Underdog Mage Chronicles

by R. D. Bernstein

  * * *

  The entire palace was on lock down as soon as Lance and Quincy reported Master Belltar’s death to Master Sellius. The king recalled patrols, set up blockades and sent search teams to track down the intruder.

  Lance was assigned five personal guards and surprisingly did little to quell the fear he felt. There was something disturbingly powerful about the man, if it even was a man, who had killed Master Belltar. He had called Master Belltar a human, which implied that the intruder was not. That was a scary notion in it of itself. The five guards following Lance seemed like capable men, but they would be nothing against his enemy.

  “How am I supposed to continue my studies with so many guards following me around?” Lance asked Master Sellius.

  “It’s better than being dead,” Sellius replied. “And you don’t need to concern yourself with studies. I have temporarily suspended all training until this is sorted out. We lost two of our best Masters in just the last few days. Whatever is happening needs to be stopped. You seem to be a target and therefore will be officially under constant supervision and guard until we manage to capture this killer. I thought at first you were being targeted because of the crystal, but now that you are still being sought by powerful enemies, there is more to your story than you have told us. We need to know why they are after you. How did you come about obtaining the crystal?”

  Lance took a deep breath. He had no choice but to tell Master Sellius everything he knew.

  “It all happened about half a year ago,” Lance began. “The only reason I didn’t tell you it was because I was afraid of being turned in. Six months ago, I was growing desperate for food and most of the game was either migrating south or hiding within the protected forest. Out of desperation and frustration, I maneuvered past the patrols and snuck across the border of King’s Forest armed with nothing but a rusty knife and a terrible sense of direction. I didn’t know how I was going to catch anything, and at that point, I didn’t care. I knew that if I was caught hunting in the protected forest that I would be killed or imprisoned for life. Hunger has a nasty way of blurring one’s ability to reason.”

  Master Sellius nodded. Lance couldn’t tell if he was agreeing or simply showing he was listening. He was a hard man to read properly.

  “It soon grew dark and very much apparent that I was lost,” Lance continued. “I was scared and starving. I remember thinking I would eat anything. After what felt like an eternity, I came across a patch of luminescent mushrooms. They were the size of my head and glowed with an unexplainable blue light. I ate three of them, until I felt dizzy. I know it sounds crazy, but my vision turned to swirls of colors and showed me things that I would otherwise not see. There was a portal-like door a few yards from the patch of mushrooms and I stumbled toward it. I know it sounds like a stupid idea, but at the time… well I walked into it. I remember the brief sensation of falling and then I landed hard inside of a cave. Although the cave was pitch black, somehow my vision saw the walls as bright colors and my surroundings almost as clear as day. I travelled along through the cave’s many tunnels until I came to a large area. Embedded in the walls were dozens of the crystals. I worked on prying one out with my knife. It was hard work and by the time I got it out, the knife blade snapped and was useless. But I had one crystal in my hand. At the time, if I had known it would have caused me so much trouble I would have left it. But I thought that it would change my life and make me a rich man. I was dead wrong, well, not about changing my life. After I left the cave, I marked the cave entrance with several sticks driven into the ground so that I could find my way back to retrieve more crystals when I had a better tool. I tore off pieces of my cloak as I walked out of the forest and left a trail to follow. Then the Dark Ones founds me… the rest is a series of painful torture and panicked running, the details of which I would rather not revisit.”

  “Quite a story,” Master Sellius said. “But it doesn’t tell us who is now after you. Whoever it is must be a powerful mage to defeat Master Belltar in fair combat.”

  “I’m sorry it was no help,” Lance said.

  “I didn’t say that. I said it doesn’t tell us who, but it does tell us why. Whoever is after you knows you know the location of more of the crystals. They want what you know. With so many guards, they will never be able to get in and thus we will never be able to capture or kill them.”

  “So, what do we do?” Lance asked. “We can’t just wait around forever for them to slip up.”

  “No,” Master Sellius replied. “We cannot. Short of using you as bait to trick them into coming out, I don’t know what else to do. Let me speak with the king. I will not mention your little foray into the forest. The king and his advisors might have a solution to our problem.”

  * * *

  General Crowl stepped into the clearing, punching a hole in the bark of a thick oak tree. The obsidian armor and the tremendous force behind the blow shattered a section of the trunk and wood chunks flew into the air.

  “You are angry,” Mallagan mused, stepping gingerly over a fallen log and joining her brethren in the clearing.

  “Is it that obvious?” Crowl growled. “I was foolish in my tactics and now the palace is swarming with guards. There are too many mages, and although weak by themselves, an army of them could be dangerous. They are like ants to me and yet they are preventing me from finding the crippled.”

  “Perhaps you don’t need to find him,” Mallagan said. She sat down on the log, her bones creaking in protest.

  “I thought you said to find him and ask him the crystals’ whereabouts?”

  Mallagan smiled as if she knew something he did not, an annoying trait Crowl found. “I did say that, and would be true if you weren’t too overconfident and sloppy. But instead of going inside to get him, we can lure him outside, straight into our waiting arms.”

  General Crowl shook his head. “They are guarding him. A literal army is patrolling its walls. They won’t let him come out.”

  “All for a crippled,” Mallagan said with a hint of amusement. “Then we have to be very persuasive in convincing the man to sneak out on his own.”

  “And how do you suppose we do that?” Crowl asked. He grew tired of her word games, but her rank was higher than his and as such he would let her say and do what she wanted.

  Mallagan closed her eyes and held her hand to her forehead, focusing in silence. General Crowl knew better than to interrupt her when she went into her trance. He waited impatiently until the old woman’s eyes fluttered open, practically beaming red.

  “There is a girl,” Mallagan said, her eyes looking off into the distance as if seeing things far beyond the horizon. Mallagan’s eyes faded from dark red to light pink and then shifted into other shades as her magic vision showed her things beyond. “I see images of them together. I can sense his feelings and see their words. She is his weakness. We will use her. Money will buy us a simple messenger. Come closer so I do not have to yell. You forget I am as old as the wind. Listen closely to my plan.”

  * * *

  One day later...

  Lance walked the halls of the palace with his five guards right on his heels. They were equally as annoying a presence as comforting. They gave him hardly any personal space, their orders strict and their dedication unwavering. They had no interest in small talk and made it quite clear they were not there to chat. They might be able to slow down his attacker, but if Master Belltar couldn’t do anything, he doubted the five guards could do much.

  It was extremely boring with nothing to do but eat, sleep, and walk. Growing tired of pacing around, Lance made his way back to his room where he planned on resting. He had hung out with Charlotte earlier, but it was hard to have any sort of real conversation with the guards right there and countless others patrolling the halls. She told him she was worried for him and to be careful.

  Lance was breathing heavily by the time he made it up the stairs and down the hallway to his room. He stopped short of his door when he noticed a letter tuck
ed into the crease between the wall and door. He reached out for it, but a gauntleted hand stopped him.

  “Don’t touch it,” the guard who grabbed Lance commanded. The guard then turned to his side. “John, fetch a mage. We need to ensure there is no foul play here.”

  John nodded and marched down the hallway. It wasn’t long before Master Porthos appeared, his cheeks flushed red, his breathing heavy.

  “What is the hurry?” He asked.

  “There is a note on Lance’s door that was not there before,” a guard explained. “Please ensure there are no magical enchantments or traps on it.”

  Master Porthos sighed. “For all the commotion and running, you would have thought the palace was on fire. Let me take a look.” He took a vial of copper out and downed a few flakes. Then he reached out and pointed at the paper, his brow furrowing in concentration.

  After a few seconds, Master Porthos said, “Well, I’ve confirmed it is a piece of parchment. It seems like a good use of my time and skills. Good to see you Lance. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have trial tests to prepare for.”

  Lance reached out for the note as Master Porthos exited in a hurry. This time, the guards let him grab it.

  “If you’re going in your room, one of us comes with you and the others will be stationed outside your door,” a guard said.

  Lance rolled his eyes, but nodded. He opened his door and plopped down on his bed, happy to give his legs a rest. The throbbing pain in his leg that prevented him from ever running was a constant reminder of the danger he was in. The person after him was even stronger than what he had seen of the Dark Ones.

  The door was shut from outside and the guard stationed in his room took a stance along the far wall, staring straight ahead. It was difficult to ignore the stranger standing awkwardly in his room, but Lance was curious about the letter.

  He unrolled the parchment and began to read silently.

  Lance,

  I am sorry things got so out of control for you lately. I can’t even speak with you without guards watching us. I need someone to help me in town and you are the only one I trust. There is something going on that I really need your help with. Please do what you can to come alone. I promise it won’t take more than a few hours. I know that might put you in some trouble, but it’s important to me. If you care about me, you’ll come. Lance, even though I’ve been fighting it, my feelings for you are growing stronger each day. I think that I am falling for you, and I need you now more than ever. Please meet me at Saybrook Inn as soon as you can. I’ll be waiting there.

  Charlotte

  Lance reread the letter three times. His heart fluttered. She was falling for him despite him being a crippled and terrible at understanding her! Now he had to think of a way to ditch these guards. Excitement and happiness overshadowed any fear or worry he had been moping around these palace halls with.

  Chapter 12

  It proved rather difficult to keep his face calm after reading the letter. Lance lay back in his bed and nonchalantly stuffed the letter inside of his pillow. Instead of rushing his plan, Lance purposely acted as though he were simply resting. If he suddenly got up after reading the letter, it would draw suspicion.

  After a few minutes of agonizing waiting, knowing Charlotte was waiting for him in town, Lance sat up. He tried to stretch his arms out to the side and look natural, but he felt like he looked silly and so he dropped his arms back to his sides.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” Lance stated, standing up and walking toward the door.

  The guard nodded and tapped on the door. The others outside unlocked it.

  “He needs the bathroom,” the guard explained when the others opened it.

  Lance thought it was silly that five guards had to escort him to the bathroom, but it was what it was. Master Sellius must have given them strict orders and they did not want to disappoint him.

  They followed him down the hall and in front of the door leading to small room with several buckets. There was a small window to air it out. Unfortunately they only collected the buckets once a day.

  “Can I at least have privacy for the bathroom? I doubt someone is hiding in the bucket waiting to stab me,” Lance asked.

  The guards looked at each other and then John said, “Okay, I suppose that’s okay. We’ll be right out here.”

  “Thanks. My stomach’s really bothering me, so give me a bit,” Lance said and entered, shutting the door. He tapped on the bucket a few times in case they were listening, then he peeked out the window, lifted himself onto the edge, and scampered onto a section of the roofing. He hobbled along it until he got to the edge and began a climb downward. His arms and legs felt sore and insufficient for the task at hand.

  Lance knew he had to be careful, especially with his busted leg, but he also knew it wouldn’t be long before they grew suspicious. Each time he put pressure on his injured leg, he stifled a scream of pain. For a crippled, he sure forced himself into far more precarious and strenuous activities than was reasonable.

  He hopped down to a balcony and landed hard, screaming loudly as he rolled over the edge and began to plummet downward. Lance instinctively reached into his iron reserves and slowed his descent. Despite his best efforts he still hit the ground hard, landing on his side. The air was instantly knocked out of him and his vision swam with blurry dots. He staggered to his feet and lifted his shirt, a large bruise already spreading down his side. He took in a gulp of air as he hobbled forward toward town.

  Lance was in a tremendous amount of pain, but he was still alive and Charlotte was waiting for him.

  Thankfully the Saybrook Inn wasn’t too far a walk because Lance’s legs felt like they would give out at any moment. It also meant that the king’s guards would catch up to him soon. The important part was to have enough time to make it to help Charlotte with whatever it was she needed.

  The thought of her having feelings for him helped ease some of the pain and made his steps faster. When younger he had been with a few girls, but ever since his eye and leg were busted up, his confidence was all but gone. The fact that Charlotte looked past all of that made his heart flutter.

  The inn was down a side street with little traffic next to two warehouses used as storage for merchants. Its wooden sign swinging back and forth in the light wind above the entryway had the symbol of a scroll and pen above a fancy writing of its name.

  Just before Lance touched the door, a blow to the side of his head knocked him unconscious.

  * * *

  Lance came to with a pounding headache. He was sitting on a chair in one of the storage warehouses, dozens of bags of grain piled up on his side. His arms were surprisingly left untied, as well as his legs. His blurry vision lifted after a few moments and his heart felt like it leapt out of his chest. Standing before him was a pasty white man with searing red eyes and covered from neck to toe in finely made obsidian armor. The same armor Lance recognized from the stables.

  “You tell me what I want to know and you can live out your miserable life,” General Crowl said. His voice was deep and powerful. The words said in a thick accent Lance could not recognize.

  Lance thought about running for it, but he knew he wouldn’t get far. A crippled wasn’t exactly difficult to catch.

  General Crowl took a step toward him. “The crystals you found. Where are they? Tell me quickly.” His eyes were piercing, his pupils as red as a bright flame. He smelled of blood and death, a palpable magical energy hovering around his body. He held the crystal up and in front of Lance and then placed it on the table next to them.

  Lance did not know how, but every sense in his being screamed to keep the crystal location secret. A sudden realization brought to his mind through some unknown medium urged his silence. It was then that Lance knew that the very fate of the world, or at least mankind hindered on this moment. The voice in his head urging him into silence was that of a man, but completely unrecognizable.

  “I do not know,” Lance lied. He tensed, expecting a simi
lar beating he received several months ago.

  General Crowl was on him like a lightning bolt, grabbing Lance’s wrist and twisting in a painful jerking motion. He fell to his knees and cried out in pain.

  “You think you know pain, but you do not,” General Crowl said. “I assure you that magic can make every nerve in your body scream at once.”

  Lance coughed and struggled against the iron grip on his wrist.

  “Tell me where it is!” General Crowl bellowed. His fist was clenched, the iron spikes jutting out of the knuckles on his obsidian armor moved in front of Lance’s face with his other hand.

  “Never!” Lance found himself yelling in defiance. As soon as he said the word, he doubted he could withstand any significant torture or pain. Pain and torture wasn’t something one could get used to.

  “General!” A woman’s voice called out. “Speak with me a moment.” The tone came as though reprimanding an older sibling from hitting his younger brother, an embarrassing turn of events.

  General Crowl groaned in annoyance and let go of his grip of the crippled. Lance instantly grabbed his wrist and rubbed at the sore red marks along it. The grip had been as strong as any iron chain would have been, a super-human strength behind it.

  Lance caught the sight of an elderly woman behind through a gap of the bags of grain as General Crowl went over to speak with her. Whoever they were, or rather whatever they were, they were confident in their ability to turn their backs on him.

  Although they spoke in harsh whispers, Lance could make it out.

  “You won’t reach him with physical pain,” the woman said. “He has outside help from a powerful mystic. You need to tear his memories out from him with magic.”

  What came next was all a blur. That comment was all Lance needed to stir him into action. Before he could think things through, he grabbed the crystal off of the table and slammed it onto the floor.