by M. M. Whan
Eferath’s mind worked furiously as the full weight of his actions came to bear. Now there was a room full of angry, heavily armed and armoured soldiers, and one incredibly powerful wizard. He quickly looked around the room, even as he felt a peculiar tingling in the air that could mean only one thing.
Lethaniel was casting.
Eferath spotted his salvation in the form of the broken window nearby, but before he could make a break for it, the guards were on him. Metal on diamond cried out furiously as Eferath desperately parried and knocked away each attack. Blades slashed in too fast for him to even think about countering, and these were veteran soldiers all. Eferath felt the skin at the nape of his neck prickle, and the guards between him and Lethaniel suddenly parted way.
Eferath’s eyes widened in horror as the buildup of energy suddenly flared up. The young man did the only thing he could do and raced for the broken window. He would have made it, too, if his sudden movement had caused the barest amount of hesitation in Lethaniel’s cast.
It didn’t.
Eferath spun around, casting a protective shield in the nick of time. He had no idea what struck him, but he felt his legs lift off the ground and he was flying out the window.
Eferath could only watch as the ground rushed up to meet him.
Chapter 13
There was a small tree at the base of the wall below the window Eferath was blasted out of. Desperately, he grabbed at it, clutching for something, anything he could hold onto as he plummeted. If his attempts slowed his descent at all, Eferath didn’t notice. He came down hard on the chair Dorien had thrown through the window. It shattered between his weight and the force of the fall, and Eferath was certain he felt some ribs crack. As luck would have it, most of his weight landed on his right shoulder, and not his injured one, but Eferath didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. While he was on his back he spotted several heads poking out of the window, pointing and shouting at him as he lay there. Eferath saw Lethaniel look down at him and he knew it was time to go.
Eferath rolled to his feet, clenching his teeth against the pain that washed over his body, even as his adrenaline surged. With all of the effort he could muster, Eferath dashed forward on legs that would barely support him, sparing the time to look back over his shoulder.
He immediately regretted it.
A sphere of blazing fire seared the air from up high, impacting the exact spot he had just occupied mere moments before, and detonated violently. The force of the explosion sent Eferath stumbling, even as every window in the courtyard shattered with the force of the blast. Eferath tucked into a roll and came out running, smoke billowing around him, the smell of singed hair and clothes filling his nostrils. Panic was setting in as the young man looked frantically around for something, anything that would get him out of this mess.
Shouts of alarm, and cries of “get him!” and “he went that way!” filled the air, and followed on his heels as he made a mad dash to escape. He ducked down alleys, through buildings and their windows, but still the pursuit was dogged. It was dark and Eferath had no idea where he was, or even whether or not he was traveling in the right direction. All that he knew was that he needed to get as far away from the palace as possible.
Bells chimed, and torches were lit, bathing nearly every surface in light. Magicians added their magic to the search as well, casting bright orbs of light that hung high in the air. During the very brief moments that Eferath had to traverse an open area, he was spotted almost instantly, and a hail of arrows snapped and clacked off the stone and brickwork buildings all around him.
Eferath dashed left down one alley, then right, then left again, not even sure whether or not he was even making progress, or whether he was just running in a circle. Whatever was happening, Eferath hoped he would get a break soon as an inescapable feeling of dread threatened to overwhelm him. It felt as if there was a rope around his neck and it was tightening.
The thought barely had time to run its course before the buildings suddenly opened up, and Eferath could see the looming barrier that was the wall separating the nobles from the commoners. He paused for a moment, leaning heavily against the alley wall of the last building and sucked in burning lung fulls of air. He was exhausted and his legs felt like jelly and he trembled from head to toe. There was a lot of open ground for him to cover. Thanks to the mage’s magic, he could see just how far he had to go. It was at that moment that he realized that he had no idea what he would do once he reached the wall. There was only one way in, and that way would undoubtedly be locked down by a small army.
Suddenly, Eferath felt the hair rise up on his neck and he shot a look behind him. A robed figure was just rounding the corner, both hands alight with fire magic. Eferath didn’t wait until he made eye contact, he was pumping his legs for all they were worth, surging for the rocky and uneven landscape separating the wall from the nobles. A fireball sizzled past Eferath’s cheek and exploded with tremendous force at least a hundred feet in front, and below him. Eferath felt a nagging sense that the other one would strike true, and dived behind a small pile of boulders.
A terrific bang! split the air, terrifying Eferath who hugged his knees and covered his head as stones and shards pummeled and pierced him. He was on his feet the moment the heat receded, even though his ears rang like wind chimes in a hurricane. He felt warm blood trickle down his neck from his ears, and he hobbled unsteadily, desperately clinging to balance.
In his stupor he neglected to care where he placed his feet, and as such he fell over the edge of a rise. He hit the ground and the impact blasted the air out of his lungs, and nearly swooned when a fresh wave of his injuries washed over him. All he wanted to do at that moment was to curl up into a ball, and surrender to the warm, fuzzy existence that enveloped him, coaxed him. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
A moment later, he didn’t have to. He felt something ensnare him and lift him into the air. His many injuries shrieked in protest, but he didn’t cry out. He slowly opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of a young man, not much older than he, his face a picture of pure contempt. The young mage outstretched his hand toward him, then slowly spun it as if he were flipping through the pages of a book, and Eferath’s body spun in the air with each stroke. Eferath struggled against the invisible bonds with everything he could muster, but he might have had better luck teaching a rock how to swim.
“Oh, do not try to break free Eferath,” the young man said, and in his voice Eferath thought he heard familiarity, and though his face looked slightly familiar, Eferath couldn’t place how.
“Release me!” Eferath hissed through clenched teeth. “Dorien, he’s mad! He has slain the king!”
An invisible force suddenly tightened around his body and squeezed. Eferath tried to take a breath but it wouldn’t come. “Be silent!” The young mage growled, and he started closing his hand to accentuate his words. Eferath the pressure increase, and felt the pops as several more ribs cracked under the strain. “I will not listen to the words of a traitor!”
“I… didn… kuh… a..b..dy…” Eferath managed to grunt out. “Duh…reeeen… kuhrr… th… kng!” Eferath’s vision bruised, and stars and coloured spots exploded like fireworks before his eyes. But even amidst all of that, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of doubt cross the young man’s face.
Instantly the invisible crushing force released him, and Eferath fell several feet to the hard, stony ground where he gasped in air as quickly as his broken and cracked ribs would allow. Slowly, Eferath looked up at the man and saw uncertainty.
“Tell me what you know, and be quick about it! May that your words grant you a quick death in time.” But before Eferath could say a word a trio of mages appeared with a deafening crack!
Eferath struggled to raise himself up to his hands and knees, and his eyes met those of Lethaniel’s. Quickly Eferath thought of any spell he could use, anything during his training that would aid him but it was in vain. Even if he was able to
conjure something to aid in his defense, Lethaniel was renowned as the most powerful mage in the realm. What could he possibly do to protect himself from that kind of power?
“You gave us quite a chase, Eferath.” Lethaniel said in his cool, deep voice. Eferath said nothing. He didn’t have to. The expression on his face spoke volumes. “Oh, you are upset that you are caught? That is just too bad. Go on…” Lethaniel continued as he noticed Eferath’s glare, then smiled invitingly. “Take your best shot.”
For a brief, fleeting moment Eferath almost took the old man up on his offer, but good sense won out over that impulse. He was stuck, well and truly, and there was literally nothing he could do about it.
“I wouldn’t be acting so smug, if I were you.” Eferath blustered. If he was going to die, at least he would go down fighting. “Without your magic I could break every bone in your body, and do so with a smile.”
The smile quickly faded off Lethaniel’s face and it reddened. “Mind your tongue, boy. You are a traitor and a murderer, I have the authority to obliterate you where you stand. Do not tempt me.” That made Eferath smile. It was dangerous to provoke him, he knew, but it felt good at the moment.
“If you truly had that power, you would not need permission like some pathetic lapdog. You know who killed the king, mage!” An invisible force slammed into Eferath’s body, throwing him backward to crash against the cliff wall behind him.
“Lethaniel!” The young mage interrupted, even as the master magician began to cast. “Is it the truth that he speaks?” Eferath glanced over at the youth, and knew that every moment Lethaniel was distracted was another moment toward his salvation.
“You are a fool if you believe this traitor Mackan! Why would he run and try to escape if he was falsely accused? And you…” Lethaniel said, returning his attention back to Eferath. “You keep trying to shift the blame, and not only will your soul be condemned, but also those of those you love!”
That threat sobered him, and trapped his next words in his throat. Eferath narrowed his eyes dangerously. Threaten him, kill him, but do not threaten to harm his family.
“Why would he lie?” Mackan asked, and even Eferath could hear the suspicious edge to the young mage’s voice. “If what you say is true, then he should stand tri-“ His words caught in his throat as Lethaniel turned on him fiercely and unleashed a bolt of pure energy that ripped through Mackan’s chest and sent him hurtling backward a dozen feet, quite dead.
Eferath closed his eyes, rage flooded through him, and he felt a persistent tugging, as if his very consciousness was being pulled down below the surface of a lake. He fought back, but his efforts were wasted as the darkness swelled inside him. He felt his mouth moving, and observed Lethaniel’s contemptuous smirk through darkened vision. A smirk that quickly disappeared, though, as the spell continued and Lethaniel discovered its purpose.
“Do it, now!” Lethaniel roared at his companions, and the foursome began casting spells of their own. They unleashed their powerful magics, intending to incapacitate, or kill Eferath as quickly as possible. A bright blue flash erupted in the blackness of night, chasing away shadows and critters alike.
It was a shield, Eferath noticed with genuine surprise; one far more powerful than any he could conjure during his studies. It was nearly invisible, glowed bright blue, and looked to be paper thin. Regardless of how sheer it seemed, the powerful combined magics of the four spellcasters merely caused deep ripples to pass over its diaphanous surface. Again, Eferath felt his lips moving, his skin tingling, and heard the air buzzing with power. Thin cracks began to spider web along the surface of the shield as Lethaniel and his companions redoubled their efforts.
Thin ribbons of electricity snapped and flickered into brief existence, carving trenches into solid stone. A great wind kicked up from the release of such powerful magic but still Eferath’s mouth moved in a chant. To Eferath, it felt as though he was nothing more than a spectator in his own body. That something else had taken complete control over him and willed his body to do its bidding. Fear gripped him, then, fear and desperation. As much as he didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die without a soul, either.
The slight buzz turned into a crystalline hum. One that filled the air, and sounded as though a thousand crystal glasses were being lightly tapped. The humming built rapidly into a crescendo, and even as Lethaniel and his cronies hurled their final spells at Eferath’s weakened and brittle barrier, and deafening crack! split the air and the only thing that told that Eferath was even there was the charred and melted rock in a perfect circle around where he had been standing.
Eferath was gone.
* * * *
Dorien sat at his desk surrounded by nobles and advisors who fawned over him, and offered their well-wishes, and generally sucked up in anticipation of what surely would be a power vacuum. Dorien did his best to pretend that he cared, he even offered vague assurances to those he found the least annoying, and did his best to play the bereaved brother who had just suffered a tragic loss. Ironic, that. It was harder to put up a front and be believable than it was to plan the assassination of his brother, the king.
“I wish to know the status of my guards.” Dorien said, interrupting the overlapping voices as much for his own sanity as genuine curiosity. “Have they found the man responsible for my brother’s…” He cut himself off there, feigning a sob in his throat as if he could not continue speaking, and bringing a hand to cover his face.
Immediately, posturing nobles and military officers barked orders at once, demanding instantaneous answers from poor servants who had no idea what was going on. Dorien suppressed a grin with great effort. So, this is what it is going to be like? He could get used to that.
The door to Dorien’s office crashed open, smacking hard against the stone wall on its hinges, then hung lopsided on the only surviving hinge. Lethaniel stormed in immediately behind it. His normally immaculate appearance marred by fatigue, dirt, and soot. He looked positively furious.
“He escaped!” Lethaniel bellowed, his fury caused his power to flutter parchment and candles alike. “I had him in my grasp and he teleported away!”
Dorien dismissed his party with a gesture and waited for them to all leave. While they filed out of the ruined door, Dorien just sat there glaring at Lethaniel, his face showing no emotion. The last person to leave the room closed the door behind him, taking a frustrating amount of time to awkwardly shut the damaged door.
“You let him escape?” Dorien shouted, each word launching spittle, and his face turned crimson. “You had but one task to do, and you couldn’t even kill a boy!”
“He has power in him!” Lethaniel said. “I felt it! It was enormous, like a lake with an unfathomable depth!”
Dorien sat back heavily into his chair. “Then why did you return to me? You must find him Lethaniel, find him and kill him before he speaks of the truth to anyone, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, my king, it is just that… Well I do not know where to look.” Lethaniel said, a lot of his previous anger subdued.
Dorien looked at him as if the old mage had suddenly become addled. “What do you mean you do not know where to look? He will go to his father. Eralon is one of very few people with enough influence to cause significant problems to our plans.”
Lethaniel was already shaking his head. “No, your majesty.” He said, then hastily pushed on as Dorien quirked an eyebrow, no doubt preparing to say “one does not say no to a king” or the like. “Everything I have heard from Eferath’s instructors, plus his actions during the academy patrol, well sir, I do not believe Eferath to be that stupid. By all indications he is very intelligent and resourceful. I suspect that he would undoubtedly know that his home town would be the first place that we look and avoid it at all costs. He would not bring harm or risk upon his family, my king.”
Dorien leaned back in his chair for a long moment, considering the words of the wise mage carefully. Lethaniel was right, he knew. Ef
erath was very resourceful, and a brilliant tactician. Being branded as a traitor would no doubt limit his options, and Dorien agreed that Eferath would not risk the lives of his family.
“Very well. So how do we find him, then?”
Chapter 14
“Why are you here?” Syline demanded harshly as she opened the door to her quarters and saw none other than Lethaniel standing there. To say that he was looking worse for wear would have been an understatement, but she was the last person to care about his wellbeing. She had never liked Lethaniel. The old mage was always watching her, always looking at her with a forlorn lover’s expression. Some women would have been flattered by the attention, but Syline was not one of those women.
“I am here because our king has ordered me to be here.” Lethaniel replied in a smooth, casual tone, a slow smile creeping its way across his aged face. Syline had to try her best to avoid shuddering at the way the old wizard’s cold eyes bored into her. His expression and his eyes gave him the sense that he was somehow looking through her armour. That thought made her want to shudder again, or at the very least cover herself up.
“I had heard about the assassination attempt at the castle. Is Terryn all right?” She asked calmly, unassuming. She knew very well what had happened, because she had helped plan it. Though she wasn’t present to see it through to its conclusion, any plan devised by her was bound to succeed. When Lethaniel just looked at her, she assumed that he had come to the same conclusion and knew she was being obtuse for the sake of it.
“And Eferath?”
“Escaped.” Lethaniel answered unexpectedly. Also unexpected was the bitter anger Syline could hear in his voice. She almost leaped for joy at hearing that, if for no other reason than to put a burr in Lethaniel’s britches than anything else. Syline had never completely accepted her role in Eferath being framed as an assassin, and summarily executed. She had noticed some incredible potential in that young man. Potential that surely made Dorien jealous considering his old rivalries with that one’s father. There was something different about Eferath, though. She hesitated to say special, but her thoughts were certainly edging that way. It didn’t quite sit well with her what they were about to do but she couldn’t figure out why that was. To learn that he had escaped nearly made her smile.
