The Gift of Magic (The Shadowmage Saga)

by Paul Sobol

  “No,” replied Athenais, who took out a small crystal from inside his coat, “where he went there really isn’t much to see.”

  “Is that from the Travelling Sceptre?”

  “Yes. Without the master control crystal the portal wouldn’t connect to where he wanted, so in effect he just stepped into nothingness.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “I don’t think so, at least not yet, or maybe ever. He is stuck between worlds, in a sort of limbo. There is no space, time, or matter.”

  “How did you know it was the necromancer?” asked Silver.

  “I had a feeling something wasn’t quite right, not until we returned.”

  “What gave him away? His masking spell was perfect.”

  “First, having no knowledge of the inner Keep he couldn’t teleport us back without the help of someone who actually knows the place. Second, he asked a pageboy to show us to the council room while he followed the soldier to where the machine was stored. And lastly, I believe Silver may have noticed it too, the main artefact is covered in dust and cobwebs, whereas the ringed machine is completely clean. Both should have been dirty, unless the second machine was taken from the necromancer’s tower.”

  “Those are hardly compelling arguments for him being the necromancer. It could have been mere coincidence.” Archer said.

  “True,” Athenais mused as he replaced the crystal inside the ringed device, “but at my age I have come to distrust coincidences.”

  “There is one thing though,” said Silver, “did the necromancer really give us a vial of the Water of Life?”

  “There is only one way to find out. It’s possible he relinquished the real Water to get what he wanted without the hassle of a prolonged battle. He desperately needed this artefact for the portal machine to work.”

  “Well he got what he deserved. I’m sorry about Arthos, he was a good man and cared a lot for these people. What are we going to do with them?”

  “I’m not sure, but we need to return to Avalon, we may not have much time left.”

  A mixture of herbs and spices slowly burned beside the low cot. The still form lying there was deathly pale, and across his chest the black tendrils of infection spread out like a demented spiders’ web.

  One of the sisters caring for Alex placed a wet cloth on his forehead. He had been running a high fever for the past day and if the Oracle was correct he would not live to see the night.

  Wiping the sweat from his torso with a clean towel she lightly traced the mysterious sigils that had appeared. The first symbols had been noticed yesterday, and as time slowly trickled by more appeared. That they were magical was not in doubt, but whom or what was placing them was of some concern especially because no one had entered the room other than the Oracle in the past four days.

  The Oracle had looked concerned when the symbols were brought to her attention, but she said nothing and returned to her quarters. The sister left to care for him continued her ministrations and wondered if any of it would make a difference. If his companions returned with the Water of Life there was a possibility he could be saved, but the Oracles warning of their failure still haunted her dreams. The young man would become an unspeakable evil and destroy everything. In his last few hours she prayed for a miracle.

  Alex opened his eyes a little. The setting sun could barely be seen above the tree tops of the vibrant green forest surrounding him. He was lying down on the softest grass, the smell of wild flowers nearby made him feel a little light headed, and next to him reclined a woman of exceptional beauty.

  “Archer.”

  “No, Alex. I am Kira.”

  “You’re one of the First,” he said, now opening his eyes and taking her all in.

  “I am.”

  “Have you been watching me all this time?”

  “For a while.”

  “The other, Nya, she was trying to teach me something.”

  “She was helping you find your inner strength. With your true potential unlocked nothing will be able to harm you.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Close. There is a necessary task for her to do, but she wanted you to know she is still with you.”

  “The trees are no longer green, and the sky is getting dark. Am I dying?”

  Kira looked away.

  Sympathy filled her eyes as a single tear traced down her perfect cheek. Absentmindedly she brushed it aside. Moving over a little she placed his head in her lap as though to comfort him. There was not much time left, and even with Nya’s gift it was unclear if it would activate in time.

  Alex smiled up at her, and as she began to hum a wordless tune he truly felt at peace. He no longer saw the dying trees around him or the withering grass at the edge of the clearing; he was content to be with her until the end. The black corruption continued spreading throughout his body, but thankfully he felt no pain.

  Darkness shrouded Alex’s vision, and overcome with a feeling of weightlessness he knew this was the end. Images of his life passed through his mind’s eye and in the space of a heartbeat all he had experienced was relived once again. Fighting a sudden overwhelming sadness he tried not to dwell on the few lingering regrets, but stubborn as he usually was he refused to let go.

  Not just yet.

  Using every shred of willpower, Alex focused on the one thing he felt might stave off death’s hold – the gift bestowed upon him by Nya. Her spell, designed to unlock his inner strength, was the answer. Slowly the complex spell took shape within his mind, but the black tendrils of corruption had found their way even into this most sacred space of his being.

  The glowing white spell faded as darkness finally won.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Waves gently rasped against the sandy beach. In the fading light a bluish glow illuminated the area as a large circular portal appeared and several people strode out from the vortex. Taking in their surroundings, the small group quickly made their way along the beach and onto an outcropping of rock.

  Following the bridge across the choppy water they hurried as fast as possible given the slippery condition of the wet stone. Cold white mist closed around those whose destination was the Isle of Avalon.

  Looking up as the door suddenly opened, Sister Abigail recognised the group of people entered the small chamber. The last dying embers of Hope were instantly renewed within her, knowing her prayers would soon be answered. They have returned to save the young man, and there wasn’t a moment to spare.

  The long haired beauty rushed to the bedside and almost pushed the nun aside in her haste to administer the antidote. In her hand she held a small glass vial containing a clear liquid which she poured into the man’s mouth. If it was the Water of Life he was saved.

  For tense moments they all waited around the cot, looking for any sign the cure was taking effect. In the oppressive silence, as every person held their breath, they heard the door open again as another person entered the room. The Oracle shuffled into the room, taking in those who had come with the promise of aid, but looking towards the unconscious man on the cot she somehow knew it had not been enough.

  Moving slowly to the side of the bed, the wizened old woman placed her hand above the black wound and concentrated. The lines on her face deepened as she scowled, and looked at the five magicians before her shook her head slightly. “He is dying.”

  They had failed him, and soon the darkness would take hold of his soul and twist him into a terrifying monster of pure malevolence. They had hoped the necromancer had given them the Water of Life, but with the Oracle’s pronouncement all remaining hope had been dashed.

  Angered at the injustice, having travelled so far and all for nothing, Athenais felt the necromancer had gotten off lightly with his punishment. But now was not the time for recrimination, what was done was done. They still had one more problem to worry about and time was running out. What to do with Alex?

  Looking at the Oracle, the old mage wondered why she had sent them on the useless journey if she knew
they wouldn’t succeed. Maybe she didn’t know, but that just made her a poor oracle.

  Thinking back on their time in the Temple of Air, Athenais quickly reviewed what had happened. They climbed the treacherous mountain, entered the Temple, spoke with the old monk who told them: “What you seek you shall gain, for you have come not for yourselves but for another, so has spoken the winds. You shall find the Water of Life in the Garden, but beware, stray not from the path into darkness, for you may lose your way.”

  As though struck by lightning, Athenais came to a sudden realisation: they had the Water of Life all along. Reaching for his canteen he hoped once again they still had enough time. The water in the lake was fed from above a drop at a time, and the source of that water was the pool located at the labyrinth’s entrance within the small garden! Having filled his canteen from that spring he fervently prayed there was still enough left.

  As the water trickled into Alex’s mouth his eyes opened, and expectant jubilation turned to horror as those around the cot realised he was no longer one of the living. His normal blue eyes were now black as pitch, and his pallor had changed from deathly white to the grey hue of the recently deceased.

  Recoiling from his ghastly visage the gathered magicians and nuns stepped back as Alex rose from his cot. With unnatural speed and strength he attacked the nearest person. Archer flew across the room as she was struck, and all heard the sickly thud as she hit hard stone. The remaining magicians quickly tried casting defensive spells to buy time, but before anyone could summon enough power Alex was already amongst them wreaking havoc.

  With a single blow Winter’s head was caved in. Pink and grey brain matter splattered the abomination as he searched the room for another victim. Pure white energy struck Alex’s reanimated corpse, tearing through greyed flesh to reveal a layer of blackened muscle beneath. Father Benedict continued incanting as the dark fiend advanced, no longer affected by the holy magic. Fingers split and extended into razor sharp claws, and with a hacking motion Alex slashed the old Healer’s throat into tatters. Blood instantly gushed out, showering the demonic figure in warm crimson, and with a bestial cry revelled in the pure joy of the slaughter.

  From behind the black monster heard someone incanting, and turning to deal with the next threat he was momentarily stopped as a silver sword exploded through his chest. As if the three feet of hardened metal didn’t matter, the beast turned and backhanded Silver with such force his neck was broken instantly.

  Stepping over the bodies of fallen magicians, splattered with blood and gore of those who had once been friends, Alex crossed to where Athenais stood quickly incanting. The old magician was oblivious to the nightmare that approached; his concentration focused entirely on completing this final spell.

  What flesh remained on Alex’s decomposing body sloughed away and the abominations true form was revealed. The demonic figure roared in delight, finally freed from his prison and released into a world fresh with so much potential for death and destruction.

  Advancing on the magician the demon was suddenly confronted by a diminutive woman. The Oracle positioned herself in front of Athenais, buying him precious moments to complete his spell, but she too fell with a swipe of the demons clawed hand.

  Impaled by the demon and held aloft like a trophy, Sister Abigail sacrificed herself to gain the magician precious seconds. As the demon drank her life force she was overcome with serenity, and in her last dying moment she was awed to see a beautiful young woman appear in a halo of light.

  Holy Mother, she thought, welcome me into your arms.

  The demon, moments away from striking down his final obstacle, stopped in mid swing. The new presence in the room was powerful, and turning slowly, the demon faced this recently arrived threat. Resplendent in flowing white robes a young beautiful woman stood in the middle of the room, radiating glorious power, and the soft amber glow that surrounded her sparkled with thousands of tiny points of light mimicking exploding stars.

  As the room filled with the golden light the demon knew he faced an opponent greater than himself. Considering his options there seemed little he could do - escape, which was logical, or kill the magician behind him. The first choice seemed obvious; however, the powerful spell being invoked by the old mage was going to change everything. He was left with only one other option.

  With a surprising burst of speed the demon turned and attacked the greatest threat. The demon’s arm, in mid swing, stopped as if it had struck an impenetrable barrier, and looking down he saw a slender white arm, raised and holding onto his own. The woman in white had instantly interposed herself between the demon and his target. Tightening her grip the demon howled in pain, and despite his attempts of escaping the young woman effortlessly maintained her hold.

  Athenais spoke the last words of his incantation.

  The spell started off as a small sphere of blue light, hovering between his outstretched hands. Like a huge Van de Graaff generator from old science shows random arcs of blue-white energy shot out and crawled around the room. The blue sphere suddenly exploded outward in a blinding flash of light.

  “He is dying,” said the Oracle.

  They couldn’t believe the necromancer had so cruelly tricked them, and with that simple pronouncement all hope seemed lost.

  Athenais suddenly produced his canteen, and before the others could question his actions poured the contents into Alex’s mouth. “What are you…?” Archer began, but a wave of his hand forestalled the question. Curiosity outweighing indignity the half-elf remained silent and wondered if the old magician had finally lost his marbles.

  Seeing no immediate change in Alex’s deathly white pallor, Archer wondered if the old mage had tried anything out of desperation, but slowly the black tendrils of corruption across Alex’s body began to glow. Within moments all trace of the magical disease had faded away.

  Light filled the forest grove. Two figures, one seated and the other lying down, were bathed in a soft nimbus from some unknown source. Looking up, Kira watched a small pinpoint of light drift down like a snowflake to rest on Alex’s forehead. The darkness receded and the young man opened his eyes. The tendrils of corruption that crisscrossed his torso glowed with white light and slowly faded away leaving no trace of the infection.

  Colour slowly returned to Alex’s body, and those gathered around the cot were overjoyed at his recovery with more than one person shedding a few tears.

  “Let us hope the price we paid was worth it,” the Oracle solemnly declared.

  A flash of light caused everyone present to glance warily about the room, unsure as to the cause or what it portended. Only the Oracle seemed unfazed. Slowly she shuffled from the room taking Sister Abigail with her and giving the small group of magicians some privacy.

  After a few moments Silver noticed one person was mysteriously absent, and unsure how he had disappeared stopped the Oracle in the doorway. Turning around she said sadly, “The future is never what we expect, nor can it ever be known, even by one such as I. Your friend sacrificed his life to save another. There is no nobler cause, honour his memory.”

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The seemingly lifeless corpse twitched.

  Zareth had played with the body until it no longer amused him. The soul, so filled with passion and determination had eventually weakened as he tore it apart over and over again. The man had screamed for what seemed an eternity as his mind, body and soul were tortured. Demon’s had a tendency to play with their food for quite some time before either getting bored or accidentally devouring the tasty morsel. Zareth was no exception.

  For millennia the Demon Lord had been banished to this Hell. Along with his brethren they had come to rely on the few unfortunate souls that managed to fall through the cracks of reality and end up on the doorstep to a living nightmare. They were savoured like a rare wine, but unfortunately never lasted long enough.

  It seemed a very long time ago since the Demon Host had last strode across the cosmos, unchallenged and suprem
e in their power. Now they were but a handful, surviving on this fire-blasted rock with no other concern except how to escape.

  Having almost succeeded not long ago, Zareth fondly recalled the two mortals who had accidentally crossed into this realm. Discarded at the foot of his throne lay the first, but the second human had been rescued at the last moment. His attempt at following was met with strong resistance; something powerful had blocked the way, and frustrated he had vented his rage on the remaining human.

  Occasionally he thought about escaping through the hole torn into this realm, but always that presence barred him. However, something was occurring in the mortal world, and the stalwart presence was no longer an obstacle.

  The rift was finally accessible. This was his opportunity to escape. Laughing evilly, Demon Lord Zareth stepped through the glimmering portal and into the cool night air of the mortal realm. This world would soon be his, and nothing could oppose him now.

  End of Tome One

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