The medallion was little more than a round coin with its center punched out and its edges ribbed. It felt as old as it looked—a relic from the Second Age when the land used different coinage. When the coin made skin contact, the bearer could unravel patterns and dispel wards. Any prevention the Mages of old took to keep this hall closed was for naught. It had taken some time to prove the relic was the real Medallion of Unwind, as its creator Arch Mage Pike Bronwen called it, but after Nolen passed through the wards of Castle Jaden without alerting the vigilant Council, he knew its authenticity. Nolen had even used it a few times to pass through the wards protecting the coin vaults of Kilkiny Palace.
‘There is no going back,’ Nolen reminded himself, a mantra he developed on his way here. ‘Perhaps I should think myself a bad person.’
The hall took several turns and flights of stairs that wound him deeper into the rock. The air became colder. He expected to find another soul in the catacombs, but no sound reached him but for the occasional drip of water that puddled the floors the further down he went. On his last turn he spotted his destination. A deep cavern with a slender path led to a simple door that was undoubtedly heavily warded on both sides. But as Nolen approached, nothing terrible befell him. Putting a hand on the ancient latch, he unlocked the four bolts set into each side and pulled it open.
His candle gave a shutter as air sucked into the room. For a moment he thought it would die and leave him trapped in the belly of the mountain, but the light held. Catching a stale breath, he stepped into the warded room.
He could see nothing, not even the edges of the expanse, but to his true horror he felt the ever-pulsing flame of his Element vanish.
He instinctively took a step back outside the room and felt his Air Element rush back to him as if it never left. Any good palace or castle had a similar room with incanted stones that blocked the Elements. It was an excellent way to innerve and distract a Mage.
He moved forward, listening to his bootsteps slowly echo through what sounded like a tall room. All was silent but for him, and he wondered if he had erred horribly, but then he saw a pair of boots come into the circle of light. Raising the candle, he revealed a man.
The man stood still with his eyes closed, seemingly in a trance. Even his breast failed to rise and fall. His skin was so pale it looked dead in the flickering light, and the hollows of his eyes were dark. He was of average height, a good five inches shorter than Nolen, with deeply-set eyes, a square jaw, and a large straight nose. His brown hair banded back and fell to his slender shoulders. He dressed in breeches and stockings, wearing a coat with a hundred buttons up the side of the chest, and a mountain of lace spilling from his throat and wrists. The clothing was Age-old, and looked as though it may flake off if touched.
Nolen heard stories of this man as far back as he could remember. The man was a legend in the Mage world, and even educated non-Mages whispered his story to their children. Class Ten Mage Ryker Slade was reportedly as mad as he was powerful, and stories of his power were enough to frighten even the Head Mage. Nolen knew the stories well. Cunning and skilled with a magnetic personality, he drew people to him; people he lured to their deaths. It was told he killed his followers to fuel his Excellyon that stored Mage energy. He was known for his sick pleasures, and though the stories were exaggerated with every tongue, they had to stem from some truths.
He did not look so dangerous standing there peacefully, but Nolen knew better. He looked as though he stepped out of a painting, dressed in the old fashioned clothing with its garish colors. Even the panes of his face looked touched with a painter’s flattering hand, for Ryker had no wrinkles.
Around the Mage’s neck hung a diamond-shaped silver medallion set with four large sapphires. Nolen knew in an instant the object was the legendary Excellyon. Of the five that had been made, this was the only one reported to still exist. The only thing that kept Ryker in his hibernated state was the Excellyon fueling a pattern lost to the Ages. The pattern kept Ryker protected from death after all these countless years.
Rumors in codices said the room was a mirage; it was not what it appeared and had patterns built into the stones to befuddle the captive. It looked safe to Nolen, though he thought it seemed a little larger than a room should be. Tomes and books said many things about Ryker, but he searched for what they omitted. Nolen had spent countless hours in Madison Library of Jaden studying the Excellyon. Rumor said Head Mage Casimir had an Excellyon, whispers said one was hidden somewhere in Castle Jaden, but everyone suspected the rest were lost to history. The well-educated of Jaden knew that the Arch Mages hibernated many times, skipping across generations; however, the codices omitted the way to stop the hibernation.
Ryker was protected by the Excellyon and could not be killed or woken while wearing it. Mages throughout the years sought to wake and kill him, but the mere idea of such a feat was so chilling that few people had tried. Some tried drowning him, but the water evaporated; others tried fire but it wove around him and vanished with a glow. When an Air Mage tried to draw the oxygen from the room, the room broke free a stone to draw air in elsewhere. Nolen saw the gaping black space in the wall where a triangular stone should have been.
There was precious little information on attempts to wake Ryker, and Nolen suspected the information he sought resided in the Head Mage’s private library if it existed at all. One man tried to superheat the metal chain to break it. Another Mage tried to slip it over his head to find the chain too short. Someone padded the metal so it would not make physical contact with Ryker. Another tried to unclasp the chain, but she was shocked with such energy it removed her senses and left her unable to perform any task.
But Nolen had the Medallion of Unwind, and he would not be so foolish to come this far without a plan. If his reasoning was accurate, the medallion would bend back the Excellyon’s protection and allow him to unclasp the chain. That, or it would shock him and leave him dying on the floor.
He stepped forward until he was nearly pressed up against the man, hoping the medallion was working. He reached a hand out, knowing he had one last chance to change his mind. He laced his hands around the chain and ran it through his fingers feeling for the clasp. Pieces of lace flaked from Ryker’s clothes. The clasp secured, Nolen slid a thumbnail into the catch and snapped it loose with a pinched look.
Whatever wards protected the Excellyon bended around the Medallion of Unwind, and it unsnapped silently, leaving Nolen unharmed. He exhaled with a tight, choked sound bordering on a relieved laugh.
At first there was only silence, and Nolen strained in the dim light to hear any sign of life. ‘Was there a chance Ryker had died years ago and the Excellyon kept him standing?’ Just when Nolen began to fear the worst, Ryker took in a breath.
“My lord, you have awoken,” Nolen said softly as to not startle the man.
Ryker’s eyes popped open and met Nolen’s instantly. They were dark, and the skin around them crinkled as he frowned.
“Y’,” Ryker whispered, his voice hoarse and dry. “Y’ better have a good reason par waking me.” He spoke with a strange smooth accent using a dialect lost to the Ages.
“I am Mage Prince Nolen Novacula, and I am here to free you.”
Ryker looked around and gave his shoulders a little roll.
“T’ what end?” he finally asked. As his tongue loosened, his words became more fluid.
“What end do we all want?”
“Power, I imagine,” Ryker’s voice gained some strength. “Answer mine question.”
“I need your help securing the throne of Anatoly.”
Ryker gave him a suspicious look and made a clicking sound with the inside of his cheek. “Par yourself?”
Nolen nodded.
“What year is this? Have the Queens of Anatoly fallen?”
“It is 4152, and no, the Queens still rule the Eagle Throne.” Ryker said nothing, and Nolen realized he had not fully answered the first question. “All I ask is for your help with the throne, a
nd in turn I will ally Anatoly to your cause.”
“Mine cause,” Ryker repeated and gave a small smirk. “Tell me boy, who sits the Head Mage Seat?”
“Class Six Mage Casimir Brynmore, a Spirit Mage.”
Ryker’s cool face brightened as his eyebrows rose. “A Class Six? Are y’ having a laugh? Aye, what luck I’ve found mineself in. So boy, t’ what end will the throne take y’?”
“I want it for power.”
“Aye, I realized. But why do y’ want power? Every man wants power par a reason. Y’ best be truthful with me.” He had a commanding voice, and with his frequent use of eye contact Nolen could tell why people were drawn to him. He could not help but want to answer.
“My sister,” Nolen replied, the truth spilling from lips. He once swore to himself he would tell no one why he thirsted for power, but the man had a hold over him. “My twin whom I love dearly was sent away years ago, and I have no answers why. With power we could be reunited.”
“The royals still take kin t’ marriage then?”
Nolen frowned. “No, that was done away with long ago.”
Ryker regarded him with a calculating look. “Tell me of the Mages.”
Nolen looked somber. “Class Ten, Nine, Eight and Sevens are extinct. We hardly hold onto Class Sixes. It is rare to wield more than one Element, and we have lost much pattern knowledge as we grow weaker.”
Ryker nodded thoughtfully and looked at the difference in their clothes before grimacing. “Y’ have gumption waking me, but as y’ did it in a good Age I shan’t kill y’.” He made another clicking sound with his cheek and sized Nolen up. “Right, boy, here are mine terms. I want something of Ages past, and if y’ get it for me I will fetch y’ the Anatolian throne.” He paused and brushed a cobweb from the back of his hair. “I want the Silex. It was taken from me long ago, ac if y’ truly want your throne, y’ will find it par me.”
“The Silex fell out of knowledge Ages ago.” Nolen knew little of the fabled object, and each story did not quite match the next. Some say Ryker created it, others said it existed long before they did. Nolen believed it was an object that bestowed Class Ten powers in every Element to anyone it touched.
“Aye, it was taken from me, but it is ne an object what goes missing without someone knowing its location. Y’ find that par me. I warrant it will be protected, so take the strongest Mage y’ have t’ dispel the wards ‘round it…. How did y’ get down here? Is this place ne warded?”
Nolen reached behind his trouser hem and pulled out the Medallion of Unwind. He tossed it to Ryker with a flick of his thumb. He recognized it instantly, playing his finger in and out of the center hole through the patterns within, and his dark eyes flicked up. “How far away is the exit?”
Nolen looked behind him as if it would help answer the question. “It took me several minutes to arrive,” he replied.
“Unwind has a limit on her. We best hurry.”
Nolen turned to the door and stopped abruptly. It was gone. His mouth worked silently for a breath and sent a bewildered look to Ryker.
“Do ne be alarmed,” the man stated, taking a wobbly but dignified step forward. “It’s an old Void illusion pattern what keeps the door hid.”
The fear of being trapped underground swelled in Nolen, but he maintained his calm long enough to brace both hands on the wall. He ran them back and forth looking for what his eyes would not see.
“Ack! Ne, it’s something else. Ruddy Earth Mages meddling with what ought ne be meddled.” He made a clicking noise in his cheek and paced the room. It took him precious little time to cross it, and Nolen realized to his horror that the room shrank. No longer was it a vast cavern but now a common dungeon cell.
“Y’ betray your feelings, Princeling,” Ryker murmured as talking to himself. Nolen put a hand against his chest to still his breathing, his heart racing within. He stooped and ran his hand against the wall-and-floor joint and found the triangular void where the rock popped loose hundreds of years before. The stone still lay at Ryker’s feet.
Ryker gave Nolen a curious look, as if he debated something, then his face smoothed and he nearly shrugged. “Come,” he stated and extended a soft hand. Nolen was drawn to it and seized it. Behind them the candle sputtered and casted haunting shadows across the small room.
Ryker tightened his hand and pushed it as far into the hole as he could. Quickly a look of rapture smoothed his creased features. In the blink of an eye, Ryker’s hair became stark white and rose as if lifted in an unseen wind. When he moved his eyes to Nolen’s face, the Prince saw they too were as white as new cotton. The image nearly made him release his grip and jump back, certain the man was a specter returned from the dead, but something kept his grip fast.
In a moment the dark room suddenly became white where it should have been black, and dark where the candle rested its light. Non-Mages were often wary and sometimes frightened by the unusual power Mages bore, and for a moment Nolen knew their fright. He blinked at the afterimage and snapped his head back and forth, all semblance of control lost. The room vanished swiftly and replaced by a white hall that rushed about them, making Nolen loosen his grip on Ryker’s hand. Faint figures moved in the corners of his vision while the landscape seemed blurred and unfocused. As soon as he gathered his bearings, they moved, or he moved; it was uncertain. This form of transportation was power unknown, and he suspected that if he never studied or heard of it, it could not be safe.
Ryker tightened his grip. “Y’ don’t want t’ be doing that.” The trip through the afterimage world lasted seconds, and as quickly as it began, it was over.
Nolen blinked as the world became black again. Wherever they were now, it was void of light. “That felt good,” Ryker whispered and snapped his fingers around a collection of white strings, creating a ball of light above his fingertips. The light grew to illuminate the hallway Nolen had come down, chasing the darkness back.
“Make your way, Princeling.” Ryker nodded to the hall. Nolen searched the mortar and stones for recognition unsure where Ryker moved them, but he would be damned if he seemed uncertain in front of an Arch Mage. The man’s title made Nolen smile as he stepped out. ‘An Arch Mage, alive in my time.’
“Who is the strongest Mage the world has?” Ryker asked as he followed.
Nolen shook his head a little. “Arconia has a few more Class Sixes than we do.” He wiped a hand across his brow. “Though, someone once told me there was a rogue Class Ten out there.”
Ryker made the clicking noise in his cheek. “Y’ might’a mentioned that before. How do y’ come by this information?”
“A man claiming to be his father told me,” Nolen replied. “But there is no evidence.”
Nolen stopped short when a crippling pain shot up his leg, through his spine, and into the base of his skull. He crumpled to the stones with a gasp, searching for an explanation. An attack from the Arch Mage was logical, and he remembered he no longer held the Medallion of Unwind.
“Damn wards,” Ryker muttered above him. “We didn’t shift far enough. That’ll sound the alarm.” He gripped a rough hand to the small of Nolen’s back and made a twisting motion that drew a shuttering gasp of pain from Nolen. As soon as the man pulled back, the sudden pain vanished.
Nolen staggered to his feet before Ryker took a fistful of his coat. “Listen, Princeling, I hibernated t’ avoid the Class Tens, ac if one still exists, he is your problem, ac one you’ll need t’ remove.” His grip loosened, and he looked away. “Though, if y’ get your hands on him, it would save me the trouble of fetching the Silex.” He met Nolen’s alarmed eyes. “Y’ find him, ac I will help y’ keep him, then y’ bring me mine Silex, aye?”
“Aye,” Nolen replied, his stony, princely training taking over his emotions. “Yes.”
“Good. Does anyone know you’re here? Did y’ bring a horse what can be recognized?”
“Yes.”
Far down the hall, the faint sound of running boots met their ears.
&
nbsp; “Is the livery unchanged?” Ryker asked and grabbed Nolen’s arm. His eyes and hair became white again. Nolen shut his lids this time as Ryker moved them without moving. The bootfalls vanished, and the unscented still air suddenly changed to the aroma of hot horse and hay. His ears filled with the familiar sounds of a stable as horses ground meal and shifted in their stalls. Nolen’s eyes flew open as Ryker released him, and he found himself in the livery. Somehow, Arch Mage Ryker moved them from Westerly Motte, across the courtyard, and into the stables in the span of a breath. ‘How far a distance can one travel this way?’
Ryker maintained the frightening look of white hair and eyes, his hair wafting in an unseen wind around the loose ends.
“You must explain how you do that.” Nolen whispered, his racing heart smoothing its rhythm.
“Find your horse, ac we’ll leave. I can drop y’ halfway t’ Kilkiny Palace, so they won’t suspect y’.” Ryker quickly drew threads of Spirit from his chest and laid them in the familiar cloth-pattern to alter his clothing. Rapidly, the threads of fabric melded and moved as if a child had its hand in paint and twisted to and fro.
Nolen scanned the horses for Shibaler, throwing tack on him and swinging into the saddle. Ryker finished with his cloth change now garbed in a short dark coat speckled with gold buttons, and long gray trousers. In their escape the lace from his blouse disintegrated, but a reformed undershirt peeked from under the coat. Nolen had always envied Spirit Mages who could transform cloth in a moment. With it he could have stripped someone naked in a second, or dress Prince Balien in a gown faster than he could tear it off.
Ryker put a hand on his boot, and instantly Nolen’s vision once again changed to a blindingly bright world. The reeling sensation that his last meal may surface lingered. Shibaler gave a start, but Nolen reined him in to keep him steady. This time it took a minute before Ryker released him, and the sounds of crickets chirped his ears.
The Castrofax (Book 1) Page 6
