Jin sat down and stared directly into the man’s eyes. He hid his trembling fingers inside the pockets of his coat and spoke as resolutely as his racing heart allowed him.
“This is nonsense. There’s no way Manuel would be able to threaten the entire world into submission while making himself still look like the hero. Sure, he can be a bit… crazy, but he is a good man deep inside.”
“You misunderstood me. I never claimed he wasn’t a good man. But sometimes, the most terrible events happen due to the purest of intentions. His idea of keeping the world away from conflict comes from the desire to prevent another tragedy like the one that befell him. Manuel Luzardi, you see, was a child of war.”
The ground shook one more time. It was happening so often that the little boy hiding under the piled-up rubble was already prepared for it. Yet another bomb dropped. Another spell aimed to destroy his country. The wave of magic it caused flooded the streets. The boy took a deep breath and clenched his teeth. Tears escaped his eyes. Even though they were closed he could still see his father just as one of the waves of magic carried him away and cracked his head open against the rocks.
The magic flew into the tiny space under a crumbled building that he called his hiding place. It felt like he was being crushed to death. The pressure pushed the air out of his lungs. He dug his fingers into the dirt in an attempt to withstand it. Surely enough, just as the magic quickly appeared, it left once again.
The boy collapsed to the ground, curled up and gasping for air. Seventeen bombs, seventeen waves. That’s how many he counted just during his time here in the tiny hideout.
A torn piece of yellow fabric wandered in through the opening. The little orphan grabbed it and pulled it closer. He bit down on his lower lip as he pushed back the urge to cry. Should anyone hear him, they would quickly come to finish what they came here for. There were no more good soldiers left. Only those set out to kill.
The little yellow fabric looked just like the one his mother used to wear. All gatherers had them. A symbol of their role in the town’s community. It most likely belonged to one of the neighbours, but to him, it was the only reminder of his mother. He’d do anything to erase the memory of her pushing him away from the incoming magic. The fire spell that struck her left little to be buried. Not that there would be anyone left to bother with a funeral in the first place.
A white fabric lay tied around the boy’s waist. In two years he’d be able to replace it. The symbol of childhood would be discarded and he’d get to join the gatherers, following the footsteps of his mother. Now that future would never come to be. The innocent white he wore was now stained by crimson red, shed by yet another victim of the senseless slaughter.
For two days, the waves of magic washed over the town, making sure nobody would attempt to rescue any wounded. Each wave was a suffering to withstand, and yet the more it happened, the more the boy grew accustomed to the feeling of magic. It now surrounded him. A faint layer of yellow, like the cloth of his mother.
Finally, more than 48 hours later, the bombing stopped. The boy crawled out of his hiding and wandered the empty streets. Nobody could even say what the place looked like before the attack. It was nothing but collapsed buildings and rubble. Into that dark, silent night, the boy’s magic shined like a faint golden beacon of hope.
“His skills in magic were born of bloodshed and the necessity to survive,” the old man said.
Shivers ran down Jin’s spine. Manuel had learned magic through instinct, to protect himself from the environment. It sounded hauntingly similar.
“He grew into a fine young man. Didn’t take long and he became an apprentice for a wizard. He had potential, and old man Fernstaw, one of the elders of a nearby empire, took a liking to him. But everything shifted due to a single letter.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?” Manuel yelled at his master.
“One day, maybe,” the old wizard replied and tossed some more wood into the fireplace.
“One day? You’d just one day mention that you willingly went to become a murderer!”
A letter rested in Manuel’s hand. It wore the seal of the emperor. A call to arms was written on it. All five strongest wizards of the empire were supposed to join forces and help the soldiers take over the capital of their neighbouring nation.
“You do not understand. Your past blinds you.”
“I see clearer than ever. You’re nothing but a puppet! The emperor calls on you and you come kiss his feet like the good little dog you are!”
The wizard sprung up from his armchair. Sparks flew out of his fiery red robe.
“You will not speak to me this way! I am not happy about it either, but I have no choice! This tower, this life, all I have, is because of the emperor. I get to live as a licensed wizard, and this is the only thing I have to do in return. One day, that will be your duty too, so you better get used to it!”
“I will never bow to a ruler who slaughters innocents in his foolish conquests.”
“That is how the world works, boy! The kings and the royal wizards hold all the power. The sooner you learn who to bow before, the easier your life is going to get.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Manuel tossed the letter into the fire and stormed off. The door of the tower slammed shut behind him. His mentor collapsed back into his armchair and gazed out of the window.
“When will you learn that there is no such thing as true freedom, boy?” he said and sighed before reaching for his teacup.
Lorican paused for a moment and watched Jin’s lacklustre reaction. “Are you listening to me?”
The boy nodded. “You make up nice stories.”
“None of it is made up.”
“Then how do you know all this?”
The man smiled. “Manuel wasn’t always very clever. We’ve met once. A very long time ago. He made a deal with me. As you have surely noticed, I am quite proficient at manipulating the mind. He wanted something ugly removed from his head, and that gave me the chance at seeing certain parts of his life. The history books then filled in the gaps.”
Jin scoffed. “He needed your help? With magic? No way. Manuel can do anything related to magic. Doesn’t need help from the likes of you.”
“Sometimes having the skills to do something doesn’t make it easy to actually perform.”
Jin raised his eyebrow.
“Have you ever asked Manuel about his family?”
“No. Never had the reason.”
“And he wouldn’t tell you anyway. He asked me, centuries ago, to remove any and all attachment he felt towards his parents. Right now, he doesn’t even remember their names anymore. Nor their faces. To do something like this to yourself would require en exceptionally strong will. One that he did not have back then.”
“That’s terrible!”
“That’s practical. Memories of them only held him back. He grew significantly as a person when he was free of his past. Unfortunately, that was only one part of the problem. His hatred of war followed him throughout his life. That was not something I could simply remove.”
Emperor of Constalatia had a habit of collecting useful people. He believed that anyone can possess a skill worth cultivating. Painters made wonderful portraits of him and his family, so he often sponsored countless artists. Chefs were crucial to his glamorous feasts and balls, so culinary schools were founded all across the empire. But his most favourite kind of people were the wizards. So rare and so interesting. They were like pebbles. The same kind, yet each different in their own respective way.
The Five-point star was perhaps the most prominent group of spellcasters in the entire empire. Whatever they wanted, the emperor would give them. Grandiose mansions, godlike artefacts, and so much gold and jewellery they could swim in it. There were little limits to their requests, and for a very good reason. Those five combined were the ultimate weapon. Nigh immortal, and wielding the powers of deities. Most people considered them the strongest wizards in the world, and they were right, to a certain extent.
It was a horrific day in the history of the people of Nue Olpa. They were losing their war against the empire for years now, and their king, despite being a great military leader, was at the brink of a mental collapse. When the Five-point star arrived at the doorstep of their capital, along with an an army of thousands, the monarch finally snapped. Madness descended upon him, leaving the last defenders of the kingdom to fight demoralized without their ruler.
The five wizards hovered high above the ground as a symbol of destruction that was approaching the Nue Olpa capital. Fernstaw led the assault. While the four behind him gathered their magic, he opened up his scroll and read the emperor’s decree.
“Few dare to rise up against the misfortune bestowed upon them by cruel fate. Those who can do so and carve their own path are to be hailed as the champions of life. However, I am not fate. Constalatian empire offered you peace under its wings. You decided to rather rise up against our benevolence. To this, I cannot turn a blind eye. If you love to resist fate so much, your people will be allowed to do so amongst the heavens. The remnants of your defiant culture will be swept from this land. Your past will be erased from the annals of history.” Fersntaw took a deep breath. His comrades had finished conjuring the final magical bomb. All that remained was one last sentence. Just a few more words and he could go back to the comfort of his home. “I, emperor Utaro VII., hereby declare that the kingdom of Nue Olpa never existed.”
Fernstaw turned around and added his own bit of magic into the bomb. It was ready.
The spell flew through the sky like a falling star. Clouds parted and the entire valley drowned in blue hue. The sound it made was like a wild stampede. Fitting for what would happen to the kingdom that was about to become its victim.
A wave of pressure tossed both the armies to the ground as the spell abruptly stopped. The bomb hovered in the sky, yet refused to move an inch. The Five-point star stared at it with mouths agape. A single young wizard floated beside it.
“Fernstaw, you always use your magic in the same way. Makes it so predictable. If one was to learn the pattern of its flow, purely hypothetically, they could, I don’t know, maybe stop any spell you’d work on,” Manuel proclaimed.
“Boy…” his old mentor gasped. “You chose the wrong side. Why serve a crumbling kingdom? Why throw your life away for its weak king?”
“You’re wrong old man. I’m not serving any king. For once in my life, I’m doing what I want.”
He reached into his robe and pulled out an empty, scrunched up piece of paper. He haphazardly unfolded it and began mimicking Fernstaw’s speech.
“Too long have I watched the world idly. It makes me sick. Something has to change. And that change starts today. I, Manuel Luzardi, hereby officially declare the age of emperors and kings to be over.”
The bomb picked up speed once more, but this time, in the opposite direction. The Five-point star gathered magic. Their auras flared up as they prepared to intercept this fresh intruder.
Emperor Utaro slid his knife through the ham he was served and carefully carried the slice onto the plate of his advisor. It was no grand celebration. The Nue Olpa kingdom was tiny. Conquering them was barely an achievement worth celebrating. The only ones present at the table were the king’s closest allies. The five empty chairs were then reserved for the members of the Five-point star for when they’d return.
“Enjoying the meal, your majesty?” The incoming voice slightly startled the emperor, until he looked to the entrance to the hall and saw a familiar face.
“Ah, Fernstaw’s apprentice. Please, have a seat. This celebration is not for you, so do be kind and keep your hands off the food. But you are free to wait for your master until he returns. I’m sure you are as eager as I am to hear of his story from the battlefield today. But…” he paused as he looked upon the boy’s robes. “Dear ley-lines, could you have taken anything cleaner, perhaps?”
“My humblest apologies, your majesty, but considering that I will dirty myself again in the close future, I wanted to save myself the trouble of changing. Now, there is something I came here to tell you. A message from my master and his friends.”
“Oh? And what message is my star team sending me?”
Manuel clapped. In a bright flash of light, the five empty seats filled with torn and bloodied clothing, each fitting one member of the Five-point star.
“They apologize for not being able to join us today.”