Chapter 16

Night descended quickly upon the lower city, the last embers of the dying sun’s light falling beneath the horizon’s edge. Asmodeas leaned against the parapet at the apex of the largest belltower in the district, an enormous bronze device suspended behind him. He hoped it didn’t ring any time soon, or he would be seeing just how durable his body enhancement had made his eardrums.

The surrounding area was now bathed in the ethereal light of the moon, and though the bustle of the day had died out, now the streets were beginning to come alive with a different manner of activity, though no less vibrant. Az looked upon it all with amusement and fascination; he had rarely had occasion to venture so far from the more affluent parts of the city, where the nobles resided in private estates such as his family’s own. Sounds of raucous laughter reached his ears as the night’s merriment began in earnest and Az saw men and women of all manners begin to pack into the bars and taverns that seemed to line the streets beneath him in surprising numbers.

With a small channeling of mana to his ears and a brief focus of will, Az’s hearing grew sharper, almost overwhelming him with the sheer amount of noise his senses carried back to him. He focused on what he was hearing, trying to sort through the various sounds that assaulted his ears, savoring each one and then moving on to the next. Az wasn’t sure what had compelled him to venture out of the academy and down into the bowels of the city, wrapped in a dark cloak that was as plain as he could find among the veritable menagerie of showy garments his mother had thrust upon him. Now that he was here he revelled in the sense of anonymity he carried with him. Here, he was just another nameless stranger seeking refuge in the night. Az considered briefly wandering into one of the taverns below to fully immerse himself in the life he was discovering, but the idea was too daunting to be truly tempting. It was one thing to observe all this activity from afar, and quite another to be there among it.

For a time he rested there upon that height, simply enjoying the vista before him, drinking in the sights, sounds, and smells of a city that was so distinct from his own perception of the city that Macedar was. Though the cold grip of winter had not yet taken hold of the city, there was still a noticeable chill in the air. A thick fog had rolled in from the north with the last light of day and now hung heavy over the city in a thick blanket. Az’s sight could penetrate the white veil with the aid of a little mana, but he imagined it must be quite disorientating for anyone below that was not a mage. Something rose up within the cacophony of noise that was making its way to his ears, a discordant note in the symphony of the night. What was it? Az frowned, diverting more mana to enhance his hearing, trying to hone in on that unusual sound. Was that… crying? Yes, now that the thought had occurred to him he could quickly see that it was a quiet sobbing that met his ears, the heaving breath of sorrow.

Az straightened up from where he had slouched upon the tower’s railing, and without conscious thought a surge of mana flowed unbidden to his legs. With an explosive leap accompanied by a burst of unfocused mana from his feet that added further height, Az shot up in a skyward arc until he was high above even the belltower’s peak. For a frozen moment he hung suspended in the air, unmoving, as his leap reached its apex. Above him stars were scattered like brilliant gemstones on a canvas of the deepest black and beneath a formless blanket of white, broken only in places by the tallest buildings of Macedar. His eyes burned with the pale glow of mana, the fog posing no barrier to his sight as he searched for the source of those aching cries. There; a small form hunched over in an alley, shaking with each heaving sob.

Az’s hands drew up behind him, palms splayed, and drawing mana from his nexus he let it build in his hands until there was a noticeable pressure and then he pushed, expelling all the mana he had gathered in a tremendous burst. With a woosh of air he shot down towards where had seen the small form, and it was only as he neared the ground that he realised he was about to impact upon the cobbled street at great speed. So far he had acted on pure instinct, without thought for his safety. Ah, well, he thought, he should be fine. What was the point of all that training if he couldn’t handle a little fall? Just to be safe, he drew more mana from his nexus, which was now visibly diminished, and gathered it into a defensive aura around his body. Before his feet crashed into the ground he expelled as much mana as he could spare from the bottom of his feet, slowing him just enough that though the impact sent jolts of pain up his knees, he was confident that he had survived mostly unscathed.

The boy - and it was a young boy, Az saw - looked up as the mage landed before him. Blinking away tears, the small figure looked up at the young mage standing in front of him, fear and hope warring on his tear-streaked face. Az reckoned he was around eight or nine years old from his appearance, so what he was doing out alone in the fog was uncertain.

Trying to seem as unimposing as possible, Az spoke softly, “Hello there. Are you hurt?”

He waited, and eventually the child managed to choke out a response, clearly holding back his tears with great effort, “No… I’m not hurt.” The boy stared up at Az with brown eyes open wide as if with fear. Az supposed it probably had been quite a fright when he had come falling out of the sky to land before him. He wanted to reassure the boy that no harm would come to him, but Az couldn’t quite find the words. His experience with children was non-existent. Realising that he had been standing there in silence since the child’s reply, he hurried to speak only to be cut off by the boy, “You’re a mage,” he said in a small voice.

“That’s right, well spotted.” Az nodded, smiling, “Now.. can you tell me why you’re out here alone?”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“We were playing, but then.. then it got so dark and the fog.. I couldn’t find them. The others,” the boy managed, growing braver as he spoke, “I don’t know how to get home and Dad said to be home before it got dark but it’s dark and…”

Az felt a pang of compassion as the boy abruptly cut off, his face scrunching up as he began to cry again. “Don’t worry. We’ll see you returned home to your Dad. I promise.”

“Here, you must be cold.” He shrugged off his dark cloak and wrapped it around the boy, his small frame vanishing beneath the folds as he drew it close to ward off the night’s chill. Az was left a bit underdressed for the weather, but he quickly realised that while he was aware it was quite cold he felt no discomfort. Another benefit of his training, he supposed. He looked around; the fog had only grown thicker and more oppressive since they had been talking.

“Now, let’s do something about this fog, shall we?” Az’s mind landed on a spellform that should do the trick; really, it was meant to just release a burst of wind in a given direction, but with a little modification of the targeting runes, he should be able to push away some of the fog. A moment of inspiration struck him, and he added in a rune that should heat up the wind produced and help disperse the fog. So, Colin’s lessons on geography hadn’t been a total waste of time. He began drawing mana into the spell as the boy watched with wide eyes from within his new cloak. There really was quite a lot of fog… Asmodeas drew more mana until he had drained about a third of his nexus.

Stepping closer to the boy so he didn’t get blown away by the spell like a leaf caught in the wind, he finished powering the spellform and released his grip on his mana. A thunderous roar rose up as a veritable explosion of heated air burst out of the space around him in all directions, a wave of air that blew out of the alley in an audible rush. Ah.. perhaps he had overdone it. He hoped he hadn’t blown in any windows nearby. The fog had been pushed out entirely of the alley, so that the surrounding buildings were now visible, though beyond the alley’s mouth he could already see tendrils of white in the distance beginning to creep closer once again. The young boy at his side was looking around with visible awe, his tears and cold forgotten for the moment. Az gestured, and an orb of ethereal light sprang into being above his palm. The soft blue tones of his light joined the radiance of the moon in illuminating the surrounding street and Az looked at his young charge expectantly, “Do you know where we are now?” he prodded gently, “I’m not from around here.”

The boy nodded, not looking Az in the eyes and said “It’s Cobbler’s Walk.”

“And do you know how to get home from here? I’ll walk with you.”

“I think so.. it’s that way,” a small finger emerged from within Az’s large cloak, and the boy pointed out of the alley, and down the gently sloping street.

“I see. Are you ready to go?” Az glanced at his new companion, who nodded once in reply, “Let’s get you home then. Try not to trip over the end of your cloak.”

With that, the two began off down the moonlit street, guided further by Az’s summoned orb of light. The fog began to slowly regain its grip on the street as they walked, though with a few more directed bursts of wind Az could clear the path before them for a time. His young companion began to speak more as they continued their journey, and Az learned his name was Peel, and that he lived with his father, a merchant of some sort. Of his mother he made no mention. Peel had asked him his own name, and though he was not sure why, Az felt compelled to offer a false name in return. The name Kyro had sprung to mind, and so he had introduced himself to the young boy as such. Perhaps he was clinging to that sense of anonymity he had felt earlier, and though Peel likely did not know who the Tantalus family were, his father certainly would, even if he would likely not have heard of Asmodeas himself.

Soon they came to a quiet street which seemed to be lined with shop fronts with residences established on a second storey. They reached a building with a sign advertising “Marc’s Spices and Herbs”, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating the interior, and Peel hurried up to the closed door, nearly falling over his cloak in the process. He hammered on the door, all shyness gone, and almost immediately the shop door was pulled inwards, revealing a heavyset man glaring down at the young boy with a fierce expression.

What commenced was a scolding so fierce that Az cringed back in alarm, remembering many similar telling-offs he had received from Colin or his father over the years. Eventually, Peel’s father noticed Az standing there, and after his son made some introductions and offered a brief explanation as to what happened the man invited the young mage into his home warmly, his former anger forgotten. Az felt somewhat awkward imposing on the man’s hospitality, but his attempts at refusal were waved away firmly.

Marc threw a hearty supper together for his son and his guest, thanking Az for guiding his son home with effusive gratitude. He seemed fascinated by the fact that Az was a mage, asking questions about the academy and his studies. It seemed he wished for Peel to attend the academy when he came of age, if he possessed enough talent to gain entry. For his part, Asmodeas, or “Kyro” as he was now awkwardly answering to, quite enjoyed answering the man’s questions. It was enjoyable to talk about something he had such passion for, with someone that was truly interested in learning. Marc explained that he had never had the funds necessary to pursue the study of magic, though he could manage some basic spells that nearly everyone learned at some point in their lives. Spells for heating cold food, lighting a room, and other such useful spellforms. Of course, entrance to the Academy was free for citizens of Macedar, though without significant tutelage an applicant would almost always lack the necessary qualities to earn a place within the grounds.

Az was embarrassed by his own ignorance and privilege. He had always known that not many people practiced magic seriously, though all humans were born with a nexus. He had always presumed that people simply weren’t interested in the life of a mage, for whatever reason, though he was now beginning to understand that it simply wasn’t feasible for the majority of people to devote their life to study magic like he did. Time spent studying was time not spent working or earning money. Not everyone had the support of a family like his own. He almost felt guilty for his own blessings.

The two men talked for many hours, their discussions largely focused on the academy or its famous Chancellor, and so it was that Az left his new friend’s home under the first light of morning with an invitation to return the next weekend to share a lunch with the family. It was one of the more fulfilling nights he had ever spent in the company of others, and he truly looked forward to seeing Marc and Peel again. The dynamic between father and son the two shared was alien to him. His father had always been an unknowable presence, always acting for the benefit of the Tantalus family, though lacking a fundamental warmth that Az had glimpsed that night.

Asmodeas travelled back to the academy as the city was beginning to wake, once again wrapped in his cloak though the night’s chill had retreated, bounding along the streets with great strides powered by his mana. He had promised to demonstrate some magic for young Peel the next week. Az was determined to think up a truly impressive showcase of his magic in that time, hoping to be worthy of the boy’s enthusiasm.

The night had been a good break from his routine, and he felt a lightness within his heart that made even the prospect of a week of grueling training seem like no great trial.

Arriving once more to the Academy’s grounds, Az smiled; it was time to get to work.