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

by Timothy L. Cerepaka

  But the longer she watched, the more likely it seemed that Uron was down for good. She couldn't sense Uron's energy level, but considering that he was not a god, katabans, or mage, perhaps that had something to do with it.

  Just then, she heard someone running over to her. She looked to her right and saw that it was that human mage from earlier, the one she had heard Uron call Darek Takren. With the gods' attention on Uron's crater, she wondered why he was coming over to them.

  He's going to attack us, Durima realized. He probably knows that we broke into North Academy last week. He's taking advantage of the Avian Goddess's battle with Uron to take me and Gujak out.

  She readied herself for a fight, but as Darek drew closer, the look on his face was less angry and more concerned. He was looking at Gujak, who lay as unconscious as always at Durima's feet.

  Darek stopped only a couple of feet from them. His eyes were bloodshot and his robes were splattered with dirt, but he genuinely didn't seem threatening to Durima. If anything, he looked concerned, perhaps for Gujak's health, based on the way he was looking at her unconscious partner.

  “How is he?” said Darek. He spoke in a low voice, like he was afraid of disturbing the gods' attention. “Why isn't he bleeding?”

  Durima, taken aback by his questions, nonetheless answered, “He took on a wooden body when he became a physical being, so he doesn't have any blood to spill.”

  Darek looked at her with an incomprehensible look on his face, which made Durima think he was stupid until she remembered that none of the human mages, except for the Magical Superior, could understand Godly Divina, the language most katabans spoke.

  Some education they give their students here, Durima thought.

  Before she could figure out how to communicate in a way that Darek would understand, a low groaning sound came from the crater that Uron had made. It sounded like Uron was in terrible pain, causing Durima to flashback to the War, when she had heard some of her fellow soldiers groaning—usually screaming—in pain as they died. She cut the flashback short, however, because she didn't want to be distracted in such a tense situation.

  “Oh, you survived?” said the Avian Goddess in a mocking voice. “But I guess that makes sense. You are, after all, the great Uron. Of course a wee little birdie like me couldn't kill you. Still, I hope I crippled you for life, you bastard.”

  There was no response to that, as Uron had ceased groaning in pain. A hushed silence fell across the graveyard, making Durima feel like they were at a funeral instead of at the battle for Martir itself.

  What happened next was so abrupt and sudden that Durima wasn't even sure it had happened. Uron leaped out of the crater as fast as a lightning bolt. His purplish-black form, little more than a fast-moving blur, cut through the air like a tiger.

  The Avian Goddess only had enough time to caw in surprise before Uron landed in front of her and grabbed her neck with the God-killer. He whirled around to face the other gods, holding the flailing Avian Goddess before him like a captured bird.

  “Behold,” said Uron. His skin was cut in several places, allowing a strange blue liquid that might have been blood to bleed out. “This is the fate that befalls all of the gods of Martir, both strong and weak.”

  Durima knew what was going to happen next, but that didn't stop her from feeling horrified and disgusted as the Avian Goddess's body slowly turned to dust. The Avian Goddess beat her powerful wings against Uron's body as hard as she could, but he didn't even flinch under her ferocious attack. He just stood there, smiling, watching as the disintegrating effect slowly made its way up from the Avian Goddess's feet to her neck.

  This time, the disintegrating effect seemed to happen faster than when it had with the Spider Goddess. In a minute, perhaps less, the Avian Goddess's head disintegrated, leaving nothing more than a pile of brown dust in Uron's hand, which he dropped onto the dust at his feet.

  As soon as the remains of the Avian Goddess settled, the other gods fled. The Tusked God disappeared deep into the mist, Nimiko vanished in a flash of light, and every other god or goddess who had been present vanished in their particular way. Not a single one stopped to explain where they were going or if they were going to return. They just ran like a nest of frightened mice from a hungry cat.

  In even less time than it took for the Avian Goddess to die, almost all of the fifty or so deities who had been present to save Martir were gone. Only Skimif and the Ghostly God remained, and the Ghostly God was still unconscious and so in no condition to help.

  Uron licked some of the Avian Goddess's dust off his hand and grimaced. “Tastes like dirt. I thought it would taste like chicken.”

  “Where did the other gods go?” said Darek, looking around wildly. “Lord Skimif, is this part of your plan?”

  Skimif sighed. “No, it's not. They ran away because they were afraid of Uron, or perhaps more accurately, they were afraid of the God-killer.”

  Darek's shoulders slumped. “So they're not coming back?”

  “Unlikely,” said Skimif. He put a hand on his heart. “It took all of my willpower not to join them. The God-killer frightens me as much as it does them. I can only guess where they all might have run off to in order to escape it.”

  “It doesn't matter where they run or where they hide,” said Uron as he dusted off the God-killer. “I will find and kill every one of them personally. It is the only way to pave the way for the return of my home.”

  Durima considered their current situation. It was her, one human mage who was still in school, the Magical Superior (who, based on the way he was lying, was clearly too weak to even stand), Skimif, Gujak, and the Ghostly God.

  Six, Durima thought. Actually, the Superior, Gujak, and Master are down for the count. So that's three: The most powerful god in the world, a student mage, and me. Against the only being in the world who can kill a god and isn't afraid of us in the slightest. And technically, the only one of us who is even capable of harming Uron is Skimif, so that brings down our total number of fighters to one.

  “Granted,” Uron continued, “it will be tough to track down every last one, but in the end, it will be worth it. All I need to do first is kill you, Skimif, and then go and hunt down the rest of your fellow deities.”

  Skimif took a step forward. “Why do you think you'll be able to defeat me?”

  “Are you really that dense?” said Uron. He held up the God-killer. “This is why I know I will defeat you, Skimif, but not just defeat you. I will kill you, annihilate you from this world. Without your governing presence, the gods will become even more fractured than they are now, which will make it easier to pick them off one by one.”

  “You won't win,” said Skimif, who sounded far more confident than the situation warranted, in Durima's opinion. “I won't let you. I saved this world from one apocalypse. I will not let it be destroyed by another.”

  “Brave words, coming from someone who will crumple to dust as soon as I touch them,” said Uron. “But why do we wast time talking? Let us fight. And once the dust settles, only one of us shall be left standing.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Seeing all of those gods run away had shaken Darek more than he'd like to admit. He had had hope earlier that Skimif, along with his cohort of fifty gods and goddesses, would be able to defeat Uron and that their world might survive after all.

  Now, however, Darek was beginning to think that maybe their chances of survival were lower than zero. He was glad Skimif was willing to fight (despite not being sure where Skimif's confidence came from, considering that Uron had just killed a goddess right in front of their eyes), but he only had one concern now: Getting the heck out of the graveyard before Uron killed them all.

  Skimif and Uron had taken their battle into the mist. Darek saw flashes of explosive energy in the mist, heard both of them yelling and screaming at each other, and felt huge spikes of energy every time one of them attacked the other. Granted, most of the energy spikes belonged to Skimif, but Darek could still se
nse Uron, although it was much harder to do because of Uron's otherworldly nature.

  Of course, this was exactly why Darek was going to get himself and the Magical Superior out of here. He hoped to get the Superior back to the Arcanium, where they could wake all of the teachers and students and evacuate the whole school. It was a sad thought, abandoning North Academy, but with no guarantee that Skimif would win this fight, Darek felt it was a necessary measure that the Magical Superior would no doubt agree with if he were conscious.

  As for the two katabans, Durima and Gujak, Darek tried to communicate to them that he was going to leave the graveyard, but his inability to speak Godly Divina made it nearly impossible to let them know. He wanted to heal Gujak, whose bloodless stump concerned him greatly, but he wasn't sure that Durima would let him.

  I'm not a very good panamancer anyway, Darek thought as he ran to the Magical Superior, who lay on the ground nearby. The katabans probably know how to heal themselves better than I do.

  The Magical Superior looked awful. His robes' rich auburn hue was obscured almost completely by the dirt covering them. Uron's finger marks were visible in his neck thanks to the light that Darek conjured from the tip of his wand.

  Despite all of that, the Magical Superior was alive. His chest heaved up and down, which meant he was breathing. Darek was surprised that the Superior was still alive, considering how he had taken a blast that had knocked out a god, but he supposed the headmaster wouldn't be the Magical Superior if he couldn't handle something like that.

  The challenge, then, was in waking the Magical Superior and getting him out of the graveyard while avoiding Skimif and Uron's fight. Behind him, it sounded like two hurricanes were fighting each other or, based on the sounds of tombstones being blasted to bits, perhaps it was two earthquakes instead.

  The mental imagery is ridiculous either way, Darek thought as he squatted over the Magical Superior. Even so, I still need to get us out of here. The school depends on us.

  He shook the Magical Superior, but the Superior barely even stirred. Darek considered picking up the Magical Superior and just hauling him out of the graveyard like that, but even the thought of picking up the lightweight Superior was enough to make his bones ache. He himself was still recovering from Uron constricting around his body, not to mention all of the stress that was taking a toll on him.

  Then I'll just lift him using telekinesis, Darek thought, glancing at his wand as he did so. Should be pretty simple. I'll levitate him out of here easy.

  Just as Darek aimed his wand at the Magical Superior, he heard someone running nearby. Looking up, he saw Durima, with Gujak slung over her shoulder like a rolled up carpet, running over to the Ghostly God. She stopped before him, carefully deposited Gujak on the ground, and then began shaking the Ghostly God in an obvious attempt to awaken him.

  Why would she do that? Darek thought in alarm. Doesn't she know how evil he is? He's the only god I wouldn't mind Uron killing, to be honest.

  Much to his surprise, however, the Ghostly God began to stir. He made a loud, strange groaning sound that reminded Darek of a blizzard. Then he slowly sat up, putting one hand on his forehead as he used his other hand for support.

  He recovered rather quickly, because he soon lowered his hand from his head and looked around in confusion. Durima then began rapidly speaking in Godly Divina. The Ghostly God listened, but he didn't move, not even when a particularly big blast of energy from within the mist lit up the whole area like the sun for a brief moment before the light faded.

  By the time Durima finished, the Ghostly God looked incredibly angry. He rose to his full height, his face contorted into a snarl, and he looked directly at Darek.

  Darek immediately aimed his wand at the Ghostly God, despite knowing that there was not a spell in the world he could cast to defeat a god. Still, it was better than doing nothing, in his opinion, because it at least showed he was serious.

  “You,” said the Ghostly God, pointing at Darek. “How is Skimif's battle against Uron going?”

  Darek gulped. “I don't know. They're in the mist and I can't see them.”

  The Ghostly God shook his head. He glanced into the mist as a loud bang noise rattled Darek's jaw. “I must leave. There is no way I can defeat Uron if he has the God-killer, as Durima here just told me. Even though I'd like to take that snake and skin him.”

  Darek was surprised to hear bitterness in the Ghostly God's voice, as if he was angry that he had been betrayed by Uron. Of course, that made sense. The gods certainly weren't above desiring or carrying out revenge, as many of the stories about them attested.

  That was when multiple things suddenly came together in Darek's mind, like the pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place. He looked over his shoulder at the mist, which flashed with a different color every time Skimif or Uron attacked each other, and then looked back at the Ghostly God.

  “Ghostly God,” said Darek. “I have a request I'd like to make of you that I hope you will see fit to honor.”

  The Ghostly God looked at Darek in disbelief. “You do remember that I am a southern god, yes? Which means that I would never even think of honoring any request that a mortal made of me, no matter how small or large?”

  “I know,” said Darek. “And I hate having to ask you, but you're the only god around here, so I had to take a chance.”

  The Ghostly God tapped his chin, almost like he was interested. “I will admit that I admire the fact that you mortals tend to be brave enough to ask even us southern gods for favors. Or perhaps it's stupidity on your part. You mortals aren't exactly known for your intelligence or cleverness among us gods.”

  “It doesn't matter if I'm smart or clever,” said Darek. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I am going to go help Skimif defeat Uron, but in order to do so, I need your help.”

  The Ghostly God frowned. “Durima told me that Uron can kill gods. I hardly think he will have any trouble killing a mortal like yourself, even if you fight alongside Skimif.”

  “I know,” said Darek, nodding. “But right now Skimif and Uron are evenly matched. If I can distract Uron for even just a moment, I might be able to give Skimif the opportunity he needs to land the killing blow.”

  “Definitely stupid,” said the Ghostly God. “Nonetheless, you have piqued my interest. What is your request?”

  Darek put a hand on his chest. “It's simple. As a god, you can grant mortals your protection. The protection is supposed to protect us mortals from other gods and even grant us some of your strength; however, I think it could possibly make me strong enough to take on Uron. I am asking for you to grant me your divine protection as I go into battle.”

  “It's true that even we southern gods can grant mortals protection if we want,” said the Ghostly God. “But in all of my centuries of existence, I have never saw fit to grant any mortal my protection before. You know how we southern gods feel about mortals.”

  “My request isn't finished yet,” said Darek. He pointed at the Magical Superior. “I want your servant, Durima, to take the Magical Superior to the Arcanium and to tell the school faculty and students that they have to get out of here now.”

  Durima looked like she wanted to argue that point, but the Ghostly God held up a hand to silence her even before she spoke. He didn't look pleased by Darek's requests.

  “So you want two things from us,” said the Ghostly God. “My protection and the lives of your fellow students and teachers, essentially. Yet you forget the one rule about asking a god for help: You must offer me something valuable in return.”

  Darek bit his lower lip. What he was about to offer the Ghostly God was something he didn't want to offer him, but considering how serious and urgent the situation was (which he was reminded of every time he heard Skimif roar in pain), he didn't hesitate to speak.

  “In exchange for those two things, I will swear my life to you just as I've sworn my life to Xocion,” said Darek. “Not only that, but I will be your servant for ten years or until you
choose to dismiss my service.”

  He knew that that would get the Ghostly God's attention. The God of Ghosts and Mist began stroking his chin. He had a skeptical look on his face, as if he was looking at the offer from every angle in order to spot any deceit in it. There was none to be found. Darek's offer was genuine, but that didn't mean the Ghostly God would actually take it.

  “That is very interesting,” said the Ghostly God. “But I have already had negative experiences with human servants, particularly human mages. The female who called herself Aorja worked for me and look how well that turned out.”

  Darek shook his head. “Aorja … she was a liar and a deceiver. You couldn't trust her. I'm more honest than she. I'll serve you better than she. I promise.”

  “I admit that it is a tempting offer,” said the Ghostly God. “And I am in dire need of more servants. With Uron's betrayal, Aorja's imprisonment, Gujak being out of commission, and Durima being criminally incompetent, I could use a servant who I could actually trust and rely upon to do my bidding.”

  “But not anything bad,” said Darek. “I won't do a repeat of what you were trying to do here at North Academy if you accept my offer.”

  “Why would I ever repeat this mess?” said the Ghostly God, gesturing at the crater Uron had made earlier during his fight with the Avian Goddess. “Besides, this plan was never really mine in the first place. I now realize Uron was manipulating me the entire time, the bastard, so I doubt I'll ever even consider doing something this ridiculous again.”

  “Good,” said Darek. “So what do you say? Do you accept my offer or not?”

  The Ghostly God was quiet for longer than Darek liked. The sounds of battle between Skimif and Uron were as loud as ever, although that didn't stop Darek from worrying about what would happen if Uron managed to get one blow in on Skimif with the God-killer.

  Finally, the Ghostly God nodded. “Your deal is reasonable. In exchange for ten years of service to me, I will grant you my protection and have Durima here take the Magical Superior back to the Arcanium. She will also alert the rest of the teachers and students about what is going on here so they may have time to evacuate in the event that Skimif is killed by Uron, although I have no idea where in the world they could evacuate to if that happened.”