The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  Darek rolled his eyes, but then clutched his hand as soon as the burn flared again. Without so much as a warning, Yorak pointed at Darek's hand, her stone glowed, and the burning went away as if it had never been there at all. He opened his mouth to thank her, but now Yorak and the Magical Superior were talking and he didn't want to interrupt their obviously important discussion, whatever it might have been about.

  “How do you feel?” asked Aorja, putting her hands together in concern. Her guitar was no longer with her; perhaps she had forgotten it in the rush of things. “Can you still breathe?”

  “Yes, I can,” said Darek, waving off her concern. “You should be focusing on Jiku. He's the one who was in the midst of the explosion. I'd be surprised if he survived this.”

  “He will,” said the Magical Superior suddenly, causing Darek, Mom, and Aorja to look at him. “Yorak confirmed that he will live. He will have to rest for a few hours, however, as the spells she cast on him work best when the target is asleep. We will need to transport him to the Arcanium until he wakes up.”

  “Oh, that's wonderful to hear,” said Aorja with a sigh. “I was worried that the old coot wasn't going to make it.”

  “He wouldn't have, had not this young man saved him,” said Yorak, nodding at Darek. “What is your name?”

  “Darek Takren,” said Darek. He gestured at Jiku. “And he's Jiku Nium. Once he awakes, I'll be sure to let him know that you saved his life. Jiku always liked to thank people who helped him, so I'm sure he will be anxious to thank the person who saved his life later.”

  “That would be you, wouldn't it?” said Yorak, looking at him like she wasn't sure that he had been paying attention. “After all, it was you who ran into that burning building and saved him, yes?”

  “Yes, but I didn't even know he was in there and you were the one who actually healed him anyway, ma'am,” said Darek. “I just heard him calling for help. I originally ran in there because I wanted to make sure that there was no one in there and wanted to see if I could save any of my possessions.”

  “Jiku's been missing all morning,” Aorja added. “None of us knew where he was until now. We thought he might have been in the Arcanium, sick.”

  Yorak turned to look at the Magical Superior, a questioning expression on her face. “Superior, why was one of your students inside his dorm room, rather than outside waiting to greet the rest of us?”

  The Magical Superior stroked his chin, his eyes darting between the unconscious Jiku lying on the grass and the burning Third Dorm, which the other mages finally seemed to be getting under control, if the rapidly decreasing size of the flames and smoke was any indication. “I do not know the answer to that question, Yorak. This should not have happened. At this point, I know as much as you do about this situation.”

  The silent aquarian with a goldfish-like head—perhaps Yorak's assistant, who had up until this point been completely silent—pointed at Jiku and looked at Yorak. Yorak returned the look and stared at her assistant for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the Magical Superior.

  “My pupil, Auratus, wants to know why we don't just read your student's mind to find out what happened to him,” said Yorak. “Which I think is a good point.”

  “Because that would break the Telemancy Rules of Ethics,” said the Magical Superior. “Rule Number One is that you cannot use telemancy to read someone's mind without their permission except in emergencies.”

  “That one of your dorm buildings was blown up, and two of your students nearly killed as a result, does not count as an emergency?” Yorak asked, her voice skeptical. “Superior, I would think that this calls for an emergency of the highest order. There is clearly someone here in the school who is trying to cause harm.”

  “That is an odd conclusion to jump to, Yorak,” said the Magical Superior, leaning on his staff. “Jiku may have started the explosion accidentally. It is not unheard of for students here to try spells above their ability and which they do not understand. The consequences are usually even more disastrous than this.”

  “But this is different,” said Mom. She didn't seem at all intimidated by the looks that the two most powerful mages in the world were giving her, but then again, Mom had always been harder to intimidate than most people. “I know Jiku. He's an expert pyromancer. He could handle an explosion like that just fine. And anyway, he was far too responsible to cast an explosion in his own dorm room like that.”

  “Mom's right,” said Darek, nodding. “Jiku's one of the more advanced students. I can't see him doing something like this, not even accidentally. Someone else had to do it.”

  “But who?” Aorja wondered, looking at Jiku with worry on her features. “Who would have even tried to do something like this? Is there a spy among us?”

  “If there is, then what is to stop that spy from striking again?” said Yorak. “And maybe even putting my students at risk? Superior, I appreciate the gesture, but it may very well be time for me and my students to head back early. I do not want to put any of their lives at risk if there is a mad bomber running around blowing up dormitories.”

  Much to Darek's surprise, the Magical Superior actually grabbed Yorak's arm and looked at her pleadingly. It was odd because the Magical Superior rarely ever made physical contact with anyone, even with his own students. The pleading way that the Superior looked at Yorak was bizarre, too, which made Darek wonder just how close the two were and what the exact status of their relationship was.

  “Please, Yorak, don't leave just yet,” said the Magical Superior. “You just got here. Besides, we don't have all of the facts yet. We still need to examine the remains of the Third Dorm to find out who did it. It may be that this was a singular event, but rest assured that we will find out who did it and we will keep your students as safe as ours, if not safer.”

  Once again, Darek was struck by the Magical Superior's behavior. He spoke with the kind of conviction and attitude that Darek had never seen the Superior speak with before. It was like Skimif, the God of Martir, had taken the Superior's soul and replaced it with someone else's. He wondered if this was the same Magical Superior he had known for the last thirty years or if this was some kind of imposter pretending to be him.

  Even odder, Yorak didn't shake off the Magical Superior's hand. She just gave him a hard, skeptical look, as if she had been told this before and didn't quite believe it. Her pupil, Auratus, stood at her side, but whether she believed the Superior or not, it was impossible to tell.

  “All right,” said Yorak with a sigh. “I have always had a hard time saying no to you, Superior. I suppose we'll stay for now. But if something else like this happens, I will not hesitate to gather up my students and go back to the Institute. Understood?”

  “Completely,” said the Magical Superior as he let go of her arm. “Of course. I would do the same in your situation. I won't even try to stop you if you decide to do that.”

  Darek tilted his head. Clearly, the Magical Superior and Yorak must have known each other in the past, but that didn't explain where and how they met or what their relationship had been, exactly. It was probably none of his business, but seeing them treat each other like old friends still incited his curiosity and made him wish that he was a better dictamancer. Then he would be able to look into their past and see what happened back then.

  “I have no trouble believing that, Superior,” said Yorak. “But I do have trouble believing that this school is as safe as its reputation suggests.”

  “Don't worry,” said the Magical Superior. “This is the first time that something like this has happened in years, in decades even. I will personally investigate the matter and bring to justice whoever did it and thought they could get away with it. Guaranteed.”

  Next to Darek, Aorja rubbed her arm, like the situation was making her uncomfortable. She kept glancing at Jiku, no doubt wondering how he was feeling and whether he was going to be all right. Mom had her arms folded across her chest, her sharp eyes focused almost entirely on Yorak. Darek
knew that look well, for it was a look Darek had seen Mom give to many people over the years and it always meant that she didn't trust the individual in question, at least not entirely, although why Mom looked at Yorak, of all people, with that look, he didn't know.

  It's not like Yorak is behind the explosion, Darek thought. Is she just upset that Yorak thinks the school isn't safe or something?

  At that moment, a familiar, overly-loud voice shouted, “Superior! I have urgent news to deliver to you right away!”

  Darek looked up the steps of the Arcanium and groaned inwardly. A tall man, wearing black robes, with that stupid fox mask on his face, was running down the steps of the Arcanium toward them. He ran so fast that he seemed to be flying across the Arcanium's courtyard, his wand attached to his belt bouncing at his side.

  “Who is that?” said Yorak, blinking at the sight of the strange man.

  “Junaz Esperon,” said the Magical Superior, sounding a little bored. “The luminimancy and metamancy teacher. He's … unique, to put it lightly.”

  “Why is he wearing the face of a beast?” said Yorak.

  “He's crazy,” Mom confirmed.

  “Actually, it's because he thinks it will give him the cleverness of a fox,” said the Magical Superior.

  “Like I said, he's crazy,” said Mom.

  Darek had to avoid laughing at that, although a smirk crossed his lips involuntarily.

  “He's also a very good teacher and mechanic,” said the Magical Superior. “I was wondering where he was. He must have found something important if he was not present to greet you.”

  In less than a minute, Junaz was before them. His hands on his knees, he panted and had to push his long, dark hair out of his eyes in order to see through the slits in his mask. It was like he had run a mile, although the distance from the Arcanium to their current spot was not very long.

  “Magical Superior, sir,” said Junaz in between panting. “I captured two intruders who were trying to break into the school without us knowing. I believe they are the culprits who caused the explosion of Third Dorm in order to distract us from their real plan.”

  “Really?” said the Magical Superior. “That sounds almost too good to be true. Who are they?”

  “I have no idea,” said Junaz, shaking his head. “One of them resembles a huge bear, with fists as big as boulders and fur as red as heatstone. The other looks like a walking, talking tree, but I suspect neither of them are quite what they appear.”

  “So a giant bear and a talking tree tried to blow up the Third Dorm so they could sneak into the school without anyone noticing?” said Mom. “That's the craziest thing you've ever said, Junaz, and that's after you told me, when I first met you, that that fox mask of yours makes you as clever as the real thing.”

  An offended look flashed in Junaz's eyes as he said, “Sorry if that offends your narrow view of the world, Jenur, but it is quite true. They even succeeded in destroying Guardian. Trust me, I would never lie about that.”

  “If they destroyed Guardian, then they're definitely a threat,” said Aorja. “That thing is supposed to be unbeatable, isn't it?”

  “Yes,” said the Magical Superior. “So Junaz, where are these two intruders you spoke of?”

  “I put them in the catacombs, sir,” said Junaz, pointing at the ground beneath their feet. “Locked them up in the cells. They are not yet conscious, but I believe they will soon awake any minute now.”

  Darek grimaced, although no one seemed to notice. The catacombs were a series of underground tunnels and caves that ran underneath the entirety of the Arcanium. They had been built by the founder of North Academy, whoever he was, but their exact purpose was unknown, although nowadays the teachers used them to store supplies and important objects they couldn't store anywhere else.

  Darek had never liked the catacombs. They always seemed far too sinister for his taste, especially the jail cells. He didn't even know why the tunnels beneath a school would need prison cells in the first place; after all, to his knowledge, they had never even been used until today.

  “Then I will go down there to speak with them right away,” said the Magical Superior. “We will find out if they are involved with the explosion of the Third Dorm, and if they are not, why they tried to sneak into the school in the first place.”

  “I wish to come with you, Superior,” said Yorak. “If these two intruders are behind this tragedy, then I would like to know if they have any other terrible plans up their sleeves. For the safety of my students.”

  “Very well,” said the Magical Superior. “But first …”

  The Superior looked at Darek, Mom, and Aorja. “You three, take Jiku to the medical wing of the Arcanium. He should be resting on something better than the grass.” Then he looked at Junaz. “Junaz, you will take me and Yorak down to the catacombs and show us where you put the intruders.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Junaz, bowing.

  Yorak gestured at her pupil, Auratus. “Auratus, I want you to go and find out if the other students have found any clues among the debris of the Third Dorm. Please also tell the others that the intruders have been caught, but that the students should be prepared to leave at any time just in case.”

  Auratus did not respond to that verbally. She simply saluted Yorak and then ran off toward the Third Dorm without hesitation. She ran somewhat awkwardly across the grass, like she wasn't used to running on land.

  “Now then,” said the Magical Superior to Junaz. “Take us to the intruders. If they are truly the ones behind the explosion, then they are a clear threat to the students from both schools. And I do not tolerate threats to my students from anyone, no matter who they might be.”

  Chapter Four

  Durima's head hurt. Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt. Her back hurt. And every other part of her body hurt. Even worse, she could not remember why they hurt. They just did. Maybe they had always hurt and she was just realizing it now. She was getting on in years. Most katabans only lived to be five hundred, after all, although that may have been because most katabans got killed on missions for their gods or in some cases by the gods themselves. As a matter of fact, Durima did not know what the maximum age for a katabans was. She knew that the Katabans Council, the group who organized katabans society and enforced the rules all katabans followed, had several members who were older than five hundred and who seemed to be in good health still.

  Maybe we don't die at all, Durima thought. After all, it's not like these are our actual bodies. These suits of flesh are nothing more than forms we take on whenever we have to enter the physical world, to be discarded or swapped out at will.

  Then Durima shook her head and her memories came back to her. The automaton … the strange mortal … the flash of light that had hit her and Gujak with the force of a sledgehammer … it all came roaring back to her in an instant.

  Her eyes flickered open and she saw that she was lying on the floor of what appeared to be a cave. Putting her left hand flat on the ground, Durima tried to find out where she was.

  She sent a brief burst of geomancy into the earth, sort of like a sonar blast. Then the burst returned to her and she found out that she was still in North Academy's general area. Unfortunately, she was underground, deep underground if the signal was any indication, and she was apparently alone.

  Sitting up, rubbing the back of her head, Durima looked around at her cell. It must have been designed for someone much shorter than her, because the ceiling was low over her head and the walls were too narrow for her liking. There wasn't much room for her to move and stretch, despite the fact that her arms and legs were not particularly long.

  A set of tall, metal bars stood before her, the only thing standing between her and freedom. They looked old, even ancient. Though Durima was still in pain, she didn't see any reason she couldn't knock these bars out with one good punch from her fists. Then she could find Gujak and they could continue with their mission.

  So Durima stood up as much as she could (although she had
to crouch to avoid scraping her head against the ceiling) and walked over to the bars. Pulling back her fist, she slammed it directly into the bars as hard as she could.

  To her encouragement, the bars actually bent inwards. They didn't break or go flying, but it was an encouraging sign, making her rear back again to punch it again.

  Then, before her startled eyes, the bars began to fix themselves. Slowly but surely, the bars bent back to their original shape, leaving no sign at all that they had just been bent inward not one minute earlier.

  “What the hell?” said Durima. “What is this? More mortal magic?”

  “Durima?” said Gujak's voice, which sounded like it was coming from the cell next to hers. “Are you awake?”

  “Yes,” said Durima, not bothering to hide the frustration in her voice. “You as well?”

  “Yep,” said Gujak. “But my head hurts. I think I took the brunt of that strange mortal's attack.”

  “I'm willing to bet that you didn't,” said Durima. “But it doesn't matter. How long have we been down here?”

  “I don't know,” said Gujak. “There aren't any windows or anything to let the sun shine in, so I don't know what time it is or how many hours have passed or anything. I've just been sitting here in the dark for a while trying to think of a way to escape.”

  “Have you tried using the ethereal?” Durima asked.

  “The ethereal doesn't go down here,” said Gujak. “Trust me, if it did, I would have gotten out of here long ago.”

  Durima cursed. Of course. She had forgotten that the ethereal—that second plane of existence accessible only to gods and katabans—did not, for whatever reason, extend underground. It only allowed people traveling upon it to appear on the surface. Why this particular limitation existed, she didn't know, but she suspected that the Powers must have built it into the ethereal when they were laying the foundations of Martir eons ago.

  “It doesn't matter,” said Durima. “I think we'll be able to get out of here pretty easily. Human-made prisons are almost always designed for humans, not katabans like us.”