain, but the slab loosened and broke free. With all his ebbing strength, Henslow slammed the stone against the side of the mage’s head. Rosner’s hand ripped loose as he fell to the side.

  Retching, Henslow gasped for breath as he rolled to his hands and knees. He staggered to his feet and saw the mage already rising, a torn flap of flesh hanging bloodless from his scalp. “No!” Henslow rasped. He swung the rock again, connecting with a loud crunch. Then he sat atop the mage, bringing down the rock again and again, screaming, “Die, damn you! Die!”

  Rosner stopped moving after the third blow, but Henslow didn’t stop until he’d pounded the mage’s skull into an unrecognizable ruin. He rolled off the dead mage, tossing the rock aside, and used the snow to clean his hands. Then he staggered to his feet to check on Victor. He found the soldier alive, but unconscious. Henslow slid his arms under Victor’s shoulders and dragged him closer to the fire before going to retrieve the horses.

  By the time he returned, Victor stirred. Henslow covered him with a blanket, then stirred the fire and began preparing a meal. With a groan, Victor sat up, holding his head. He flinched when he spotted Rosner’s body.

  “It would seem I missed a few things,” he murmured.

  “You did, aye,” Henslow replied, handing him a cup of hot tea. While Victor drank, Henslow explained the mage’s revelations.

  “So Adam and the rest ride into a trap? There must be something we can do.”

  The Captain sighed. “By now they are on the other end of Tantris,” he answered. “There is no aid we can offer which would not come far too late. No, I fear the best we can do is continue on to Seir. Perhaps the Council will know what to do.”

  For the first time in days, Henslow thought about Craigen. “And I have promises to keep.”

  Chapter 28, Second Chance

  Alecia sat by the wide pallet, holding Adam’s hand and watching him, face tight with concern. She’d tried several times to use healing, but something blocked every attempt. Aristomus told her the same had happened following the battle in Codtown. So they made him as comfortable as possible... and waited.

  After several hours, Adam’s eyes fluttered and then opened, “Hey, there.”

  “Oh, Adam! Thank the Power!” She hugged him tight and covered his face in kisses.

  “Whoa! Maybe I should nap a little more often,” he replied with a tired laugh. “What happened?”

  “What happened? You almost killed yourself is what happened.” The stern expression melted away in a smile as her eyes filled with joyful tears. “You healed them, Adam. Every last one of them.” After Alecia helped him to a sitting position, she waved her arm to indicate the room.

  Surrounded by row after row of empty beds, Adam recognized the Hall of Healing.

  “Thank God,” he whispered. “I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time. But at least this one worked out right.” Then he remembered. “What about Craigen?”

  A look of tragic sorrow passed over her face as she shook
her head, “Torlaine is his wife, Adam. Their son became one of the first children struck by the sickness. It is the reason he traveled to Seir; to find help for his son and the rest of the children.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “But... we arrived too late.”

  “How many...” Adam took a deep breath. “How many died?”

  “Adam, you saved three score and eight, many so far gone I... I do not know how even you could save them. Please, focus on them.”

  He grabbed her arm. “How many?”

  Alecia hung her head in defeat. “One score and three.”

  Adam’s head dropped back to the pillow. Eyes clenched shut, he whispered, “Damn.”

  “You share no blame in this, Adam. It lies solely with the Dark Mage.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “Where’s Aristomus?”

  “Father is at the Hall of Elders speaking to the Herrenbourn Council,” she replied. “There is still the matter of arranging an alliance, though there is little doubt of the outcome. The giants go about their business as though nothing happened, but their underlying rage is almost palpable.”

  “Good. It’s about time the Dark Mage learned...” Adam’s mouth spread in a huge yawn. “Sorry. Guess I’m still tired.”

  Alecia leaned down, pressing her lips to Adam’s in a soft, lingering kiss. “Sleep now,” she whispered. “I will bring you something to eat soon.”

  Adam watched as she walked to the door. Somehow, sleep seemed like the last thing he wanted.

  A FEW HOURS LATER, Adam woke feeling much better. He sat up, intending to go in search of Alecia, but froze when he found he had another visitor. Craigen sat, straight and rigid, in a chair at the foot of the bed.

  “Craigen, I’m...” Adam ducked his head in shame. “I’m so sorry.”

  The giant seemed to disregard Adam’s sympathy. “It is the custom of my people,” he said, voice stiff with suppressed emotion, “to share the story of a loved one recently lost. Such sharing provides an outlet for our grief while allowing others to celebrate a life...” A single tear fell from Craigen’s eye, his voice cracking. “...that is no more.

  “For the boon you have done my people, and the sake of a new-formed friendship, I have chosen you to gift this tale.”

  Adam remained silent. Somehow he understood the moment’s significance, the honor Craigen imparted to him.

  “Children are a great benison to my people, Adam. Each birth is a cause for celebration, not just by the family so blessed, but for the entire community. We giants are long-lived, but the time gifted to us for procreation is brief, a period measured in a few short years too soon gone forever. All giants marry young, with none willing to surrender the chance to bring new life into the world.

  “Torlaine and I, like most of my kin, first met when pledged to marry in a union arranged by our parents. Ah, Adam, she was a rare beauty, full of life and vitality. Paired with one such as her, I considered myself the luckiest of giants. The day of our wedding seemed long in coming, with our anticipation so keen.

  “And then,” Craigen’s rumbling voice dropped even lower, “tragedy struck.

  “There could be no fault, no blame, just a terrible accident changing both our lives. Torlaine hiked in the mountains with friends. Perhaps she stepped too close to the edge of the trail. Perhaps a loose rock gave way at the wrong time. Regardless, she fell.

  “We are a resilient race, Adam, but a steep fall onto rocks would likely break the hardiest giant. Yet somehow Torlaine survived. Friends carried her back to Herrenbourn. The healers set her broken bones but could do nothing about the true damage. The accident rendered Torlaine barren.”

  Craigen stood and paced, the difficulty of his tale demanding an outlet. “She would not see me, instead sending a letter releasing me from our engagement. Torlaine freed me to pursue someone else, to continue my life and know the joy of children.

  “But I could not.

  “I went to her, explained what she could or could not give held no sway over my love. I refused to release her, refused to find someone else. ‘And you would ask me to bear the pain of your loss as well?’ she asked. ‘Every time you see a child at play, will you not, deep in your heart, blame me?’ No argument would sway her; no amount of reasoning would convince her I spoke from the heart.

  “Denied motherhood, Torlaine instead dedicated herself to the art of warfare. ‘If I cannot bear children,’ she said, ‘then I will devote my life to defending them.’ She bent herself to the task with a single-minded ferocity, outshining all other students, mastering every facet of blade, bow and spear until she became Herrenbourn’s mightiest warrior.

  “And when no one else could stand against her, when no aspect of combat remained for perfection, Torlaine fell into a depression so profound all who knew her feared for her life. With nothing left to accomplish and no enemies to fight, her life lost all meaning. Only then, when she had come to the end of herself, did she listen.”

  Craigen stopped his frantic pacing and retook his seat. “The next day, she became my wife.

  “Despite my joy, her barrenness cast a shadow of sadness over her life; a shadow I could lighten, but never fully wipe away. She spent her days teaching me the art of combat. And I tried to teach her how to live again. We were happy together, at least as happy as her pain would allow.

  “Words cannot describe our emotions when Torlaine discovered she was pregnant.

  “An impossible achievement, and a miracle beyond all reason. Yet we did not question. We embraced it with all our giantish love of children. It restored Torlaine and her face glowed with the life growing within her. A few months later, she gave birth to a son. We named him Samalah, which in ancient giantish means ‘second chance.’

  Torlaine abandoned her warlike pursuits and immersed herself in motherhood. Samalah completed us both. We became at last the family of our dreams. And so, perhaps in some small way you can understand. We have had all joy and happiness—the very meaning of our lives—ripped from us. There is but one thing left to us now: we must avenge our son. I have been to the Dark Mage’s demesne. I mean to return with Torlaine and put an end to our anguish. Either we will destroy the Dark Mage, or both die in the attempt.

  “I cannot speak for the rest of my people. Perhaps they will renew the old alliance and accompany Master Aristomus to Seir, to make war together with the mages. Torlaine and I will not wait.

  “I ask you to come with us.”

  Shocked by the request, Adam stammered, “Me? I... I don’t know what to say.”

  Craigen stood. “Say nothing for now. We do not leave until the morrow. I ask only you consider my request.” With those words, the giant turned and left.

  Adam had a lot to think about. And not much time to decide.

  ALECIA RETURNED EARLY in the afternoon. When Adam told her about Craigen’s request, she took him to see Aristomus. They found him leaving the Hall of Elders.

  The news stunned the old mage. “You are not considering this, are you, Adam? It is suicide to face the Dark Mage alone. I understand Craigen’s loss, but...”

  “No, Aristomus,” Adam interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not sure anyone could. But I know what Craigen and Torlaine have gone through demands a response.”

  “Aye, it does. But the response must be a decisive one. The elders have agreed to the old alliance. In a few days, we will set out with the giants to link their forces with Seir’s. Only together can we have any hope of defeating the Dark Mage. Dividing our forces now is madness!”

  Alecia stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Aristomus’ arm. “Father, I do not believe it is madness to follow your heart. As long as we do that, the Dark Mage can never defeat us.” She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “It is why I choose to go with Adam.”

  “What?” Aristomus jerked his arm away. “Madness upon madness! I cannot allow you to throw your life away like this. You are my daughter.” His voice sank to a bare whisper. “My only daughter.”

>   “I have to agree with Aristomus on this one,” said Adam. “It’s not a good idea, Alecia.”

  Alecia gave Adam a stern look. “Have you so soon forgotten my promise? I swore I would never again leave you behind. It is a vow I mean to keep.”

  Adam held his hands up in mock surrender as he looked over at her father. “We won’t win this one, Aristomus.” His tone became serious. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect her. You have my word.”

  “Then there is nothing I can say to forestall this lunacy?” When both Adam and Alecia shook their heads, he sighed. “Very well. Then I, too, shall go.”

  “What?” Adam and Alecia shouted at the same time.

  “You heard me,” he replied. “Marshel can escort the giants and make the introductions. If an army of giants cannot make it through to Seir, one mage will make little difference.”

  A shout interrupted any further discussion. A giant, panting and sweat-soaked, ran down the street, straight for the Hall of Elders.

  “What happens?” Aristomus called.

  The giant slowed just long enough to answer, “The Dark Mage comes!”

  Chapter 29, Ultimatum

  The giants rushed to arm themselves, assembling in the street under Torlaine’s command. Craigen stayed close by her side. Compelled to divide her forces, she sent a third to the eastern end of the valley to protect against a rearward assault. Until her scouts returned, she didn’t know where the attack might come. Children and other noncombatants gathered at the Hall of Healing, ready to flee to the surrounding mountains as soon as Torlaine determined the safest means of escape.

  The mages met with Marshel to plan their strategy. Adam and Aristomus received two soldiers each to protect their backs in the coming battle. The remaining three went to Alecia. The mages would split up, positioning themselves on the rooftops to take advantage of elevation to better engage the enemy. Preparations made, they settled in to wait.