A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

by Wilkerson, Brian

  “What happened here?” one demanded.

  “A warrior with a huge sword knocked him out!” Eric pointed further down the tunnel. “He ran that way, shouting for the princess!”

  “Abyss take it. Another rescuer is all we need. Come on, let's go!”

  Eric ran with them until the next tunnel and then wheezed from exhaustion. The group leader called him a worthless chunk of dung then told him to guard the tunnel and inform them if he saw the intruder again. Said intruder nodded and dropped out of the pack. Once they were out of sight, he smirked. Those wheezes were fake. He still needed a swig of Mana Juice on his way back, though.

  Kill them! They will sound the alarm as soon as they awake!

  Nah, I got a better idea.

  An idea better than mine!?

  Poetic Justice.

  Dragging the other rogue into the cell, he shackled their arms and legs. Then he ripped off sections of the second guy's cloak to make blindfolds and gags. Then, because he was a practical-minded mercenary, he stripped them of their valuables: weapons, armor, gold, and other items. The keystone necklaces looked particularly expensive: a pink diamond housed inside a larger white crystal so pure it was transparent. All this loot he stashed in his pack. There was so much he had to wedge it in. Far from frustrated, he was giddy.

  With all this stuff, coming down here will be worth it even if Kasile escapes on her own!

  You sound like a mercenary.

  I am a mercenary. He shouldered his pack and raced down the hallway. Despite the additional weight, it felt lighter than it had all day.

  Wearing the keystone and black cloak transformed him into Dark Staff. No one else questioned his allegiance and he even got a tip on Kasile's location. He could barely restrain his laughter. Following the tip, he spotted a flash of silk beyond the next corner. He dashed for it. Euphoria filled him. I'll keep my promise! I'll redeem myself! The Altar of Rebirth was worth it!

  There she was. After nearly a month of planning and preparing, Kasile was right there in front of him. All her jewelry was gone, her hair was tousled, and her dress was stained with blood. It might have been the side effects of breathing too much Fog, but he decided to surprise her. Instead of her good friend, she saw a stranger wearing a black cloak and fired a mana bolt at him. It pierced his barrier and beamed him on the head. A second struck him from behind and he blacked out.

  The mage awoke to a crackling fire. He blinked twice and rubbed his forehead.

  It was a steel room but furnished better than a cell. With a fine desk and chairs, pictures behind thick glass and a bookshelf, it could be a warden's office. His staff lay at his side. With these, he came to the conclusion that whoever hit him wasn't his enemy. The fire was in the center of the room and warmed two people: Kasile and someone with blood red hair.

  The only other people he'd seen with this shade were Basilard and his nieces, Mia and Raki. His shirt and pants were interwoven with metal plates and his gauntlets reached his knuckles. Eric would bet his staff they hid an ace or two. He sat up and the rustle of his clothes attracted the man's attention. He gazed at Eric with blood red eyes.

  “Oh, good, you're awake,” he said with a smile. “Sorry about konking you on the head. With that cloak, I thought you were with them.”

  Eric smiled in return, though his was rather pained. “Yeah, that was kinda the point.” To Kasile he added, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I'm fine. And you?”

  He rubbed the back of his head. “Considering the double headshot, I'm feeling pretty good.”

  “Sorry again, I never thought someone would get here before us.”

  “Who are you, anyway?“

  The man extended his hand. “Police force in charge of Ataidar Sector 1: The Bloody Daggers. I'm their chief and royal spokesman, Plas Bladi.”

  Eric shook his hand. “Would you be related to a Basilard Bladi?”

  “Oh yeah, he's my li’l bro. Do you know him?”

  “He's my sergeant.”

  Plas's whole face lit up. “Wonderful! It's about time he took another team!”

  “Another team?” He knew Basilard had other students but he never said he had another team. He never gave it much thought before, but now his curiosity was piqued. “He had one in the past?”

  “I'm sure he'll tell you about it . . . When he's ready.”

  Eric knew it wasn't a long story; this one was long and painful. “How long ago was it?”

  Plas grinned. “Gonna do a little detective work?”

  Eric shrugged. “I just want to know how long my mentor took a break from being one.”

  “If you're so curious, why don't you ask that nutcase . . . what's his name . . .Aaloon?”

  Eric still had bruises from his last encounter with the Record Keeper. “I'm not that curious.”

  “How about a deal: You tell me how you're here and I'll tell you how long ago Basilard had a team. The princess told me everything but how you found her.”

  The truth was out of the question. Even for a world of magic and monsters, having a ghost in your head wasn't normal. Even if it was, he promised the old healer of Kyraa he would keep Dengel a secret, so he opted for a middle road.

  “By way of telepathy, I was informed that Kasile was being held in the sewer. My source never gave me a name so I don't know who it could be.”

  Plas put his hands on his hips. “That gives me more questions than answers.”

  “He gave you all the information he could, so answer his question.” Kasile pointed regally and added. “Don't make me go 'Royal Decree' on you.”

  Plas held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. It's been eight years.”

  There was a knock on the door and a voice said, “Chief! Status Report!” Without standing, Plas told them to come in. The door opened and two people entered. One man and one woman; one wore light armor and the other a runed robe.

  “All the rogues have been arrested,” the man said. “Except the mastermind. Even under truth serum, none of them knew his name. All they said was 'red eyes.'” Plas' own red eyes narrowed. “All of them resisted arrest and ten were killed, plus one more who was reported dead before we arrived.”

  “All of their equipment has been confiscated,” the woman said. “The current loot count is twenty five different weapons of good quality steel and workmanship, the same amount of light armor of equal quality, a stockpile of various items, mostly negative status effect, and enough food and water to last another three months. The loot crew is still looking for secret stashes. There were also two men shackled in one of the cells, both asleep and naked.”

  Eric hid a smile.

  “Good work. Anything else?”

  “Yes, Chief,” the woman said. “We searched the cells and you were right. We found eighteen sapients locked up. One of them is Second Duke Siron of Esrah. They're being cared for as we speak.”

  “One more thing, Chief,” the man said. “There is one among the suspects who insists he is a mercenary of the Dragon's Lair, but lacks the badge proving so.”

  Eric and Kasile quickly glanced at each other. “Does he have spiky purple hair?”

  “And a zanbatou?”

  Both messengers chuckled.

  “Yeah,” the woman said. “I asked if he was compensating and he went berserk. Even handcuffed it took four of us to hold him down.”

  “Culmus!” both mercenary and princess said simultaneously.

  “You know him?” the man asked.

  “He came with me to rescue Kasile,” Eric said.

  “We'll vouch for his identity,” Kasile said.

  Plas shrugged. “Good enough for me. Order his release and the return of his belongings.”

  “Ah abyss . . .” the man groaned. “I was looking forward to using that giant sword . . . . .”

  “Oh come on!” Even as the door closed, Eric heard her talking. “You can't even lift it!”

  He stared at the door and the so-called “police” beyond i
t. They lacked uniforms. They spoke of the Black Cloak's equipment like war spoils. Outlaw vs. Rogue DID say they worked like privateers . . .

  Plas stood up. “Well, I gotta go read 'em their rights. You two should be all right here.”

  “Ahh . . . Chief Bladi?” Eric asked.

  Plas chuckled. “You don't work for me so you don't have to call me 'chief.'”

  “Oh . . . uh . . .with all due respect, you guys look like bandits.”

  Plas chuckled again. “Yeah, we get that a lot. If you doubt me, here's my badge.”

  Pulling off the gauntlet on his left hand, he showed Eric the back of his palm; aside from scars, it was bare. He clenched and a tattoo appeared: a silver dragon spreading its wings in full flight. “Our organization is two thousand years old and involves much of Tariatla.” Plas replaced his gauntlet. “To explain why we do things the way we do I'd have to make this a classroom.”

  You were alive back then, right?

  Yes. Do not ask for anecdotes.

  You have time! Eric felt a wave of shock from Dengel. Are you meeting someone? Perhaps a ghost living in someone else's head?

  I do not find it prudent to talk about such things in a potentially dangerous area. The 'police force' might have missed someone.

  “Duty calls.” Plas bowed his head to Kasile and waved to Eric. The doorway flashed red as he left. Kasile cleared her throat and locked eyes with Eric.

  “Eric, I want to thank you.”

  “Sure, you're welcome . . . but I didn't really do anything . . .”

  Kasile shook her head. “It was because of you I escaped; you taught me battle magic.”

  “But how did mana bolts help? You were tied up.” Kasile smiled a sly smile. There was something quite scary about it.

  “Who said I used mana bolts?”

  She stood up and walked to the former warden's desk. It was very old, but since the steel walls kept out moisture and insects, it was still in good condition. The princess ran her pale and delicate fingers over its surface and created five lines cleared of dust. Suddenly she grew five claws of blue light and slashed. Nothing happened. Then she nudged the center and it fell in six pieces.

  Eric's mouth hung open. “I didn't teach you that!”

  “I had a lot of free time.” Kasile wiggled her ethereal claws. “So I experimented.”

  Puzzle solved: Kasile went to their Mental Meeting Room and used the basics Eric taught her to further teach herself. She built on that to cut her bindings. From there she waited for a Black Cloak to drop by with her meal and pounced like a tiger.

  Suddenly, Kasile was only a foot away. Then she hugged him.

  Now Eric considered Kasile his friend and it is natural for friends to hug. However, that didn't change the fact that Kasile was a girl and holding him closely. Her chest was pressed against his own. Her hair landed across his face; soft despite her captivity. He put his arms around her in return. Forget the loot! This made the trip worth it! Then Culmus walked in.

  With a cry of delight, Kasile released Eric and glomped on the swordsman. He clutched her to his chest and repeatedly asked if she was all right. She said “yes” over and over again. Then their lips were crushed together. Eric blushed and turned around; he shouldn't watch. He would have left the room entirely, but they were making out in the front of the door. When the rustle of cloth and passionate gasps stopped, Eric judged it safe to look.

  “So . . . I guess we should go back now. . .”

  Plas had forty warriors with him, mostly humans with other species mixed in. The mages stood at the perimeter of the group and held illuminated staves, the fighters stood in the center to keep an eye on the criminals, and the healers tended to the victims.

  All the men charged with Kasile's kidnapping were herded to the center and those on the outer ring had a dagger at their necks. At first, Eric thought this was excessive, but then he noticed how many were bandaged and remembered how many died.

  They kidnapped the Crown Princess; the sole heir. If something happened to her it would send ripples to every corner of the nation, and if Tariatla was as globalized as Threa, the rest of the world. They kidnapped others as well; civilians and another noble. They were scarred in unusual places and others had mutations. Add the civilian causalities and collateral damage they caused at the Joust and they were looking at a life sentence if they were lucky.

  Plas led the group and Kasile allowed him to do so because she had to mediate her would-be rescuers. The mercenary Culmus and the noble Siron were on the verge of fighting each other. The only thing stopping them were the kind words of their princess and the fact that she pushed them apart.

  “Don't fight!” she demanded. “You're both special to me.”

  “He's a charity!

  “He's a robot!”

  Siron Esrah's armor was dented and torn; he himself was covered in cuts and bruises, but Eric could still tell he was nobility. It was the way he carried himself and walked with confidence on the slimy stones. His opinion of them matched his opinion of the boy across from him.

  Siron spat at his feet. “Go back to your lair!”

  Culmus threw slime at his face. “Go back to your forge!”

  “Please.” Kasile brought them side by side and held both their gazes. “Don't fight.”

  They shuffled awkwardly.

  Siron bowed his head. “Forgive my anger, Your Highness.”

  Culmus did the same a moment later. “I'm sorry, too.”

  “Shake hands.”

  They did, and to her delight, they didn't try to crush the other's hand in a blatant display of macho. She was so happy she linked arms with them both and hummed a tune. They glared at each other behind her back.

  One of the police sidled over to them. “Hey, aren't you the dude Kasile favored at the Joust?”

  Siron's fist clenched before he replied. “I will thank you to refer to Her Highness by her title and myself by mine: Lord Siron, second duke of Esrah.”

  “What was that, the third time?”

  Siron glanced sidelong at Culmus. “Fourth.”

  “In Najica . . .” Culmus said, “The character representing 'Four' resembles the one for 'Death'.”

  Siron drew his sword and struck. As fast as lightning, Culmus couldn't dodge it. The blade slid past him and sliced an emil emerging from the muck. With a spirit flare, he shattered the stone and it dissolved back into sewer water. A faint smile graced his face.

  “Speak of Death and he appears.”

  More monsters arrived and the police routed them. It took them longer to plunder the bodies. Eric didn't bother because his pack was full. If they noticed his loot, they might confiscate it. He needed it to line his own pockets with gold and his only obstacle was time. While waiting at a ladder he asked, “What was that place? It looked like a torture chamber.”

  “It was indeed.” Kasile said in cold fury. “The Darwoss used it in ages past.”

  This was the answer he expected, but it was nice to be proven right. Silver-haired Norej and his father had sticks shoved so far up their butts he suspected they enjoyed shoving sharp objects into other people. No doubt, their more powerful ancestors were worse.

  “How long is 'ages past'?” Eric asked.

  Siron, covered in fresh muck from assisting the outlaws, sheathed his sword. “It was officially abandoned five hundred years ago, but there are accounts of its use in later years. There are people who insist that it is in use today by organizations other than the Black Cloaks.” He spoke in a crisp, collected voice; someone who looked before he leaped. Why did he attempt a rescue on his own?

  Plas spotted a manhole and the large party began their final ascent. First, ten outlaws climbed the ladder and formed a circle. Next, the victims climbed up. Once they all reached the surface safely, the criminals were levitated and followed by the remaining police.

  Siron gestured to the ladder. “After you, brave mercenary.”

  Culmus returned the gesture. “No, after you. You must
be tired from your ordeal.”

  “It is the duty of nobles to look after the rest.”

  “My guild would look bad if I abandoned a victim.”

  Kasile walked between them. “Ladies first.” She grabbed a rung. “I'm counting on both of you to catch me if I fall.” She feigned weakness and they rushed to her support. She smiled and Eric could almost see hearts fluttering over the boys. “Thank you. I've had so little to eat lately.”

  Simultaneously, they stood straight and placed their sword hand over their heart.

  “Your Highness is safe with—” They spared a sidelong glance at the other. “Me.”

  The princess' serene smile didn't falter, but her thoughts were sad. Eric, keep our link a secret.

  Uh . . . sure . . . How come?

  Kasile began her ascent. Don't you think it would be fun to have a private line of communication that no one else knew about?

  Eric looked at the boys. They had one eye on her and one eye on each other. Yes.

  By the time they were all back on the surface, the sun had gone to sleep and so had most of the people. Plas was glad he didn't have to spare officers for crowd control. If Kasile was mobbed by her adoring public while they had rogues to deliver one of them might try something.

  Here the police split in two: half took the criminals to Ataidar's Justice Station and half escorted Kasile to the palace gates. By her “request,” Eric and Culmus were allowed to join them.

  “Plas, you know how I found Kasile, but how did you do it?”

  Plas rustled his head. “With your help. She was a tough nut to crack, but that Dark Staff you caught eventually agreed to cooperate. We gave her a lighter sentence in exchange for info.”

  “You know I did that?”

  Plas laughed. “Do I ever . . . During our drinking match with Death, he wouldn't shut up about it.”

  The novice beamed.

  “What about you, Lord Siron? How'd you find her?”

  The young noble looked ahead to the castle. “I was endurance training in the sewers and saw figures running by in black cloaks. I determined it worth investigating. Would you mind answering your own question, Mercenary Watley?”