Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8)

by Vincent Trigili

  She hesitantly took a sip, then a gulp and drained the entire contents. “This is grand. I have not tasted the like for longer than you have been alive.”

  I smiled and refilled her mug. “I had hoped to use it to trade with Korshalemia, but that, alas, has been deferred for the present.”

  “Their loss,” she said as she took another gulp. A pensive expression crossed her face. “It has been too long since I could allow myself to risk enjoying this taste.”

  “Most of the bars in the kingdom serve the original alcoholic drink, but I keep a supply of this here to use when Mantis visits.”

  “Does Master Mantis know you have altered the drink?”

  “Most likely, though in truth it is hard to tell what he knows,” I said.

  “He is rather an odd person, Grandmaster,” she commented. She was a little more relaxed; not much, but it was progress. “I’m guessing he won’t be around much now that the treaty is gone?”

  “Who knows? He is not known for slavishly following the rulings of their council. In fact, I would not be surprised if they decide he is to blame it for it all.”

  “They remind me of the council before yours, Grandmaster: militaristic, and perilously close to being tyrants.”

  From what she had told me about my predecessor, I was sure I would have disliked both him and his council. “How are Zah’rak and his team?”

  She sighed. “The loss of Crivreen and Purwryn was a severe blow to them, but they are recovering. I left them on a forest planet in a realm below even Korshalemia’s level of technology. Zah’rak and Shira are slowly starting to understand what it means to be Sac’a’rith.”

  “And Marcus?” I asked.

  “I am concerned about him. I took away some of his enhancements, which seemed like the right thing to do at the time; now I wonder if I was wrong to interfere.”

  He had been badly wounded in battle, and through her healing she had deliberately removed most of his cybernetic enhancements. “How much enhancement did you allow him to keep?”

  “Too much, I fear. He still thinks like a computer. I should have taken all or none of it,” she replied.

  “Does he resent you?” I asked.

  “He gives no indication of doing so, but he is afraid to return. He believes that if he comes back he will be tempted rejoin the cyborg nation. If I had taken all the enhancements, that problem would not arise.”

  “I think it would. He is worried because he knows what he is, and that is a good thing. Too many people never learn their own weaknesses. Still, I hold out hope that he and the others will return to us.”

  “They shall. Shira and Zah’rak are still learning who they are, but they will eventually embrace the fact that they are wizards and come home. They need only time,” she said.

  “And they will have it, as much as they need, but please watch over them. Help them to stay on the right course. It is easy to drift when you are isolated.”

  Raquel nodded. “Absolutely, Grandmaster.”

  She took another long pull from her mug of mead. “This is smashing. I mean really brilliant.”

  I smiled. “I am glad. With so many immigrating from Korshalemia we have had to adopt some of their specialties, like this mead.”

  “Then something good has emerged from that realm,” she said with an uncharacteristic grin.

  “Raquel, how many more are there like you? Are there many magi from your era who used stasis or other means to survive until now?”

  “I do not know. I assume there must be more, perhaps many, as the effect took place over some time in the same way as it will take time to heal.”

  I nodded. “Raquel, I must make some more changes. As we discussed before, I am but one magus, and that means that while I am here I cannot defend another region. To function well I must spend most of my time here, in the kingdom proper, while others fight across the galaxy. The other masters also have limited reach. For all our power, we are still human; finite and fallible.”

  She nodded. “This is why you divided the galaxy into regions.”

  “Yes, but I need to go further. I have decided to make a new division of wizard ranks. I intend to appoint you, Mathorn, Salsartazar and Shadow to the rank of sub-master. Each of you will be assigned an area of expertise and will be first in line for a position on the council.”

  “Grandmaster!” she gasped.

  I waved off any objection. “I do not want to hear that you are not worthy or other such nonsense. You will have two major jurisdictions under your command. First, the Sac’a’rith: I hope you can eventually restore that order and bring our wizards home. Second, I want you to find anyone from your era who has survived, and either recruit them or if they are sorcerers, eliminate them.”

  She sat there in silence for a short while, then took a deep breath and said, “I may not be capable of doing that.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I am weaker than I should be,” she said.

  “Then let Kellyn cure you,” I suggested.

  Her head snapped up.

  “Do you think I cannot see the curse? Your aura is a twisted mess because of it. Accept our help; you need not bear this alone anymore,” I said.

  She looked down and swirled the last of her mead in the mug. “Every time I think I have grasped this brave new world you have created, you have to go and rock it.”

  “We learn if our balance is good when the ground is shaky,” I said.

  She looked up with hope in her eyes. “Can you truly free me?”

  “What good is being grandmaster if I cannot?” I asked.

  She gave me an odd look. The expression must have been lost on her. Her galactic common language was so good that sometimes it was easy to forget how recently she had come here.

  “Let Kellyn examine you and we will discuss what can be done. I am not half the wizard any of my predecessors were, but they had no life weaver on their team.”

  “On the contrary, I think you are a thousand times the wizard they were.”

  9

  02-02-065 - Lyshell

  I sighed as Grandmaster Vydor vanished. Sure, he could just disappear, but I would have to fight through the media to get out of this hospital.

  “I guess my escort assignment is over,” I said as Joan came back from Jessica’s room.

  “It appears that way,” she replied.

  “Now I just have to sneak out somehow,” I said as I mentally pulled up the hospital’s security camera feed and saw the mob of media still gathered around the front door of the hospital. Thankfully security was denying them admittance, but I would have to push through them to get back to the Emperor’s shuttle.

  “Take the maintenance elevator down to the basement; from there you can walk to the back stairs which lead to the garage. The shuttle can meet you there. It is a secure area, so no media will be able to get in.”

  “You have this problem regularly?”

  She shrugged. “We’re close to central command, so we get dignitaries from time to time.”

  I sent a message to the waiting shuttle, telling the driver the plan, then began to leave.

  Joan caught my arm and said, “Hey, Ly, don’t be such a stranger this time.”

  I nodded, not wanting to get into further conversation. The stress of the day was starting to get to me and I just wanted to get home. I said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ll call tomorrow night; perhaps we can have a drink and catch up?”

  Her face lit up. “That sounds nice.”

  I waved and headed off down the hall towards where the map located the elevator. I’d probably regret that offer, but right then I was focused on getting past the media and safely home. When I arrived at the elevator, I found two orderlies waiting for me.

  “This way, officer,” said one and opened the gate in front of the elevator door.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Just take it all the way to the basement,” he said as he closed the gate.

  As the el
evator descended, I finished the last of the reports I needed to file today. Once I was free of the media, I’d head home and plug into my maintenance pod for some much-needed downtime.

  My in-message queue was filling quickly with requests for interviews about both Jessica and Grandmaster Vydor. I forwarded them all to the public relations department and then deleted them. They kept coming in, so I set up a rule to blindly forward them. The elevator finally reached the basement, which was completely unlike the rest of the hospital. The area I had come from was perfectly clean, well lit and full of life. This level was dark, dirty, and empty of life. There were open access panels and various parts of machines everywhere.

  A single clean path led away from the elevator. “This must be the way,” I said to the empty room.

  I followed the path out of the basement to a set of stairs and then climbed up to the garage where the Emperor’s shuttle was waiting. One of the attendants held the door open for me and I climbed in.

  “Sorry to make you come down here,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing. We come down most of the time to pick people up,” said the driver.

  I leaned back in the seat and tried to clear the events of the day from my head. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a minute.

  “Where am I taking you?” asked the driver.

  Before I could reply, a message came in from command. “Hold on, I’m getting orders.”

  “Officer Lyshell, don’t return to your house; the media is there waiting for you. Head for the spaceport and board the next shuttle off-world. Make sure you’re not seen leaving. Mission assignment to follow.”

  “It seems that I’ve attracted too much attention again and am being sent away on a mission. Can you swing by a clothing shop so I can buy more discreet clothes and then take me to the spaceport?” I asked.

  “Sure. If you like, you can place an order and someone will pick it up,” he said.

  “Thanks. I think I’ll take you up on that,” I said. I pulled up the terminal in the shuttle and logged onto the network. I didn’t need the terminal, of course, but I had found that people were more comfortable when they saw me use one instead of just mentally sending the commands. After paging through a few catalogs, I decided on the rich-but-weary business traveler look. It should allow me to blend in at the spaceport. I doubted that anyone was looking very hard for me, so I should be able to get by with a change of clothes, one of my alternative government-issued IDs and a touch of make-up.

  We drove for a while in silence. I turned off as much of my internal messaging as I could and attempted to empty my mind for a while.

  “Sir?” said the driver, interrupting my rest.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “In a moment, we’ll stop and someone will deliver your clothes. I didn’t want you to be surprised.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  A few moments later I felt the shuttle slow to a stop. The door opened and a bundle was placed inside. The door quickly closed and we were off again.

  The driver closed the privacy screen between us, and I changed into the new clothes. I had also ordered a bag to carry my uniform and to hide most of my equipment. The shuttle had a small mirror in the back that I used to apply some makeup which should interfere with any facial recognition software the media might be using to watch for persons of interest.

  “I’ll drop you off at one of the busier gates. It’ll be easier for you to blend in there,” said the driver.

  “Thanks,” I said again.

  When we arrived at the port, I walked to the front of the shuttle to thank the driver and read his ID. As he left I fired off a set of scripts to send letters to his superiors complimenting his service. Probably no one would care, but I did it anyway.

  The spaceport was as busy as always. It did not seem to have quiet periods, just slightly less busy ones. I slipped into the crowd, bowed my shoulders and head and slumped along with the rest of the overworked population.

  I was still carrying my weapons from earlier today, but none of the security checkpoints stopped me as my systems automatically sent override commands. It was a boring, uneventful walk to the shuttle that would take me into orbit.

  Once on the orbital platform I was stuck, as orders had not yet come in. This was typical of my command chain: hurry up and wait was my normal orders. Anyone would think that with all the money spent on my hardware, I’d be too expensive to be allowed to idle on an orbital platform, but they would be wrong.

  I spent the time wandering around the various shops that had been set up for travelers. I picked up more supplies for the trip and charged it all back to command. If they were going to send me off without warning, they could at least spring for some clothes.

  After about a couple hours of waiting around and buying supplies for the trip, orders finally came in. There was a magus who’d gone rogue in the outer loop, and no one could find him. It’d take at least a week to travel that far out; A week while I was stuck on a transport just waiting around. Wonderful.

  Well, if I’m a rich-but-weary business traveler, at least I’ll travel first class. I sighed, bought the tickets and then prepared the ‘unusual expense justification’ forms claiming that this was required to maintain my cover. I’d submit it once I was en route; that way they wouldn’t have a chance to refuse the charge.

  A few hours later found me in my cabin on the transport ship. There’d be two stops to pick up and discharge travelers along the route, but I wouldn’t have to move from my cabin. I expected to stay in it for the whole trip, more or less.

  My cabin was equipped with a regeneration pod which wasn’t as nice as mine at home but was adequate. I set my door to ‘do not disturb’ and plugged myself in. I settled myself and was about to shut down when a call came in from Joan.

  “Hey, the media is going nuts looking for you,” she said. “They’re hounding me. They seem to think I can put them in touch with you.”

  “Are you planning to sell me out, then?” I asked.

  “Depends; how much do you think I could get?” she replied.

  “Not much, since I’m not on the planet anymore,” I said.

  “Oh, I see,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  Oh, yeah, we’d arranged to meet for a drink. “Sorry, I’ll have to cancel our plans for tomorrow. When command saw the media blitz, they decided to send me away for a while.”

  “I guess that makes sense. It explains why the media camped in front of your apartment look disappointed.”

  “Don’t tell them I’m gone. The more of a head start I have, the better my chances of outrunning my fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. Working here hasn’t given me any great love for reporters,” she said.

  I tried hard to remember how I knew Joan. I felt sure that I’d met her a long time ago, before I’d received all my upgrades, but the context of those meetings was still elusive. She talked as if we were on familiar terms and she had my private contact information, but all I had on her was an entry describing her as a useful contact who worked at the hospital.

  “By the way, Grandmaster Vydor said I should encourage you to think about his offer. Does that mean anything to you?” she asked.

  “Yes, he wants me to join him. I don’t know why, but he seems to think I’d do well in his organization.”

  She gasped. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Grandmaster Vydor only recruits one kind of person, Ly. Think about it!”

  “You think I’m a mage?”

  “Why else would he want you?”

  “Maybe it’s my dashing good looks,” I said.

  “Unlikely,” she said, a bit too quickly.

  “Well, I’m no mage, so it must be something else.” She didn’t know what I had become; no one did. Some extraordinary people like Jessica might guess a part here and there, but the extent of my upgrades was far beyond what any sane person might estimate.

  “Like wha
t?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll catch up with you later. It’s been a really long day and I need to crash and recharge,” I said.

  After some parting words and promises to keep in touch, I closed the call and initiated my shutdown protocols. The last thought I had before entering maintenance mode was: He only recruits magi.

  10

  02-09-065 - Lyshell

  I spent the whole trip in my cabin and most of it in maintenance mode, which was the same thing as saying I slept for almost the entire journey. As we approached the planet GEN1971-B I changed my hair color to raven black, put in colored contacts and shifted plates attached to my facial bones to change the shape of my face. I had also grown a beard for my new look. Implants in my skin released melanin, making my skin several shades darker than the standard light brown I usually favored. As most of my exterior was fake, it was all adjustable. I could gain weight or lose height if I needed to, but decided to keep my frame the way it was; that’d make switching back to my officer ID simpler and faster. Using a mirror, I took a quick image of myself and updated my rich businessman ID with my new look. This process took a long time, but I managed to finish before we arrived.

  The man who walked out of my cabin looked nothing like the man who had entered it, but since I hadn’t left the cabin during the trip it was unlikely that anyone would notice.

  As I waited in line to disembark, I pulled up the local news feed and saw my face; that is, I saw Officer Lyshell’s face. It was one of several I had, and one that would have to stay hidden for a while.

  “Who is this officer?” read the caption under the picture. A tall female newscaster recounted all that they currently knew. They had done some digging, apparently, and found other times when I’d made the news for my ‘chaotic acts of kindness’, as my commander called them. I suspected that he called them chaotic because of the trouble they made for him. I just saw them as the right thing to do.