The Rogue Mage (The Age of Oracles Book 1)

by Ben Hale

  A thrill of excitement brought a smile to Alydian’s lips. Now that she knew what to look for, she slipped into her magesight and examined her reflection. Illusions were complicated enough for light mages, but mask charms were far more difficult. Many regarded it as the highest order of light spell due to the complexity of the expressions it had to mimic.

  The mask charm on the necklace was flawless and subtly enhanced or shifted aspects of her features in order to disguise her appearance. The caster clearly had a gift, marking her as powerful in all three aspects of magic: sight, control, and focus. Even knowing the charm was there, she had difficulty discerning her true features.

  “It’s perfect,” she breathed, and turned to Devkin. “When do I go to the guild?”

  “You don’t,” he said. “I managed to get you a slot as an acolyte into the Runeguard.”

  Surprise bound her tongue. The Runeguard were widely regarded as the best battlemages in Lumineia. To join their ranks was an honor that soldiers from across Lumineia aspired to. Abruptly nervous, Alydian reached up and removed the necklace.

  “I thought we decided I would join the Verinai,” she said.

  “At the guild, you won’t just learn how to fight. You’ll learn how to enchant clothing and armor, grow and harvest crops, and build structures with magic. You would also be indoctrinated. For now, you only seek to master the skills of a battlemage. Am I wrong?”

  “No,” she hedged. “I just don’t think I’m ready to join the Runeguard.”

  “We both know you are,” he said. “I’ve seen you practicing your magic when you think no one is looking.”

  Devkin folded his arms and regarded her, looking so much like a stern grandfather that Alydian laughed. As much as the prospect terrified her, it was a sound plan. She would have centuries to learn every branch of magic, but right now she simply wanted to defend herself. And being an acolyte in the Runeguard would place her in Dawnskeep, making it that much easier to switch between personas.

  “It would put me under my mother’s nose,” Alydian said.

  “I told her I secured a storeroom in the cellars to use as your training hall,” Devkin said.

  The fact that Devkin was now deceiving her mother made her plan seem even more dangerous, and she swallowed against her doubt. Then she recalled her cowardice when the Soldier attacked and her jaw set.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  “Excellent,” he replied. “A training regimen for new soldiers begins in two days.”

  “So soon?”

  He grinned at her worry. “Don’t worry, if you fail, they will merely dismiss you from the guard.”

  She blinked into her magesight and pressed beyond the purple clouds, the world turning into the familiar tree of the future. She followed her own branch and found that there was a distinct possibility that she would be dismissed from the guard, and only a tiny, stunted branch signifying success in the upcoming trials.

  Rather than discourage her, the sight of her slim odds strengthened her resolve. Her mother had always said she carried an indomitable spirit. Her tone had been exasperated, but Alydian recalled a note of praise in her voice.

  “You’re smiling, Mother,” Alydian had accused.

  “No, I’m not,” Elenyr had said. “Now return to your studies.”

  Alydian grinned at the memory, grateful that her mother had taken the time to teach her. Back then her mother had been a pillar of strength on the council, and led the kingdoms with a perpetual grace. Alydian’s smile faded as she realized she would never again see her mother stand as tall.

  “What can I expect in the guard?”

  Devkin launched into a description of the trials, when the Runeguard would test their knowledge, fortitude, and willpower. Her entry into the guard would begin with four weeks of endurance and combat training, where she would learn to master and use magic she was already expected to know. Low performing students were frequently dismissed.

  The second trial would pit her against the other students in a series of duels and contests, culminating in brutal simulated battles. Those who lost would be dismissed and banned from returning. The victors would then enter their final trial and journey out of Dawnskeep to eliminate threats to the kingdoms, such as bandits, moordraugs, or reavers. The triumphant survivors would return to join the coveted ranks of the Runeguard.

  As the sun dipped low on the horizon, their conversation shifted to which magics she should manifest as a Verinai. Alydian stepped to a prominent tapestry hanging on the wall, the threads magically woven by Elenyr in her youth. Without seam or knot, the tapestry depicted the circle of magic with its twelve common magics. The rares were placed in a smaller ring, while the handful of known uniques were displayed on the corners. At the center of the piece, the concave triangle in white showed the oracle’s crest.

  “You can’t reveal how many magics you actually possess,” Devkin said. “You’ll have to pick Alethean’s talents and stick to them.”

  Alydian pointed to the upper curve of the circle. “Fire, mind, air, water, and earth are considered the battle magics.”

  “True,” Devkin said, “but you are already talented with them. You can see spells others perform and practice them on your own. If you display the magics on the opposite side of the circle, they will force you to learn to fight with your weaker magics.”

  “How do you know I’m weaker with them?” she countered.

  He smirked. “Because you don’t practice them.”

  She laughed in chagrin. “All oracles gravitate towards one side of the circle. I take after my mother in that regard. But won’t using my weaker magics risk my dismissal?”

  Devkin turned to the tapestry and swept his hand at the four magics on the bottom right curve. “If you use healing and body magic you can get away with healing yourself, and trust me when I say you’re going to need that. Animal and plant magics will come in handy in the second and third trials.”

  “Plant mages are frequently earth mages,” she countered. “I can get away with five.”

  “It will draw more attention to you,” he warned. “Most of the Verinai have three or four, and being a mage with five talents will draw your trainers’ focus and make your peers jealous.”

  “The Verinai Guildmaster has nine,” she said.

  “And Elsin is the guildmaster,” he said, folding his arms. “Most of the higher masters in the Verinai have four, five, or six talents. Drawing that much attention to yourself will be risky. They will expect more from you, and you will already be starting at a lower level than the other students.”

  “Earth is one of the strongest combat magics. I need it.”

  They locked eyes until Devkin growled under his breath. “Stubborn oracle.”

  She grinned and turned back to the tapestry, her gaze drawn to the lower circle. Now that she had decided, the weight of her plan settled upon her shoulders. She swallowed against the sudden fear.

  “I’ll have to shield myself from the other mages,” she said. “Otherwise the first fire mage to look at me with their magesight will see that I am lying.”

  “I’m confident you can perform the darkening enchantment,” he said.

  “How can I do this?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “I don’t know the first thing about combat, and the other acolytes are already trained soldiers.”

  Devkin laughed, drawing her gaze. “Combat is about discipline and focus,” he said, “two things that you know a great deal about. Your entities may be limited by your lack of swordcraft, but they will be empowered by your ingenuity.”

  “Is that how you defeat the Verinai Runeguard?”

  “The Verinai’s weakness is their power,” Devkin said. “They are like a bully with a club. They always think they will win because they only fight those without a weapon. But I wield a sword—and I know how to use it. Master the control over yourself, and the warrior will come.”

  The words echoed what Elenyr had said regarding the Mage’s Mantra. “Do you re
ally believe I can do this?”

  “What’s the largest entity you can cast?” he asked, folding his arms.

  “A bear with fire or light.”

  “Have you ever pushed them to be larger? Or stronger?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve never needed to . . .” She began to laugh as she realized Devkin’s point. She’d never tried to push her limits, and becoming an acolyte would force her to. She inclined her head, accepting the lesson.

  “I’ll inform the other guards that you plan to extend your time of private study,” Devkin said, his voice somber. “After the Soldier’s attack, many already assume you are afraid to come out.”

  “They’ll be wrong,” Alydian said, her jaw tightening. “And I never want to be afraid again.”

  Chapter 8: Acolyte

  Alydian slept fitfully and rose early. She would have liked more time to prepare for the upcoming trials, but she was too anxious to wait for the next opportunity. She cast the darkening charms on each of her magics and checked them in the mirror. And then checked them again. And again.

  She tried to use her farsight but was too distracted. The only thing she managed to discover was that her mother thought she was training in her own quarters. Alydian felt guilty for deceiving her—especially when she was ill—but was grateful her ruse was intact. Raine visited for lunch and asked how she was, and Alydian nearly told her.

  “Just rattled,” Alydian finally said.

  Raine smiled sympathetically. “Enjoy your personal study. I’ll do what I can to give you time to recover.”

  “Thanks, Raine,” Alydian said, relieved her friend did not push the issue.

  When Raine departed, Alydian stepped to her balcony and watched the sunlight dance across Dawnskeep. The morning had been a blur, but the afternoon dragged by, each second an agonizing delay. Restless and uneasy, she tried to research more about the three trials she would face, wishing Devkin were there for her to talk to. At night she visited her mother. Then she returned to her quarters and tried to sleep. After several sleepless hours, she rose and stared at her reflection.

  “I will not be afraid,” she said.

  Donning the blue uniform of an acolyte, she added the Alethean necklace and stepped in front of the mirror once more. She looked strong and fit, her gaze hard, her jaw set. Ignoring the slight tremble in her hands, she removed the necklace and pulled a loose-fitting dress over her uniform.

  Alethean’s supposed family had arranged for her to stay with a cousin in the city rather than in the barracks. The authority for an acolyte’s family to do so would invite speculation, but was necessary. Alydian’s regular guards would quickly notice if she did not return each night.

  Alydian slipped the Alethean necklace into a pouch at her side, gathered up a book, and stepped into her receiving room. She was not surprised to find Devkin and a pair of guards already waiting for her.

  “Oracle Alydian,” Devkin said, inclining his head. “As you requested, your morning meal has been delivered to the library.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she replied, falling into step as he strode to the door and entered the hall. The other two guards took up position behind Alydian as they made their way to the ascender. After the losses sustained in the attack on her wagon, she wasn’t surprised that she didn’t recognize them.

  Alydian looked at them more closely. Both Verinai, they glided down the hallway with wary ease, a talent that she had never noticed before, but now found herself envious of. The elven woman noticed her inspection and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oracle?”

  “What is your name?” Alydian asked.

  “Yaria,” she said.

  Alydian’s eyes flicked to the dwarf, and he answered gruffly. “Bathik.”

  “How long have you been in the guard?”

  “Twelve years,” she replied.

  “Forty-seven,” he said.

  Alydian smiled. “You have my gratitude for joining Devkin’s command.”

  Yaria’s gaze shifted to Devkin and a trace of irritation appeared. “It was not our choice,” she said.

  Alydian wanted to rebuke her, but held her tongue. Devkin was more than capable of fighting his own battles. Turning her attention forward, she followed her captain to the ascender and waited as it lowered them to the courtyard below. Then they strode across the courtyard to central tower.

  Dawn had yet to illuminate the horizon but the tower remained bright, the light bathing the courtyard in a soft glow. It was hours earlier than her usual time to start her studies, but the acolyte soldiers were expected to assemble at dawn.

  They reached the main tower and entered one of the side doors. The enchantments of the wall made it appear solid from the exterior but like glass from the interior. As they strode the length of the hall Alydian looked outside and spotted acolytes gathering at the north gate.

  She looked away before her nervousness could betray her and followed Devkin to one of the two smaller ascenders in the tower. A large ascender was situated beside the main entrance but was reserved for arriving dignitaries and their parties. Alydian and her guards entered the smaller ascender and the dwarven machinery lifted them to the second level. Alydian surreptitiously watched the gathering of acolytes, struggling to contain the rising nervousness in her gut.

  They reached the library and when the doors opened Devkin motioned the other guards to remain at the entrance. Then Devkin led her inside. Aside from the three ascenders, the library had no rooms, allowing patrons a full view of Dawnskeep and Horizon through the transparent outer walls. Comfortable couches and chairs lined the exterior, while towering bookshelves reached to the ceiling high above. Winding staircases climbed up the bookshelves to the upper balconies and terraces, where more books and couches were visible.

  Even this early, a handful of patrons walked the labyrinth of bookshelves. The library was open to all, but aside from gawking common folk, the patrons were usually mages. Alydian wound her way to a small staircase near the southern arch and stepped through the illusion of a bookshelf, ascending the hidden staircase to a room ensconced between three bookshelves.

  The library may have looked open, but several secret chambers dotted the space, private places of study that enterprising mages had cast upon its construction. Devkin remained outside while she quickly stripped her dress and donned the necklace of Alethean. Then she exited to find him on the staircase.

  “Ready?” he murmured.

  “As ready as I can be,” she said.

  He nodded and guided her down the stairs, stepping through the illusion. Then she paused and turned to him, and the grizzled soldier smiled as he regarded her.

  “Do not pretend to be Alethean,” he said. “Become her. Think like her, eat like her, fight like her.”

  “What if I am discovered?” she asked. She tried to use her farsight to answer for herself, but fear blocked her magic.

  “Then you will be reprimanded by the council,” he said. “And the incident will forever stain your history.”

  “That’s not comforting.”

  His smile turned wry. “It wasn’t meant to be. Just don’t get yourself killed, or it will be my head.”

  “I’ll try to stay alive,” she said, and turned away.

  “One more thing.”

  She turned back and saw the glimmer of steel reflected in his eyes. “Make me proud.”

  She grinned, Devkin’s confidence finally stilling her nervousness. He was a veteran soldier and skilled tactician. If he believed in her, who was she to disagree? Inclining her head to him, she turned and slipped away.

  As she walked the halls of the library she rehearsed the story they had concocted for her past. She encountered several guards, but they paid her no mind. A moment later she reached the second ascender that brought her to the courtyard. Passing the sentries at the entrance, she strode toward the north gate where the acolytes were gathering.

  Two score had already assembled and formed into two groups. All Verinai, the l
arger group stood apart, whispering and laughing while casting disparaging looks at the smaller group. Their expressions were confident and haughty, and Alydian spotted elves, humans, and a single dwarf.

  The second group contained mostly humans with a trio of elves and a gnome in its midst. Alydian noticed that several bore the insignia of the single mage guilds on their shoulders, while a few had no insignia, marking them as magicless.

  Alydian would have liked to join them, but the motion would invite more curiosity than she cared for, so she joined the ranks of the Verinai. Several cast her appraising looks until one noticed the insignia on Alydian’s shoulder.

  “A quinmage?” the elf said, and then sniffed. “But only one combat magic.”

  “Afraid she’ll surpass you, Holan?” another elf teased.

  “You’ve only got three talents, Erona,” he said scornfully. “I have all four combat magics. I bet she’s practically a barren.”

  Alydian bristled at the term. “Is your pride a fifth talent? Or is that your stupidity?”

  He whirled to face her, but the other Verinai laughed at his expense. Erona stepped to Alydian’s side and gestured to Holan.

  “Forgive Holan,” she said blithely. “He has to compensate for his stature.”

  Holan flushed. “I’m taller than you.”

  “But short for an elven male,” Erona said. “Perhaps there is a barren human in your ancestry.”

  He snarled at her but another voice barked an order and the entire group turned. Commander Othan strode to them with a trio of Runeguard lieutenants. The elf looked exactly as he had when he’d attempted to take command from Devkin, and Alydian felt an involuntary look of disgust creep onto her features. The commander came to a halt and his gaze swept the two groups of acolytes, his dour expression turning scornful.

  “Most of you came from a guild that praised you, where your peers fawned over your talents and power. I assure you, your abilities are meaningless here.”

  His boots clipped the stone as he paced in front of them. Hard and menacing, the sound made Alydian swallow when his eyes connected with hers. For an instant she feared he’d detected her, but his gaze slid off her face with such disdain that she frowned.