Sorcerer (The Mage Saga Book 3), page 45
© 2022 by Kenneth H Warner, II
All rights reserved.
Maps by Zenta Brice
Chapter One: Court Mage
Chapter Two: Princess
Chapter Three: Lovers
Chapter Four: Syllith
Chapter Five: Captured
Chapter Six: Wayland
Chapter Seven: Sorceress
Chapter Eight: Debate
Chapter Nine: Journey
Chapter Ten: University
Chapter Eleven: Highgate
Chapter Twelve: Lessons
Chapter Thirteen: The Council
Chapter Fourteen: Travels
Chapter Fifteen: The Temple of the Goddess
Chapter Sixteen: Necromancy
Chapter Seventeen: The Cult of Nyro
Chapter Eighteen: The Battle of Strom
Chapter Nineteen: The Battle of Greenfield
Chapter Twenty: Arthos
Chapter Twenty-one: Murder
Chapter Twenty-two: Downfall
Chapter Twenty-three: The Search
Chapter Twenty-four: Battle Plans
Chapter Twenty-five: Allison
Chapter Twenty-six: Assassination
Chapter Twenty-seven: Rescue
Chapter Twenty-eight: The Battle of Highgate
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Loss
Chapter Thirty: Betrayal
Chapter Thirty-one: Nyro
Chapter Thirty-two: Desperate Measures
Chapter Thirty-three: Prophecy Fulfilled
Chapter Thirty-four: Defeat
Chapter Thirty-five: Departures
Chapter Thirty-six: Nightmare
Epilogue
SORCERER
By Ken Warner
Get your FREE novella!
To get your FREE novella, Mage’s Bane, and
receive info about new releases & book promotions!
Just click here!
Map of Middle Maeda (tap here)
Map of Anoria (tap here)
Chapter One: Court Mage
Khaldun left the great hall, feeling lost. So much had changed in so little time. Khaldun had gone from prisoner to court mage, Jezebel from farmer to princess, and Allison from princess and heir apparent to sorcerer. None of this seemed real. He wandered across the courtyard but didn’t know where he was going. Fortunately, Oswald approached him.
“Do you have a moment, my lord?” he asked.
“Lord?” Khaldun chuckled. “That’s not right. I don’t own any land.”
“The honorific does apply primarily to landowners, but is also used for people in authority such as yourself now that you are Spanbrook’s chief mage.”
“If you say so. But please just call me Khaldun.”
“As you wish, my lord. If you would come with me I will show you to your chambers.” Oswald hurried off toward the northwestern tower, Khaldun in his wake. He produced a great skeleton key and handed it to Khaldun. “This is yours now. It opens every lock in the castle.”
Khaldun took the key and unlocked the door, holding it open for Oswald. The steward led him up the spiral steps to Myrddin’s office—no, Khaldun corrected himself—his office, now.
“You’ve got this level for official business, as well as living quarters on the upper floor. We’ve had the staff tidy up and remove Myrddin’s personal effects, although that amounted to very little. Everything that remains is yours now.”
Khaldun gazed around the room. Thick carpets covered the stone floor. There was a large desk with a crystal ball sitting on its stand in one corner. A cabinet full of glass bottles and vials stood against the far wall. Directly across from the desk was an enormous fireplace. There were four narrow windows, each facing a cardinal direction, and torches in their sconces between them.
“Is there anything you require, my lord?” Oswald asked.
“No, I don’t think so,” Khaldun replied.
Oswald bowed slightly, heading back toward the steps, but then stopped. “My lord… Might I ask for your assistance in a delicate matter?”
“Of course.”
“We must urge Her Highness to choose a mate and produce an heir as quickly as possible,” Oswald began. It took Khaldun a moment to remember that he was referring to Jezebel, not Allison. “Only then can we ensure that Spanbrook remains in the Barclay family. I’m not sure that Her Highness fully grasps the urgency. But I know the two of you are, ah, close. Perhaps if you were to have a word with her…”
“Yes, I will,” Khaldun said with a sigh. “But Jezebel is nothing if not pragmatic. I’m sure she understands how important this is. Do you know where she is now?”
“I believe she is with Allison in the former princess’s chambers,” Oswald replied.
“Very well. Oh, also, I arrived here with nothing but the clothes on my back. Does the castle have a tailor?”
“Our master of wardrobe can furnish you with whatever you require,” Oswald replied. “Some mage’s robes, perhaps?”
“Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you.”
Oswald left. Khaldun knew Jezebel probably wanted to be alone with Allison for the little time she had left in Spanbrook. He walked around the chamber for a moment, getting a closer look at its contents. He ran his hand across the top of the crystal ball, wondering if it was functional like the seeing stones of Pytha, or merely decorative. But he didn’t sense anything magical about it.
Khaldun climbed the steps to the upper level, emerging in an identical room that contained only a bed and a dresser. There was a trapdoor in the ceiling with a ladder leading up to it. Khaldun climbed to the top and opened the hatch, emerging on the tower roof. There was a breeze up here, and it was a beautiful, sunny day. Gazing out across the courtyard, he had a perfect view of Spanbrook Town and the farms beyond.
It was tough to comprehend. This land was his now. He didn’t own it, but it would be his home for the rest of his life, and his responsibility to protect. For his entire life, he’d lived with the wayfarers, never settling in any one place. It was the only way he knew. True, he’d been tiring of the endless wandering, and had found himself yearning to put down roots somewhere. And after losing Nomad and meeting Jezebel, he’d started considering Spanbrook as a possibility.
But then he’d embarked on that crazy quest with Jezebel, nearly lost his life more times than he could count, transformed into a sorcerer, and been bound to Prince Aldo. Upon Aldo’s death, his bond had transferred to Jezebel, because Allison’s own transformation had made it impossible for her to be a conjurnor and disqualified her as an heir. And now Khaldun had no choice: Spanbrook would be his home whether he liked it or not.
The situation made him feel bitter. When he was younger, he’d longed to attend the university to become a full mage. They wouldn’t have him then because he was a wayfarer. But now that he’d become a sorcerer, their rules dictated that he had to live the rest of his days bound to another. Khaldun would have been perfectly content to settle down in Spanbrook, taking jobs that required his thaumaturgic skills. And although he was happy to live in the castle and have his every need met by its staff, he would have preferred retaining his freedom and making his own way in the world.
Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. His transformation couldn’t be undone. Nor could his bond. He was Jezebel’s to command for better or for worse. So, he might as well get used to the idea.
Khaldun returned to his chambers. He sat down at the desk for a moment, but felt restless. Leaving the tower, Khaldun headed over to the keep. One of the guards opened the door for him. Walking inside, he headed down the main corridor, familiarizing himself with the layout. He made his way up to the second floor and found the maids cleaning out Aldo’s chambers. Khaldun hadn’t thought about it, but figured Jezebel would probably move into that suite once it was ready.
As he passed Allison’s chambers, he heard voices moaning inside. He felt a pang of sadness, knowing this was the last time Jezebel and Allison might ever see each other. Jezebel loved Allison; he was sure of it. Khaldun knew only too well what it felt like to say farewell to the love of his life due to circumstances beyond his control.
Heading up the steps to the top floor, Khaldun found that the library occupied this entire level. Shelves packed with books and scrolls lined the walls, and several enormous freestanding bookcases filled much of the room. Walking between them, Khaldun browsed some of the titles. The Barclays had amassed quite the collection over the years. It wasn’t the largest library Khaldun had seen, but it dwarfed the few he’d visited in other castles. There were a couple of reading nooks by the windows at the far end with plush chairs and oil lamps for nighttime use.
Leaving the keep, Khaldun realized he was famished. Luckily, they were serving lunch in the great hall. He sat down with Badrick, the castle’s master-at-arms. They chatted briefly, but mostly ate in silence. After that, Khaldun returned to his tower.
Sitting behind his desk, he leaned back, resting his head against the high-backed chair. And that’s when he finally noticed it. Across the chamber, something was magically concealed. He could feel it, like a feather tickling his senses. Getting to his feet, he crossed the room, trying to locate it. Strangely, it seemed as if there were something embedded inside the wall.
Passing his hand across the stone, he realized there was an illusion spell in place. Removing the magic, he found a cubical cavity, roughly two feet to a side. The space appeared empty, but there was something more here. Someone had tucked
There was a scroll and a pyramid of black stone with intricate latticework on its faces. The pyramid looked exactly like the one they’d found in Stanbridge and tried to keep away from Henry and his people. Dredmort had used it to create the wraiths, and it had turned out to be a portal to the spirit realm.
What the hell was this doing here? Khaldun thought that the university had gone to great lengths to destroy such devices. Had Myrddin somehow used this to become a necromancer? That didn’t make much sense. To make that transformation, a sorcerer had to bind his soul to a demon. There were spells to do that. Nobody knew how Myrddin had learned the spells, but Khaldun didn’t understand how the artifact could have helped… Unless he’d used it to contact a demon who knew the spells?
Khaldun unrolled the scroll. The text was written in the common tongue, in a long, flowing script.
“I have foreseen my own downfall,” Khaldun read. “Yet also the possibility of my return. There is no stopping those who will end my reign. I have examined every possible path forward, yet they all end with the same finality. The agents and method of my demise are set in stone, identical every time.
“But the means of my resurrection remain infuriatingly vague. That future is unclear and seems uncertain. Many pathways lead to my permanent banishment, and only a few to my return. Yet each of those begins here, in Spanbrook, my childhood home. Although, as a child, never did I dream I would set foot in the castle. Peasants aren’t welcome here, and orphans even less so. I visit now at the peak of my power, the absolute ruler of an entire continent. And yet I do so clandestinely. Nobody knows I am here, and the current occupant of this office will have no means of discovering what I conceal here today.
“But one will arrive, centuries from now, who will find this document and its accompanying artifact and know what to do with them. And to that person I bequeath one of the most closely guarded secrets in the history of the world: the spells that enable a sorcerer to become a necromancer.
“The magic is shockingly simple, and yet none but the secret-keepers have ever discovered it. And before me, few have ever dared to attempt it. The spells can be used to bind one demon or many; I have harnessed dozens.
“I have foreseen one pathway in which my liberator will bind me. My power will then merge with his—or hers—making us the most powerful mage the world has ever seen. Such a mage would gain from me arcane secrets that no one else has discovered. Together we would exceed my current level of magic; we would surpass even my jailers.
“But for this to be possible, first I must be freed.”
Khaldun realized he’d been holding his breath and released it, finding that he was shaking. The writer of this document could be only one person: Nyro.
Khaldun had no idea that Nyro grew up in Spanbrook. He didn’t think anyone else knew this, either. Enigma had told them that most of the Sacred Circle came from Pytha; Khaldun had always assumed that Nyro did, too.
Below her missive were the spells needed to bind a demon. This was the process through which a sorcerer transformed into a necromancer. A rite that only one mage had undergone since Nyro’s downfall: Myrddin. And now Khaldun held that potential in his hands. He wondered if Myrddin had been Spanbrook’s first sorcerer; had there been another, they probably would have sensed these items hidden in the wall, too. But Khaldun knew for sure that no one before Myrddin had used the spells.
Centuries ago, when Nyro became a sorcerer, the university assigned her to King Saliman of Pytha, making him her conjurnor. Soon after her appointment, she used these very spells to bind a demon and transform into a necromancer. In time, she discovered a way to reverse her bond to Saliman—making her his conjurnor and reclaiming her true name—a feat that should have been impossible. When the elves killed Nyro three hundred years later, she became a demon, eliminating her bond to Saliman’s descendant. As a demon, Nyro was vastly more powerful than any sorcerer alive. If one of them were to use these spells to bind her, she would overpower them and take total control.
Suddenly, Khaldun realized that the pyramid had started glowing. It was faint, but impossible to miss now that he’d noticed it. And there was something more. It wasn’t only visual but magical as well. As if the artifact were beckoning him.
Khaldun took the pyramid and the scroll and walked across to his desk, placing them on its surface. Holding his hand over the artifact, he could sense that this was a portal just like the one they’d recovered from Stanbridge. The portal was closed, but someone on the other side of it was calling out to him. Their desire was overwhelming; they were desperate to communicate with him. Khaldun wanted to resist this call. He tried to return the artifact to its hiding place, but couldn’t do it; his hand refused to reach out and grab the thing from the desk.
Against his better judgement, Khaldun decided to open the portal. He knew how dangerous this could be but found he could not ignore the call. With a wave of his hand, he cleared the way for the entity beyond.
Khaldun staggered backward as a serpent of smoke exploded from the artifact, circling the chamber and blotting out the daylight streaming through the windows. The smoke started to take form, and before long Khaldun could discern the shape of a person. As it solidified, there was a deep moaning sound and he thought he felt the tower tremble. Finally, a woman stood before him. Her naked body was tall and lithe; her wild black hair floating like a halo behind her head.
The woman reached above her with both arms and howled at the ceiling. Her skin was translucent, her muscles visible in sharp relief beneath it. She fixed Khaldun with a stare, and he felt like she was peering into his soul. Her irises were white like Myrddin’s had been.
“Nyro,” he whispered. This could be no on else. What had he done? Was she now free from her prison? How could this be?
“Who are you?” she asked with a smile both predatory and mischievous as she began circling him.
“How can you be here?” he asked, ignoring her question. His heart was pounding in his chest and his arms were trembling. “Did I just free you?”
“Khaldun,” she said, disregarding his questions and stroking his face with one hand; she felt solid—warm, even. But he felt no magic coming from her. This was no illusion. “That’s a Pythan name.”
“My people came from Pytha,” he told her, backing away. “How do you know my name?”
“The last one who found me—he’s gone, now.” It wasn’t a question.
“Myrddin found you?”
“I tried desperately to entice him to join me. But he refused. Obstinate fool. He could have wielded power beyond his imagination but he chose to bind one of my lesser servants instead. And he never visited me again after that.”
“I didn’t free you, then? You’re still trapped in Pytha?”
“You have not freed me,” she said with a sigh. “If only it were that simple. You must come to Pytha to liberate me from my prison.”
“But that’s impossible. I don’t know how to open the barrier.”
“There are ways around that. From the outside, anyway. I will teach you. Once I’m free, you can bind me and become the most powerful necromancer the world has ever seen.”
Khaldun chuckled; Nyro’s face registered irritation. “I’m not strong enough. You would overpower me in such an arrangement, and I would lose myself to you. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“There are ways around that, too,” Nyro told him. “But never mind that. You can bind any demon you want. I will possess someone else and allow you to join my Sacred Circle. You could be one of my top lieutenants in a new empire.”
“New empire?” Khaldun said, immediately realizing that of course that would be her goal. Retaking control of the entire continent. “No,” he said. “Never.”
Turning his attention to the pyramid, Khaldun focused on closing the portal. Nyro resisted, but her effort was not magical. She was trying to overpower him through sheer force of will. He found it almost impossible to act against her; it felt like trying to swim against a powerful current, or attempting to move one’s limbs in a dream.
“Young fool,” Nyro said with a sneer. “I offer you the power of a god and you would refuse?”
