The Red Citadel and the Sorcerer's Power

by Craig Halloran

  “Mother, what does he mean?” Rinny asked.

  “Nothing. Just cover your mouth with your sleeve,” Dizon said.

  “But my clothes are muddy.”

  Finster rolled his eyes. He had enough irritation in his life: a burning scarab burrowed in his back, armies that wanted to kill him, assassins hunting him down, and now a girl who screamed and sneezed. If I could eliminate one of the four, I’m certain it would be the girl.

  The second floor was laid out the same as the first, except the floor was made from large stone tiles. There were four spade-shaped portal windows, equally distanced apart, covered by the vines that had crept in through the outside. The torches were in the brackets on the walls, and an iron candelabrum, empty of candles or another source of flame, hung from chains above them. There were no other furnishings. The hot, muggy air remained suffocating.

  Finster lit all the torches, found the stairwell to the next floor, and went up. The third floor was the same as the second, as were the fourth and the fifth. He lit up every level, and on the fifth floor, they met up with Moth again. The savage stood in the center of the room, sword down at his side, squinting as he turned in a slow circle. “I think we are safe for the moment,” Finster said. His voice echoed when he spoke. “The higher up the better. We do have a loose horse on the run with supplies that we need. Perhaps you and the girl can retrieve it.”

  Without a look, Moth moved toward the door. He extended his arm. Rinny climbed onto his shoulders. With a smile, she looked at Finster. “Can I have a torch?”

  Finster floated one over to her.

  Together, Moth and Rinny headed back down the stairs.

  “Be safe, Rinny,” Dizon said as she sat down beside Finster.

  “I’m always safe with Moth. He’s invincible.” Moth and Rinny vanished.

  With a sigh, Dizon lay down on the floor and put her head in Finster’s lap.

  Stroking her hair gingerly with his fingers, Finster said, “Are you having any regrets?”

  “No,” she said. “As my daughter feels about Moth, I feel the same way about you.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You think me invincible?”

  “You are at least the closest thing to it,” she said. “Finster, are we going to live here?”

  “We are going to live here while I think,” he said.

  “Will that take long?”

  “Perhaps. Are you that uncomfortable already?”

  She shrugged. “This tower is well preserved but so barren. I don’t think the few blankets we carry will make it that much more comfortable.”

  “I don’t think this tower was made for comfort. And the sorcerers in those days did not maintain many possessions.” His eyes grazed over the fine stonework in the ceiling. “They considered material items to be distractions and only lived off what they needed. It was here that they would train and practice magic. My guess is that they probably slept without blankets.”

  “What would they eat? There is no food aside from swamp rats and tree bark in this wretched terrain.”

  “True, but the landscape was probably different when they were here. And I’m certain they worked with merchants and tradesmen, the same as many others.”

  “Speaking of which, our own rations are limited. What will we eat if they run out?”

  Twisting her hair around his fingers, he replied, “Whatever Moth hunts and kills for us, I suppose. And some fresh lizard and horse is still available.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Back in the Kingdom of Mendes, King Rolem strolled along the castle walls that looked out over the sea. With his knights, in glistening suits of platemail armor, standing on watch nearby, he walked with the assassin, Alexandria. The handsome king’s brow was furrowed as he read a letter that had arrived from the kingdom of Rayland.

  “Who is this Counselor Mather? I’ve never heard of him.” Rolem slapped his hand against the parchment. “I know Counselor Trenner, but this man, I don’t know. Yet he makes a very interesting proposal in his plea to form an alliance. What do you know of him?”

  Alexandria, tall, slender, and athletically built, with dusky eyes, walked as quietly as a cat beside him. Wearing the traveling cloak that augmented her unique powers, she said, “Mather was the queen’s hand, an older, wizened fellow, who cut open Trenner’s throat the moment King Alrick died. I’ve since learned that he was a member of the Circle long ago. It seems he retired, only to strike at the perfect time.” She put her hand on the king’s shoulder. “We don’t need him to take down Finster. I can handle this mission.”

  “You might be the High Executioner, but you failed to execute your target.” King Rolem rolled up the scroll. He stopped, put his foot up on the wall, and looked out to the sea. The harbors bustled with galleons and fishing boats. Men and women labored along the docks. “I want more. I have the funding, but I need the power to bring all of the seashore kingdoms under my control.”

  Without letting him see, Alexandria rolled her eyes. Her ambitions were simple. She only wanted to be the greatest assassin that ever lived. The king, however, wanted power that no man could possibly control. He wanted power over unpredictable people. Even she knew that was impossible. She massaged his shoulder and, with a reassuring smile, said, “You will have all that you want. I’m certain of it. As for Finster, I know his weakness. It won’t take long to find him and kill him. No one can hide from the Circle in this world. Our eyes are everywhere.”

  “So you’ve told me.” He pushed her hand away. “And if that is the case, where is our omnipotent sorcerer now?”

  “He will resurface. The barbarian he travels with has a knack for foolishness. He would be hard to miss, Your Majesty.”

  “No, I don’t suppose a man who indiscreetly jumps into the Gauntlet will be able to avoid another such temptation.” Rolem swept his wavy locks of brown hair behind his ear. “They say this barbarian is an inhuman beast that bested the walls after spikes were driven through his legs. Is this true?”

  “I did not see it with my own eyes, and the stories certainly stretch the imagination.” She sat on the overlook wall and faced him. “However, that is what many witnesses say. I too saw this savage firsthand. He’s quiet and shows no pain but has an intensity in his eyes like cauldrons of fire. What aids him I do not know—unless it’s a power of Finster’s. Perhaps this man was summoned from another world.”

  “No.” The king shook his head. “The blue-toe tribes are real. Or were real. I can’t keep up with all of them. Wargoths, Gorgoths, and Wild Goths are the only ones I’ve dealt with personally. Then there are all of the other outlying factions.” He scratched at the side of his mustache. A warm breeze tousled his wavy hair. “Perhaps we can send them after this Moth.”

  “Your Majesty, I would make a plea that you trust me to take out this man.”

  “Oh really? And why is that? Do you think you are that much smarter than me? The king?”

  “Certainly not.” She took his hand and kissed his many rings. “I have deep respect for your authority, but would you risk such power, the Founder’s Stone, and the location of these rings falling into another kingdom’s hands? It is so much to risk.”

  He tilted his head toward the stone-faced woman cradling his hand in hers. “Perhaps you seek these items for yourself.”

  “No, I don’t have that desire. I want to be the assassin that takes them for the crown. The assassin behind the ruler of the world.”

  “Perhaps you desire a chair right beside my own.”

  “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t fantasized about it,” she said with a sultry look. “As well as many other things that involve the king.”

  The king’s palms became sweaty. He swallowed and breathed a shallow breath. “I understand the members of the Circle are masters of seduction.”

  As she massaged his hand, she said, “We are masters of all things that make another comfortable. I can make you very comfortable, my king. It would be an honor.”

  He cast a qui
ck look at his knights then turned his attention back to her. “You are a ravishing sight for such a cold-hearted woman. You do realize that I can’t take any chances when you enter my chambers. You’ll have to be fully disarmed.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she said. King Rolem was a desirable man, well-built and strong, but he doubted her. She needed to do what she could to turn the tide back in her favor. That would take time and more effort. She wanted Finster and Moth all to herself. “My body is yours.”

  King Rolem lifted her to her feet and said with a smirk, “Come with me then. My dungeon awaits.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Finster sat in the center of the Black Tower’s third level with his legs crossed and his eyes closed. For days, he’d spent hours in deep meditation, fighting to control the painful scarab in his back. If he could fully control the Founder’s Stone’s power, then he should be able to control the pain. It hadn’t worked that way. The more he tried, the more he hurt. It felt like someone ripping out a second heart through his back.

  “Guh!” he gasped as his narrow chest heaved. He opened his eyes. He patted his face dry with the towel folded at his side. “Oh, lords of zephyr, I need some wine. Anything to dull this throbbing pain.” He tossed the small towel away and lay flat on his back. The cool stones offered little relief, but it was something. With his hoop sleeves falling down past his elbows, he looked at his skinny, vascular arms. Noticeable green veins spidered through his limbs, showing from his elbows clear to his fingers. “That looks awful. What am I, some sort of monster?”

  Finster had all of the power he’d ever desired, but a curse came with it. He longed for the days when he had sat on the balcony of Tarley’s Tavern in the town of Marcen, duping the pie-faced farmers. Now the greatest trick had been played on him, the scarab’s trick that gave him power but, day by day, drained his life as well.

  “Am I destined to be a lich, such as the one I crossed when I discovered the stone? Is that the fate for me?” With his hands on his chest, fingers interlocked, he rolled his thumbs. “Hmmm… the undead feel no pain. It’s an option. But would the wine have any flavor at all?”

  As he lay, he contemplated Dizon’s earnest suggestions to just kill King Rolem. She seemed determined to convince Finster that was the only way to go about it. No doubt, she was smart and astute in the ways of the world, but she didn’t understand the larger picture as well as Finster did. He was the last of the sorcerers from the Red Citadel. Ingrid had killed all of the others and taken the rings of power. It would be up to him to restore the order to the Red Citadel and find another Magus Supremeus. The mages were the guardians of the realm, and without them, the Seven Kingdoms would be in chaos. The idea was to find suitable workers of magic and endow them with the rings of power. It would maintain balance. There were many wizards from other citadels and towers, such as Satrap Chen, who came from the Violet Citadel of his orient people of Varland. Finster chuckled. I killed him quite easily, didn’t I? Fool. I could have done it even without the Founder’s Stone in hand, or in my back, rather.

  Either way, there was going to be a fight. He considered a parlay with King Rolem to make peace, but considering that Finster had slain Ingrid, it didn’t seem possible. At the same time, Finster didn’t want to relinquish the power of the Founder’s Stone. He wasn’t sure that the stone would leave him either. They had become one, with it urging him into an action that he didn’t understand. It was a presence, almost a mind of its own, yearning for something.

  Getting to his feet, Finster ambled over to the portal window while rubbing his lower back. The vines had been cut away, giving him a full view of the back end of the tower. There was a semblance of a grassy courtyard that somehow remained untouched. There, Moth, Dizon, and Rinny worked together. They’d butchered the horse and begun cooking the meat. Moth had skinned the scales from the lizard and wrapped the meat in bundles, preserving it. Everything Moth did, Rinny imitated, except being silent.

  Dizon, with her hands on her hips, boiled water over a fire in a pot they’d brought along. Meat cooked over the coals on a spit. As if she knew his thoughts, she looked up at him and waved. Finster flipped up two fingers. They were surviving the bug-infested mire. In theory, they could hold out for a long time, but in truth, Finster knew that he couldn’t. His arm twitched against his control. It was becoming harder to control his own actions. His eyes slid over to Moth.

  Somehow, the savage tapped into the rings of power, yet there was no evidence of him suffering. He went about his chores as effortlessly as the wind stirring the leaves. Finster’s jaw clenched. His gut stirred.

  If I had the rings, just one of them, I know I could control this pain.

  Finster knew enough about the eight rings and their powers. There was no doubt that they could aid him. He could see them clearly as they had adorned Ingrid the Insane’s fingers when she had sat on the Magus Supremeus’s throne. Each was fine metal matched with a precious stone. He ran through what he knew of them by singing a little ditty in his head.

  Ruby and black iron regenerate. Diamond and brass make fire. Sapphire with steel form ice and water. Dust and disintegration come from onyx and copper, while the garnet with silver yields telekinetic powers. Pearls and gold for shield and protection… oh, what are the other two? Peridot and platinum, topaz and bronze, I think. But what do they do? Think, Finster, think.

  If any one ring would truly aid him, it would be the black-iron ring of regeneration. Moth survived the most vicious wounds, only to be sewn up again by the ring’s power. Finster stared at the hulking savage who now stood in front of the fire, eating a hunk of cooked meat on a stick. Beside him, Rinny did the same. Squinting, with his magic-enhanced vision, he noticed something on Moth’s hands. The brute’s fingers bulged around the knuckles, lumpy underneath the skin. His heart leapt. He dashed for the stairs.

  The rings!

  CHAPTER 65

  Practically drooling, his fingers clawing at the air, Finster eyeballed Moth’s hands. “Look at that. Will you look at that? The rings are working themselves out.”

  Dizon stood beside him. “I didn’t notice that earlier. It must have just happened. This is a very good thing?”

  “A very great thing,” Finster said as he eased in for a closer look. There was no denying that the rings had begun to appear underneath the savage’s dirty skin. The rings bulged bigger than the existing knuckles. With wide eyes, Finster said, “Fascinating. How they worked their way through the body I’ll probably never comprehend, but they have latent abilities all their own.” He reached out a finger toward Moth’s hand. Moth continued to eat, not paying Finster any mind. Finster withdrew his hand. “That might not be a good idea.”

  “What wouldn’t be a good idea?” Rinny asked. “And why does Moth have an extra set of knuckles?”

  Finster moved away, rubbing the scruff on his face. He found delight in the confirmation that all eight rings had revealed themselves.

  Perhaps, in time, they will show fully over the skin. Then I can possess what should be mine. And the mute shouldn’t have desire for them, now, should he?

  “Does this change things, Finster?” Dizon asked.

  “In what regard?”

  “We know that Moth has the rings. Perhaps it is time for action rather than sitting here, waiting among the wet weeds.” She got face-to-face with him. “I still say finish Rolem before he finishes you. Do it now, while you have the power to do so.”

  In truth, it wouldn’t be that difficult for Finster. If he could see Rolem, it would take next to nothing to hurl a deadly projectile at him. But people would know that the Master of the Inanimate was behind it. No, he needed to restore order to the Red Citadel, and he’d need the rings to do it. The question was, who else in this world could he trust besides the loose company that he was with?

  He had once had friends in many kingdoms. Many would have status and power now. But the moment he set foot inside their borders, he had little doubt the Circle wou
ld see him. By any means possible, they would try to strike him down. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if they had started to send armies after him already. He couldn’t stay at the Black Tower forever. They would starve to death. And the Founder’s Stone was sucking the life out of him already. He had to make a move. What would that move be?

  CHAPTER 66

  Alexandria departed from Mendes with her claws digging into her palms. King Rolem, despite their frolicking between the satin sheets, had sent out another bounty on Finster and Moth. He had tried to do it discreetly, but when the High Executioner commanded the power of a cloak that disguised and made one invisible, there weren’t many things that slipped by her. Now, with a small host of her men, three in all, she rode toward the kingdom of Varland.

  Riding at a trot, she unrolled a hand-drawn picture of Finster and Moth. It was only mildly accurate, but there were words on the parchment that gave an ample description. King Rolem had had them drawn up and sent out to his finest hands in the Seven Kingdoms—to men and women loyal to him, all of whom had sworn allegiance to the crown.

  With a disgusted look on her face, she spat the dust of the dry road from her mouth.

  I should not have missed Finster when I had the chance. I should have acted more quickly.

  Not one for regret, she found herself put to task. It would now be a race to find and kill Finster. There would be mercenaries and wayward knights in deadly pursuit. The finest trackers in the land would be sent after the men. There was a warning on the letter’s parchment too: “Extremely powerful. Extremely dangerous.” In regard to Finster and Moth, that was an understatement. She’d stabbed Moth with her most potent poison, yet he had lived. The brute sent shivers through her.