The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1 (20 page)

A low hiss behind them caused Durima to jump. She didn't even get a chance to look over her shoulder because a moment later Uron slithered past her, a large, purplish-black snake at least as long as a fully-grown oak. Uron didn't look at either her or Gujak as it went over to the Ghostly God, where it curled up neatly by his side, looking almost like an obedient dog rather than a disgusting reptile.

“He is right here,” said the Ghostly God, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He lifted his hand and patted Uron on the head. “Unlike you two, Uron is always at my side, ready to do what I ask efficiently and without complaint.”

Although Uron did not flinch or pull away when the Ghostly God patted his head, Durima thought that the snake looked a little put off by being touched in that way. It might have just been her imagination, of course, as snakes did not have easy-to-read facial expressions.

“So what are we going to do now, Master?” said Gujak. “If Skimif is going to come and put an end to your plans, does that mean that we are going to give up?”

The Ghostly God's hand froze on Uron's head. “Give up? Of course not. It is a setback, a minor one at that, and nothing more. I still have an important mission for you two to take. A very important mission.”

“We'll complete it to the best of our ability, sir,” said Gujak. “Just tell us what it is and we'll get on it.”

Yet the Ghostly God did not respond to Gujak immediately. He tilted his head to the side, toward Uron, almost as if he was listening to the snake talk. That was ridiculous, obviously, seeing as Uron was not even hissing at the moment.

But in some ways, it was not that strange. Ever since the Ghostly God had taken on Uron as his pet/servant, he had behaved this way every time he sent Durima and Gujak on some mission. At times, the Ghostly God's eyes would glaze over, as if he was not himself. He only ever acted that way whenever Uron was around. When the snake was nowhere to be seen, he usually acted like his normal self.

There's something not right about that snake,
Durima thought, looking at Uron carefully.
But for the life of me, I can't figure out what.

Then the Ghostly God's head snapped up straight. “All right. Your mission is simple. I want you two to go to Bleak Rock, a tiny spit of land hundreds of miles to the east of here, and retrieve an important object hidden there. It is a gauntlet.”

Durima knew what Bleak Rock was. It was an island that was allegedly home to the Mysterious One, the so-called God of Mystery and Magic, who may or may not actually exist. The island was generally avoided by everyone, even by the gods themselves, because of its strange, eerie aura, in which magic generally did not work the way it was supposed to.

Durima herself had never been to Bleak Rock. She was not superstitious, but she was wary of anything she couldn't explain rationally. She had heard plenty of stories about it from other katabans, though, including one story where a katabans explorer had entered it, only to never return.

“Bleak Rock, sir?” said Gujak. “What kind of gauntlet is hidden there?”

“You do not need to know,” said the Ghostly God. “Uron says … I mean, it is important to my plans. It shouldn't be hard to find.”

“Sir,” said Gujak, “while I am in no way, shape, or form afraid of Bleak Rock, rumor says that it's the home of the Mysterious One.”

Durima rolled her eyes. The Mysterious One was a myth and a legend. She thought everyone knew that. She supposed it made sense that Gujak would believe in that story because Gujak was as naïve as a young child.

“And?” said the Ghostly God. “What difference does that make?”

“Well, I was just thinking that the other gods don't like it when the servants of their fellow gods enter their domain without their permission,” said Gujak. “I mean, of course, sir, you are free to do what you like and as your loyal servants we must obey you no matter what, but I was just wondering if you had already spoken with the Mysterious One about it.”

The Ghostly God growled. “The Mysterious One is a myth designed by my siblings to explain something we can't. Bleak Rock is under the domain of no god or goddess. Anyone is free to take the island for their own purposes, if they want it, but the rest of my siblings are too superstitious to claim it. Which will make your mission that much easier, although knowing you two, you will probably find a way to mess it up even then.”

“We will do our best, sir,” said Gujak, saluting the Ghostly God. “We'll go to Bleak Rock, find that gauntlet, and return without delay.”

Perhaps Gujak thought that by saying that he was going to win the Ghostly God's favor. Durima knew better than that. No matter how this next mission worked out, the Ghostly God would still punish them for their failing the last mission. Acting like a sycophant would do nothing except possibly make the Ghostly God like them even less.

The Ghostly God continued to stroke Uron's head. “Then what are you two still doing here? Leave me at once. I don't want either of you here when Skimif shows up to question me.”

Durima turned to leave without saying another word, as she didn't want to aggravate the Ghostly God anymore than they already had.

Then she noticed Gujak was still standing there. He looked like he was about to ask a question. What question that was, Durima didn't know, but she had a feeling it was going to be stupid, so she reached out to grab his arm and drag her along behind him so they could leave for Bleak Rock.

But then Gujak asked, in a hurried voice, “But what about your servant back in North Academy? The one you said was captured by the mages?”

“What about her?” said the Ghostly God. “Do you think I am going to send someone to rescue her? Of course not. If she is weak enough to be captured like that, then I want nothing to do with her anymore. I do not waste time with fools like her.”

“Oh, of course,” said Gujak, rubbing his hands together nervously. “But while I would never, ever think to question your orders, what about the grave of Braim Kotogs? I mean, we failed to reach it. Don't you still want us to get it for you?”

“Don't worry about it,” said the Ghostly God. “One of the rules I live by is that you should never send a katabans to do a job for a god. And clearly, this is a job for a god like myself.”

His voice sounded distorted for just a moment, almost like someone was talking through him, but then his voice returned to normal. Durima concluded that she was probably just hearing things. Not surprising, considering her age.

Then the Ghostly God stood up. At his full height, his head almost scraped against the ceiling, and as he turned around to face them, Durima could not help but gaze upon their Master's face and body, even though she had seen both many times before.

The Ghostly God wore pale white armor, nearly as thick as the trunks of the trees that grew in the jungle outside of the mansion. His face was vaguely humanoid, with two glowing green eyes and a mouth full of crooked teeth, but his skin was so pale that she could almost see the veins under his body. His fingers appeared to be made out of metal, like they had been constructed by a blacksmith. A slim book was grasped between the fingers of his right hand, but Durima did not know what the book's title or author was.

“Now,” said the Ghostly God, looking down on them like they were ants beneath his feet, “do either of you have any other dumb questions to ask or will you finally start to follow my orders wholeheartedly and without question, like good katabans?”

Gujak's jaw trembled as he said, “W-We'll go right away.”

“Then leave,” said the Ghostly God, pointing with one of his massive fingers over their heads and at the door behind them. “Now.”

They didn't even hesitate. Durima and Gujak ran out of the room, but even as they did so, Durima glanced over her shoulder to see the Ghostly God sitting down again, his back to the door and his head bowed like he had returned to reading his book. Uron still sat next to him, and unless Durima's eyes were playing tricks on her, she thought that the snake looked about as annoyed by recent events as its owner.

But Durima turned her head away from the door. Master had given her and Gujak a job and they were going to complete it in as timely a manner as possible.

I must admit, though, that I feel sorry for the mortal mages at that school,
Durima thought as she and Gujak walked down the stairs as fast as they could.
Because Master will not hesitate to snuff out their lives if they get in his way.

Chapter Thirteen

One week later …

T
he night was as dark as the catacombs beneath North Academy, not helped by the odd mist that had settled over the campus grounds, although the light shining from the moon and stars in the sky helped illuminate the area somewhat. At least Darek could see where he was going as he walked down the path that wound around the Arcanium down to the graveyard.

As he walked, he drew his mage's robes more tightly around his body, because a cold wind was blowing in tonight from the northern Walls. Granted, the heatstone that made up the school's buildings radiated enough heat to make the cold tolerable, but ever since nearly freezing his hands off trying to stop that chimera last week, Darek had been even more susceptible to cold than normal. It was getting so bad that he was starting to rethink his decision to become a pagomancer.

It's too late for that, I suppose,
Darek thought as his shoes crunched lightly against the gravel path he walked upon.
I've spent nine years training as a pagomancer. I don't want to spend another ten learning to specialize in some other area of magic.

Darek knew he should have been sleeping right now. It was midnight and everyone else in the school was soundly asleep in their dorms. Besides, he had a pyromancy class early in the morning, right around dawn. Jiku, if he was awake, likely would have told Darek to go back to bed.

But as much as Darek wanted to, he couldn't sleep. It was probably because of that dream he had had a week ago, in which he spoke with that strange voice that had said so many odd things to him. The memories of that dream had faded from his mind since then, but he still recalled the strange, purplish-black wall and what it had said about itself.

Not only that, but Darek was thinking about Aorja as well. Just like he thought, the feelings of betrayal that Jiku had experienced were starting to affect him. Just thinking about Aorja now—without even thinking specifically about how she had betrayed him—was enough to make him want to smash something.

But Aorja was gone now. After the teachers had transported Aorja out of the medical wing, they had taken her to the Superior's study, where the Magical Superior had interrogated her for hours. The Superior had not revealed exactly what he learned from her, but he apparently learned quite a bit, because afterward, Aorja had been sent away.

'Sent away' was probably not the best word for what they did to her. According to Junaz, who had been there when the Magical Superior had made his decision about Aorja, Aorja had been sent to Rock Isle, an island far to the south of the Great Berg. Darek had never visited Rock Isle, but he had heard plenty about it.

It's the most dangerous, worst prison in all of the Northern Isles,
Jiku had told him after they learned about Aorja's fate.
Only the worst criminals are placed there. The Magical Superior must have been very angry with Aorja if he decided to send her there for her crimes.

Jiku had sounded very happy about it. That made sense. Jiku was a follower of Grinf, the God of Justice. No doubt he saw this as perfectly just, although Darek had a hard time feeling happy about this when he thought about how awful Rock Isle was supposed to be. As much as he hated Aorja for what she did, he wasn't sure if she deserved that kind of punishment.

Darek didn't get a chance to say good bye to Aorja, either although looking back, he realized that was probably for the best. He had been so angry with Aorja that he likely would have attacked her if he'd seen her one last time. Part of him regretted that he would likely never see Aorja again, but another part of him thought
Good riddance.

He suspected that Aorja's sentence had probably been influenced by Yorak and the Institute mages. He well remembered how Yorak, upon learning that Aorja had been the cause behind the destruction of the
Soaring Sea
and the Third Dorm, had demanded that Aorja be executed right here in the school in front of everyone. Only the Magical Superior's calm and collected reasoning had prevented that from becoming a reality, although Darek was under the impression that it had just barely worked.

Her sentence to Rock Isle was probably a compromise,
Darek thought.
This way, we get rid of a dangerous traitor and the Institute mages can rest safely knowing that someone who had tried to harm them is no longer a threat to their lives.

Even though Aorja had been captured and sentenced to Rock Isle, the Institute mages had still left the next day when another airship—this one blue in color and possibly an older model than the last one, based on the loudness of its engine—flew in and landed in the sports field in almost the exact same spot where the
Soaring Sea
had landed the previous day. The Institute mages climbed inside without hesitation, left in three minutes, and hadn't been seen or heard from since.

Darek stopped for a moment on the path and looked up at the dark night sky, remembering how the Institute's new airship had looked as it zoomed through the sky over the Walls and out into the Great Berg. He didn't miss the Institute mages very much, mostly because he had barely gotten to know them, except for Auratus and Kuroshio.

And based on the conversations he had had with the other students, none of them missed their aquarian counterparts, either. If anything, the general consensus among the students seemed to be that the fewer aquarians in the school, the better. Apparently, some of the Institute mages had been incredibly rude and bigoted toward the Academy mages, made even worse by Yorak's display of blatant disrespect toward the Magical Superior.

Hence, Darek had not heard any of his fellow students wishing that the aquarians had stayed a little while longer. Nor did he hear any talk of possibly inviting the Institute mages back again some other time, perhaps when things had settled down. Even the teachers did not seem to miss them much and he certainly hadn't heard anything about the Institute mages from the Magical Superior.