Thinblade

by David A. Wells

  Alexander held up his hands to stop Lucky from continuing. “Okay, so wizards are made with the mana fast. Why can’t anyone become an arch mage?”

  Lucky nodded. “An arch mage is made with a second mana fast, except the mage’s fast is longer and the quantity of Wizard’s Dust required is much greater. The truth is, if one could procure a sufficient quantity of Wizard’s Dust and survive the mage’s fast, one could become an arch mage. However, the process is supposed to be much more dangerous. The old histories state that over half who attempt it are lost and that the odds of surviving such an ordeal improve significantly with the assistance of another arch mage. Since the time of the Reishi War, those few wizards who were able to acquire enough Wizard’s Dust to make the attempt all perished. Over the centuries, Wizard’s Dust has become more and more scarce. Those who do come by it usually find far more productive uses for it.”

  Alexander nodded as he considered his next question. “You told me my vision, the way I can see colors, comes from Mom and Dad. Isn’t that a form of magic?”

  “It is, but it’s much more limited than the kind of magic a wizard or witch can wield. Wizard’s Dust is all around us. It’s a natural part of nature. It’s in the water we drink, the food we eat, and even the air we breathe. In its natural form, it’s a dust so fine that one grain can’t even be seen. It is the very stuff of life. Without it we wouldn’t even exist. The first wizards, even before the Reishi, found that this magical substance existed in high concentrations in certain natural springs. Those who drank this rare water found that they were able to wield small magic. Much later, they discovered that they could use the waters of these sacred springs to perform the mana fast. This discovery marks the dawn of wizardry.

  “Your ability to see colors exists because you have an unusually high concentration of Wizard’s Dust in your blood because of your parents. They both survived the mana fast, so they both possess a greater amount of Wizard’s Dust and they passed some of it on to you.”

  Abigail frowned, “Why didn’t Darius or I get any magic?”

  Lucky nodded as he continued. “Not all who have naturally high levels of Wizard’s Dust in their blood manifest abilities. In fact, it’s very rare for one who hasn’t survived the mana fast to be able to use magic to any significant degree at all.”

  “Okay, next question. What’s the firmament, why is it dangerous and how does a wizard use it to make magic?” Alexander was determined to learn as much as possible about magic while he could. He’d questioned Lucky about it in the past but the old alchemist would never reveal much. Alexander always suspected his parents had told Lucky to avoid the subject but he was never sure why.

  He remembered the day he told his mom about the colors he could see. She’d looked very worried, even frightened. He spent the rest of the afternoon being peppered with questions by his father, mother, and Lucky. After that, Lucky had worked with him to control and guide his vision but revealed very little about magic in general to his young student.

  “The firmament is the substance of creation. It underlies all of reality and provides solidity to all that you see and feel.” Lucky smiled at the frowns of confusion all around him. “The firmament is unformed reality. As we move through time, the firmament is the stuff of the moment. There is no existence in the past or the future, only in the now. That is the firmament in action. The moment of reality that just passed is gone because the firmament manifests only in the present moment. The moment of reality it will create two breaths’ time from now is only a possibility.” He looked hard at Alexander for a spark of understanding.

  Alexander’s brow drew down for just a moment before his eyes went wide. “If the moments yet to come are only possibilities and a wizard can control the firmament, then he can make it do his bidding. He can shape the way the firmament manifests reality according to his will.” Alexander’s voice trailed off in wonder.

  Lucky smiled broadly the way he always did when one of the children answered correctly. “Exactly right,” he said with a firm nod. Then he waited for the inevitable questions that would follow.

  He didn’t have long to wait. “But then, why is it so dangerous? Why do wizards get lost in it?”

  It was the question Lucky had expected, the next logical question. “When your mind is in the firmament, the possibilities are infinite. The only boundaries are those you bring with you. A wizard without a clear vision of what he wants to happen can easily get lost in the boundless possibilities. Time does not exist within the firmament, so while a wizard is sorting through infinity for the outcome he desires, his body can wither and die. The second danger is a lack of discipline. Linking one’s mind with the firmament can be a rapturous experience. Without a firm connection to one’s real existence, a wizard can simply forget that he even exists and be swept away in the ecstasy of limitless creation.”

  Lucky was about to go on but Anatoly touched his arm to silence him. “Alexander, I know you have many questions but now is not the time. We still have a good distance to travel and we’re hunted by more than just men. We’ll move faster tomorrow if we’re all well rested. Besides, you’ve learned enough tonight to think on for the time being.”

  As if on cue, Alexander yawned. He felt weariness settle on him like a heavy blanket. He nodded, “It has been a long day.”

  Chapter 12

  There was a firm but measured knock at the door. Phane smiled suggestively at the serving maid standing off to the side of his table. He’d decided to take dinner in the study of the rather modest keep that was his new home.

  “My dear, please take my plate and bring me a bottle of wine. Tell the cook I’d like some of that dark red, very dry wine he served at dinner two nights ago.”

  Dora was seventeen years old, stood five feet eight inches tall with a slender build and pretty, long auburn hair tied back in a ponytail. She wore a simple serving girl’s dress that was off grey in color and low cut. She was uncomfortable serving her new Prince but her family needed their place in the keep and her service was part of the price of their room and board.

  She answered Phane in a little voice, “Yes, My Prince, right away.”

  Phane sat back in his chair to give her the space to remove his half-finished dinner while he leered at her shamelessly. She blushed and cleared his table quickly.

  Dora opened the door, balancing her tray in one hand, and bowed her head to the General Commander who stood, hands clasped behind his back, waiting patiently just outside the door. When Jataan P’Tal saw the young maid, he stood aside to permit her to leave on her errand.

  “Good evening, My Prince.” Jataan said nothing else while he waited for Phane to acknowledge him.

  “Ah yes, Commander P’Tal, come in.”

  Jataan P’Tal stepped up to the table but said nothing.

  Phane regarded him for a long moment. “I have it on good authority that the men of the Reishi Protectorate on the Isle of Ruatha have failed to apprehend the fugitive in Southport. It would seem that he is proving to be more trouble than either of us thought.”

  The serving maid came to an abrupt stop at the threshold of the door with a bottle of dark red wine and a large silver goblet. She waited for the Prince to call her in.

  He smiled past Jataan P’Tal and said, “Come in, my dear.” He kept smiling as he watched her bring the wine to his table. He took a hard look at the bottle and nodded. “Very good, my dear, please close the door on your way out.” He watched her start to leave.

  Just when she reached the door he said, “Oh, one more thing.”

  She stopped and turned. “Yes, My Prince?”

  He looked at her as if he were seeing right through her. Then, with a smile that could only be described as lewd, he asked, “Have you ever been with a man?”

  Dora blushed furiously while struggling to compose herself. She opened her mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. Phane smiled like he was watching a bug squirm on the end of his knife. “Well?” he asked with a slight edge
to his voice.

  “No,” she finally stuttered. She looked like she would rather be anywhere else.

  Phane smiled even more broadly, a boyish, innocent smile that looked like joy itself. “Excellent, bring another bottle of wine just like this one to my quarters in an hour.”

  Jataan P’Tal didn’t think her face could turn any more red than it was but he was wrong. He could clearly see the wild terror dancing in her eyes as he watched Phane toy with her.

  She managed to murmur, “Yes, My Prince,” before she turned and fled without closing the door.

  Phane chuckled to himself while he worked the cork loose from the bottle of wine and poured half of it into the oversized silver goblet. He held the goblet almost reverently as he swirled the wine for a moment while breathing deeply of its bouquet. He chuckled to himself again before taking a long drink. Jataan stood quietly and watched him savor his wine.

  Phane looked up abruptly as if Jataan’s presence had interrupted his reverie. “I will be sending a little surprise for the Rebel Mage’s puppet. I expect that he will not escape this time. However, I must be sure, so I’m sending you as well.” Phane looked intently at Jataan P’Tal’s impassive face for a reaction.

  Jataan P’Tal was the General Commander of the Reishi Protectorate. He had risen to the post by setting his feelings and opinions aside in favor of a single-minded devotion to the protection of the Reishi line. He didn’t hesitate.

  “I will make arrangements to leave in the morning.”

  Phane nodded slowly before taking another drink from his goblet. “I don’t expect he will live through tomorrow night but I need to be sure, and I have another reason for sending you.” He looked up at Jataan as he poured the rest of the bottle into the goblet. “I need you to bring me his head, especially the part of his neck that was marked by the Rebel Mage’s spell. I may be able to glean some information of value from it.

  “If he is able to elude death before he reaches Glen Morillian, you will have to go in and kill him there. Take what men you need. I’ll send Kludge with any new orders, and, Commander P’Tal, I will be watching.” Phane smiled ever so slightly at Jataan P’Tal’s almost imperceptible reaction.

  The General Commander saluted, fist to heart. “It will be done, My Prince.”

  An hour later Phane lounged comfortably in the overstuffed chair in his personal chambers. He whistled to himself while he waited for the serving girl. Kludge sat on top of a bookshelf eating a rat. Phane smiled when he heard the timid knock at his door.

  He reached out with his magic to feel for her fear. It was palpable. He could sense it even through the door. She would do well.

  He took a deep breath, got up and strolled to the door. She was trembling. How delicious, he thought. Phane looked her up and down, very deliberately, and smiled his most lascivious smile. “Please, do come in.” The words dripped off his tongue.

  Dora hesitated as she held out the bottle and goblet, still trembling and clearly terrified. She looked like a trapped animal who wanted to run for her life.

  Phane cocked his head and let his smile slip away. She shrank away from his look and meekly entered the room, heading straight for the table. He closed the door and bolted it while looking over his shoulder at the young woman. She jumped at the sound of the bolt being thrown but didn’t falter. She went to the table, opened the wine and filled the goblet. When she was finished, she carefully positioned herself so the table was between her and Phane.

  “If there’s nothing else, My Prince, I’ll leave you to your wine.” She stood, eyes on the table, waiting for his dismissal. Phane simply stared at her until she looked up timidly.

  “Oh, but there is…” He smiled at her trembling. “I have something very special in mind for you tonight.”

  “Please, My Prince, may I go to my quarters now?” She sobbed slightly.

  Phane soaked up her fear. He drew it in and savored it. “No.” He pronounced it like a sentence.

  She started to protest but he cut her off. “Come with me. Leave the wine.” Then he turned and went to a door leading from his well-appointed main room.

  She followed hesitantly. He could still feel her fear. How exquisite this would be.

  He led her into a perfectly circular room of bare stone about forty feet across. In the center of the floor was a double-ringed circle of inlaid gold with complicated symbols inlaid in silver packed into the six inches between each gold ring.

  Dora stood at the threshold of the door, clearly confused.

  “What? You thought I was going to take you to my bed?” Phane shook his head in mock disappointment, then suddenly snatched the front of her dress and ripped it clear down to her waist, exposing her breasts and causing her fear to spike into panic. She tried to back out of the room and away from Phane but he grabbed her by the wrist, jerked her past him and tossed her to the floor. He threw the bolt on the door and cast a simple binding spell to prevent it from being opened.

  “Oh no, my dear, you won’t enjoy the comforts of my bed this night.” When he strolled past her, she skittered away from him toward the door. He regarded her calmly while she struggled but failed to unbolt the door. “I’m afraid there is no escape, my dear.”

  Phane began his spell. He chanted a dark and guttural incantation over and over again.

  Dora sat with her back to the door and sobbed with her arms wrapped around her knees to cover her exposed breasts.

  The air within the circle began to darken until it took on the consistency of black smoke. Then it got darker, more opaque, and substantial. It whirled slowly in a column that stretched nearly to the vaulted ceiling. The light of the lamps that ringed the room seemed to be soaked up by the swirling vortex of darkness, dimming the entire room. Phane continued to chant. The darkness grew to fill the circle.

  When Dora saw a pair of hateful yellow eyes looking out of the inky blackness at her, she screamed. She could just make out the shape of a giant wolf's head in the dark. And it was staring right at her. She wanted to scream again but she was frozen with terror.

  Phane abruptly stopped chanting. Two more pairs of eyes appeared, all staring at Dora. Her fear had transformed into a visceral, breathless panic. She was frozen by the deadly glare of the now three sets of hateful yellow eyes looking right at her from out of the inky blackness.

  “I bind you to my will!” Phane spoke the words of command with such force that Dora could feel the power of his pronouncement echo in her chest. All three sets of eyes turned at once to Phane. He smiled tightly.

  “Take form on the Isle of Ruatha. Hunt Alexander Valentine and kill him. He was last known to be in the vicinity of Southport. These are my commands.” Prince Phane’s voice reverberated around the circular room.

  As one, the three nether wolves howled. It was a sound that no living thing could make. Dora screamed again and shut her eyes tightly.

  Phane smiled at her as he reached out for her with his magic. She felt a viselike grip around her ankle but could see nothing there. She screamed again with renewed panic when the invisible grip started dragging her slowly toward the circle and the darkness and the hateful eyes. She struggled for her life, kicking and begging, but Phane’s spell pulled her toward her doom.

  When her leg entered the circle, the jaws of the nearest nether wolf snatched her by the ankle and jerked her into the swirling darkness. She screamed and wailed as the three beasts tore her apart and devoured her. When her screaming died out, the slowly whirling column of blackness began to fade. In just moments the air cleared and the room brightened. There was nothing left of Dora except a few scraps of her dress and the stain of her blood on the floor.

  Prince Phane nodded in satisfaction and started whistling as he turned toward the door.

  Chapter 13

  Alexander woke to the smell of breakfast cooking. For a moment he almost forgot where he was. In that in-between state, not quite asleep, not quite awake, he almost thought he was back at Valentine Manor in his very comfortable b
ed, but only for a moment.

  Reality hit him suddenly and just as suddenly he was wide awake. Abigail was just rousing in the farm hand’s bunk on the other side of the small room. Alexander’s bed was lumpy and uncomfortable but the blankets were warm and it beat sleeping on the ground. He sat up and stretched. Abigail came fully awake with a start. She sat up, quickly looking for trouble. Seeing that there was none, she flopped back onto her pillow with a groan.

  Alexander smiled gently. “Good morning. Smells like breakfast is about ready.”

  She groaned again and waved him off. Abigail was not a morning person and Alexander knew it. He’d teased her about it often enough when they were children. That time seemed so long ago. He suddenly felt a stab of guilt for every unkind thing he’d ever done to her. She was his sister and quite possibly the only family he had left.

  “I’ll keep a plate warm for you,” he said quietly before he left the little room.

  Everyone else was already up and about. Lucky sat at the table slathering a fresh biscuit with thick blackberry jam. Anatoly stood at the window looking out over the fields, while nursing a mug of steaming hot black tea. Jack and Owen were bustling around in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

  Alexander got himself a cup of tea and took a seat at the table next to Lucky.

  “Good morning, my boy,” Lucky said around a mouthful of biscuit. The old alchemist was as cheerful as ever. Alexander marveled at how easily Lucky could find delight in the smallest things. He supposed it was a talent that his tutor had cultivated for many years.

  Breakfast was hearty and filling. They had skillet-fried potatoes, spicy sausage, scrambled eggs, and fresh biscuits with jam and butter. There was more than enough for everyone to eat their fill and then some. Jack seemed to be in his element, playing host and ensuring that his guests were well fed. Owen followed his lead with practiced ease.