Shadow Mage (Blacklight Chronicles) (4 page)

“A whirlwind…” Mistress Cavares tapped her head several times. “Have you studied Wind Magic?”

Talis shook his head.

“Good, good! I can teach you something new, and it will be with runes. Excellent.” She drew four characters on the sand. Talis released his breath and smiled to himself. Three of characters were new, and he was pretty sure that those were the three missing characters he needed. Maybe they finally had a chance to master the portal spell.

“These two characters are from the First Kingdom, Velletrix. A strong wind and to churn with great force. These other two characters are from the Third Kingdom, Praellian. To strike and to propel forward. The combination of these four characters will create a rune of a specific nature, yet less powerful than a two-character rune. A good starting place for Wind Magic. Let me teach you.”

She extended her palm towards a candle set along the wall. A burst of wind leapt out and consumed the flame. “Now you try it. Remember the last time you felt the wind striking your skin. Focus on the power flowing from your palm.”

Talis pressed out his hand and concentrated on the feeling of the wind. The candle sputtered and wavered, but he failed to extinguish it.

“Try again. Practice until you can blow out the candle from across the room. And don’t go creating a storm inside my workshop, either.” She grinned at him.

After a half hour of practice, Talis had mastered the spell and could focus the wind on one spot, blowing out the candle in the process. Mistress Cavares nodded in approval after he succeeded several times.

“Shall we go for a walk outside the city and test our little rune?”

Talis found a devious smile spreading slowly across his face. A trip outside was just the thing he needed.
 

The forest outside the city was alive with wavering shadows. The wind had picked up, spreading rumors of a coming storm. Talis followed Mistress Cavares as she marched over boulders and fallen logs, her determination strong to find the right spot.
 

“This will do.” Her gaze passed across a gentle meadow, protected by a stand of camphor trees.

“Should I place the rune here?”

“Not quite yet… First we need to prepare the stage. Can you go and gather four heavy sticks and several branches? We’ll be building a trap.”

Talis grinned as he bounded off towards the forest, searching for appropriate sticks to make a “trap.” What did she mean by a trap anyways? Were they going to set the rune and try to catch an animal?

“Will these do?” Talis dragged four thick sticks and several leafy branches.

“Rather nicely…” Mistress Cavares glanced at him. “We’re not trying to trap an animal, if that’s what you’re thinking. My vows prevent me from harming innocent creatures.”

“Then what are we trapping?”

Mistress Cavares opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it and smiled hideously. “You’re trying to trick me…I see your game.”

“Why would I do that? I simply want to know—”

“Build,” she interrupted, “a four-sided trap, for the four directions, and cover three sides with the branches you’ve gathered. Leave the north-facing side open.”

Talis grunted, but grabbed the sticks and started assembling a four-cornered pyramid. He tied the top with some vines, and placed the branches snug against the three sides. After he finished, he stood and inspected his work.

“Interesting construction…a pyramid.” Mistress Cavares circled his creation, and bent down to peer inside. “Yes, this will work. Now place the rune in the absolute center of your trap… No, you’ll need a stick to measure precisely. Go get one.”

He could tell from her eyes that she was serious, so he held his sigh until he reached the forest’s edge. Why did she always have to be so exact in everything? He thought this would be a fun outing in the swamplands, but instead it was just another one of her
lessons
.
 

But then he noticed something. From his vantage point he realized that the placement of the trap was also precise. It was exactly in the center of the meadow. Now he was really curious. What was she up to?

When he found a stick straight enough to measure lengths, he raced back to the trap.

“That will do.” Mistress Cavares motioned Talis towards his construction.

Talis measured the trap twice, trying his best to locate the center. “Can I place the rune now?”

Mistress Cavares wagged her head back and forth. “We must ask the wind first.” She gazed at the sky, pressed her fingertips against her temples, and started chanting strange words in a staccato rhythm. Soon a dust-devil formed in the sky. The air smelled suddenly of spring blossoms and rain. The grey whirlwind moved slowly towards them, and finally settled over the trap.
 

The corners of Mistress Cavares’s mouth curled up into a smile. “See? The wind listened to wisdom. And we, mortal servants of the gods, obey. Now you must sing praises to the gods.”

“Sing?” Talis frowned, and glanced around as if expecting an audience. “Which gods?”

“All of them, foolish one. Do you want to make a god jealous? Start a war? Sing, boy, sing!”

Talis felt himself wither at her piercing stare. He cleared his throat and raised his eyes to the heavens. He remembered songs his mother had sung to him as a child, songs of love, songs of revenge, songs of the gods. His voice was clear and strong as he sang the words. He sang every song he knew, not missing any of the gods.
 

When he finished, a feeling of calm and strength possessed him. The storm had melted away and the meadow was strangely quiet. Shadows that had once belonged to trees on the forest’s edge began stretching towards the trap from all corners. Talis stepped back in fear as the unnatural shadows moved closer and closer, bending in angles that defied the path of light. Defied the laws of nature. This couldn’t be happening.

Mistress Cavares cackled softly as she stretched her hands towards the trap. Was she a dark sorcerer? Talis glanced nervously at the deep magenta mist forming in the air around her fingertips. Then swirls of that mist shot out in streams towards the empty nest of the trap he had built. An inky-blackness consumed the center of his construction, blacker moment by moment as the shadows poured inside.
 

The world was going insane. The trees around the meadow bent at odd angles, twisted and were made to bow low by some strange force. The trap glowed around the outside with that same magenta mist. Talis could hear a moaning sound like from the mouth of a slave bearing a crushing burden.
 

“Dare you venture forward and place the rune?” Mistress Cavares was standing as if she had lost all sight. Her eyes had flipped upwards so only the whites showed.
 

Talis wanted to run and leave this madness, but he didn’t know if he could escape unharmed. The air sparked with electricity as if he was standing atop a hill being assaulted by lightning. The gods were here. Dark and light, trickster and healer.

“If you flee, the gods will slay you.” Mistress Cavares stared at him with those hideous eyes.

“I will obey the gods.” They came here for a purpose. Whatever this was must be an illusion. Would it fade away once he positioned the rune and cast the binding spell? So he strode forward and kneeled down in front of the trap, trying to avoid staring inside the blackness. When he put the rune inside, his hands disappeared. How could he see to properly position the rune? His fingertips could feel disease and rot and death.
 

“You must enter…use your power and find the right placement for the rune.”
 

Talis glanced at Mistress Cavares, hoping to find something in her expression that might tell him this was all a horrible idea. But she was like the cold on a winter’s morning. He turned back to the trap, and crawled inside, ignoring the feeling of terror slithering under his skin. The air was burning hot. As he fumbled around in the dark, his hands sensed a chill. He couldn’t answer how he knew it, but this was the right spot.
 

He placed the rune and cast the spell. The rune flashed brilliant golden light, and sucked in the black mist. The characters inscribed on the rune shone for a moment, then the rune vaporized into ash and the trap collapsed around him.

“Quickly, retreat,” Mistress Cavares said. Her eyes had gone back to normal, and her face now held a look of worry. “I may make a runemaster out of you yet…if this succeeds.”

“But what was all that about?”

Mistress Cavares put a finger to her lips to quiet him. “We must wait for the thing that must come to arrive.” She turned and led Talis over to duck behind an old, mossy log.

After many minutes of waiting, Talis heard the beating of hooves in the forest. A stag tall and proud. The animal pranced across the meadow.
Don’t let it be this beautiful creature,
Talis prayed. The stag looked spooked and fearful. It darted around, then stopped and perked up its ears. A paw dug into the soft earth.
 

Shouts and the whinnying of horses and baying of hounds sent the stag bounding off into the opposite forest. Talis lifted himself up to see who it was, but Mistress Cavares held him back.
 

“Don’t interfere with the hand of fate,” she whispered.
 

“But what if someone is injured by the magical ward?”
 

Mistress Cavares raised an eyebrow. “Or much worse…” Talis glared at her, but she remained unaffected, and returned to stare across the meadow.

Soon the hounds came, slobbering and sniffing and barking in excitement. They caught the stag’s scent and gave chase.
 

“Now comes the interesting part.” Mistress Cavares chuckled.

Was she crazy? Talis glanced at the look of humor and bland determination in her eyes. She truly didn’t care if someone died or was injured because of the rune he had cast. Well he cared. He stood, shaking off her hand from his arm, and ran towards the sound of horses galloping in the forest.

“Sit down, you fool!” shouted Mistress Cavares. “Would you rather save a human life or invoke the anger of the gods?” Her voice faded as Talis widened the distance between her and the hunters.

Three horses fled the forest and burst across the meadow. Another nearly ran Talis over despite his shouts and hand waving. The banners. They were the guardsmen of House Lei. Mara’s family. Talis felt a cold sweat wash down his back. He had to warn them and keep them away from the magical ward.

“Get out of the way!” shouted a guardsman. He aimed his bow at Talis. “Can’t you see we’re on the hunt?”

“Over here!” Another guardsman on the edge of the opposite forest waved his banner. “The hounds have got the scent.”

“There’s danger here,” Talis yelled, but the guardsmen had already bolted off towards the hounds.
 

The thundering of more hoofbeats sounded behind him. He whirled around just in time to duck. A massive destrier draped in purple silk leapt over him and landed directly in the path of the ward.

Talis shouted at the rider to stop but his voice was drowned out by the avalanche of war horses all around him. The destrier galloped defiantly into the center of the meadow, rider wielding a great horn bow. Talis raised his hands as if to cast a spell. What could he do to stop him?

But there was nothing to do. One second the destrier barreled forward, and the next a purple-black mist enveloped the rider and horse whole. Millions of shadow filaments exploded across the meadow, spreading like a flood of terrorized spiders.

The man dressed in ornate leather armor catapulted from his destrier and shot into the air, his legs and arms flapping about. He slammed headfirst onto the unforgiving earth. If the body had been a doll, the head would have popped off. Instead a hideous
crack
echoed across the meadow, and cries were heard from the guardsmen circling their horses in confusion.

Talis wanted to move but found his legs were made of lead. His jaw dropped open, gaping at the wreck of a man splayed out, limbs twisted in impossible directions. The man’s face remained untouched other than the look of utter shock in his eyes.

Mara’s uncle. Her father’s youngest brother. Spoiled to the core, insolent and a black spot on the Lei family name. He’d made a habit of surrounding himself with brawlers, gamblers, liars, and cheats. Ralakh Lei’s guardsmen now rushed to their master’s body, fists pounding the earth. They grabbed their hair, and aimed curses at the gods.

Mistress Cavares’s face was colorless as she stared at the broken figure. Did she still trust the fate of the gods? A cruel fate indeed. “This will not do,” she mumbled.

“Not do?” Talis flared his arms in frustration. “A royal has been slain. At least I tried to warn him.”

“
Warn
?” A guardsman’s low, raspy voice spilled across the meadow. “Warn him of what?”

He was a giant brute of a man, and his eyes held a vile, murderous gleam that made Talis step back in fear.