by Jon Bender
Passing through the small sitting room Jaxom entered his even smaller bedroom, containing a bed large enough to hold two people and an old armoire with his meager selection of clothing and personal items. Opening the double doors of the armoire he found his sword right where he had left it, tucked safely in the back still sheathed on his sword belt. Reaching in, he pulled his most prized possession from its hiding place. The hilt wrapped in leather for better grip long enough for a two handed hold, the pommel made into the shape of a skull. The blade itself a gleaming thirty-six inches of double edged steel, four inches at its widest point. Drawing it partly out of the plain leather scabbard, he admired its craftsmanship as he ran a hand down its length. Not having the same direct offensive castings of other schools Jaxom had learned the use of mundane weapons, a practice that had been scoffed at by other mages in the castle who had seen him training daily with the Guard. It had never bothered him that they thought him foolish for learning how to fight with steel, as they considered casting to be much more formidable than swordsmanship making the later a waste of time. That training had proven them wrong when it had saved his life on occasion.
This sword was no ordinary weapon made in the bellows of a blacksmith, but forged by an earth and fire mage who had spent a day and a night forming it. Using their magic to heat and fold the steel thousands of times, creating a near indestructible blade with a fine edge. That alone had cost him ten gold marks each for their services and it was coin they had earned. The magical craftsmanship however was not what truly made this blade special, it was the enchantment that he added once they had finished its making. Enchanting was not an ability common among all mages, and not every mage who could enchant was ever completely successful. A mage had to use raw energy, forming it do something specific that was not always in line with their school of magic. No one knew why some mages were capable of creating magic that differed from what they could cast. Many believed that the power hinted at a deeper hidden ability to control all forms of magic, but Jaxom had never controlled any type of magic besides his own, and he had never heard of anyone else doing so. If a mage could control all forms of magic, that person would be able to rival the gods in power.
Whatever the reason for his ability, he was glad to be one of the few who had it. This enchantment had been his most intricate and time consuming work. Taking him almost a full ten day to imbue it with enough energy for what he intended, now the sword was capable of absorbing energy and redirecting that magic back outward. As far as he knew this blade was the first of its kind, and he had no intention of sharing the process of its creation. It was very common for mages to keep secret how they formed certain spells, and more so with enchantments which were so difficult to create. Replacing the blade back in its hiding spot he picked out a white tunic, simple black pants, and underclothes before closing the armoire again.
It was a short walk to the bathing rooms which were a simple series of small chambers containing tubs and shelves. Passing the attendant responsible for maintaining the area he continued to a room and walked in closing the door behind him. Tuning the lever which allowed water to flow from an outside source, he began filling the tub as he undressed. Removing the travel stained shirt and pants, he set them to the side as the water began to steam. The tub was made of stone with a wood stopper at the bottom plugging the drain. The stone itself held an enchantment of heat to keep the water warm and comfortable, a piece of magic that had survived since before the Mage Wars. Sliding slowly into the water, Jaxom leaned back and let the warmth soak into him, easing away tension he had not known was there. After dunking his head under, he went about the task of scrubbing away the dirt and grime with a bar of soap left on a small table nearby. Slipping back under the water to rinse away the soap he emerged to find a man a few years older than his own twenty-five years staring down at him, a look of dissatisfaction clearly evident on his bearded face. Corin Baldrin was only a couple inches taller than he himself was, with blond hair that came to his thick shoulders framing clear blue eyes, a sharp nose, and a strong jaw, he was an imposing figure. He wore a dark blue robe over a red shirt, light brown pants belted with a silver falcons head buckle.
“Your majesty,” Jaxom stammered, wondering if he should stand then deciding it better to stay where he was, the cloudy water still conserving some of his dignity.
“Don’t your majesty me,” he replied. “You were supposed to report to me the moment you arrived back.”
“I thought you would be in bed your majesty, and that it could wait till morning,” Jaxom retuned a little more sharply than he should have.
“That’s the problem right there, you are not supposed to think. Only do what you are told,” the King said while staring into Jaxom’s dark eyes with ire. A moment of awkward silence settled over the small room as Jaxom thought about how he should explain himself, not knowing what he had done to cause such anger in his friend. Then the firm line of the king’s lips broke into a smile as he began to laugh loudly from his stomach.
“I swear by the goddess,” he said between laughs. “You should have seen the look on your face.”
“Yes your majesty, a good joke,” he said lamely. Not appreciating that his first real bath in a ten day had been interrupted for the man’s amusement.
“How many times have I told you Jaxom, call me Corin when it’s just us. We are friends after all.”
“Fine… Corin, would you get out so I can dress or would you prefer I give my report in the bare?” Jaxom said instantly regretting it. The jovial man might decide to make him do so to further his little joke.
Thankfully he didn’t take the bait this time. “No that’s fine. Meet me in my quarters when you are finished, but make it quick. I am sure that you have much to tell me about Denra,” he said. Heading for the door he turned around at the last second. “And why people have been saying that a man on a demon horse has been traipsing around my city,” he said with a mischievous smile before continuing on his way shutting the door behind him. Sighing quietly Jaxom relaxed back into the water, silently berating himself for riding in on that horse. Not for fear of punishment from the King, but that he would never hear the end of it now.
The King’s chambers were located at the center of the castle, as far from any possible danger as they could be. Jaxom passed six guard posts and two patrols on his way there, though none stopped him knowing who he was. Arriving at the large iron bound double doors. Another pair of armored men in the king’s blue livery with the golden falcon embroidered on their chests stood watch. These men were not normal soldiers but the King’s personal guard whose only job was to protect the King at all costs. They numbered only one hundred, specifically chosen for their martial abilities and loyalty to the king. Seeing him approach one knocked on the door to which a rough “Come in,” was shouted from within.
Opening the door the guard allowed Jaxom in closing it behind him. Corin was sitting at a table pouring over papers, most likely reports from scouts moving throughout the kingdoms keeping him apprised of the situation. Standing, he poured wine into a pair of glasses handing one to Jaxom. Gesturing for him to take a seat on one of the couches, Jaxom sat down and waited. Remaining standing himself, the King paced back and forth which Jaxom suspected was a habit he maintained because it seemed to make those sitting more uncomfortable.
Stopping he looked at Jaxom. “Well get on with it, what did you see?”
“Denra lost,” Jaxom said.
“That’s it? They lost?” the King said in incredulous tone.
“What more do you want! They were destroyed,” Jaxom said, anger rising in his voice. Forgetting that it was not just his friend he was speaking to, but his king. “Forgive me your majesty, I did not mean to lose my temper.”
The king waved away the apology. “Forget it. I understand it could not have been easy to see but I need more than they lost.”
“The fort was razed and none were left alive,” he said.
“They destroyed it? Then they
don’t intend to occupy Denra. That makes sense with that new bandit lord that has been causing them trouble in their own land,” the king said.
“Bandit Lord?” Jaxom asked.
“Yes, apparently he is not your average bandit leader. He is well organized, enough so to attack some of the minor nobles on the borders of Kelran. The reports I have received say that he started off as just another thief, but rumors have been spreading that he has designs on the throne.”
“Then why would the king of Kelran send his army off now?”
“King Dillion has always been rash, perhaps he considers this bandit a nuisance that he can ignore for the moment while he weakens Denra,” Corin replied.
“Could it have been this bandit that had his uncle killed?” Jaxom asked. King Dillion’s uncle Duke Henrick, had been murdered in his bed four weeks ago. According to scout reports, evidence had been found that Denra was involved. The murder was just one more in a series of noble killings that had set the known world on the path to war.
“I doubt it, this bandit would gain nothing from killing him. The duke had no real political power, he was only responsible for trade in and out of Denra. If anything it would hurt the bandit to have the man dead, disrupted trade will make robbing wagons more difficult and that much harder to fund his coup.” Letting out a long sigh the King took a seat opposite Jaxom draining his glass in a swallow. “Do these idiots who call themselves rulers not see that they are being played for fools? Can they not see that there is a pattern to all this? Created by someone who wants to see us weakened.”
“We cannot concern ourselves with what they do not see Corin, only on what we can do about it,” Jaxom replied. He did not envy his friend the decisions he was going to have to make. Ale’adaria could not remain neutral much longer unless they were to watch the world tear itself apart. “Have you found out anything on who is committing the murders?”
“Not much, only that a few of the assassins were seen in black clothes before escaping and that they seem to be able to meld into the darkness itself,” Corin said.
“Do you suspect casting?” Jaxom asked, worried that this vie for power could be coming from mages. There had been a time when mages had ruled as Kings and Queens hundreds of years ago. Not many writings about that time still existed, most being destroyed in the Mage Wars. What little there was said it had been a time of great suffering, and the law forbidding mages to ever rule again had been created. A law agreed to by all surviving mages and the rulers who had come to power. Since then no mage had ever sought power of that sort again, many instead choosing to serve the new leaders of the Kingdoms.
“It would seem that some form of casting was involved, but I have never heard of any mage being able to disappear into shadows. Have you?” The king asked, to which Jaxom shook his head. “Well, we will just have to keep our scouts looking for more information on who is behind all of this and hope we get lucky.”
Letting out a great sigh the king stood again. “I guess that’s it for the night Jaxom…” a knock at the door interrupted him. “Come,” Corin shouted in reply.
General Nelix Blackburn was a short boulder of a man whose head came in just under Jaxom’s chin. What the General lacked in height he more than made up for in girth, with arms that came close to the size of most men’s thighs and shoulders that could be used as anvils. He was a grizzled war veteran with white in his once solid black hair, a long scar ran from under the collar of his blue tunic up the right side of his neck stopping at the blocky features of his face. His grey eyes scanned the room as if expecting a threat, which was how he treated any space he walked into. Those same eyes paused momentarily on Jaxom whom he gave a slight nod, which for Nelix was the equivalent of a pat on the back.
“What is it Nelix?” Corin asked. Bowing at the waist the general handed him a letter with a broken falcon seal, showing that he had already read the report. Taking the letter the King unfolded it and began to read, his face first showing apprehension then changing to anger.
“Dradon and Azuria have started moving north,” the King said without looking up. Controlled rage evident in his voice.
Dradon and Azuria were Ale’adaria’s southern neighbors. The two kingdoms had been allies for generations, even when war had broken out they had remained true to that alliance. The land the two kingdoms inhabited was not as fertile as Ale’adria, with its many rivers that sustained the land even in times of drought. They had always been envious but had never dared to attack, concerned that other kingdoms would join against them to protect the abundant trade of grain and wool that Ale’adaria sold. It seemed that with the other kingdoms preoccupied, they had decided that now was an opportune time to expand, claiming the more prosperous northern land as their own.
“When?” Jaxom asked.
“Five days ago,” Corin said looking up with a hard edge still in his voice. “If they are making good time they will be at our border in nine. Nelix begin assembling the army and inform the mages of the situation, tell them there services will be needed.”
“Already done, your majesty,” the general replied.
“Good, send messengers to the southern nobles with orders to gather their men at arms and provincials. Instruct the nobles to bring them to the capital, from here those not essential to the war effort will be sent to other holds that are not in harm’s way,” the King said.
The General stood quietly for a moment considering. “Some of the nobles will not want to leave their holdings without a fight your majesty.”
“I do not care what they want General! I am their King and they will obey!” Corin snapped suddenly. Nelix continued to stand calmly showing no outward emotion at the outburst. The King stared hard at the older man for a moment before seeming to snap himself out of it. “Forgive me Nelix. Tell them that their king wishes it, and those who do not comply will be dealt with at a later date. If they survive...”
“As you command your majesty,” the general said. Continuing to keep his calm demeanor. Turning on his heel to leave Nelix stopped half way through the door to regard the King. “You get your temper from your father, he too would speak in anger. He however, would never apologize when he saw the fault in his words. I am proud to see that the son has surpassed his father as a leader.” The king looked at Nelix nodding his thanks before the general closed the door behind him.
After he was gone the King looked to Jaxom. “Well my friend, are you ready for this? I doubt any man, soldier, or mage will have ever seen your type of casting before.”
It was true, many knew he was a death mage but few even among other mages had ever seen his true abilities. They may have heard the stories or read books on what his casting was capable of, but reading about it and seeing it where two different things. As far as he and Corin knew, Jaxom was the only living Death Mage. The line thought to have been wiped out during the mage wars.
“Whatever comes I will be where you need me, besides you know what you are like when I am not around,” Jaxom said. “If I wasn’t there to reign you in, you would charge into the evil horde set on turning back the tide alone and Ale’adaria would be short one foolhardy king.” Jaxom laughed at his own joke.
Corin joined in his laughter. “Say’s the man who thought it would be a good idea to sneak into the great hall so we could sit in father’s throne.”
“It seemed like a good idea to me at the time,” Jaxom replied. “Besides, you were there right along with me.”
“Yes, father really laid into us that day,” he paused his laughter fading. “You know he considered you a son, he would not have punished you himself had he not. Just as I consider you my brother.”
Jaxom had known that, and been grateful to both of them for it. He had been found on the side of the road by the King who had been traveling to one of his noble’s holdings. He had been a small boy about five years old, wearing rags with no one around to claim him. Corin’s father had sent messengers to the surrounding towns to search for Jaxom’s parents or family b
ut none was ever found. The King had taken him in as his own and raised him as such. It was around his fourteenth year he discovered he could cast. Those born with the ability were a part of a blood line passed down from their ancestors. Not knowing where he had come from, it had never occurred to Jaxom that he would be able to cast himself.
The first time it happened was when Corin and he had been in the palace gardens playing near a large pine. Corin had discover a dead squirrel at the base of the tree and being boys they had looked over it wondering what had killed the creature. Jaxom could feel something left of the small animal, an energy vibrating around its small body. On instinct alone he tried to touch what was there and finding he could pull that energy into himself. He could not say why he did it, maybe just to see if he could, but he directed what he had gathered back to the squirrel. The remains began to twitch and move before finally standing on its four small paws. After that it was evident what he was capable of and what type of mage he was, a type that was believed to no longer exist for hundreds of years.
The King assigned a storm mage named Elaine to instruct him in how to control his gift, a kind women who did her best to instruct him in the basics of casting. She did what she could in teaching him how to draw energy, an ability common to all mages, also telling him what she knew of death mages. Stories that had been passed down from mage to mage or in books she had read. Jaxom still thought kindly of her for the compassion she had shown him, though it was obvious that he sometimes made her uncomfortable with what he could do. When she had reached a point where there was nothing more she could teach him, it had been up to Jaxom to learn what he could on his own. He would practice his new abilities away from other people so as to not upset them, discovering the limits of the energy and his own body. Over the years he learned more control and subtlety, gaining confidence in his skills. Traditionally a mage was to be tested by others of their school to determine whether or not they are ready for the title of magus. When he had brought the matter up to his adoptive father, the King had said when Jaxom felt he was ready to tell him and he would make it so. Three years later after endless hours of practice and experimentation Jaxom returned saying that he was ready. On the following day the King called his court together, inviting all the mages in his service to attend, decreeing by royal proclamation that Jaxom was given the title of magus. Elaine had been the only mage in attendance to congratulate him.
