by Stephen Wolf
Chapter 30
The Determined Mage
Finding viable shelter so close to the crash site wasn’t easy, but the group eventually came across a small house that had only minimal damage. The fireplace was still lit, though very weakly, and numerous personal items were scattered about, signifying a hasty departure. Gabrion carried Dariak’s body to one bed while Kitalla and a mage brought Randler to a second bed. The wounded mage hopped along painfully, supported by the third mage.
The heavily accented mage introduced himself as Quereth. “Frast, bind Lica’s leg before she loses it.” He turned to Kitalla and Gabrion. “Would you mind quickly putting on some tea? We’ve had a rather trying night.”
“What happened to our friends?” Gabrion demanded. “Will they be all right?”
“I beg of you,” Quereth responded. “Tea first. Food if there is any too.”
Kitalla shrugged and went off to gather the provisions. Once Lica’s leg was bound and a few healing spells had been set in place and everyone was fed, Quereth called everyone together.
“Sit now,” he suggested. “While we take a much-needed rest, let me relay what transpired in the tower.”
Gabrion listened impatiently to the start of the tale, in which Quereth discussed how the jade itself had come into the possession of one of their brethren from an anonymous donor. They had experimented on it for a couple of weeks without success, until one remembered having seen one of their previous prisoners—who turned out to be Dariak, which had surprised them once they recognized his reappearance—communing with a shard. The lead mage had pulled the energies from within, and the shard’s power escaped violently, and then the rest of them circled around the room to subdue the unleashed power. But of the twelve mages who had begun the process, only the three of them in the room were left.
“Along the way,” Quereth continued, “your companion arrived, but we could not help him, since we needed to redirect the lightning blasts. He tried several variations of spells to quell the magic from the jade, but nothing worked. My compatriots were falling, as was the tower. It was our hope to stop the jade from destroying the city, but we realized we were doomed. Your fellow then made one last effort and drew the energy through himself, and the shock struck the jade, effectively neutralizing it, but then your friend collapsed to the ground. Dead.”
Gabrion and Kitalla both leaned forward. “But he was breathing just now,” Gabrion argued.
Quereth nodded slowly. “Remarkable. I never would have imagined. As frantic as the rest of the night was up to that point, it was at this moment that the real miracles happened.” He paused to drink his tea and ask his companions how they were faring.
Gabrion grunted in annoyance. “You do intend to reveal the nature of these ‘miracles’?”
The older man smiled slowly. “Patience now. As I said, it was a trying night. A moment to compose my thoughts, if you will.”
It was only minutes, but to Gabrion it felt like hours before the man continued his tale…
Randler watched in horror as Dariak’s body drew in the lightning blast, then collapsed in a heap on the ground. The entire tower was shaking terribly, and the one remaining mage was unable to offer any assistance.
“Dariak, no!” the bard screamed. Scrambling desperately, Randler made his way over to Dariak’s body, feeling around for a pulse that was no longer there. The mage’s deep-blue eyes were unfocused and unblinking, his chest unmoving and without breath.
Devastated and angry, Randler pulled Dariak into an embrace, then set his lifeless body down gently before turning to the altar and the lightning jade that sat upon it. He grabbed the jade, his whole essence focused sharply, and he turned back to Dariak with it, pressing it against him. Quereth, across the room, saw the bard trying to summon the power of the jade and stepped forward to stop him, fearing he would release the lightning storm yet again.
Randler ignored the approaching mage, whose progress was hindered by the walls that shook and trembled erratically. He knew it was pointless to try to help Dariak, but he preferred they die together, and not because of the jade itself. The bard picked up the shadow, water, and lightning jades and pressed them all against the earth jade that was inside Dariak’s tunic, so close to his heart. Randler could feel the resonances of the jades as they welcomed one another, but he sent his thoughts deeply into the shadow jade, pleading with it to pull the darkness away from Dariak.
The jades pulsed more deliberately with Randler’s request. He wondered if the shards could truly communicate his will between them or if they just responded to his own energies. He closed his eyes and begged for the return of Dariak’s life, knowing it was an impossible appeal but seeking it anyway. A bright light bore through his eyelids, and he opened them to peer at the jades in his hands.
The lightning jade glowed vibrantly, with sparks leaping across its surface. Randler’s fingers went numb from the bursts of electricity, but he tightened his grip so he wouldn’t drop the shards. The light intensified with each pulse of the jades, until it was so blinding that Randler had to look away.
Quereth realized he couldn’t intervene in time, so he started casting his protection spell again, waiting for the lightning to blaze out of control.
Once the light reached a crescendo, a bolt of electricity shot forth into Dariak’s chest. The mage’s whole body lurched with the impact. The light built up again, and a second bolt blasted into Dariak’s heart. After the fourth shock, Randler heard a sound he’d feared he would never hear again: Dariak breathed deeply. After the mage was resuscitated, the lightning jade dimmed and pulsed softly in time with his heartbeat. It took a few more moments for Dariak to open his eyes.
Randler pulled him close and hugged him, then looked around at the shaking walls that dropped more and more rocks as the moments ticked by. “At least we can be together for this,” he said apologetically.
Dariak was disoriented and weak, but he pulled himself upright as the tremors increased. A major crash sounded as other portions of the tower imploded across the way. A quick glance showed him that large sections of the tower had collapsed completely, pulling on the surrounding walls and slowly toppling them. The chamber they were in rocked precariously and shuddered dangerously.
There wasn’t much he could do, but Dariak was determined to try. He clutched for the earth jade and called desperately for its help. They were surrounded on all sides by stone, which was within the jade’s providence. He had already fortified a few sections of the chamber to keep it intact. Now he extended the call for even greater power. The earth jade hummed within his pocket, and he felt the energies reaching out, but alone, they weren’t enough.
Dariak saw the awed look on the other mage’s face, and he called out for help. “Together, now, or we don’t stand a chance!” With that, Randler helped him to stand, and Dariak and Quereth faced off, the older mage mimicking the younger. Dariak’s hands and feet swept about as he shouted the words of his spell over the clamor that echoed around them. “Forticulus combrinor cagarion. Hossrathen derrethock saei.”
The room itself teetered sharply toward the inner column of the tower, and at last its inertia was too great to recover. The whole structure fell over like an enormous tree, crushing all the rest of the floors in its wake and splattering itself across the city.
Dariak’s spell, however, called to the stone immediately around them, and with the aid of the other mage, they were able to pull fragments of wall together into a stony cage that kept the rest of the tower from crushing them. They were tossed around inside, however, and Dariak and Randler were knocked unconscious in the tumult.
Once the major rumblings stopped, Quereth sent a few exploratory spells into the mage and bard, assessing internal damage, then followed the cursory glances with some healing that would allow them to recover over time. He turned to the other mages in the chamber, finding only two other survivors. Together, they
worked to open the wall to the air before they all suffocated or the fortification spell faltered and the walls fell in.
“And that’s where you came in,” Quereth finished. “Without these two, we all would have perished. I care little for their own intentions with the jade, but your friend, as you called him, seems to have an innate knowledge, and there must be some reason for it.”
“He does,” Gabrion acknowledged, but didn’t elaborate. “How badly hurt are they?”
“Not badly at all, considering the circumstances. The three of us will tend to their wounds after a brief respite. You’ll all be ready for travel soon.”
Quereth’s estimate was accurate. The three mages spent the majority of the early morning hours casting a wide variety of healing spells, curing all the major wounds the team had sustained. Dariak received the most attention for his ailments, until he banished them from his side, eager to gather his thoughts and accept that he was truly still alive, despite it all.
Gabrion used most of the following day to help the citizens and Pindington guards while his companions took care of their various needs. The entire city pulled together to help those families who had lost loved ones in the tower’s collapse, though all the while, complaints against magic echoed everywhere. The guards recognized Gabrion as one of the prisoners from the tower, but they made no effort to detain him, especially when they chanced upon him digging away large braces of stone and rescuing people still trapped within the debris.
“Surprised to see you still hanging around,” one of them commented.
The warrior finished moving a large stone and dusted himself off before examining the speaker, but he couldn’t place exactly where he knew the guard from or if they had ever actually met at all. Perhaps the man had only seen the wanted posters and thought it surprising any criminal would tarry. “These people need help,” he responded simply.
“Indeed, but it isn’t every man who would risk his freedom for such a task.”
Gabrion shrugged his massive shoulders and gestured to the rocks behind him. “You’re welcome to try taking me in, but I’d prefer we work together on this instead. What say you?”
The man grunted and clapped his hands together. “I say we get digging.” He introduced himself as Ordren, one of the captains of Pindington’s defense patrols. The two of them spent a good portion of the day at hard labor, and other guards who witnessed their cooperation realized that Gabrion was no longer to be treated as a felon.
Randler spent his afternoon in a very different state of mind. So many lives were shattered in Pindington that mourning would carry on for long periods of time. He went through town, plucking his lute and crooning softly to the needy souls, stopping in open streets as crowds gathered for a distraction from their personal woes. He sang of spiritual journeys of the dearly departed, of glorious afterlives that promised peace and warmth for all eternity. Upon request, he increased the tempo and brought cheer and laughter to some who needed a dose of levity. Yet everywhere he went, he touched the hearts of the men, women, and children he passed, easing their pain if only for a few minutes at a time.
Kitalla’s day focused on the morrow. She returned to the decimated blacksmith’s shop, absconding with various weaponry that lay strewn about the ground. She bartered with the armorer and flirted with a tavern master for travel packs of durable food. As she went, she listened to the tidings of war to the west, knowing they would soon be heading in that general direction. The people were worried that the war might extend as far as Pindington, adding to the horror they had just experienced, but many argued that if the fighting ever came their way, not only would it be a long time off but they could always take to the ships and leave.
What troubled Kitalla the most were the groups of distraught citizens talking about the mages in the tower and their role in the destruction of the city. More and more people turned their grief into anger, and a rising sense of unrest emanated everywhere. The desperate men and women yearned to find those responsible for the devastation, and accusations rose all around. Some took shreds of posters from around the city and turned the blame toward the featured criminals. Disguised, Kitalla slipped into numerous conversations and realized that they needed to all get out of the city as swiftly as possible.
Dariak, on the other hand, remained with the other mages, resting and keeping out of sight. He described the pain he had felt when the lightning crashed into him and killed him, then the added pain he’d felt when the same power returned his life to him. He never wanted to experience such a thing again. The four of them spoke of their spells, and Lica, Frast, and Quereth all admitted to witnessing some of Dariak’s abilities during his imprisonment within the tower, as well as their wholehearted disappointment when he had first escaped.
“We were learning so much from you,” Lica said, stroking her hand through her graying hair.
“If we only had a means of practicing without having to go to such lengths,” Frast added. “We’ve all taken turns playing the part of prisoner just so we could have the chance to cast at will.”
Dariak’s brows scrunched together. “You couldn’t practice?”
“Not like that,” Quereth acknowledged. “We could keep our skills refined in case of emergency, but we were not to free cast like the prisoners.”
“No,” Frast agreed. “My brother let the powers get to him, and after watching many other mages go wild within the prison, he started experimenting. The other guards reported him, and he was slain in his sleep. So we must always keep secret and adhere to the confines of the job.”
“Then why let prisoners do what they will?” Dariak asked.
“In the event they find a way of turning the tides,” Lica answered. “Our king would not deny a true opportunity, but I think that successful mage would find himself at the front line to do his work, dying rather quickly once it was over.”
Dariak shrugged. “I’ve said it countless times since journeying here: I don’t understand your king. Listen, trouble is brewing out there and there isn’t much time to prepare, so could I ask a boon of you, to show me some of your healing spells? Mine are rather feeble.”
For the rest of the day, Dariak paired off with the mages, rotating partners throughout the day and soaking in whatever spells he could in the short time. Meanwhile, the mages prepared a hearty meal for the four travelers. They brought in a large table from another house and cooked a wide range of delectable foods, from fruit spreads to lemon-dipped chicken with sides of wild vegetables seared to perfection. Wine flowed readily, complementing the worldly flavors that each mage concocted for Dariak and his companions.
“A toast,” Quereth announced halfway into the feast that night. “To a wondrous mage with insight beyond that of the greatest sages. Without your bravery, we three would have perished. Without your gifts, we all would have joined the tower in its final throes. Without your wit, the lightning jade would likely still rampage upon this city.”
Dariak let his cheeks burn red, raising his glass and sipping deeply. “I regret I could not help more of your brethren.”
“Yet if I read the energies correctly, brother, you will,” Quereth returned, receiving curious looks from the others. He nodded sagaciously and raised his glass briefly toward Dariak. “The jades resonate with you. There is a distinct connection. A mage of your potential has the means of breaking our chains here in Kallisor and opening the land wide for our magic to reach from shore to mountain to distant valley.”
Kitalla breathed a heavy sigh. “No, I’m not so sure that’s right. Not after the disaster here. Do you really think people will want magic blossoming left and right after a crazy lightning storm killed easily over a thousand people when it knocked down the tower? They’re already rallying together to find those responsible.”
Randler yearned to voice his agreement with her assessment, but Dariak was finally speaking to him again, so he remained silent. Instead, Gabrio
n filled the awkward silence that followed. “Dariak saved you three—well, five, really with himself and Randler—but Kitalla’s right. The rest of the people see this as magic going awry and bringing the end of their livelihoods. And they’re right. It was indeed magic that brought this all about. It has to stop.”
Quereth shook his head. “If we were allowed to practice our craft, we would have had a means in place to prevent this tragedy. The people will come to understand.”
“You’re right,” Dariak muttered softly, staring at his wine. He realized from the confused expressions that they didn’t know with whom he sided. “Kitalla and Gabrion have the right of it. I’ve seen too much of this wretched country to think anything else. If I could have kept the tower from falling, then maybe. But no. No, even with the power of the jades, I wasn’t able to save these people. I couldn’t do more than rescue a handful of us, no more. This won’t further our cause, brother. We can already hear them rising up in anger. I am sorry.”
“But we’ll make them understand!”
Dariak simply shook his head. “Coercion won’t help either.”
“That isn’t what I—” Quereth stopped himself, then sighed. “Then what do you suggest?”
There was silence for a time as everyone looked around, seeking inspiration. Dariak’s eyes settled on Randler. “You want the jades hidden away, untouched ever again by mages. But how will that help us?”
The other mages erupted at this announcement. The jades were physical manifestations of their innate abilities; to cast them away was unthinkable. Besides, Dariak had used their powers to save their lives. Such a gift could not be squandered.
The bard tolerated a noisy barrage for some time before the anger ran its course. He simply endured it, accepting the hurled insults and awaiting his chance to answer. When he spoke, his tone was as calm as Dariak’s had been, as if they were discussing the best types of flowers to accent a front yard. “Our nations have seen torment since the beginning of magic, once our forefathers left the gods behind. We abandoned them, and they left us to fend for ourselves. Our ancestors found the paths to magic, and our land has ever been divided.”
