Battle Mage: The Dark Mage (Tales of Alus)

by Wigboldy Jr, Donald

  “I cut my thumb on my sword’s blade checking the edge’s sharpness. It was sharper than I thought.”

  She nodded knowingly, and added, “They were calling him a ‘resurrection man’, if you can believe it. If there were a real resurrection man here, I am sure that he would discover that he had more powers than just being returned from the dead. Have you finished reading Resurrection yet? I might be curious to hear what you thought of the conjecture on what a man returned from the dead might be like.”

  Turning his left hand where Palose rested his hand on the table as he faced the girl, Sylvaine noted the scar on his thumb. It was already faint as if the cut had been years before, and the girl rubbed her thumb against his. Stroking his thumb and continuing on to the palm of his hand affectionately, Sylvaine informed him, “I hear tell that they can heal unusually fast. How long ago did you cut your thumb? Did you know that one of the boys had a thumb print left on his forehead from whoever fought with them?”

  “You hear a lot apparently,” he replied closing off his emotions defensively. Though he liked the girl, her continual inference that she knew who had been in the fight and what he was had begun to worry him. What harm a young apprentice could be to him was unknown and he wasn’t even sure if she were trying to threaten him with the continual beating around the bush.

  Her bemused smile returned as she added, “The apprentices wouldn’t say who they had the fight with, since they would get in trouble for fighting. We aren’t supposed to duel as apprentices without supervision and it’s frowned upon to fight amongst ourselves no matter what rank a caster becomes. I doubt that the other person involved would bother to mention it either. No one wants to be cast as a victim and to be the one who beat the other boys wouldn’t be much better, I believe.”

  Rising from her chair, the girl ran her hand along his right arm moving to his side. A second kiss on his cheek surprised him even more. She had shown no signs in her eyes of losing control this time. “I have to go find the next two books Eloria wants me to read. More reading about the magic of darkness, what a bore,” she sighed and removed her hand from his shoulder.

  He refused to look the way the girl had gone and watched for other eyes that had observed such behavior. Selvor and his two friends weren’t the only ones frowning after noticing Sylvaine’s seductive behavior. The mage wondered if that wasn’t the whole point of the girl’s maneuvering. Had she decided to toy with him to see if the others would challenge him again?

  It made little sense to him beyond the knowledge that Sylvaine had obviously meant something from the extra attention. Being someone who rarely built strong relationships with other people, Palose was unsure of the social and personal context. Worrying about what might happen did him little good, however, so he returned to reading his book as if nothing had happened.

  Sylvaine had implied that ‘Resurrection’ would reveal more about abilities that he must be currently unaware. His newest mission was to finish the book and discover what abilities they believed might be his.

  By the time Palose left the library late in the afternoon, the streets deep in Ensolus had already become shadowed. The vast mouth of the cavern faced south, but the sun’s path was far to the west now and only the eastern wall and Lake End held the sun. For the rest of the cave city, the spires and outer walls cast shadows creating twilight for the area known as the Warlock’s College and surrounding buildings. To the northwest, the sections held by the orcs, goblins and monsters of Ensolus were lit with lamps and lanterns as it became like night.

  The mage wondered at the sectioning off of the city. Had it been a natural migration of creatures created by the emperor’s darkness heading towards night or had there been a pecking order established in those first days. The armies and families of even the dark creatures had come in a mass exodus from the Silver World as he had heard it called, so Ensolus had formed quickly and mostly in the image the Dark One had wished. Even choosing the massive cave held with the emperor’s nature, whether anyone would admit it aloud.

  He was said to be seen as a collection of shadow when his people saw him. A man or elf once upon a time, his second birth had changed him to the being of night’s shadows. Some said he still had a physical body hidden within the cloak of darkness, but it had been horribly scarred from his battle with death.

  Now a city of shadows and darkness echoed its master. One shadow followed Palose as he traveled west towards Atrouseon’s laboratory, though perhaps ‘shadow’ was giving the apprentice too much credit, Palose thought. The youngest of the wizards that had faced him outside the library now followed the mage at a discreet distance, but he was also a little obvious in his attention.

  Pedestrian traffic was light on the streets mostly traveled by warlocks and their apprentices at this time of day. Cleaners, food delivery and the other service folk had finished their work in the north part of the city for the schools and dorms of the warlocks and wizards training in Ensolus. While Turless could be simply returning to his dorm at the same time as he was walking to the laboratory, Palose found it unlikely to be a coincidence.

  Turning northward sooner than he normally did, the mage tested his hunch. The schools were two more streets to the west and most would walk there to turn north in a more direct path. More labs and offices of those more important than he were along this street. Ducking against the building he had just passed, Palose waited to see where the apprentice would go next.

  “Stealth,” he ordered the spell and seemed to disappear from sight. Unless someone was to rub against the wall looking for the mage, Palose knew he could remain undetected as the spell even helped hide his magic aura from wizards. His own sight was muddled by the bending of light around him and his other senses magically extended to make up for the loss.

  When Turless reached the street, he started to turn and quickly stopped with a frown creasing his forehead. The boy searched twisting his head back and forth looking down both streets trying to find the missing mage. A chant, as the apprentice raised his right hand to his forehead, the first two fingers pointed towards the ceiling as the magic gathered, instilled the power of sight on his eyes giving a light glow as Turless searched for the man he was following.

  Even his magic could not pierce the veil of the mage’s magic, but Palose had seen enough. Moving quickly behind the slightly shorter apprentice, the battle mage used his Southwall training well against the caster. His right hand twisted Turless’ right arm behind the boy’s back holding pressure points to keep the appendage mercilessly locked in place while his left arm slipped around his neck pulling up on the chin. Brown hair brushed against the mage’s cheek as he released his spell and said in a quiet, threatening voice, “Why are you following me? Did you plan to try and get some sort of revenge for your friends after I left you unharmed last time? That can be changed if you want.”

  Shaking his head weakly, Turless’s breathing became agitated and his voice held a tremor as he replied meekly, “N-n-no, I wasn’t planning any revenge. I...,” the boy seemed more embarrassed than fearful as he finished confessing, “I have been trying to figure out how to ask you if you would teach me how to fight. I don’t need to be as good as you. I just was hoping to learn how to defend myself.”

  “Defend yourself from what?” the mage asked continuing to the hold the boy in his defenseless position. His voice remained low and menacing.

  “They will be sending me out on patrols soon and I am afraid that one day I will be in a fight with no one to protect me. If I knew how to fight, even a little, then I would feel better when that day came,” he confessed as his voice held fear for his future rather than for the mage holding him captive now.

  Pushing the apprentice away from him enough that Palose could react to an assault or spell from Turless, the mage looked him in the eye as the boy turned to face him. He shook his right arm and began to rub the pressure point to ease the discomfort from the hold.

  “There are fields for soldiers west of the emperor’s citade
l. You could find someone there to teach you how to fight,” Palose informed the young warlock in training. He had a feeling that like Southwall’s wizards, the warlocks and wizards of Ensolus trained little in martial arts. They were not trained like battle mages, who were viewed as soldiers wielding magic. There was a separation between the three classes, wizard, battle mage and soldier because of the differences in their philosophy that made each unique.

  Turless looked off towards the west as if he could see beyond the buildings and spires to the part of the city Palose had mentioned. When his eyes returned to the mage, he shook his head, “Soldiers can’t teach me the skills you have. They can only fight with swords and spears. You know how to use magic in combat, don’t you?”

  Eyeing the boy and noting his sincerity, Palose answered, “I was a battle mage before coming to Ensolus.”

  The apprentice’s eyes seemed to glow with magic once more as he looked at the mage. Shaking his head, Turless refuted, “You don’t have the strongest of auras, but you are much too strong to be a battle mage. My teachers have taught me about the magic wielders of Southwall, Kardor and Staron as well as others. They say battle mages are weak in magic, little more than foot soldiers hiding behind weak blue shields of energy. They can cast fireballs that might light a campfire, but they can’t destroy an army like a wizard with real power might.

  “If you were a battle mage, you wouldn’t be this strong,” he finished.

  Though the boy wasn’t being defensive or apparently trying to call him a liar, he was sure that Palose was too strong in magic to be what he claimed. The former battle mage had read most of ‘Resurrection’ by the time he had left the library. It was filled with conjecture more than facts, as few seemed to have performed such a spell who had allowed their projects to remain alive for long. Some had resurrection men that turned on them and the later part of the book had gone into several intricacies of forming the spell that could impart directives in the bodies to prevent such from happening now. Still few seemed willing to leave a resurrection man alive for long as they feared that they would still find a way to turn on their masters or turn into one of the wraiths that were more malevolent yet.

  Palose also couldn’t dispute that he was stronger, but that had been covered in the book as well. A warlock performing the resurrection spells had to use their own blood, like the harder to perform curse spells it alluded to, and that connection tied the two together. When the raised man returned, he had part of the master’s power inside of him, or perhaps they shared power, the book’s writer didn’t seem sure. These were questions that the mage was still searching for answers to and hadn’t found yet.

  “Do you know anything of resurrection men and the spells involved? Your friends seemed to know how I came here, at least as far as what I am. What do you know of it?”

  Looking less sure of himself at the question, Turless started slowly, “Well, I don’t know much about the spells. All I really know is that a body is brought back by a necromancer, usually as some form of servant. They can think for themselves at least, but they are no longer really alive.

  “At least that is what Selvor said, but you did show that you bled like any man. So maybe you are somehow alive, but maybe your original soul is changed?”

  Palose wanted to chide himself for even asking such questions, he didn’t have time to waste debating whether a resurrection spell brought him back to life changed or not. He still needed to get to the laboratory or Atrouseon would be livid.

  “I don’t have time to debate the issue. You can be pretty sure that I am alive and I believe that I am still the person I was before I died.”

  Turless looked dubious and refuted, “You served Southwall, didn’t you? Now you serve Ensolus. I would think that means something changed inside of you.”

  The point hadn’t totally eluded him, but the matter of fact way the apprentice pulled away the lie he had never fully dealt with before made the mage wonder what else might have changed with the spell. A coercer could warp a man’s mind in time, perhaps it was just something along that line, but again the question would have to be considered later since he was now becoming late.

  “I don’t have time for this. Return to the library or return home, but stop following me or this will end badly for you. I will consider your request. Perhaps in a few days we will meet in the library to discuss it more. For now I have business to get to, so this discussion ends now.”

  He was firm in his pronouncement and turned onto the western stretch of the street to go towards Atrouseon’s lab.

  Chapter 5- Shadow Lord

  “Don’t just stand there like a lump, boy!” Atrouseon groused as he had been all morning.

  Usually Palose had the morning to sleep, since he had been stuck watching the laboratory for the last few weeks as he guarded Atrouseon’s precious vessels. This morning, however, had been building for most of the week, or perhaps since the day his experiments passed Garosh’s test in truth.

  According to Atrouseon, the emperor was coming to see this project for himself. If they passed this last test, then Palose was bearing witness to a form of rebirth for the leader of Ensolus and half a dozen other cities serving the emperor. These children in their glass cocoons were simply waiting for the final breath of life to bring consciousness, so they could finally leave the womb.

  Palose was slightly on edge as well. He had never seen the emperor, as few had in recent years apparently, and the mage was curious about this legendary figure. A creature that had lived in one form or another for a millennium or more, he had witnessed more lifetimes than any normal man while living in at least three different worlds. Palose wondered what mysteries he had seen and what knowledge must be possessed by one who had lived so long and garnered enough power to put off death more than once.

  “What would you like me to do, master?” he replied to the warlock politely. Though Atrouseon didn’t require the title in private, it had been judged best to refer to the man as master in public where opinions of the resurrection men were not favorable. “The floor has been swept and wiped with wet rags. Every table and piece of glass has been cleaned including the tanks.”

  The necromancer ran his hand through his raven colored hair nervously. It was a motion paired with scratching his trimmed goatee that had been repeated nearly every minute since the warlock had woken that morning. With the extra time spent waiting in the laboratory that was as perfect as it could ever be, the man was going to wind up going bald from the abuse.

  Nodding at his apprentice, who appeared much calmer than the other four warlocks pacing throughout the lab, Atrouseon breathed out a deep sigh. “I guess that we have done all that we can,” the master breathed sounding unsure of himself.

  “The emperor won’t care about how clean this laboratory is when he sees your creations in their tanks, master. Once he sees them I doubt that he will have eyes for anything else, since he has been waiting for the perfect vessels for centuries,” Palose put out the words and watched as the men all seemed to calm down. Their eyes turned to the young man in some surprise.

  He was only eighteen, but Palose had practiced both being quiet and trying to sound wise throughout his career. Whether he had been successful in his attempt to appear so was outside his reference, since it was based on others’ opinions. He had only asked one person if he had seemed wise, but that was while taunting him before condemning him to death. Such an opinion was likely to be bitter, he thought wanting to laugh at the idea.

  Whatever his past, the mage had managed to calm this lot. Atrouseon, perhaps youngest of the group, looked to be entering middle age. Warlock Etriak had thinning brown hair peppered with gray. His face bore wrinkles that came from a long life more than the stress of recent days. Alimus was bald. His eyebrows were still dark, though leaning towards gray. While he was younger than Etriak, he was decidedly older than Atrouseon. Last was the one who seemed youngest to the eye.

  Warlock Thielius had elven pointed ears. One of the races from
an old world, many of his people had fallen to the emperor or joined him. Thielius was just a descendant of one of those elves and a marriage to a human at some point in his family’s past. His light brown hair was drawn back in a tail reaching the middle of his shoulders. Unlike the other three men, the elf seemed to be much calmer, though still agitated by the impending visit. His green eyes caught Palose’s gaze a moment as they all listened to the young man and felt a little more at ease.

  “Your apprentice has a way with words. For one so young, I would have believed you would be more nervous at the emperor’s approach than we,” Thielius said with a nod towards the mage.

  Giving a smile that revealed some humor, Palose replied, “I’ve already died. What do I have to worry about?”

  The elf laughed aloud, while the other men participated to a lesser degree. Both nerves and the touchy subject of resurrection men hampered their spirits as they waited for the emperor.

  When the time finally came, the warlocks had a brief window to gather themselves as four orcs in dress armor entered the room through the door with their hands resting on their swords. Their eyes took in the room and the men inside of it quickly and yet thoroughly before word was passed back that all was clear in the guttural voice of the lead orc.

  Palose was slightly surprised to hear the words came out in common. He had never heard an orc or goblin speak in the language of the north, until Listher in Ensolus. After nearly two months of exposure to the creature’s, often cutting, verbal jabs, Palose had grown so used to the goblin speaking that he had almost forgotten that it wasn’t human. The few orcs and other creatures he had seen while in Ensolus often spoke in their own language, so hearing these soldiers speaking thus was more unusual.