Theft, Murder, and Crystals

by Benjamin Duke

  Before he could plunge into study, a knock came at the door.

  “Go away,” Cimir shouted. “When my door is shut, that means I am working.”

  “Yes, but uh, there’s someone here,” Elias said. “And I don’t know who it is.”

  “So? Let Groth handle it,” Cimir replied. Elias was really starting to grate on him.

  “She says she’s here to see you,” Elias replied. “And it’s urgent.”

  She? Cimir turned and looked at the door. What were the chances of this being the woman in his vision? Fairly high, he realized. Her intention of finding him must have been what triggered such a clear picture.

  “Fine, I’ll be right out,” Cimir said. He threw on his coat and grabbed a few crystals. Two for lightning, one for immolation and one to slowly break bones. If this was a repeat of the Falcon visit, this mystery woman would receive a terrible reception, regardless of how many visions Cimir had.

  He walked through the door and made his way to the living room, where Groth and a tall, red-haired woman stood.

  “Grghhhhh” Groth uttered at her, his voice in a strange, rumbling tone.

  “Ughhhraa,” she replied. Her voice was raspy and hoarse, a deeply repulsive thing to hear. Elias was standing on the other side of the room, peeking out of the doorway to the kitchen. He seemed worried, but curious.

  “You speak his language?” Cimir asked as he approached her. He smiled and nodded curtly at her. Smiling wasn’t natural to him, and he wondered if perhaps he should have simply stayed with a neutral face.

  “Of course,” she replied with a laugh. “The Sun gives all of his children the voice of the many.”

  A sun worshipper! Of course, that explained why her soul would be strong enough for magic. “You’re looking for me,” Cimir said as he extended a hand to her. “I sensed it.”

  The woman smiled and shook his hand eagerly. “I could feel eyes burning upon me as I walked.”

  “This woman is a Stonefriend,” Groth said as he walked away from the group. “I cannot lay a hand on her, you are on your own.”

  Cimir nodded. Groth was a strange creature, but Cimir enjoyed the fact that he was well educated. They had spoken at a great length of philosophy and magic. It was rare to meet someone who could match Cimir’s knowledge and wit. If his friend respected this woman, he would keep that in mind.

  “Please, have a seat,” Cimir said, gesturing to the red couches. Samuel had picked them out, rambling about something called burgundy. Maybe it was a color? Cimir didn’t know, but they were expensive.

  The woman smiled and sat across from Cimir, glancing over at Elias, who was still watching from a distance. “Will you be joining us?”

  “No,” Cimir said, waving dismissively at Elias. “Leave us.”

  Elias frowned and went to speak, but apparently decided against it. He merely bowed at them and disappeared fully into the kitchen, to eavesdrop no doubt.

  “I suppose introductions are in order? Or have you seen my name too?” she asked.

  Cimir smiled. “I am no seer, far from it. My name is Cimir.”

  “I am Erice,” she said. She crossed her legs and leaned back, reclining against the cushion of the couch. “I used to be a member of an elite organization known as the Sunbiters. They were quite well loved within this city. Until your magic brought about their downfall.”

  “An oversight,” Cimir said, trying his best to keep his composure. His heart began to race a little and his hand slowly inched towards his coat pocket. This had better not be another attempt at revenge.

  “Relax,” Erice replied, holding her hands up. “I come unarmed, and without anger. A swordsmith isn’t to be blamed when his weapon is used to stab the king, it’s the man holding the weapon who is due. And those men are all dead.”

  Cimir relaxed. “So why are you here?”

  “I am looking for work,” Erice said. “And the Sun told me that this would be my next step.”

  “I am unfamiliar with your faith, so I apologize,” Cimir said. “But I did not believe you actually spoke to the Sun.”

  “It’s an expression. We call it Illumination. Intense meditation and prayer at the highest point in noon. An idea comes forward and we give credit to the Sun, for without his guidance, we would all be lost,” Erice replied. “I am lost within this city.”

  “Tell me about it,” Cimir absentmindedly said. He was distracted by her radiance. The energy pulsing off of her was almost palpable. Whatever she believed about the Sun, it was clear she was blessed in some way.

  “You seem distracted,” Erice said. She shifted a little under his gaze.

  “Magic. Have you used it before? Or been exposed to it?” Cimir asked. He paid no mind to the discomfort she was showing.

  “Rituals a plenty,” Erice replied. “One practice we would do before a great fight was to walk through the flames of our Pyromancer. Such a feat would temper us for battle.”

  “But not everyone did it,” Cimir said.

  “Few had faith to walk in fire as I did,” Erice admitted. “How did you know?”

  “That’s why your soul is so strong. Belief, faith. Magic. All of those things are closely tied together,” Cimir mumbled.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erice said with a laugh. “You seem rather odd, if I am to be honest.”

  “I don’t care about such a label,” Cimir replied. “No. I’ll tell you this much. I see power in you. You were drawn here by magic, no doubt.”

  “Magic is beyond me, I’m afraid,” Erice said. “I studied it somewhat, but too many words. Too many equations.”

  Cimir grinned at that. “The method that I will teach you doesn’t require much reading.”

  Erice frowned at that. “And you make that offer so quickly? A five minute conversation with a complete stranger is enough to warrant your trust?”

  “Oh no, the grueling training will earn that,” Cimir said with a laugh. He stood to his feet. “I’m not interested in long conversations or drawing things out longer than they need to be. I see immense potential within you. I happen to need an apprentice for some experimentation. Either say yes, or kindly leave. There are many other people in this city who could learn magic from me.”

  Erice stood as well. “I don’t think I’ll be any good at it.”

  “You won’t be, not for a while,” Cimir said. “But you’ll improve. You’ll be able to achieve things you’ve never thought possible.”

  “But there’s a price to be paid, of course,” Erice said. “And what is that price?”

  “Employment. I teach you magic, give you power to wield and you pay me back by creating more of these,” Cimir said as he held a crystal up high. “We’ve got quite a demand for them.”

  Erice’s eyes darted to the crystal. “What does that one do?”

  Cimir grinned. “It lights people on fire. All I need to do is will it to happen.”

  Erice looked unsure, somewhat startled at the news of the power of the crystal. It was clear she understood enough about magic to fear it.

  “Just like that? You’ll take me in? No background checks, asking around?” Erice asked.

  “Talk yourself out of this, or come in the lab and begin training,” Cimir replied. He turned his back to her and began to walk back to his study. “I don’t care one way or the other. Apprentices are a dime a dozen. But masters are hard to come by.”

  As he walked, he heard another pair of footsteps, moving towards him. He smiled a little, knowing that he had found his first real apprentice. This was an historic moment in his life, the moment that every sorcerer longed for. Cimir hoped that she would survive the transfer. After all, she seemed rather pleasant.

  Chapter 19:

  “Gentlemen,” First Lord Prax bellowed as he entered the Magistrate’s Courtroom. They called it a courtroom, but it was more like an arena, with three levels of seating looming high above the center. In the middle of the room was the podium, where the Honored Speaker would stand
and make his case. The men and women of the court would listen and then pronounce a judgement. Votes would be taken, and laws would be settled.

  On the bottom row were countless aids and scribes, listening to the words of their respective leaders, scribbling down words on paper and scurrying back and forth to pass communication from one Magister to the other. It was chaos. Lord Prax didn’t quite understand the legal system of Glimmer. Back in the Kalimshar Lands, there was one simple rule. Listen to Kalimar. He made all decrees, all orders, all rules. And his rules were few. Those who obeyed were allowed to live in harmony, and those who defied were dismembered quickly.

  This chaos they called legislation and democracy was worse than witchcraft, as far as Prax was concerned. Too many rules, too many people talking and too many meaningless opinions. It was a wonder that the Glimmer people accepted such leaders. Still, Prax wasn’t here to pass judgement or bring social reform. No, as First Lord, he was assigned with ensuring that the will of Kalimar was kept by the rulers. While other, lesser Lords were to rule over monarchies and tribes, Glimmer was the crown assignment. A beautiful city full of good food, warm beds and large walls to keep invaders out.

  Prax had worked long and hard to achieve his position. Now, he was enjoying the fruits. With Kalimshar nearly 2,000 miles away, it was Prax who was the sole leader of Kalimites in the city. They were all grateful to be in a civilized land. Yet, while Glimmer was a temptress, Prax would not give in to complacency.

  “And women of the Court,” Prax bellowed as he stood in the center of the room. All eyes were upon him. The Magisters were often timid and sheepish around him, refusing to look at him directly. Messengers and servants interacted with him more than any one Magister. At first, he believed it was an insult, until he realized that they were afraid. That was a healthy position to have when dealing with a man who could single-handedly call for the hundreds of thousands of warriors from a far off land. All he had to do was give the command and Glimmer would fall.

  “There are two rules that we have given you,” Prax continued. “Two rules.” He produced a small burlap pouch from his side and held it up. “The first was that of tribute. Every year, the amount of a million pieces of gold, two chests of rubies and three crates of wheat are to be sent to His Highness, the Holy Glory, The Unstoppable Man, Kalimar. And I have seen with my own eyes, the boxes upon boxes being loaded up in preparation for your first year. Does anyone remember the second rule?”

  There was silence amongst the crowd. He could see the fear in the eyes of these complacent men and women, they sat so high above him, yet he felt bigger than any single one.

  “No?” he asked. “The second rule was that all magic, all practices, all uses, all types forms and otherwise manifestations of powers beyond that of man’s natural abilities are to be outlawed. And how have you, Glimmer’s glorious leadership handled such a task?”

  He turned the sack upside down, allowing dozens of crystals to spill out from the bag. They scattered across the ground, rolling in every direction. “You have allowed these to somehow slip past your eyes!”

  “What is that?” Magister Franil asked. He was an elderly man, the only Magister seated at the bottom row, close enough so that Prax could address him directly.

  “These are loopholes in our method of preventing magic,” Prax said as he bent down to pick up a crystal and show it towards Franil. “Someone, somehow, figured out a means of circumventing the Illari crystal.”

  There was a hushed murmur across the room. One woman, a gangly woman with a strange beehive hairstyle, the most obnoxious one Prax had ever seen stood to her feet. “This is why you waste the Court’s time? Lord Prax, need I remind you that we pass the law that made it illegal to wield magic. We have funded your department adequately. If you wish to handle this problem yourself, then do so.”

  Prax gritted his teeth. “You do not understand. Magic is forbidden. It is not simply a matter of restriction or control. No forms of magic are permitted. This crystal here is an excuse for the Kalimar Hordes to come rushing down on you.”

  “There it is again,” Franil grumbled. “Another threat. Listen, if you seek to invade us, go ahead. We bent our knees, we are paying our taxes and we passed the laws. You can’t just stop Glimmerites from doing what they want to do. If they want something bad enough, they’ll do it.”

  “I expect full cooperation in this matter!” Prax shouted. This was frustrating. Despite their obvious fear of him, the Magister’s didn’t seem to understand the importance of this law. Perhaps a demonstration was in order. He glanced at the entrance where Vice Lord Kern was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and she tapped her foot impatiently. Prax nodded at her.

  “We have!” someone in the crowd shouted. “We have done everything required of us.”

  “I want more than the bare minimum,” Prax cried. Kern emerged from the hallway, pulling a man who was bound and gagged across the ground. She grunted as she pulled the load, the man wriggling and fighting to free himself.

  “This man here,” Prax said, pointing to the bound individual. He could see the terror in the young man’s eyes and he felt a pang of guilt. This was a terribly unfortunate situation for a beggar to be in. “He has violated our sacred laws by wielding these crystals. We caught him this morning.”

  Prax reached down and pulled the axe from his side free. He raised it high in the air. “The penalty for magic possession is death.”

  “Now wait here!” Magister Imuel shouted as he hopped out of his seat. He was younger and wryer than some of the other councilmen. “If this man has committed a crime, than he is to be brought into our court system, given words to defend himself and a judge to weigh the words without bias. You cannot simply accuse a man and then kill him on the floor of our courts.”

  “When a man violates your laws, he faces the courts,” Prax explained as he held the axe high. The man on the ground writhed, trying to speak but the gag around his mouth was too tight. “But when our laws are broken, when the Law of Kalimar the Living God is broken, it will be handled through our methods.” And with that, Prax brought the axe down swiftly, hacking into the side of the man’s head. The man’s eyes rolled back as he died almost immediately from the blow.

  The entire crowd gasped. A few members of the council fainted. Prax drew the weapon upwards and methodically began to hack the man in pieces, swinging with precision and speed. Like that of a butcher, his work was swift and elegant. Everyone watched in wordless horror as Prax finished slicing the corpse into pieces.

  He looked up to face them. “Now, this is how we do justice. You most likely believe that your way is better. I would suggest that you then do everything in your power to ensure that your citizens are not so brutally executed on such charges. If my men walk the streets looking for these crystals and those who use them, it will not be an investigation. It will be a massacre. Is that understood?”

  No one replied. Some were scowling, a few were weeping, but they all understood his message clearly.

  “I…I make a motion that we open a discussion on methods of cracking down on magic further,” Franil hoarsely whispered. An aid standing by his feet echoed the words loudly for all to hear. The motion was seconded. Talk began amongst the Magisters as to how they would handle the problem of these crystals.

  Prax, having finished his job, walked off. Details and particulars did not concern him. These people were capable enough. His only job was to put the fear into their hearts, the fear of what the presence of magic would do to their beloved city. His only regret was that he was unable to find a prisoner for his demonstration. The homeless man had done no wrongs, he had simply been nearby. His only crime was being alone and unwanted by all. No one would miss his disappearance. Prax would honor the man’s sacrifice by ensuring that Glimmer would be safe from Kalimar’s Hordes. One death was nothing compared to what would happen should magic grow within the city.

  “That was an excellent display,” Kern said as she walked beside him. “But I take
umbrage at the axing of the corpse. You spread the idea that Kalimites are savages and brutes.”

  “It’s an idea worth spreading,” Prax growled. “Any word from Markov of the Watch?”

  “Unfortunately, Captain Markov – “

  “You forget yourself,” Prax said as he stopped to face Kern. He scowled at her. “We do not address them by their titles. They do not get that consideration from us.”

  “Yes, First Lord,” Kern said as she clasped a fist against her chest. “I apologize.”

  “You are forgiven, Kern,” Prax replied. He continued walking down the hallway. The halls of the Magistrate Building seemed endless and was difficult to navigate. He wished to return to his room, to rest, but many things still needed to be handled. “You were saying?”