The Thirteenth Magician

by Patrick Welch

  “Not very surprising. There aren't any.”

  “What did you say?”

  Daasek smiled without amusement. “I know a few things about our enemy you cannot know. His name is Nyxx. He is doing what he is doing because he has to. Because The Thirteen is ordering him to. Just as he ordered me to.” He stopped. It was if a dam had burst. The memories of the Pasheur, Ensten, Alegro and all the rest—memories he sought so desperately, then tried so hard to suppress—rushed in, flooding him with pain, guilt, overwhelming despair. You have made me kill so many! “He stole my soul!”

  Borof was at his side in seconds. He held his shaking friend tightly. Even during their youth, he had never seen Daasek cry. And yet this bear of a man, a man who had defeated a warback with a net and a knife, was weeping like a baby! “Relax, my friend, and tell me. What do you mean, he stole your soul?”

  Daasek collapsed in the chair. How could he tell Borof? How could he not? “Borof,” he said in a shaking voice, “I have killed ... eleven people. Eleven magicians. All on the direct order of Nyxx. He stole my soul. I had no choice!”

  Borof cupped his glass with both hands, as if he needed something reliable to hold onto while he contemplated Daasek's statement. “We had heard rumors,” he whispered finally.

  “Not rumors. Nyxx ordered me to kill them. Nyxx was ordered to kill them. Now I have to kill him. To save Myniah and myself. And, perhaps, Horea as well. Because now there is no magician, no other of The Thirteen, to oppose him.”

  “So that is why he contemplates war?”

  “Yes. But not just him. Them.”

  “Them? These Thirteen you mentioned? What are they?”

  “The gods that ... used to control our world. Now there is only one. It, and Nyxx, now have Horea to themselves. And it terrifies me. You must help me!”

  Borof filled his pipe and sent a thoughtful cloud of smoke to the ceiling. “Of course. What do you need?”

  Daasek looked into his wine and shuddered. When Nyxx controlled him he always knew. Now he would have to devise his own plan. “Let us discuss more enjoyable times. Perhaps in the morning I can tell you.”

  * * * *

  Six days later Daasek was riding into the deep Mynian forest. He now knew where he could find the magician. What he didn't know was if he would survive.

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  Chapter Eleven: The Thirteenth Magician

  What sunlight penetrated the forest was oddly muted, as though it felt itself an unwelcome guest. Birds and beasts remained hidden within their lairs, and what few cries rose occasionally from the darkness beyond could not have come from creatures natural. There was a dampness that clung to the air, one that left a murky, oily film and an odor of disease and decay.

  This was not the friendly Myniah forest Daasek had traveled during his youth. Now no horse or rider could traverse these trails and not be overwhelmed by despair. Or fear. So much like the land of the witch-queen Aletia, Daasek thought as he guided his reluctant mount farther inward. Nyxx is not just a pestilence upon the people of Myniah, but upon the very land itself.

  The leather scabbard slapped restlessly against his thigh. What it carried was no ordinary weapon; like his knife sheathed behind him, this bore a blade made from a single warback spine, liberally blessed with the Love of Karmela. Borof had had it prepared on Daasek's instructions. Roaine had told him much, but she had never told him exactly what powers Nyxx commanded. He knew that Nyxx could control a thrown blade, but one wielded by a swordsman? He hoped he would get close enough to find out.

  Otherwise, Daasek was unarmed. Borof had discussed the sundry assassins the merchants had hired—some offered by the Mercenaries Guild without request for recompense. Experts with the bow, with the sling, with traps and poisons and some skills Daasek didn't even recognize. None had returned, although their employers did not know why.

  The fact Nyxx never made reprisals troubled them most of all. Had the mercenaries absconded with their tribute, or not survived their trek to do battle with the mage? The forest supported strong arguments for both, Daasek decided. Who could blame a man for recanting the oath of the Guild while venturing through a land as damned as this? And what spawn of Hys might erupt from the forest depths to devour the unwary?

  “What are your plans?” Borof had asked him on their last night together. Daasek now laughed, remembering the tale he had spun. Plans? I have no plans. What did he know of Nyxx? That he could control people, steal their souls, intrude upon their dreams. That he had a black stone, which he used to communicate with the Thirteen. That he once owned a satchel to which he could send objects from half the world away. That he was the most powerful magician, as well as the only magician, on Horea. When Daasek had fought the other magicians, he had known what to do, or at least been guided. Now his dreams were mostly benign, enjoyable, and totally bereft of commands. He would face Nyxx without magical assistance. Plans? What use are plans? Surely the other assassins had made plans, clearly to no avail. What surprises has Nyxx planted within these woods?

  At least, he reassured himself, he need not fear sentinels of the human sort. A captain in the Shore Guard secretly supported the conspirators and he had informed Borof earlier that Nyxx did not seek their protection. “Save your men for the work needed here,” he had told them scornfully. “The guardians I employ cannot be influenced by a mere handful of gold.” Daasek recalled the rat-like Abracina and shuddered. It was a boast he was sure the magician could make good on.

  His horse nickered sadly and jerked at the reins. It was sweating despite the unnatural coolness and their leisurely pace and its eyes were wide and rimmed in white. “I would not have brought you here if I did not need you,” he consoled it while patting its neck. His words had no effect. It shook its great head, convinced it had fulfilled its part of any bargain they had made, and stopped.

  Rather than abusing it, Daasek dismounted and ran his hand along its trembling body. The saddle contained a small parcel—his meal—and nothing more. He held its head and rubbed its nose briskly. “I like it not here myself,” he confided. “But I needed you this morning. Perhaps that is no longer true. If I release you, will you stay here and wait for me?”

  The horse snorted, then nuzzled against him.

  Daasek decided. “No sense in both of us going to Hys.” He removed the saddle. “Off with you now. And spread no premature rumors about me.” He slapped it once across its rump. The horse neighed, then bolted back down the trail. Daasek shrugged. According to the map, he was only a few hours’ march from the magician's home. He took a piece of salted grickle from the satchel that had long since lost its magic and chewed thoughtfully as he wended his way down the twisting lane.

  * * * *

  Midafternoon found him no closer to his goal. Or was it midafternoon? Judging by how tired he felt, he was sure he had been walking for half the day at least. Yet the appearance of the forest never changed. The sun never broke through but maintained its twilight cast. The fetid mist corrupted everything and the trees changed little from one crooked bough to the next. He was certain he could wander like this until Iofhee caught Phann and never know if he was one step closer to the mage's manse.

  He stopped to consider and heard a splash off to his left. A leaping fish. A stream had to be nearby, although he could not see it. He could use the refreshment even if the woods that blocked his way were daunting. He took a deep breath. Perhaps, he decided, it was time to walk the path less traveled. He withdrew his sword and slashed his way into the undergrowth.

  The branches grabbed for him and insects and other beasts chittered and scurried underfoot. They had not assaulted him on the path, but did so immediately when he left it. Still he hacked his way forward, ignoring the stings and bites of creatures he didn't want to see. It was as if Nyxx and his haunted forest were trying to prevent him from reaching the stream. If that were indeed the case, it was imperative he do so.

  He felt nearly as exhausted as after his ride on the wa
rback when he finally burst through and discovered the silvery creek. Now that he had reached it, the forest seemed to throw him out in disgust, like a fisherman flinging away a fingerling floundering in his net. Roots ceased their attempts at tripping him and biting insects quickly scurried away. He ran the last few steps and jumped into the water, splashing his face and body liberally with the cool, clean liquid. Then he sat on a rock in the middle and enjoyed a long drink. In the bright light he could count dozens of small bites and scratches earned during his brief journey. The wounds meant nothing to him. For the first time since he entered the forest he felt at ease, as if nothing here threatened him.

  That observation startled Daasek, and he looked downstream. The oily mist, the muted light, the cloying smell of disease and decay were missing. Instead the light shone down merrily on the clean, playful brook. Even the sounds of the wind and the animals were clear and joyful rather than distorted and threatening. It was if the water formed a barrier that the curse of Nyxx could not cross.

  Daasek thought back to what Roaine and Alegro had told him. Nyxx had powers, yes. Great powers. But they were still limited. He thought back to his six years’ journey as Nyxx's thrall and assassin. Only once, after he had seen Roaine, had he ventured across a great span of water. His brief time in the Lhanza River after escaping Byrnhea had been a treacherous dash among rocks and rapids that had demanded his total concentration. Aletia's own powers may have influenced him when he dove for mollusks in her lake. Thinking back, he realized that travels that could have been foreshortened had instead been extended by his forced assumption of overland routes. He smiled. He knew not how the knowledge would help, but at least he knew Nyxx had one weakness.

  Now that he had found sanctuary in the stream, Daasek understood the forest trap as well. Like Aletia and the Pasheur before him, Nyxx had constructed a labyrinth to protect himself. But the forest path was not like the other magicians', one of confusing intersections and blind alleys. Nyxx's was like a snake that had swallowed its tail. He could have wandered through the forest for days, or weeks, until something attacked him or he died of hunger or madness. That, he was sure, had been the fate of the earlier assassins.

  The stream, however, offered a safe route and protection; the way the sunlight poured amicably through the trees was the only proof he needed. If he would follow it, then the forest trap set for him would remain unsprung. Daasek hastily withdrew his map. Due west was the route he must travel. Daasek waded into the center of the brook. The sun was now a shining beacon before him, one that could guide him honestly in the mage's direction. Daasek began to wade slowly upstream.

  * * * *

  The hawk attacked five minutes later.

  The stream had given him a false sense of security and he threw up his arm barely in time to prevent the diving bird from ripping out his eyes. Instead, talons slashed across his forearm, leaving long ragged streaks of red. The hawk screeched and flew upward, ready to attack again.

  Daasek fell to his knees, stunned by the sudden impact and pain. His right arm throbbed with fire and he soaked it in the cooling water. He ignored his dagger. Slaying a soaring seamocker was one thing, but hitting a diving hawk was beyond even his ability. Instead, he took his sword in his left hand and looked up warily. One hawk circled above. He recalled the sightless sentry of the witch Aletia and grimaced. Nyxx had found him after all.

  At least the water was deeper here. Daasek dove into the stream just as it dove for him. He couldn't submerge himself completely, but he hoped the water would discourage it. It didn't, not completely. He was clawed on exposed shoulders and back, but the bird seemed confused and maintained the attack only briefly. Then, in anger and frustration, it returned to its circling position above him.

  Daasek rose slowly. Except for his arm, the cuts were not deep. He watched the hawk but it stayed in formation, now content to observe. From this distance its plumage appeared white, which surprised him. He took one step to retrace his path and it screeched in warning. So I can't go back home again. He took a step backwards, then another. This action brought no protest. So you are going to guide me to Nyxx. I appreciate that. He turned, walked several kines, then spun suddenly. The sentry remained above and behind. “I will go, but in my own good time,” he called to it. He stopped long enough to tear the remains of his tattered shirt into strips and wrap his arm. Then he waded west once more.

  The bird screeched again then flew on ahead, seemingly satisfied. “Go tell your master I am coming,” he called out as it disappeared into the trees. Fortunate am I that surprise was never a part of my plan, he thought and chuckled. The water was deeper here. He carefully negotiated his way around a rock and followed the bending stream. And found Nyxx waiting for him.

  The magician was standing on the shore, a crossbow aimed at Daasek. “Where are the rest of you?” he demanded coldly.

  Daasek looked up. The hawk was now gone, its task completed. He studied Nyxx, the distance between them. It would take an expert marksman to slay him from there. Then he recalled the Pasheur and shuddered. Nyxx might not need an archer's skill. Daasek forced a smile. “A crossbow? A mundane device for a magician, is it not?”

  “All tools have their uses. I asked you a question.”

  I wonder what he means by “others?” “Perhaps someone else wants to see you. I am alone.”

  The crossbow wavered. “That cannot be. I saw six, but then I didn't. And I've looked everywhere,” Nyxx said almost to himself. Then the steel returned to his voice. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

  “You weren't overly concerned about my name the first time we met. Your manners have improved, Nyxx. However, I will conduct no further discourse while water laps around my ankles.”

  The magician studied him, puzzled by his reference and angered by his irreverence. “I could kill you now,” he threatened.

  Daasek spread his arms to give a greater target. “That would be the coward's way, not the way of the world's greatest magician.” The only magician. “Besides, then you would never know the answers.”

  Nyxx smiled, a mocking grin that held no humor. “How true. And I do so seldom get guests these days.” He lowered the weapon. “You may follow, but leave your sword.”

  Daasek admired it briefly. Three men had taken nigh on a week to create it. The cost to Borof had been dear. And I have only used it to cut wood. He would return for it, he vowed. Daasek dropped it in the stream, then waded ashore.

  Once out of the water, the unnatural grayness returned. Daasek noticed Nyxx eyeing him, but there was no hint of recognition. Instead, Nyxx motioned with his weapon and Daasek started up the slope towards the manse. At least I've gotten this far, he congratulated himself. But that was not even half the journey.

  * * * *

  “You should fire your staff,” Daasek observed as they neared the manor that had once been the lodge of the Timbermen. Their walk had been brief, yet Daasek had never considered attack. The crossbow had remained aimed at his back throughout. At that range, even a blind man would have been successful. And he was in no hurry. If he was to create a plan, he had to learn more. Which meant he had to get the magician to talk ... about anything. “This is hardly a fitting domicile for a great magician. It is hardly fitting for anyone.”

  It certainly could no longer serve as a Guild building. Indeed, it now looked deserted. Weeds grew rampant in what was once a garden, several windows were broken and sealed only with planks, and the roof showed evidence of leaks long unrepaired. Nyxx merely snorted. “I have no time for such mundane tasks. I have an entire world to concern me.”

  “So I've heard.”

  “You try my patience. Inside.”

  The interior was in equal shambles. Except for the magician's desk, the room rivaled the back alleys of Byrnhea, with piles of refuse heaped casually about. Only the breeze that blew in constantly from the many cracks in the windows and walls kept the air breathable. Even the fool who worshipped Moogad had lived better than this. Looking a
t the wreckage before him, Daasek found it hard to believe that Nyxx was the most powerful man on the planet.

  There was a twittering noise and a large rat emerged from a pile of rags. “Look. We have guests, Abracina,” Nyxx appeared to answer her. “Abracina is my ... pet,” he added for Daasek's benefit.

  The creature approached boldly and sniffed him. Its brutal red eyes gazed at his face and Daasek was sure she recognized him. She backed away, then settled on her haunches and snarled.

  Nyxx ignored her. Now in his sanctum, he felt no need for his weapon. He tossed it carelessly into a corner, then made straight to his desk and relaxed in his chair. He looked at the expression on Daasek's face and laughed. “I have no desire for the comforts of other men,” he said. “My concerns are far beyond any you can imagine. But today you are indeed fortunate! For my hospitality, I ask very little. Just the answers to my questions. What is your name, and why are you here?”

  “I am Daasek. I am here because you have something of mine.”

  Both turned as Abracina let out a squeal, then bolted to Nyxx's side. He picked up the rat creature and began to pet it, trying to placate it. He looked at Daasek, puzzled and suspicious. “Somehow you have upset her. You should apologize.”

  “When she apologizes for biting me.”

  He frowned, then smiled, revealing the black soul-catcher that was embedded in one tooth. “She has been known to be temperamental. We shall let that pass. Tell me, how did you avoid my trap?”

  “The forest? A slight problem, but not too difficult to solve once you know the rules. Not much of a challenge, really.” Thanks to the education you have given me. Nyxx frowned briefly, then chuckled. “Tell that to the two men who are still wandering it. I should put them out of their misery one day. But they are entertaining.” He pointed to Daasek's muscular chest. “You speak with the tongue of a guildsman, yet you look like a warrior. Which are you?”