The Isle of Mists: An Epic Mage Fantasy Adventure (Legend of Ecta Mastrino Book 3)

by BJ Hanlon

  It felt as if he were a dematian walking through an elven borough.

  Edin approached it and met a wall much the same as the castle’s. Short, but this one was stone and mortar and covered in green spindly vines. The half-moon cast an eerie halo around the cone-shaped top.

  He found the gate, wrought iron and chained. Atop it, pounded out in black metal, were words in Ulstapish that he couldn’t understand. Another sign across the front said, ‘No Trespassing by order of the Praesidium.’

  He felt the urge to ignore it. Heck, no one was guarding the gate. Edin touched the cool metal and glanced back toward the dark street. It was completely empty like the ruins outside the manor or the tree in the Ghost Hollow. Edin shivered and put his hand to his flask. It comforted him like it had so many times before.

  Edin gipped the iron bars. The gate was about ten feet high. He pulled but still felt little give. The urge in him began to feel more like a need. He must get inside.

  He circled the wall until he found a vine thick enough to climb. He was wobbly, his grip soft, and his head wavered like a sapling in a breeze.

  Sliding the brown paper package of work uniforms beneath a small shrub, he began to climb. He felt weak as he reached the top, his legs burned and he glanced down. Despite the short drop, a dizziness washed over him causing him to sway.

  Edin peeked down to the other side. He could barely see anything in the shadow of the tower. Keep going, he thought. Not sure why. A few moments later, he swung his leg around the half foot ledge and tried wedging it in a crook of a thick vine. It held.

  Lowering himself till he was hanging, Edin dropped into a raspy bush and stumbled, falling to his side with a muted crash. He stood warily and brushed himself off.

  Edin looked up, ahead of him was an overgrown gravel pathway circling the tower. It reminded him of the hallway around the agora, though not made with stone. This was older, more primitive.

  Edin stumbled out of the brush and followed it toward the gate. A minute later, he was standing before a tall statue of a mage in flowing robes. His head was hooded as he bent over an open tome in one hand, his staff stood tall in the other.

  Gooseflesh ran over his body despite it being nearly the same temperature as the day time.

  Edin circled the statue. He had a strange feeling that it would turn with him.

  It didn’t.

  Swallowing, he looked away toward the cracked stairs leading up toward the arched entry doors. The entrance seemed somehow familiar.

  On the giant knocker hanging from both doors, there was the face of a man with wicked upturned lips and slanted evil eyes. It could’ve been a man or a god.

  This place was abandoned right…

  But what if it wasn’t? The stories of ghosts, spirits haunting places like the elven ruins… and then there was the draugr…

  Edin wished he had his sword. A draft of air whistled through the gap between the doors like a mournful bellow.

  He could taste and smell the musty air from inside. Edin pressed his hands against one of the doors and pushed. It swung open noiselessly as if the hinges had been oiled. When there was a foot of room, Edin slipped inside to a foyer.

  Surprisingly, there was light. Above his head, hung large black chandelier with at least a hundred tiny flames sprouting from what looked like candles. However, there were no wax drippings anywhere. Flurries of dust floated about the streaming light like bugs swarming a carcass.

  Why was the light on if it were abandoned? His gooseflesh seemed to triple if that was even possible.

  The foyer had three doors, one on each side and a third in front of him. The one on the right was partially open offering a small, barely lit stairwell heading up. He assumed the left was some sort of closet. Edin went forward and rested his hand on the small knob in front of him. It was nearly ice cold. He tried turning it. Locked.

  Above him, he heard the wraithlike wind. At least he hoped it was the wind…

  This was not a place he was meant to be, “that could be said about this whole damn island.” Edin whispered.

  Edin went to the stairs and pushed the door open further looking up toward the dark stairwell before him.

  The uneasy feeling stayed with him, Edin swallowed and pushed it down and held out his palm and let an ethereal ball light his path.

  As he climbed, he passed small windows that offered little view. He ignored closed ratty doors on squat and squalid landings as the stairs circled the tower. Though his legs were already crying from the day’s labor, he pushed up.

  The randomly spaced windows offered little light. After hundreds of stairs and with sweat gluing his clothes to his body, it ended. A wood door banded with iron strips stood before him. This door, a bit nicer than the rest, shiny and polished held the same old man’s face as the front gate.

  Edin took a step forward and touched it. The wood was cold. He tried the lever handle. It wouldn’t budge.

  Near the center of the door, he found a small circle in the gaping mouth of the god man. It was as if he was supposed to stick something down the throat.

  After all of the climbing and the trespassing, Edin drank from the flask. He wasn’t going to be denied.

  Edin pushed harder down on the lever and used his shoulder against the door. No movement.

  Slowly, Edin began to notice an odor coming from beyond it, almost like a fire that had just been put out. He pictured a cozy, warm fire, one he’d share with Arianne… the woman who dismissed him like a slave as soon as she got what she wanted.

  A picture formed in his mind of her… in it, he saw her chambers in Erastio’s Rise on her canopy bed tucked under the covers. Next to her was Casitas. Edin pictured her bare shoulders, the blanket pulled up covering her chest, but just barely.

  Edin felt his stomach twist as fury… anger… then energy and power rose up in him. It flowed like a raging torrent through his legs and chest and into his arms.

  He pressed a hand to the door and let it out.

  For a moment, nothing happened… then he felt it. A concussive blast of some sort. His ears rang and his head pounded. A moment later he was off his feet and slammed backwards into the wall.

  All the air poured from his chest, his head snapped back and he felt the pain in his skull. Then everything went black.

  Edin opened his eyes into the darkness. From somewhere came the soft glow of moonlight. Pain pounded his brain.

  “Ow…” Edin moaned and reached up for it.

  Edin touched a sticky lump on the back of his head and bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He rolled over and tried sitting up. A wave of nausea poured over him and he leaned his forehead against a cold stone wall.

  He had no idea how long he’d sat like that, and for a while, didn’t remember where he was.

  Then he did. He looked back toward the moonlight and saw the door was gone. He grabbed the flask and took a drink. It did nothing for the pain.

  Using the wall, Edin stood and stumbled into the room. Scraps of wood dotted the ground like hail from a freak storm. A large chunk that looked like a listing ship was imbedded in the side of an old wooden trunk.

  Moonlight came in from a pair of balconies to his right. He looked around and could see four balconies in all, pointed he thought, in the cardinal directions. The moonlight, however, barely penetrated a few feet inside leaving the shadows of misshapen arches on the floor.

  At the center sat a large object on wheels. It looked old and Edin saw a large lens at the end of a thick tube.

  An observatory? He’d had a small telescope as a child in which Master Horston tried to teach him about the constellations. His lessons hadn’t really worked. Arianne’s did a bit.

  ‘“What do the stars have to do with life?” Edin had asked.

  “Everything… nothing,” Horston answered in a cryptic fashion.’

  He probably wacked Edin with a ruler afterwards but Edin had no recollection of that.

  The walls were cast in shadows, too black to pen
etrate.

  On the ground were rags, pens, disintegrating parchment. He felt the floor, wood that was spongy and rotted. The smell of mold said this was a room unused in many years.

  Who was the last person here? Edin padded toward the eastern opening and saw the glowing walls of the castle a hundred or more yards away.

  It took up most of the view, Edin stepped out into the night and stared. The windows were lit by unending torches and unburning candles.

  It was a beautiful view, one he wished he could’ve shared.

  He looked at the bright lights of the castle alone as darkened figures flittered in and out past doors and windows. He wondered where she was. Which was her window.

  Edin leaned against the stone banister and began to feel something bubbling up.

  Then he began to wonder if anyone had heard the blast. Edin looked down toward the street and saw naught but darkness. A moment later, he realized he didn’t care. Let them throw him in the dungeon.

  Edin leaned over the banister. Below was a long drop to the courtyard. He estimated twelve stories, how long would it take to fall that far he wondered.

  Why was he thinking that?

  Sounds of life carried on the wind. Laughter, string instruments, a bard singing. Dephina.

  There also had to be teachers down there like Horston. Guards like Grent and Foristol. Ship hands like the pirates he’d killed; soldiers like the ones at the dry docks.

  So much death because of him. Now he was here, a place where his life could be peaceful but hard. It was what his mother wanted for him, but he was alone. This was no utopia for him.

  Edin drank. The flask was nearly gone. Like I am, he thought.

  Tears began to well in his eyes. Edin looked down again, sniffled, and wiped his nose with his sleeve. He had to fight them…

  Another soft breeze blew over him, caressing him gently. Maybe it would turn into a tornado and throw him over for a quick death. But a moment later, he knew it was done with him.

  The old tower creaked and moaned. He emptied the flask and then tilted it straight up and stuck his tongue out hoping to catch a drop. One landed on the tip, then it was all gone.

  Edin felt all used up and stared down at the dizzying ground below him. He glanced back at the castle and again wondered what she was doing.

  She doesn’t want you, no one does. The thought hit hard because it was true.

  Why couldn’t he have just been born mundane. Why had his father cursed him with this… abominable talent?

  He could’ve lived out his life in Yaultan, maybe married Kes, had children and raised them to be strong men and ladies. He’d let them train with the sword, he’d help them become proud nobles.

  But no. “I’m the monster,” Edin whispered harshly. “I’m the one parents warn their kids of.”

  He didn’t need this life anymore. It wasn’t worth it.

  It’s an easy fix. Edin thought.

  He found himself slipping a foot on the stone banister and pushing himself up. Edin stood in the open air far above the merciful courtyard. A soft wind blew through his short hair.

  Here was quiet, here was peace. The wind didn’t care, neither did the trees, the bushes, or the ground so far below. There could be no more pain, loneliness, or suffering.

  “Do it,” a voice called from behind him. It sounded old, a little crackly like sparks from a smith’s hammer. The voice struck Edin at first as just a figment of his imagination.

  Edin opened his eyes and saw the stars far above him.

  “Pretty much the worst thing you can do to people who care about you,” the voice came again, this time, he was certain it wasn’t his own thought. “But hey, just do it. You’ll be saving Pharont a heck of a lot of trouble.”

  Edin turned his head but could only see dark shadows inside the tower.

  “Who’s there?” Edin asked. No answer. His arms began to feel heavy like he’d just left the river with soaking clothes. “No one cares about me.”

  A snort came from the darkness. “Go ahead, I’ll just tell the princess you were a coward.”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  Before Edin knew what he was doing, he was off of the banister and on the balcony. Edin stepped into the darkness and held out his hand about to summon the ethereal ball.

  “Cease that… it’ll draw attention,” the voice creaked again. It came from a dark corner between two of the balcony openings. A moment later, a small flame appeared and Edin saw the face, old and wrinkled. “Something you do not need right now.”

  “You were at my welcoming… I’m sorry I forgot your name.”

  “Welcoming?” He snorted. “Did not feel very welcoming to me,” he said then lit a pipe, sucked in and blew out white smoke that hung in the dark room. “Mersett Bolisona.”

  Edin wiped his eyes.

  “That is the problem with you spirit magi, so emotional. It is said that the philios burns bright and fast, then die. But I’ve heard that said about many things. The sun still burns bright, not sure about fast and I certainly hope it will not die before I do.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Question is, what are you? This tower has been off limits for quite some time. Pharont would have no trouble getting the council to banish you if you were caught here. Though it seems you have planned your own way out.” A soft whistle came from the old man, then a smack of the lips followed by a cough.

  Edin moved a few steps closer but kept himself in the moonlight. He felt safer there. “I’m banished already, I work in the fields and have lost the one person…”

  “What are you too good for a laborer? Your father would slap you.”

  An anger grew, suddenly and rapidly like an avalanche after the first crack of ice. “I’d slap him…” Edin spat. “He made me what I am, abandoned me… everyone abandons me.”

  “He did what he had to. And not everyone abandoned you so quit your blubbering, you sound like an old maid who shrunk the laundry.”

  “Old…” he took a breath. “You’re the only old thing here. I’m not emotional…”

  “Evidence to the contrary dear boy,” Mersett snorted and a moment later, the ember in the pipe grew brighter. He was seated on a wooden crate near a book case. “So will you jump?”

  “Haven’t made up my mind,” Edin said readjusting his trousers. “Have you come to tell me not to? How’d you even know where I was?”

  “I’m on the council,” he said as if that answered it. “For now, at least.” This was much quieter.

  A few moments later, he remembered the dark cloaked man from before the tavern… did he continue following Edin afterward and Edin didn’t notice? “That man that followed me, that was…”

  “An associate.”

  “Le Fie? Or is it Iashah?”

  “It wasn’t him, but he hates Iashah.” Mersett paused for a long while and gazed out toward the castle. “You know, you and your father are quite alike.”

  Edin tilted his head. How could he be, he hadn’t seen the man in more than a decade and knew nothing about him.

  “This was Rihkar’s favorite spot too.”

  It took Edin a moment then he remembered what his mother told him. “The Boganthean Tower?”

  “Yes, Rihkar was cleverer than you, boy. He’d never let anyone know he made it up here until he was already gone. Certainly wouldn’t blow open the door like it were made of parchment. How’d you do that by the way?”

  “Did anyone ever catch him?”

  Bolisona snorted.

  “Then how do you…”

  “He told me, though I had suspected as much. The boy tended to show up with old parchments and books.”

  “What is this place?”

  “A place of study for the ancient magi. When your princess’s father ruled, there were but a few hundred living here, learning and experimenting.”

  “She’s not my princess.”

  “A girl breaks up with you and now you want to end it all? Moody teenager
s never change.” The old man dug into his robe for a moment and pulled out a long golden stick with a sharp point at the end. It glimmered as the firelight caught it.

  Was it some magical device? A wand or something. “What’s that?” For some reason he had a bit of hope building that there was something more to it…

  The old man raised an eyebrow, then looked at the stick before sticking it into the pipe. “It’s to break up the tobacco…” Mersett said then started moving it around. “So you’re not going to take the cowardly way out?”

  “I wasn’t going to do it,” Edin said.

  He sighed. “Well, I suppose that’s fine, would’ve made Pharont look bad. A new magi, first philios in hundreds of years, kills himself after only a day on the isle.” He was adding something to his pipe now and then started thumbing it down. “Planning on staying a farmhand, are you?”

  Edin shrugged, “I guess I’m only passing through.”

  “If only that fat blotard knew what you could do… and wouldn’t want you dead for it. The isles aren’t a good fit for all.” He paused and took a drag on his pipe. “But out there it is much more dangerous.” He let the words dangle for a moment. “Your father was a good pupil of mine when I still taught. How much spellcraft do you know?”

  “None…” Edin said.

  “I see, your talent can only get you so far you know. Your roommate is a teacher at the college, ask him to teach you.”

  “Dorset? He and I don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

  “He can be a bit of a stubborn ass.” Mersett shook his head slowly. “But if you can get him to help, maybe this won’t be a wasted trip.” Mersett’ s eyes dropped as if he were looking down past the warped floorboards. “Spellcraft is a bit of a lost art; most folk like to rely on their natural talent rather than the hard study, learning Ulstapish and all. One day you may want to return to this tower and visit the lower floors. A lot of knowledge can be found there. Now, I’m going home, these old bones need a rest. Leave ten minutes after me, I don’t want it looking like we were together.”

  It was nearly two in the morning when he reached the Reaches. Another night of little sleep. Edin glanced toward the slumbering Dorset, his hair hung loosely over his face as he squeezed a pillow tight to his chest as if it were a woman. The man’s mouth moved as if speaking then stopped. There was spittle on the pillow.