by Unknown
“So she never learned what happened to her husband?”
“No, but we know who was responsible. The wizard in the story was the Blood Mage. He did a good deed to earn the farmer’s trust and then used him for some fractal-forsaken purpose, turning him into the red-eyed monster in the story. That, Slate, is why I believe your story. It’s also why I don’t trust wizards.” Slate knew a wizard who could probably help plants grow, but he refused to believe that Lucus, the pacifist, was capable of creating the destruction in Pillar and Minot. “So what do we do about the red-eyes?”
“We? I think we’re starting to turn you into a Bellator man.”
“I just want to stop the red-eyes and anything else the Blood Mage sends after us.” More importantly, he had to pay back the bastard who had killed his parents. Now that he saw what his father was up against, a sense of pride swelled up in him. A pile of bodies lay at the feet of his father’s corpse. Given the tenacity of the attackers, his father had fought well.
“Me too. That’s why I’m reporting immediately to King Darik. We’ll force this Blood Mage from hiding.” Villifor patted his pocket where the scrap of fabric was held. “I’ll have someone drive the lunch cart and you can ride along.”
After the Bellator camp had packed up and returned to Ravinai, Slate was happily surprised to see Sana awaiting him. “The wounded warrior returns home…” Sana opened with a smile.
“I guess the trick to having you around is to keep getting injured.” Slate limped over and gave her a hug.
“Guys always want what they can’t have…if I was hanging around all the time, you’d be bored within a week.”
“Modesty doesn’t suit you, Sana.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. You should be damn thankful to see me. If that ever changes, you’ll regret it.”
“That’s my girl. Now help me home.”
“I thought tonight we could try something different. Let’s get out of the city, if you can make it that far.” The last part was spoken as a challenge, just to make sure Slate obliged.
“I know just the spot. The Sicarius headmaster dropped me off on a hill overlooking the city. I imagine it’d be a pretty nice place to visit if you’re not shaking off the effects of a shock stick.”
“Toughen up. The next thing you know you’ll be asking me to heal you too.” Sana gestured toward his burned and bitten arm.
“Well, they were pretty crude with the stitches. I wouldn’t want an unsightly scar.” Slate referenced his recent scar invoking lacerations.
“Scars I can deal with…but I’ll heal you later. I don’t want you to be too fatigued…during the walk, I mean.” Her smile hinted that she was looking forward to wearing him out in ways other than healing. Slate leaned in for a kiss but was dismissed. “Don’t get warmed up too quickly. I won’t be able to make it to the infirmary tomorrow and wanted to discuss something with you.”
“Why won’t you make it to the meeting at Ibson’s?” Slate and Sana reached the hill overlooking the city.
“King Darik has been increasingly paranoid lately and I want to be in the King’s court when Villifor reports on Minot. I haven’t been able to figure out his plans, but I think he’s tired of waiting. Darik has always been a man of action and my source thinks he’s looking for an excuse to force his opponent out of hiding.
“Your source?”
“I’ve been hanging around one of the members of the court.” Slate let his feelings on the subject unintentionally show up on his face. “Relax, he has a hooked nose, terrible breath, and the sense of humor of someone sentenced to the gallows. What happened when you got back to camp?”
“I got sewn up by someone who won’t be opening a tailor’s shop anytime soon and spoke with Villifor.”
“Let’s get the healing over with…anything to stop your self-pitying. I mean, it’s just a spike through the foot.” Sana teased him, but there was concern in her eyes and she was very cautious in removing his boots. Slate thought it might be worth waiting a little longer, but the walk to the hill had done him in. Slate was relieved when Sana began probing his foot. “You’re right. These stitches are atrocious. Wasn’t there an Ispirtu Guardsmen there to fix you up?” Slate relaxed at the comforting probing of Sana. He just wouldn’t tell her that.
“Brannon ordered his wizards to stay in Ispirtu because he doesn’t see the value in chasing after inconsequential battles. He’s conserving his forces for when the Blood Mage surfaces…or he’s combining his forces for when he surfaces.” Sana frowned a bit at that last comment, but she continued her healing probe, moving from his foot to his leg and now toward his burned and bitten arm. She finished up, leaving Slate without pain but extremely tired.
“What did Villifor say to you?”
“Well…I know what he’ll be reporting tomorrow to Darik, so you can probably sleep in a little in the morning.”
Sana sat up from the hill to face him. “…and you didn’t tell me until now?”
Slate enjoyed having a leg up on Sana for once, so he strung it out a bit. “It makes me more mysterious…I wouldn’t want to get boring.” Slate sat up for a kiss and was promptly pushed backward.
“I’m less interested in any of your mysteries and more interested in information. Tell me.”
“Magnus discovered a piece of purple fabric bearing an upside-down lion. Villifor took it as a symbol that Regallo supporters were trying to overturn King Darik’s rule.”
“Darik has been looking for an excuse to act and Villifor could have given Magnus the piece of fabric to ‘discover.’ I will need to be at court tomorrow to judge Darik’s reaction. Is there anything else you’ve forgotten to tell me?”
Properly admonished, Slate continued his report. “Actually yes, Villifor knows about the red-eyes and is intent on forcing the hand of the Blood Mage.”
“That fool. What if this is part of some larger plan? The Blood Mage subjugated some simple villagers in Minot. What would happen if one of the headmasters was the Blood Mage? Can you imagine red-eyed wizards, Bellator fighters, or Sicarius shadows that are driven beyond the point of sanity?” Sana hung her head. “There is more to the story than Lucus told. He accurately described what happened to the villagers, but he described it in terms of magic. That doesn’t properly convey the atrocities that red-eyes committed. When I was searching libraries for information on your Perceptor abilities, I came across a commoner’s chronicle of his days during the reign of the Blood Mages. Friends and neighbors were subjugated and forced to serve in the Blood Mage armies. Red-eyes were the foot soldiers in the battles fought between Blood Mages. Their effectiveness and brutality in battle gave them their own name. What you fought today was known as a Fury. Fractal’s fortune we can stop this mess before we see guardsmen turned into them.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A NECESSARY CHOICE
A brisk wind slapped Slate in the face and reminded him of the approaching winter, but the sun peaked over the horizon and fought to stave off the inevitable freeze. Its rays gave a colorful show to anyone ambitious enough to wake up and watch. Slate enjoyed the few moments of peace and wondered at the world around him before it awoke for the day and all its activities.
Slate walked from the hilltop overlooking the city toward the infirmary, amazed at the changes from yesterday. The body remembers pain long after it is gone, and each step on his newly healed foot was precluded by an internal cringe and followed with a sigh of blissful relief. Sana had done a wonderful job of healing him. Her studies with Lucus must be paying off.
The sprawling infirmary was complicated enough that he didn’t try to find Ibson’s room on his own. He inquired with one of the white-robed wizards and was graciously led to his room. Lucus and Rainier were already seated at the table. Sana was absent as expected, but Lattimer’s absence concerned him. Had Rainier failed to make amends?
Another arrives,
Who could it be?
I hope it’s my lady,
Come to see
me.
“I’m sorry, Ibson, but the lady present at our last conversation won’t be available today. We did bring Rainier though…” Slate’s joke produced a scowl from Rainier, a grin from Lucus, and caused Ibson to pout rather dramatically. The door opened behind him and Lattimer entered, alleviating Slate’s concerns.
Slate walked to meet him. “I failed to trust you the other night. You saved my life and deserve better. I won’t make the same mistake twice.” Slate extended his hand.
After a moment, Lattimer shook it. “Malethya is dangerous in the best of times. It has become so volatile lately that allegiances can change quickly. My father thrives in that environment. I yearn for more…stability. Don’t mistrust me because of the deeds of my father.” Slate took the rebuke and gestured toward a chair.
“Do you know everyone here?”
“By reputation only…”
Lucus, ever the gentleman, introduced the group and brought everyone back to the topic at hand. “Our search for a Blood Mage in Malethya gained credence yesterday when Slate was attacked in the village of Minot. By visiting my contacts on the Wizard Council, I have concluded that the recently excommunicated wizards in Malethya do not possess the ability or the ambition to be the person we are after. Either the Blood Mage has been in hiding for a long period of time and escaped my search or the Blood Mage hasn’t been excommunicated from the Wizard Council or Ispirtu.”
He looks and looks,
But cannot find,
What is in front,
Or just behind.
Slate ignored Ibson’s babble. “Rainier, do you have any news for the group?”
“I tracked Villifor this morning until he entered the palace to meet King Darik. Sana is inside and may find out more information. Other than that, I think most of the news involving Villifor comes from your adventure yesterday.”
“I suppose I might as well start from the beginning and my failed attempt to break into the Regallo estate. Lattimer had given me information regarding manuscripts in Brannon’s personal library. I wanted to see them for myself, so I broke into the estate, didn’t find the manuscripts and got caught. My actions drew the ire of the Sicarius headmaster, got me expelled from Ispirtu, and nearly killed by an enraged Brannon. I failed on all fronts. Now Lattimer is our only eyes in Ispirtu. Would you be willing to tell us any significant events there before I continue with my Bellator mission?”
Lattimer responded, “Yes, actually, something strange did happen yesterday. Two students from Ispirtu went missing. No one has seen them since yesterday morning. I checked with your friend Tommy at the gate and he looked back at the security orb footage. They were seen arriving at Ispirtu the night before, but they never left. I don’t know any more than that.”
Slate recalled the story of Villifor. The farmer began disappearing in the middle of the night and not remembering what he had done. Then an even more disturbing thought came to him. The Blood Mage in the story had been a wizard very in tune with nature, both causing a blight and fixing it. Lucus was present in Minot when the Furies attacked and his return to Ravinai coincided with the disappearance of wizards in Ispirtu.
“Lucus, I was thinking about Brannon’s scepter. You said it was enchanted like your axe. If Brannon’s scepter is a Regallo heirloom, is your axe also an heirloom?”
Things pass down,
Their meanings lost,
Use them only,
At great cost.
“Yes, it is.” Lucus lifted his axe from his belt and looked at it with the affection of something more than a prized possession. “I wish I knew the history of it, but my family is not storied as are the Regallos.” He nodded in acknowledgment to Lattimer. “The spark—and solitude—runs in my family. My relatives have an affinity for nature that leads to reclusivity and large holes in the family history. An ancient wizard sought me out to hand down this axe to his closest kin with the spark. He claimed to be my uncle, but I had never met him and I never saw him again.”
Lucus looked intently at his wood axe and Slate was sure he didn’t see the look of concern temporarily cross Slate’s face. The Blood Mage in Villifor’s story could have been a relative of Lucus’ and reclusivity provided a convenient excuse for scheming outside the public eye. Despite these concerns, Slate had made the mistake of not trusting Lattimer and he wouldn’t repeat that mistake with Lucus, who had done more than enough to deserve Slate’s trust. He would need the help of his friends to confront the Blood Mage. They needed to fight together like a Bellator squadron and have complete trust in each other. Trying to push doubt from his mind, Slate continued his report.
“I hope I never see a villager from Minot again.” Slate described the trip to Minot and his observation of the Bellator squadrons that searched the village. “Magnus found a piece of fabric with Regallo colors and an upside-down lion embroidered onto it, seemingly implicating Brannon in the Minot attack.”
“That is a small piece of evidence that is hardly irrefutable,” Rainier added in.
“Even so, Darik is a man of action and will likely view a small piece of evidence as damning when he considers his opponent’s ability to hide their identity up until this point. That piece of fabric could be the spark that ignites this conflict. Wars have begun over smaller matters than this,” Lucus spoke ominously.
Tensions build,
Sparks fly,
Soldiers fight,
People die.
“What happened with the villagers of Minot? If the village was empty, why did you say you never want to see them again?” Lattimer asked.
“…because they were turned into Furies by the Blood Mage.” His friends grimaced at Slate’s description of the red-eyed attackers’ savagery. “I reported the attacks to Villifor and I think he believed me, although most of the guardsmen believed I was responsible for the attack in one way or another. I returned to Ravinai and Sana told me the red-eyes were called Furies and were the foot soldiers of Blood Mages. Their minds are wiped out and replaced with a single desire to attack and kill. I can personally attest that nothing short of a lethal blow will stop them.”
“What are their weaknesses? How do we fight them?” Rainier asked.
“These villagers lacked combat training, so we have the advantage in battle unless we are outnumbered. However, if the Blood Mage turns Bellator Guardsmen into Furies, they would be formidable opponents. With skilled Furies attacking, I couldn’t stand against them, even with your help. Magnus could deal lethal blows, but I lack his strength and would need to be much quicker to keep my distance from their relentless pursuit.”
Slate’s admission of fear sobered his companions to their situation. Finally, Lattimer said in frustration. “I wish my experiments were going better. Then maybe you could be both…”
“What do you mean?” Slate asked.
“What experiments?” Rainier asked.
“The Sicarius headmaster visited me and Slate at Ispirtu and suggested I focus my research on ways of increasing someone’s speed and strength. The headmaster must have guessed that we’d be up against Furies. I haven’t succeeded in increasing someone’s strength or speed, but I may be able to maximize the strength and speed that someone already has. I just haven’t gotten the effects to persist.”
Slate thought that if an objection arose it would come from Lucus, but instead it was Rainier. “Magic should never be used to alter the pattern of the body!” It was the most adamant and emotional statement that he had heard Rainier give.
“What do you think wizards do every time we use healing?”
“Healing returns the pattern of the body to its natural state. You’re talking about disrupting the body’s pattern in an unnatural way. It is only one small step below Blood Magic to a tribesman.” Rainier stood and Lattimer rose to meet him. Lucus put a hand on each of their shoulders and quieted the room.
“Rainier, you know I respect the tribe’s beliefs even if the rest of the Malethya doesn’t take the time to understand them. Latti
mer is not beholden to your beliefs and you should give him the benefit of the doubt because he shares our cause. We are facing a terrible enemy, the like of which hasn’t been known for generations. The important thing is that we defeat this enemy, or arguments about our methods will be moot.”
Singular focus on,
Things of import,
Can make priorities,
Get out of sort.
Slate remained seated while the others argued. He had fought the Furies and knew how dangerous it would be to face a trained Fury without some advantage. More importantly, if he had trouble with a foot soldier, he needed a few more tricks for the Blood Mage. It was time to tell Lattimer another secret.
“I know why you haven’t been able to replicate Primean’s experiment or sustain the effects of your own experiments. Have you heard of anyone called a Perceptor?”
“I’ve heard of a lot of false Perceptors. They are a bunch of lying conmen. What does it have to do with Primean’s experiments?”
“I am a Perceptor, although I’m still learning what it means to be one. I can’t cast spells, but I can feel them. Cantor was the last known Perceptor and he credited the abilities with some of his greatest discoveries. I think I know why. When Primean was conducting his experiment on me, I felt his spell slowing the blood flow out of my wounds. As he continued to injure me, I knew that feeling was helping keep me alive, so I…pulled…on it. My last memory before passing out was to cling to that feeling and hold it. I think that is why I’ve been able to retain the blood staunching capability.”
“What do you mean you can feel magic? And if you can feel magic, why don’t you know who cast the spell that caused your stonehand in the tournament?” Lattimer questioned.
