The Artifice Mage Saga Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Jeffrey Bardwell

  “You think hostages will save you?” Devin growled, pointing at Abigail with the tip of his sword. “Do you think she would forgive me if I let even one of you survive? That she would not sacrifice her life to wring every Black Guard neck? She dreams of bathing in your blood and you speak to me of crushed corpses? What do you know?”

  “Oh, I know her very well indeed, Devin. The lads and I swa . . .swapped tales at the bakery often enough. And you're right. That fiery filly would sacrifice herself and smile to slaw . . . slaw . . . slaughter the lot of us once she recognized us for who we truly were. But will you?”

  Devin stood mute. The question lingered in the air.

  “Will you sacrifice another girl on the altar of your ego?” the disguised guard taunted, gesturing to the hideous patchwork of scars covering his face. “Oh yes, I was there when we tried to cap . . .capture you the first time. Do you not recognize your own handiwork, mage?”

  Devin shook his head. “Why should I? You're just another Black Guard.”

  “Tell me, Dragon Boy.” The scarred man pointed at Abby. “Do you see that girl more as a lover . . . or a sister?”

  The memory of white, dusty bricks rose in Devin's mind and the youth ruthlessly squashed it. “That is no concern of yours,” Devin whispered, tossing his sword, “but I won't lose another person I care about to you Black Guards.”

  “Hmmm,” the scarred man clenched his fists. “Her mother was a mage. That foul, tainted blood boils in her veins. She's something worse than a magic user: her body is a mage factory. Well, we know how to deal with mages and their ilk, doe . . . doe . . . don't we, boys? But a mage factory? Her womb deserves special tree . . . tree . . . treatment.”

  So that disfigured guard was there the night they captured me, was he? Devin thought, watching the man salivate over Abby's body. There was something sick and predatory in the guard's eyes. Pulling the house down was an accident last time, but I know what I'm doing, now.

  “For . . . for . . . forgive me,” the scarred man smiled, reaching behind his back and producing a wicked-looking flensing knife. “We were never properly introduced. My name is . . .”

  “Don't care!” The artifice mage snapped his fingers and one of the loose bricks appeared in his hand. “If you're not Captain Vice, then it doesn't matter who you are. You're just another nameless, faceless Black Guard not worth a hair on the gods' asses.” Devin smashed the brick over the man's head. While the scarred guard stood there stunned, the youth reached towards the rickety brick wall.

  Devin carefully mustered the last of his magic and aimed it at the wall. He meant to fling a few, precise well-aimed head strikes to complement that first brick and then gather himself for the coming assault. You're right, you nameless bastard. I did keep a reserve and I've got a few tricks. Well, one trick. He took another look at Abby, then at the flensing knife still clutched in the Black Guard's hand. That man wasn't Captain Vice, but he had that same loathsome, oily feel about him.

  The old, familiar anger roiled in Devin's guts as he reached towards the wall and clenched his fist. The artificer called upon a few bricks to smite his enemies. The mage had other plans. As Devin watched, the sly, buried voice told him to dive to the ground. The entire crotch-level tier of bricks answered the call, flinging themselves across the length of the cottage ruins with brutal accuracy.

  The leader's mutilated face froze in a silent scream as Devin hit the floor and rolled towards Abby. A few unconscious townspeople caught on the edges of the blast lolled limp to safety, but Devin didn't care. Only Abigail mattered. The youth wrapped the girl in his arms. He smiled as the rest of the wall fell down around his ears.

  A wall was collapsing over Devin's head, but he could not hear it. All he heard was his mother screaming. The concussion of the wall falling sent Devin flying through the air and threw him clear of the rubble. As he turned in the dusty void, for a wonder still gripping his sword, which illuminated the hazy gloom. He saw the first brick strike Abigail. Then another. Then another. He felt each brick strike her body as though it was striking his own. The earth trembled as she hit the ground and the pile of bricks erased her.

  No, Devin thought. Not again. Not all over again. Devin closed his eyes and a familiar, delicate hand rose from the pile of bricks weighing on his memories, pleading. Devin opened his eyes. Abigail's arm stretched from the rubble, but this was no plaintive, pleading gesture. Abby raised her fist and damned the world.

  The armored Black Guards gathering around the ruined cottage drew back as Devin emerged dragging a molten sword in one hand. He screamed and heaved his sword into their midst. The glowing blade arced through the men, cleaving arms and elbows, but the youth saw little and heard less as he turned and dug through the pile of bricks. Several of the knights made as if to charge, but the captain shook his head. The screams of the black knights were silenced by the shrieking in his head.

  I'm not losing someone again, Devin thought. The youth felt an arm on his shoulder and swing before he saw Cornelius's concerned, dirt smudged face. “Cornelius, help me!”

  “What happened?” the old wizard asked, gasping as Abigail's face was revealed while Devin clawed at the bricks. “Not Abigail . . . ”

  “Abby . . . I have to save Abby . . .” the youth hiccuped through his tears as he clutched the girl's body. It felt like hugging a soft sack of broken engine parts. The bag was leaking. Red oil. It's just red oil. A broken machine. Just a broken machine. I can fix. Good at fixing broken machines.

  Devin screamed and clutched the object in his arms. His hands began to glow. The little cuts and scrapes on Abigail's face disappeared.

  “Devin?” Cornelius quirked an eyebrow. “What do you think you're doing?”

  The youth squeezed harder, pouring his soul through his fingertips into that shattered body. The bricks turned to black dust and plumed into the air as though a giant fire storm swept the building.

  The knights just stared. Cornelius waved his arms. “Devin, stop!”

  The youth cinched his eyes closed and poured himself into the girl. Her bones knitted with an eerie, gristly crunch. Her cheeks flushed and her chest heaved with that first, explosive breath. Abigail gasped and her fingers twitched as she clutched Devin, who was holding her with all his might.

  “I was wrong last year,” Abigail coughed. “You can fight for something greater than yourself. You truly are a Golden Dragon, blazing like the sun.”

  “You think I did this all for the town? For my sister? For you?” Devin smiled through his tears. “Ha! I swear it's just to avenge my lost foot. By the five gods, I really miss that foot.”

  “Liar,” Abigail murmured. He reached towards her lips. She pushed him away and glanced at Cornelius. “Devin . . . I love another. But you will always be my hero.” Abigail spit a loose tooth into her hand and smiled. “Looks like you missed a piece, my shining dragon.” Then she collapsed.

  Devin startled until he noticed her chest rising and falling. Abigail was alive. Saved her! I saved somebody. He laid the girl gently on the ground and pressed a finger to her lips. Abby was right. I can save everybody. Save the mages. He glared at Cornelius. Those worth saving.

  “What did you just do?” Cornelius growled. “What blasphemy did you just commit? That was no wooden doll. That girl was dead, her life was a gift received by the five gods and you plucked it from their grasp.” Cornelius clenched his fist as Devin was turning, a perplexed expression smeared across the artifice mage's weary face, and the old wizard drove that fist into the youth's gut.

  Devin gasped, choking as the air was driven from his lungs. “What are you doing?”

  “I'm so sorry, Devin,” Cornelius said. “I need to seal your magic. Forever. Death isn't something one should be able to . . . fix.”

  The familiar, sinuous voice screamed from the depths of Devin's mind. The mage clawed at the round stone wall as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the well. This can't be happening! You need to stop this! Only magic . . . can save . . .
you . . .

  The artificer only smiled. He leaned over the well, waving goodbye, and kicked a few loose stones down the shaft. Devin could sense the magic well constrict and ravel into a tight knot. It felt as though all of his intestines were twining around themselves.

  The Black Guards surrounded the trio: the sage, the baker, and the mage. Their swords were drawn, but the captain approached and pushed the blades aside with a negligent flick of his wrist.

  Devin blinked through the tears and reached for the approaching figure. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he reached towards his nemesis.

  The captain removed his helmet. Devin found himself staring into Jemmy's calm, dark eyes.

  No, Devin thought as his muscles cramped. Where is Captain Vice? Where is my nemesis?

  Cornelius shooed the guards away. “Please, gentlemen. Never mind Devin. Give Abigail some air. She has been through . . . an ordeal like no other.”

  “The girl is no concern of ours. We came to retrieve the Mage Devin,” Jemmy said.

  “Please spare him,” Cornelius said raising his arms as the guards approached. “I swear by the five gods you no longer have any quarrel with Devin.”

  “No?” Jemmy asked. “Why is that? I assume you are Master Wizard Cornelius Gander? This youth is a dangerous mage and a criminal . . .”

  “He is not a mage any longer.” Cornelius shook his head. “I have sealed his magic away forever. He is no threat to your empire. He is no threat to anyone. Please, Captain. Grant him mercy. Spare his life.”

  Where is my nemesis? Devin asked himself as he looked at Abigail's sleeping body. He tore his shirt and rolled it up to make her a pillow.

  “On the condition you heal my men, Sir Wizard, then I believe my thirst for justice is slaked.” Jemmy looked at the youth's metal limb. “I think Devin has suffered enough at the hands of the empire and now at the hands of his Corelian allies. I could almost pity the lad. If only the Black Guards could seal magic away like that. It would certainly make my job . . . simpler.” He glanced at the scarred man's corpse in the rubble. “Would that everyone could so easily be saved. Well, I came here to thwart Devin the Mage and he has been stopped.” The captain pocketed his brass watch and slid his sword back into its sheath. “Farewell, lad.” He squeezed Devin's shoulder. “May we meet again in happier times.”

  Cornelius healed the knights after they divested themselves of their brass watches and followed the old wizard one by one into one of the abandoned houses. After an afternoon of distrustful glares on the part of both the knights and the townsfolk, the Black Guards marched out of town. Devin followed them with his eyes. Where is my nemesis?

  Styx came bounding up, leading Magnus in tow. “Father, you're hurt! What happened?”

  Devin smiled and patted the wooden man's arm. “Lost my magic, Styx. Come, help me find my nemesis.”

  “Your nemesis, Father?” Styx asked.

  “Never mind that,” Cornelius said, pushing the wooden man away.

  “Get you filthy fingers off my son, Cornelius. Let him see I'm all right.” Devin pulled Styx closer. “Styx is as human as you are. More so. His wooden heart is more real than the black, shriveled organ beating in your chest.”

  Devin turned and looked at Cornelius. Abby had the right of it. Strip away the false perceptions and take people as who they are, not whom you want them to be. Styx has always been my son just as Cornelius has always been . . .

  The old wizard wiped the blood off his hands and clapped the youth on the shoulder. “Come, Devin. The sun is going to sleep and so should we. Let's go home.”

  At last, my nemesis, Devin thought, hissing. “Home with you?” The youth drew away his arm and Abigail moaned as he rocked against her. “I'd sooner bed down in a dragon's nest. I've been waiting to confront my nemesis and all this time we've been living in the same house. Eating the same meals. I thought you were my friend, Cornelius.”

  “I am your friend, Devin. This was for your own good,” the old wizard said, his shoulders slumping. “It was the only way the wouldn't kill you. Can't you see that?”

  “I see my enemy.” Devin narrowed his eyes. “I see the man who treated me no better than the empire treated me. My powers were always another experiment to you. Something to hold over me. You grant my powers, deny my powers, judge my powers. I thought I was your friend; I was just your lab rat, your fleshy magic doll. Another version of Styx for you to play with and just as human in your eyes.”

  “No.” Cornelius shook his head. “We were partners, scholars. But you abandoned scholarship to seek vengeance, Devin.”

  “I didn't have to go all the way to Port Eclare to vanquish my enemy,” Devin said, smacking the ground with his palm. “You were here, right in front of me. I want to hate you, Cornelius, but I can't. You locked the hate away. You locked everything away.” Devin tore at his shirt as he clutched his gut, trying to bring his dirty, roiling ball of emotions back to the surface. “You scoured my soul in the name of sealing away your stupid, petty fears.”

  “I did what I must,” the wizard gasped.

  “Not even birthing Styx or saving Abby stole this much away. Oh, but what's this?” Devin chuckled, squeezing his fist as he squeezed out the tears, straining to create a tiny trickle of flame. The fire was gone, but something lingered in the ashes. He spread his hand and waved his fingers in the air. “You uncovered something else when you swept the magic away. I see with new eyes, Cornelius. Everything is sharper, clearer. So many things I could not sense before buried in the clutter,” Devin giggled. “My untamed magic was the very distraction that restrained its own advancement and discovery. And now the mage is gone. Only the artificer remains. So clear, so obvious, so wonderfully clean.”

  “You held the power of life and death in your hands. You grappled with the abilities of the gods. No mortal men should bear the lonely weight of such awful gifts.”

  “No, they shouldn't. No mortal man should have to bear the weight of their magic alone, but they do. Whether as criminals or apprentices, every wizard is fundamentally alone when we should be cooperating.” Devin grinned and all the townsfolk and the wizard backed away from that manic, feral smile.

  “Please, forgive me,” the wizard begged.

  “How can I forgive the countless mages you spurned, Cornelius? You wasted your talents and your life. You ignored the plight of young mages and left them to the mercies of the same soul-devouring apprenticeship system you rejected. Yet you tried to force me into that mold because you knew no other. You are the magician who teaches everything but magic. You felt your life was justified so long as you improved one little corner of the world. How many mages struggling with the chaos in their minds could you have helped if you only reached outwards instead of inwards?”

  “Mages do enough damage to the world already,” the old man whispered, reaching towards the youth. “They don't need my help.”

  Devin slapped the wizard's hand away. “It's always been about you, Cornelius. You capitalized on magic without lifting a finger to help the mages that were the foundation and inspiration of your little monetary empire. You claimed to serve this town, but you only ever served yourself. Vice was right. You are the worst kind of hypocrite.”

  “They were nothing before I came here. A small mountain village in the middle of nowhere,” the old wizard screamed. “I saved this town.”

  Devin winced as his own words echoed back at him. We were both deluding ourselves, weren't we, Cornelius? I tried to save the town from a problem I manufactured, while you tried to bolster the their dependence on a cottage industry you created. Both acting for our own glory in the guise of heroics. But may the gods damn us both if we were doing it for the town. No wonder the old man saw such potential in me the day we met. He saw himself.

  Devin ignored Cornelius as the old man continued to rant. “Then, we have the imperial government, who fixate on their mage menace and seek to eradicate the problem. They hunt us to extinction because they fear what t
hey do not understand. Because we have no place in their structured, little world. The imps may not recognize our rights, but at least they recognize our potential, old man.”

  “You can't be implying that the Iron Empire is better than Corel?” Cornelius said, aghast.

  “You're both horrible. The kingdom and the empire doom magic users to a miserable, hard scrabble existence. You think the Kingdom of Corel is better? Yes, you let the mages live, but what sort of life? Most imperials would not kennel their dogs in the huts of your Corelian mages. All those talents, and you waste them growing crops or skinning dragons or teaching merchants. Such power, yet you cling to the edge of society by your fingernails.”

  “We are not so powerful here as the mages in the empire and perhaps that is for the best, lad. The kingdom does not fear us, does not hunt us like rabid animals. Mages have a revered place in Corel. We have options here. Which is more than the empire grants.”

  “Ah, yes,” Devin sneered, raising first one hand then the other. “Such options. Be a psychotic criminal on one side of the Black Peak Mountains or be a pastoral mystic on the other. Mages can do better than that. And we will.”

  “And you have a plan, do you?” Cornelius sighed, staring at Abigail. “It seems everyone has a plan today.”

  “You have inspired me, Cornelius. I will build a school, bigger and better than yours, right in the heart of the empire. I will gather all the young, lost mages and teach them. Give them guidance. Explain the mechanics of the well. Show them how they may dip into the source of their powers properly. Advise them on how to cope with the awesome responsibility. And maybe, with a little luck and patience, they will turn to order instead of chaos, to productivity instead of psychosis. We will only find our true place in this world if we take it for ourselves, Cornelius. Your rejection of the old system didn't go far enough. The imperials crushing the rebellion didn't go far enough. Neither of you had anything to replace that which you sought to destroy. The system must be stripped down, rebuilt, reinvented, and improved.” He smiled impishly. “Who better for such a task than an artificer?”