Mad Mage: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 3 (Ranger Series)

by Salvador Mercer

  It was the truth, for the most part. At least, she felt that she could have been asleep when the deed was done. At any rate, she didn’t kill the man, and that was what was most important. She had no idea if the wizard had a way to detect if she were telling the truth or lying, but she expected not, considering how paranoid their society was.

  Her contemplation was interrupted by Darker again. “Kill ’er, Master, before she killz one of us.” Then, looking past the wizard at Silis, he said, “Or betters, have dat Balarian do the deed.”

  Silis did look at the groveling warden with disgust plainly visible, though not fear of executing the action that Darker recommended. Silis let his gaze linger for a second before lowering his eyes to Jakar. “What do you intend to do?”

  Jakar thought for a moment before responding. “This is quite perplexing, and something tells me there is danger here, but from who and why is beyond me.”

  “What did the High-Mage say?” Silis asked.

  “You know,” Jakar explained, “I was unable to discuss the matter with him. He was preoccupied with other matters of state.”

  Silis waited for a moment before asking something that chilled Dareen’s soul yet again. “Shall I kill her, then?”

  Dareen frowned at Darker, who suddenly lit up with a huge grin across his face as his entire head bobbed up and down in agreement. The man seemed too eager to get rid of her, and she started to have her own thoughts of how she could rid herself of this warden. Jakar said, “Not yet. I fear this mystery, as well as the question of whether or not she has arcane powers, would be forever unsolved if she were dead, at least right now.”

  “So then we are back to square one,” Silis noted.

  “It would seem so.” Jakar suddenly stood, and Darker fell backward on his rear at the unexpected action by the wizard. “I want a new guard brought here right away. Place another one in the hallway and see to it that hourly checks are performed.”

  “Yes, Master,” Darker said, scrambling to his feet as both Jakar and Silis looked at the hapless warden with contempt and disdain.

  “Do not abuse the prisoner . . . yet.” Jakar warned, and then with a last look at Dareen, he left the room, followed by Silis, and Darker scrambled to get behind them and lock the door, never turning his back on her.

  After the thud of the door latch being thrown and the door locked, it took nearly an hour for a guard to show up. Dareen didn’t think that an hour constituted “right away,” but she wasn’t the one in charge. The new guard sat on the chair by the door and stared at her. She felt this would be most awkward when the time came to take care of her personal business. The guard rotation appeared to be done on a four-hour basis.

  When Alister had left, he indicated that his plan for the demise of the High-Mage appeared to be a trap whereby Dareen would most likely perish in the attempt. They were going to use her as some sort of bait and magically booby trap her so that the High-Mage would perish in some sort of magical conflagration. She herself would carry something enchanted to make this all happen. The key was to make the High-Mage take an interest in her existence, and so the rebel wizard needed to make things happen and attribute them to her.

  “You are already dead,” the man had said to her. “Why not take revenge on the wizard who led the attack on Ulatha?”

  Technically, that wasn’t true. It was Am-Ohkre who led the attack as an Arch-Mage, but Am-Tor, once Ke-Tor, was the lead wizard in support of Am-Ohkre. Close enough, the wizard most likely reasoned, especially with the old mage dead. That left only Am-Shee as the sole remaining and true heir to the Kesh leadership position of High-Mage.

  Dareen’s head hurt from trying to understand the various reasons and rationale that the man had shared with her. In his mind, he was trying to obtain some cooperation from her, though he didn’t seem to understand that his threat of death had already had the desired effect. She lay down, wondering what the next day would bring, glad that she didn’t have to deal with the guards that day.

  She awoke when Darker started to scream. It was morning and the sun had yet to fully rise, but it illuminated the entire city with indirect sunlight. She could see easily enough in the dim light, which was diffuse and growing as the sun prepared to rise fully. Dareen attempted to orient herself to the man’s location and gain a sense of what was happening. She saw him glare at her from the open doorway, and then he slammed the door shut and she heard his footsteps as he ran down the hallway, shouting with alarm.

  A quick glance at the side of the door showed the guard slumped over dead, yet still seated in his chair. The purple hue of his skin gave testament to the man’s demise. Dareen looked around to see if there was any sign of Alister or that he had even been there, but she saw nothing.

  It took a long time before anyone else showed up. Darker opened the door and refused to enter, simply pointing at the dead guard from the hallway. As expected, Jakar entered, but there was no sign of Silis.

  “Do not stand out there. Come check the man for a pulse,” Jakar ordered.

  “Ez dead, he iz. Can’t you see dat, Master?” Darker practically shouted from the doorway. “She’z dun it again, she haz.” The man pointed a finger at her.

  Jakar looked her way and then walked over to prod the dead guard with his staff. Satisfied that the man’s condition was precisely as Darker had noted, the wizard walked over to her cell door and murmured arcane words of lore. His staff lit up, and he waved it over the entrance, looking at the floor on both sides of the iron-barred gate. “Interesting.”

  “What iz it, Master?” Darker said, looking fervently between the wizard and Dareen herself. Dareen usually slept on the far corner away from the gate. She unconsciously put as much distance between herself and the only way into or out of her cell.

  “Summon Silis and tell him to bring his trackers,” Jakar said, inspecting the room.

  Darker complied willingly, happy to leave the room to the wizard, and to Dareen, it appeared as if the man was alone with her, not something she had expected. The wizard actually started to search the room, using his staff and its light-blue glowing gemstone to sweep across the floor, walls, and finally the door. When he had completed his sweep, he didn’t address Dareen at all and waited patiently for his last order to be fulfilled.

  The sound of dogs barking came to her ears, and in short order, a pair of large dogs accompanied by two Balarian handlers appeared just outside the now wide-open door. Silis entered the room, while Darker, peering around the edge of the doorway, did not. “So the trap was sprung?” the Balarian assassin asked Jakar, ignoring Dareen.

  “Sort of,” he said without looking directly at the man.

  “What does that mean?” Silis asked in a sinister tone.

  “It means,” Jakar said, taking one last look around the room, “that I cannot find any magical traces of an intruder, and my latest charm on the iron gate shows it was not opened in any way. I want you to use your trackers on the dead guard to see if they can locate a scent to track.”

  Silis nodded and then ordered the handlers to initiate a hunt. “Smell him out.”

  The two Balarians nodded in unison and brought their dogs into the room. The animals were straining at the leash, and they started to bark as they were led to the guard only a few feet inside the room. “Identify,” both guards said one after the other, and the dogs stopped barking and started to sniff in the area they were led to, primarily at and around the dead guard. They took only seconds to identify a scent, and then started to pull their handlers out the door, resuming their barking.

  “It appears they have something,” Silis noted. With a nod from Jakar, Silis did the same to the handlers, who let their dogs pull them out the door and down the hallway to the left. Dareen couldn’t see much else.

  The assassin followed the pair out of the room, leaving Jakar, who appeared to follow suit. Once in the doorway, the wizard turned to face Dareen, saying, “If we find your conspirator and you did not inform us of this fact, I will kill you
myself.”

  Dareen stared as Jakar disappeared to the left, following the Balarians. The last thing she saw and heard was Darker slowly closing the door as he said, “Time’z up, wood-witch.”

  The sliding iron bar on the other side clanged as it locked. Perhaps Darker was correct. Perhaps her time had finally run out.

  Chapter 11

  Mage Immortal

  “Mother of Agon,” Malik said, sucking in the air as he looked upon the Kesh mage who was Isolda’s client. The old man wore the usual garb of the Kesh ruling class dominated by their magic-users, but the man’s skin appeared to be mummified, and his bones stuck out from his thin, taunt skin, making the man look as if he had died and been resurrected. Malik didn’t know it, but that wasn’t far from the truth.

  The old man peered at him with beady eyes before speaking. “Spoken as a true believer.”

  Collette had brought her hands to her mouth and squinted her eyes, and then made the sign of warding, even if it could be taken as offensive to the magic-user. “Mother help us,” she said.

  “I warned you,” Isolda said to the mage.

  The mage nodded. “It could not be helped. I must have an audience with the Ulathan.”

  They were standing in a large chamber that was built under an old villa deep in the side of the hilltop where Balax stood. The spiral stone stairwell was musty with decay and death, and the inside of the chamber gave an appearance of a tomb. There was even something that looked like a coffin or esophagus on a raised dais behind the mage. Isolda had convinced the pair to follow her to this place where her client resided.

  “What’s that smell?” Malik shifted gears as the initial shock of the mage’s appearance passed.

  “It is a bit musty down here,” the mage said.

  Malik fanned the air in front of his nose, and Collette did the same, taking her hands from her mouth. “Why are we here?” Malik finally asked, his face contorted as he tried to inhale shallowly.

  The man started to pace slightly in front of them, putting his bony arms behind his back and clasping his gnarled hands together. His head tilted down slightly as if in thought, and he began to speak even as he walked. “Azor summoned me several days ago. He informed me of your mission and instructed me to assist you. He lost track of you once you left Tallist, as the Dark Queen interfered with his vision.”

  “So you’re my contact, then, in Balaria?” Malik said, not quite sure what he was expecting.

  “I am,” the old man continued. “Our master is in need and requires your assistance. I am here to help you obtain an artifact that will allow you to take the staff to him, as well as allow him to wrest control of the dark servants who serve the queen. Then he will be able to enact your revenge.”

  Malik pondered the man’s words for a moment, but they brought more questions, and he was confused. This fact was not lost on the mage. Malik stated, “This makes no sense.”

  “What do you not understand?” the mage asked. At this point, both Collette and Isolda were observers.

  “I understand that you are my contact, but not how you communicate with or even know Azor, why you refer to him as our master, how you know of this artifact, who this queen is you have referred to twice, and certainly I have no idea why you smell as if you died a long time ago, yet here you stand speaking to me.” Malik kept his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Fair enough, but before we continue, I suggest we do so in a more comfortable environment that will not distract from our conversation. Also, it is rude to our guests to expect them to stand for an extended period of time while we converse.” The mage then motioned back to the staircase and turned to Isolda. “I take it the compound is secure?”

  “It always is,” she said, facing the man.

  “Good. Let us go up and enjoy the view, then,” the mage said. He turned and walked back to the raised dais, where he reached behind it and brought out a metallic staff. He used it as a walking stick and returned, and then smiled at them.

  Malik shrugged but motioned for the Balarian women to go first. Isolda led the way, followed by Collette, and then Malik insisted the mage go next. The determination to guard his back was strong, and the man decided that arguing the matter was a waste of time.

  Once above, they moved to the patio that overlooked the city. The many torches burned below along various streets, and many of the ships anchored along the wharf had lanterns lit. It was quite the sight for the Ulathan, who wasn’t used to seeing so much commerce and activity. The mage motioned for them to be seated on a wooden bench facing the harbor below. There was a side chair, and he moved to take a seat there after the trio had been seated, with Malik pulling his sword and laying it across his lap. The man set his staff into a manmade hole in the patio, where it stood upright next to him.

  “Comfortable?” he asked. “My apologies for not offering you refreshments, but we are out of supplies at the moment.”

  “We are fine, though thank you for the apology,” Malik said.

  Isolda said, “You haven’t been properly introduced.”

  “Ah yes, quite right. I do believe the shock of my appearance interrupted the pleasantries and formalities when first we began, though I already know Malik Terrel of Ulatha. I am Kaynin of Kesh, and you would be?” he said to Collette.

  She blushed slightly, which baffled Malik, and then said, “I am Collette Corsin of Balaria.”

  Kaynin nodded at the other woman. “You have met Isolda of Balaria as well.” Isolda nodded back, and then the man resumed. “I believe some answers are in order before we continue?”

  “I think I asked more than one question,” Malik said.

  “You asked five questions, to be exact,” Kaynin said. “Let us start with the first. How did I communicate with Azor. Do you not know what a critir is?”

  “I do,” Malik said simply, not trusting any Kesh magic-user, so he kept his answer simple and concise.

  “Then I have answered part of your first question, which was how do we communicate. We do so through our critirs. I do believe some simple folk call them crystal balls. The second part of your first question was how do I know Azor. I met him in the academy when I was chosen to apprentice, and he was an upcoming wizard. Over the years, we worked together on many tasks, and our duties brought us together often. That is how we know each other.”

  Malik nodded. “Good, do go on.”

  Kaynin returned the nod. “Your second question was why I refer to him as our master. Perhaps I misunderstand your current relationship with Azor, but during my last discussion with him, he led me to believe that you are in his service, ergo he is your master. The fact that you are here bears that out, and as to the plural usage of our, in our society, we Kesh refer to those in a higher position of our hierarchy as ‘master,’ thus I used the term ‘our master.’ Satisfied?”

  Malik was starting to feel as if this man was condescending, but the information was not only relevant, it was revealing as well. He knew scant little about Azor, the Kesh society, and the order of the magic-using caste, and less of political affiliations and foreign relations, so he would just as soon keep the man talking in spite of his tone, so he answered curtly again. “Yes, go on.”

  “You asked about my knowledge of this artifact. For one thing, I am a Kesh mage. We study the arcane. We study history. We study the makings of relics and artifacts, especially those of power. We study those in power, those who have wielded it, and those who may wield it in the future.

  “This particular object is not unknown. It belongs to the death worshippers of the Akun cult. They had these items at their major temples. Most have fallen into ruin. One remains, though it also has been abandoned, and the location is not far from here. I cannot know for certain until someone goes to the altar of the Akun temple and searches for the Scepter of Death. Only then can we know for sure if the artifact resides where it is suspected to be.

  “In the past, the scepter would be useless to anyone who was not a priest of Akun. However, I
believe that Azor has, after many centuries, unlocked the secret to using it for his own purposes.”

  “What is this scepter?” Malik asked, leaning forward now and listening intently while absentmindedly fiddling with the flat of his sword with his index finger.

  “It was the rod of power from which the Akun clerics drew their power. During special times, it allowed the priests to rule over the undead,” Kaynin said.

  Malik nodded and looked down at his sword, deep in thought, and then he spoke aloud to no one in particular, as he understood better the Lich’s motives. “So he can command the undead and clear a path for me to return to him the staff he so desperately desires.”

  “You seem to have answered the motive for the question as well,” Kaynin said, this time his tone one of appreciation and approval.

  Malik looked up, not realizing at first that his thoughts had been revealed. He mentally reviewed what he had just said, and then felt it wasn’t anything to worry about. He asked Kaynin, “So what other of my questions can you answer?”

  Before the mage could answer, Collette chimed in. “Begging your pardon, Master Kaynin, but are you referring to the haunted mountain?”

  “I am,” the mage answered.

  Collette’s face went pale, and then she looked at Malik. “I was just telling ya about the place, Mister Malik, sir. You can’t go up there. No one comes back alive.”

  Malik nodded and graced her with a smile before saying, “I’m sure it’s just a wives’ tale.”

  “Unfortunately, it is not,” Kaynin said, his face becoming stern.

  “You can’t be serious,” Malik said dubiously.

  “We will discuss this momentarily after I have finished with your questions.” The mage looked at Collette, who nodded and put her hands back down on her lap.

  “As you wish,” Malik said, deferring to the man and noting his single-minded dedication to being completely thorough in what he did.