Fallen Magician (The Magician Rebellion) (31 page)

“
If you meant to kill me, then you should have done so,” Byrn told her. Unlike the elf, his words held strong like stone. “The moment you placed your knife to my throat, I erected a series of small, invisible barriers along my body, like a second skin of armor. It will take much more than a dagger to hurt me now.”

A wave of his hand drove the elf to the ground and her knife flew from her hand. Byrn stood motionless as he looked down at the elf quivering before him. He looked into her almond shaped eyes and he knew this was all too much for her. She was a proud warrior in her own right, but for months she had been put to the grinding stone with the conflict with the orcs, the betrayal of her fellow rangers, the loss of Sane, and now Marian’s death.

Byrn helped her to her feet and smiled reassuringly as he handed back her knife. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, “When she is back, then you will see-“

A cold feeling passed through his shoulder causing Byrn to turn abruptly. It was his mother’s spirit. Her face was the ashen grey of the dead and when he looked upon her his heart sank in his chest. Her smile was comforting, but sad at the same time and she shook her head slightly. She did not want this.

Byrn fell to his knees and released the spell. Marian’s spirit began to wisp away in a cloud of smoke before his eyes. Her lips moved silently and though she could not speak Byrn still understood the words.
I love you
. Sari was right. He was tampering in uses of magic that should be left alone. Just because it is within a man’s power to bend the world to his will did not mean that he had the right to do so.

Sari pulled the magician to her and held him to her chest. “That is not life, Byrn. You have to let her go. It is her time to rest.”

The temperature rose ten degrees around them with Byrn’s flash of anger and despair forcing the elf to let him go. Her hand went to her knife again without thinking, but it would prove unnecessary as the heat began to dissipate as quickly as it came.

“
I know,” he choked.

Sari held him tighter in answer.

The magician stared at his mother’s body lying on the floor of the Red Tree Forest as Sari removed the arrow lodged in her throat. She was careful not to do any more damage to the body of her once student and friend though both of them knew it hardly mattered. When they finished Byrn lifted Marian’s body.

“
We need to burn her. If we bury her, then I will always be tempted to bring her back.”

Sari led them through the red trees for hours until they came to a clearing with a large flat stone near the center. For most of that time the human and elf traveled in silence each reflecting on what had happened in their own way. It was not until they reached the stone that Sari spoke.

“
This is a meeting place of the wood elves. Our leaders gather here once a year to discuss news from the various regions and discuss pairings of young.” It was not uncommon for elves to have arranged marriages outside of their own clans considering their limited population and slow reproduction cycle.

Byrn set the body on the stone, “Mother, I hope that you can find peace in death. I hope that I have made you proud as a son and will continue to do so.” He looked to Sari. She was blurred due to the fresh tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what else to say, but it doesn’t feel like enough.”

She placed her hand in his and squeezed. “It is enough. She knows how you felt.” Sari regarded her friend’s body and placed her other hand on Marian’s chest. “Rest, dear friend, your trials are at an end. May you know the peace of eternity and the love of those you left behind.” She nodded to Byrn and he conjured a fire that quickly spread across the body.

Sari sung a song in elvish as Marian’s body was consumed by the flames. Byrn did not know what the words meant, but they were sorrowful and somehow made him feel at peace while he listened intently.

Elves showed up as the fire died down, drawn in by Sari’s song and the signal of rising smoke. They were dark haired with fair complexions like Sari, but their garb was simpler attire than the clothing that Sari usually wore. They were dressed in light leathers that looked to be designed for function, not fashion. Their bows and knives looked sturdy, but lacked any ornate beauty, instead appearing to be for utilitarian purposes as well. They were decidedly different from Sari or the elves that Byrn knew from the fanciful stories he heard as a child. The elves conversed with Sari in their own tongue and it became clear that they knew her.

Sari told Byrn, “We must go with them now. We go to meet the king of the red trees, Shatala. Most humans who enter this forest are killed outright. Those that are not are taken before the king to await his judgment.”

“
Do you know this king? What do you think he will want to do with me?” Byrn asked as they joined the elves.

“
I’m not sure. The last magician that he allowed to leave the forest took the king’s daughter with him. From what the others have told me, he did not take too kindly to that and has been in a foul mood for nearly four decades. However, he might look on you more kindly considering that you brought her back.”

Byrn laughed and more than a few of the elves’ hands went to their weapons at the sudden sound. “You are a princess. Why does that fail to surprise me? Sadly, that is not the most outlandish thing I have heard in the last day.”

The elf shrugged. “No, my father is king, but that only means that he has authority over our clan and represents us in elven matters. To us the term ‘king’ means leader or clan-father rather than ruler. There is also no blood lineage determining who will lead us and no nobility to speak of. One day my father will step down as king when he becomes too old to hunt and a new leader will be determined by consensus.”

“
No offense was intended, my lady,” Byrn apologized.

“
None was taken. I only meant to enlighten you on the woodland elven society. It is far different from the life you knew. The woodland elves live a much simpler life than humans or even our own city brethren, but it is also a much more regimented way of living than you may be used to. The red trees can be a dangerous place and the elves that live here have become severe as a result.”

They walked in the company of the woodland elves for hours more, stopping to rest occasionally. The trees were far bigger than the ones in Aurelia. It was clear why their wood was considered to be such a prize and was used for the construction of Ashura’s temples. Byrn was fumbling with the rune Sari had given him- the one that brought them to the Red Tree Forest. When he wondered, “Where will the next rune take us?”

“
What rune?” she sounded surprised and that worried the magician.

“
The one that will take us back to the kingdom,” Byrn answered, “Sane surely gave you another that would lead back Aurelia.”

“
No, that was all I had. Sane would have his own runes to get back to the kingdom. Don’t you have any runes?” she asked.

“
I gave them to Kellen back in Everec,” he admitted glumly. The realization set in that he would not be back in Aurelia any time soon. For a fleeting moment, he considered traveling to Tempest where it was rumored that not only was magic accepted but also magicians were the ruling class, but he rejected that idea. After everything he had gone through in Aurelia and the good people he had lost or left behind, if he were to just walk away now he would never be able to live with himself.

Snow fell on the abandoned city of Everec as Alia and Tomlin arrived under the cover of darkness. The rumors in Silvering were that a renegade magician had joined forces with the Kenzai. It couldn’t be Byrn, Alia told herself. He would never betray the Collective like that. “He would never betray me,” she whispered to herself.

Tomlin pretended not to notice her mumbling.

It was a long shot that they would find Byrn here, but Alia had to find him and she was running out of places to look. It had been more than two months since he disappeared with Kellen. At first, she feared that he was dead, but after several failed spirit summoning attempts by her father it was clear that Byrn still lived, but if that was true why didn’t he return to her? He couldn’t be in Baj- it was destroyed. They wouldn’t have risked moving him to a domain after the Collective’s victory in Ilipse.

“
This place looks like a ghost town,” noted Tomlin. “No lights. No smoke from fires even though it is winter and we are in the mountains.”

“
We should check the manor at the far end of the city,” Alia said without emotion, “Byrn once said he had his own tower there.”

They trudged through the snow in silence. Alia was painfully aware that she was now grasping at straws, but she was desperate to find her missing love. She conjured a flame at the end of her staff as the torched husks of crumbling buildings sought to block out what little moonlight they had to see by.

The tower was one of the few structures still intact in the city. It stood above Everec looming ominously over the burnt out husks that made up most of the city. Alia was not sure what to expect once they got there. Would Byrn be there? Perhaps, if he was really dead- a sudden chill passed through the enchantress that was not born of the cold.

The door swung open with a screech of disuse as the magicians entered the tower. Like everything else in the city, it was dark and foreboding. Alia led the way with her staff-torch in hand followed closely by Tomlin who held his grimoire tightly. Sometimes Alia had to remind herself that her apprentice was still a boy. He was a fifteen-year-old magician who had little talent for any magic other than enchanting. However, what he lacked in natural talent he made up for in sheer bravery and an uncanny ability to get out of almost any sticky situation. In that way he was her greatest soldier within the Collective and she had come to rely on him, perhaps too much.

The first floor was empty.

The second was too.

The third floor showed signs of fighting. There was an overturned table and dried blood on the floor, but there were no bodies to be found. Tomlin bent down and touched some of the dried blood with his fingertips. “Do you think this was Byrn’s?” he asked.

“
There is nothing more for us to find here,” was Alia’s only response, “Let us search the manor.” She turned and hurried away almost leaving Tomlin in the dark. She fought back the tears that threatened to come and betray the façade of confidence that she tried to convince herself was real. She would not embarrass herself by showing weakness in front of her apprentice.

It was a short walk to the manor, but the wind was picking up making the night air feel even colder. The manor had large double doors that required several strong men to open it, but there was a smaller door within the right one that could be opened by an individual. Alia tested the door and found it opened easily.

“
I take it we are going into the dark, scary castle?” Tomlin asked trying to sound at ease.

“
It looks that way,” Alia agreed as she stepped inside.

A single brazier lit the main hall at one end as the sole source of light. It illuminated a doorway atop a dais. It was a clear enough invitation and the magicians approached with care.

The door creaked slightly at Alia’s push revealing a counsel chamber. A small fire burned in a much too large fireplace. It provided little warmth in the large room, but the man slouching on the throne at the head of the chamber did not seem to mind. His head rested on one hand as he studied the magicians with mild interest.

Then he stood up and descended the steps. His gait was casual, but not so much that his strength was unapparent. He hefted a great sword that had been resting on the end of the long, table and stepped into the light of the fire revealing an orcish face. He kept his hair in a warrior’s knot and wore a short beard that made his protruding lower jaw appear to stick out more than it really did.

“
I am Commander Zakux of the Doombreakers and this is my home now,” the orc told them with the conviction of one who had lost everything that mattered to him and would not lose this one last thing in his possession and the sadness behind his pitch black eyes only served to confirm the suspicion, “Make peace with whatever gods you worship, children, fore you are about to die.” His voice was devoid of emotion that made the words sound like an idol declaration and that was somehow scarier for its lack of bravado. Zakux swung his sword at Tomlin who barely managed to leap backwards and avoid the slash. A reverse swing upward threatened to take off the young enchanter’s head as Zakux closed the distance with him.