The Reluctant Mage: Book One in the Zandar Series (2 page)

Marko woke up the next morning in a daze. Last night the butcher’s wife had come by to console Marko and his mother.  Her husband had died of the pox only six months ago, and she had learned enough about the business to keep the shop open.

“You have to be strong, Danira,” she said. “Now’s the time for grieving, but you will have to think about your future soon.”

“It’s not fair!” his mother demanded. “Boris survived countless battles fighting for the Emperor. He earned his stipend. He should not have gone out and fought those soldiers. He should be sitting with me right now…..”

“Look at me, Danira. Boris fought last night to protect you, Marko and the village as much as the Emperor. He loved this village as much as anyone, even though he was not born here. Why, I even heard he gave a discount on his swords to the garrison. He did what every other man in the village did: fight to protect their homes.”

The two of them talked long into the night. Marko spent most of the night lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling. How could his papa be gone just like that? Why couldn’t he just surrender when he knew there were too many soldiers attacking the village? It felt like a piece of Marko was gone.

Marko started the next day like he always did, starting the forge fire for this papa. He suddenly remembered last night and began crying. “That’s alright Marko,” his mother said. “Come inside and break your fast.”

Marko spent the morning listening to his mother tell stories about Papa. Several of them, like the details about papa’s battles, were new to him. “You have to understand, Marko that your papa was driven by his convictions. He believed in the Emperor and what he was accomplishing for Zandar. The days before Emperor Rau came to power were terrible. The plague had swept through most of the countryside and thousands died. The King’s men were nowhere to be found. Then, Governor Rau pleaded with the King for priests and food, but the King ignored us.”

“When the Governor seceded from the Kingdom, it was to improve the conditions for all of us. The regional governors pleaded that he declare himself Emperor so that he could enforce change. I even heard he was reluctant to become an Emperor, because he saw the corruption that surrounded the King. My Boris was the first soldier in his Company to join the Emperor. Most of his fellow soldiers in the Eagle Regiment followed when they heard that the Hero of Ulma Pass had joined with Emperor Rau. With the exception of the officers and mage priests, most of the Regiment was from the West anyway. They saw how peasants and merchants were taxed to pay for the extravagance of Kastav City.”

Eventually the conversation turned towards their future. After papa’s funeral and that of the other villagers that fell during the battle was over, what would they do? How would they survive? They spent all of their dinner and most of the night discussing their future.

They agreed their best course of action was to travel down the coast to live with his Uncle Kris. Uncle Kris was the only living relative Marko had. He was told his uncle made a modest living as an independent fisherman. He did not work through the guild. In fact, Marko did not know how or if his uncle sold his catch at all.

They spent the next day packing and giving away items they no longer needed. The headman of the village agreed to sell the house and smithy for them, but he needed to learn the new rules of trade. He was now a headman for the King, not the Emperor. That is, as long as he wasn’t replaced. He would first have to establish the existing ownership via a recorded deed in Kastav City before he could transfer the property. Along with the deed was a signed declaration from Marko’s mother that she agreed to be a subject of the King (again). All symbols of the Empire needed to be burned. The garrison commander ordered all paintings of Emperor Rau be piled in the middle of the village, and then burned. Marko made sure to hide his father’s sash and old badge of rank under a floor board in his room. He would keep them forever.

The Headman told his mother that he should be able to sell the property. He was told by the occupying garrison sergeant that the Kastav Regional Governor would be sending exiles to Bakar shortly and that the property could be sold at a fair price. The Governor, he was assured, wanted the small village to grow so that it could afford a regular garrison paid for, of course, by the taxes of its citizens.

Marko’s father only owned a small pull cart that he hitched to his mule when he needed to pick up supplies. By third day, he helped his mother fill the cart with their personal possessions. There was more than one difficult parting of items for which they knew they did not have room. Marko was relieved when Sako turned up at his house just before they left.

“Where have you been? I looked everywhere for you after the battle.” Marko said.

“I am so sorry to hear about your father, Marko. Pa and I were at Bresnr’s lumber mill when the Kastav soldiers attacked. We just got back this morning. If there is anything we can do to help you and your Ma, let us know,” said Sako.

“Thanks. I still can’t believe Papa is gone. I am expecting him to yell for me to help him in the forge at anytime.  We are leaving to go to Uncle Kris’s house to live. Well, it’s actually more like a hut than a house but it’s the only choice we have. We can’t work the forge and there isn’t any work here for Ma. She used to be a seamstress apprentice years ago when she lived in Trojic, but there is no business for that here now.”

“You have talked about your Uncle before but he never visits. How long is your trip? When will we play pirates again? Things got to get back to normal, right?”

“Ma said it will take us a week to travel to Uncle Kris. She said that we just follow the coast road and we’ll eventually find him. I guess he is something like a hermit. I am more worried about the Kastav troops. We’ll be officially travelling through the new border. Ma said that there won’t likely be troops on the little road, but she said we have to be careful.  I guess the King’s laws state that all peasants need travel documents, since we are not registered merchants. That is one of the reasons we are leaving so soon. As soon as the Kastav Regional Governor delivers us the Codex of Laws, we won’t be able to leave. Not to mention the Royal Priests. The Headman said that he was told all new conquests get “visited” by the priesthood. I don’t want to be around for that.”

“As far as playing pirates again…I don’t think things will ever be the same Sako. Ma said that I need to grow up and be a man now. She said that Kastav ended my childhood. I guess they’re right. Since losing my papa, nothing feels the same.”

“Ya, I guess it has all changed. I am almost sixteen. There is no Imperial Navy for us anymore. I don’t want be in the King’s Navy. Can you image me fighting my brother? Pa told me that he will arrange for me to apprentice to Old Mukir at the bakery. He said that if I am recognized by the Guild out of Kastav City, then the Army can’t sic the impress men on me.” 

“And don’t worry about priests, Marko. My dad said that as long as you keep your head down and don’t cause trouble, they leave you alone. He said that the mandatory tithing was the only thing to be worried about.”

Shortly after Marko parting with this friend, several neighbors came by to wish the Kuniches a safe trip. They left early afternoon so that they would not look suspicious to the guards. People were starting to travel in and out of Bakar, but no one had reason to travel at night.

They didn’t see anyone on the road all afternoon. In fact, it was almost like the animals were gone too.  There were signs of soldiers passing through everywhere. Discarded rations, bits of solder’s kits and burnt out campfires were common. They chose a spot to camp well off the road in a heavily wooded area. Marko was allowed to build a small fire so that they could cook some venison they brought along.

“How are we going to get by at Uncle Kris’ place?” said Marko to his mother. “Papa said he was a hermit that lived in a hut by himself. If he can barely support himself, how are we going to get by?”

“My brother might live by himself, but that does not mean he is poor. Kris was once a scholar at the Universite. Let’s just say that he is on sabbatical.”

“He taught at the mage academy? But I thought only mages attended there.”

“Not all students become mages and certainly not all professors use magic,” she said. “I believe Kris’ vocation dealt with the historical side of magic. Anyway, that is a story for him to tell, especially since he knows it and I am guessing at this point,” his mother smiled.

The next few days was thankfully uneventful. Marko continued to listen to stories about his papa. He was amazed at what he was able to learn about him only after he was dead. He had seen all the scars on his papa’s body while working around the forge. Now his mother was telling him all the stories about how his father acquired the collection. They began each morning early. Marko still had time to practice his sword work. When he practiced, he felt calm and focused. He was able to put the attack out of his mind. Now he understood why his father chose the army.

After the fifth day, his mother said that they were almost there. Marko looked around and did not see a hut. In fact he had not seen anything for days except for a rutted, muddy road rocky hills and patches of fir trees.

“Not funny, Ma. There is nothing here but us and some moldy rocks.”

“Is that so?” came a voice from behind Marko.

Marko spun around and held up his practice sword (the troops had confiscated all steel weapons). “Who’s there? Show yourself!” he yelled.

“With pleasure,” a man smirked as he slowly walked around a nearby tree. “How are you Danira? I can only assume this is young Marko, but where is Boris?”

“Hello Kris.” Marko’s mother said. “I am afraid we are all that is left. Boris was killed by Kastav troops when they raided Bakar. We had nowhere else to go. All we have is what is in this cart and on our backs.”

The man, who Marko now knew was his uncle, changed expressions. “I am terribly sorry to hear that, Danira. I have seen more activity from the Emperor’s troops lately. I guessed that Kastav was making a new push into our lands. Follow me and I will show you the rest of the way to my home. We need to move quickly to get there by nightfall.”

Marko watched his Uncle as they made their way along a winding animal path that was barely wide enough for their small kart. He did not look like his idea of a professor, that was for sure. His uncle was over six feet tall and was built more like a laborer than a man who spent this time reading books. His uncle also carried the biggest longbow he had ever seen. It seemed to be made out of oak, but the entire surface was black.

“How much longer, Uncle Kris?” said Marko.

“We are almost there young one. Just around that bend up ahead.”

They had been travelling gradually upward towards the Tarn mountain range. Marko saw his uncle walk right up to a copse of fir trees that were at least twenty yards high. He didn’t stop but walked right through them as if they were not there. His mother looked over her shoulder at her son, smiled and walked right through too.

“Come on Marko,” said the voice of her mother with a little laugh.

Marko grabbed the rope tied to his mule and tentatively reached out to the nearest tree. “Holy Maker!” he shouted as his hand went right through the tree as if it was not there. Marko began walking the mule slowly through the “trees” and found himself in front of a large cave entrance. Well, actually, it looked more like an entrance to a building that was built into the face of the large hill. There was an arch over the opening at least ten meters high with some kind of language carved into it that Marko had never seen.

He lowered his eyes to his uncle who was looking at him with a smile. “Welcome to Tarnith Mor.”

“What is this place, how did we just walk through those trees...and I thought you caught fish for a living?”

“Those are short questions but require long answers. Let’s just say for now that this place is very old, and it is best if others thought fishing was my full time job. Now let’s get you inside. I can answer all your questions over dinner.”

After tying up his mule, Marko and the others brought their first load of personal effects into the cave\building. Marko nearly dropped his crate as soon as he stepped inside. He entered a chamber at least fifty meters wide by one hundred long. He looked up at a domed ceiling that was at least four stories tall. But the size of the chamber was less impressive than what he saw inside.

There were at least twenty statues that looked to be carved out of the cave along each wall. No two seemed to be alike; there were men and women, warriors and figures in long, flowing robes. The detail of the statues was amazing. These were obviously carved based upon people that lived long ago. No sculptor could have imagined someone with that kind of detail.

Marko followed his uncle and mother down a wide hallway that had rooms on either side. The wood doors must have rotted away years ago as each room was completely open to the hallway. At the end of the hallway, all three stopped at a staircase carved into the wall.

“There are plenty of rooms on the upstairs floor. Pick anyone you want. I am afraid there are no beds in them, but I have several straw mattresses that are comfortable enough. The dining hall and work spaces are downstairs. I will go down now and prepare dinner. Come down when you are ready.”

Marko followed his mother up the winding stairs until they ended on a slate platform. They saw another arched dome that led to another, shorter hallway. “You take that one Marko. There is a mattress in there.”

Marko walked into a spacious bedroom. It had a parlor at least ten meters square with an opening in the back. He walked through the parlor to a modest sized bedroom. There was a mattress on the floor and a small table with a wash basin on top. Marko dropped his pack of clothes in the closet and looked around his room. Although the walls were stone, they were nearly perfectly smooth. He also noticed fine inscriptions and images on all the walls. Some had the same strange writing he saw at the entrance to the building and some were pictures of people and animals. He was drawn to one picture in particular in the parlor. It was a picture of a city, he had no doubt of that, but the city was immense. Marko had heard about Zandar and Kastav Cities, but they could not compare with the scale of this city.

Each building seemed to be at least ten stories tall. They all had windows and many had balconies spanning every floor. He noticed that there were many people carved in the cityscape. They were walking or riding carriages, just going about their business. What drew his attention were the clothes they wore. Marko had never seen anyone wear clothes like those. Both men and women had long robes. He had never thought robes were very practical, especially in the harsh winters in Bakar. The collars were high and stiff.

He heard footsteps outside his room and soon saw his mother peek in. “You ready Marko? I can use a good meal after that trip.”

“I am ready, but I wanted to show you this carving on my wall.”

“That looks a lot like the one in my room, but this city is much larger. Let’s ask Kris what he knows about the history of this place. I was only here once before, but we never come up to this floor. Back then, the stairway was blocked. Kris has been busy these past few years.”

Marko followed his mother down the stairs all the way to the bottom floor. Like the other floors, there was an arch before a long hallway. This hallway was not completely cleared out however. There were still some large stones and rubble along the walls. Marko figured that there must be some rooms still blocked by the stones.

He saw lights flickering at the back of the hallway as he and his mother navigated the hall. At the end of the hall they entered a large room at least thirty meters square. There were no statues in this room but there were several slate slabs sitting on top of stone blocks.

Uncle Kris was sitting at one of the tables that had several candles on it along with plates of food. “Welcome to the dining hall, such as it is. I have a roasted chicken for us and boiled potatoes. I am afraid my wine supply is all gone Danira. We’ll just have to drink water with young Marko here.”

After smelling the food Marko realized he was famished. He tore into his meal and only halfheartedly listed to their conversation. They mostly talked about the Kastav attack and what the Empire’s response would be to the invasion. Uncle Kris was confident that the Emperor would not tolerate the occupation of Bakar and would move troops in to retake the village.

As the conversation continued, Marko studied the dining hall. The few candles in the room cast long shadows but he was able to see most of the room. He noticed that the walls had similar inscriptions and pictures as his room. There were scenes of cities like he had seen before, but new images appeared to him in the dim room. One wall was completely covered with a battle scene. The scope of the battle was immense. He guessed that there were thousands of soldiers etched in the wall on both sides of the battle. Marko got up from his seat to study the battle more closely. The soldiers reminded him of Imperial infantry. The uniforms looked a little different but they were armed with the familiar halberds, pikes and short swords.  He noticed what seemed to be battalions of cavalry. His father often told him about the use of cavalry on the battlefield, and it seemed like both sides were deploying them to sweep around each army’s flank. He could not believe the detail. Each cavalryman man had a different expression on his face.

What grabbed Marko’s attention were the men and women wearing robes behind the lines of each army. They looked like the same people who were depicted in his room. Some of the people looked like they were shouting orders and pointing at enemy positions. A few though had symbols above their outstretched hands. In front of them whole companies of enemy troops were laying on the ground or being thrown through the air. He even saw a squad of infantry that looked like they were on fire. The images were so lifelike that he could see the tortured pain on their faces as the fire consumed them. He had to look away.

“War is not a pretty sight, is it?” said his Uncle as he walked up behind Marko.

“I can’t believe the imagination of the person who carved this battle. It looks so lifelike as if he really happened.”

“That’s because it did m’boy. Come on over to the table. It is time you learned about this place and your heritage.”