Magemother: The Complete Series (A Fantasy Adventure Book Series for Kids of All Ages)

by Austin J. Bailey

  “No Mage of Light and Darkness to manipulate,” said Belterras.

  “No army to raise,” said Lignumis.

  “No way out,” Brinley finished.

  Then, with his face pressed half into the grass and the power of five mages threatening to destroy him, Shael smiled. He gave Brinley a knowing glance, because he knew she would have just sensed the same thing that he had: that there was a way out for him after all. Out on the battlefield, Hugo had slipped again. There was something different in the balance of light and darkness that could mean only one thing: Hugo was gone.

  Molad was in power.

  ***

  After Hugo landed on the bank, Cannon had jostled him until he began to move.

  “What happened?” Hugo said, coming to as Cannon pulled him to his feet.

  “You got manhandled by a sorcerer. Come on, the fighting’s started.”

  Hugo felt a rush of energy at the words and brushed Cannon’s hands away. Together, they joined the fray at a run.

  “A sword for the Prince of Aberdeen!” Cannon screamed over the din as archers and pikemen swarmed around them. A second later, a sword flashed into Hugo’s hand, surrendered by a passing footman with a quick bow.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” Hugo said in disgust, but even as he did he knew that for the moment it was his best option. Molad had taken his powers hostage. He thought about wrestling with his darker half, but this seemed like a bad time to accidentally set Molad loose if he failed.

  “Use it, my lord,” Cannon said formally.

  Hugo gritted his teeth and took it, then glanced up at the sky. The other mages were swarming Shael. Then, somehow, Shael was gone. Kuzo was hit with something and mages tumbled from his twisting form, falling toward the ground.

  Hugo ran toward them and then stopped short as the sounds of battle were punctuated by three short bursts of a horn. “Did you hear that?” he said, glancing around wildly.

  “The war horn?” Cannon said.

  “It is my father’s,” Hugo’s face was white. “He would not use it unless his need was great.”

  “I think it came from the front,” Cannon said, pointing.

  “I’m going,” Hugo growled, sprinting in the direction that he had indicated. Cannon rushed beside him, helping him press his way to the heat of the battle. With his hand raised before him as they ran, those that blocked their path were gently shoved out of the way to one side or the other; they were at the front in under a minute.

  There they found Hugo’s father, fighting back to back with Thieutukar Manisse. Tuck was trading blows with Gadjihalt himself, while the High King of Aberdeen struggled to fend off a giant spider, which was down from eight legs to five.

  Cannon turned as someone screamed nearby. “Go,” Hugo said, then rushed to his father’s aid. He cut five legs down to three with a few quick strokes of his sword and stepped back as his father finished the creature.

  “Hugo!” Remy said, with an expression somewhere between relief and trepidation. “You’ve come back.”

  There was no time for a response. Thieutukar stumbled backward, and they spun to help him.

  For the first time since before he had been imprisoned in the box, Hugo stood face to face with Gadjihalt. The tall, broad man looked even larger than he remembered. He was covered in shining black mail from head to foot and carried a large sword in each hand. One of them, Hugo noticed, was his own. His real sword. The other sword, Gadjihalt held point down in the grass. He leaned on it like a cane as he stepped toward them. He was an intimidating figure, even with the limp, but Hugo was surprised that he had lasted so long against Thieutukar, who was the deadliest swordsman Hugo had ever seen.

  “Greetings, princeling,” Gadjihalt said. “Welcome to the party. Did you enjoy your time in the Panthion?”

  “Immensely,” Hugo said. “I’d like my sword back now, if you don’t mind.” He sprang forward, feinting high and thrusting low in an attempt to catch Gadjihalt’s bad leg.

  Hugo quickly learned why Tuck had yet to conquer the ancient warrior. Gadjihalt did not pivot, as Hugo expected him to do. Nor did he guard his leg. Rather, he brought one of his swords up with a quick flick that packed more power than Hugo would have thought possible. The blade in Hugo’s hand broke in half with a crack, and the free end sailed away to land harmlessly in the grass. Gadjihalt gave a satisfied nod and leaned back on his second sword, waiting for another attack.

  “It’s rather like swinging your sword at a windmill, isn’t it?” Thieutukar said mildly. Then more seriously, “Together this time.”

  Hugo, Remy, and Thieutukar spread out from each other and inched toward Gadjihalt, the king in the middle, with Hugo and Thieutukar on either side. Gadjihalt continued to lean on his sword with a thoughtful expression. He seemed to be more concerned with watching the progression of the battle than the fact that he had three deadly swordsmen creeping up on him.

  The moment before they came close enough to strike, Gadjihalt leapt at Remy with incredible speed. He brought both swords high over his head and then down. Remy was barely fast enough to bring his own blade up in time to block. He deflected Gadjihalt’s attack, but the force of the blow made his knees buckle and his lower back crack audibly. He shouted and fell forward onto the ground, alive, but unable to rise on his own.

  As Gadjihalt flew past, Hugo brought the shortened blade to bear on the old warrior’s exposed flank, but the broken sword glanced off Gadjihalt’s armor.

  “Take mine,” his father gasped, rising to one knee and tossing Hugo his sword. Hugo caught it deftly with his right hand, keeping the broken one in his left, and planted his feet firmly beside the king of the gnomes to face Gadjihalt once more.

  “One down,” Gadjihalt said with a grin.

  Hugo lunged forward and then dove to the ground midway through his attack in order to avoid a spout of flames.

  Kuzo had dropped out of the sky above their heads. A white dragon broke through the line of soldiers behind them and added her fire to the flames engulfing Gadjihalt. Thieutukar dropped to the ground as well, covering his face.

  Hugo expected Gadjihalt to scream, but he did not. When the fire died, he dropped to his knees. His black armor was glowing in several places, and a thin line of smoke curled out of the opening in his helmet.

  Kuzo stomped and the ground shuddered. “Your master’s spells cannot save you forever, Mortal. Eventually, you will burn.”

  “Perhaps,” Gadjihalt grunted.

  Kuzo roared and lunged. He brought one foot down on Gadjihaltls left, the other on his right, and swept his tail around behind him, cutting off his retreat, but even as he opened his mouth for the kill, Gadjihalt darted forward, rolled under the dragon’s belly and scraped his sword across his scales.

  There was a dull, almost musical tone and sparks danced from the blade, but the scales remained intact.

  Kuzo roared in anger whipped his tail around, nearly leveling several people on his own side. Hugo dove out of the way just in time to avoid it, and did not see whatever happened next. When he looked up again Gadjihalt was dancing away from the dragon, lifting a thin silver horn from his belt. He sounded it twice and then rolled to avoid another burst of flame. Tabitha had come upon Gadjihalt from behind.

  Two men dropped from Tabitha’s back then. One was Archibald, who carried a sword rather than his usual cane. The other was a stranger to Hugo but he had a big warhammer and he looked like he knew how to use it, so Hugo was glad for his company.

  Just then the air split with a high-pitched cry and three enormous birds dove at them from the bridge, talons outstretched to meet the dragons.

  Gadjihalt gave a cry of triumph.

  Tearing attention away from Gadjihalt, Tabitha caught one of the birds and pulled it to the ground. Bellowing in fury, Kuzo soared into the air to grapple with the other. To Hugo’s horror, the third bird picked Thieutukar up by the arms and hauled him into the sky.

  “Come, Ben!” Archibald shouted, an
d he and the stranger raced off on foot after the king of the gnomes.

  With a shiver, Hugo found himself facing Gadjihalt alone.

  The old warrior chuckled. He pulled his second sword out of the ground with a wince and raised it in invitation.

  Hugo fought the urge to run.

  Gadjihalt lunged at him three times in quick succession. Hugo parried the first, sidestepped the second, and blocked the third with the broken sword, which cracked off at the hilt.

  Hugo shouted in frustration and hurled the broken pommel at Gadjihalt’s head. To his great surprise, it struck the black helmet with a dull clang and made the older man stumble for a moment.

  Hugo took advantage of the distraction and leaped forward, abandoning a defensible position in an effort to gain momentum. It did not occur to him that Gadjihalt might be faking, that the old warrior might have let the pommel hit his helmet, might have stumbled on purpose to lure him in. Hugo realized his error soon enough.

  The moment Hugo closed the distance between them, Gadjihalt whirled on him, dealing out a chorus of blows that Hugo barely survived. The hilt of his father’s sword vibrated dangerously as he parried first one blow, then the next. By the last one, Hugo was so bent on escape, so sure that he would not find it, that in a final, thoughtless act of desperation, he reached for the light again.

  Unexpectedly, instead of hindering him, Molad reached for darkness at the same instant, and together they fell into a dance of light and dark and steel that they had rehearsed once before in the halls of the gnome king.

  Hugo flowed in and out of the dance, moving from guard to attack to guard again with no time to wonder why Molad was assisting him.

  Gadjihalt advanced with another double-overhand swing, and Hugo and Molad dove between his legs, tucking into a tight roll. Rolling to their feet behind him, they twisted, slicing at the weak armor behind Gadjihalt’s knees.

  The ancient warrior groaned and buckled, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Hugo gave a cry of jubilation and felt Molad do the same. And then, without warning, Molad turned on him.

  Something became clear to Hugo then: he should never have let Molad out, never given him so much trust and freedom. But it was too late. Hugo was tired, and Molad was strong, and free. Hugo quickly became a prisoner.

  If you try to wield the darkness, Hugo said from the familiar cell of his own mind, I will be free to take up the light. I’ll stop you.

  If you try to stop me, Molad returned, I will destroy us both.

  Gadjihalt planted one sword into the ground and twisted around on his knees, raising the other in a final attempt to defend himself.

  In the same instant, Molad plunged his blade to the hilt into Gadjihalt’s exposed underarm, dividing ribs, lungs, and heart in a single movement. Then, without waiting for the body to fall, he turned on his heels and sprinted to the wall of wind in the center of the surging battle, beyond which Shael would die unless he intervened.

  ***

  Brinley barely noticed Shael’s taunting words, barely registered the satisfied smile on his face. She was distracted by something else, something that had to do with Hugo. He had been there, a moment before, fighting Gadjihalt alongside his father. In a single moment he had grown incredibly powerful, and the next, he had vanished from her awareness, leaving only a shadow behind, a dark, incorporeal personality that settled into place inside her heart like a disease.

  Molad stepped through the wind-wall, and at his touch, darkness spread through it like a poison, changing wind to swirling shadow and crawling up Animus’s outstretched arm like a snake.

  The Mage of Wind withdrew his arm from the wall as if he had been bitten. With a quick shake he flung the snake away. There was no fear in his eyes, only surprise, and a strange, intense tenderness for the dark-eyed boy that faced him. He took a step back and held up his hands in surrender.

  Molad touched the bonds that held Shael, and another black serpent slipped from his hand, devouring first wood, then metal.

  Chantra glanced in question at Animus, fingers twitching in the air, but the Mage of Wind shook his head, and she let her hands fall to her sides.

  Shael got to his feet.

  Trapped inside his own body, his own mind, Hugo was trying desperately to escape. For a few moments, he had believed Molad—believed that if he tried to fight back, Molad would really destroy them, so he hadn’t fought. He had looked on as Molad killed Gadjihalt, attacked Animus, and released Shael. But with each small victory of the darkness, with each small decision to do nothing, Hugo felt himself losing power. It was as if the cell that bound him was contracting. He felt Molad’s thoughts pouring into his own, and for a few moments he couldn’t separate himself from them. Molad was trying to absorb him, to erase him, to devour him, and he was close to succeeding.

  Blindly, Hugo fumbled for an anchor to grasp, something, anything that would keep his dwindling identity alive. He reached for his earliest memories—watching the sunset from his father’s balcony when he was a boy, learning to use a sword, sneaking out of his lessons with Archibald—and threw them around himself like a cloak, a banner of his own experience, proof of his existence. And the darkness devoured them, leaving behind a confused, quivering question where the bright memory of his past had been just a moment before.

  Hugo reeled as his foundation was torn out from under him. Desperately, he searched his future for an anchor instead, his thoughts and dreams about what might be, what he might become. He was a prince. Someday he would be the king. He was a mage. Someday he would save the world. He was a friend—Brinley’s friend, and Tabitha’s and Cannon’s—someday he would care for them the way that they had cared for him. This was who he was! He spun the truth that he had found into a tiny, shimmering star and placed it in his heart. Surely this would stand up to the darkness that infested his soul.

  But he had let the darkness in too far. There was no place to hide. No place Molad could not touch, no truth the darkness could not forget. And so his friendship and kinghood, his calling as a mage, were gone. His name went next, and the person who had once been Hugo cowered in the midst of a darkness that was so complete, the only thing left of him was a small, unthinking awareness.

  Inside the Mage of Light and Darkness, the awareness that had been Hugo sat still amid the swirling black, watching one tiny light, the last light of its soul, the only one that Molad could not devour. He could no longer name it, for thought itself escaped him, but the light felt warm, and so he watched it, taking great care not to look away.

  ***

  Outside, far away from the flickering awareness and the tiny light, Shael smiled. But he did not move. He was too careful, too cunning to make a mistake now. Molad was battling Hugo for the stewardship of their soul, and he was not about to distract them.

  Molad reached into his pocket, then withdrew his hand and dropped a smooth black stone at Brinley’s feet.

  “Release us,” he whispered.

  Brinley bent to pick up the stone. It was the memory rock that she had given to Hugo on his sickbed. The same one that she had asked Cannon to deliver to him in the Panthion. She turned it over in her fingers and searched Molad’s dark eyes.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. She touched his mind with her own, looking for a trace of Hugo within the darkness, but Molad shut her out.

  “Stop that!” he spat. He grabbed her hand with both of his, forcing it to close around the stone. “Release us,” he demanded. “You have to let us go. You are holding us back.”

  “I don’t understand,” Brinley said. But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she began to. She could no longer feel Hugo, but if Molad was so insistent that she let him go, he must still be alive. “He’s not gone,” she said, willing it to be the truth. “You can’t destroy him, and you think I’m the reason.”

  “He has made his choice,” Molad sneered. “Now you are getting in his way.” He poked her in the chest. “Don’t you trust him enough to let him go?”

  �
�Yes,” she said. “But I can’t give you what you ask. It is not in my power to sever my connection with him.”

  He remains a threat to Molad, Animus whispered in her mind, as long as he has that connection with you, he cannot be completely destroyed.

  Molad scowled and released her hands. “Very well,” he said. “Time will eventually accomplish what you cannot. Until then, Hugo and I will just have to go on with our little struggle.” His lips twitched in a smile. “It is over anyway.”

  He walked back to take his place beside Shael, and the sorcerer put a hand on his shoulder. Then Shael walked through the wall of darkness, leaving them behind.

  Molad swept his gaze over Brinley and the mages one last time. “Come and fight me, or wait here, as you wish. Either way, it ends the same.” He took a step toward the darkness, and Brinley did the last thing that she could think of.

  Hugo, she called. She poured her whole soul into his name, every moment of joy, every memory of love and happiness, and all her memories of him—what he was, how she saw him, her dreams of what he could become.

  Molad froze.

  Hugo, Brinley called again.

  “Stop that,” Molad said, as if in a trance. Then he shouted it, placing his hands over his ears. “STOP THAT!”

  Hugo! Brinley called again. HUGO!

  The last time, she did not call alone; five voices cried together with hers. All of the mages had joined her, adding their own power, their own memories to the call.

  Molad crumpled to the ground, and Brinley crossed the distance between them in a stride. She pressed her hand against his chest, calling to the light that she had placed within him all those weeks ago. She called to the darkness too, and they both answered.

  Two hands, one gold and glistening, the other pitch black, burst from the center of his chest to receive the gift that in her one brief moment of influence, she had decided to give.

  She placed the smooth, dark stone into the hands and they closed over it, interlacing light and dark fingers around the memories of Brinley’s love and peace and friendship, before disappearing back into Molad’s chest.