Star Mage (Book 5)

by John Forrester

  “But you were smiling the whole time,” Talis said, and chuckled as Mara rolled her eyes. “Your face had this pretty combination of rage and delight. That’s how I always picture you in my mind.”

  She went suddenly still and stared up at him. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “No,” he said, and paused to watch her face fall in disappointment. “I think you’re beautiful.”

  4. THE TWIN DAGGERS

  Mara felt herself go from heart-broken to heart pounding in an instant. Talis thinks I’m beautiful? They had always teased and flirted with each other, and were incredibly close—especially after their long journeys together—but to hear him tell her that he thought she was beautiful caused her mouth to gape in amazement. He must have noticed her stupid expression for his eyes twinkled mischievously and he let out a nervous laugh.

  “I’m really happy to have you on this journey with me,” Talis said, and paused as his face turned cloudy. “But I’m scared at the same time. A large part of me wanted to heed the Builder’s words and go west with you to the Ursulan Coast. To be honest, I’m pretty confused and uncertain as to what path to take. I’m really not sure what we’re doing here.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” Mara felt her face flush after she was unable to stop herself from blurting out the words. What’s wrong with me that I can’t hold my tongue?

  His face flowered to a broad smile filled with warmth and what Mara hoped was love. Did he feel the same way? “I should have insisted we go west.” He scooped her hands up and she shivered as the heat and electricity danced through her at his touch. “Of course I think you’re beautiful, Mara. You’re more than beautiful, you’re literally everything that is important in my life. I realize that now and I wish I had before we’d agreed to go on this insane journey. I thought the people of Naru and my family were important, and keeping our city safe, but now I know I was really just trying to protect you and our home.”

  “Our home?” She pictured a mansion of their own rising high in the sky next to the temple of the Goddess Nestria, with Talis by his side as they stared east and watched the sun plummet beneath the Nalgoran Desert.

  “Yes, our city and our home, the place we grew up together and where our family and our people live. If that’s destroyed then what else do we have?”

  We have each other, Mara thought, no matter where in this world or another we find ourselves. But she just gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hands, disappointed that he didn’t yet share the same vision as she. Maybe one day he will…

  The night mist fell and sent a cold chill shivering through her. She snuggled into Talis’s arms and he wrapped her with a woolen blanket from his house. The familiar sweet smell of Talis’s skin entered her nostrils and she held her breath, devouring every scent as if at any moment someone might take him away from her. Sleep came soon, and so did the nightmare.

  The wind howled over a putrid plain stained with sulfuric-smelling ash. And graves, and the shambling feet… Hands seized her ankles and started pulling her under the ground as fibers wriggled around her body and searched for her mouth and ears and nostrils to invade and ingest her lifeblood. Talis! She screamed and shouted his name, and begged for him to save her. She spotted him off in the distance and shouted again for help, but he ignored her and sauntered off into the mist with that witch Lenora. His laughing eyes glanced back only once at Mara, and he was gone.

  She found herself yanked down deep into the devouring earth, the hands still squeezing her ankles and tugging her down on the descent into darkness. Loamy soil no longer surrounded her, replaced instead with the cold air of a cavern. Out there in the vastness she sensed a malicious presence lingering in the inky blackness. She waited and waited in a tense, anxious silence, trying to spot the thing that was out there. But nothing ever came and the cold chilled her to the bone until her teeth started chattering.

  “Why did you leave me?” she cried, the betrayal driving deep into her heart. The image of the beautiful and mysterious Lenora appeared in the cave, her laughing, sensuous eyes taunted her. How could Mara ever appeal to Talis the way she could? The stupid expression of lust on his face when he first saw the witch in that inn. He desired her in a way that he’s never desired you before, a voice told her. How can you ever believe that he’ll want you like he wanted her? You lack the figure that boys crave, the voice said, but you can kill them all and keep his affection.

  Princess Minoweth’s green dagger shone eerily in the blackness of the cave, and the blade stabbed over and over again into Lenora’s white neck, causing beautiful bursts of brilliant red to explode and stain the air as if splashing onto a black canvas. You’re missing your dagger, dearest one, the voice scolded, would you like to feel it in your hand once again?

  Mara shook her head and shouted an agonizing “no” over and over, but the more she squirmed and fought the more she felt the power of the dagger blossom once again inside of her. She remembered the sickly strong feeling, the rage and the craving for blood, and the howling fury that seethed through her mind. The power possessed her as it did once before.

  She flipped her eyes open and the brilliance of starlight caused her to wince in pain. Hands that held daggers covered the moons, shielding the blinding light from her face. Why in the name of the gods are there daggers in my hands? Mara found herself whimpering in horror, and she jolted up and glanced around, feeling comforted that Talis snored peacefully beside her, but she found herself terrified at the strange blades in her palms.

  Lifting the daggers to her inspection under the bright light of the moons, her heart pounded inside her chest at recognizing the design. But the dagger was destroyed in Vellia! Here it was, though, and twins this time, twin replicas of Princess Minoweth’s dagger. The feeling of the dagger is the same, and the power stronger! She dropped the daggers and they dug deep into the sandy soil, but eerie green filaments of light still poured through the air and into her palms. How could this be happening? Was she still having a nightmare?

  “Talis,” she hissed, and shook him hesitantly on the shoulder, half expecting him to open demonic eyes to stare at her.

  He stirred groggily and groaned, then sighed and went back to sleep. At least I know I’m not dreaming, she told herself. But that knowledge made everything so much worse. How in the name of the gods did she acquire the daggers? From the nightmare? The voice and the darkness, the Nameless. Did the voice read her mind and cause the creation of the blades?

  She thought of Master Goleth and his words about the Nameless. The Bane of Light, the Unknowable… Were all the practitioners of magic in the Jiserian Empire adherents of the Nameless Master? And farther across the world, even to Darkov, perhaps? How far did his power extend? All the way to Vellia now, with his apprentice Aurellia and his odd, heart-felt reunion with his brother? Was it all a ruse?

  A fear seized her heart. Talis couldn’t find out about the daggers. He would recognize the design and believe the curse returned to her. She had to hide them from him, stash them away deep in her backpack and never let him find them. Why not leave them buried here in the desert, she told herself, and release yourself from the torment of livid power within the daggers.

  So she tried, and stood and separated herself from the blades, testing out distances farther and farther away until a pain grew in her womb and she gasped and collapsed to her knees as a burst of crippling agony surged through her. In quick response she crawled back to the daggers and found the feeling fading away. A low ache and a burn still buzzed in her belly, and she vowed to never again leave the daggers.

  She shoved the blades into her pack and lay back down next to Talis, knowing that sleep would be difficult to find. In her memory she pictured Jeremiah the Starwalker stealing Princess Minoweth’s dagger, and the feelings of rage that had possessed her. Nikulo had killed the Starwalker with the fragment and had caused her to sleep just as she was about to reclaim the dagger. Did Nikulo steal the dagger? But Talis had told her that the blade was vapo
rized by a blast from the fragment. Maybe he lied, or maybe Nikulo fooled him? But then why did she now possess twin blades of the same design? The Nameless feeds off memories, the same voice from her nightmare told her.

  What if she controlled her mind and hid her memories from the voice? Would she save herself from the pain and torment? She winced at the flood of images pouring into her mind, of Elder Relech’s cackling face, of stabbing and slicing innocents in the dark, of raging in jealousy over Lenora’s ability to steal Talis’s attention. It all tumbled inside in an uncontrollable torrent.

  This Unknowable Master of Nightmares, this Order of Rezel that demanded vows of blood, they both conspired to weave a web of constriction and choke the life out of her. But she would not be defenseless, not with the daggers close to her side. And she would not be controlled by the blades again, not that she now understood the power and could name it rage and malice and jealousy. She would conquer those emotions and train herself in the ever-mindfulness of the observer.

  Constant and consistent control she would learn from the masters of Ishur. She must contain the power and not allow it to rule her mind.

  Even at the cost of her life.

  5. THE CARAVAN WEST

  Nikulo followed the voices into the desert like a raving lunatic absent of memories and hope. He had killed the uncompliant caravan owner and turned his young wife into a slave—her weak mind failing to provide much resistance to the magic of his mental suggestions. The other slaves in the caravan barely raised an eye at the unexpected change in ownership. Likely I’m their fourth or fifth master over the length of their bitter life, Nikulo told himself, and found an unfamiliar laugh escape from his mouth.

  The pain had left him immediately upon exiting the city. His bliss and wild fervor had been so great that he celebrated with a raging domination of the muscular caravan owner’s mind. The man seemed gleeful as he sliced his own neck. His wife had tried to stem the flow of blood from her husband’s gushing throat but she only managed to paint her white silk dress red. Nikulo’s cruel thoughts came quickly into his corrupted mind. Pretty little thing decided a wet rouge matched her ruddy cheeks…

  The voices inside gave clear instructions: go west to Ursula and find a ship sailing to Carvina. From Nikulo’s recollection, Carvina was the capitol of the Jiserian Empire, where the Emperor sat upon the Ebony Throne. Though Ishur was rumored the largest city in the Jiserian Empire, it was said that the Emperor preferred to keep a distance from the power of the various orders of magic housed inside Ishur.

  Beyond those instructions the voices were unclear, instead showing him images of a vast body of water seated near a range of mountains. Naemarians thrive in ancient water, the voices chanted to him in unison, as deep as the planet, and as old as the stars. He realized they were taking him to drink once again from a spring where they thrived. The idea of regaining their power and knowledge both excited and terrified him at the same time.

  Used to traveling at dragon speed, Nikulo found the slow life of the caravan tedious, and with the excess amount of free time he was left with many moments to contemplate his time back on Vellia. He wished he was able to remember the flying spell he’d cast from the Naemarian well of knowledge. But other than the voices commanding him on, they seemed unable to grant him powers or expertise. They’re only able to inflict horrific pain and mind-numbing words of repetition. He’d trade his soul for a magic flying carpet.

  He’d given up on trying to make conversation with the slaves, finding their terse, obedient responses tiresome. The caravan owner’s wife was intoxicatingly beautiful, and her lissome figure provided adequate entertainment along the way. Once, in a fit of rapturous generosity, he had released the mental bond that held her will to his, and found a furious shriek spurting from her sweet mouth. He restored the bond and quickly bored of her beatific compliance.

  Now the young woman stared euphorically at him, her doll-like eyes batting in rapt fascination in response to his noxious release of gas. “Gods, girl, you smile quite prettily after I fart. Could it conjure some fond memory in that simple mind of yours? Not a thought? How about you tell me your name?”

  The girl was perhaps a year his senior, and no doubt taken as a wife in Naru in exchange for vows of protection. Little good the caravan owner’s massive muscles did her, Nikulo mused. He studied as she struggled to express herself through the haze of his mental mastery. The crystal from Ghaelstrom provided him with vast quantities of power to sustain a spell that would have quickly tired him. What will I do when I sleep? he wondered. Something had to be done to encourage her acceptance of the fate she found herself living.

  “My name is Callith,” the girl said, her mouth moving as if in a great struggle.

  “It’s a pleasure to know your name, Callith. What do you say we call a truce and not have you scream when I release the magic from your mind? Would you be open to a bargain? How about I promise to allow your freedom when we arrive in Ursula? By owning such a large and prosperous caravan you could easily find another strong, horrible husband. Agreed?”

  Her face darkened as his words seemed to sink down deep into the distant recesses of her brain. She nodded, the left side of her face twitching and marring her otherwise beautiful self. He gradually released the spell over her mind and winced, covering his ears as the scream came loud and swift from her mouth. Her eyes clenched shut as if refusing to glimpse some horror, and they opened again as if her mind played the image of the blood gushing from her handsome husband’s throat. Soon she broke into sobbing, great convulsions wracking her fine figure in a fit of wretched beauty.

  He distanced himself from her in preparation of a flurry of nails trying to claw at his face. None came and the sobs and tears degraded into a low, pitiful moaning, and she chewed the name of her dead husband in her mouth like a bitter herb. The scene was so touching that for a moment Nikulo felt a pang of guilt for causing the man to slit his own throat.

  The guilt failed to last long as the ale swirling in his belly washed it all away. His mind and his morals told him he shouldn’t slay innocent people like that, but then again, from his journey to the Underworld he knew that especially the innocent suffered the most. I’ll be joining you in hell, Nikulo told the dead man and found a mug and raised it in respect to the wife’s husband. You should have listened when I asked you to relinquish the caravan and walk back to Naru. Would have extended your miserable life for a while. At least until the Jiserians returned to destroyed and dominate Naru once again.

  Callith brought a slender hand across her tearful eyes and fixed a gaze on the mug of ale in Nikulo’s grip.

  “You want some of this, love?” He rummaged around in the back and found another mug, filling it from a barrel jostling about under the wagon’s bouncy ride. She accepted the mug and tossed back her head and drank and drank until the glistening foam trailed down her pretty cheeks.

  “Married in a day and widowed on the next day,” Callith said, her voice raspy from all the screaming she’d released from her system. “He performed his duty with me all drunk and sloppy, and you finished where he left off, with a great deal more exuberance. I’m not sure what to think of it all…”

  Nikulo grunted at the girl’s wit. “I’m sorry your husband had to die.” He found his eyes settling on the ground as he spoke. “He insisted on going to Ostreva and I have urgent business in Ursula. Your husband left me with no other option.”

  The girl sniffed and spoke with cutting tones, “I have no husband now. I’ve cried my just due tears for the man and have nothing left for him. Did you really mean your vow? Or do I have you to expect you as my new husband?”

  He grimaced at the girl’s bluntness. But her words spoke of her resilience and strength. “My vow holds true. When we arrive in Ursula the caravan is all yours. You are free to sell the wagons and goods and slaves, or find another man to lead your trading caravan. Suit yourself…”

  “You’re one of the heroes of Naru?” Callith’s fiery hair danced as
she shook her head in sudden stunned recognition. “Your friend Talis saved us from the plague that inflected our minds. I remember the crowds cheering in a chorus of laughter and singing songs to the gods. You were there in the background but your friend pulled you up to the front and raised your hand in victory. I remember your face now. You seemed so reluctant and resistant, and there was this pain that showed around your eyes as a wince. It’s strange, I only remembered you just now.”

  “Perhaps because the pain is all gone now that I’ve left Naru.” Nikulo filled his mug again and took another sip, scanning the shimmering sands that stretched across the horizon. “It’s a curse to be famous and unable to disappear from curious eyes, though not as much as the curse that afflicts my mind.”

  “What happened to you? There were these rumors circling the city that you left through a portal. Some say you went to the Underworld, and others say you visited another world.”

  “Both true, though the trip to the Underworld happened long before we left this world—twice mind you, once to Haldrax and once to Vellia, the world of dragons and light.”

  A wry smile creased her full lips. “Now you’re jesting with me. There’s no such thing as dragons, everyone knows that.”

  “True enough for this planet. I’ve traveled far and wide across the world, to the northlands and Khael and over the Melovian Sea to the Island of Lorello. And in all my travels on this world I’ve never once encountered a dragon. Except of course if you count my friend Talis as a dragon, since he can change shape into one.”

  She laughed mirthfully at his words and her face flowered fetchingly and free for the first time. He admired her beauty and found himself staring at her blue, crystalline eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. She blushed and turned away to study the slaves trudging along in the sand.