The Rogue Mage (The Age of Oracles Book 1)

by Ben Hale

  “I want them alive!”

  “We’ll lose them in the swamp,” Jester said.

  Raiden nodded, and together they raced around the canyon and headed south, toward the Evermist. As they passed the eastern entrance to the ravine, a quartet of Verinai burst into view, already casting their magic.

  Rainwater rose and shaped into sleek lions, and trees uprooted from the earth. The great cats surged into the trees and Raiden drew his anti-magic sword, holding it free as he ran. Jester drifted away but kept pace.

  Like wraiths in the mist, Raiden and Jester darted through the trees, but the great cats were faster. The feline shapes were liquid, threading through tiny gaps and closing the distance. Raiden’s boots splashed through puddles and snapped twigs, the sound of his passage muffled by the rain. In their wake the cats were quieter, their forms streaking through the mist.

  Realizing they would have to fight, Raiden slowed, allowing Jester to take the lead. Then he ducked behind a great oak tree, his boots sliding in the mud. Righting himself, he listened to the approach of the cats, gauging his strike.

  Water splashed on the opposite side of the tree and he spun into the open, leveling his sword as the lion streaked by. The lion reacted quickly but the blade pierced its flank, cutting from nose to tail.

  The entity burst apart, drenching Raiden and knocking him into the muck. He managed to retain a grip on his sword and clawed his way to his feet in time to intercept the next entity. But it latched onto his cloak and pulled. Raiden released the tie on his cloak and let it plop to the ground, giving him the freedom to duck.

  The second lion had been enchanted with threads of fire, the contrast beautiful yet lethal. With flames running inside the water, the beast opened its jaws, unleashing a burst of flames that set the drenched wood on fire.

  Raiden managed to twist away from the blast, ducking behind a tree so the trunk accepted the blow. Then he surged into a sprint and passed Jester. As the cat followed him Jester leapt into view and struck at the lion. The beast twisted to avoid the blade, alighting on the ground before circling Jester.

  Abruptly the lion began to shift, the fire pushing its way into the open, forcing a second head into view. It released a burst of fire at Jester as it solidified into shape, and then the two-headed cat split down the middle, forming two smaller entities. The water cat came for Raiden, while the fire cat lunged for Jester.

  Raiden ducked as it leapt, but the claws raked across his shoulder. Even made of water, they were like shards of glass, and gouged lines in his flesh. Hissing in pain, Raiden rotated to keep the beast in front of him, pointing his sword at the cat.

  “They’re just slowing us down,” Jester growled, stabbing at the fire cat.

  “I know,” Raiden growled back.

  In the distance wood groaned as the treewalkers pushed their way through the forest. Branches snapped and leaves joined the falling rain. The great shapes lumbered through the gloom, resembling giants as they closed the gap.

  It was a sound strategy, send the faster but more vulnerable entities to slow them down while the larger ones caught up. And there was still the guardian to deal with. Raiden’s stomach clenched with fear and he fought to control it. They knew the identity of the betrayer on the council, and that information could not die with them.

  Drawing his crossbow with his free hand, he feinted to the cat with his sword and it sprang back, right into the crossbow bolt. The anti-magic bolt plunged into the beast, darkening the liquid flesh like ink spilled into a cup.

  It stumbled and Raiden closed, driving his sword into the creature’s mouth. It burst apart, the water splashing onto the already drenched soil. Whirling, Raiden pointed his hand crossbow at Jester’s foe, but the assassin was already rising, steam coming off his form as the flames died at his feet.

  “Go!” Jester shouted, surging forward.

  A treewalker exploded into view. Wreathed in mist and rain, it split the gap between two trees and reached down, catching Jester about the waist to lift his struggling form off the ground. The assassin cried out as the limb tightened on his waist and he stabbed at the wood. The treewalker withdrew into the mists taking Jester with it. Raiden took a step toward him but the second treewalker appeared, forcing him to dart away.

  Growling, Raiden curved his sprint toward Jester, unwilling to leave him behind. Spotting the large form in the mist, he fired a crossbow bolt into the trunk, causing the tree to bend as if at the waist. The wood groaned and the limb loosened, allowing Jester to slice the remaining limb and fall. He struck the ground and limped away.

  “Go, you fool!” Jester shouted.

  The assassin turned away from the chance of escape and struck at the treewalker, plunging his blade deep into the trunk. The wood groaned as if in pain and recoiled, flailing its branches into nearby trees. Then Jester sent his whip at the second treewalker, the tip snapping wood, drawing its attention. Jester’s attempted sacrifice was the only way for Raiden to escape. But it would leave him in the hands of the Verinai, where he would undoubtedly suffer the same fate as Red.

  Snarling at the choice, Raiden sprinted toward Jester, but a crossbow bolt dug into the ground at his feet, bringing him to a halt. The assassin leapt behind a large tree, allowing the great trunk to accept a retaliating blow. Through the mist their eyes met, and Jester shook his head.

  “What we witnessed must not die with us!” he shouted.

  Raiden heard his own thoughts spoken and could not deny the truth. Snarling his rage, he spun and leapt into the trees, sprinting for the Evermist swamp. Every step was agony. Every shout a blow upon his soul. He fought against the urge to return—the people needed to know what they had overheard. Alydian needed to know what they had overheard.

  The mist deepened the closer he came to the swamp, and he caught glimpses of the bog ahead. Threading through the trees, he raced for Evermist—but abruptly skidded to a halt. The small clearing bordered the swamp and the trees rose from uneven ground. The mist was so dense he could hardly see a dozen paces into the swamp, but it was sufficient to reveal the moss-covered trees and vines. And the figure standing on the threshold.

  The guardian.

  Raiden had sheathed his crossbow, so he put both hands on his sword, twisting in an attempt to rotate around the man. The guardian did not move except for his eyes, which followed Raiden’s move with a trace of excitement.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Raiden said.

  “Even if the guildmaster did not hold my leash, I would relish the coming conflict,” he replied.

  The guardian swept his hands wide and the water exploded from his hands, streaking for Raiden. The torrent blasted into his chest and slammed him into a tree, crushing him as the deluge wrapped around him, tightening on his torso.

  Engulfed in water, Raiden managed to twist his sword, the black blade absorbing a portion of the magic. The pressure lessened enough that he leaned to the side and the water pushed him up the curve of the trunk, knocking him into the trees beyond.

  Groaning from the impact, Raiden coughed the water from his mouth and rose to find the guardian gliding toward him, a current of water lifting his translucent boots off the ground. He raised a hand and water surged forth, churning and shaping into a giant fist that came down on Raiden.

  Raiden rolled away, but the impact sent mud and water onto his back, knocking him sprawling. He fought his way to his feet as the guardian circled, his eyes lit with a dark glow.

  “Your blade stings my flesh,” he said. “And since my new birth I have not known pain.”

  Raiden swiveled to keep the guardian in sight. “You’re about to feel more.”

  The man burst into a laugh that chilled Raiden’s blood—and then glided in. Raiden twisted and sliced his sword across the guardian’s chest, rotating away so he faced the man again. The guardian sucked in his breath, the sound wet and delighted. He stood on the edge of the clearing and reached down to the wound. Raiden’s sword had cut the clothing and sliced
into his body, but instead of flesh there was only water. Ink stained the liquid but the guardian drew it out, wincing from the effort. When it was gone, the wound knit, and even the clothing closed. Smiling, the guardian hefted the ball of stained water and it straightened into a spear.

  “I do not care for your weapon,” the guardian said. “But I suspect you do not care for mine.”

  He flung the lance with such power that it pierced Raiden’s arm and exited to shatter on a tree behind him. Crying out, Raiden fell back, grasping the wound. The guardian smirked and glided forward on his wave of water.

  “A pity,” he said. “The kill comes so easily now . . .”

  Abruptly he came to a halt and a thread of blue light appeared on the ground. It touched his ankle and brightened, and the guardian stepped forward, wrapping a giant hand of water about Raiden’s body, holding him fast.

  “It appears my master wishes to kill you herself.”

  The wave under his boots swelled, lifting him off the ground and sending them into the trees. With shocking speed they blurred through Greenwood, slowing only long enough for the guardian to snatch Jester up as if he were a child. In less than a minute the guardian glided into the ravine and dropped them at the feet of Teriah and Elsin.

  “Well done, Tidal,” Teriah said.

  “At last,” Elsin said. “The Soldier lies at my feet.”

  Raiden struggled to rise but remained silent. Elsin sneered and strode forward, reaching for the mask to tear it from Raiden’s features. As it tumbled to the ground she began to laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the canyon.

  “You are just a pitiful elf,” she said, her voice full of scorn.

  Raiden bared his bloodied teeth in a pained smile. “How many of your vaunted Verinai have we killed?”

  “Don’t ask her that,” Jester protested. “She lacks the intelligence to count that high . . .” his mocking laugh caused Elsin to flush.

  She stepped in and slapped Raiden, the force of the blow sending him into the mud. Then she drew on her magic, casting a whip of pure, blue fire. She snapped it once, the whip cracking on his back, drawing blood. Raiden stiffened and bit his lip to keep from crying out. Another snap and Jester fell next to him.

  Jester spit blood into a puddle and smiled up at her. “There’s no need hide your affections,” he scolded. “If you want a kiss, just beg for it.”

  “She doesn’t seem the type,” Raiden said, forcing himself to his knees.

  “Every woman is my type,” Jester said, and winked at Teriah.

  Elsin regarded them with unbridled hatred. “I do look forward to watching you suffer,” she said.

  “No,” Teriah said.

  Raiden wanted to enjoy the surprise and fury on the guildmaster’s face, but the expression on the oracle sent a chill into his blood. She stared at him with a triumph that bordered on delight.

  “Let them go,” Teriah said.

  Elsin stared at the oracle, her jaw open in disbelief. “You cannot expect me to—”

  “Do it,” Teriah said. “He will be more useful alive than dead. As I said, one more task and then he can die.”

  Slumped on the ground, Raiden watched Elsin’s rage, and he wondered if she would strike at the oracle. Then abruptly Elsin reined her emotions. Stabbing a hand at the guardian, she spoke in a deathly calm.

  “Let them go.”

  “No kiss goodbye?” Jester asked as the water bindings were withdrawn.

  “It appears your suffering shall wait,” Elsin growled.

  Raiden caught up his mask and strode away. Then he turned and worked his way from the canyon. When he glanced back he saw Teriah’s eyes still upon him, still lit with that same dark delight. Muddied, wounded, and barely alive, Raiden slipped into the trees.

  He did not feel free.

  Chapter 34: Consequence

  Alydian’s eyes fluttered open, but it took several moments to recognize her surroundings. Then she noticed the walls inscribed with symbols of the Eldress Council underscored with the mage symbol for healing. She sat bolt upright—and immediately regretted it.

  “Relax,” Devkin said.

  She groaned and laid back on the bed, pain spiking in her skull. After a moment of panic she realized she was still Alethean. “I’m back at Dawnskeep?” she asked.

  “In the healing quarters of the acolytes,” he replied. “You’ve been unconscious for five days.”

  She groaned and finally met his gaze. Although carefully controlled, his eyes held a mixture of anger, worry, and, surprisingly, pride. She glanced about the room and saw they were alone. She sighed and sank back into the bed.

  “Is mother angry?”

  “Yes,” Devkin said, flashing a tight smile. “But she’s also impressed. Rumors of your power have already begun to spread.”

  Alydian grimaced. “They were slaughtering them,” she murmured.

  “They were bandits,” Devkin replied. “Do I need to remind you what they did to merchants on the southern roads? They murdered many in a quest for coin. They deserved their fate.”

  Alydian eased herself up, grateful the room had stopped spinning. “They were desperate people,” she said. “They needed help, not hatred.”

  Devkin folded his arms and leaned against the wall, laughing wryly. “You know, I wasn’t prepared for this.”

  Caught off guard, Alydian stared at him. “For what?”

  “For you,” he said, gesturing to her. “You were always strong, but Alethean has brought your power to the fore.”

  “I tried to die,” Alydian said. “But I just . . . couldn’t. If I didn’t do what I did, they would have killed them all, butchered them like rabid wolves.” She looked away as her voice trembled.

  After a moment of silence his tone turned sympathetic. “Every soldier remembers their first battle . . . and their first kill.”

  “So you forgive me for Alethean surviving?”

  “This isn’t about forgiveness,” Devkin said, pushing off the wall. “It’s about consequence. You cast an entrapment spell more powerful than any mage in recorded history. More than forty bandits were captured in seconds, and Commander Othan isn’t the only one asking questions.”

  She shook her head. “Just give me the worst of it.”

  “The Verinai are suspicious,” he said, “and rightfully so. It’s only a matter of time until they discover your identity.”

  “Any chance I can still let Alethean die?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She’d expected the answer but it was still crushing. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, struggling to bring her focus together so she could use her farsight, but it refused to come. She shook her head and looked at Devkin once more.

  “What happened to the bandits?”

  “All but one have been taken to Herosian and await their trails.”

  “The one?” she asked.

  His eyes narrowed at the surge of hope in her voice. “The Verinai have taken her to Verisith, and have ordered her to be executed within the week.”

  She nodded even as her gut tightened. A regular bandit woman would not have merited a private execution, but one who had killed several Verinai in Greenwood would demand attention, and the Verinai would not rest until she was punished for her crimes. But did they know who she really was?

  “She wielded an anti-magic sword,” he said. “Much like a certain friend of yours.”

  “A friend of a friend,” she hedged.

  He grunted, his expression making it clear he knew exactly who she spoke of. Then he gestured to the door.

  “We only have a few minutes before the healing mages return,” he said. “I suggest you plan your strategy before they begin asking questions.”

  “What do you suggest?” she asked.

  “Use your farsight,” he said. “Right now, we need to know how the Verinai will react.”

  “I already know that,” she said, releasing a held breath. Then she told him about her meal with Elsin. When she
finished, Devkin’s expression was almost scary.

  “She threatened you?”

  “She threatened Alethean,” Alydian said.

  He dismissed that with a jerk of his hand. “When she discovers your identity, there will be no end to her fury. She is not a woman that loves intrigue—unless she causes it.”

  Alydian managed to calm her heart enough to dive into her farsight. The tree appeared before her and she soared up the trunk, examining the branches of the next few days. A branch from a neighboring tree had appeared, one that had been absent before. The limb was bright and smooth on the exterior, but the wood was gnarled and twisted inside.

  Elsin.

  Alydian shuddered, her farsight flickering in response to her spike in fear. Containing it, Alydian examined the branches that wove together with the Verinai guildmaster. The woman already knew about Alydian’s entrapment spell, and had dispatched a quartet of master level Verinai to find her lineage at all costs. Depending on where they went, Alydian had less than a week before they discovered the truth. Alydian saw them following Alethean from a distance, tracking her with lightcast birds and monitoring charms, which Yaria and Bathic would help place in her quarters.

  Alydian watched her guards betray her and fought the tide of anger. When it cooled Alydian made decisions on how to delay the Verinai. The more she delayed them, the more the masters would become suspicious, and by the tenth day they would realize the truth. Alydian sighed and released her magic, and the room swirled back into view.

  “A week,” she said, “ten days at best. Then the Verinai know who I am.”

  “What will they do once they know?” Devkin asked.

  “They will attempt to manipulate me,” Alydian said, unable to contain the scowl. “But my response is too indecisive for me to see further. Whatever they offer, it will be something I’ll want to accept.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” he said, his features darkening.

  “I should reveal myself before then,” Alydian said, “before the Verinai can make their attempt.”