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

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  “The only reason that my gods haven't attacked you yet is because I haven't ordered them to,” said Skimif. “They're waiting for my signal.”

  Uron's eyes darted around the area, but Darek didn't feel nervous about that. There was no way Uron could escape, nothing he could use to attack the gods, much less defeat them. He was as good as trapped and there was not a thing he could do about it.

  Then Uron looked at Skimif … and grinned. “I guess, then, that your gods will be waiting a very long time for that signal. Because you will never get to use it.”

  Uron held out his arm to his right. The Magical Superior, who was still lying on the ground (although he had been stirring like he was waking up), vanished into thin air. The next moment, the Superior appeared in Uron's hands. The fingers of Uron's right hand wrapped around the Superior's windpipe, while his right hand held the Superior's body upright.

  Skimif took a step forward, while the other gods made various sounds of disgust and annoyance. “What are you doing with the Magical Superior?”

  Uron rolled his eyes. “I see why the Powers made you the God of Martir. You are easily the slowest god of them all.”

  “Let the Superior go!” Darek shouted, causing the gods to look at him like they had forgotten he was even there. “Don't you dare harm him or I'll—”

  Uron burst out into laughter, cutting Darek off. “Ha! You, a pathetic mortal, are threatening me? The audacity is humorous and well-appreciated. Please, this is too much.”

  “I understand what he's trying to do, Skimif,” said Nimiko, who stood near Darek. “He's using the Magical Superior as a human shield.”

  “That's a little bit closer, God of Light, but not quite entirely correct,” said Uron. He tightened his grip around the Magical Superior's neck, making the headmaster choke. “I am using him as a human fortress, to allow me to ride out the siege that you gods have put me under.”

  “What nonsense,” said one of the gods, a winged woman with an eagle-like face who Darek thought was the Avian Goddess. “Why are we still standing around here waiting? Skimif, order us to attack and wipe out this fool from the face of Martir.”

  But Skimif didn't look likely to order any of the gods to do anything. He seemed to be thinking, but whatever he was thinking about must not have been good because he was frowning in frustration.

  “Skimif will never order you gods to attack me,” said Uron. “Not even if I was one step away from completely destroying this world you call home. Because he knows I will end this mortal's life if he does and innocent blood will be on his hands.”

  Skimif's silence was all the confirmation anyone needed to know that Uron's claim was accurate.

  “What will you do, then?” said Nimiko. “Just because we won't attack you doesn't mean we'll let you get away so you can complete your plans later.”

  “Nimiko is correct,” said the Avian Goddess. “We will stay here until Skimif orders us otherwise. You can't hold the Magical Superior forever.”

  Uron didn't look disturbed by the presence of so many deities all deciding to wait it out. He simply chuckled. “Interesting. We must be more similar than I thought. My plan, too, is to wait out this stalemate, although unlike you, I know it will end and when it does, I will be the last one standing.”

  “How arrogant,” said the Avian Goddess, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What makes you think you will win?”

  Uron's eyes flickered up toward the sky. “Why ruin the surprise? You will all learn soon enough … learn, and tremble.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We killed a goddess. We killed a goddess. We killed an actual goddess.”

  “Shut up.”

  “We killed a goddess.”

  “What did I say about shutting up?”

  “We killed a goddess.”

  Halfway up the stairs leading to Bleak Rock's exit, Durima stopped and turned to face Gujak. Her partner, who still had some of the Spider Goddess's sticky webbing trailing along behind his feet, was staring at the gauntlet attached to his hand as if it was some kind of terrible infection that had no known cure. For once, Durima agreed with his feelings, as the gauntlet (God-killer, as the writing had said) was a dangerous weapon that no one should have.

  Even so, Durima grabbed Gujak's face and forced him to look at her. It was much harder to do than she thought. Gujak's eyes were practically glued to the gauntlet, like he thought it was going to stab him in the back if he took his eyes off it for even a second. Granted, that might not have been an entirely unreasonable fear, considering what that evil thing was capable of, but Durima still managed to get him to look her in the eyes.

  “Gujak, I know,” said Durima, speaking fast and low. “I know we killed a goddess. I know we did something no one besides the gods themselves is even supposed to be able to do. I know that we committed an unthinkable and unforgivable crime against the gods themselves. I know we have probably invited the wrath of every god from World's End to the Great Berg down upon us. But whining about it won't do us any good. We need action. If we move fast, we might be able to ward off the worst of what is to come.”

  “How?” said Gujak. His lips trembled like he was about to cry. “I don't even know what the punishment for killing a goddess is supposed to be. I don't think there even is an official punishment, considering no one has ever done this before. Do you think the Council or the gods will make up a gruesome execution method just for us?”

  “Not if we act fast,” said Durima. “Listen, Master wanted us to get this gauntlet for him. If we bring it to Master, who should be at North Academy at the moment, and explain the accident, maybe he will be able to defend us from the other gods.”

  “Durima, do you honestly believe that?” said Gujak with a sniffle. “You know how Master feels about us. I don't think he'll hesitate to throw us into the Void if it meant he would avoid getting into trouble.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?” said Durima. She pointed at the stairs under their feet. “We stay here, the gods find us and kill us. I know Master doesn't really care about or like us much, but he's our only chance at survival here. Unless you want to die, but I don't, obviously.”

  “I don't want to die, either,” said Gujak. “It's just … I can't even begin to describe how horrible this makes me feel. All my life, I've always striven to serve and follow the gods as best as I can, but now … oh, I am a murderer of the gods. Murderer of the gods, Durima. Do you understand how serious that is?”

  “I understand it perfectly,” said Durima. “Probably even better than you, actually.”

  “Then why aren't you freaking out like I am?” said Gujak. “You're so calm and collected and it just doesn't seem appropriate for an accomplice to a god-killer like me.”

  Durima shuddered when she thought about how the Spider Goddess had died. But she gave Gujak a hard look directly in the eyes, which was the only way she knew how to calm people who needed it.

  “It's a lesson I learned in the War,” said Durima. “Panicky soldiers got killed. Calm ones survived. Same principle here. We panic, we die. We keep calm and maybe we'll live.”

  “Maybe?” Gujak repeated in horror. “Durima, we have to turn ourselves in. At least, I should turn myself into the Katabans Council. I deserve whatever punishment they decide to give me.”

  Durima growled. “The Council? Those pompous idiots aren't worth even turning yourself into. We need to get to Master. He's our only hope at this point.”

  Gujak slapped Durima's hands off his face and took a step back. “Sorry, Durima, but I … I disagree.”

  “You disagree?” said Durima. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

  “I'm listening to my conscience,” said Gujak with a gulp. He looked so terrified, yet despite that he continue to talk to Durima like he was braver than he looked. “And my conscience says that I should turn myself in and accept the consequences for my actions, like a good servant of the gods would.”

  Durima sighed in exasperation. Gujak
had always been more of a goody-two shoes, by the book kind of katabans than her, but until now she had forgotten just how blindly devoted to the gods that he was.

  “Gujak, the Katabans Council is full of pompous crooks who don't give a damn about the law of the gods,” said Durima. “You know that. You've met them before. They will execute you without a trial because they want to look like they're good for something, rather than being busybodies who don't have any right bossing the rest of us katabans around.”

  “I don't care,” said Gujak. “That's just your opinion. I'm going to the Council and there's nothing you can do to—”

  Durima punched Gujak in the face as hard as she could. The blow sent Gujak falling backwards, but before he could fall down the stairs, Durima caught him and pulled him up. He was completely unconscious, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. A dent shaped like her fist was on his wooden head, but other than that, he didn't have any other serious injuries.

  Good, Durima thought. I need him in one piece if we're going to go to Master and ask for his help.

  Slinging the unconscious Gujak over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Durima dashed up the stairs as fast as she could, taking them two at a time, heedless of the danger of slipping on a wet step. There was no time to waste worrying about that when there were far worse consequences awaiting both of them if she failed to find Master quickly.

  Thankfully, the Spider Goddess apparently lived alone, because Durima did not run into any servants or minions that might have served her while she lived. Of course, they probably would have run away the minute they felt the Spider Goddess's death, which made sense, as there was no way the death of a goddess could be ignored by any katabans for long.

  In fact, as Durima reached the top of the staircase and emerged into the narrow hallway from before, she found it odd that the gods had not yet struck her and Gujak down. They had killed a goddess, and yet they had lived for longer than five seconds.

  Either the gods don't know that she's dead or they're dealing with something else, Durima thought, running down the hallway back toward the slide. Then again, maybe they're too afraid of Bleak Rock to investigate what happened. Maybe they're waiting for us to leave the island before they'll try anything.

  That thought probably should have sapped her motivation to leave Bleak Rock, but if anything, it gave her greater motivation to leave as soon as possible and find Master. She just hoped that she was fast enough to use the ethereal to get from Bleak Rock to North Academy; not a terribly difficult distance to travel, given the way space/time worked in the ethereal, but hardly a simple five minute stroll through the woods, either.

  The last obstacle between her, Gujak, and freedom was the slide they had taken down into Bleak Rock in the first place. It was still very dark, almost pitch-black now that Gujak was not conscious enough to use his light, which forced Durima to use her own luminimancy to allow her to see the entrance at the very top of the slide.

  Yet even that wasn't as big of a problem as it could have been. Durima tensed her back legs, gathering all of the strength that she could, and launched herself and Gujak through the air toward the opening. She expected to hit her head against the ceiling, but it must have been much higher than she thought, because despite how high and far she jumped, her head never hit anything.

  She landed hard on the top of the slide, almost lost her balance due to Gujak's weight, but soon recovered and dashed outside to the exterior of Bleak Rock.

  As soon as she did, a wave of sleet fell into her face. The abruptness of the ice cold sleet was shocking, causing her to try to come to a halt. Unfortunately, the ground was slippery beneath her feet, sending her sliding across the layer of sleet on the ground all the way to the edge of the cliff.

  Durima tried to stop, but she was going too fast. In an instant, she went off the side of the cliff and fell toward the ocean waters below. Or she would have, if she hadn't reached out with her free claw and dug it as deeply as she could into the side of the cliff.

  Even then, she only succeeded in slowing their descent. Her claw tore through the rock as they descended, sending dust and dirt into her eyes, until it finally caught on something too thick for it to cut through, thus stopping them abruptly about halfway down.

  Panting, blinking her eyes to get the dust out of them, Durima looked down below at the crashing waves that beat against the island's base. She then looked at Gujak, who despite the fall wasn't even stirring, which was good because knowing Gujak, he would be freaking out if he was awake at the moment.

  Then Durima looked up at the sky. Although it was quite dark due to it being night time, Durima could tell that the sky was completely covered with dark storm clouds that poured sleet. Being so close up against the island, Durima and Gujak managed to avoid the worst of it; nonetheless, Durima could feel her fur getting cold and wet as the sleet fell from the sky by the bucketful.

  That's why I lost my footing and slid off the cliff, Durima realized. It must have been sleeting hard for several minutes before we even got out of Bleak Rock. But why …?

  The answer came to her immediately: The Spider Goddess had also been the Goddess of Sleet. Without her around to control the sleet, it was no wonder that the weather around Bleak Rock was going insane. This was probably a temporary affair, as Skimif would no doubt take control of the Spider Goddess's domains soon enough. Even so, if the other gods had not sensed their sister's death earlier, then surely they would notice the uncontrollable sleet that was pounding the seas and conclude that something was amiss.

  Which just gives me extra motivation to get the hell out of here, Durima thought.

  Entering the ethereal from their current position would be difficult, dangerous even, but not impossible. Once, during the Katabans War, Durima had jumped off a tall cliff to evade capture from enemy soldiers and had fallen into the ethereal right before hitting the ground at the base of the cliff. It was not something she had done in years, but she figured she could do it.

  I have to do it again, Durima thought, glancing at the roaring waves below. I don't have much of a choice.

  After making sure that Gujak was still hanging safely over her shoulder, Durima focused on a spot just below them. She didn't see why she couldn't open the ethereal here; however, it could be difficult sometimes to predict where a portal to the ethereal, opened in the air, would take you. Sometimes, if you did it wrong, you could end up on the other side of the world, although that kind of mistake was usually only made by young katabans who weren't familiar with ethereal travel.

  The hardest part was letting go of the cliff to fall into the portal that would open and catch her. Despite the pressure on her claw, the heavy sleet, and Gujak's own weight, Durima's instincts forced her to hold on as long as possible. That was probably because she couldn't see the portal yet, only the terrifying, violent waves that beat against the base of the island like an army battering down the door of an enemy fortress.

  Another reason to hate physical bodies, Durima thought with a scowl. Dumb instincts that aren't based in reason or evidence or facts. They only care about the appearances of things, not the actual nature of—

  Without warning, the rock that she had hooked her claw around broke. Panic rising in her chest, Durima could not help but scream as she and Gujak fell toward the loud ocean waves below, which continued to bash at the island's base even more violently than before.

  But they didn't fall into the ocean. Instead, a portal opened up between them and the sea and it was that portal they fell into. As they passed through, the world around them became dark and silent, the only sounds being Durima's screams as they became lost in the dark void between Martir and the ethereal.

  Then everything slowly came back into view and Durima landed hard on the shining white road that was the ethereal. The fall took her breath away, but she recovered quickly enough. She floated back to an upright position and, without taking even a moment to think about it, immediately flew down in the direction that she knew would ta
ke her to North Academy.

  She flew as fast as she could, past dozens of other katabans traveling along the ethereal. No one tried to stop her, but she got several odd looks from most of the katabans she passed. No doubt they noticed Gujak hanging unconscious over her shoulder, but hopefully they would assume that he was injured and she, as his kind and caring friend, was trying to get him to a doctor or healer as fast as she could.

  Of course, the main reason for her speed was because she didn't want the others to know about what she and Gujak had just gotten away with. She didn't sense any fear or unexplainable terror in the other katabans, which maybe meant they didn't even know the Spider Goddess was dead yet.

  They'll know soon enough, Durima thought. And when they do, they'll stop at nothing to tear us apart.

  One of the useful advantages of the ethereal was the way in which space/time worked. Whereas a journey from Bleak Rock to North Academy in Martir would take, depending on your speed and method of travel, anywhere from several weeks to several months, in the ethereal, the same journey would only take perhaps fifteen minutes. And that was if you were an inexperienced ethereal traveler who didn't even know about all of the shortcuts you could take.

  Durima was no inexperienced ethereal traveler. She veered to the left, imagining another portal, but rather than a portal that opened up to another part of Martir, it was a portal that would take her to another part of the ethereal, closer to where she could get off at North Academy. It was a tricky move, but not terribly difficult after some practice.

  Then that portal appeared before her and she jumped into it. Unlike traveling between Martir and the ethereal, this 'inter-ethereal travel,' as it known among katabans, had no real transitioning sequence.

  One moment, she was on the right side of the ethereal; the next, she found herself floating on the left side. It was difficult to tell, of course, due to lack of said transitioning sequence, but certain clues—such as the position of the stars in the sky above, which resembled North Academy—told her that she was indeed close to where she had to be.