Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion) (26 page)

“
To
my knowledge that is not possible,” said Sari, “most visual enchantments are
limited in scope like changing hair or eye color. The magician must maintain
complete control of the illusion and altering one's features enough to look
like someone else known to the target is particularly difficult. The enchanter
has to know every line and detail of the face he... or she wishes to take well
enough to completely fool their mark.”

“
So
the enchanter could alter his clothing to appear as someone in a trusted role
like a guard, but could not be someone she was familiar with,” Marian
concluded.

“
Yes,
just so,” agreed the wood-born elf, “and it seems like we have a few leads to
follow up on. I will contact Sane and see if he can lend his expertise if this
is indeed a magician, and you should find this Gilkame and see if he remembers
seeing any guards or other people of authority near his booth just before the
fire started.”

Marian
nodded. She had no desire to see the sorcerer. Her rational mind knew Sane to
be a good and honest man or else he never would have won Sari’s loyalty, but
there was the other side of the sorcerer that was the man who tried to hunt her
son down like a dog. The apprentice ranger understood that the master magician
was only following orders, but she could not accept such an easy explanation
where Byrn was involved. Whatever the case she could not stomach being around
him and of late whenever the sorcerer and elf had a cause to meet Marian
Lightfoot would find something less grating to occupy her time... like watching
the grass grow.

***

The
smell of burnt flesh and hair hung heavy in the small room at the back of the
storage house. Mantellus had found it difficult to sneak away from his duties
as a priest prior to Sunshillah, but now that the preparations were complete
and the festival was underway he found he had plenty of time to visit with the
warlord's daughter. It had only been a day since the torment began, but already
her body was covered in severe burns going from her chest to her arms, legs, and
feet. Her yellow dress that had been so lovely was little more than tattered
rags with blackened marks from burning along the edges in straps of clothing
that left only some small material covering her seared skin.

The
Lady Tian Nightwind's breathing was especially labored as if her lungs were on
fire. Mantellus thought for a second... had he set her lungs on fire? No, he
did not, but what a wonderful idea. To get to the lungs he would have to go
through the mouth and down the throat...

“
Please,”
Tian squeaked hoarsely and mumbled something incoherently intruding on the mad
man's thoughts.

Mantellus
drew in uncomfortably close so that his ear was next to her mouth. “Say again?
You really should not mumble. It is low-born and beneath your station.”

“
Please,”
Lady Tian repeated, “Kill me.”

Mantellus
laughed at the absurdity of the idea. “Kill you? What fun is there in that?! If
I kill you then our time together would be at an end and I am not ready for
that.” Lifting his staff so that it pointed at Tian he said, “Let me show you
something the good priests taught me,” and with an incantation he learned for
concentration and a wave of his staff, Mantellus began to cast a spell. He
stood motionless with his eyes shut for almost a full minute except for the
slight wave of his staff from left to right and back again as he repeated the
words over and over again until there was no meaning left in them. Suddenly his
eyes popped open and a gust of white energy flew from the torturer to his
victim.

Tian's
body heaved against her restraints as the magic entered and filled her, but she
felt no pain. Instead she felt a soothing to her body's aches. The cuts,
bruises, and scars from Mantellus’ deadly game healed before her eyes and she
felt a mixture of relief and exhaustion as every muscle in her body suddenly
relaxed.

Her
captor stumbled and only prevented a complete collapse by using his staff as an
impromptu brace. Now he was the one breathing heavily and he looked as if he
might feint, but his mad smile returned as he regarded the fully restored Tian
and with a huff of breath he told her, “Most priests are not willing to do more
than minor healing and regeneration. In order to restore life it requires a
great deal of energy and could result in the caster's demise, but great feats
are possible if you have the will for it. I wonder how far I can push it. How
close can one get to the brink of death and still be pulled back? That is what
we are going to discover together.”

Mantellus
Firekin fell back into his chair exhausted, but never lost his wicked grin.
“Our fun is only just beginning.”

Rain
pelted the garden
of
reflection, but Byrn scarcely noticed. His attention was completely focused on
the gray and black figure that stood under the great oak. Six months had passed
since he first attempted the necromancy spell that summoned the shadowy figure.
He thought of all the things he would say and what he would ask, but when the
moment came he could only mutter, “Father,” under his breath.

The
spirit of Tannys Lightfoot stepped forward. “Greetings, master magician,” the
ghostly spirit said mildly teasing his son now a strong twenty one year old man
dressed in black leathers and a dark red cloak tied at the waist, “How long has
it been?”

Byrn's
heart fell in his stomach. It was suddenly very difficult to form words, but
eventually he managed, “Four years.”

“
That
long?” the spirit sounded mildly surprised, “In the underworld time seems to
pass differently. To me it feels like only a few days have gone by since I last
saw you standing before the goddesses.”

“
It
has been hard since you... died,” Byrn told his father as he choked back tears.
The young man clenched his fists tightly.

Tannys
put his hand on his son's shoulder to comfort him and the magician was a little
surprised that his father was corporeal. “I know. I have watched you as you
escaped Baj and Ilipse and found your way here,” the spirit spread his arms as
if to encompass all of the rain soaked grounds, “and watched as you mastered
your craft.” Byrn was about to object, but Tannys silenced his protest and
continued, “I am very proud of you.”

At
that Byrn could not stop himself and he fell into his father's arms dimly
wondering if the wetness on his face was from rain or tears and years of worry
and anger fell away. The spirit was cold to the touch, but still comforting as
the spirit hugged him tightly.

After
a few moments Tannys released his son and held him at arm's length trying to
get a better look at him. “Remember, when you were thirteen and just learning
to ride a horse? We had that old temperamental nag, Ruth, and no matter how
hard you tried you could not get her to listen. Then after one particularly
frustrating day for the both of you, she bucked you. I ran to see if you were
alright, fearing that the fall may have broken your back.”

Not
looking at his father Byrn said, “I remember. My wrist was broken and I had a
sprained ankle, but with the healers' help I could ride again a week later.”

“
And
you did,” finished Tannys. “You told me that nothing was going to stop you and
got back on that horse. Day after day you worked on that nag until she
eventually decided that her life would be easier if she gave up and listened to
you.

“
That
is how I thought of you then and still think of you now. No matter what obstacles
you face you never give up. It is your strength of will that has carried you
through to this day and it is that same strength that will carry you forward
tomorrow and every day after that.”

Byrn
regained his composure, but could not look his father in the eye right away,
embarrassed by his display. Deciding instead to change the subject he asked,
“How can you watch me from the underworld if time moves differently?”

“
The
underworld is not as the name implies,” the spirit told him as he considered
the best way to explain it. “In fact it is a wholly different level of
existence. It is apart from this world, but still connected and as we are
connected through the bond of family I can watch you... and your mother. Most
times I only see flashes of your lives unless I really stop to watch closely.
Then I become still and it is as if I can see you and nothing else in the world
exists.”

“
You
have seen mother? How is she?” Byrn asked eagerly. He often wondered if his
mother was safe and happy. Sane told him that she became a ranger back when he
was still in Baj, but Byrn could not imagine her as a woman of the wilderness.
Then again four years ago he could not imagine himself as anything other than a
simple courier.

“
She
is doing well,” Tannys assured him, “Your mother... well you would have to see
it to believe it, but she has come into her own so much so that I wonder if I
did not hold her back when I still lived.” Tannys was about to add something
when he paused and after a moment said, “That is strange. I can not feel the
rain anymore.” His body began to fade and small tendrils of what appeared to be
smoke wafted off of him at the shoulders and arms.

“
The
spell anchoring you here is fading,” Byrn told Tannys somberly, “It is a great
challenge to summon a specific spirit and pull it from the underworld. It
requires a great deal of focus and an invocation of Kassani. Only if she
acquiesces can the summoning occur.”

“
Say
no more,” said the spirit with a wave of his smoky hand, “Go get some rest and
know that I am watching over you.” The spirit of Tannys Lightfoot faded back
into the underworld leaving his son standing alone under the great oak tree.

As
he stood there Byrn felt a sudden keen understanding that he was completely
alone in the clearing. He sat under the oak tree in the wet dirt. The earth was
soaked enough to be moist to the touch, but not quite to the point of turning
into mud. For a long time he sat there listening to the rain spattering against
the leaves and the ground thinking about what he had just done and what it
meant to him as a magician.

In
three years under the tutelage of Avelice Necros, Byrn transformed from a boy
who was scared and alone into a powerful magician that was quickly growing into
the role of a sorcerer, a magician who is the master of at least two of the
four disciplines. Summoning spirits was a fairly simple spell to cast depending
on what was being summoned. A ghostly warrior of Vailon or a sprite could be
accomplished with little effort, but the act of calling forth an unbound spirit
as Byrn had done required a great deal of skill and knowledge in the arts of
necromancy. The summoning of his father even for a short time showed that Byrn
was an adept necromancer. His skill progressed as far as it could with his
avoidance of the darker side of death magic for fear of taking a life.

Sometimes
he wondered if his trial before the goddesses of life and death that left him
unable to kill had ever really happened. Occasionally he wondered if the whole
thing could have been a fevered dream following the calamity in Colum or a side
effect of the healing process he had undergone while asleep, but now he knew
for sure. Tannys had said as much himself.

In
his natural discipline, elementalism, he was unmatched among his peers. Fire
was his natural element and he had learned how to project wind and lightning to
some extent, but he quickly discovered that none of the others including
Avelice had much experience with the elemental forces so he tried to teach
himself, and some of the younger students, building upon the lessons of Sane,
Fredrik, and Mantellus with some success, believing he was at least the equal
of his former cellmates.

At
the far side of the clearing the door to the cabin opened and the black robed
figure of Avelice Necros emerged. Some of the older students had gone to the
festival in the city and she had instructed the rest of the students to stay
inside before Byrn began casting the summon, both to give him some quiet
privacy from the youngsters and to protect them in case a demon was
accidentally released.

The
salt and pepper necromancer sat next to her student. “How did it go?” she
asked.

Byrn
shook his head unsure what to say, then he simply stated, “It was over too
quickly.”

“
It
usually is the first time,” Avelice conceded, “but you can work on that. It
will get easier in time and you do get a little stronger with each passing day.
I am a little saddened to say that you have learned all I can teach you without
touching on death magic. Unfortunately you cannot be considered a master
necromancer without that knowledge, but just the speed of your progression
speaks wonders for your natural ability.

“
I
think it is time for us to start a new school... and I would like you to be the
head master.”

Avelice’s
magic school had grown considerably since Byrn joined them. The trio of Byrn,
Turshyn, and Mellani had rescued several young magicians on the run from Kenzai
hunters now housing ten of them in total. Avelice brought up the subject of
starting a new school before. She feared it was too dangerous to house so many
magicians in one place. There were rumors already of a magician living in the
forest and the elder students would often have to cast illusions in other areas
of the forest to spread false rumors and keep any Kenzai hunters from stumbling
upon the school.