Oathbreaker, Book 2: The Magus's Tale

by Colin McComb

  I don’t know what those three metal balls were, but I’m not ashamed to admit that they scared me. The way they rose from the case, each as big as my fist, each as reflective as a mirror… and the look of focused joy on your face as they danced under your control.

  I’d never been so close to magic in my life, and those things were alive and menacing. Sure, we’d seen the weapons of the knights and their metal steeds, but those were accepted magic, magic that had been part of the Empire for hundreds of years. This, though, was something new, and it scared us half to death.

  I don’t think you noticed. You were too busy moving those things with pure will until you had ‘em just as you wanted them. Then, as cool as if you were talking about the pigs in a wallow, you said, “Master Underhill, a breath of wind to the north, if you please?”

  Underhill raised his staff, and we felt the power course out from it. A few moments later, a breeze swirled around our legs, carrying the scent of the cattle’s blood to the north. A few moments after that, and the howls started in, from two or three directions at once. More howls than I’d heard that winter, and that chilled my blood even more than the magic that was being done under my eyes. Fifty wolves or more were howling, and they were coming toward us.

  In a few minutes, they came bounding over the small hills, maddened by hunger and drawn by the scent of blood. We braced our pikes and prepared for the worst. Underhill looked at us, said, “Apprentice, there’s no need to draw this out. If you please…?”

  And that’s when you impressed us most. Light shot from your fingers to the balls. They flashed, and the hum grew both louder and deeper. The steel balls began to rotate, flattening out until they were level with the ground, and I could see the lightning arcing between them. And then you sent those spheres hurtling among the wolves.

  It was like watching a slaughter. I don’t know how you did it, of course, but… the spheres flew in their formation among the wolves, flashing lightning and booming thunder, a rainbow of colors in the gore. Their speed was almost faster than the eye could follow, and the wolves were powerless against them. The orbs dove into their bodies, punching holes in heads and guts alike. Flesh seemed no barrier, and that whirling, crackling destruction… By the time the wolves realized death was among them, they were well into the open, and none of their snapping and snarling and howling and, finally, whimpering could save them. Faster than I would have thought, it was over.

  I think the worst part about it was that when you brought the spheres back, they were still perfectly reflective, like they denied their part in the charnel scattered to the north. When you closed your hands, the spheres dropped silently into the valise at your feet. And then they lay quietly, like they’d never moved at all.

  And then your humiliation came.

  “Young man… I…” the speaker said. “You… Magus, I thank you.” He bowed his head, and we guards, we dropped to one knee out of respect for your work.

  Your eyes were wild with embarrassment, and then Underhill said, “It was nothing, a mere demonstration. My apprentice needed practical application. Of course we’re grateful to see that his studies have borne fruit, but his knowledge is still almost purely potential at this point. Now you understand why I say a magus’s apprentice, no matter how ignorant, is the equal of a master of any other trade. This? Too flashy. A true magus does his work with subtlety.”

  I saw how full of hatred your eyes were. He’d insulted you like this before. Underhill didn’t appear to notice, and if he did, he didn’t care that his words hurt you. He became positively expansive on the trek back to town, holding out his knowledge for us to admire, stealing the glory that should have been yours. I tried to tell you that it was yours, and that we knew who the hero of the day was.

  “That was good work back there, lad,” I said.

  “Didn’t you hear? That was nothing,” you said back.

  “I was impressed, anyway. So were my men.”

  The look you gave me before you got your face under control told me that there was only one opinion out here you cared about, and it wasn’t ours. That’s when I realized that Underhill had better make amends or watch his back. But at the time, I didn’t know that I’d help you betray him, I swear.

  “Anyway,” I said, “it was a fine piece of work. Thanks.”

  “Yeah,” you said. “My pleasure.”

  We were silent the rest of the way back. You split from us at the plaza. I went to make a detail to hang the wolves' pelt around the town, as a warning to other wolves.

  Word of your magic spread through the town. We didn’t even add much to the tale. We were proud of you, Alton, very proud of seeing one of ours accomplish this. We were scared, too—you’d gone someplace we could never hope to reach. Still, you must remember how they welcomed you into town the next week, all of them slapping your back and shaking your hand and congratulating you on your magic. You were bashful, embarrassed, and proud, but not nearly as proud as we were of you. You maybe never heard, but your aunt and uncle asked me to tell them that tale at least five times, and their eyes were prouder than I can describe.

  That’s why it hurt us all when, the next week, you came down with that yellowing bruise on your cheek, and you silently passed that note to Greenson the grocer. You left as quietly as you’d come. I don’t know how you managed to avoid the villagers and slip out of town unnoticed, but we couldn’t find a trace of you and lost your track outside town.

  I read the note, of course. Apparently Underhill’d forgotten that most of the villagers couldn’t read or write, so Greenson asked me to read it for him. In case you didn’t read it, here’s what it said:

  Grocer:

  My apprentice requires a greater focus on his studies, and his frequent trips to market are interfering with these studies. In order to eliminate this distraction from his days, I will require a weekly delivery of foods, meats, and drink to the southern road, near the copse across from the old watchtower. We will present payment the week following. These are our requirements; if we require a change, we will notify you in the payment pouch.

  (List follows)

  Well, I’d seen enough masters jealous of their students’ success to figure what was happening. Question was, was Underhill so jealous that he’d ruin his apprentice’s training as well? I didn’t think so—Underhill seemed too proud and too worried about his own reputation to turn out a pupil who wasn’t at the peak of knowledge. Maybe it was something in the magical code. But more likely it was simple professional envy. After all, no matter how difficult Underhill’s work in turning the storm might have been, no one had complimented him on a job well done. His alleged friend Ecclesiast Vlanders wouldn’t stop talking about the “miracle” you’d performed, and if Underhill came into town and Vlanders saw him, the ecclesiast always turned the conversation to your great promise, with hints that maybe Father Church would like to borrow your services.

  We saw less of you, a lot less, in the year 590—possibly only three times. Underhill was working you hard, we figured, but there was some ill feeling that he might be treating you more poorly than necessary. But what could we do about it? We could have given you moral support. We could have given you a kind word. But you were a magus then, in touch with realities where angels and demons hold court (that’s what they say, here in town, you know).

  But even then, I didn’t think it was possible that you could have missed the return of the knights. They came back on the heels of one of our spring storms in 591, riding into town under a grim, gray sky. Mud dripped from their armor and was smeared across their steeds. It looked like there might be some blood in there, too. We knew they were back because they came straight to the Goat’s Beard, and Caltash immediately asked Captain Ghos why they weren’t challenged upon entering our “sphere of influence,” and Ghos said something about not being able to stop men mounted on steel coursers anyway. Caltash fumed all the way up the stairs, and he called Ghos up a few minutes later to demand a briefing on the goings-on in tow
n since they’d been gone.

  The knights, I heard later, had first gone east to Terona, where they stood vigil for King Fannon, and had spent the rest of their time looking for their missing fugitives to the north. They’d gone chasing rumors and dealing with wolves of their own. The trails they followed were dry as bone, and they spent their time away fruitlessly, cold, and many times snowed under. They’d spent time on the borders, putting down brushfire rebellions and raids from states challenging the new king’s power. They’d gone north to Whitsun Abbey to seek help from the gifted of the gods in finding their quarry, but those seers could (or would) tell them nothing.

  In short, the knights were in no mood for uppity citizens, and since it looked like they were planning on staying again—to use us as a base for expeditions to the east, west, and south—we guards spread the word among the villagers and the visitors to keep a low profile near the knights.

  Later spring and summer brought us the usual routine, though the presence of the knights and our warning served to keep the usual level of random violence down. Even the drunks were on their best behavior, for the most part. Despite the king’s servants in town, we kept to our patrols and our occasional forays into the hills and forests—no chance we’d let bootleggers and highwaymen show their faces on our watch, not while we had a reputation to uphold.

  The first time you came back into town, it was midsummer. You strode in from the east, as if Underhill Tower lay that way, moving with a purpose. You walked straight to a pair of knights, and when the woman sneered and opened her mouth to say something to you, you opened your hand and let one of those killing spheres hover between the two of you. It spat blue fire and hummed at her, and she shut her mouth quick. We all wanted to cheer for you.

  It was even better when she visibly swallowed her fear, because until then, none of us realized what it was on her face. And that, I recall, is when she said that Caltash had been promoted to captain over the winter, and when she asked for you and the magus to come to meet him in a week.

  You may not have noticed me when you arrived at the Goat’s Beard because you seemed to be pretty preoccupied. I was in my usual spot by the window. The place was largely empty—too early for the day shift to be in. Since I was working on some of the papers for Captain Ghos, I had the place pretty much to myself, except for a pair of knights guarding the stairs. The sound was good that day—when you got upstairs, I heard Caltash welcoming you. This is pretty much what I heard, and I’m including it so you’ll know what I was thinking. I hope you’ll pardon my memory. I want to dress it up for you so you’ll know how I heard it.

  “Thank you for coming, Magus Underhill, and a welcome to you, Apprentice Underhill. Please be seated.”

  “My apprentice will stand, but I thank you.”

  “Would either of you care for some refreshment? I have spring water here, but I can send for ale, wine, or whiskey. I understand that the selection here is excellent—at least, as excellent as can be in a town this far from anything.”

  “You don’t drink, Captain?” Underhill sounded amused.

  “I believe that you personally warned me against it, Magus.” Caltash’s smiling tone told me that he intended to ignore all but the most obvious insults from Underhill. “No, sir, water and juices, just as you prescribed after our turn in Devilsfoot. But I ask again: Would you care for a drink?”

  “No. Let me be brief, Caltash: we’re in the middle of some important work, and we don’t have long. What do you want?”

  “Very well. You’re aware of the situation in Terona. You’re also aware that Fannon’s youngest didn’t die in that fire.”

  (You can imagine my surprise at this, I’m sure.)

  “…Yes.”

  “You know who took her.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you know that we tracked them as far as this town, though not without some delays as our errant knight cast off the trackers. First he cast away his sword, and then he cast away his courser. The remaining devices, implanted in his body, gave a weaker signal, and we had to waste a significant amount of time finding evidence of their passing. We lost them near here, and that is why we have used this town as our base of operations.”

  “I know all this. Why do you mention it now?”

  “How long ago was it that you participated in an excruciation, Magus Underhill? Have you ever met Sir Pelagir? How exactly is it that we could follow that faint scent here, only to lose it at your doorstep?”

  Silence for a moment, and then: “Are you prosecuting me, Captain?” The sound of a chair pushing back, before Caltash’s voice cut in:

  “Not at all, Magus. Please stay seated. I’m merely trying to establish our shared base of knowledge. I confess that I am not entirely… ah, I see. You think I accuse you of removing the final devices from Sir Pelagir.”

  “A totally unfounded and unsubstantiated accusation, if you do accuse me.”

  “Exactly. Why, we’d have to doubt your commitment to the continuation of the Empire, and of course you’ve shown your dedication through your years of service.”

  “Yes, I have, and I resent that I am under suspicion.” Underhill’s voice was full of bluster. I recognized the tone: a man trying to hide something with an overpowering personality.

  Caltash’s voice in return was placating, and if Underhill hadn’t been so scared he’d have taken affront in being spoken to like this. “As I have said, I am not prosecuting you, Magus Underhill. I asked you here that I might seek your advice.”

  Underhill harrumphed.

  “As you know, these homing devices are not exact, and they can fail unexpectedly. The Archmagus tells me that you were their primary designer. Because of your deep knowledge, we thought you might have an idea of how Pelagir could have removed his without outside intervention. Likewise, we want to know if it’s possible that some accident might have incapacitated them, and, if so, how we might reactivate them.”

  “Do you still have a copy of the logs? I’ll need to study his movements and see if there were extraneous environmental considerations.”

  “Yes. I have a copy of them for you here.”

  “I wish you had come to me sooner. This delay may have cost us everything.”

  “I had hoped,” said Caltash, “that you might choose to come forward of your own accord.”

  Underhill forced a laugh. “We magi are proud.”

  “I shall remember this in the future,” Caltash replied. “I confess that I balked at the notion of approaching you because of the acrimony of our recent reunion. I received word from Terona last week that suggested in the strongest possible terms that I request your aid.” He paused. “Otherwise, I might not have done so. We knights are also proud. Now, I know you’re a busy man, so I thank you.”

  Chairs scraped the floor, and footsteps retreated toward the stairs. They came down together, Caltash and you two magi. They talked of small things, weather and local politics. Caltash and Underhill sounded amused by the doings of the local nobility, as if our baron’s rule had no impact. Well, while they were talking… I don’t know if Underhill noticed it, but I did. It happened when Caltash summoned one of his knights, an older man who had apparently met Underhill before, with a slight jerk of his head. The man came forward immediately and began speaking to Underhill in a low voice, but with a tone of unmistakable urgency, with gestures toward his scarred arm. To my surprise, Underhill showed great interest, and the knight allowed the magus to grab his arm and manipulate his fingers.

  That’s when Caltash turned his attentions to you. You did a fine job of hiding your fear, and I pretended not to notice. I’m going to put his words down again, so you can see how he laid a road into your heart—the road I walked down later.

  “Listen, lad,” said Caltash, “I owe you an apology.”

  “Wh—what?” you said, stuttering some.

  “An apology. Surely you recall that I was prepared to kill you?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was not perso
nal. I had been led to believe that you were another.”

  “I remember.”

  “I was under orders to make an example, you see. I did not—I do not—wish you harm. I want you to know that.”

  I saw you soften, and I knew that Caltash had achieved what he needed to achieve. The captain knew it, too, for he took his arm from your shoulders and said, “I know the Archmagus. I’m sure he would like to know of you, as well. Come and speak to me sometime.”

  This was all Caltash needed. You were—are, in fact—still just a boy, and boys are easy to forgive those who have wronged them, especially if they wrap their lies in clever words and promises of glory. I wanted to warn you then, but what words can an old guardsman give to an ambitious lad? If Caltash’s words had planted the seeds of betrayal that would come later, my silence then and in the next few days watered those seeds, allowed them to grow. I’m trying to tell you now, with this letter, not to trust the lies of the knighthood. Maybe it’ll serve you later. With the grace of the gods, it will.

  By this time Underhill had finished examining the older knight. The man flexed his arm, balled his fist, and nodded his thanks. Underhill turned toward you, but Caltash had moved away moments before, pretending to busy himself with some detail with his men.

  “Come, lad. We’re back to the tower. You’ve some chores to finish before you can return to your schooling.”

  Your grimace was slight but visible, and you walked back out into the sun.

  And I was left with a puzzle.

  I apologize for the length of this letter. I have set it aside many times, writing over the course of weeks. But I feel it important to tell you, and I hope you will forgive me my diversions.

  Caltash had said that he’d received word from Terona a week before. But they’d had no messengers in that time—no birds, no signals, no riders. How did they take orders from Terona? I resolved to find out how they knew what they knew. Could I trust any of my fellows? The knights had been among them, Caltash was a scheming bastard, and there was a good chance that at least one of them had been bought. I would have to make my own plans and rely on myself—not easy for a man of my age and training.