Fractures, page 7
part #1 of Ledgers of a Dark Mage Series
They fixed themselves onto the branches of the surrounding trees and their pale light grew until it swathed the immediate vicinity in a silvery glow.
Cedrik noticed Thaleon’s expression of wonder and pat his shoulder with a smile. “They are called Mage Lamps. A very useful spell, especially on the road.”
The youngest of the soldiers, the one with a boyish freckled face and a mop of dark brown curls, crouched over the stacked wood with flint and stone. He tried again and again but the fire won’t catch—the morning rain had left everything damp.
“Let me,” said Laurits as he came to stand next to the young man.
The soldier moved aside as the mage drew a bit of magic and directed it over the wood, settling the glowing threads over the damp surface. Water beaded off the wood and lifted into the air, leaving the whole stack parched dry.
Laurits’ magic twisted and fire erupted from the stack, burning intensely as if it had been lit hours ago. The gathered water lowered to the ground and disappeared as Laurits winked out the Mage Lamps with a wave of a hand, their light made redundant by the fiery glow of the flames.
Thaleon followed Cedrik to the fire and sat next to its pleasant warmth as the soldiers brought over portions of dried meat, fruit and bread from the carriage. Laurits came over to hand Cedrik a waterskin and the nobleman peered up at the youth with concerned eyes.
“You aren’t planning on setting wards, are you?”
“I am,” said Laurits.
“No, save your energy. You are already exhausted as is.”
Laurits’ brows furrowed. He lifted his chin as if offended. “I’ll be fine.”
“No, Laurits, I don’t want you straining yourself. The soldiers will be keeping watch. It’ll be fine for one night,” said Cedrik, voice firm.
Laurits regarded the older man with clear exasperation. “Fine, I’ll just set up minor spells around the perimeter. Just something to alert us if anything enters the camp.”
“All right.” Cedrik smiled.
Laurits made his way to the edge of the camp and began tracing the perimeter with magic dusting off him, the tiny wisps threading together and laying over the ground. Meanwhile, one of the soldiers left with empty waterskins to find a stream, and the other two men busied with the tired horses.
“Tell me about yourself, Thaleon. Where are you from?” Cedrik said as he handed him the waterskin.
“Alfhum, my lord. I was born there.” Thaleon took a tentative sip and returned the waterskin to the nobleman.
Cedrik took a sip before setting it aside. “And what about your parents? Are they also from Alfhum?”
Thaleon shook his head. “My mother was born in Sylla and my father in Cirgun.”
“Sylla, the capital of Ae’lis?” Cedrik’s brows shot upwards.
Thaleon nodded, peering down at his hands to avoid the nobleman’s curious eyes.
“She traveled a long way from home,” Cedrik mused. He clasped his hands before him as he regarded Thaleon.
“She was fleeing the war, my lord.”
Thaleon did not know much about the fall of Ae’lis except many fled the isle after Darius slaughtered the Ae’lisian empress—his mother did not like talking about those times. Relief flooded him when Cedrik nodded and did not press for more details on his mother—it pained him to talk about his family.
Cedrik said, thoughtful, “Yes, many fled Ae’lis when Sylla fell. Even with all its magic, Ae’lis was not prepared for Darius. Living isolated for as long as they had, Ae’lis had become overly confident in their defenses—they had good reasons to be, of course. Ae’lis had the best mages in the world for centuries. Still, it wasn’t enough.”
“What happened in Ae’lis, my lord?” asked Thaleon, intrigued. His eyes lifted to meet Cedrik’s. “My mother—she never talked much about what happened,” he added after realizing the question had come out sounding too eager.
“Those were...terrible times.” Cedrik’s eyes dimmed and his face fell. “The Ae’lisian empress chose to fight to the death rather than accept the shame of kneeling to whom she deemed a lowly Itothian. Others threw themselves off the high cliffs into the sea, choosing death over accepting defeat. Darius returned to Helfirim after the fall of Ae’lis and I am sure you have heard of what happened at the Towers.”
“Mage Eleanel defeated Darius. When Darius fell, his army of Terrors was forced back into the Between and the rebel mages scattered,” said Thaleon, repeating a simple version of the story he’d heard a thousand times. He left out the sensational details, certain Cedrik wouldn’t appreciate the wild imaginations of passionate bards.
“And then?” Cedrik encouraged with a small smile.
“King Erasmir ordered Valhm—the dark mage tower—demolished and all dark mages executed. Only Elarhm—the light mage tower—was left standing and what was known as the Towers came to be called the Tower.”
“Very good.” Cedrik nodded. “I can never get over the irony Eleanel might have been executed had she survived.” His smile turned rueful.
“What do you mean?” Thaleon, startled by the flippant comment, forgot to address Cedrik by the proper title.
“It isn’t common knowledge but Eleanel was a valekyn.” Cedrik’s tone remained casual but his eyes turned attentive as they regarded Thaleon.
Thaleon fell to stunned silence as his mind faltered momentarily. He tried and failed to reconcile this information with what he knew of dark mages.
Every story he grew up hearing depicted dark magic as an evil, abominable force used to tear apart the very fabric of the universe and summon demons into the world. Everyone said it corrupted everything it touched including the mages who used it—its taint was the reason King Erasmir banned dark magic and its mages from Itothia.
“My lord, may I ask a question?” Thaleon said, hesitant.
“Of course.” The twinkle in Cedrik’s eyes hinted he knew the question even before it left his lips.
“If Eleanel was a dark mage then why did she stop Darius? Aren’t dark mages evil?” Thaleon peered up at the nobleman, doubt evident on his features.
“Because one’s heart is not determined by the magic one wields, Thaleon. All magic can be used for good or evil. Even had Darius wielded elar—or light magic as it is commonly called—he would have taken the same actions and his place in history would not have changed. The choices we make are our own—right or wrong.”
Cedrik’s eyes grew distant as if a memory had come to his mind unbidden. His lips drooped at the edges as his voice lowered to a whisper. “And too often, we aren’t given the right or wrong choices—only different ones.” Cedrik’s gaze drifted to the orange and red flames licking the stacked wood.
Thaleon considered the nobleman’s words. What Cedrik said went against everything he had heard of dark mages. But then, every single story failed to mention Eleanel had been a dark mage. And there was something about the way Cedrik’s voice quietened and his eyes darkened. The entire thing seemed intensely personal for Cedrik.
“Do you have magic, my lord?”
Thaleon’s question brought a small smile to Cedrik’s face. “No, I am afraid not. Although as a child, I had often wished I did.” He leaned in close. “You are very lucky, Thaleon. Only one out of a hundred are born with magic in Itothia.”
“My lord, what’s it like in Allesdale?”
The question had been nagging at Thaleon ever since leaving Pimal. He barely knew these men yet he had agreed to go with them to a place he had never heard of. He wondered whether it had been a terrible mistake and if he was naive for trusting them.
“Allesdale is a castle northeast of here. It is small compared to some of the other castles in Itothia but big enough for the number of student mages we have currently. And if I am being honest, I don’t see the number growing beyond what Allesdale can house.” Cedrik’s eyes shone with pride, his voice bright.
“Many of the master mages from Helfirim agreed to teach at Allesdale. They are experts in their chosen fields with years of experience.” He smiled, face open and sincere. “I know you barely know me or Laurits but I promise you we mean you no harm. If you give Allesdale a chance, I think you will like it very much—most of our students do. All meals and necessities are provided and all students have to worry about is applying themselves to their studies.”
It all sounded too good to be true.
Thaleon wasn’t naive enough to believe such education was offered for free. He stared back at Cedrik for a moment before feeling courageous enough to voice out loud his question.
“My lord, surely there must be a price?”
“There is no cost to attend Allesdale.” Cedrik’s smile deepened at Thaleon’s doubtful expression. “The funds to run Allesdale are completely covered by the Crown. The castle itself was a gift from King Danre. It used to be a vacation home for the royal family—I was invited along more than once.” His eyes grew bright as if he recalled fond memories.
“And besides, once a student is deemed ready by the master of their chosen discipline, they find sponsorships with the noble houses. The temporary positions allow the students to practice their craft while forming valuable relationships and often result in permanent employment. Sponsorships also help the Crown recoup some of the costs of the mage’s training as the noble houses pay Allesdale for the duration of their contract.”
Thaleon nodded then his expression turned apprehensive as a thought entered his mind. "Are there other”—he couldn’t quite get the word out—“others like me?”
Cedrik glanced about the camp. Two soldiers stood in the distance caring for the horses and the third was still away. Laurits continued his walk of the parameter, magic steadily lifting off him. Still, Cedrik dropped his voice to near whisper as he leaned in close. “No, the ban on val—or dark magic—is still in effect and Allesdale’s students are subjected to the same laws as the rest of Itothia.”
Thaleon felt cold.
“Which is why you must never use dark magic.” Cedrik’s face turned somber. “If anyone learns you are a valekyn, I may not be able to protect you.”
The ice inside Thaleon grew, spreading inch by inch as the color drained from his face. Cedrik’s expression softened at seeing his obvious distress and he reached out to take his shoulder in a comforting grip.
“I know this entire situation must be frightening for you but before we even reach Allesdale, Laurits will teach you to hide your birth magic,” said Cedrik. “The term birth magic is misleading, actually—all mages are born with both val and elar. Valekyn and elarkyn are just terms used to refer to the magic the mage was born with a proclivity for. Regardless, every mage can learn to use both with hard work. Most just never bother since it is agonizingly difficult to manipulate the magic one is not predisposed towards—not to mention the amount available is minuscule in comparison.”
Anxiety ate away at Thaleon he wouldn’t be able to do it, that he would inevitably slip up and his dark magic—or val—would be on display for everyone to see.
Seeing his panicked expression, Cedrik squeezed his shoulder gently. “Ae’lisians are some of the best mages in the world, Thaleon. Take courage in your mother’s blood if nothing else.” His blue eyes held Thaleon’s wavering gaze steadily.
Whatever else the nobleman might have said was lost as Laurits joined them. He slid in next to Cedrik, exhaustion heavy across his features, and took the waterskin the nobleman held out with a silent thanks.
He glanced down at the uneaten food Thaleon held and frowned. “You need to eat up. Your body’s still recovering from touching magic for the first time.”
Thaleon, feeling too timid to give even a single word response to the intimidating mage, nodded.
Laurits took a bit of dried meat and bread for himself and ate it without pleasure, seeming to be eating out of necessity.
“So Thaleon tells me his mother was from Sylla.”
Laurits quirked an eyebrow at Cedrik’s comment then stared at Thaleon with a pensive expression. “Now that you mention it, he does have Ae’lisian features—subtle, but they are there.” The mage cocked his head to the side. “Does your mother have magic?”
The question caught Thaleon off guard.
He hadn’t thought about it before although he wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to him to ask his mother. He thought hard for a moment, thinking back to the mornings when his mother would kneel on the floor to get the fire going. On cold or rainy days, the fire took a while to catch and she would rub her knees afterward to knead away the aches from the hard floors.
He thought of the times he had accompanied her to the well to draw water. It was hard work carrying buckets of water back home and sometimes she took a break halfway. If she had magic, why wouldn’t she have used it to make her life easier?
“No, I don’t think so,” said Thaleon, heart clenching painfully with the knowledge all future memories would lack her smiles.
“What about your father? Or grandparents?” said Cedrik.
“My father didn’t have magic. His parents didn’t either and I can’t be sure about my mother’s side but she never mentioned they did. Her brother had magic though.”
Regret filled Thaleon as he was forced to admit how little he knew of his mother’s family. She didn’t talk about them much and had a vague way of answering questions when asked. Although she gladly engaged him with stories of Ae’lis, her answers always turned cryptic when asked about her family and a dark cloud would roll over her and linger for hours after. Thaleon learned at an early age to leave the subject alone entirely.
He only knew of her brother because his father and Uncle Caden had mentioned him. His Ae’lisian uncle remained a sore subject since he chose to return to Ae’lis after the war and passionately disagreed with his sister’s decision to stay in Itothia with Thaleon’s father. It strained their relationship and their parting had been bitter from what Thaleon could piece together.
Laurits shrugged. “Magic doesn’t always run through blood. There are plenty of mages in Helfirim from long bloodlines without a drop of magic.”
“You’ve been to the Tower?” said Thaleon, momentarily forgetting his shyness around the mage.
“Laurits spent some time in Helfirim years back as a favor for me. He’s the one who managed to recruit many of the teachers we have at Allesdale,” said Cedrik—his pride for the young man displayed plainly on his face.
“It wasn’t too difficult. The Council liked the thought of their own keeping eyes on things at Allesdale. They weren’t too keen on the idea of mages being brought up outside of Helfirim and having their masters in Allesdale overseeing the training put their minds at ease.” Laurits smiled wryly as he added, “The Council does not like anything regarding magic they cannot control.”
Cedrik followed behind in a more serious tone. “And it’s understandable, you see. Anything related to magic going awry is blamed on the Council. To the general public, magic is synonymous to the Council of Helfirim—a ridiculous idea.” Cedrik shook his head. “The Council cannot keep track of every mage in Itothia and much less control them. It’s just impossible. They were hesitant, but the Council saw the advantage of Allesdale keeping another set of eyes on young mages. The Crown’s support of Allesdale also harbored goodwill from the entire mage community.”
The hour grew late and everyone retired for the night while one of the soldiers kept watch. Thaleon laid down awkwardly on the provided bedroll and rested his head on his folded arms. Filled with nervous energy, he felt as if sleep would never come as he stared into the dark canopy of leaves.
Before he knew it, his eyes grew too heavy to keep open and he drifted away, wishing he was in his small bed at home with Dawyn only a few feet away across the room.
“Cedrik!”
Thaleon woke instantly.
He sat up from his bedroll to be greeted by the sight of at least twenty men and women with their weapons drawn. The young soldier who had taken the first watch stood stiffly with a dagger to his throat, face white.
The other two soldiers, woken at Laurits’ yell, scrambled to their feet and drew their swords—their eyes grew dismayed as they took in the hostile bandits encircling the entire camp.
Laurits stood next to Cedrik with elar blazing, shoulders tense as he faced the sneering bandits.
Cedrik blinked at the scene about him and rose slowly to his feet. He pulled Thaleon against him and wrapped a reassuring arm about his shoulder. Leaning nervously against the nobleman, Thaleon counted at least a dozen arrows aimed at them.
“What do you want?” said Cedrik. “There is no need for violence. Let my man go and we can talk.”
The young soldier paled as the woman holding him pressed the blade harder against his throat in response. The flesh parted like soft clay and a rivulet of blood trickled down the front of his uniform. Laurits’ elar spasmed, gathering like a malevolent storm.
A tall man stepped forward tapping the flat side of his dagger against his palm. His dark eyes grazed over the small group and his face broke into an arrogant grin when Laurits stepped forward to place himself before Cedrik. His smile widened as he took in the slender youth, revealing several missing teeth.
“Just tell me what you want. There is no need for bloodshed,” Cedrik said. He pulled Laurits behind him as the bandit leader took several steps forward.
“That’s the problem with you nobleborne.” The man leered at Cedrik. “Your kind always wants to talk.” He twiddled with the knife in his hand absentmindedly. His eyes drew down to Thaleon before lifting back up at Cedrik. “What do you want to talk about? I already have your carriage and everything in it. I have you surrounded with enough arrows pointed at you to bring down a bear. What is it you can offer me?”
“Step away from him.” Laurits snarled as he pushed past Cedrik.
“Laurits, stand down.” Cedrik shot the youth a sharp look.
The bandit refused to move. He continued to toy with his dagger even as Laurits’ hands curled into fists.
