Star Mage (Book 5)

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Star Mage (Book 5) Page 7

by John Forrester


  Then the realization hit Nikulo with the weight of a heavy block of stone. There was conflict between the necromancers and the sorcerers, and likely the act of Nikulo slaying the sorcerer and sending the undead out as bait confirmed the sorcerers’ suspicion that the necromancers were in league against them. How could he incite and inflame the hostilities between them?

  “Can you take me to one of the places where the necromancers are known to live?” Nikulo studied Yarin. “You had mentioned before that you thought they nested in the depths of various libraries across the city.” Maybe if he could root out the necromancers from their hiding places, he could invoke open warfare between them.

  Yarin nodded and glanced around, then facing the south, he led them down another street until they reached a towering marble building with twisting pillars and a full consort of deities and demigods mounted in a procession along the pristine pediment.

  “No citizen dares venture inside anymore, not since the Jiserian occupation. The Library of Nestria has become the warren of the necromancers, and deep inside the basement archives they have founded a coven of the dead. If you choose to enter, we will not follow you.”

  Nikulo released a devious chuckle. “I wouldn’t think of asking such a thing. I’m not even foolish enough to go inside myself. I’ll let my pets do the dirty work for us. Let’s see how these necromancers enjoy the wrath of the undead turned against them.” An unbreakable wrath filled with the power from the Ghaelstrom crystal, he thought.

  He sent a mental command to his horde of forty undead, a command most receptively received by their vengeful minds. Go inside the library, go down and seek your former masters, and tear limbs from torsos, and heads from trunks. Feast and devour until there is nothing left of them.

  The undead chased off, teeth clattering together in delight, and they disappeared into the darkness of the library.

  11. MUSIC OF THE MAELSTROM

  With the aid of the sorcerer’s spells, the Emperor’s Revenge now sailed at a speedy pace under the strong gust blustering behind them. Talis had studied the sorcerers as they cast their spells, memorizing their chantings and hand movements, and he tried to practice the spells in the secret world of dreams, but was unable to succeed. Since his time studying with Master Viridian had been cut short, he’d only learned from him the art of casting Fire and Wind Magic. The knowledge of summoning storms and casting lightning bolts against enemies was unknown to him. So many spells to discover and perfect in what Talis saw as the vast sea of magical knowledge.

  On the second night of their voyage, the ship surged and fell in a rhythmic rocking that reminded Talis of the frenzied beating of the drummers in the forest where the witch Ashtera had tried to slay them. The music of the ship’s hull against the water was mesmerizingly beautiful, and Talis found himself spending countless minutes, eyes closed, listening to the sound.

  Master Viridian had once told him that there were different types of meditation, one of the eyes and one of the ears and one of nothingness. Now, the sounds of the sea lured his mind into a trance of chaotic intoxication. It was the sound of the army of dead in the Grim March, and the sound of the nether hounds of Zagros charging across that vile plain, it was the sound of storm and ruin and destruction. It was the sound of war.

  Talis found his mind drifting towards the sound of the voice deep inside the Ruins of Elmarr, and knew that voice as the singer of the same song. The smashing of skulls against stone, the splash of blood spraying at the slice of a sword through flesh, the rhythm of war and violence repeated by hardened fanatics of Nyx, the God of War. The fury of rage and lust for blood and power, repeated endlessly like the rhythm of song, like the rhythm of the ship’s hull against the waves. That song was surging now throughout the world. Talis could feel it in the hammering of his heart.

  What force was in opposition to the music of the maelstrom playing out in the world? Was it Emperor Ghaalis, had he turned against the strife and unrest in Ishur in the hopes of regaining peace and order in his Empire? Or was the void of power from Aurellia’s departure the catalyst that struck the first chord in this chaotic song? Talis knew that unless he did something to stem the flood of chaos, the whole world would be engulfed in the madness of the mind of the Nameless.

  “Mind if I join you?” Mara said, her voice soft and sleepy. Talis turned to see several locks of long hair fall over her amber eyes. She flicked the locks absently away from her face, revealing a troubled expression.

  “I had a horrible nightmare.” She stretched out her arms and allowed her small figure to be enveloped in his comforting embrace. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest slowly subside and smooth, as if the vile world of the dream were melting away. “You were being tortured inside a chamber devoid of light. I couldn’t see you, I could only hear your screams and moans of agony. You cried my name over and over again, begging for me to stop the pain.”

  She paused for a long while, as if uncertain of what to reveal and what to keep to herself. Finally, she exhaled quickly and continued. “It was simply horrible. I can’t understand why I would have such dreams. Can’t we just go back to the smuggler’s cove and hide away from this hideous world? I slept so peacefully there and my mind was free and calm.”

  “And something has changed since we boarded this ship?” Talis held her shoulders and studied Mara’s eyes, hoping to find hints as to her unrest.

  “Everything has changed. I don’t sleep well on this endlessly swaying ship. The crew is always gawking at me, and several times I’ve caught Master Goleth mumbling to himself in a really mad way. And those sorcerers keep glaring at me with their scheming eyes. I just don’t trust them.”

  “Soon enough we’ll arrive in Carvina.” He held her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Captain Cridd told me that we’ll round the Horn of Hardrin sometime early this morning. He said that he ordered the sorcerers to smooth the weather around the Horn so we’ll pass through without interruption.” Though he doubted the Captain’s confidence in the sorcerer’s abilities in completely controlling the weather. According to Master Viridian, weather was the hardest thing to master and the most unpredictable in achieving results, often subject to mass movements of maliciousness by the gods of storm and chaos. And the sorcerers had looked tired in Talis’s eyes, taking turns to rest and recover from their long exertion in commanding the wind.

  Now the sails softened under a lull in the breeze, and Talis glanced up at the masts, expecting another pop in the sails as was usual during their voyage. But even after a long while the wind remained at rest, and Talis thought that perhaps the sorcerers were exhausted from holding the wind spell for so long.

  “That’s strange,” Talis said, and jutted his chin towards the sails. “It’s the first time this trip that the wind has stopped.”

  Mara’s tired eyes followed his gaze and her forehead furrowed in fear. He strode across the deck towards the stern, where the sorcerers usually held their wind spells and gazed at the sky. The aft deck was empty. Talis glanced around, trying to spot the sorcerers, but there was no sign of them. He charged over to the cabin where they often rested and meditated and he found the door unlocked. Inside the room was vacant save for the hammocks and the empty trays of food.

  “Where are they?” Talis said, and he found Mara worried and perplexed as the ship seemed to meander off course and her speed lagged her once consistent pace. They raced over to the helm, hoping to find an answer there, and found it in the burned and bloody body splayed on the deck. The wheel spun senselessly and Talis seized it at once, keeping her direction as straight as he knew.

  “Can you hold the wheel?” Talis allowed her to take over, and he slung his backpack around and withdrew the Surineda Map. A faint falling mist was illuminated under the map’s golden glow, and Talis commanded it to display the ship and her direction, and it zoomed out to show their proximity to the shore. They were headed directly towards danger, and the map flashed red at the rocks ahead.

>   Talis asked Mara to spin the wheel left and they adjusted their course towards safety, and from the map he realized that if he had waited a few more minutes they’d have ruptured the hull on the rocks and faced a watery grave. He told her he was going to rouse the Captain, and from her nod of confidence, left her to keep the ship guided away from shore.

  Fist pounding on the Captain’s Quarters, he shouted in alarm for the man to wake but found the man deep asleep. Talis was about to break open the door when he was greeted by the Captain’s furious face and fuming breath that stank of whisky and onions.

  “Why in the name of the gods are you banging on my door?” The Captain peered outside at the dark sky, his bed-strewn hair a tangled mess. “What do you want? It’s the middle of the night. For the love of all that is holy let me sleep!”

  “Was your first mate supposed to be sailing the ship?” Talis said, fixing his eyes on the Captain.

  “What? Of course, he’s on duty…”

  “He’s been killed by your sorcerers.” Talis clucked his tongue in disapproval. “And they’ve vanished from the ship.”

  Captain Cridd’s eyes went wide as he sniffed the air and pushed Talis aside, striding out onto the deck and he stared up at the sky, hands pressed to his hips. “Well then, who’s steering the damned ship?”

  “Mara is, sir.” Talis followed the Captain to where Mara stood. She relinquished the helm to the Captain, and studied his face now filled with terror as he kept sniffing the air and staring up at the turbulent sky.

  “A big storm is coming and I didn’t even see it.” Captain Cridd muttered curses and shook his head like he was disgusted with himself. “So damned used to those conniving sorcerers that I never envisioned being betrayed by them.”

  “They’re from Ishur?” Talis said.

  “Nay, from Ostreva. I only hire neutral forces. Don’t want to be seen as choosing sides.”

  “Why do you think they would abandon ship and put us on a course for destruction?”

  “Could be they didn’t like having Master Goleth on board, could be they didn’t like you.” The Captain sneered at the storm and scoffed. “We’ll never know, now will we? They’re long gone and this blasted storm is about to crush my ship into a million splinters.”

  “I’ll go wake Master Goleth, he might be able to help us.” Talis jogged off and took the steps down below deck and found the Builder’s cabin open and called out for him to wake. The wizard flicked his alert eyes open and raised himself up at once.

  “Something is amiss?” Master Goleth said, and at Talis’s insistent face, he followed him up above deck where they were greeted with a sudden splash from the sky. “Betrayed? Let me guess, those sorcerers left us to suffer under the storm?”

  “And they killed the first mate at the helm. We almost crashed onto the rocks before Mara and I steered us to safety.”

  The Builder winced as the rain lashed his face and he seemed to crave the cover of his cabin. “Do you know how to tame the storm, young master Talis?”

  “I never had the chance to learn.” Talis felt his stomach twist at Master Goleth’s disappointed face.

  “You and I are in the same ship, forgive the pathetic pun.” He gave Talis a defeated grimace. “Those of my Order were forbidden from studying the art of storm and fire. Ours was intended to purely master the construction and deconstruction of elemental matter. Which in this case proves a great disadvantage.”

  “Could you fortify the ship against the storm?” Talis remembered Mara’s story about how the Builder had forged massive metal and crystal ships on Vellia, and the smooth ride she’d experienced across the vast oceans despite being waylaid by storms.

  “Aye, indeed we could.” Master Goleth’s eyes brightened as they arrived at the helm and were greeted by the Captain’s stoic expression studying the storm.

  “Can she weather the waves?” Talis asked the Captain, and from his calculating eyes knew they could not.

  “Not without a wizard to tame the winds and the sea. Few vessels chance a passing around the cape without magical aid.” Captain Cridd looked to Master Goleth. “Can you do something to settle the storm?”

  Master Goleth shook his head and Talis watched the Captain’s face go pale in a look of defeat. “No, I cannot alter the storm, but my magic does allow for me to fashion you a stronger ship. If you have no objections to staying afloat.”

  “While we are at sea?” The Captain’s confused face crinkled in disbelief. “How in the name of the sea gods is that possible?”

  “Pray to your gods, while I build you a better boat.” Master Goleth flicked his fingers and floated up through the air to the crow’s nest, where his waving hands sent tendrils of silvery energy into the sea.

  The Captain shouted down below decks. “All hands on deck! Batten down the hatches and prepare for the storm!”

  In a few moments, the sleepy-eyed and fearful crew hauled themselves up to the deck, and the Captain ordered them to bring down the sails and tie them up. Everything of importance that could be swept away by the storm was brought below deck.

  Mara nestled beside Talis, and sheltered her head from the rain by hiding underneath his arm. They watched as the Builder drew in the crystalline elements of sand and formed a protective covering around the hull that rose twenty feet above the deck. He started with the prow and drew in more and more elements until after an hour of forging a reinforced hull, he brought the crystalline shield together all the way around to complete at the stern.

  The waves whipped high while the Builder fashioned the elements together, and some swells slammed against the unprotected bowsprit, shattering the wood under the force of the impact. Master Goleth flew down and returned to the deck, and studied the creaking and groaning masts. He cast more crystalline elements to wrap around and protect the integrity of the three great beams, and the ship held intact despite the terrific force of the waves. Because of the shaking and reeling of the ship, the crew was wide-eyed and they mumbled prayers to their gods.

  Talis tired of staring at the raging waves, though in his observation the swells were rising minute by minute. The Captain ordered most of the crew below decks after the sails were secured, the decks cleared, and the hatches closed. He commanded several keen-eyed sailors to keep an eye out for rocks, though from what Talis could see, they had the most to worry about the waves.

  Off a great distance ahead, where the sky had cleared a few hundred feet from the low, violent clouds, Talis spotted a massive wave rising high above the rest. He prodded the Captain and pointed off towards the swell, and the man’s face fell to a grave look of hopelessness.

  “Master Goleth!” shouted Talis, and motioned at the wave. “Can you build the hull barrier higher?”

  The tired wizard stared with dumbfounded eyes at the wave, and shook his head in despair. “Not in time to save us.”

  12. SOWING DISCORD

  The idea of slaying necromancers by using their own undead as weapons against them pleased Nikulo in the strangest way possible. He’d often wondered whether the undead might fight harder or act with more brutality against their once cruel masters. They most certainly did. He watched one undead ripping an arm from a casting necromancer, while their drooling comrades sank their teeth deep into the Jiserian’s neck and feasted for a long while on their soft spine.

  Nikulo could only imagine the horror and surprise of the necromancers as their undead chased after them in the library archives. He was certain that one necromancer must have looked at another, as if thinking, Did you call them here? And only to find themselves as fodder for the hungry undead. Nikulo had turned his head away in disgust, feeling bile creep up his throat at the sight of the undead ripping the necromancers into small mounds of bloody flesh. The remaining horde of undead burst out of the library and scrabbled around at the bloody bits, and slammed and punched each other in a wild feeding frenzy that Nikulo was unable to stop.

  “I think we better get out of here and let them calm down.” Nik
ulo turned and trotted off north to where they’d encountered the sorcerers in the plaza. When they’d reached a safe distance, he glanced back and saw that the undead had returned to feed inside the library. Until there is nothing left of the Jiserian necromancers, thought Nikulo. And he’d be happy to also feed them the poisoned remains of the sorcerers. If he could only find where they’d gone.

  When they arrived at the plaza, they were greeted by the other three groups, who came to them with expectant eyes, and were flanked by their decaying host of undead protectors. When a few of the undead seemed to catch a whiff of some tantalizing smell in the wind—no doubt from the necromancers’ blood—Nikulo commanded them to hide in the shadows of the northwestern part of the plaza.

  “The City of Ursula is almost free,” Nikulo said, and gave them a bolstering look that only yielded a tepid response. “How many remaining sorcerers do you think are still alive?”

  “I’m guessing three or four remain after the one you slew. Still too many.” Yarin tilted his head towards the west. “The sorcerers are known to enjoy the view of the sea. We can also trying stirring up a few other palaces that they’ve been known to occupy.” When the man said stirring up, Nikulo pictured the undead ravaging the bodies of the necromancers. Not a pretty scene.

  “Lead on. The day is getting long and I have a ship to catch. If we don’t find the sorcerers before the long rays of afternoon, then you’ll have to battle the sorcerers by yourselves.” And a poor chance of success you’ll have, especially without a wizard or even a decent archer to shoot the sorcerers at range. Nikulo supposed that all the wizards and archers in their army were slain by the Jiserians. Or imprisoned, he thought, and wondered if that was where at least a few of the Jiserians might be lurking.

  “I changed my mind. Take me to your prison, I assume you have one of those here in Ursula?”

 

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