“There is no room for failure. If the order finds out that you have been exposed, we will expunge all records of you,” Stavos said. He wore a dark wool coat with a hood that would conceal his face from prying eyes. His body had been badly burned and his face had been marred by a sharp edge.The bandage cloth he wore from the neck down, covered the splotches of red and decayed flesh. Rotting flesh hung loose in some parts. It was a dreadful sight. You could still see traces of light brown skin from before the burns. The fire had been contained mostly to the left side of his body where he had an eyepatch to cover his glass eye.

Across from him, in the carriage, Nero sat fiddling with a hangnail that would not fall off no matter how much he pulled at it.

“Look at me when I talk to you boy or I swear I’ll kill you now. I’ll toss you into a ditch out there and leave your remains to the maggots and birds.”

Nero looked up from his hands and glared at Stavos. The boy’s bright brown eyes burned with passion but Stavos ignored him and began to dig through a small leather sack.

“Recite your script for me. We are almost to the village and there will be no mistakes in front of the inquisitors,” Stavos said.

“I’m Nero, a farmhand at the Sylvanella residence who just began working there this month. Before that I lived in an orphanage in the closest town of Lyis. Mr.Sylvanella gave me the job after the unfortunate death of his two sons. I was never tested for my potential because the orphanage didn’t have any record of my birth and I’m on the small side.”

“If they ask you about your parents what will you say?”

“They died in a fire and I was too young to remember them.” Nero looked out of the carriage, at a small farm that had a large collection of sheep grazing. Three black dogs with a brown undercoat chased them around the pasture. A man stood on the top of the hill whistling at the dogs but Nero couldn’t make out his face.

They had begun passing small solitary farms just two days ago after crossing into the borderlands. Spring had just arrived and most were out planting new crops or tending animals. They were near the border, close to the Faraday mountains; most farmers would be working in earnest to meet their quotas for harvest.

Stavos pulled out a small box that was carved on the top with deep indents to look like waves. It was made with a deep brown oak and well polished. The box had no opening at first glance but Stavos spun the corner and the top popped open.

“Here, take your dosage for this week, Stavos said while handing over a small vial with a sparkling crimson liquid in it. Nero grabbed the vial carefully and pulled the wood cork out. He plugged his nose with his fingers as if he were about to jump in the river for a swim. He downed the liquid in one go and began making gagging sounds as it made its way down his throat. He still hadn’t grown used to the taste.

Stavos snatched the used vial out of Nero’s hand, tossed it in the bag, and held out the box for Nero to grab. “There are ten more doses in the box. That’s more than enough to stave off your mana heart’s collapse before you get a chance to make contact with your handler. When you arrive you'll receive your medicine from him at a discrete location within the city.”

Nero took the box and placed it on the seat next to him as carefully as he could and reached under the seat for his own bag. A small tan bag had been stitched together with a strap he could wear over his shoulder to match his identity as a farmer. In the bag all he kept was a bar of soap he made from pig fat and lye, flint, a small knife, rope, a water skin, and a small blanket. The order didn’t allow him to own his own possessions so he coveted the few items he’d been allowed for the journey. He slid the box of vials between the blanket and placed it back beneath him.

“You still haven’t told me what I’m supposed to be doing at the academy,” Nero said. “I know you’ve given me a mana heart like other mages have, and I’m to join the empire’s academy, but beyond that I’m lost.”

“Just worry about becoming the best mage possible and moving up the ranks. The order will send out tasks through the alchemist who will pass them onto you. Other than that you will simply write reports based on what’s happening in the academy.”

“Reports about what?” Stavos didn’t have eyebrows due to them being singed off, but his forehead creases worked just as well as a furrowed brow.

“The strength of mages at the academy, important individuals you meet, troop movements, and whatever else you think we might want to know.”

His flippant tone silenced Nero. He had learned from the slaps and whippings exactly how far he could push his impudence with the order’s mages. Up in the mountains their word was law and this carriage ride held the same rules. The trip had been filled with harsh words from Stavos. When his temper flared he could hit as hard as a wind storm. Nero’s face still had bruises from the long ride. They were not as pronounced on his dark brown skin but they had stung.

“If the order finds your info useless then you’ll stop receiving your medicine and your heart will explode,” Stavos said. He smiled at his threat and showed off his stained yellow teeth. Nero kept his expression as plain as possible. The bruises he had now would have to do. “Find a way to make yourself useful or I’ll come myself rather than waiting for your heart to shatter.”

Three quick knocks sounded from the driver side wall behind Stavos, causing him to pause his long tirade. Nero observed quietly as Stavos responded with three knocks of his own. No knocks came back and the carriage slowed to a complete stop. Nero had seen the pattern before in their journey. One knock meant something was on the road, two knocks meant it was time for break and this was the first Nero had heard three knocks.

“Stay in the carriage,” Stavos snarled. He pushed open the carriage door and stepped out onto the old dirt path. They were in a small forested area surrounded by large mounds of rock and dirt that nothing grew on except old spindly trees.

Stavos closed the door and Nero peered out the window. A large tree trunk had fallen onto the path. That should mean one knock. While Stavos studied it a group of around 8 men had come from behind one of the mounds and were walking toward the carriage. They were dressed mainly in tattered shirts and loose fitted pants. Some didn’t have shoes. Their toenails were black and their feet had looked as worn as the leather on the bottom of a shoe. The leader carried a sword and the others behind him carried wooden clubs that had been studded with spikes. Bandits! Nero saw Stavos approach the men but he didn’t pull out the sword that hung on his side.

The leader had long black hair that was matted down in some sections and standing straight up in others. His skin was dark like most men in the northern regions of the empire. Nero couldn’t hear the exchange between Stavos and the bandits but he could clearly see the leader pointing to the cart. Nero lowered himself down so just part of his head stuck out.

Three of the bandits rushed from behind their leader with their clubs raised overhead. Right before they could reach him, Stavos raised his right hand on his unburnt side and a streak of a blinding blue shot from his hands into the three men. They immediately collapsed into a smoldering heap and laid still. The bandits abandoned their weapons and took off running in multiple directions. They screamed in fear as Nero watched in horror. Stavos slowly pursued them, his hand flashing with streaks of blue beams. With each flash of light a bandit would be sent tumbling down.

The bandit leader reached the mound and Nero lost sight of him. The other bandits lay dead on the ground. Stavos did a quick about face and yelled to the two drivers of the cart. “Get the tree out the way. I want to be at the village by nightfall. I refuse to miss our window of oppurtunity!”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Stavos came back to the carriage with his face scrunched up into a scowl. Nero shifted uneasily in his seat and stared at the scarred man with fear and awe.

“Will I be able to do that,” Nero asked.

Stavos snorted and said, “you’ll never be a mage of my caliber. Just focus on the task in front of you.” Before long the carriage was back moving along the spindly road, with the fading sun and bodies behind them.

It didn’t take long for day to turn into night. the sun was fading fast, leaving just a sliver of light. The trees now cast shadows that stretched the length of a river. A knock came just as Nero could feel his vision blurring into sleep. Through the wall, one of the drivers said, “we’re approaching the village.” It came out muffled but it was enough to rouse Nero.

“Get ready we’re pulling into village,”Stavos said. The carriage stopped rattling as the road turned smoother, and came to a stop after a moment. Stavos opened the door and muttered, “I hate coming to these disgusting villages. It smells like dung and piss.”

Nero sifted through the contents of his bag one last time before following Stavos out of the carriage. The sun had just left the horizon as their horse drawn carriage wheeled into the village. Candle wicks, hanging on the outside of the buildings flickered in the darkness, illuminating the small buildings in the vicinity. It had only been Nero’s third time out of the compound, but the village reminded him of those he had seen before. A combination of small patchwork buildings jutted out of the ground wherever space could be found and villagers milled about carrying baskets.

Stavos led the way toward a bigger building close to the center of the village. He kept his hand on the pommel of his sword. Nero followed closely behind with his bag over his shoulder. The building they approached had glass windows and through a crack in the blinds of them, Nero could see the villagers singing. As they got closer he began to hear them too. The loud discordant voices made his ears twitch in discomfort.

“Don’t say anything unless I tell you to. And if I tell you to speak, contain your words to the least amount possible. You still need more practice in the proper accent, so the less you speak the better.”

Stavos pushed the door to the inn and strode into the room. Nero followed right on his heels. The heads of almost all the villagers turned to see the new arrivals, except for a few too caught up in the chorus of the song. A group sitting at a table close to the door eyed the sword Stavos carried and moved to a different table closer to the musician. Curious onlookers continued to eye them, but they gave a wide berth to the two travelers.

“Go sit over there and don’t move. I need to settle the arrangement.” Stavos’ gaze had settled on an old barkeeper who stood behind the bar wiping down a mug. Stavos left Nero standing in the middle of the inn and the curious eyes stayed on him as he went. Nero looked around the inside and settled on a table far enough away from others that he shouldn't have to speak, but close enough to hear the musician.

The musician stood on a wooden box playing a merry tune that had completely engrossed its audience. The sound of the flute the musician played, flowed in a whimsical and upbeat tone. Nero could feel himself being drawn in. Nero had always been fascinated by the sound of instruments. At the compound music wasn’t allowed, so he and the other initiates mostly stuck to inharmonious singing. Instruments were different. They could sound good no matter who played them.

As Nero sat entranced by the music, an older man with a scraggly beard approached him. “Nice to meet you, stranger. My name is Bain.” the man’s voice carried as if Nero sat across the inn. His face held a deep tan common near the mountain range and his hair wound up into tight curls. Bain stuck out his hand and Nero met it. His thick hands, rough and calloused, enveloped Nero’s hand completely. “My group of friends and I were wondering what you and your father came to Loaline for. This village is pretty out of the way for most people.” Bain pointed back to his table where four other young men stared at their conversation with eager smiles.

“He is not my father. I actually work as a farmhand at the Sylvanella residence a little ways out. I got attacked by bandits while delivering a package for Mr. Sylvanella and that man saved me.”

“You work for that old man? I have never seen you before. When did you start working there?”

“I moved in only a few weeks ago. My parents died when I was young so I’ve been wandering around doing odd jobs here and there.” The musician stepped off the box he had been standing on and gave a bow to the crowd. They cheered for him to continue but he just waved them off and walked toward the bar where Stavos and the barkeep were locked in a heated discussion.

“What would Mr. Sylvanella even need help with. All his animals have died, or been sold off. It can’t be farming. You look well built for a kid but you can’t be older than fourteen. He could’ve come to town if he needed extra hands.”

“You know how Mr. Sylvanella can be,” Nero replied. Nero had never met the man. He knew Mr. Sylvanella had connections to the order, but beyond that Stavos kept info about him vague. Nero hoped the vague declaration would be enough for Bain and it was. Bain nodded and gave a knowing look.

“Yeah the man is a complete mystery. I honestly can barely remember what he looks like. Everyone in town is waiting for the old scrooge to kick the bucket so we can go see if he’s got anything valuable in that mansion of his. I’m hoping for a nice mirror. My wife has been bugging me to buy her one when the merchants pass by but they are way too expensive. Halaena would look so good in a mirror.” Bain took a huge swig of the mug he’d slammed down on the table. His head swayed back and forth as if teetering on an edge. “Wait a minute. Where the hell did the music go!”

Nero had seen enough drunk men celebrating in the compound to know the man in front of him would wake up angry at his choices the night before. Bain spotted the musician talking to the barkeep and Stavos, and staggered over toward them. Chairs in his path got knocked over. When Bain arrived at the group near the bar he stumbled into Stavos. Some of the alcohol in Bain’s mug also spilled over onto Stavos. Nero winced at the sight.

Stavos didn’t react immediately as Nero expected. Stavos had a reputation for losing control over minor inconveniences which is why Nero tried to keep his dissenting opinions about the order quiet when the man roamed the compound. Stavos stepped away from the bar and reached into his cloak. He tossed out a few silver coins on the bar, and did an about-face making a bee-line toward Nero.

Nero jumped out of his chair and willed his hands up in the air to protect his face from Stavos’s ensuing anger. Nero could see the scowl on the man’s lips even though most of his face remained hidden under the cowl. He stopped in front of Nero and put his palm forward. Nero flinched at the sudden action, but once he realized the hit wasn’t coming he lifted his eyes toward Stavos palm. Stavos held a tiny golden bead. “Go on, take it before I force it down your throat,” Stavos snarled.

Nero reached out and grabbed the bead. When it touched his palm, a chill went down his spine. The warmth that dwelled in his hand dwindled until he couldn’t feel his fingers. He tried to drop the bead but Stavos grabbed ahold of his hand to keep it still. Just when he thought his hand would freeze, the cold feeling dissipated and warmth flooded back into his hand. Stavos took the bead back and placed it in his coat pocket.

“That mark should last long enough for you to beat any low level artifacts the inquisitors have. I’m leaving tonight before I kill all these fools, and jeopardize the mission. Be ready for when the inquisitors arrive tomorrow. My pride is yours to keep.” Stavos pushed open the door and walked out the door, leaving Nero alone for the first time. The villagers in the inn who had gone quiet during the exchange burst back into lively conversation.

“Your pride is mine to seek,” Nero mumbled in response, but Stavos was already out the door.

As Nero stared at the door Stavos just left through he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the barkeep rubbing his hands on a towel. His thick frame and hairy exterior matched the intimidating glare he gave. “The traveler already paid for your room for the night. I doubt you’ll be able to make it all the way back to Mr. Sylvanella’s house before well into the night so you can head back tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Nero mumbled. In the background the musician came back on and started up a new rendition of the melody he previously played. All the villagers present flocked back toward him to listen. Bain stood up on a table and his friends cheered for him.

“I have to go take care of that idiot but I'll be back to show you to your room.” The Barkeep started yelling obscenities at Bain, but Nero tuned them out. His mind was elsewhere and his feet carried him out the front door. He looked at where the carriage once pulled in and only saw faint tracks left in the mud. He followed the tracks up the road and through the village houses.

Nero made it to the makeshift wall of stacked up stones and there he saw it. The carriage looked like a rescinding shadow as it wheeled away from the village. His foot took one more step toward the carriage before he turned around and walked back toward the Inn. “All alone again. I’ll be back for you before you know it,” he whispered.