Star Mage (Book 5) (5 page)

Beyond those instructions the voices were unclear, instead showing him images of a vast body of water seated near a range of mountains.
Naemarians thrive in ancient water,
the voices chanted to him in unison,
as deep as the planet, and as old as the stars
. He realized they were taking him to drink once again from a spring where they thrived. The idea of regaining their power and knowledge both excited and terrified him at the same time.

Used to traveling at dragon speed, Nikulo found the slow life of the caravan tedious, and with the excess amount of free time he was left with many moments to contemplate his time back on Vellia. He wished he was able to remember the flying spell he’d cast from the Naemarian well of knowledge. But other than the voices commanding him on, they seemed unable to grant him powers or expertise.
They’re only able to inflict horrific pain and mind-numbing words of repetition.
He’d trade his soul for a magic flying carpet.

He’d given up on trying to make conversation with the slaves, finding their terse, obedient responses tiresome. The caravan owner’s wife was intoxicatingly beautiful, and her lissome figure provided adequate entertainment along the way. Once, in a fit of rapturous generosity, he had released the mental bond that held her will to his, and found a furious shriek spurting from her sweet mouth. He restored the bond and quickly bored of her beatific compliance.

Now the young woman stared euphorically at him, her doll-like eyes batting in rapt fascination in response to his noxious release of gas. “Gods, girl, you smile quite prettily after I fart. Could it conjure some fond memory in that simple mind of yours? Not a thought? How about you tell me your name?”

The girl was perhaps a year his senior, and no doubt taken as a wife in Naru in exchange for vows of protection.
Little good the caravan owner’s massive muscles did her
, Nikulo mused. He studied as she struggled to express herself through the haze of his mental mastery. The crystal from Ghaelstrom provided him with vast quantities of power to sustain a spell that would have quickly tired him.
What will I do when I sleep?
he wondered. Something had to be done to encourage her acceptance of the fate she found herself living.

“My name is Callith,” the girl said, her mouth moving as if in a great struggle.

“It’s a pleasure to know your name, Callith. What do you say we call a truce and not have you scream when I release the magic from your mind? Would you be open to a bargain? How about I promise to allow your freedom when we arrive in Ursula? By owning such a large and prosperous caravan you could easily find another strong, horrible husband. Agreed?”

Her face darkened as his words seemed to sink down deep into the distant recesses of her brain. She nodded, the left side of her face twitching and marring her otherwise beautiful self. He gradually released the spell over her mind and winced, covering his ears as the scream came loud and swift from her mouth. Her eyes clenched shut as if refusing to glimpse some horror, and they opened again as if her mind played the image of the blood gushing from her handsome husband’s throat. Soon she broke into sobbing, great convulsions wracking her fine figure in a fit of wretched beauty.

 
He distanced himself from her in preparation of a flurry of nails trying to claw at his face. None came and the sobs and tears degraded into a low, pitiful moaning, and she chewed the name of her dead husband in her mouth like a bitter herb. The scene was so touching that for a moment Nikulo felt a pang of guilt for causing the man to slit his own throat.
 

The guilt failed to last long as the ale swirling in his belly washed it all away. His mind and his morals told him he shouldn’t slay innocent people like that, but then again, from his journey to the Underworld he knew that especially the innocent suffered the most.
I’ll be joining you in hell,
Nikulo told the dead man and found a mug and raised it in respect to the wife’s husband.
You should have listened when I asked you to relinquish the caravan and walk back to Naru. Would have extended your miserable life for a while.
At least until the Jiserians returned to destroyed and dominate Naru once again.

Callith brought a slender hand across her tearful eyes and fixed a gaze on the mug of ale in Nikulo’s grip.

“You want some of this, love?” He rummaged around in the back and found another mug, filling it from a barrel jostling about under the wagon’s bouncy ride. She accepted the mug and tossed back her head and drank and drank until the glistening foam trailed down her pretty cheeks.
 

“Married in a day and widowed on the next day,” Callith said, her voice raspy from all the screaming she’d released from her system. “He performed his duty with me all drunk and sloppy, and you finished where he left off, with a great deal more exuberance. I’m not sure what to think of it all…”

Nikulo grunted at the girl’s wit. “I’m sorry your husband had to die.” He found his eyes settling on the ground as he spoke. “He insisted on going to Ostreva and I have urgent business in Ursula. Your husband left me with no other option.”

The girl sniffed and spoke with cutting tones, “I have no husband now. I’ve cried my just due tears for the man and have nothing left for him. Did you really mean your vow? Or do I have you to expect you as my new husband?”

He grimaced at the girl’s bluntness. But her words spoke of her resilience and strength. “My vow holds true. When we arrive in Ursula the caravan is all yours. You are free to sell the wagons and goods and slaves, or find another man to lead your trading caravan. Suit yourself…”

 
“You’re one of the heroes of Naru?” Callith’s fiery hair danced as she shook her head in sudden stunned recognition. “Your friend Talis saved us from the plague that inflected our minds. I remember the crowds cheering in a chorus of laughter and singing songs to the gods. You were there in the background but your friend pulled you up to the front and raised your hand in victory. I remember your face now. You seemed so reluctant and resistant, and there was this pain that showed around your eyes as a wince. It’s strange, I only remembered you just now.”

“Perhaps because the pain is all gone now that I’ve left Naru.” Nikulo filled his mug again and took another sip, scanning the shimmering sands that stretched across the horizon. “It’s a curse to be famous and unable to disappear from curious eyes, though not as much as the curse that afflicts my mind.”

“What happened to you? There were these rumors circling the city that you left through a portal. Some say you went to the Underworld, and others say you visited another world.”

“Both true, though the trip to the Underworld happened long before we left this world—twice mind you, once to Haldrax and once to Vellia, the world of dragons and light.”

A wry smile creased her full lips. “Now you’re jesting with me. There’s no such thing as dragons, everyone knows that.”

“True enough for this planet. I’ve traveled far and wide across the world, to the northlands and Khael and over the Melovian Sea to the Island of Lorello. And in all my travels on this world I’ve never once encountered a dragon. Except of course if you count my friend Talis as a dragon, since he can change shape into one.”

She laughed mirthfully at his words and her face flowered fetchingly and free for the first time. He admired her beauty and found himself staring at her blue, crystalline eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. She blushed and turned away to study the slaves trudging along in the sand.

“Why do you tease me with tall tales and your endless longing stares?” Her expression was one of forced annoyance, but her parted lips and expectant eyes told him another story.

He came closer and took her mug, refilling it with a grunt of satisfaction. “You’ve not enough ale in you to believe all the tales I hold in my mind. Drink more and let us enjoy the long ride. And you can tell me why you haven’t tried to kill me.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, her face thoughtful and wicked. “You haven’t gone to sleep yet.”

Talis gazed at the Village of Farin from the foothills overlooking the stone houses and wooden fences holding countless sheep and goats. Riders wheeled their horses around the flocks, driving them home for the night. They had flown all day and Talis tried to keep the worry and doubts from his mind, instead staring at the endless shifting desert sands and allowing the wind to push away his thoughts. Master Goleth had advised him to land far away from villager eyes, and they’d trekked for an hour down the mountain until the sun sank low beneath the ridgeline. Talis sensed something suspicious down in the village, and found his shoulders tensing as they neared the outskirts.

“Let me talk with them first,” advised Master Goleth, his rugged face rigid as he squinted at the approaching riders. “And when they interrogate you, stay calm and answer their questions without flourish.”

Interrogate us?
Talis didn’t like the idea of walking into a trap. He clenched his jaw as the riders circled around them, their eyes harsh and mistrustful. They barely glanced at Master Goleth, and instead focused their attention on Mara.

“Who’s the little tart, Master Goleth? I thought you swore to never take a female apprentice?” one of the riders said, his mean, chiseled face ogling Mara as he rode around them.
 

“My apprentices are none of your concern, Jahkel. We had a long and tiresome trip and Lord Aurellia has asked me return with these two. You will treat them with the upmost respect.”

“You will go to hell, where you belong,
Builder.
All your buildings have burned and disintegrated back to dust. We’ve had enough of your promises of power and aid for Farin…we don’t believe you anymore.”

Master Goleth snapped a finger and two hands made of sand surged up from the ground and seized the front legs of the horse Jahkel was riding. The poor creature whinnied and bolted and sent the man crashing to the earth in a bone-snapping thump.

The Builder caused the sandstone hands to disintegrate and calmly approached the fallen man. His glance at the moaning and cursing Jahkel was brief, and he turned a challenging stare at the other riders.

“My how the minions turn sour like two-day old milk.” The riders retreated from the Builder, their eyes flared in fear. “Our Lord Aurellia leaves on a mission and the hierarchy is already in disarray? Speak, minions! Tell me what has transpired in the empire since I’ve left.”

A bulky man in stained leather pants opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the Builder aimed a finger at him. “Go on, Biltis, speak. I won’t harm you.”

“Ishur is in chaos, Master Goleth.” The man glanced from the Builder to the tense faces of his fellow riders, as if uncertain who would hurt him the most. “The various magical Orders have declared war on each other, with the Order of Rezel allying itself with the Order of the Dead.

Necromancers
, Talis thought, and found a scowl forming on his face. Master Goleth swiveled around and studied his expression. Talis bowed his head in submission to the Builder.

 
“And Emperor Ghaalis? Is that fat drunk still whoring in Carvina?”

“The finest red wine in the capitol still flows freely, Master Builder.” Biltis decided to take a stern tone and trotted closer to Goleth.

“I see, that is most unfortunate.” The way the Builder said the words Talis was unsure if he was displeased that the Emperor still lived or that he was still drunk. “And now for the real question, which I’m sure you traitors are
most
eager to answer. Where are my wife and children?”

An ill-timed grunt of pain from the prostrated Jahkel caused Master Goleth to whirl around and fix a furious gaze on him. “You know of something, traitor? I trusted too many of you with my secret, thinking my family safe here from the frightfulness of our fetid empire. Speak quickly or discover how the desert can so easily swallow you up.”

Jahkel’s defiant eyes met Goleth’s as his mouth trembled open and he spit stupidly at the Builder. Master Goleth flourished his hands in anger and the sand opened up underneath the screaming man and devoured his body in an instant. Mara let out a horrified yelp and seized Talis’s arm as Jahkel was engulfed by the desert.

“I do not believe him the last traitor in our midst. Where are my allies and closest companions? The friends and families faithful to me over these long and troubled years. While the Empire saw war and bloodshed and famine, the Village of Farin enjoyed peace and prosperity and protection. You, Master Waynor? You knew of my family and had a cousin who’d joined the Order of the Dead. Did you spill my secret?”

The old, leather-skinned man leapt off his horse and the wind whipped up around his white robe as he locked tired eyes on Master Goleth. “Those of the Order of Rezel demanded answers to their questions. You were gone and we could not refuse. Call us traitorous, but if you were given the question by your masters, what would you have done? You answered Lord Aurellia’s call to venture through the portal and help fight his war for him off on that other world. Would you have dared say no to him?”