by JD Franx
Kalmar ignored the rude remark and chuckled instead. “And what kind of wizard do you think you are, son? There are only so many different kinds. You don’t have the power of an elemental sorcerer. I can see that for myself and you don’t carry the decay of a necromancer. That don’t leave much else, my boy. The Fae are gone and your eyes and hair tell me that you’re not DragonKin either. I’ve met many of the Dragon’s half-bred offspring. They are not something you forget. I can see your bond with the earth, Kael. The power of it dances in your eyes. You’re a bonded wizard, and not a particularly powerful one yet, though someday...”
Kael snorted, looking at N’Ikyah and Galen to see if they would help, but both turned away not knowing what to say.
“Thanks, you two. I guess I’ll show him.”
The t-shirt that Kael had been wearing the day he arrived had been reduced to rags long ago—replaced by slave rags in the prison, but while he was unconscious he seemed to have acquired a heavy leather, fur-lined cloak that was more than a little too big for him. As he looked at the wizard the others must have freed as they escaped, Kael removed the cloak from his body so that Kalmar could see the black flower over his heart as well as the branching vines and their barbed thorns that trailed out across his body.
“Holy Mistress Inara, what in the nine planes of Perdition are those?” Kalmar shouted, as he bent over Kael for a closer look. He whistled long and loud. “That is incredible ink work, young man, frightening in its detail. I have never seen anything quite like it.” Kalmar pressed his hand to Kael’s flesh, running his index finger along one of the heavy vines. “I almost expect to feel the vine under your skin. Only the best warriors from the Southern Kingdom of Salzara have ink comparable to that, and it’s nowhere near as detailed. It must have hurt like nothing else in this world, no?” he rambled.
Kael was surprised at his reaction. “You don’t know what these are?” Kael asked, as he traced a finger over the delicate details of the vines that grew from the flowers stalk, deep under his flesh.
“Ah, no. The flower resembles a death-flower... Should I, young man?” Again Kael looked to Galen and N’Ikyah.
“You sure you two wouldn’t like to help me here?” As both shook their heads and glanced away, Kael figured he might as well tell Kalmar the truth. “Well, Master Wizard, my name is Kael. So you can stop calling me ‘young one’ or ‘my boy’. I’m also not a normal bonded wizard. Everyone here keeps telling me that your term for me is a Kai’Sar. A DeathWizard.”
Kalmar burst out laughing. “That’s funny, Kael. The fact that the rest of us are still alive as we sit with you here is pretty much proof that you are indeed no such thing. The term Kai’Sar is used by pompous wizards pretending to be intelligent as they try to impress other wizards or nobles with even less intelligence, usually those who have acquired Council seats. DeathWizard is the proper term, but you shouldn’t be saying things like that though, my young friend... Sorry, Kael,” he apologized, catching the look Kael gave him, before carrying on. “You could get yourself kill—”
His words cut off in mid-sentence as calm black and purple lightning formed on Kael’s right arm, jumping and crackling down into in his palm where it formed into a ball of snapping dark power, completely under Kael’s conscious control.
Smirking at the grizzled, old wizard, Kael said, “From what I’ve been told, Master Wizard, only a DeathWizard can produce black lightning. Is this proof enough for you?” Kael forced the magic to retreat as Kalmar hopped up and stumbled over the travel packs behind him and fell to the ground. Considering he looked well past the age of a hundred, he hoped the old man hadn’t hurt himself.
“Th… That… That’s impossible. It’s… That’s underworld magic, isn’t it? Dear gods help us all, you were right,” he stumbled, surprised.
In no mood for arrogant stupidity, Kael scoffed. “No offence, old man, but I’m pretty sure your gods aren’t listening any more than my one God is. If you haven’t figured out by now that the only help coming is what we give each other, then they should have left you to rot in that goddamn cell,” Kael said, as he got up and walked away from the main camp.
Galen took the opportunity to speak up. “You can calm down, Kalmar. You would be dead already if that was his intent. Believe me, none of us could stop him. He helped us escape, and even gave me back my bond to the earth. I don’t think you’re in any danger. In fact, I would bet your life that there’s no danger,” he said, chuckling at the poor attempt to lighten the mood. Kalmar, however, wasn’t so easily convinced.
“How is it possible?” he asked, following after Kael, though he hadn’t gone that far. “That you can control your anger? Or the fact that you should be insane? Every piece of written history we have describes unstable magic, corruption, insanity, and even bloodlust. Why are you different?”
Kael shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I have no answers. Until five months ago, I wasn’t even on this plane of existence, for crying out loud! Those goddamned Dead Sisters brought me here and destroyed everything I held dear in the process. As for the insanity and anger part? I can promise you my mind is no where near as stable as it used to be. But I have no intention of harming anyone, especially enemies of the monsters who held us. You have nothing to fear from me.”
Galen again came to Kael’s defence. “If you had been in our cell, Kalmar, you would understand. You’d never believe what he went through. Those witches did things to him that made me vomit almost everyday, and in order to stop it? All he would’ve had to do was kill someone in our cell. A hundred and fourteen days he refused. Can you even imagine such a thing? Think about it that for a minute. On the ninety-eighth day they killed a very dear friend of his and her grandfather, all within an hour. No one else could have withstood that, I know I couldn’t have. No one could…” his voice broke, as he trailed off.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Kael said. “We all left that place with scars and nightmares. Let’s just make sure we don’t have to go back.” Kalmar surprised everyone as he went up to Kael and offered to grasp his arm. Accepting Kalmar’s apology, he grasped the old wizard’s arm and shook it.
“Please forgive my initial shock, son… Kael,” he corrected. “You’re not what we’ve envisioned your kind to be, and for that I am sorry. Thank you for allowing us to join in your escape. We all would’ve died up there. Sooner rather than later, I am positive. I’m also sorry for what you yourself suffered but you are free now. Remain true to yourself and the months you resisted will be worth it some day.”
Kael snorted. “Worth it? Nothing will make what happened up there, worth it. Thank you for the kind words.” Kael turned his back to the others. Ultimately the darkness within him remained and it would only be a matter of time before it began to grow again. He could feel it. Unlike anything he’d ever known in his life, it terrified him beyond words.
Though N’Ikyah said very little since he woke, Kael could tell something was on her mind. He waved her over and walked to the tunnel’s entrance, well away from the others.
“You look like something is bothering you,” he said as she approached.
She nodded, smiling. “You used very powerful magic during our escape. I have not seen anything close to what you did. Would you like to tell me how you did it? Was it instinct or do you know how your magic works now?”
“I have no idea what I did up there, N’Ikyah. I barely remember what happened. I recall flashes of anger, even pleasure. After Arabella died, it’s worse. Most of it’s just a blur,” he said, unable to give her an answer.
“Do you feel any different now? Do you have more control? I saw how you showed Kalmar what you are.”
Rolling his stiff shoulders, he shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I can tell the difference between the two powers now, but I have no idea how to use the one you call the earth-bond. I think I used it to fix Galen’s own connection to the earth. Underworld magic wouldn’t work. It seems to react with my strength of will, maybe even my emotions,
I honestly don’t know. It’s easy to form lightning on my hand or even ice…” As he spoke, black lightning rolled over his hand and quickly turned to dark purple ice, black frost fell from his fingers.
A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he continued. “But it wouldn’t repair his cruus and more complex magic seems to be a lot harder. I have to focus more, yet when I use the words of magic Lycori taught me, it makes it almost effortless. I’m trying, but I don’t understand what any of you mean when you speak of magic and how you use it.”
“It will be all right, Kael,” she said, as she touched his hand, forcing him to recall the small bit of magic. “Try not to forget that most wizards study for hundreds of years with formal teaching before they acquire the ability do to powerful spells. Even simple spells require decades of study and practise. I am sorry this has all happened to you. I know you are trying. I promise you, I will keep helping. We will eventually find a way for you to control more and more. We have two wizards with us now; perhaps they may help. Have patience. Fair enough?”
As she finished speaking, she stepped closer and gave him a hug. Her touch brought back supportive memories of his wife, Ember, now long gone, and Lycori who was also gone. The black feeling of hatred inside him seemed to grow a little more as Kael’s thoughts turned to finding more of Arabella’s witches or even Sythrnax and his warriors with whom he could vent his anger on. He swallowed and tried to bury his feelings, but they were becoming like an ever-increasing and always present hunger.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wizards have been cleaning up after the gods for as long as we have existed. Even now, there are still creatures and monsters left over from the days when the gods walked our realm. We thought the gods no longer cared, or couldn’t be bothered to look towards the realm they created. But I was wrong. For some reason they have turned their attention to Talohna once more. I suspected so, twenty years ago when I experienced a vision of Jasala Vyshaan’s final hours. Lady Cortina, the goddess of prophets, clearly has a vested interest in the events that involve my son, Kael. Attracting the attention of the gods is normally a very bad thing, but for my son to attract their attention would be devastating to us all.
EXCERPT FROM ARCHWIZARD
GIDDEON ZIRAKUS’ JOURNAL.
END-WINTER, 5025 PC.
CORTINA MONASTERY
CORYNTH, CETHOS
Zaddyk Larren had spent the last twenty years living at the Cortina Monastery. The goddess Cortina, often called the Oracle, granted all prophecies and visions to the races of Talohna. Zaddyk had worshipped her since he arrived at the monastery and began studying under Brother Donis to be one of Cortina’s chosen priests. The ArchWizard Giddeon Zirakus made sure Zaddyk had been given a good life at the monastery after his parents died when he was six. Giddeon had realized Zaddyk wasn’t gifted with normal magic, so he had the young boy brought to the monastery to study under his friend, Brother Donis Kincaid. Zaddyk spent the last twenty years in a safe and happy environment. Now, he’d be elevated to priesthood in only two weeks.
The priests and priestesses of Cortina were scholars who spent their entire lives devoted to studying ancient prophecies so that they may be of some use when an era of prophecy, a period in time when a prophecy was confirmed, occurred. Talohna had been in such an era for over twenty years, starting before Giddeon’s son had been born during the dreaded Black Sun. Prophecy was not a big factor in the Blood Kingdoms or the Southern Kingdoms, but it was used when it was thought to be helpful. The birth of a prophesied DeathWizard was one such time.
Zaddyk overheard earlier in the morning that Giddeon and his group had returned to Corynth the day before. Well aware that the ArchWizard was busy hunting the DeathWizard, he wanted to offer his help and his prayers, especially for the young red-haired woman who’d been hurt. Having been like a father to him as the years passed by, Zaddyk always wanted the ArchWizard to know how thankful he was.
The only way for an initiate to leave the monastery was to get Brother Donis’ permission. With his chores done and owed some free time, Zaddyk planned to cut through the chapel. It would be faster than going around the entire complex, even taking into consideration the short prayer he’d have to offer his goddess as he passed by her altar. Opening the side door, he hurried and bowed at the altar before he knelt at the foot of Cortina’s statue. Lighting a candle to say a quick prayer for Giddeon and his group, Zaddyk closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“My Lady Cortina, please watch over Giddeon and his group as they try to use your words to end evil… And please, my lady, find me worthy of your blessing when I kneel before you in two weeks to take your vow.”
Zaddyk blew out the tallow candle and tried to stand, but found he couldn’t rise from the chapel’s cold, stone floor. A deep rumble echoed far away, just strong enough to tickle his ears. It quickly gained speed with a pace that made him glance over his shoulder in fear. A thunderous crack of god-blessed power blew through the chapel, forcing him to cower as it blasted the entrance doors completely off their iron hinges. A tender, female voice emanated with raw energy as it reverberated through the ancient wooden chapel.
“My precious, precious, boy. You need not wait two weeks, my dearest. I give you my blessing now, young priest. Though many in the past have considered such a curse. Be aware, my child, events have begun to spiral away from those entrusted with the power to guard your realm. You must make this right. It is long past time for a true prophet to be born in Talohna. Tell the ArchWizard of his wrongs; my visits to him twenty years past were both wasted. You must make him see. Now, my child, I grant you the power of a goddess.”
A lone tear ran from each corner of Zaddyk’s opening eyes as he looked upon the breath-taking beauty of the goddess he loved with all his soul.
The warm, velvet voice of the Oracle, Cortina, caressed Zaddyk’s mind and his eyes filled with the solid black, liquid magic of a prophet’s true power. The raw force of her touch launched his mind into the future, a place where chosen men and women walked hand in hand with the gods. Images of horrific events to come unfolded before the young man’s darkened eyes. Hours seemed to pass before the flashes of the future finally came to an abrupt end, and Zaddyk fell to the floor with a gasp, trembling and exhausted. Priests and students ran to help him, not understanding their goddess had just walked in her own chapel with the sole purpose of giving birth to the first true prophet in over four hundred years.
It had been decided at last. If Human and Elvehn-kind couldn’t save themselves, the gods were going to help. At least some of them anyway.
Giddeon and Saleece were at the mansion watching over Ember as she recovered from using too much magic. Brother Donis’ young messenger found them only an hour after Zaddyk had been visited by the goddess Cortina.
“Master Giddeon,” the messenger began, after Saleece opened the door and showed him inside. “I have a missive for you, from his Holiness, Brother Donis. It is very urgent.”
“Thank you, boy,” Giddeon replied, as he handed the child a couple coppers. “You can go, there will be no message to return.” He opened the letter as the boy left the room.
“Saleece, read this to everyone, if you please.” She nodded as he handed the letter to her. It read:
Giddeon,
You need to come with haste to my lady’s temple. Zaddyk has been visited by the Lady Cortina. He has been touched with the prophet’s power. We need your help, old friend. The poor boy suffers and only the Inari can help him. Please hurry. Giddeon. He won’t survive long without Confirmation.
Brother Donis Kincaid
“Gods, Father. What’s happening?” Saleece asked, shaking.
“I don’t know. The gods seem to be very active as of late. It’s been a long time since they have meddled in the affairs of man. I doubt it’s a good omen. Now come. We’ll see if we can help Zaddyk. The spell is in Salminius’ grimoire. He was the last of the Inari to confirm a prophet. Make sure you bring one of the amulets, as well. Hurry, an
d I’ll meet you there,” he commanded, already on his way out the door.
“Go, Saleece,” insisted Kasik. “We’ll stay. We have no help to offer a prophet. I’ll be here when you return. We’ve made too many enemies for Ember to remain here alone.”
Yrlissa nodded in agreement from beside Ember’s bed and mouthed, “Go.” Saleece turned and ran for her father’s tower located on the castle grounds up the street.
CORYNTH, CETHOS
Giddeon Zirakus was a man and wizard who knew little fear. He had stood on battlefields facing thousands of screaming Wildland savages with a taste for human blood, had fought pirates, Dead Sisters, and had personally ended the life of the last practising necromancer in the Blood Kingdoms in a terrifying battle of elementals and undead. All through such battles he had experienced little fear. A DeathWizard frightened him greatly, but the gods terrified him even more.
As Giddeon walked in the cool night air he couldn’t help but ponder all the abnormal events of the recent months. To find stories of the last time the gods had played in the realm of man, one had to look to the ancient myths of creation and the legendary stories about the monsters and heroes that followed. For some reason it seemed the gods had a serious interest in the events unfolding during this particular era of prophecy and he was sure that Kael was the cause. Recorded history stated that prophets were born with their gifts and though Zaddyk had been touched by Cortina at birth, he was a seer, but no prophet. If she powered his rebirth as a true prophet as Brother Donis believed, then the gods had a definite interest in the outcome of mortal affairs.
Giddeon couldn’t think of any way this was a good thing or how it would end well. The laws of magic dictated that if the gods used their magic in the realm of man then someone would pay a heavy price to maintain the balance. He knew it would end up being the citizens of Talohna; the pantheon sure wouldn’t pay it, even if they could.
