by CM Raymond
Before she had even made it to the clouds, Hannah had stripped away her outer cloak. Her body had been shaped by the physical training she had done to accompany the magical mentoring.
A magician is a powerful entity, but her intention was to become a battlemage, able to level a man with the power that dwelt beneath her skin, whether it be magic or muscles—or some combination of the two.
But despite her athletic frame, this climb was no joke.
After climbing what seemed like forever through the clouds, even her well-defined legs burned—like the fireball she planned on casting at Ezekiel for putting her through this. After an hour, she broke through the clouds and gasped. From this spot, she could practically see the whole heights. It was like nothing she had ever seen.
Range after range spread out, each taller behind the last. Hannah had seen artists’ renderings of the ranges, but in real life, the scene was greater than in any painter's imagination. Her eyes followed the closest range and found themselves staring at an enormous building, ornately designed. Its towers and arches were an engineering masterpiece, and the whole thing transitioned into the mountainside as if it had grown from there organically.
She immediately knew it was her destination—the temple of the mystics.
She gritted her teeth and finished the climb. As she finally took the last stair, she found herself at what must have been the front door of this mountain monastery. She moved to open the door, then hesitated, suddenly realizing she was well out of her element. There was no telling what threats lay behind those doors.
But she didn’t come here to be safe. She came here to learn what she needed to kick Adrien’s ass.
She lifted a heavy iron door knocker and pounded on the wood. The deep sound bounced away into the mountains, but no one responded. She waited for a minute, then knocked again.
“Come on, Zeke,” she said, hoping he would answer. But she stood in the shadow of the temple surrounded by total silence.
Focusing her concentration, she tried to reach out to him through her mind. Ezekiel, you bastard, let me in. I’ve played enough games. Still nothing. She thought that the communication spell worked, but she was still pretty new at it. She could have made a mistake.
Or maybe Ezekiel couldn’t answer. Again, the threat of this place tugged on her mind.
When it was clear that she wasn’t going to receive a warm welcome, she turned the knob of the giant oak door and made her way into the monastery.
The entryway was pitch black, and a tingle of nerves ran down her spine.
Taking several steps, she wondered what the hell she had walked into. Hannah spun her arms across her chest and produced two fireballs. It was one of the first spells Ezekiel had taught her, and still one of her most reliable. A spell just like it gave her considerable fear once; she was happy to return the favor.
The fireballs lit up the room and were readied for attack, just in case she would need them.
If the outside of the monastery was impressive, the inside was downright breathtaking. It was clearly designed to provoke thoughtfulness and contemplation. She could feel the tension from the climb and lack of welcome slipping away as her eyes followed the buttresses upward toward a mural on the ceiling. She had to increase the light of her magic to bring the art into view. It was a picture of a breathtaking woman with jet black hair and a perfect body.
But her most stunning feature was her eyes.
They were blood red.
Hannah returned to scanning the room. She took in its design as she stepped out of the grand hall and down a dark corner. It led down a narrow hallway and into a small, darkened room. She lifted her fireballs, but they did little to fill the space, despite the energy she was pumping into them. It was as if some evil curse swallowed all light in the place.
Just as she was trying to increase her illumination, the lights flashed on in the room, nearly blinding her. Shouts rose up from people who were all around her. Instinctively, Hannah spun and launched the fireballs at her attackers.
Just as she released her attack, she recognized Ezekiel’s familiar face. Then she realized that the battle cry was actually a single word: “Surprise.”
A group of robed men and women hit the ground, ducking for cover, but Ezekiel held his ground. He spun his staff, smashing Hannah’s fireballs out of the air. Small tongues of flame harmlessly rained down everywhere, like ash from burning wood.
The strange group of people looked up from where they cowered on the floor and began to laugh uncontrollably.
“Welcome to the temple of the mystics, young Hannah,” a man, not too much older than herself, said as he rose to his feet. “We will be sure never to surprise you again.”
Hannah turned her gaze from the young man and stared daggers at Ezekiel, whose hands were raised in defense. “You son of a bitch,” Hannah said.
He smirked. “Don’t blame me! My friends here are particular about the way they welcome people. I warned them that you’d probably try and murder them all. But on the bright side—” he shrugged “—it means you’re a friend now.”
Hannah’s anger dwindled, and she cracked a smile—the closest thing she could gather to join the laughter. “With friends like these—” she waved to the crowd around Ezekiel “—who needs the Governor!”
The mystics laughed, pleased with her joke, then moved together down the hallway. Ezekiel gave Hannah a tiny bow, a wide grin on his face, then turned to follow after the group. But the young man remained behind.
He stepped forward still smiling like a child. “It is good to have you here. Any friend of Ezekiel's is a friend of ours. My name is Hadley,” he reached out a hand, and Hannah shook it.
On closer inspection, Hannah guessed he was in his mid-thirties. And even in his bulky robes, Hannah could tell that he was fit. He had an angular jaw, and his eyes were soft—either because of years of meditation or the pint glass in his free hand. “I imagine you are exhausted. Please, let me show you to your quarters and answer any of the questions you might have.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said. “No more tricks today?”
“No more… today.” He smiled and looked at her sideways. “Tomorrow? No guarantees.”
As the mystic led Hannah to the left, up a grand, winding staircase, she asked him, “So, what’s the deal with the hazing ritual? Did that have some purpose, or are all mystics just a bunch of pricks?”
Hadley laughed. “Well, I’ll let you decide whether or not we’re pricks. But our little welcome does serve a purpose—an important one, actually.” They reached the top of the stairs, and Hadley turned to his right. “First, mental magic is different than what you lowlanders study. Physical magic has its own difficulties, but ours has a way of trying both your mind and body at the same time. The steps are a simple way of seeing what a person is capable of. If you can’t make the trip without losing your spirit, you will have a very hard time with making it as a student of the mystic arts.”
Hannah cringed, wondering if she had shown a little too much spirit. But they were on their way to her room, so she assumed she hadn’t completely failed the test. “And, the second?”
“The look on your face! It was priceless. Mental magic is hard. Walking around inside people’s inner thoughts is sometimes the most devastating thing a person could do. And we take our magic seriously, I assure you. But rest is just as important as work. When we’re not meditating and practicing, we’re drinking and laughing. And pranks are an awesome way to unwind, to take our minds off things, so to speak. Hell, I haven’t laughed that hard for weeks.” The man started to giggle to himself. “Fireballs... that’s priceless. But the old man called it. Ezekiel knew you’d come in fireballs blazing.”
Hannah could feel her face flush, and while she was always good for a laugh, being the object of their laughter didn’t feel the best.
Just as she thought this, Hadley turned and placed a hand on her shoulder. “No. Please don’t take it the wrong way. We weren’t laughing at y
ou… well, at least not in any sort of mean-spirited way. You’ll join the laughter, too. And once you start practicing with us, you’ll understand just how much we all need it to survive.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I get it. So, you’ve been swimming in my mind since I got here?”
Hadley’s eyes narrowed. “Ezekiel said you were clever, but was I really that obvious?”
Hannah shrugged. “Suspicion comes easy for me.”
Hadley nodded. “That might come in handy. But yes, I have been peeking—bad habit I’m afraid. Me and probably everyone else here. But don’t worry, you’ll learn ways to keep us out, or at least choose what we can and can’t read. Come on, let’s get you to your room. Tomorrow your training starts in earnest. You’re going to need your rest.”
He opened the door to a room beautifully furnished with handmade furniture. Sal was curled up on the bed awaiting her arrival. Hannah gasped as she stepped in. It would be, by far, the nicest place she had ever stayed in her entire life.
“Holy shit. This room is for me?” she asked, looking up into Hadley’s green eyes.
He sipped from his pint glass and gave her one last smile. “No problem.” He turned to leave, and then spun back at the last minute. “Oh, and Hannah, one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
He winked and left her alone.
****
“Quite the meditation practice, Jed,” Adrien sneered at the Prophet. “But I have to say, this image makes for a very unholy trinity.”
Old Jed laughed, not making any attempt to cover his large, naked body. “Ah, I guess my secret is out of the bag, if you will. Even a holy man has his passions, and they must be quenched so I can continue my preaching and teaching.” Jedidiah grabbed a sheet and gave it a tug, exposing one of the two frightened prostitutes to Adrien’s gaze. “These disciples of mine have been quite helpful. I’m sure she’d be happy to attend your school… They could straighten out your curriculum, if you know what I mean.” The fat man raised his brows and smiled. Squeezing the girls, they shrieked in nervous laughter.
The fool, Adrien thought. His anger almost overpowered him. He should have kept his mouth shut.
But, despite the rage boiling within him, Adrien maintained a calm demeanor. “Ladies, you will have to excuse us,” Adrien said without taking his eyes off of Jed. “We have some business to attend to.”
The girls grabbed their clothes in their arms and headed for another door off to the side of the room.
Jedidiah finally pulled a sheet between his legs, covering the ugly stump that hung there, half-lifeless. He grabbed a pint glass from the bedside table and took a pull, before handling a small glass pipe. Leaning off the bed, he pulled a brand from the small fireplace and drew on the pipe. The burning odor of the Weed filled the room, and Adrien smirked at the extent of the man’s hedonism.
“Care to join me?” Jed asked, holding the pipe out.
To the people of Arcadia, Old Jed the Prophet was a holy man. A wandering ascetic, fully devoted to the message of the gods. But to Adrien, the man was nothing more than a trained pig.
One that would soon be led to slaughter if he didn’t tread carefully.
“I have serious work on my plate,” Adrien said. “That shit will only fry your brain.”
“Does wonders for my knees, though, Adrien.” The man laughed, blowing a plume of blueish smoke into the air over the Chancellor's head. “Now, to what do I owe the privilege? What is so important that it requires you interrupting my prayers?” Jed laughed, his belly rolled with each grunt.
The man the people of Arcadia called the Prophet disgusted Adrien, but that was of no matter. He was valuable, and Adrien was smart enough not to let his personal opinions about people cloud his judgment.
But that value had its limits.
“You’re a damn fool, Jedidiah. I--”
“Well,” Jed interrupted. “Lucky for me, I’m a helpful fool at the moment. So, I will enjoy my time, and trust that the Matriarch and Patriarch will guide me where I must go, once my luck runs out.”
“It’s not your luck that has supported you, but my mercy. And it is my guidance you should be trusting in.” Adrien’s voice was level. He didn’t need to shout to strike fear into most. “The only reason I’ve allowed a parasite like you to live here, the only reason I pulled you out of that shithole you used to call a home and gave you a place in Arcadia, was so that you could keep my people content with the way things are here. You were supposed to remind people that the gods wanted it this way.”
Jed sucked on his pipe and then coughed out the blue smoke. “And I have,” the old man said through a wheeze. “It took a long time, but after the explosion in Queen Bitch Boulevard, they’re eating out of my dirty little hand. I’ll tell you; they can’t get enough of the shit I’m feeding them. I’m doing exactly as I promised… and more.”
“But the girl.”
Jed laughed. “Oh, come on. No medicine cures one hundred percent of diseases. There’s always going to be one or two that slip past my charms. You’d be the damned fool if you didn’t recognize that. I’m just one prong of your little plan, and, if you ask me, my prong is working quite fine.” Jed glanced at his crotch and raised his eyebrows.
“Well, the one that slipped through your charms has the potential to unravel everything.”
“If you ask me, Adrien, the little witch-bitch is your fault, not mine. You told me to make up stories about the Founder; you never told me he was real! That girl wasn’t a problem until he showed up. How was I supposed to prepare for something like that? You and your Hunters should have taken care of the both of them long before it became my problem. But you know what? I’ve made a diamond out of your shitstorm. Since she nearly blew herself and half of the boulevard up, my ministry has only grown. My message is evolving. Instead of a hero, I’ve painted her as the proof of evil we’ve needed all along. And the damned people are buying it. They’ve started policing their own. Pretty soon, you’ll have no need for your precious Hunters because my angels in white will be ripping people to shreds—neighbors, friends, and even family. If you ask me, you aren’t paying me enough, you stuck-up mother fucker. Now, if you excuse me, I have to get back to the Lord’s work. Girls!” Jed yelled.
The door flew open, and the Prophet’s whores ran back in the room, as naked as the day they were born. Jumping into the bed, the girls cuddled with Jed, one under each of his big disgusting arms.
Adrien’s heart was pounding, and rage built behind his eyes. It was time for Adrien to let it out. He raised two fingers, and an iron fire poker levitated out of the box of tools by the hearth. The magician slowly twisted his wrist, and the poker spun and pointed toward the bed. Jed leaned in to kiss one of the girls just as the iron poker impaled itself in her throat. Blood coughed from her mouth, covering the old preacher.
The other “disciple” started to scream bloody murder. With a twist of his hand, Adrien silenced her. Her neck snapped like a dry twig. She fell, lifeless in a pool of her colleague's blood.
“What the fuck?” the Prophet sputtered. His eyes darted around like a cornered rabbit.
“It’s as you said. I’m trying to find a diamond within the shitstorm that is your pathetic life.” Adrien’s speech had maintained its calm level, but his eyes were as dark as night.
Jed continued to babble. Shock kept his words from making any sense. “But...but...why?”
“No one can know of our arrangement, Jed. No one. I figured even a worm like you could understand that. As far as I see it, their blood is on your hands. Literally. Now, I didn’t leave my tower to listen to your excuses or to hear your meaningless assurances. You have failed your one purpose, to keep the Unlawfuls in check. But fear not; I am merciful. I have a new plan, one that even someone as incompetent as you can’t mess up. Not if you follow my command to the letter, understand? Otherwise, I’ll send you to work in the factory. I know a woman there who
would just love to meet you…”
