Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion) (2 page)

And
so the world was finished and the gods rested as they basked in the love and
devotion of those they fashioned in their image and the higher races vowed to
never allow those called magicians to rule over them again.

-An excerpt from The Tale of
Creation as told by Tomlin the Bard.

The
ogre slammed its clenched fists into the front door of the Sleepy Crow causing
the wood to groan and splinter with each successive blow. It was utter panic as
people ran for cover amidst the loud, deep bellow of horns blowing from the
walls deep within the city as they fled the beast. After a few minutes of
withstanding the rampage the inn's door finally gave in to the pounding as it
splintered and then burst littering the doorway with its broken and splintered
remains.

One
crafty barmaid scampered out of a window as the ogre tried to squeeze its way
through the doorway. The ogre spotted her climbing out and before she was all
the way through the monster had abandoned the door and snatched the barmaid off
her feet. Lifting her up the ogre regarded its prize with some interest. Taking
her in two hands, the ogre held her tightly so she could not wriggle free, and
then it drew her in close. Its breath was hot on the woman's face and she could
smell the rot and death coming from its grimaced maw.

She
shook in fear, as the ogre smelled her. “Do not scream, Trisha, do not scream,”
the barmaid whispered to herself over and over fearing what might happen if she
upset the creature.

As
if from nowhere her savior arrived in bright white armor that caught the morning
sun and shone brightly. Brandishing his warhammer he strode toward the ogre
like the great hero everyone knew he was.

“
Face
me, you overgrown gray cow!” Kellen yelled trying to goad the monster into
releasing its breakfast and attacking him instead. The beast squeezed Trisha in
anger and she screamed in agony as her ribs broke and she was tossed aside as
if she was no more than an afterthought. The ogre charged the proud warrior and
it was difficult to guess which of them was more enraged as the conflict began.

Even
in full armor taking the brunt of the ogre's charge hurt the warrior knocking
him off his feet and sending him sliding until he came to an abrupt stop
against the Sleepy Crow's stable behind him. As much as Kellen was hurt the
ogre felt the pain even more acutely. The creature was either too angry or too
dumb to notice that the knight-captain had lifted his warhammer like a
battering ram and braced himself just before the impact essentially using the
ogre's own strength, weight, and speed to bury the hammer deep in its gut.
Brought to its knees the ogre was on all fours gagging and heaving. If it had
not just awoken from hibernation with an empty belly it would have vomited
there in the street.

Kellen
got up and prepared to finish the ogre off with a bludgeon to the head, but he
did not expect the beast to recover so quickly. Using its massive forearm the
ogre blocked the knight's attack, but not without some cost as its arm made an
audible snap and the beast snarled its outrage.

The
ogre hit Kellen in the side with the club it held in its other hand. The
warrior was caught completely off guard and sent flying into the wall of the
nearby stable a second time. Stunned and unable to fight back, Kellen received
blow after blow denting and crushing the once glorious armor as blood dripped
from between the plates in the chest piece.

Kellen
managed to roll free of the ogre's assault if only just barely and delivered a
kick to its broken forearm forcing the giant beast back. Somehow the brave
warrior managed to struggle back to his feet through sheer will alone. His
warhammer was lost to him as the ogre now stood between the man and his weapon.
Kellen knew he had to press what small advantage he had. Any hesitation would
lead to his death at the hands of the mighty monster. He threw his plated fists
into the ogre's belly aggravating its earlier injury with a series of quick,
but powerful jabs, which caused more aggravation to the beast than actual
damage. More out of anger than a sense of self-preservation the ogre grabbed
Kellen by the arms and attempted to pull them free from their sockets. The pain
was excruciating, but Kellen learned long ago how to block out physical pain.
He swung his right leg up catching the ogre in the crotch with his steel plated
boot causing the beast to howl and make a face that would have been almost
comical if the situation was not so dire.

It
dropped its prey giving Kellen the chance he needed. This time it was Kellen
who charged the ogre knocking it on its back and jumping on top of its chest.
Having no weapon readily available Kellen dug his thumbs into the ogre's eyes.
Its scream rattled the knight's eardrums and sent a shiver through his bones,
but he forced himself to push even harder despite his own failing strength. The
beast flailed like a fish trapped on a boat as it tried desperately to shake
the knight loose. Kellen would not be bucked off and the ogre blindly grabbed
at the knight in an attempt to pull him off with no luck.

The
battered knight punched the monster's face over and over again until his arms,
still sore from nearly being ripped clean from his body minutes before, felt
like wet noodles.

No
longer attempting to get up the ogre lied there, resigned to its fate. Its face
was bloody and disfigured, but the beast still breathed. The once shining
knight retrieved his hammer and marveled at how heavy it suddenly felt in his
hands. Barely able to stand he stumbled back to the ogre after retrieving his
weapon. Lifting the warhammer for the last time in his life, Kellen delivered
the killing blow.

Once
Kellen was certain that the ogre would trouble his city no more he gave into
his injuries. His trusted weapon fell useless at his side clattering on the
stoned street. A second later his body collapsed as well. Kellen fell to his
hands and knees before rolling over onto his back. The knight stared up at the
sky realizing that this would be his final fight.

His
vision was clouded with blood and every inch of his body throbbed in agony, but
strangely the world seemed to be at peace. For forty-seven years he served as a
protector to Aurelia and now his time had passed. Perhaps it was time for a new
generation, he mused.

Kellen
smiled as he finally let go answering Kassani's song calling him to the
underworld.

***

Sane
woke with a start. Sweat covered his face and chest. It dripped on the soft
linen sheets in tiny pools. His body shook in a mixture of fear and rage at the
impending tragedy he just dreamt of.

Several
minutes passed before his wits returned enough for him to move. He walked to
the window to feel the cool morning breeze. It was cold against his wet skin
sending a shiver down his spine. The sun was just breaking past dawn and Sane
became keenly aware that he had little time to act before his old friend would
die, but there was more. Something else eluded him. After Kellen died Sane saw
a young man though it appeared to be some time later. He grasped at the image,
but could not bring it fully to the front of his mind. It was a maddening
feeling and Sane was sure this boy was the key, but whether for good or for ill
he could not say.

In
his mind's eye he could see the city of Colum even though he was more than
fifty miles away. The castle of Warlord Gustian Firebrand and the guardsman
watchtower sat to the east atop a hill with the city built around it at its
base. There was a wall erected around the area near the castle and watchtower,
but most of the city sat outside the protection of the walls as the warlord
deemed building a second larger ring an unnecessary expense. To the north was
the market district filled with artisans of all manner of trades and goods. The
majority of living quarters was located at the south side of the city which was
further split into smaller groups by class with the wealthier citizens living
closer to the center and extending outward to the poorest denizens on the outer
edges of the city. The western region of the city was the center of trade with
many inns for the traveling merchants. In the center was located the temple of
Ashura, the goddess of nature and life. Her priests with their healing powers
were the only ones in all of Aurelia that openly had any tie to magic, thought
they called it the goddess’ blessing rather than run the risk of being labeled
as magicians, because they knew nothing of violence and had taken a vow to
never harm another person.

The
sun cast an orange glow on the capital below as Sane stood at his window in
Farreach castle overlooking Mollifas. The city had not yet fully awakened. Some
would no doubt be about their business already. The bakers prepared their
morning bread and the smiths were lighting their forges already. There were
surely some rogues about who were just now getting to bed after a long night of
debauchery. However, for the most part the city seemed quiet. He imagined that
Colum must look much the same, as its citizens were blissfully unaware of the
trouble heading their way.

Sane
stepped away from the window. There was little time to spend lost in thought
and the dream was already fading from his memory. Sane dressed himself in a
finely made hooded green robe with a slightly darker green tree on the back.
Its roots spread across the rest of the fabric in deliberate swirls covering
the rest of the material in a design that was similar to the robes worn by
Ashura's priests as the sorcerer found it much easier to get around undetected
dressed in the garb of a healer. He cinched a bark colored leather belt around
the robe keeping it in place.

He
grabbed a staff that looked to be made of intertwining wooden branches
culminating into two large loops at the top. Normally he preferred another
staff to the right of the one he chose with a steel blade on the bottom, but it
had an enchantment placed on it that would make the staff appear as an intricately
carved spear to any who could not see through the magic. However, the idea of a
priest carrying around a spear tended to cause more questions than a magician
in disguise would like asked and so he chose another staff that was more
fitting.

The
door slammed behind Sane as he hurried down the hallway connecting to the main
castle. A few minutes later the sorcerer was standing outside of King Kale's
lavish bedchamber. He hoped that his lord would be awake already. Kale was
considered to be a tough, but fair ruler. However, having been an adviser to
the king for the better part of three decades Sane knew that waking him in the
early hours of the morning tended to make him a little more tough than fair.

Two
guards were stationed outside the king's bedchamber door. When they saw Sane
approaching they immediately stiffened. “Greetings, Sir Sane,” said one of the
guards.

Sane
thought the guard's name was Dernen, but was not sure. “And to you, guardsman,”
he said avoiding addressing the man by name, “Tell me is his Highness up and
about? I need to speak with him urgently.”

As
if in response the door swung open. A man in his early fifties stood in front
of Sane dressed in a purple silk nightshirt. “Sane, what brings you to my
bedchamber this morning?” asked King Kale. His voice sounded rough as usual,
but not particularly cross and Sane felt a little lucky that the king was
already up for the day.

“
It
is a matter of grave importance. Some information has come into my possession
that we must discuss,” said Sane with an eye to the guards.

“
Of
course. Attend me,” the king said casually as he strode past Sane who could not
help noticing that even dressed in his night clothes the king still moved with
the grace and confidence befitting his stature. To the guards he added, “Keep a
good distance so we can talk openly,” not bothering to look back.

Sane
hurried to catch up to his liege as they put distance between themselves and
the king's personal guard causing his green robe to swoosh back and forth as if
the root design was alive burrowing through the earth.

“
I
take it you had another of your visions,” King Kale said as Sane caught up with
him.

“
Yes,
your highness, although I must admit that my motives are personal in this case.
I had a vision of my old friend Kellen, the knight-captain in Colum. I believe
he will be dead before midday if I do not intervene...” The image of Kellen's
broken body still fresh in his mind drove the seer to silence.

“
I
know Kellen is a very brave warrior, Sane,” the king put his hand on the
sorcerer's shoulder sympathetically; “It is hard to imagine him being defeated.
Is the foe magical in nature?”

“
He
will perish in single combat with an ogre,” answered Sane, “but there is a
chance that magic is involved. Ogres do not usually attack cities without some
sort of provocation. After Kellen has been saved I intend to investigate the
matter further.

“
By
your leave, of course, your majesty.”

“
I
suppose I can deal with the bickering in the high court on my own for one day
without executing the lot of them,” joked the king hoping to lift his trusted
adviser's spirits. Sane flashed a weak smile and King Kale added, “You have my
leave. Go and aid the knight-captain.”