Magician Prince (8 page)

Sane leveled his staff at Janus and shot a
blast of fire at him that the prince barely managed to avoid by
diving behind his bed. No simple thing of feathers and linens would
be enough to stop Sane’s rage as more memories of abuse surged
forth and held him in their power. He remembered the bite of knives
and scalpels into his flesh by Janus’ hand or at his command. His
head was held underwater in a bucket at times for almost as long as
he could hold his breath. There was no point to it. The collar
would have forced Sane to answer any question he was asked without
the need to hurt him. Janus just loved causing him pain. Sane was a
traitor to this man who would be king and there was no point to
pretending otherwise. It was long in coming, but now Janus would
die at the sorcerer’s hands. Then maybe Aurelia would have a chance
and Sane would have his final vengeance.

Janus’ knife faintly glowed blue as he popped
up from his hiding place. Sane should have known that the prince
would have been trained in the ways of the Kenzai considering his
fear and loathing of magicians. “Come at me, Sane, and we will end
this!” shouted Janus, but there was more bluster than bravery in
his howl. His knife shook unsteadily and its luminescence faded in
and out.

Another flame blast roared at Janus from the
sorcerer’s staff, but this time it caught his right arm engulfing
it in fire and causing him to drop the knife. Janus screamed in
pain as the fire ate away first his nightshirt’s sleeve and then
danced along his arm.

The prince’s guards were coming at Sane from
behind with their glowing swords drawn, brilliant blue lights
shined and they were determined to protect their prince. While
Janus was just a novice at the skill, these men were masters. All
of those who guarded the royal family were known for their
abilities as Kenzai and were on par with Kellen in that regard.
Facing two of them at close range should have been devastating to
the sorcerer and may have been in his weakened state, but Byrn
intervened with a hefty gust of wind that caught the men off-guard
and threw them skidding halfway down the hall. He was once more
wearing the disguise of Baryn.

When Sane turned back to finish off Janus, he
was gone and a hidden door built into the wall was sliding shut
behind him.

Sane slapped his hands against the wall
looking for the lever that would open the prince’s escape route.
Try as hard as he might, he could not find it. Janus was getting
away! “No!” the sorcerer bellowed his disbelief. He could feel the
stone’s stoic essence and commanded it to clear a path with such
rage that the wall shattered as if it was made of thin glass.

A horn sounded the alarm from somewhere
nearby.

“A hundred Kenzai warriors will be upon us in
a matter of minutes,” Kennath told them.

Byrn nodded. To Sane he said, “We have to
go.”

“I can still catch him! He has to die, not
just for me, but for you too,” Sane pleaded with Byrn for
understanding, “Go without me. I don’t care if I die, but Janus has
to as well.”

“If you kill Janus, then you doom us all,”
Byrn grabbed him by the shoulders and held him so that Sane could
clearly see his eyes. “I have risked everything already just to
guarantee your freedom. Do not throw it all away in a moment of
rage.” Everything? What did Byrn mean by that?

Janus’ guards returned, blocking the
magicians’ only way out. Sane’s body ached from exertion and the
prolonged torture sessions that had become an inevitable part of
his life, but he was loath to give Kennath back his staff. He could
not be defenseless again. “We will fight our way out,” he told the
others and was shocked by the weariness that came from his own
voice.

Byrn created a barrier that blocked the
doorway. “Go to the window,” he commanded and Sane and Kennath
readily obeyed. The stone around the window shifted away at the
young sorcerer’s command until there was a gap in the wall large
enough for all three men to jump out of… and straight to their
deaths two hundred feet below. “No time for the stairs, but I have
another way for us to get down. This is a variation on the fire
golem spell,” Byrn told them and then added under his breath, “I’ve
never tried this with two people before.”

Sane expected to be surrounded in a cocoon of
rock or dirt, as he had been when Byrn whisked him away from the
orcs in Everec. Instead Byrn grabbed him tightly around the waist
and did the same with Kennath. “Jump!” he shouted, but neither man
obeyed, failing to understand the logic in their savior’s command.
Instead, Byrn hauled them both over the edge and into the open
air.

Kennath screamed in fright, but Sane managed
to hold his fear at bay, trusting that Byrn knew what he was doing.
By the gods, he hoped Byrn knew what he was doing.

Wings of flame, each one twice the length of
a man, sprang from Byrn’s back and he flapped them in an attempt to
gain altitude that was only marginally successful. Heat gusted
below them with each flap providing extra lift as their descent
slowed and they began to chaotically fly like a wounded bird.

A fortuitous gust of wind swept them up into
the air and the trio of wizards soared on the wings of fire even
higher. Flying was a simultaneously liberating and terrifying
experience and Sane found himself looking down on the castle
grounds as they quickly flew overhead. A mad laugh burst from his
lips and he wondered if this was some fantastic dream. They began
to descend towards the castle’s protective wall and sailed over it
easily before coming to a landing some distance away. Byrn’s wings
evaporated into the air and the streets suddenly seemed very dark
for their absence.

“You’re the Firehawk,” Kennath pointed at
Byrn. “I had heard rumors from across the Great Sea that the
Firehawk had returned to save the dwarven magicians, but put no
faith in it.”

“I helped the dwarves,” Byrn admitted, “just
as they helped me to get back here. There will be plenty of time
for that later, but first we need to get out of the city.”

Byrn led them for some time until Sane was
well lost within the warehouse district of Mollifas, but the older
sorcerer followed his younger counterpart without question in part
because he feared that if he stopped to think or rest even for a
moment he would not be able to get his old bones moving again.

“Are you alright, sorcerer?” asked Kennath,
but there was a hard edge to his tone that warned Sane that
Kennath’s concern was more for himself than for Sane. If he were to
slow the younger magicians down, then Kennath would not hesitate to
abandon him. “Perhaps I should hold that for you,” he reached for
the staff and Sane pulled away reflexively.

“Back off, Kennath,” Byrn told him
flatly.

“Not to be ungrateful, but, Firehawk or not,
why should I listen to you, Baryn?” Kennath asked. After clearing
the castle gate Byrn had done away with the old man disguise, but
Kennath knew the young sorcerer by no other name.

Byrn smirked to himself, “Feel free to go
your own way,” but Kennath decided to follow the sorcerers, at
least for a little while longer.

Soon, they reached an old, abandoned
warehouse and Byrn led them inside. The building was mostly empty
except for a small pack of supplies that Byrn had stashed there a
few days earlier. The pack contained some fresh fruits and jerky
along with several changes of clothes. Byrn gave out the clothes to
his companions and some of the fruit to Sane.

“Eat up,” he said, “We need to be on the move
soon before anyone realizes that we are no longer on castle
grounds.”

Sane thanked him and hungrily took a bite of
an apple. He nearly wolfed it down to the core. Something seemed
wrong. There was something missing, but Sane could not put a finger
on what that might be. Sari! His heart skipped a beat in worry.
“Byrn, where is Sari? Is she alright?”

“She is well,” Byrn told him, “but Sari
decided to stay with her own people. She said it was time that she
remembered how to live as an elf. Our war is not her war and her
people need her now. Shatala is ill.”

Sane nodded. “Sari was young for an elf when
I first met her and that was nearly forty years ago when she
decided to follow me to the world of humans. She has spent more
time among our kind than she has her own people. Perhaps it was
time for her to return.”

Byrn pulled a wooden rune from one of the
packs and placed it in Sane’s open hand.

“This is the rune that I made for her long
ago so that she could return to the Red Tree Clan,” Sane said
eyeing the wooden chip.

“Sari asked that I give this to you once you
were rescued,” explained Byrn. “I can finish things in Aurelia. I
even have the backing of the king and queen to find a peaceful
solution assuming your attempt on Janus hasn’t change their
minds.”

“That is what you meant when you said that
you risked everything to save me,” deduced Sane. Byrn nodded.

The old sorcerer felt spent beyond his years.
He was in his mid-sixties now and only had another decade or two if
he was lucky. Byrn did not truly need him. Perhaps he should retire
to the elven kingdom and live out his days-

Kennath snatched the wooden rune from Sane’s
open palm and grabbed the staff at his feet. “If you’re having
second thoughts, I’ll be glad to take it,” Kennath laughed and
vanished from sight before either of the sorcerers could react.

For a long time nothing was said, then Sane
smiled wanly, “I guess the decision has been made for me. For a
moment, I seriously considered using it, but in a way I am glad. It
would be a shame not to see this through to the end.” He stood up
and stretched his weary bones. “We should purchase passage
east.”

Byrn pulled a short stick from a pack and
gave it to Sane. Power pulled from the sorcerer into the object and
he looked at Byrn, “What is this?” It was like a traditional staff,
but so much smaller that it could be hidden up a magician’s
sleeve.

“It is a wand used by the dwarves. Can you
imagine them using a staff as a human would? The thing would be far
too cumbersome to be properly wielded.”

Sane flicked the wand with his wrist and an
icicle appeared at the end and fell to the floor. “It will take a
little getting used to, but I thank you nonetheless, Byrn.”

The younger man nodded in appreciation and
fished around for a few coppers from his pocket and cast an
illusion on them so that they appeared to be gold coins instead.
“This should get us far from the city, but first I have a friend to
collect. He should have been here by now.”

“Who is this friend?”

“A boy by the name of Kaleb. He is an orphan
from Colum who I crossed paths with recently.”

“Is he a magician?”

“No, just a boy in need of help.”

After collecting up the packs, they headed to
the inn where Byrn and Kaleb had been staying. The plan had been
for Kaleb to meet them at the warehouse, but he never showed. Byrn
was worried, but he did his best to hide his concern.

After a few minutes Sane asked, “What do you
think the Red Tree elves will do to Kennath when they find him in
my place?”

“They do not take well to surprises or
unexpected visitors. He is probably already dead,” Byrn answered
showing no concern. His thoughts were still with the boy.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Sane told
him in agreement.

The inn was completely dark when Byrn and
Sane arrived. It was to be expected since the moon still ruled in
the sky and morning was hours away, but the quiet and overwhelming
darkness left Byrn with an ominous feeling. The door was barred at
night, but it was of little concern when he could move the bar on
the other side with a thought.

The door opened without complaint and the
sorcerers entered to find the common room in complete darkness. The
growl of Sane’s stomach as he looked longingly towards the kitchen
broke the silence in the otherwise empty night. He sheepishly
grinned at Byrn who was unsure whether to be annoyed or humored by
the old man at the moment.

The second floor was no different and Byrn
held his breath as he turned the knob to his room. Kaleb could have
overslept. It was very late after all and he was a young boy. No
doubt he was not used to waking at odd hours or staying up late as
an adult would be. It was in a magician’s nature to be untrusting
and paranoid, especially in these difficult times. It was how most
of them managed to survive outside of the kingdom’s control. Still
even knowing that it was probably all in his head, it was difficult
for Byrn not to trust those instincts. He was about to tell Sane to
be ready for anything when he noticed the wand held at the ready in
the old sorcerer’s hand. They nodded to each other and Byrn pushed
the door open.

The room was as dark as the rest of the inn
had been except for a few rays of moonlight that made their way in
through the windowpanes. Kaleb sat facing the door and a man
wearing a brown traveler’s cloak stood above him. The boy was bound
to the chair, but the man held a knife pointed downward where
Kaleb’s neck and shoulder intersected.

“Byrn Lightfoot, it is an honor; an honor to
bring you to justice that is. You don’t remember me? That is ok.
You were asleep the last time I saw you. My name is Donovan Pommel
and I was once a ranger captain under the service of your mother in
Everec.” His voice was even as his Kenzai masters would have taught
him. He took the sir name of Pommel as an apprentice to the Kenzai
Order. Their names were determined by their mastery within the
Order similar to magician titles with Pommel being the title of an
apprentice up to Bladepoint or the master rank.

He continued, “I thought it was you that day
in the streets when you saved this boy, but I couldn’t be sure
until now. You hadn’t used any magic, but I could feel the energy
coming off of you then just as it does now. It is
unmistakable.”