A sharp, rapid knock with a telling sense of self-importance rousted me from what I would consider a near-perfect sleep. It was early yet, and I couldn’t make out the rough hour of the morning from the dim light that shone through the room’s narrow window; it was early, though—I knew it had to be if it really was the old man standing before my chamber door.
“What do you want, Carolus?” I called, sitting up and stretching to ward off the stiffness that came with sleeping on a stone floor.
“I require your assistance,” came the reply through the door.
I sighed, “Give me a moment.”
Kipp was still sound asleep; that boy could probably sleep through a thunderstorm. Leaving him undisturbed, I pulled on a shirt and hastily laced up my boots before unlatching the door and joining the old man in the hall.
“Where’s Enzio?”
“Sleeping, I would imagine,” Carolus said, motioning for me to follow.
“You’re not going to wake him?”
“No. I do not require his aid, and he deserves some rest after his performance yesterday.”
My head cocked to the side, “And what of me? I understand Enzio’s affliction drains him, but it was I who led the siege on the city.”
Carolus waved his hand dismissively, “I love Enzio as if he were my own, but it is fruitless to deny that he is not as robust as you, particularly where afflictions come into question. Furthermore, you are the one suited to the task at hand.”
“An honor to receive such high praise,” I muttered.
The old man scowled, “You are ill-tempered this morning.”
His eyes searched for a moment, his expression soon softening a modicum like granite turning to shale. No doubt he was peering into my soul.
“Disregard my crassness, but I am earnest in requiring your aid.”
Nothing more was exchanged between us as I was led to one of the rooms of the upper floor. A word of incantation was whispered by Carolus and the door swung open, granting us admittance. Inside, I spied Loken, the wizard still gagged and bound as he was the day before. Around him was a ring of unknown magic runes drawn on the floor.
“You haven’t freed him yet?”
Carolus chuckled, and I thought I saw Loken miming the same. “It would be foolish to give an unproven magician the chance to act.”
“So, what is all this for?”
“I will strip him of his magics, at least until I know he can be trusted. We have conversed in mens sensus at some length, and he claims to be able to deliver us an artifact that could prove to be expedient.”
“What need have you of me?” I asked.
“Assurance, namely.”
“Assurance…?” I asked, watching as Carolus placed a heavy, leather-bound tome on a wooden stand and proceeded to leaf through the pages.
“It is easier to hide one’s true intentions in the mind than it is in the physical. Do you remember my lessons on mens sensus?”
“The ‘sense of the mind’; it’s how you can tell what others are thinking,” I answered, knowing that my response wouldn’t be up to Carolus’ standards.
“I see you were not as attentive as you pretended to be, but your answer is, even with its simplicity, essentially correct. The most crude and base usage for the sense of the mind is to expand your own consciousness into that of others. That means that when two wizards wish, they can simultaneously present thoughts for the other to glean. It also means they are safe from casting spells, hexes, or other maledictions on the other. However, as masters of their own minds, wizards can easily deceive one another with such tactics.”
“You want me to crush him if he tries anything.”
Carolus sighed, “Yes. As always, your brevity astounds.”
After gathering a few more ingredients: a red powder, salt, and dried hemlock leaves, Carolus looked at me and then Loken. “Are you both ready?”
Me and the bound wizard nodded, prompting the old man to begin reading from his book.
“Nunc faucibus lectus eget justo tincidunt ullamcorper. Praesent vulputate arcu sit amet ex consectetur, sed auctor libero eleifend. Nulla pellentesque ex ut enim blandit, a semper nulla tincidunt. Nullam nec enim lectus. In rhoncus mauris ut ex posuere, in pretium quam posuere. Fusce vitae mi eu dui cursus bibendum sed sit amet sapien. Cras metus velit, eleifend quis commodo vitae, porta in erat. Etiam in nibh nec neque venenatis pulvinar vitae vel diam. Suspendisse eget odio a elit vehicula convallis. Quisque tristique nulla vitae convallis convallis!”
As he spoke, Carolus took a pinch of the red powder with one hand, a bit of salt with the other, and tossed them in the bowl of hemlock. Green smoke began to trail from the shallow bowl, like a fire had been spontaneously lit. The smoke was unlike that which comes from the burning of wood; it was smooth and uniform like a ribbon of silk as it drifted in a lazy arc around the room and then again, making concentric loops of brilliant emerald color that, when the incantation reached a fever pitch, fell to the floor like it had become leaded.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
Now, the charcoal-sketched circle of runes took on a green glow and animated, moving like living shadows across the floor. With the final words of the spell, the glowing circle leapt into the air and cinched to Loken where it passed through his robes. The man let out a muffled cry of pain, and I could swear to hear a searing sizzle as smoke billowed off the man.
But the episode of discomfort seemed to pass quickly.
“Unbind him,” came Carolus’ orders as he shut his book to put it away.
I pulled away the man’s simple muzzle and then got to work undoing hid bindings.
“Thank you. It is good to speak freely once more,” Loken said, smiling despite what I imagined was far from a pleasant ordeal.
“Hm,” was my only reply as I loosed the knot tying his hands.
“All my magic is gone?” Loken asked, rubbing his wrists as he looked at Carolus.
“Indeed—feel free to test my handiwork.”
“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet…” Loken muttered, gripping the air with open empty hands.
Carolus chuckled, “Going back to the basics, aren’t we?”
Loken shrugged, “If I am truly cut off from Dolinthamir, I figured it was the simplest way to confirm such a fact.”
“You are from Dolinthamir, then? Like Carolus?” I asked.
“Indeed, one of the first to be presented robes since the Affliction,” Loken said, bordering on boast.
His grin and intense look had returned, still primarily focused on Carolus.
“Loken, why did you surrender so readily when I broke down the baron’s door? While I’m glad you didn’t subject me to any magic, it seemed almost too easy; still does,” I said, folding my arms.
The wizard flicked his eyes to me. “There were whispers Carolus was soon to return to the Empire, and murmurings that he was collecting survivors of the Affliction, though to what end no one could determine. When I witnessed the ease with which you destroyed by barriers and a door of solid metal, I took you for a mage of powerful enchantments to bolster your strength to such heights, or, possibly, that you had access to such a mage—Carolus, perhaps. I saw it as the best option to avoid an untimely demise.”
“So, you know of Carolus?”
“Cease your rambling, Caedmon: of course, he does,” Carolus said, putting the last of his equipment back in its place.
The younger mage laughed, “Indeed, all who know anything of magic have heard tales of the Archmage of the Empire. Or previous Archmage, I should say.”
“There is another?” Carolus asked, wheeling around with a grimace.
“You have been absent these ten years past; Yolruthur has taken your place,” Loken said with apology.
“That inane fool? What madness prompted his ascension to my title?” Carolus whispered a curse under his breath. “Mind not the politics—we have matters at hand to discuss. Where is the barrow?”
“Not far, I assure you. All my research indicates Hrisymnaut was buried in this general region, not far form the capital of his kingdom. Before you all arrived, I traced some latent magic to a vale ten miles from here.”
“You mean to say that you have not actually discovered the tomb?” Carolus asked with a flash of anger.
“I am almost certain,” Loken said calmly.
“What are you both going on about?” I asked the old man.
“Hrisymnaut was one of the last old ones; a giantling who ruled out forefathers before the rise of the Dolinthamiri. Rumor was he had an enchanted map that showed the world as the birds see, letting him scry freely on his surroundings. If legends be true, he was never outflanked or ambushed by his enemies.”
“The map is the artifact you spoke of?”
Carolus nodded, stroking his beard, lost in thought, “If we were to secure the map, and learn its secrets, it would be of no small aid to us.”
“I suppose I’ll be fetching it then?”
“None are more capable,” Carolus said. “in fact, perhaps you could take the other Afflicted with you, help them grow more accustomed to their awakened state.”
“Ah yes, I have been meaning to ask,” Loken interrupted, “How have you managed to awaken the Afflicted? None of my colleagues have managed such a feat, and I seriously doubt it was the actions of the banished prince that suddenly allowed such commoners to bend magics without speech in the old tongue.”
“Your doubts betray you: Prince Enzio’s afflicted have granted him a blessing he can extend to the other Afflicted. But your colleagues know of the greater potential of the Afflicted?”
Loken’s grin grew into a sly smile at the old man’s apparent concern, “I could be banished from telling you such things, but I do suppose I am your prisoner…”
Carolus’ eyes narrowed, sensing ulterior motive as did I, “What do you want, stripling?”
“Swear that you will return my magics and take me on as an apprentice when we return with the map.”
A bark of laughter nearly doubled the old wizard over. “You? My apprentice?” He guffawed.
“Think, Carolus, the business you are undertaking is no small task. The might of the Empire will come crashing down on you and even a mage of your caliber may not come out alive in such a fight. You need someone to learn and preserve your secrets.”
After a few more chortles, Carolus straightened, stroking his bear once more. “I’ll consider it,” He said, looking at the younger wizard sternly, “But you will have to earn that right and make sure I am delivered the map. Now, what do the Dolinthamiri know about the Afflicted?”
“Some of the survivors in the Empire have ‘awoken’ as you put it, revealing that they can somehow do things only otherwise achieved by magic. The priests have stirred up a hysteria that they are dammed, and risk re-igniting the plague. As such, there is a standing bounty for anyone who can bring in someone with Affliction Scars that demonstrates strange abilities. The Dolinthamiri have…found some of these individuals, but like I said, they have not been able to uncover the mechanism of their apparent magic as you seem to have done.”
“Hmm, that is troubling,” Carolus muttered.
“Not to interrupt, but if I’m to be diving into and old burial tomb, I’d like to get underway,” I said, drawing the wizard back from his intense contemplation.
“Oh, yes, of course. And you said you would be accompanying them, correct, Loken?”
The younger mage nodded, “I have studied tales of the tomb for months, if any can help guide you through safely, it is me.”
“Then get what you’ll need, and I’ll fetch the others. Meet us at the northern gate,” I said, ducking to leave the room.
I was never enthused when I had to listen to Carolus droll on and on about matters of magic or politics, but I sensed that adding another learned man to the conversation would make it doubly dreadful if not curbed early.
The other matter that weighed on me was the prospect of taking the other Afflicted along. I had heard tales of the deadly traps that often accompanied ancient tombs and taking five individuals who didn’t know how to wield the power they were given—it didn’t bode well.
My first stope was my room, where I woke Kipp and ordered him to get some supplies, my armor and my halberd and meet me at the gate with horses. Next, I went to the rooms of the five: Hynren, Bevirand, Frela, The Boy, and Vei, telling them to gather their things and meet up with the others.