Star Mage (Book 5)

by John Forrester

  “Likely, assuming they have actually come from Carvina. It is far easier to make such a mental suggestion when the truth is stronger than the lie.” After a long while they reached the docks and sneaked down the wooden pier until they found themselves facing a large galley with the gangplank conveniently down. Master Holoron beckoned for Nikulo to go first up the plank. The wooden board creaked as Nikulo stepped along its length and finally he reached the empty deck with a guard dog that snarled at his arrival.

  With a quick hand to his temple, the beast calmed and panted in a friendly, I-want-a-snack kind of way. Nikulo handed the black dog a piece of dried beef and the creature wagged his tail and smacked in satisfaction as he wolfed down the treat.

  “Good boy,” Nikulo whispered, and scratched the dog’s ears. “Now can you show me where the captain is sleeping?” The animal bobbed its head and exhaled a smelly waft of air, and trotted over to a cabin on the aft side of the ship, its claws clicking against the wooden deck. The dog plopped itself in front of the door and whined softly.

  Nikulo waited in the shadows while commanding the dog to continue whining until a stirring and creaking could be heard inside the cabin, and a groggy voice said, “Something wrong out there, pup?”

  The door groaned opened and a scraggly-faced man with long, disheveled hair poked his head out and studied the tail-thumping dog. “Oh, I see, now. Yer just lonely and wanting a wee bit o’ company, are ya?”

  Nikulo pressed two fingers hard against his temple and fixed his mind on the captain’s thoughts. Smoothly he inserted a suggestion that his two visitors from Carvina were needing to rise early today and visit the Jiserian rulers of Onair, and that he needed to escort them inside the city.

  As a way of assuring verbal confirmation, Nikulo suggested to the man that it would be good for him to speak the words out loud, which he did in a dreamy, distant voice. The dog clobbered its tail against the deck at the captain’s words.

  “Oh, you’re awake, Captain.” Nikulo stepped carefully out from behind the shadows. “I hope I didn’t startle you. We were to meet early and go into Carvina?” Nikulo gestured at Master Holoron, who slowly appeared to the inspecting eyes of the captain. “We’re anxious to conduct our business with the masters of the Order of the Dragons. Especially since we’ve come all this way from Carvina.” Nikulo was taking a gamble that the ship had docked in the capitol, and found success as the man nodded his head in groggy assent.

  “Yes, yes, and you must be tired after making so many stops along the way.” The captain arched his back as if invigorated by some noble purpose. “Let’s make haste and get you inside, though I’m a bit confused.” He rubbed his head and Nikulo prodded his mind forward. “Bit confused as to how I’d go about requesting an audience with them… They never see us. Only the soldiers deal with sailors and merchants.”

  Nikulo waved away the worrisome thought. “Never you mind, Captain. Just get us inside those gates and we’ll handle everything past there. If anyone asks who we are, just mention we are two emissaries from the Royal Court of Carvina on a secret mission to meet the masters of the Order. They’ll understand diplomatic privilege.”

  The feeble-minded captain bobbed his head stupidly and his eyes glazed over at hearing the words, diplomatic privilege, as if nothing more needed to be said after those words had been spoken. They followed the leather-clad captain down the gangplank and the dog loyally trotted ahead, sniffing up the scents along their path down the docks. The dog lifted its leg and marked a pile, its eyes staring ahead into the darkness where torches flickered at the city gates.

  “Morning, soldier,” the captain said, and inclined his head in a bow as the three of them passed a well-armed guard with suspicious eyes. The soldier settled on Nikulo and Master Holoron for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then the man continued on his patrol away from them and Nikulo sighed in relief as they neared the heavily fortified gate.

  A tall, burly soldier wearing a strange, woven steel armor studied them with hawkish eyes as they strode closer. He stood well over a foot taller than Nikulo, and his giant sword swung out to stop the captain’s approach.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The soldier lifted the captain’s chin with the tip of his gleaming sword. The sailor gulped in response, his once sleepy eyes now fearful and alert.

  “These men are emissaries from the Royal Court of Carvina.” The captain froze as the soldier rested his blade against the sailor’s neck. “They have business inside with your rulers.”

  “And my sword is hungry for blood.” The soldier’s words earned him a few appreciative grunts from the other men in their squad who sat lazily around a fire warming their hands.

  “What Crestia means to say is…turn your sorry asses around and go back to that pathetic ship of yours,” another older, menacing-eyed soldier said. “Or find your head lopped off your ugly body. Those men are no more royal emissaries than the wench I had last night was the legendary Princess Serine of House Ostreva.”

  The soldiers guffawed at that remark, and Nikulo found himself uncertain if he could affect the cynical, hardened minds of those men. Master Holoron seemed infinitely more confident as he spoke to them in a low, assuring voice.

  “Let the poor man alone,” the wizard said, and stepped in and moved the sword aside. “He’s just doing as instructed and delivering us to Carvina. No need to frighten him. Can you see us more clearly now, in the light of your torches, that we are emissaries from the Royal Court? Would you dare turn us away and risks your lives as swordplay for those masters of the Order of the Dragons?” He studied Crestia with doubtful eyes. “You won’t last long against them, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you know of the Dragons?” Crestia said, and lowered his sword as an uncertain expression clouded his face.

  “As a royal emissary I know a great deal.” Master Holoron sighed in irritation. “I know they’re faster than you by far and stronger as well, and even if they weren’t, there is no way that your pathetic sword could cut through their scaly armor. How many countless times have you seen them hack down challengers in the arena? Dare you wish to join those challengers in filling the trough of blood spilled by those masters of the Order? Now step aside and open the gates, and you can get back to the business of minding your wenches.”

  There was a long, tense pause during which Nikulo felt beads of sweat dribble down under his armpits. He glanced at the nervous, wary eyes of the soldiers who all seemed to be waiting for someone to issue a verdict. Finally, a soldier pushed himself up from a chair where he had been resting under a tarp. As he sauntered over to them, a long scar across his grizzled face gleamed in the firelight. His eyes stared off in different directions as he studied Master Holoron and Nikulo in a long, uncomfortable gaze.

  “Since you seem to know the Dragons so well, old man, why don’t you tell me which Master of the Order you seek?” The man Nikulo guessed was the commander stared at the wizard a long time as if he knew the trap he had set would catch its prey.

  A wry smile crossed Master Holoron’s face. “A name I can easily supply. Is it Commander?”

  The soldier nodded and said, “Commander Drelan.”

  “Thank you, Commander. We are here to visit Master Varghul, the leader of Onair and likely the new bane of your existence?” The wizard gave Commander Drelan a knowing expression that caused the man’s cold stare to deflate.

  “Right this way, sir.” The soldier completely changed his demeanor to that of a professional bound by duty to fulfill his task. Master Holoron bowed abruptly to the captain, and followed Commander Drelan fifty feet up to the gates now rising and clattering noisily.

  Nikulo stared up in amazement at the repaired gaps in the walls where the waves had broken through, clearly visible by the incomplete construction that stopped around twenty feet up along the hundred foot walls. It was almost as if a titanic sea beast had come ashore and chomped several areas of the walls, leaving behind a horrific wreck.

  The city i
nside was sparse and crudely constructed, and the lower part was filled with large tents and Nikulo could see the fearful eyes of women dressed in dour colors as they prepared breakfast for the sleeping men. Piles of resting dogs nestling together failed to bother at their approach. The entire area had a desolate, temporary feeling as if at any moment another massive wave from the sea might wash it all away and leave behind only sand and rubble.

  After walking some fifteen minutes through more hastily constructed housing, they finally reached a second gate that rose at the Commander’s signal. Compared to the chaos of Ursula, the City of Onair was run with the rude precision of a military camp at war, though Nikulo could see no evidence of conflict. The inner city seemed completely unaffected by the gigantic waves that had struck the outer walls and had inflicted horror on the houses and buildings there.

  The core of the city was the picture of perfection, the exotic beauty that Nikulo had imagined from the etchings in his geography books he had studied of Onair. Tall palm trees dotted the landscape, with fig and date and olive trees scattered here and there across the multi-layered cityscape. The several storied houses were whitewashed with colorful paintings and patterns circling underneath the wooden roofs. On the towering buildings built with sharp, sleek granite pillars, the clean, geometric rooflines stood as sentinels to the vibrantly painted friezes below the beams. Nikulo gaped at the pristine condition of this part of the city, as if the invading sorcerers refused to touch the historic beauty of this place. For indeed it was a marvel to behold.

  The only evidence of discord was a massive pile of sun-blanched human bones and skulls in front of one the most beautiful buildings—Nikulo guessed it was a temple from glancing at the golden dome. Across the white wall were characters written in an arcane, Jiserian script that Nikulo could read from his years of study with Master Holoron.

  DRAGONS HAVE DEVOURED THE SONGS.

  21. THE CANDLE FLAME

  Mara nearly collapsed by early evening, after an exhausting day spent in silly social conversations, lavish feasts and long introductions to countless nobles with their odd sense of pride in wearing only black or white-colored clothes. Her favorite part of the day was when they sauntered over to a shaded veranda adorned with climbing roses for afternoon tea and cakes, including fresh strawberries and whipped cream. All the social torture was made palatable by the sweet deserts and fragrant tea.

  The evening slowly stole hours away from the day, and the dark fingers of twilight stretched across the outdoor dinner party situated along a fantastic man-made lake with seven waterfalls spilling from the gaping mouths of seven gods and goddesses. In a peculiar change in the scene, all the women had disappeared from what the men coined, The Resting Hour, and returned renewed and radiant wearing sheer silk dinner gowns that revealed far more of the women's’ figures than Mara’s dress.

  At the first cheerful note played from a lute, Mara could tell that the night’s festivities were an anchor point for the nobility, as the amount of royals out milling around the lake at the dinner party tripled from many of the events earlier that day. With the orchestra playing full and furious now, the warm sultry air possessed only a faint hint of humidity, though enough to keep the night pleasant enough for Mara’s exposed skin. As she stood arm-in-arm with Talis observing the migratory patterns of the royals, she felt a firm flow of steadying power from having him at her side. Something about his tousled hair and dazzling eyes filled her with a sense of belonging and confidence that she so desperately needed right now, especially after the incident with her slaying the three sorcerers.

  Gasps and murmurs cascaded across the various groups as heads turned towards a stain of blood-red that showed far off in a slow-moving boat that appeared underneath a god’s head. Mara craned her neck to see around stretching heads trying to get a better view of the arrival of someone very special. The blare of trumpets burst out. A luminous red falling curtain covered the sky from the zenith all the way down to the rolling surface of the lake. The boat and its riders had teasingly vanished in the shimmering show of power likely created by invisible magicians positioned mysteriously across the grounds.

  And then an eruption of fireworks from hundreds of spouts in the lake jettisoned white and red pillars of fire high into the sky and ignited the curtain into a raging inferno that blinded Mara for a moment and sent her heart racing in ecstatic delight. With the smoke came a dark and dreadful mist that showered the celebration in obscuring phantoms and faeries that moved and swirled and danced around the heads of the partygoers. But soon absolute darkness rampaged across the screaming, wailing women and brought a roar of frenzied exclamations. The sounds seemed as if coming from the mouths of men sentenced to death, men pleading to indifferent executioners.

  Mara felt the fury of fear surging in her chest, the same feeling as when Talis had led her into the Ruins of Elmarr, into the place of doom where the malevolent voice spoke words of terror to her mind. Was the same being haunting here in a visitation upon Carvina, summoned through the channeled spells of its most ardent sorcerers? The power surged and scintillated as a ripple of fire and electricity danced in sheets across the sky, so intoxicating that Mara felt her legs quiver and tremble under the force of magic, and she found her teeth clenched in a weird, uncontainable wrath. She longed to grip her daggers and destroy and destroy until the sky was a deluge of blood.

  Silence and a wash of nothingness. A familiar hand holding hers. Talis staring over her with concerned eyes. The smell of smoke and cinder serenaded her nostrils and caused her to gasp in a sudden wakefulness.

  “Where am I?” Her voice sounded surprisingly soft and sleepy, as if she’d just woken from a long, dreamless sleep. She glanced around and her eyes discovered a dimly lit room and Talis sitting at her bedside. His face held the concerned expression of a father studying a sick child.

  “We’re back in your room at the Regent’s Inn.” He looked as if he were uncertain of how much to reveal to her. “You fainted in the park. It was pretty intense when the Emperor arrived with his consorts and royal sorcerers and illusionists. You weren’t the only one to faint. I saw countless women and even men gasping and convulsing with horrified expressions gripping their faces. It was a grim and devious scene. Master Goleth believes it had something to do with our arrival in Carvina and the letter that he wrote to the Emperor. He said that Emperor Ghaalis likes to awe first-time visitors to Carvina with a massive display of his power.”

  “Did I go into convulsions?” Mara studied Talis’s face for hints of her unruly behavior, but he only shook his head and his clear eyes told that her she didn’t act out of place.

  “You just fainted after the darkness came. I felt your knees buckling and I scooped you up before you could fall.” He grinned at her and cupped her cheeks with his hands and she pushed herself up and kissed him in appreciation for his chivalry.

  “Gods, that’s a relief. Here I was imagining myself spasming on the lawn like a deranged lunatic.” She sat up and glanced around the dark room. “What time is it? I’m starving. Is there any place we can go and get something to eat?”

  “We could ask the servants to bring us something.”

  She shook her head, wanting to go outside and feel invigorated by the cool night air. “I’ll change into something black and make sure I fit in with the crowd. I got way too much attention today wearing red. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You certainly did draw a lot of stares.” He stood and helped her up and chuckled at her woozy face as she found her legs wobbly.

  “Wow, I must have really been out of it,” she said, and steadied herself against Talis’s arm until they reached the changing room filled with clothes that had been made especially for her. “How late it is?”

  “Like midnight?” A nervous expression flashed across Talis’s face. “I hope it’s ok for us to go outside.”

  She waved away the idea and rummaged through the collection of clothes and dresses hanging from brass hooks in the huge
wardrobe. A short sleek black dress with frilly lace below the waist caught her eyes and she pressed it against her chest and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t what she’d call beautiful, not compared to all the other tall, gazelle-like girls that loped around in long, lavish dresses that accentuated their lean and lengthy arms and legs. Their slender figures had just the right amount of curves to inflict cruelty on the imagination of men gawking at them like puppies. But many men did stare at her tonight, and Talis beamed in pride at having her by his side.

  “This one,” she proclaimed, and decided for certain after Talis’s bright eyes fixed the decision. She told him to turn aside while she undressed, but when he went to leave she asked him to stay and keep her company. The black dress fit perfectly and she stretched out her arms and twirled in front of the long mirror, admiring her toned and slender legs that looked longer than the last time she had studied herself.

  “Am I getting taller?” she said, and looked to Talis for confirmation.

  “You are taller, actually. Your mother is quite tall, so no reason you won’t grow more.” Talis was being kind and Mara knew it; her mother wasn’t tall, definitely not compared to how tall and thin the women were in Carvina. They looked like giraffes.

  She seized his hand in an excited rush and slipped on a pair of shiny black slippers the servants had brought for her, and tugged Talis out into the hallway. They quickly escaped out a side door into the crisp, fragrant night air that possessed the faintest hint of a cool mist. The streets were still surprisingly bustling, with fewer couples and far more younger, livelier girls and boys threading through the streets with jubilant and conniving faces. Mara noticed the curious eyes of boys older than her, drugged and intoxicated eyes that roamed and laughed and raged ebullience and freedom.

  Music poured out across the streets from performers singing and playing and dancing for coin, upended velvet hats collecting a bounty based on the skill and popularity of the artists. She caught sight of the most beautiful and exotic young woman she had ever seen, dancing at a wild street corner thronged with admiring men and jealous girls. The dancer wore diamonds slunk around her exposed, sensuous belly that gyrated and pulsed to the sound of drums hammering away in a frenzy of hypnotic rhythms. Her silk top teasingly revealed upright breasts that bounced in time with the music. Mara found a blush coming to her face at the woman’s erotic movements.