The Reign of Magic (Pentamura Book 1)

by Awert, Wolf

  “What makes me wonder,” Nill began, having until now listened breathlessly along with Brolok and Tiriwi, “is the fact that no mage of Ringwall has ever really challenged this mystery. The archmages or at least the Magon must be able to remove the seal.”

  “The gateway was opened twice. Something happened during the second opening that the archmages keep very quiet about. All I know is that it cost the old Magon and another powerful mage their lives. Keij-Joss saved Ambrosimas and Mah Bu arrived shortly afterwards with more help. Together they created the seal that keeps the door closed today. Ever since that day, Keij-Joss, Ambrosimas and Mah Bu are mages of the Spheres in the new Magon Gwynmasidon’s Circle.”

  “So the archmages know how the seal is constructed,” Brolok surmised.

  “And it keeps renewing,” said Nill.

  “Ah, so you’ve already played around with it. Don’t do it anymore. The gateway is shut for a reason. Besides, everyone knows how the seal is constructed, it’s no great secret. Five magical layers of the five elements and beneath them the falundron, an ancient, tiny lizard that is basically immortal. That’s what renews the seal.”

  “I’ve never heard of a falundron,” Tiriwi interjected. “I’ve never heard of immortal animals either, for that matter.”

  “It is a creature from the ancient world, like the Roc and the Firebird. What keeps it there is a mystery to me, but it must be a powerful spell; doors are not a common place for lizards to live. Amargreisfing, a Magon from a very long time ago, opened the gateway first. Thanks to his witness we know what’s behind it.”

  “And what is it?”

  “The Walk of Weakness. Knor-il-Ank saps the mages’ magical energy and then their physical strength. Not every mage who has tried to explore the corridor – which is all they ever discovered – has returned. Some never made it back. The stronger their magic was in the outside world, the weaker they became in there. In the end they sent strong, resilient mucklings down there to rescue the sorcerers that had not returned, whether they were still living or already wandering in the Other World. Amargreisfing replaced the falundron on the lock and had the seal renewed. That’s the whole story.”

  “Who put the falundron on the lock in the first place?” Tiriwi asked.

  “The stories don’t tell,” the master archivist answered.

  “And when the gate is opened, the sapping reaches out into the caves before it, threatening entire parts of Ringwall. Isn’t that so?” Brolok asked.

  “No,” the master archivist replied. “It stops at the threshold. I don’t know why, but the gateway was never made to protect Ringwall, but rather to protect careless mages. The seal is strong enough to stop any single mage from opening the lock. But that’s all I can tell you.”

  On the way back to their caves, Brolok, Tiriwi and Nill walked in silence. They were each lost in their own thoughts. The story of Ringwall’s founding was confusing, the tales of the first mages contradictory and illogical. They no longer lived next to a door with a magical seal over it; they lived next to an entrance to another world. What had begun as a challenge that Nill had wanted to test himself by was now the temptation of magic that came from somewhere other than the five elements. Perhaps he would have listened to the master archivist’s warnings if he had not felt that old magic in the Valley of Unhappy Trees, if there had not been magic beneath Ringwall that exited through a watery depression on the side of Knor-il-Ank. And particularly if Dakh-Ozz-Han and the other Mages of Ringwall had not denied that such magic existed. Besides, the magic of the five elements had no answer for the Walk of Weakness. No element sapped the very life essence of an arcanist.

  Only once they had reached the main cave and sat down on the logs did they feel prepared to talk again.

  “You never told us that Dakh-Ozz-Han brought you here.” Tiriwi’s tone was accusatory.

  “I didn’t? Probably not. It’s not important though, is it? Do you know him?” Nill asked.

  “Know him? How should a little Oa like me know that man?” Tiriwi asked back. “Dakh-Ozz-Han is the greatest living druid, perhaps the greatest druid ever. He’s more myth than man, and he must be ancient.”

  “I guarantee you he’s not a myth, but there might be more than one person with his name. I could feel his power, and the people in my village were scared of him. Except for Esara, of course. But what aren’t the villagers ever scared of? They fear anything they don’t know.”

  “No, nobody would ever dare assume the same name as him. Tell me what Dakh-Ozz-Han looked like.” Every time she spoke his name it was with the greatest reverence. Her voice, quiet and gentle already, became little more than a whisper for the duration of those three syllables.

  Nill looked rather stumped. “He was a bit taller than me, and shorter than you. But wider.” He made a gesture that indicated a mighty chest and grinned. “But he wasn’t fat. It was all muscle. You could never really see much of his face; it was covered in hair as matted as the fur of a ram that hasn’t been looked after for several harvests.”

  “And his aura?” Tiriwi was burning for more information.

  Nill gave an apologetic smile. “I never paid attention to that. I never even knew auras existed, nor their meaning, until I came to Ringwall. Sorry.”

  “You both asked me about the magic of the Oas, and where I learned magic. The elements play no part in our usual magic. Everything I know about Fire, Water, Earth, Metal and Wood I had to learn quickly, before I came to Ringwall. My teacher was Kelim-Ozz-Han and he was a gray-haired man who had come to visit our wisest woman. Nobody was to know of it, because the elemental magic is considered impure by the Oas. But Kelim-Ozz-Han was one of the great Dakh’s youngest sons. Do you see why I want to know what he looked like?”

  “The druid who brought me here wasn’t young, but he wasn’t ancient either. I wish he’d been the one to teach me magic; I begged him to, but he didn’t want to. He said I’d be better off in Ringwall, in the care of the mages. He wanted me to learn magic here. I don’t know why. Are you sure that Dakh-Ozz-Han is a great sorcerer?”

  “They say he controls the elements. He commands the storm, parts the water, quenches the flames that threaten to burn the world, and soothes the earth. There is nobody greater than him. Not even the mages, at least the elemental ones.”

  “And he’s done all this stuff?” Brolok asked, having held his tongue until now. “Did he really tame the storm and split the sea into two pieces?”

  Tiriwi bit her lip. “I don’t know. Every Oa and every druid is convinced that he can. That’s what the stories say, but nothing of his adventures. At all, really. Now you mention it, I wonder why.”

  Tiriwi became lost in thought. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, the little, impatient, stubborn Nill had grown, and as Dakh-Ozz-Han’s wandering companion he had gained a great deal of importance to the Oas. What did the druids and the wise women know? Tiriwi had never before so overwhelmingly felt that this was not only about the future of Ringwall or Pentamuria, but the entire foundation of the world. Tiriwi was certain of her own role: she was to watch and listen for the Oas in Ringwall, but what was Nill’s part in the play? Why had Dakh-Ozz-Han seen a mage in him, not a druid? Tiriwi would have given anything for the answers to these questions.

  Answers are one of the few things all people want. The passing messengers had long been forgotten in Nill’s village. After the first darters had reached Ringwall and all seekers had named the same village, the Magon had sent out a grand mage with two high mages and a troop of armed fighters. Under cover of night and magic they had now enclosed the village, drawing nearer and nearer, until they descended upon it with the first rays of the morning at their backs. The fighters immediately occupied every hut and every house in the village while the mages stood beneath the Judgment Tree, letting their minds roam around. It was child’s play to find the men who had found Nill all those winters ago, and also who had brought him up.

  They interrogated every Ramsman, the Reeve and
even the children he had played with. The mages did not ask with words. They had finer methods, and at the end of their inquiries they knew everything there was to know. It did not seem like much, but the mages were satisfied with it, for at Esara’s house they found the old leather clothes that Nill had been wearing when Roddick had found him. Esara had not been able to find it in herself to throw away the good leather, nor to use it for repairs on other clothes. What Esara did not know was that powerful magical objects could change areas where they were kept for a long time. The Grand Mage, his long, icy-gray hair keeping his face in shadow, needed little effort to recognize the magical imprint and read it. To Esara’s surprise they handed the clothes back to her, assuring her that she need not worry. Nobody wanted to steal her memories, her last keepsake to remind her of her son.

  And that was the truth; the mages had got what they had come for. It was only a short way from the remains of an aura to the magical item and from the amulet to Roddick. Roddick was a sharp observer with a good memory, and he told them everything he could remember. Their obedience towards their lords was too deeply ingrained in the people of Pentamuria. The mages were satisfied. They had found so much more than they had hoped for.

  Once the Grand Mage and his followers had left the village, a dark cloud of foreboding hung over the huts and houses for a long time. Nothing had been taken from them, not even the pouch with the child’s old clothes. The huts the fighters had occupied had been temporarily a little more cramped than usual, and they had not been able to go about their daily business. They had not even taken their food, but eaten their own – with the exception of the wine the Reeve had served in welcome. But when the highest lords walk tip-toe, bad things are only a short way away.

  The three mages raced back to Ringwall. By horse at first, they left them behind with the fighters when the animals were exhausted and continued on foot. Empowered by their magic they made great leaping bounds, more flying than running. This kind of traveling cost them much energy and they tired quickly. They decided to have two mages carry the third as he recovered his strength. In a constant rhythm of leaping, leaping, resting their magical energies were spared somewhat, but their bodies were not. Exhausted on the inside and outside, they finally reached Ringwall.

  Three mages with billowing brown traveling cloaks that disguised their lodge hurried through the corridors. Word of their arrival quickly made the rounds, and so it was little surprise that mages were listening in the hallways, observing in interest, hoping for news. Although only a select few had known of the operation, it could not be kept secret that something important had happened.

  The archmages held back. They knew that the messengers were oath-bound to report to the Magon immediately, and he would later tell them. Only in one corner on their way to the Magon did an impenetrable silvery-gray meld with the dark shadow of the wall.

  “We’ll get him with his amulet,” one of the messengers hissed to the darkness. A hood indicated a nod and the strange occurrence was over.

  The message reached Nill in the middle of his worries. Ambrosimas had returned. Nill hurried to his mentor, full to the brim with questions and news. But Ambrosimas signaled him to be quiet.

  “Not now. It is time. The Circle has found the village where you grew up, and someone there told them that you’ve got an amulet that might reveal something about your origins. Your amulet is in danger.”

  Nill blanched. “Is Esara alright? What happened?”

  “I don’t know much yet. Three messengers returned this morning and hastened to tell the Magon. One of them mentioned an amulet. Your amulet.”

  “Where can I hide it?”

  “Nowhere. Now the Circle knows that it exists, there’s no longer any place in Ringwall to hide it. The only one who can hide it is me. Hand it over.”

  “No!” Nill said. “I’m not giving it away again!”

  “You stubborn little mule,” the Archmage growled. “You know if I wanted to harm you, I could force it out of your hands.”

  “Yes, master, but you’d have to do it first.” Nill was as stubborn as ever.

  “You really have a knack for making protecting you difficult. Very well, if you won’t give it to me we’ve only one other option.”

  “What’s that?” Nill was relieved. He had seen himself fleeing Ringwall, a horde of mages at his heels.

  “We must have them find the wrong amulet. Look here.”

  The Archmage took an amulet out of his pocket that consisted of a wooden disk with elaborately knotted plants growing into and around it. Runes were carved into the wood.

  “That’s not my amulet.”

  “No, but nobody knows that, and it’s similar enough. I remembered what it looked like and I made sure to make a note of its aura when you showed it to me. These symbols here are old runes in an ancient script. That’ll give them something to chew on for a while. They’re really just blessings from the time before Ringwall.”

  “Before Ringwall?”

  “Yes, of course; did you think there was no magic at all before Ringwall? If anyone asks you, say nothing about the amulet. You can always tell them later that I gave it to you. But that buys us time.”

  “But… why are you doing all this for me?” Nill asked.

  “Shh, keep it down.” The Archmage held a finger to his lips. “I don’t know myself, to be honest. I’ve got the feeling that the amulet will show its secrets of its own accord, if given enough time. I think it will self-destruct if someone attempts to force out the secret. I’ve never seen an amulet I couldn’t read before. I don’t want it to take any damage. Now let’s compare the two of them, so I can make sure that the fake is roughly similar enough.”

  Nill pulled out his amulet and held it next to the other one, but he did not relinquish his grasp on it.

  The Archmage was not quite satisfied. He made the runes disappear and re-ordered them on the surface. “Hmm, apart from the wood and the aura it’s quite convincing. That’s all I can do. What I’m giving you now is a good amulet with strong blessings. Don’t think it’s worthless just because it’s supposed to be a fake.”

  Nill inspected his own amulet. “Are these runes too?”

  “I don’t know; if they are, I can’t read them. Hide it always close to you so your aura can conceal it a little. But don’t keep it in your cave. Maybe your friends can keep it safe for you?”

  Nill nodded. He knew where to hide it.

  Once Ambrosimas had dismissed him, he hurried back to the Hermits’ Caves. Tiriwi and Brolok were already waiting impatiently.

  “Where was he?” Tiriwi asked.

  Nill shook his head. “He didn’t say, but it’s not important. Something else is.”

  And in quick fashion he reported what he had heard from Ambrosimas. “You need to help me. I have to open the gateway down there, and I can’t do it alone.”

  “You’re mad. We can’t do that, not even with all three of us,” Brolok said. “Besides, what use is it beyond making us weak? You heard the master archivist.”

  “Listen,” Nill whispered. “I have an amulet. Until my trial I wore it around my neck, since then I’ve kept it in my boot. It’s the only connection I have to my actual parents. It’s magical, but I don’t know what kind. Neither Dakh-Ozz-Han nor Ambrosimas were able to understand its magic. Now the other Archmages and the Magon know about it. Ambrosimas is certain that they’ll try to steal it to find out who my parents were. They’d destroy the amulet if they had to. And I have to stop that.”

  Brolok shook his head. “You can’t hide anything from an Archmage. Especially in Ringwall. Especially from all the Archmages and the Magon together!”

  “Yes, I can,” Nill replied. “In the catacombs beneath the Hermits’ Caves. They will never expect it to be there, and they won’t be able to see it.”

  “Can I have a look?” Tiriwi asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nill answered. “I would like to show you. Perhaps you can read some of the signs carved into it. But c
an the archmages see your thoughts and experiences, and find out anything about the amulet that way?”

  Tiriwi considered his words for a while and then replied: “I don’t think so. I’m not sure. It’s probably better if I don’t know what it looks like. I understand how important it is to you, and I’d like to help you find your parents, even though as an Oa I don’t really understand why parents are so important to anyone. But I respect Dakh-Ozz-Han. Our wise women revere him like a god, and you speak of him as if you had herded rams together.”

  Brolok was flabbergasted. “Tiriwi, your parentage decides your entire life. Without them you’re nothing, nil. Oh, sorry, Nill.” Brolok went red. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’ve got so used to your name that I completely forgot what it meant.”

  “I’ll never forget what it means,” Nill said. “But I carry my name as a distinction, not a flaw. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Leave it,” Tiriwi said vigorously. “I said I’d help you because it’s important to you, even though I don’t understand. Either way, learning about his parents is a more sensible goal than becoming a powerful mage.”

  Brolok rolled his eyes. He would never see eye to eye with her.

  Nill pulled his amulet out of his boot and, taking care to cover it with his hands, hung it around his neck. He quickly shoved it under his shirt. “It’s all about you today. I hope you can help us,” he whispered to the wooden disk. The false amulet disappeared into one of his pockets.

  The three of them sat in front of the magical seal. Nill took the Water energy and guided it through his body. He had imagined it would be easier. His body was mostly water, and the additional Water energy from the seal brought disorder to the whole thing. Nill could feel it all throughout his body since he had got lost in the underwater rocks beneath the well, but that was different to absorbing and redirecting it. He felt more and more liquid, diluted and powerless. Absorbing the energy was not the issue – getting rid of the water was far more problematic. He had never learned how and needed an idea quickly.