The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1 (21 page)

Maybe the Magical Superior's plan to bring the two schools together backfired,
Darek thought, shaking his head as he continued walking down the gravel path.
Guess it doesn't really matter. Doesn't change the fact that I can't sleep.

Granted, Darek could have used hypnomancy to put himself to sleep, but he was never a very good hypnomancer. Once, in a lesson on hypnomancy, he had been given the simple task of casting a basic sleep spell on one of his fellow students. Unfortunately, Darek had somehow messed it up and instead cast an insomnia spell on the student, which prevented the poor guy from sleeping for almost a full week before the teachers found the counter spell.

So Darek had decided that he would go out to the graveyard in the middle of the night and walk around until he got tired. Walking around a graveyard in the middle of the night certainly seemed like a foolish thing, but only if you were superstitious. There was nothing to fear about the school's graveyard. No spirits or ghosts lived there, despite some of the rumors he had heard from the other students.

It's just a normal graveyard,
Darek thought.
Anyone who thinks otherwise clearly hasn't walked in it before.

Another reason Darek decided to go to the graveyard tonight was to see if he could find out why those two katabans intruders from earlier had come here. He had learned that the katabans had been searching for a particular grave, but whose and why, he didn't know.

So he decided that solving a good mystery would be enough to tire him out. He doubted he would find anything, but the thought that he might solve this puzzle that had stumped even the Magical Superior spurred him onwards. He liked having a goal better than aimlessly walking about, anyway.

In another minute, Darek reached the front gate of the graveyard. It looked as normal as it ever did to him, at least from what he could see of it in the darkness, mist, and moonlight. But according to Junaz, a large, strange-looking tree had sprouted in front of it a week ago, which the two katabans had tried to use to enter the graveyard. The tree had since been removed, its wood to be used for magical purposes, but Darek could see the plot of dirt where it had been growing.

Darek opened the gate without hesitation and entered. He was well aware of the various traps set up around the graveyard's perimeter by Junaz, but he did not think he would accidentally set them off. The traps, while mostly non-magical, did have very simple scanning spells cast on them that allowed them to tell the difference between invaders and mages who lived here. That was why Darek felt comfortable entering the graveyard through the gate.

The graveyard was quiet and cold tonight, as it usually was, the only significant difference being the thick mist that covered everything. What made the graveyard so strange in comparison to the rest of the Academy was that the tombstones were not made of heatstone. In fact, the oldest tombstones were made of marble, apparently imported from the south. The old stone path, too, was made of gravel, but why that was, Darek didn't know, as the graveyard was one of the oldest parts of the school and much of its history had been lost due to the lack of good record-keeping in the school's early years.

As Darek walked, looking at the various cracked and faded tombstones, he wished he knew what to look for. The two katabans probably did, but as far as he knew, only the Magical Superior knew what they were looking for, and he, in his usual secretive way, had not told anyone what they had said to him about it. Darek had considered speaking to the Magical Superior himself, but he rejected the idea because, as close as they were, he knew better than to ask the Magical Superior about topics that he refused to speak about. The Magical Superior usually had good reasons for keeping secrets, anyway, so Darek did not see any reason to badger him about it.

Besides, Darek didn't expect to find anything tonight, not really. Solving the mystery of what the katabans had came here for was merely a trick to help cure his temporary insomnia. As long as it did that, he didn't care if he solved a mystery or not.

That was when Darek realized that he wasn't alone. By now he had almost reached the back of the graveyard when he noticed, through a break in the mist, someone standing in front of one of the graves.

Darek stopped and stared at the figure, for a moment uncertain who it was. He thought at first that it might be one of the Diogian students, as they sometimes visited the graveyard at night in order to perform some basic rituals to Diog, the God of the Grave, and make sure that the graves were undisturbed.

But then he noticed the auburn robes and the staff and he realized who it was.

“Magical Superior, sir?” said Darek as he approached the old mage standing before the grave. “What are you doing up so late?”

The Magical Superior turned to face Darek. He looked tired, far more tired than Darek felt. His eyes had bags underneath them and he was leaning on his staff more heavily than usual. It was probably his age showing, although Darek didn't think that being up so late could be good for the Superior's health.

“I was about to ask you the same question, Darek,” said the Magical Superior with a yawn. “Students are supposed to be in bed until morning.”

“I couldn't sleep,” said Darek. He tapped the side of his head. “Bad dreams and all that. Thought taking a walk through the graveyard might help some of that.”

“That's an unusual way to cure insomnia,” said the Magical Superior. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps I should return to my study. I have a full day tomorrow and I need all the rest I can give my old bones.”

Darek nodded, but he was still overcome with curiosity, so he said, “That's probably a good idea, Superior sir, but you didn't answer my question. Why are you out so late?”

For a moment, the Magical Superior looked like he was going to avoid answering the question entirely. That would not have surprised Darek.

So Darek was surprised when the Magical Superior said, “I came to visit the grave of my deceased pupil, Braim Kotogs. You know who that is, of course.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Darek. “He was the guy who brought me and Mom here to the school when I was very young. I wish I could have gotten to know him better before he died, though. I didn't even get a chance to thank him.”

“And I didn't get a chance to say good bye to him, even though I was there at his death,” said the Magical Superior. “Nonetheless, we were able to give him a proper burial, which is ultimately the only thing we can do for those who passed away.”

“Yeah,” said Darek. “But why did you come out to visit Braim's grave? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. It just seems like an odd time to do that.”

The Magical Superior rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say next. “I suppose I can tell you that. I trust you, Darek, so I must ask that you keep what I am about to tell you a secret, at least for now, okay?”

Darek nodded. “Does this have to do with what you learned from the katabans from last week?”

“Yes,” said the Magical Superior. “It does. That is why I want you to promise me to keep this between the two of us for now.”

“All right,” said Darek. “I won't mention a word of this to anyone without your permission, then.”

“Excellent,” said the Magical Superior with a tired smile. He stepped aside, allowing Darek a chance to see Braim's grave. “I will get straight to the point, seeing as I am tired and would like to return to my bed soon: The katabans invaders had been looking for the grave of Braim Kotogs.”

Darek frowned. “Why?”

“I am not sure,” said the Magical Superior. “I have been puzzling over it since last week. Even with Aorja's confession about her allegiance to the Ghostly God, I do not see any reason why they would want to find Braim's old grave.”

Darek scratched his chin. The mist was getting thicker, but he decided not to mention it because he figured it was made by Junaz, who was also the school's katamancy teacher and was in charge of controlling the weather to make sure it didn't become unbearable.

“Did Braim know or worship the Ghostly God?” Darek asked. “Maybe the Ghostly God was trying to find the remains of one of his supporters?”

“No,” said the Magical Superior flatly. “Braim did not worship any of the southern gods. He didn't even know about their existence until Skimif revealed them to everyone else. That's what puzzles me. What connection exists between the Ghostly God and Braim?”

Darek shrugged. “I wish I could help, but sadly, I'm in the same position as you.”

“Maybe it's not worth worrying about,” said the Magical Superior, looking at Braim's grave again. “There has been no activity from the Ghostly God or his servants since last week. Skimif told me that he was going to speak with the Ghostly God about his involvement in the matter, but I have not even heard from Skimif since then.”

“Maybe the Ghostly God has given up whatever he was trying to do?” Darek suggested. “Skimif probably told him off, maybe punished him for causing so much trouble. I bet that was enough to make the Ghostly God give up.”

A deep, bellowing laugh echoed from the mist just then, causing Darek to jump and the Magical Superior to look around in alarm, holding his staff more tightly as he did so.

“Foolish, naïve mortal,” said a voice from within the mist. “You clearly do not know or understand us southern gods if you think a slap on the wrist from an upstart godling is enough to make us give up.”

“The Ghostly God,” said the Magical Superior, although there was no way he could have known that for sure. “Where are you? Show yourself.”

“Amazing,” said the Ghostly God. “You not only are willing to stand in the way of the plans of a god, but presumptuous enough to demand that I show myself to you? And here my northern siblings are always telling me that you mortals treat us gods with respect and reverence.”

The Ghostly God's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. The mist was too thick for Darek to see through, so for all he knew, the Ghostly God could be right next to him and he didn't know it.

“My loyalties lie first and foremost with my students,” said the Magical Superior, his voice firm and clear. “And it was your servants who put the lives of two of my students in danger. If you think I will just ignore that, then you clearly do not know me.”

“I do not care what you mortals think about me, anyway,” said the Ghostly God. “You mortals never respected us southern gods, which is fine because we never wanted you to. I will admit, however, that I am surprised that you want me to show myself when I've been hiding in plain sight.”

“What do you mean?” said Darek. “All I see is thick mist everywhere I look.”

The Ghostly God's chuckle was right in Darek's ear. “I see you must not know what other domain I rule. I am not only the God of Ghosts, but the God of Mist as well, and right now, that means I
am
the mist.”

Metal fingers—as cold as the mist—wrapped around Darek's neck just then. Darek choked and his hands flew to the fingers to pry them off, but the grip around his neck was as firm as a mountain.

“But I suppose it makes sense that you would show such startling ignorance,” said the Ghostly God. “You mortals only barely understand us southern gods. It's not like I have a temple and religion that you could go to and find out all about me, like my northern siblings do.”

The Magical Superior pointed his staff at the fingers around Darek's neck, but he did not fire anything from its tip.

“Trying to save your student?” said the Ghostly God. “Pathetic old man. You know you can't free him from my grasp without putting his very life at risk. I know how much you value the safety of your students, Magical Superior, so your bluff doesn't scare me in the slightest.”

A brief glimpse into the Magical Superior's eyes was enough to tell Darek that the Ghostly God was correct. Lowering his staff, the Magical Superior said, “What do you have to gain from threatening the life of one of my students, Ghostly God? What did he do to deserve that?”

“I am looking to strike a deal with you, Magical Superior,” said the Ghostly God. “A deal I did not think I would ever need to strike, but considering how my plans to open Braim's grave coincided with your need to find out what my idiotic servants were up to, I consider it a necessary deal.”

“What kind of deal?” said the Magical Superior.

“A simple one,” said the Ghostly God. “In exchange for letting your student here free, you will dig up Braim Kotogs' grave for me. That is all I ask of you.”

“Why do you want me to dig up the grave of my deceased pupil?” the Magical Superior asked.

“That is none of your business,” said the Ghostly God. “What matters is whether you accept the deal or not. Don't forget that I am more than willing to harm your student if you choose to reject the deal.”

The Magical Superior looked from Darek and the grave and back again before saying, “Where is Skimif? He told me he was going to deal with you.”

“Skimif doesn't even know I'm here,” said the Ghostly God with a snort. “When he came to Zamis, my island, last week, I told him that I was sorry for causing so much trouble. The naïve idiot seemed to believe me because he left me alone after that and I haven't heard a word from him since.”

“So you are a liar and a deceiver,” said the Magical Superior. “Of course you are. I've heard all about the southern gods and their lack of decent morals. It is disgusting.”

“I am beginning to rethink that all of the rumors I heard about your devotion to the gods were severely distorted,” said the Ghostly God. “Disgusting … you make us southern gods sound like rock slugs. But it doesn't matter. The point is, Skimif doesn't even realize I'm here. So I am waiting for you to agree to my deal.”

“When did I say I would ever agree to that awful deal you offered me?” said the Magical Superior.

The Ghostly God's grip tightened around Darek's neck; not enough to cut off his air supply completely, but enough to make Darek gasp in pain. Darek reached for the deity's fingers again, but he was so weak now that he couldn't do more than pat the Ghostly God's fingers futilely before letting his arms fall to his sides.