The Arcane War Page 5

  Mages were going to go from dangerous to terrifying over time. Since the enchanted paths warped both time and space there was no telling what era a mage on the path came from. Even gods could only control for one variable at a time in this hellscape.

  Good job, elves. What an accomplishment for the ages.

  Thankfully, whoever had shot at him probably did not know they were dealing with a deity. They just saw an exposed figure up high and fired. Any mage from Agruet's era would stick to the safety of the ground. They weren't seen as a threat if encountered.

  They didn't know, yet.

  Baedrogan appeared at Agruet's side.

  "They'll pass here in just a moment. The girl is furious."

  "As expected," Agruet said.

  Baedrogan opened his mouth, hesitated, and shook his head. "I'd ask what the point is, but you never answer. All secrets, all the time."

  "I have a reputation to live up to, brother. God of secrets, and all."

  "Yet here I am, the god of death, and I'm not out slaying everything in my path."

  It dragged a reluctant chuckle from Agruet. "I just mean to say, she's going to need her anger if she is going to succeed. It will make her stronger for what lies ahead." A non-answer, but it seemed to satisfy Baedrogan at least. "I hate to admit to being wrong, but you were right about the boy. Sparing his life will probably make her fight harder, and smarter. Much as I wanted to spare him from what's to come."

  "I do understand death," Baedrogan said, "and how mortals react to it."

  Agruet opened his mouth to answer, but he caught a good look at the mortals as they approached. The girl and the half-elf. What a volatile pair. "Well, they're not broken by what happened. One never knows, with mortals."

  As they watched, the girl laughed.

  That was certainly unexpected. To be sure, the spells she threw at approaching threats were backed by fury. Agruet could also sense the guilt and despair that tinged her mood, but something her companion said had set those emotions aside long enough for her to laugh.

  "She's got a certain charm," Baedrogan said, analyzing. "It will make it easy for people to rally behind her and take up the cause."

  Agruet nodded, silent. Aral hadn't been his first choice. Perhaps she should have been.

  The halls of University Magica seemed colder now. Lonelier.

  Returning without her brother and her best friend had been a blow to Aral, but what choice did she have?

  If she'd gone with them, she wouldn't have a chance to beg for their lives.

  If they'd returned with her, they'd have been caught and captured.

  She fidgeted with the note in her hands, tried not to crumple or crease it, but it looked a little worn at the edges despite her intentions. Davri had scrawled it hastily, folded it in quarters, and asked her to deliver it as soon as she returned. The return trip had been enough to batter it a bit, sitting in her pack unprotected. Now, well, her nervousness was enough that she was proud the paper was intact.

  The door before her opened, and she hastily bowed her head in respect. "Master Arsat?"

  "Come in, come in, no need to be formal. You're here for an informal purpose, after all."

  "Yes sir," she said. Aral glanced up with the closest thing to a smile she could muster. "Thank you, sir."

  Master Arsat was an elf, but he looked almost the opposite of Krecek. He was tall, with straight black hair and caramel skin. His eyes were golden brown, and ears longer and flatter. He was a southern elf, while Krecek's elfish lineage was clearly northern. It's what made Krecek shorter, his skin and hair paler, his eyes emerald green, and his ears more resembling a leaf.

  Also, if rumors were correct, Master Arsat was much, much older than the priest.

  Aral followed him into his office. "This is for you," she said, thrusting the paper forward before he'd done more than step out of the way. "It's from Davri Beran. He asked me to hand it to you, personally." Her tongue almost tripped over the words in her rush to get them all out at once.

  He gestured to a chair, slipping behind his cluttered desk without a word. He unfolded the paper and read silently. At a few points he glanced up at her, frowning, but his eyes darted back to the paper before she could read his expression.

  "That's quite the tale," he eventually said. "Did you read it?"

  "Of course not!" The lie came out immediately, without thought, and Aral's ears warmed as she said it. Some bits of the note had been of a personal nature. It embarrassed her to be privy to it. Why hadn't Davri sealed it, either with wax or with magic?

  Master Arsat arched an eyebrow and looked at her a moment, skepticism obvious by his expression. Instead of chiding her he turned back to the paper. "I am sorry to hear about your brother. Sometimes...the gods simply ask too much of us."

  Aral nodded, embarrassment erased with a fresh stab of worry.

  "What are you going to do?"

  Such a simple question.

  "I don't know." Aral hated how high pitched and childish her voice sounded. She tried again. "Petition every high priest in the city. Send letters. Beg. Whatever it takes."

  Master Arsat looked at her, his large elfin eyes inscrutable as moments passed. He seemed to come to a decision at last, nodding to himself. "I can send a few letters of introduction, to help you get an audience with some of the more helpful high priests."

  "No," Aral said immediately. "I appreciate the offer. I do. I just can't...Davri's already on the run because of this. Krecek Alavraneth, the priest who helped us, will probably be reprimanded, and might face worse over it. I can't put anyone else under suspicion by association."

  "I understand," he said. "If you need anything, if there's anything I can do to help clear Davri's name and keep your brother alive, please come to me. Don't hesitate. I want to help."

  "Thank you, Master Arsat. I will."

  He smiled, inclining his head toward her. "My name is Byrek. If we're to be conspirators, allow me that level of friendship. At least in private."

  She didn't like the word "conspirator", but she knew she would need friends. She would need people she could rely on. And, well, having someone with some authority would be most helpful.

  "Thank you, Byrek. It's an honor to be your friend."

  The air was thick and the clouds a heavy gray that hid the entire city of Anogrin from the base of the mountain. Once in a while the glow of a fire or some spell of light could be seen through a brief thinning of the clouds, but those were brief, distant. It gave the illusion of safety to Naran and Davri from their vantage. The long road that was carved into the mountain led to nothing.

  "Might as well settle in." Davri pulled out a thin sheet and enchanted it to feel like a feather bed. "We've got nowhere to go, and all year to get there."

  They'd left the road and had settled into a cave that was fairly hidden but comfortable. There was evidence that it had been used before, but not recently.

  Naran just nodded. He picked up a small rock and tossed it out the cave mouth. Picked up another. And another. No point to it. There'd been no sketching. No writing. No wondering. Just one miserable, sullen silence.

  "You okay?"

  "No."

  Two days.

  They'd been doing this for two days and had only made it this far. They hid from priests on the road or tried to find safe paths away from the well-traveled road. Krecek had taken the horses back with him, of course. So, they were on foot, and that didn't lend itself well to getting away quickly.

  Anyone could turn them in. It took just one person to recognize them. Unlikely, of course, but posters and fliers had been posted with their images drawn upon them. Terrible likenesses, but good enough to a sufficiently suspicious, or greedy, passerby.

  There were reasons the road was so well used, of course. It was easy and relatively smooth. It meandered down the mountain with gently sloping curves to make even the heaviest cart easy to navigate.

  Everything else was too inconvenient for the average traveler, and thi
s slowed the two of them a great deal. Steep slopes and other frustrating terrain were the least of things that kept Davri thinking of creative use of spells to aid them here and there. As they moved further from civilization he'd have to use a whole new set of spells to keep them safe from wild animals or fellow outcasts of society. What would brigands do with the two of them if he was caught off guard? There was no telling.

  "Just keep an ear out. Something's bound to hear those rocks you're chucking. It would help if you warn me before whatever it is comes to investigate."

  In response, Naran picked up a bigger rock, glared at Davri, and threw it directly at a bush for maximum noise.

  Davri closed his eyes. "Everything's terrible for both of us, Naran. I'd like to be right there with you, scaring off birds, tossing things around, maybe blowing up trees just for the sheer joy of destroying something. But we're not going to be able to get away with that sort of thing."

  "You don't understand."

  Ah, the cry of children everywhere when they were the ones who didn't understand.

  No. That thought was unkind. Davri shook his head, chiding himself internally. Naran hadn't asked for this. Hadn't been able to decide, one way or another, if he should be out here, running for his life. He was a scared little boy, and Davri needed to act like the adult here. Nineteen didn't feel old enough to Davri to be suddenly responsible for another human's life, but it was better than nine.

  "Okay, tell me what I wouldn't understand." Davri sat, patting a spot on the blanket, inviting Naran to sit down.

  Naran, for his part, looked skeptical, wary. He stood where he was, not approaching, but not throwing any more rocks.

  "I've never seen you angry before." Since the boy had arrived at University Magica, he'd been quiet and reserved. He'd hidden in Aral's shadow, for the most part. Davri was sure anger had been part of his grieving process, but Davri hadn't been around to see it. "I don't blame you for it, but it caught me by surprise. I thought you'd stay afraid a while longer."

  Naran rolled his eyes and sat down. He chose a spot a touch further away from where Davri had indicated.

  "It's all just not fair," Naran said. "I know. You get that. It's not fair to you, either. But my feet are sore. I have blisters. My blisters have blisters. And if we don't move, we die. If we don’t hide, we die. It's all my fault that you're going to miss all your school, and all your friends. I didn't even do anything. You didn't do anything. And... now there won't be a party. Aral was going to give me a present. Everyone was going to be there for my birthday. Aral promised."

  Naran looked like he wanted to go on, but his voice broke on the last word and it stopped him.

  "Birthday?"

  Naran nodded.

  "When?"

  Naran held up three fingers. "Three weeks," he choked out.

  Davri picked up a rock that sat nearby and threw it. He hit the cave wall so hard the rock shattered in two.

  It was only sandstone, but watching it explode against the wall was satisfying.

  None of this was fair, not to either of them.

  Naran was right.

  It was all so stupid and petty. He'd been thinking that, ever since Aral and Krecek had returned with the news that there'd be no reprieve. It wasn't a surprise, not with the visions Davri had had, but the reason behind it all was maddening.

  Instead of looking startled, or scared, Naran just nodded.

  "What if Aral doesn't fix it?" The echo of the rock's destruction had long faded before Naran asked the question. "What if she can't? If the priests just don't care. I don't want to die."

  "Nobody wants you to die," Davri said.

  "The priests do," Naran said. "The gods do."

  "If the gods wanted you dead, you'd be dead," Davri pointed out. "Neither of us are powerful enough to stop that. I think they're just too busy to care who dies, and that's a shame. The world's better with you in it. They just don't know that yet."

  "You're just being nice."

  "No. I like you. Not only because I like your sister, either. You've put up with a lot in the last few months, and you've kept your temper and made things easy for everyone. So far, you've turned terrible things into something good. Every time you draw something, you've turned your pain into something beautiful. It's a rare gift in this world. If you keep doing this, I'll never stop fighting to keep you alive. Even from the grave, if I have to."

  Naran huffed, dodging when Davri reached to ruffle his hair. But the anger had gone out of him, and they both seemed more relaxed for having gotten some of their frustrations out.

  "This is the strangest cave," Naran finally said with a bit of a frown. "It's very…square."

  "You've never seen a square cave before?" Davri grinned a bit.

  "Never even heard of one. It's more like a room, don't you think?"

  Davri nodded. "It's ancient magic… I can feel it, and I've read about these before. There are a few in the world. No chisel marks or anything like that, just perfectly formed angles, where someone pushed all of the rock out of their way."

  "Dwarves?"

  "No. I'm pretty sure they'd find this sort of magic vulgar and invasive. I've only met a couple of dwarves, of course. From what I understand they have too much reverence for the natural order of things to, well, squish everything out like this. This sort of thing took more magic than a dwarf has, or any of the races of the world. The technique used here was reshaping reality on a base level. It would take the power of a god."

  "A god did this?"

  "No. A god would have no desire to." Davri stood, walking over to one of the walls, running his fingers along it. "Someone given the powers of a god. It happened a long time ago, and they ruled the world until they angered the gods and were stricken down. The priests have ruled ever since, speaking for the gods."

  "So, they were…human? But really strong?"

  "Some of them." There was still so much power left in the rock, and Davri drank it in like water. "They were a mix of mortal and god…children of gods. Mostly elves, from what I've learned. You won't be taught about them in any school and finding a book that talks about them is rare. They existed a long, long time ago."

  "We'll be safe here, then?" Naran was looking around, wide eyed. "Since it was made with magic?"

  "For a little while. Mages could find it, and we're still fairly close to Anogrin. But… I think we could stay a few days."

  Naran nodded, and out came the sketch book. Davri smiled to himself and finally relaxed. If the boy had it in him to draw, everything would work out. One way or another.

  The sea was dark gray with frothing, white-tipped waves beyond the shelter of the bay. The wind that whipped it all up was the sort to steal the warmth from any man.

  Raev Madri stared out at the foreboding sea, wrapping his winter cloak tighter around his ample frame. He'd been out upon those waters just hours ago. It had intimidated him and made him ill, but his cousin had begged him to come to Anogrin. Obligation to the dictates of their culture and family bonds had prompted him to come. The son of his father's brother faced hardship. Raev had no choice.

  The letter Arlanz sent had been short.

  "They took my Aaria away from me five years ago, despite our lack of children. Now they demand taxes no one can pay. I know you hate travel, Raev, but you have no family to uproot. Please come. These priests in this accursed land look upon my skin and lack of magic as an excuse to push me around, and because I am but one man I must comply or lose my livelihood.

  "Come quickly, Raev. Bring all of the money the family can spare."

  Money was not a problem for the Madri family. They were known for their spices, coffee, and tea, which was why Arlanz had opened his café. There'd been demand ten short years ago. He'd been successful until now.

  It was of great concern to the entire family that one of their own would be in financial trouble in one of the most prosperous cities of the world.

  There were traces of dark magic upon the letter that made Raev's
skin crawl. He was no mage, but he was sensitive enough to magic around him to know.

  Arlanz wasn't telling the whole story.

  There was something gravely wrong in Anogrin.

  Raev's goods were being unloaded and inspected while he waited on a balcony of the hotel. It was a smaller port he'd never heard of before. They would have traveled on to Merwythan, but the threatening storm had forced them to land, and Raev was sick of the sea. There was a good, solid road between here and Anogrin. He'd take that.

  The port officials were upstanding and conscientious citizens, enough to stay bribed if the payout was substantial enough. It was also out of the way enough that no one would think to ask awkward questions. He didn’t have any contraband, but that was hardly the point. He was paying extra for speed and silence about some of the magical components and books he had decided to bring with him. Some of them could have brought a little more attention than he would have liked, as a foreigner, though it was not exactly forbidden knowledge.

  Sometimes questionable was more dangerous than forbidden.

  "Your wagon is being loaded, Master Madri," a young lady walked up to him. She bowed just a bit as she addressed him. "Will you be leaving this afternoon, or staying the night?"

  "I will stay the night," Raev said. "The road is long, and I do not look forward to the journey."

  The girl bowed deeper and backed away. Raev leaned against the rail of the balcony, watching the sea again. His thoughts turned apprehensive of what he would find at the end of his journey.

  "Don’t go to Anogrin." The man was short and thin, his hair was dark and hung half in his face. He stood next to Raev and grinned like he was enjoying some private joke.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Send the money along. Send the merchandise along. I have a counter-proposal for you."