Descent Unto Dark: The White Mage Saga #3 (The Chronicles of Lumineia)

by Ben Hale

  He flashed a grin. "Ricks was so focused on you he didn't notice, or we'd both be in trouble."

  "Thanks for keeping it from exploding in my face."

  He waved the assistance aside. "Ricks is a hothead. He'll calm down over the weekend, and I'll go over the material with you so you don't feel behind."

  "I don't care about a grade," Tess sighed. "But I do need to learn the magic. Thanks."

  "I know how you feel. With the Dark killing aurens it's hard to think about homework. Just remember that there are a lot of people happy to have you back. Just look around and you will notice that many of the students are proud of you, even if they don't understand. I'm one of them." He gave her a hug, causing her to wince.

  "What's wrong with your arm?" he asked.

  She hesitated, and then told him about Rook. Her arm began to ache as she told him the story. When she finished his expression had tightened.

  "You need to go to the healing school and have it looked at. Disease magic can be lethal if not treated. A few years ago there was a kid who accidentally cursed one of his classmates. The boy lost an arm because of it. Even the healers couldn't regrow the limb."

  Tess shook her head. "I've got way too much to do right now."

  "Promise me you will go today," he said.

  She made a show of relenting, and they parted ways. Halfway to the meal hall she changed her mind and turned toward the healing school. Even if it got out that she couldn't heal herself, it wouldn't be wise to risk her health for the sake of her pride. Her arm throbbed, as if confirming the severity of the curse inside her.

  The pain caused her to accelerate.

  Chapter 10: The Cancerian Curse

  Tess arrived at the healing school and entered through a side door. Lined with white and light pink, the color of healing magic, the curving halls were lit with embedded light magic. Unlike a regular hospital, the mage healing school did not have a desk. Students needing assistance simply chose a room, and a teacher soon arrived with a few students. Depending on the severity of the injury or illness, the teacher would demonstrate or allow the students to do the healing.

  From experience Tess knew that there were more private rooms on the higher levels for more grievous injuries. On her way to an empty room, Tess passed a flyer with a broken arm, a fire student with burns on his face, and a pair of students with the flu. Selecting the next empty room, Tess stepped inside and took a seat on the raised chair. Then she passed her hand over the techno orb floating on a pedestal.

  She only had to wait a minute before she heard several students arguing outside her room. She couldn't catch every word, but the gist was clear. No one wanted to see her. After an exasperated comment, a woman entered alone.

  "Hello, Tess, my name is Professor Jenkins. What seems to be the problem?"

  Tess tried to ignore the faces peeking into the room. "I had an . . . encounter with another mage, and I think he cursed my arm."

  Ms. Jenkins pursed her lips. "And you couldn't heal it yourself? I understand you have received some tutelage in healing magic."

  "I have, but this was beyond me."

  "Let's take a look, shall we?"

  She reached out and touched the offered arm, her eyes blinking rapidly as she looked into Tess's arm. Then she snatched her hands back. Swallowing, she said, "I will need the assistance of another healer." She dodged from the room with a quickness that belied her rotund form.

  Surprised, Tess was forced to wait until Professor Jenkins returned with a familiar face.

  "Hello, Tess," Leah said. "I was on a training visit for the day and Ms. Jenkins asked me to consult. Would you mind following me to a more private room?"

  Tess felt a wave of relief. Leah was one of Hawk's top leaders in the Guild, so she didn't have to worry about saying something untoward. At the same time Professor Jenkins’ behavior inspired the opposite reaction. Fretting and rubbing the back of her hand, she shooed the other students away even as she directed Leah and Tess where to go.

  "Is it that bad?" Tess asked in an undertone.

  Leah merely nodded, prompting Tess to feel a wave of gratitude for Shorn. A minute later she was laying on a bed in one of the private rooms. Adorned with a pair of memory frames and dual chairs, the room was sparsely furnished, giving little to draw her attention as Leah probed her arm.

  "Can I assist?" Professor Jenkins asked, her voice brimming with worry. "My dear, I've never seen a . . ."

  "It would be best if I could concentrate," Leah replied. "This curse is too far advanced for demonstration. Please close the door and ensure we are not disturbed."

  Professor Jenkins wrung her hands but left the room. "Dear me, dear me . . ."

  The door closed with a click, and Leah said, "I suppose this came from Rook?"

  Tess nodded. "What is it?"

  "A cancerian curse," she replied. "Given another few hours it would have eaten your arm from the inside, and we would have been forced to remove it. By tomorrow it would have reached your heart. Then there would be nothing we could do."

  Tess swallowed. "So you can fix it?"

  "I do believe I can," Leah replied.

  "Can I help?"

  "By giving me silence."

  Tess released a breath and tried to relax. She wanted to ask Leah several questions, but resigned herself to wait. Every few seconds her arm trembled, as if her bone had turned soft. She looked down once, and saw vile green seeping out of the pores of her skin. She swallowed against the surge of vomit, and looked to the ceiling while mentally listing the homework she had to do. Then a stabbing pain caused her to twitch.

  "Be still," Leah admonished.

  Tess struggled to keep still as sweat beaded her forehead. She couldn't resist, and looked again. To her horror her skin was split to the bone. Green and yellow liquids were being squeezed from the bone like water from a sponge. They filled the wound, and Leah flicked her hand.

  The liquids flowed from the wound and dripped to the floor. They lingered for a moment before they were absorbed into the material, leaving pristine white behind. Tess looked away, breathing hard to avoid throwing up.

  "Count backwards from one hundred," Leah advised.

  She did, and used the numbers like an anchor to fight the pain, fatigue, and nausea. She reached zero and started again. And then again. For almost an hour she counted, fighting to stay conscious. After a while Stel woke up and began to rub her shoulder with a small paw, crooning. Then finally the pain began to recede.

  Tess looked down and saw her skin knitting back together. A wave of weakness washed over her, which she recognized as Leah drawing on Tess's body to heal itself. A moment later Leah was done, and she sat back with a sigh.

  "I believe I got it all," she said.

  Weak, sick, and hot, Tess asked, "What was it?"

  "The cancerian curse alters the base makeup of bone, creating a cancerous growth that grows exceptionally fast. Once it has suffused throughout a bone there is no cure. You are fortunate you came in when you did."

  "I almost didn't," Tess said ruefully. She tried to sit up, but groaned and remained where she was. Leah flashed an understanding smile.

  "I had to use much of your strength, so I'm afraid you are stuck here until tomorrow morning."

  "But I have things to do," she protested.

  "You have to rest," Leah corrected. "Or that bone won't heal properly. It'll take an hour before it will be hard again."

  "How could Rook do that so easily?" Tess asked.

  Leah sighed. "Those who practice disease magic turn away from the healing we are meant to perform. For most of us it is considered abominable to curse another in such a fashion. Rook, however, is an assassin who finds pleasure in killing, and pain. He probably found amusement in placing such a curse on you."

  "How can I stop it in the future?"

  Leah steepled her hands. "What have you been taught about healing magic? You should know the immutable laws by now."

  Tess nodded, and recited t
he first lesson she'd learned. "One can only be healed by energy from within. A body has limited energy from which to draw. Exceeding the body's limit causes death."

  "Straight from the book," Leah said. "Now, what they don't teach at Tryton's is that diseases can be put into one's body. Since disease is an organism, a healing mage can manipulate it just as easily as they can the human body. A skilled healer can, with practice, cause injury and sickness as readily as they can heal it. The only way to stop it is by being as strong with healing magic."

  Tess groaned. "But I can barely heal myself of minor things."

  "If you cannot master yourself, you will never be the master of others."

  "You sound like Hawk."

  "That's because he trained me as well as you."

  Tess frowned. "But he's not a healing mage."

  "All magic operates on the same principles. Although we do not share the same talent we both understand what it means to control our abilities." Leah leaned forward. "When you can view all magics as you do fire and gravity, you will find that your control in each is amplified a hundredfold."

  Tess let out sigh. "I appreciate the advice."

  Leah smiled and leaned back. "Now, what's this I hear about a summons?" Leah skewered her with a look.

  Tess explained about the golden cat, and the date of her hearing. Rather than ease her concerns, speaking it out loud had the opposite effect. When she finished, Leah's expression had shifted to one of concern.

  "Mallian is a man that demands justice in every setting. If he is your Magistrate, your defense will have to be flawless."

  "I don't have time to plan a defense," Tess protested. "I have to find a way to stop Alice."

  "Nevertheless, you will have to defend your actions, or risk having the Magtherian exile you. Think of it as an opportunity to convince those highest within our government that what you did was necessary for their survival. As Hawk would say, we fight the battle that is thrust upon us, not the one we wish to join."

  Tess released a troubled sigh. "Do I get an attorney or something?"

  "You are allowed an advocate, yes," she replied. "But it might be better for you to go alone. As the oracle, arriving by yourself will demonstrate confidence, and a maturity greater than your years."

  "But how am I going to defend myself?"

  Leah released a laugh and rose to her feet. "How should I know? I'm just a healer. I will say that the truth is typically the best. Mage trials aren't like auren ones. They are much simpler. Now, rest. I will check on you later."

  "Can't the Guild help me?"

  Leah paused at the door. "We are helping, Tess, but the Harbingers are systematically hunting us. We believe in you, and believe you have the strength to defend yourself. It's imperative that those in the Magtherian see you as the leader you are meant to be. If we attempted to step in on your behalf it would only reinforce the image that you are a teenage girl."

  "So I'm on my own?"

  Leah regarded her for a long moment. "You are the Oracle, Tess, and so by necessity will always stand alone. If you cannot defend your choices then no one can." A small smile creased her features. "But I will see what I can do. Now, rest."

  The door closed with a soft click, leaving Tess to her thoughts. As exhausted as she was, sleep did not come. More than once she considered if she could have acted differently when faced with Alice and the Dark. Each time she came up with the same answer.

  But could she convince the Magtherian of that?

  Chapter 11: From the Shadows

  Clad in his customary black cloak, the Swordsman stalked through the jungles of North Korea. With his vision enhanced by his magic it was a simple matter to spot the sentries. Drawing his sword, he rounded a tree and cut the first man down. The body collapsed into the mud, causing the second to turn in time to see the short blade take his life. Leaving them behind, the Swordsman strode forward until he reached the fence.

  Few outsiders ever made it this far into North Korea. The ones who did were typically prisoners that never got out. The country was infamous for its secrecy, poverty, and oppression, making it a prime target for assassinations.

  This would be his third visit to the country in the last decade. Each of his prior targets here had been mages seeking to hide out in the country. This would be the same, and he did not expect it to exceed his ability.

  He scanned the darkened interior of the complex, searching for signs of life. Enhanced by his vision, the sentries of the army lit up like beacons. Amplifying his strength, he leapt over the twenty-foot fence and landed inside, then climbed a guard tower. Normally he would have preferred to use his air board for the infiltration, but the information he'd gathered on the target indicated he was paranoid and had placed hexes around the complex in order to take down flyers.

  He reached the top of the tower to find two guards looking away from him. He slipped into a crouch and glided toward the nearest. The snapping of his neck alerted the other, but the Swordsman struck him in the throat, crushing his windpipe. His blade finished him before he could try to retaliate. Stepping to the edge, the Swordsman dropped from the tower and landed hard, cushioning his landing with his reinforced muscles.

  From there he circled the camp, eliminating the guards in the other four towers. Once he was free to move around the camp, he began searching for the way down. This late into the night only a handful of guards were out and about. Stalking each, he left their corpses in the dirt and moved on. Ten minutes later he found a small hut that looked out of place.

  The interior was fashioned of reinforced steel, and resembled a military installation instead of a poverty stricken village home. Devoid of decoration or furniture, the space held only a staircase leading into the earth. The Swordsman stepped past the body of the last guard and descended into the subterranean installation.

  As he reached the bottom he slowed, scanning for movement. Whereas the men outside had been aurens, those inside were likely to be mages. His sword out, he stalked down the hall. Normally he preferred a more quiet approach and didn't like to kill the guards unless it was necessary. Upon learning the truth of this particular village he'd decided on eliminating the sentries as well.

  Beneath the North Korean army uniforms, the guards above had been killers and criminals. Freed by his target, they had been employed to maintain the target’s cover. Their movements had led the Swordsman to this location. The guard's patrols had been anything but organized, making it clear they weren't regular army.

  In spite of the lack of discipline the façade was good. Aurens on the outside and mages on the inside created a dual layer of defense that hardly anyone would see past. The Swordsman was not just anyone.

  He paused at a doorway and scanned the room. Retrofitted from an abandoned North Korean bunker, the room was little more than a bed and a desk, and matched the others he'd passed. The disarray of the furniture and a half empty crate indicated that someone had been packing to leave. Perhaps Titus had learned he was a target?

  He pressed on, and passed numerous other rooms until he reached the chamber at the end. Voices drifted up to him from below, and he eased onto the landing to look at the cavernous space. Rusted metal lined the walls, while a decrepit helicopter was the only indication of what the space had been built for.

  A handful of mages were in the process of frantically loading a trio of crates. The contents included distilled food, clothing, and a collection of older style mage weapons. These resembled his own crossbow, but lacked a string. Each was built to fire needles of suppressed fire that exploded on contact.

  The Swordsman frowned. He'd expected Titus to be hiding out, not seeking to flee. What had spooked him? He was supposed to be a high ranking Harbinger.

  Regardless of his reason for running, the man was right in front of him, and distracted. It was a prime opportunity to take him down. Deciding on a course of action, the Swordsman leapt over the railing and dropped to the floor of the hanger. Releasing his strength spell, he cast an agility
charm and drew his sword.

  Surging into motion, he cut down two of them before someone cried out. Then the others reached for the weapons and opened fire. They were too late, and he was too close. With his agility active he wove between the shards of fire like a gust of wind. Small explosions rattled the hanger as he slashed one weapon in half.

  The Harbinger looked at the weapon in dismay, but his expression changed to agony as the Swordsman ran him through. Ripping his blade free he dived behind the crate and used it as cover to rotate around. Striking hard, he brought his sword up and into another man's side. He screamed and collapsed while the Swordsman turned to the remaining two.

  Seeing their companions fall, they bolted. One ran around the helicopter, headed for a small door inset into the wall. Titus sprinted toward the Swordsman's entry point. With the chopper between them, the Swordsman threw his sword at the rotors. The weapon's magic caused it to sink into the blade rather than bounce off, and the force of the impact sent the rotor into a slow spin.

  The Swordsman took three steps and leapt. Catching the end of the chopper blade, he allowed it to carry him around the front of the helicopter. At the other side he yanked his sword free and let go. He landed and sheathed his sword, and then drew his crossbow. Ethereal smoke blossomed out of the stock and solidified into shape. He sent two arrows into the back of the man and then spun to put two bolts an inch from Titus's face.

  His target stumbled back and almost fell down the stairs. The Swordsman dismissed the weapon and put the stock back into his holster. Then he strode toward his blubbering target.

  "Please don't," he said. "Please don't kill me."

  The Swordsman issued a bark of laughter. "You may have fooled your criminal friends here, Titus, but I know who you are. How many have you personally killed because they wouldn't join the Harbingers? Ten? Fifty? A hundred?"

  The fear and panic faded from his features, and were replaced with cold hatred. Then he rose to his feet.

  "Not anymore," he spit the words. "After everything I did, Alice cut me out."