The Mortal Mage, page 3
part #3 of The Mortal Mage Series
This hole was large enough for him to stick his head and even one shoulder into it if he was mad enough to try. He controlled a cluster of bastial energy with his mind, telling it to hover above the hole. It provided him with a nice blanket of heat as well, though the strain on his mind wasn’t worth using it only for warmth.
There was nothing he could see in the hole before it turned out of sight. So he stood and waited, listening to the sound of tapping and clicking.
A rush of noise sent him back a step, squeaks and clicks coming from the hole.
It looked as if a wave of black lifted up from the base of the hole and spread along the wall. He could make out the individual febeetles only when some jumped at him from the wall. One landed on his arm as he backed away. He swatted it off, his focus broken. The bastial energy dispersed, leaving him in complete darkness.
He gathered more to see the tiny army of febeetles on the ground headed for his boots. There was only one way to go to avoid them, deeper into the cave. He ran and found them to be quite slow as they gave chase.
Desil wondered if it was the light that let them know where he was, or if they could smell his flesh. Now was not the time to test a theory, however. He needed light.
With the cave widening, Desil began to feel drafts of cold air. The holes on the walls were larger here, some big enough to fit his entire body. He would turn around and head back soon enough, unsure why he was still venturing on. Part of him was curious to see if anything awaited him at the end of the cave, but another part of him already knew something was ahead. And that it probably wasn’t friendly.
He headed down the middle of the cave, where he heard the least of the swarming beetles. Staying away from the walls was the only way to keep his fear at bay. He couldn’t tell what it was that he felt exactly, but his gut told him to stay away from it.
He started to feel sickly. At first he panicked, wondering if the air was poisoned with some toxin. But he let out his light, gathered his breath, and realized that he was able to regain his strength after a quick rest. So he went on.
The noise of moving beetles halted him several times as it came and went in loud waves. He checked the ground, walls, and ceiling around him each time, only to find a few crawling around the holes as if unsure whether to enter. None of them seemed aware of him anymore, though he was certain that would change if he got too close. It did seem as if they’d smelled him earlier after all, for the illumination of his gathered bastial energy was the only light in the cavern, and it did nothing to attract them now.
The cave grew wider still, until he could no longer see the walls from the center. Crooked pillars blocked his path, many covered with beetles. He took wide turns as he felt himself getting weaker the closer he came to the end.
A thud startled him. He saw movement across the ground, a ball of beetles rolling. But as some fell off, Desil caught sight of what this thing really was. A hare, still alive and hopping around, was trying to free itself from the febeetles attached to its little limbs. Desil started toward it, unsure what he would do, but dozens of febeetles got there first and covered every inch of fur. The ball rolled toward Desil’s boots. He backed away before the febeetles caught his scent.
With sickening crunches, the febeetles took the hare apart and carried their grotesque treasure deeper into the cave. Many marched with tufts of bloody fur sticking up from their little heads. Their mouths certainly were strong, many carrying hunks of flesh as big as they were. Desil tried not to listen to the sounds of them devouring everything except the bones.
He kept a safe distance as he followed them. The sides of the cave rounded toward each other. This must finally be the end.
The ground itself seemed to be moving as countless beetles crawled around. On top of them was one many times larger than the others, about the length of Desil’s forearm. Its long body made up almost its entire length, with an arrow-like head at the end. With long legs, it seemed capable of getting around quickly, but it stayed put instead to feast on pieces of flesh shoved in front of its face by the hundreds of beetles swarming around it.
Desil felt weak as if he had a fever, but he figured this queen couldn’t be the cause. With fear coming out of his throat in whispered exclamations and curses, he hastily looked around.
In one corner, there were no febeetles. They all stayed away from something that Desil couldn’t see from where he stood. He edged closer, watching the ground to put his boot where the least amount of beetles roamed. There was something black gathered in the corner. It seemed to run up the wall, possibly even head into one of the holes. It was unimaginably dark, appearing just like a shadow even with Desil’s light. An eppil vine, he hoped. What else could it be?
He edged closer, but a sudden pain to the back of his leg made him shout. He almost lost his focus on the bastial energy as he lifted up his pant leg to find a single febeetle attached to his skin. Two more were climbing up his boots. He slapped them off as more started up his foot. The first held onto him tightly, pinching him as he grabbed it and pulled.
Pain shot up his other leg. The light went out. He panicked and started to run, hopefully back the way he’d come. They bit his legs with ferocity, needles sliding deeper the more he let them gnaw freely.
Soon he stopped and made light. He lifted up his pant legs and shrieked at the black covering him. In a flurry, he swiped, grabbed, and batted them off him. More crawled onto his boots before he was done.
He ran farther, then stopped again to free his legs from the little monsters. He kept this up at a frantic pace. There were fewer beetles on his legs the more he ran, but even a single one biting him was painful.
Eventually he made it back to the entrance and turned around to watch the ground and walls. He checked his legs as he waited. Trickles of blood ran down. The wounds were painful but shallow. He would be fine. More than the pain, it was their unstoppable urge to eat his flesh that disturbed him.
He waited an hour before he let himself relax. Only two febeetles came after him during that time. He grabbed them and pulled their little heads off.
He slumped against the inner wall, his legs stinging, and decided he would wait here for Beatrix and Kirnich to return. The psychic should be able to control the creatures, even if there were so many of them.
Eppil vines! Desil shook his fist in victory. This is what Basen must’ve wanted them to find. With eppil and akorell, they could finally start building a device that would threaten the warring kingdoms with explosions. They could finally end this war, as they’d intended to do from the start.
But if the eppil in this cave was all Basen wanted them to find, what did it mean for Beatrix and Kirnich, who had gone to the citadel? Should Desil go after them? It was too late now. They would already be inside, or they would be heading back to him.
So he waited, and waited, trying to ignore the hunger pains, which felt worse than the sting of his leg wounds. Eventually he fell asleep.
He awoke startled, looking around for attacking febeetles. Only the wind was there to greet him, whistling as it passed by the outside of the cave. He checked on the softened-and-then-hardened-again stone where he’d hidden the bags of akorell. No one had come and tried to hack away the rock.
He got up and looked outside the cave, across the field of bones, mostly because there was nothing else to see. The wind howled, chilling him instantly. He was not dressed for this weather. With no signs of life, he headed back into the cave. Still tired, he closed his eyes and caught up on some more sleep.
By the time he awoke, it was night. He stood and stretched.
“Beatrix? Kirnich?” he called in each direction, unable to see a thing. He received no answer.
Shivering, Desil rubbed his arms up and down and walked deeper into the cave. If they weren’t back now, they must’ve been granted admission to the citadel. It had been nearly a full day since he’d seen them. He didn’t want to sleep anymore.
His stomach ached. There was only one thing he could eat, so febeetles would be his dinner, his breakfast, and every meal until the princess and the warrior returned. If he removed the insects’ head, their limbs, and their carapace, they might not be so bad. It had been many years since he’d tried a beetle, but he knew they would suffice.
So he hunted the little monsters. It took the better part of an hour to collect and remove the heads of ten of them. The first had gotten a solid bite on his palm when he’d tried to grab it, but he learned from his mistake and collected the others without much issue. He wished he could make a fire to fry them on a stick, but he didn’t want to risk drawing attention to his presence in the cave.
It wasn’t easy to get them down his throat uncooked, but it was much better than going hungry.
He waited, thirsty and cold, halfway through the night before he told himself his companions wouldn’t be coming back until morning at least. So he should stop hoping.
He closed his eyes and traveled into the other plane. The two battles, against the Marros and then the Elves, were only yesterday. That seemed strange. It seemed like they were weeks ago.
He could feel that Leida was still alive, still so far away. She would remain that way until Desil returned to Ovira. He was confident he could find her in the other plane once he was closer, and even more confident that he could speak to her. It seemed pointless to try now, but what else was there to do?
After hours of practice, he felt that he could push himself deeper into this other plane than ever before. It gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach, like he was starting to fall, which always brought him out with a startle. But there were a few moments that he spent in this place, just before slipping out, when he felt immensely empowered. The deeper he was, the more control he felt. Over what exactly, he had no idea. First he had to understand how he could fall into the plane without falling out of it.
This made little sense to him when he thought through the feeling, but he wouldn’t ignore the feeling itself, even if there was no logic behind it. His power over water and land came to him the same way. A sensation without logic. He would trust his heart now as he had before.
However, right now his heart was telling him that Beatrix and Kirnich were not coming back on their own. They needed his help.
He got up as he sighed, no longer able to focus. Morning had broken. Desil went out, walking over the human bones that no longer affected him more than the annoyance of walking over uneven ground, and knelt over the frozen lake. He told the water to unfreeze as he collected it in his pouch and drank until he was shivering violently. He brought back a full pouch as he returned to his cave and spent the next hour getting warm through the collection of bastial energy.
He waited hours, past noon, and still there were no signs of his comrades. He knew something really had happened to them, as he’d feared. It was time to act.
CHAPTER FOUR
Beatrix couldn’t figure out a diplomatic way out of this as the king commanded her and Kirnich to come forward. He pointed to the floor in front of him. “Stand here and tell us who you are,” King Karoltow demanded.
She’d been taught never to manipulate her own emotions, for doing so would prevent her from learning to deal with them naturally, but this was an exception. She calmed her nerves on her way past the three people on trial, for she needed to think.
She paid little attention to the three behind her as she focused on the king. He had gray hair where he wasn’t balding above his forehead. A great, long mouth split his face. He had puffy lips and bulbous eyes as if he’d eaten something that caused an allergy. Given his calm demeanor as he sat with one leg folded over his knee, this seemed to be his natural appearance.
The court was silent. She could see the king growing perturbed as his swollen lips twisted inward. Was it possible that this king had a trained psychic somewhere here ready to detect lies? There didn’t appear to be a psychic near him, only ten armored guards who looked as if they had skill with sword, not energy manipulation. She noted an executioner in the corner, his steel axe resting against the wall beside him.
“I’m Beatrix Estlander,” she said. “And this is Kirnich Chalder. We came from Kyrro, in Ovira, to see you,” she lied. “We were hoping to speak with you privately...when you had some time.”
The court remained silent, their energy unchanged. All they wanted was to leave. The king, however, smiled as his gaze roamed her body.
But he said nothing.
The uncomfortable silence pulled out words from her mouth. “You might know Basen Hiller, the headmaster of the Academy in Kyrro.” She didn’t know when he had visited, but he must’ve been here before to make a portal nearby. Hopefully he had gone into the citadel then and had wanted the same of Beatrix and Kirnich now, though she was starting to worry this was not the case.
The king still didn’t reply. Beatrix could feel Kirnich about to succumb to his anger. Fortunately he kept his mouth shut.
“A princess from the castle of Kyrro,” the king finally said. He sounded amused. “I think all of us would enjoy hearing the opinion of a foreign princess about one of our matters?”
The audience agreed with yesses and ayes, many speaking with enthusiasm. She felt hope from their energy.
“Look at these three behind you, Princess,” the king demanded with a lift of his chin.
Beatrix gazed over her shoulder as Kirnich did the same. The three on trial were of vastly different ages. The boy was the youngest. He appeared about the same age as Desil, eighteen, if not younger. He looked up from the ground as if ready to plead, the whites of his eyes glistening. The woman had the exact same look. She must’ve been near the age of Beatrix, twenty-six, though her hair was blonde not black. Her arms were as thin as sticks.
The old man was the only one of the three with an inkling of courage as he held a stern expression. He looked as if he wanted to fight, but he couldn’t straighten his back, and his hands tremored.
The king continued, “If it were up to you to choose one, who is least deserving of life?”
What? Her heart began to race. Beatrix turned back to the swollen-faced king and put on a false smile. “They all seem deserving of life to me.”
“Ah, but you don’t know of their crimes. Each of them has admitted in front of a psychic to what they have done. The young man is a thief. The woman is a whore. And the old man can no longer work. One will be killed.”
This didn’t come as a surprise to anyone in the crowd, their energy showing fear. It didn’t compare to the terror of the three people behind Beatrix who she now refused to look at.
“What is your opinion, Princess of Kyrro?”
She couldn’t maintain her false smile any longer. “Only that I’m glad not to be a part of this.”
“But you are. You are standing in this court, and I am telling you that you must make a decision.”
Kirnich spoke. “If it has no effect on your decision, then what’s the point?”
The king’s face soured. “Who are you?”
“Kirnich.”
“I know your name already. Who are you?”
“A high officer of Kyrro’s army, guarding the princess.”
The king regarded him with a scowl for a moment. “I don’t like you. You are dismissed.”
Five of the ten armored guards moved in on Kirnich.
“Don’t fight,” Beatrix whispered to him.
She didn’t hear his grumbled response as he let the men escort him out of the courtroom.
As Beatrix felt her own anger surfacing, strength came with it. “I will not choose. None of them deserve death.”
“You were not brought into this courtroom to question the rules of our society, Princess. Another insult like that, and you will not be leaving this place in the manner you’d hoped.” He waited for her to respond.
“Then I politely request not be involved in this matter, as I clearly don’t know enough about your society to make this decision. I came to speak to you about other matters, and I will gladly wait outside this citadel until a time can be arranged for us to meet.” She wondered if her urge to flee and never return was obvious. She and Kirnich didn’t belong here. It seemed unlikely that entering the citadel was what Basen had expected. “I will take Kirnich and go, Sire.”
“No.”
Her muscles tensed. Would he kill her if she fought with psyche in an attempt to escape? She looked over her shoulder, but Kirnich was nowhere to be seen. She cursed inwardly. She wouldn’t leave without him, but where had he been taken?
“Pick someone!” the king ordered.
Relax, she told herself. Pick someone if you must and be done with this. She would not turn to look at their faces again, but she couldn’t keep her back turned to the terror in their energy.
No, she was wrong to think of this as a task that must be done quickly. The king could just as easily use her choice instead of his own, as he didn’t seem to care about these “criminals.” She took a breath and turned around to face them again.
A thief, a whore, and an invalid. The thief could’ve stolen bread to feed himself and still would’ve been called a thief. Being a whore wasn’t a crime where Beatrix came from, unless the woman had betrayed her marriage vows. The old, shaky man might’ve spent his life working for this kingdom. Execution was an extreme verdict for any of these people.
She turned back to King Karoltow. She was already sick of looking at his swollen face. “I must know the details of their crimes if I’m to form an accurate opinion.”
The king sighed angrily. “You are not very smart, Princess of Kyrro. You have figured out nothing, when I’ve given you everything you need to form an opinion. One of these three must die, but none are murderers or rapists. That should make it obvious to you that the worst offender of each week is killed. The harsh winter doesn’t permit us to grow enough crops to feed everyone. It should also be obvious that these three are the worst offenders of this week. It does not matter what the boy stole because his actions have already put him here. It doesn’t matter why the woman has made herself a whore, because her actions have already put her here. Now do you see?”
