Mad Mage

by Salvador Mercer

  “What took you so long?” Salina asked, her patience very thin since making her fateful decision long ago.

  “I thought I was rather quick about it,” Dorsun said, waving them through. The postern door wasn’t used often, and the “rear” side of the castle was still part of a bustling city, so there was still a risk of detection from either guards on top of the crenellated walls above, or from passersby who could alert the authorities of anything suspicious.

  “How long do we have?” Khan asked, business-like as usual in his speech and actions.

  “Five minutes, maybe less,” Dorsun replied. “Do you know the way, Master?”

  Khan nodded. “We’ll wait for you in the first antechamber off the servant’s hall.”

  “That should be a good place if the layout is still the same,” Dorsun said.

  Khan nodded and motioned for his Ulathan companions to follow him across a small walkway that circled the main wall over to a set of buildings that served the complex. Specifically, they were headed to a servant’s area that was set to the rear in the complex. There was a main hall for meetings, eating, or other times when a congregation was necessary, and a large kitchen, sleeping quarters, and administrative rooms for running the ancillary duties of a large military complex.

  The main hallway was empty, as was expected at this time of night. Most of the servants had to rise early, which necessitated them to also retire early in order to secure a good night’s rest. Salina noted the layout and said to Khan, “It seems deserted here.”

  “It will be bustling by the break of dawn tomorrow,” Khan began. “The other side of the courtyard from these buildings house the servants’ sleeping quarters. I would venture to say that there is considerable activity there right now. That is why we are waiting for Dorsun here.”

  Stating the obvious was a fact for those who had dealt with Khan, so the Ulathans ignored his last statement. Salina asked, “How long do we have to wait?”

  “Dorsun will not leave the soldier’s post unattended,” Khan said. “He . . . is not the type of person to dishonor another, especially a soldier. I would say a few minutes at most.”

  True to his estimate, they heard Dorsun coming through the main door after the guard’s return. He walked directly to them, saying, “Done, Master. The dungeon complex is large. Do you know where we will begin searching?”

  Khan nodded, and Targon could hardly contain his excitement. “My understanding from what the druid said, as well as our own facts picked up along the way, is that they are treating Targon’s mother as a sort of pariah, a magic-using witch, if you will. There could only be one area of the prison that they would secure a prisoner who was suspected of illegal magic use.”

  Dorsun snapped his fingers. “The Mage’s Maze.”

  Khan nodded. “Most likely.”

  Targon couldn’t help himself. “What in Agon is this Mage’s Maze place?”

  “It has an interesting moniker, but do not let that fool you,” Khan said. “The place is simply a section of the underground prison attached to this complex. For security reasons, the part closest to the Onyx Tower has a special layout and is imbued with charms and arcane magic to protect the guards from magical attack.”

  “Why would you build a prison for wizards?” Salina asked.

  “It was normal many centuries ago. I suspect not all High-Mage successions were peaceful. Any wizard or mage who was a threat to the High-Mage would have been kept in that part of the prison. They needed a special area to house against our . . . I mean, their kind.”

  Khan’s explanation made perfect sense, especially when one knew of the history and culture of the Kesh magic-users. Targon nodded. “Will it be difficult to get there from here?”

  “Actually, no.” Khan motioned to the doorway. “The place is designed to keep . . . people in, not out. We should be able to navigate our way there within ten or fifteen minutes at the most.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Targon prompted.

  Khan motioned for them to lead but then realized they needed to follow him. Dorsun shrugged at him once they reached the intersection of the hallway with another smaller corridor. The former Kesh chieftain had only been in that building one other time before, over a decade earlier. Khan, however, had spent considerable time in the entire complex as a boy once he was orphaned. It had been a long time since he was in that part of the complex, but less than a year since he was last in Keshtor’s main fortress.

  “This way,” Khan said, turning down the side corridor and using it for only a few dozen steps. He then turned into an alcove and opened a heavy door that led to a stairwell.

  “This is too convenient,” Salina said as they walked single file down the stone spiral staircase, which seemed to go down at least two stories before ending at a landing with another door.

  Khan turned to her. “The prison guards have to eat as well. Where do you think they receive their food from?”

  Salina shrugged as Targon and Dorsun, who had taken the rear, filed into the small room. Targon asked, “Through here?”

  “Yes,” Khan said. “However, allow Dorsun and myself to lead, as we are sure to encounter guards along the way. The entire dungeon is compartmentalized for security reasons, and there will be sentries and barred gates along the way. This may require a delicate touch, if you will.”

  “Shall we use a ruse of prisoners to be taken for processing or questioning?” Dorsun asked Khan.

  “Yes, we will need to find two sets of chains and manacles, and we will feign a prisoner transfer to get to the inner dungeon.” Khan looked at Targon and then added, “You will pass for a barbarian.”

  Salina chuckled at the comment, though Khan was dead serious. The men hadn’t seen her so much as smile, much less laugh, so the change was a welcome one. Targon took note, looking at Salina, and said softly, “What will you pass as?”

  “I am quite serious,” Khan said. “Now, we will open the door quietly and go through single file. I believe there should be a stock room nearby. I will know it when I see it.”

  “That’s comforting,” Targon said.

  Dorsun added to clear any confusion, “The room will be marked with a sign.”

  The Ulathans suppressed their laughter, which seemed most out of place in a Kesh dungeon, and both Khan and Dorsun could only look at each other in confusion. Khan shushed them, saying, “Be ready. We cannot afford to be discovered this early. Whether you realize it or not, there can easily be several hundred troops within a ten-minute run from here, and causing any sort of noise, especially one involving combat, will certainly bring the entire garrison down upon us and end our chances of success.”

  Targon and Salina nodded solemnly, and Targon added, “Understood. We do this real quiet-like, then.”

  “Good,” Khan said, and nodded at Dorsun. “Do not make a sound.”

  Dorsun reached for the door to open it, but the latch threw on its own. Suddenly, it was flung open, and a half-dozen guards all wearing black leather armor and billy clubs tucked into their belts tried to file in, with one saying, “I told yas that the secondary door to da kitchens—”

  The man stopped talking and looked at the four intruders with surprise. The one right behind him said, “These ain’t no kitchen servants.”

  Targon looked at Khan, who managed to say, “Do something.”

  With surprised looks on all their faces, Targon yelled a challenging war cry and barreled into the first three, who had managed to make it into the small stair room. “For Ulatha!”

  “Damn,” Dorsun said, moving quickly behind the huge Ranger and knocking down two other stunned guards as they tried to backpedal and avoid the large barbarian-looking man who had suddenly attacked them.

  “Devai tixa,” Khan said, his staff pulsing with magic as his spell was cast into the dungeon corridor from the stair room. A bright light suddenly illuminated the area better than the dark torches on the wall. The spell had to have something to attach itself to, so Khan directed it at th
e club the first man had pulled in an effort to defend himself from the raging intruder.

  The combat was suddenly silenced as no sound escaped the magical spell from the Kesh wizard. The men, including Targon and Dorsun, landed on the ground with only one guard out of six left standing. They looked at each other and shouted. Their mouths moved, but there was no sound escaping from their throats.

  The sole standing guard tried to run, turning and pumping his arms and legs. Salina jumped through the doorway, followed by Khan, and picking up a club that had fallen from one of the soldier’s belts, she threw it at the running man, hitting him on the back of his head. He fell silently only a half-dozen yards from the battle scene.

  The pause in combat was momentary as Targon leaped and took out his axe, hacking at the men who tried to pull their clubs or put their arms up to block him. Dorsun stood and could only kick one man while the Ranger dispatched the other four. The last man who had been kicked got a whack on his head from Khan, who stepped over one body to do the deed.

  Targon tried to say something, but Khan motioned for him to grab the men in the corridor and pull them into the stairwell room. The Ulathan complied, and Khan motioned for the same with the runner as Dorsun went to retrieve that guard as well.

  Once all six were in the landing room illuminated by two torches and the blue light from the magically charmed club, Khan led the trio down the hall a good distance until they could finally hear their footsteps.

  “What in Agon just happened?” Targon hissed, his voice sounding abnormally loud in the chamber after its magical silence earlier.

  “I cast a spell of silence on the—”

  Targon didn’t let the man finish. “No, I mean, how did those guards find us?”

  “They opened the door.” Khan looked at Targon in confusion.

  “How did they know we were there?” Targon asked.

  Dorsun answered for Khan. “They were on their way to the kitchens. It was an accident, Ulathan. Take no offense.”

  The use of his nationality gave Targon the impression that Dorsun was also agitated. Targon nodded and then said, “Well, that could have been better.”

  “It could have been worse as well,” Salina added, her voice low. “How long till they are discovered?”

  “They appeared to have been recently relieved from duty,” Khan said. “I suspect they were looking for something to eat outside of normal hours.”

  “What kind of dungeon is this?” Salina asked. “Whoever heard of normal hours for dining in a dungeon?”

  “They are the workers, not the prisoners,” Dorsun tried to explain.

  “I think we got that part,” Salina said. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

  “Why not?” Targon asked, his voice pitched a bit higher.

  “We barely entered the prison when we were confronted by six guards who, if Master Khan is correct, were off duty. What’s going to happen when we find the guards on duty?”

  “Point taken.” Khan interrupted Targon from answering, obviously feeling that the question, rhetorical or not, was aimed at him. “Perhaps we move to plan B.”

  “What is plan B, Master?” Dorsun asked, peering intently at Khan.

  “I have a good idea where the special cells are located to house those accused of illegal magic use. We go there and kill anyone in our way.”

  “That is not the counsel I suspect we would receive from Elister,” Salina said.

  “No, that would be most un-druid like,” Khan said, making the word up as he went. “I understand the bloodthirsty part is rather . . . less than honorable, but seeing how Targon’s mother’s life is at risk and the encounter we just had, I do not see another option short of turning back.”

  Targon looked pensive for only a second and then nodded grimly. “I concur.”

  Khan raised his brows again, saying, “Part of Cedric is showing in you, Ranger.”

  “I was looking for the right moment to use the word,” Targon said. “Enough, though; we are wasting time. You lead, we follow. Anything shows up in our way, you blast it with that staff of yours. We’ll pick up anything left over.”

  Dorsun shrugged, looking at Khan. Khan nodded. “Fine. I will blast first, but remember my warning. Once we start, we must finish. Our time will be measured in minutes only, and I do not know what sort of magical defenses I will face in order to free your mother, assuming she is still here.”

  “She’s here,” Targon said. “I feel it.”

  “Let’s go, then,” Salina said.

  The group took off in the same direction, which according to Khan, was headed toward the Onyx Tower. They passed several rooms with barred window holes but as squares cut into the ironclad doors. The entire complex was lit by oily torches that had managed to burn for so long that the ceiling was black with soot. To their surprise, they encountered no one.

  “This is most odd,” Khan noted.

  “Agreed,” Targon said, eyeing the Kesh magic-user to see if he noticed. If Khan did, he said nothing about it.

  “Yeah, where is everyone?” Salina asked. “The place looks deserted. What kind of dungeon do you Kesh run here?”

  Dorsun could only shrug, and Khan stopped at a point where the corridor opened into a major chamber and the hallway branched into two, one exiting to the right, the other to the left, with a door on the opposite wall of the room. “The special cells are right on the other side of that door,” Khan said. “There should be a dozen guards in this room alone.”

  The group looked around and noticed a lot of chairs, tables, lockers, chests, and other administrative items consisting of what would make up a guard’s chamber. Manacles, locks, and even a wooden board with nails sticking out of it that held a dozen keys with marks on them. The torches burned dimly, but there was no sign of any guard.

  “Are you ready, Ranger?” Khan said, using the title that the druid liked to call Targon. The formality was purposeful and brought the message home that the honor of freeing Dareen would fall to her son.

  Targon gripped his axe firmly and nodded. “Cover my back and I’ll deal with anyone who has imprisoned my mother.”

  Salina nodded solemnly, aware that this was a side of the young man that had matured over the summer. She was happy to not be on the receiving end of his resolve, and she pitied the guards who would encounter him momentarily.

  The door was locked, unlike every other one, so Khan cast a magic spell on the latch, opening it as if an invisible hand had pulled the lever back from the inside of the door. With a firm resolve, Targon opened the door and rushed in.

  He encountered an empty hallway yet again, but this time, a light glowed brightly from a room down the hall, spilling through its doorway and into the corridor. It was much brighter than the normal flame-tipped torches ensconced on the walls. The door was open, and they heard voices coming from it, as well as the sound of scrubbing.

  Stealthily, Targon moved down the corridor, coming to the door, and listened. “Be sure ya all ain’t missin’ any spots,” the voice said, obviously a Kesh brigand. “I don’t want any stink left over from that wood-witch.”

  A woman’s voice replied meekly, “Aye, Master Warden.”

  At the mention of wood-witch, Targon moved into action, stepping around the doorframe and entering the room. A heavy-set dirty brigand guard stood with his hands on his hips, overseeing a crew of three women servants on their hands and knees inside an iron-barred cell, scrubbing the floor with strong-bristled brushes. They looked tired and disheveled, especially at such a late hour of the night, and at first, none noticed the Ulathan’s arrival, as they all had their heads down, focusing on the task at hand.

  So silent was Targon’s footing that he managed to tuck his axe back in his belt and take a few steps to the lone Kesh guard, coming to a stop right behind him, before the sound of his companions alerted the guard and servants that they were no longer alone. Grabbing the guard around his mouth with one hand and pulling back on his neck with the other, Targon
immobilized and silenced the man long enough for his companions to enter the room and confront the cleaners.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Dorsun said, moving quickly toward the cell door and brandishing his sword. The servants stopped working and pulled back slightly with eyes wide and mouths agape.

  “I am a bit confused,” Khan noted, looking around the room. “How is it that there is only one guard in the most dangerous part of the prison?”

  “Let’s ask him,” Salina said, looking at Targon for approval.

  Targon’s massive arm was around his throat as he pulled back, almost picking the man up off his feet. The guard’s eyes were wide, bulging with both fear and surprise. He struggled to supply his lungs with sufficient air, as Targon’s hand covered his mouth, and his nostrils flared as they exerted an insubordinate amount of effort to inhale and exhale the suddenly precious oxygen he so desperately wanted.

  When he got sight of Khan, his eyes started to lull back in his head, threatening to pass out. “You may want to let him go,” Khan said to Targon.

  Targon dropped the man, who instantly went to his knees. He inhaled large amounts of air and started to sob uncontrollably. Dorsun took a couple steps from the cell door to stand in front of the man who, noticing the booted feet in front of him, slowly looked up and made eye contact with the former Kesh chieftain. “Control yourself, soldier,” Dorsun commanded, his tone serious and the look on his face stern. “You dishonor your country like this.”

  The man didn’t seem to care. “I ain’t no soldier, begging your pardon, Master,” he groveled, and turned his eyes downward.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Dorsun challenged the man. “You have the uniform on of a prison guard—no, wait, you’re the commander of this facility?” Dorsun had gotten a glimpse of the other man’s clothes, filthy as they were, and this included the coveted silver badge that the man had pinned to his chest, along with a commander’s club that doubled as a leader’s baton.