Bridgeworlds: Rise of the Magi

by Randy Blackwell

  They reached the glass cage that would return them to the surface. As it rose, Omar described his plan to Myles. “I’m game for this, Doc. Just remember, I’m staying with the Council of Seven.”

  “That’s your choice, Myles. In fact it may work to our advantage to allow the recruits to align themselves. It’ll show that we’re not against the councils.”

  “It’s a good plan, Doc. I know human nature, and if these people are anything like humans, they’re going to buy it hook, line, and sinker.”

  “I hope so, my friend. Our lives may depend on it.”

  “Wait, one last thing.”

  “What’s that, Myles?”

  “What are we going to call this order again?”

  “The Order of the Magi.”

  “I like it. It’s mysterious! We should have a sign made for the show that says, The Rise of the Magi.”

  ~*~

  Ischus finally convinced the Council of Six to meet with the Council of Seven at the coliseum in Pneuma Karpos. Fortunately for Myles, he’d had two days to prepare the coliseum for all the illusions he planned to perform. Chairs and tables had been strategically staged in the middle of the arena for maximum effect. The coliseum was packed full of Musterlings, with twelve thousand present.

  Myles and Omar wore grey wool cloaks over their regular clothing. They’d gone over everything until it all flowed well and they could do it without hesitation. Expecting their audience to be extremely critical, they knew that there could be no hesitation. Now it was time to see it through.

  When they reached the center of the arena, they turned and looked toward the full council of thirteen. Except for the Adam, a representative of every race in Musterion sat waiting for Myles and Omar to begin. Ischus and King Thalassa had told them about each of the members of the two councils to help them prepare.

  "There's Moluno," Omar murmured to Myles. Both Ischus and King Thalassa had warned them about this Kalat who led the Council of Six.

  Myles barely nodded. "Arrogant, violent, and not to be trusted. I remember what they told us."

  Moluno was taller than an average human. Beneath his purple cape rose bone shoulder guards. On his black breastplate the emblem of a dragon’s skull seemed to suck light away from around it so that it was always in a shadow. Cracked and veined patches marred his ghastly white arms and legs. Strips of grey leather studded with black metal hung from his belt over a loincloth. He had a long cleft chin, a beak-like nose, and tall, pointed ears. Green mist rose from his eyes. Wisps of black shadows trailed behind him as he moved.

  He spoke eloquently, but it seemed more as if he tried to seduce his listeners. When he stood the tension in the coliseum rose and it didn't even seem as if anyone was breathing.

  “I agreed to this meeting.” His voice penetrated without seeming loud. “But I do not understand your purpose in assembling both councils and this crowd.”

  Ischus cleared his throat and stood. “For many years, as you well know, the councils have struggled to live together in peace despite our religious, legal, and political differences. We are here today to address the unfortunate incident in the town square in as civil a manner as possible. It is true that Omar Metzger does not believe the words of the Book, and would therefore fall under your jurisdiction. But Myles Callahan does believe the words of the Book and would fall into our jurisdiction. Both were involved, as was Sebastian, my personal assistant.

  "Omar has informed us that he declines to join either council. This proceeding will allow him to explain why we should not compel him to choose a council alignment.”

  Almost immediately there was a reaction from Asah Towb, who was of the Daqad race. Although he only stood about 4 feet in height, he was tall for a Daqad and had a full, foot-long beard. Clusters of small granite-like rock formations took the place of eyebrows. Similar formations grew from his elbows like small mountain peaks. Smaller mineral deposits formed his knuckles.

  Asah lurched up and slammed his rock-like fist onto the table. His voice echoed, vast and cavern-like. “It was agreed long ago that all Musterlings must choose a council according to their belief or their lack of belief in the Book. We have made no exceptions to this in our history, and there is nothing that will change my mind on this matter!”

  Ischus nodded. “Normally, I would agree with you, Asah. You have always been the most moral and just of your brethren, and your judgment would normally have strong influence. Still, we should hear the strangers out.”

  Moluno scowled at Ischus. “We’re not here to see which council these two will or will not join. We’re here to try these criminals for murdering one of my people on the streets of this city. Phoneus was my cousin, and my brethren and I demand to know what transpired there. Move on!”

  A female Kalat in the crowd chose that moment to jump over the barrier between the crowd and the councils. She walked toward them with a casual, cocky attitude. She was of medium height and wore dark, silken, oriental-style clothing. Omar and Myles hadn’t seen this kind of clothing on any of the other Musterlings, so they wondered who she might be. She walked with confidence and a knowing smile as she approached the table.

  “Come on Moluno,” she grinned. “You and I both know that our cousin was an idiot.”

  Moluno narrowed his eyes. “Why, dear sister, Ragal, it’s so good to see you, but unless you’ve been voted into the council without my knowledge, I’d suggest you sit down and shut your mouth before you stir up more trouble than you can handle.”

  Ragal’s smile grew teasing. “Oh, dear brother, I can handle more trouble than you can imagine.” Her eyes were expressive, almost attractive. Myles could remember his younger sister giving him that same look on many occasions. But Ragal wasn’t done taunting her brother.

  She planted both feet, demonstrating her disregard for his command. “I think I’ll stand here and observe as these two strangers make a fool of you. I think Phoneus deserved what he got. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  A female Nepsah of the Council of Seven flew up out of her seat. “Could the two of you keep your domestic squabbles at home? I really would like to hear what happened and how this Akana believes he can get away with not choosing a council.” She looked at Omar. “Please ignore them and make your presentation.”

  Omar cleared his throat and glanced over at Myles for confidence. “Thank you all for giving us this opportunity to explain what happened the other night. I am Omar Metzger, founder of the Order of the Magi. I’ve come to Musterion in search of intelligent individuals who are worthy of joining our Order. Upon our arrival here, we were unfortunately drawn into an event which is being greatly misrepresented. Myles and I will reenact this incident for you. We will also take this opportunity to show you what Magi are capable of.” Omar took a couple of steps away from Myles.

  “Myles arrived in Musterion from the tunnels and observed Sebastian and Phoneus in the alley behind the café. Myles saw that Phoneus was not only beating Sebastian, but he had a knife hidden behind his back. Myles intervened, but Phoneus overpowered Myles. I came upon the scene as Phoneus was crushing Myles’ leg and threatening to kill him. In defense of my friend's life I shot Phoneus with a ball of fire, like this.”

  At that word, Omar extended his arm toward Myles. A bright ball of flame shot from Omar’s hand. When the ball of fire hit Myles in the chest, his robes collapsed to the ground without him in them. He just disappeared. The crowd gasped, and for about a minute there was a complete hush in the coliseum.

  “Hey! I’m okay. I’m up here!” All eyes shifted to Myles, about 200 yards away, in the top row of the coliseum.

  An Akana of the Council of Six blurted out, “Impossible!”

  “And yet, there it is, right before your eyes,” Omar said with a smile.

  The council members all turned back to Omar. “No more games,” shouted Moluno. “You’ll tell us how you did this thing.”

  Omar shook his head. “No! The secrets we hold are for Magi alone. If you would like to join
, you may apply at city hall in Pneuma Karpos, but I doubt you have the intelligence for it.” Laughter spread throughout the crowd.

  Moluno heaved himself over the table toward Omar. “You’ll do as I say or you’ll pay with your life!” As Moluno crawled over the table, his fingernails dug into the wood as if it was clay.

  Omar just stood there and raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to join your cousin? Don't underestimate me. I’m the founder of the Magi, and you’ll regret any physical action you take against me…sir!”

  Moluno didn't pause in his lunge toward Omar. Shouts and screams broke from the crowd as he grabbed for Omar. Moluno landed face-first on the arena floor with only Omar’s robe beneath him. A disembodied voice echoed throughout the coliseum. “I will not be threatened, and I cannot be harmed.”

  As Moluno got to his feet, Ragal was the first to speak. “I think you should leave, brother, so that we adults may continue negotiations with the Magi.” Her smile was gone, and she looked intensely serious.

  Moluno glared at Ragal. “I am the Chairman of the Council of Six. How dare you tell me to leave?”

  Ragal grinned. “You may be the chairman today, but who knows what tomorrow holds?”

  Moluno laughed at his sister’s impudence. “It would take a unanimous vote to get me off of the council and there is no way that could…” He trailed off as he looked at the disgusted expressions of his cohorts.

  Moluno frowned. “Omar, if you’re still here, please make yourself visible so that we may speak with you. I promise before all these witnesses that I’ll not attempt to harm you again.”

  Myles had worked his way past Ragal, down to the center of the arena again and cracked a smile at Moluno’s invitation. This was one of his favorite tricks, and he loved the fact that Moluno had handed them this chance to finish big. Myles gestured sharply toward the ground and smoke began to rise in a large white cloud. Omar stepped through the thick smoke and waved his hand at the crowd.

  A Remmy on the Council of Seven jumped onto the table in front of him. He stood only a foot tall, wearing a mushroom cap on his head with a long beard that trailed below his waist. His voice was strong for such a small figure. He stabbed a finger at Omar “I tell you what! I think its dark sorcery!”

  Omar answered, “There’s no such thing as magic. I assure you that we do not use sorcery.”

  Ischus spoke up. “He tells the truth. I’ve weighed his heart, and he doesn’t lie. This isn’t magic!”

  Omar nodded toward him. “Thank you, Ischus.” He raised his hands and announced, “There’s one more thing you should understand. We will not be staying here in Musterion. It was the Adam who discovered the way out of the maze before, and it will be the Adam who will do it again. Those who join the Order of the Magi may come with us when we leave. The Magi will also need servants and workers of all kinds, so anyone may apply to join us whether or not they are accepted into the order.”

  There was a murmur throughout the crowd in the coliseum while people began to discuss what they had just seen and heard. As the commotion continued, Myles stepped forward with a smile and asked, “Are we clear of the charges against us?”

  Moluno looked at them in disgust. “Yes, you are.”

  Myles turned to the entire group of the two councils. “We would like to give the council time to discuss the Order of the Magi in private. Please summon us when you decide what you’ll do.”

  Omar and Myles both bowed respectfully, turned, and walked away. Sebastian followed. Omar looked back, saw Sebastian, and grinned. “How would you like to be the first Magi recruit?”

  Sebastian's head bobbed and he beamed at them. “I thought you’d never ask.” He quickened his step and walked beside them. And so the new order began.

  As they left the coliseum, Myles reached into his pocket to get his pipe and found a note.

  You and Doctor Metzger need to meet me at city hall in Sarx-Ergon if you want to see your motorcycle and bags again.

  Instead of reacting right away, Myles reached farther down in his pocket and grabbed his pipe. He lit it and began puffing as he considered the note. Omar turned to look at him with a smile but saw the serious look on Myles’ face.

  “Come on, you did great, Myles. There’s no reason to worry.”

  When he said that, Myles handed Omar the note and quietly observed,

  “It seems that I’m not the only one who’s skilled at sleight of hand.”

  Omar read the note and frowned, “I take that back. We have a lot to worry about.”

  Myles showed the note to Sebastian. “I found that in my pocket when I reached for my pipe. Ragal must’ve snuck it in there while I was distracted with the illusions. She was the only one near enough to do it. Doc, how are we going to get all that stuff back? Without those things on the bike, our order is finished before it even begins.”

  Omar lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Actually, that’s not what concerns me. We can get my things back.”

  Myles cracked a goofy grin. “What’s up, Doc?”

  Omar didn’t seem to get the joke. “Ragal wrote this note in English! She knows our language -- even the word for motorcycle, something they don't even have in this dimension. Do you know what that means?”

  “Are you telling me…?”

  “Yes, as crazy as it seems, Ragal is also from Earth.”

  11

  Plans

  Kasey sat in the library of the city hall at Sarx-Ergon. Her nerves bristled as she anticipated the meeting. Kasey was a name she hadn’t used in over 400 years, and she’d almost forgotten it. But as she sat there, she thought back to when she’d been Kasey. Those were better times, and now a hope had arrived that maybe she could find her way back.

  Ragal, the Hebrew word for spy, was the only name she’d known since she arrived in Musterion. Many Musterlings spoke Greek and Hebrew, so it wasn’t unusual for people to have Greek or Hebrew names. Kasey didn’t understand why those two languages existed here, but she didn’t really care. All she knew was that she’d been a spy for Moluno for too many years. Now things had changed. She decided that she was done doing Moluno’s dirty work.

  Kasey took a sip of ale. It had a nice bite to it. Only in Sarx-Ergon could someone get a glass of ale served in a library. Though she’d tried to resist it, she’d developed the Kalat craving for raw meat, but she could never enjoy drinking blood. The ale helped her avoid the thirst that went deeper than enjoyment.

  Kasey reviewed the events that brought her to Musterion. She rubbed the number tattoo on her arm. Myles had the same tattoo. One of her Haspen informants had told her that she’d seen Omar with the same tattoo the day they had first entered Musterion. These tattoos could make people ask a lot of questions. Kasey had managed to keep her tattoo a secret up until now.

  Seeing Myles and Omar at the coliseum had brought back a rush of memories from her youth. She’d left Earth back in the year 2010. In Kalat years she was 457, about middle-aged. That year, Dr. Omar Metzger’s face had been plastered on every magazine because of that trash-run vehicle he'd invented. If her calculations were correct, it would be the year 2467 on Earth right now. Instead of being dead, Dr. Metzger was here in Musterion, which didn’t make sense. Kasey wanted answers.

  She could still remember the night she came to Musterion. Kasey’s mother was a Jew and her father an Egyptian Ambassador. By the age of 27 she’d been working as an assassin for the Egyptian government for two years. Her assignment was to kill the Israeli Prime Minister. Not only had the Prime Minister figured out that someone had poisoned his meal, he somehow knew that it was Kasey, who’d infiltrated his home disguised as a servant. Guards were searching for her, so she had fled to the lower levels, hoping to find another way out. Instead, she had found herself trapped in his basement. Footsteps clattered down the stairs as she glimpsed what she thought was a doorway out. At the top of the doorway were the Greek words, “The Life.” She had bolted through the doorway and found herself in the Maze of Musterion.


  After she figured out the maze, she had reached the same gallery with the three paintings that Myles and Omar had found. Kasey stepped through the painting with the fallen, rotted tree. She came out on the other side with some kind of goo all over her. The real Ragal had discovered her and grabbed hold of her. When Ragal touched her, Kasey took on Ragal's form. Ragal feared this strange transformation. She and her husband tried to kill Kasey, but they really hadn’t stood a chance against Kasey’s assassin’s training. Now Kasey had the added advantage of a Kalat body with newfound strength.

  After she had killed Ragal and her husband, she heard light, unsteady footsteps approaching from the adjoining tunnel. Kasey found a two-year-old child toddling toward her. “Mama.” She raised her hands to be picked up. Kasey picked up the child and wept for the first time since she was six years old. Kasey realized what a monster she’d become. She found her way to Sarx-Ergon and encountered Moluno. This horrible creature had stunned her by calling her his sister.

  Kasey, to hide the fact that she had murdered this man's sister and brother-in-law, clung to the child and pretended that she was in shock. She just stared forward and didn’t speak. She continued the ruse while doing a lot of listening. Kasey learned the language and everything she could about Ragal, Ragal’s husband Gjeno, about Moluno, Musterion, and the Kalat. Kasey finally broke her silence after three months and took on the life of Ragal. Not too long after that, Nekar, the last of the original thirteen Adam, broke into the home Kasey had stolen from Ragal and Gjeno and took Ragal’s daughter. Kasey found a note that said, “She’s not yours to keep.” For the second time since she had come to Musterion, Kasey wept.

  Moluno declared a hunt for Nekar. Anyone who followed the Council of Six and found Nekar had carte blanche to kill him as long as they brought back his body as proof. But Kasey soon learned the price of crossing Nekar. For two years the Kalat had hunted Nekar almost non-stop. One day he was seen sitting on a bench in the square at Sarx-Ergon. Word spread and the Kalat quickly formed a mob.