The Mage's Tale (4 page)

“Let us go together, then,” said Nathan. “You and I. We’ll see all the world.” 

Morigna said nothing.

“From one sea to another,” said Nathan. “From the Three Kingdoms to the grasslands of the manetaur.” Morigna could picture it inside her head, from the maps in the Old Man’s books. “From the east to the west, from the sunrise to the sunset. What do you say?” 

She hesitated, and wondered why she hesitated. There was nothing for her in Moraime. Her parents had been dead for twelve years. She had no friends within the walls of the town. She loved magic, loved learning spells and developing her skills, but the Old Man was a capricious teacher. 

She would not miss him…and she would not miss Moraime.

“Yes,” said Morigna. “Yes, of course I’ll go with you. Wherever we want.”

“We’ll need to see the entire world, of course,” said Nathan with a grin. “And after that, once we are wearied from travel, perhaps we can find someplace quiet to settle. Somewhere with not too many people, but plenty of deer.”

“Aye,” murmured Morigna. She found the thought pleasant. The Old Man had taught her a spell to filter her blood, and adapting it to keep herself from becoming pregnant with Nathan’s child had been simple enough. The thought of settling in Moraime as Nathan’s pregnant mistress, in the midst of those cold and suspicious townsfolk, had been ghastly. And she had seen enough animals being born to know that birth was a bloody and painful and dangerous business. 

But if they settled someplace far from Moraime, a place where they could live in peace…then she would gladly bear Nathan’s child. As many as she could, in fact. 

She could have a family again.

“You’re crying,” said Nathan. He looked chagrined. “Did I say something?”

“No,” said Morigna. She blinked, wiped at her eyes, and laughed. “Well, yes, but you said the right thing. It’s just…those are lovely thoughts. And…yes, of course. Yes, I will go away with you.”

He grinned and kissed her. “I thought you might.”

###

The next morning Nathan departed for Moraime to gather what few possessions he needed.

And then they would journey south together. He wanted to see the great city of Cintarra along the coast. According to the Old Man’s books, a hundred thousand people lived within Cintarra’s proud walls. The thought boggled Morigna’s mind. A hundred thousand people? She simply could not imagine that many people in once place. 

She had little enough to pack, so once she finished she wandered the hills near her cave, watching the trees and the slopes. A strange feeling filled her, and Morigna realized that she was happy. 

For the first time since the dvargir had come through the cottage door, she was happy. Not content, but happy. 

It was a strange feeling, but wonderful.

“I am always suspicious of smiles.”

Morigna’s mood soured.

She turned and saw the Old Man standing next to a lichen-spotted boulder, his ragged gray coat hanging loose around him. 

“I was enjoying the pleasure of my own company,” said Morigna, “but then you had to come and spoil the party.”

He offered no reaction to her barb. “It has been weeks, my dear child, and you have not come to your lessons.” 

“I haven’t felt the need,” said Morigna.

“I suppose not,” he said, scowling, “given that you have been apparently occupied with…other matters.” 

“Have you been spying on me?” said Morigna, but she already knew the answer to that.

The Old Man sneered. “The hunter? I suppose he is a strapping sort of fellow, though utterly lacking in intellect. What one could talk to him about, other deer entrails, I cannot imagine. But perhaps that is just as well. You look as if your brain dribbled out of your ear when you talk to him. Perhaps you prefer gazing raptly at an idiot while he talks of turkey spoor to the mysteries of magic…”

“Do not,” said Morigna, her voice hard, “insult him. Ever. Or you and I are finished.”

“Fine,” said the Old Man. “So what do you intend to do, hmm? Move to Moraime and bear a half a dozen of his brats?”

“No,” said Morigna. “We are leaving, and shall never return.”

The Old Man blinked. “Leaving? To go where?” 

“Anywhere we want,” said Morigna.

“You…you have no skills,” said the Old Man, and for the first time in the twelve years Morigna had known him, he looked flustered. “How will you eat? You’ll have to become a prostitute to survive. You…”

“We can both hunt and track,” said Morigna, “and I have lived alone in the wild for years. We know how to take care of ourselves.”

“You do not!” said the Old Man with a growl. He stepped closer and pointed a bony finger in her face. “And I have not spent years training you and preparing you only for you to run off into the wild, you ingrate!”

Morigna slapped his finger out of her face. “Preparing me? Preparing me for what?”

But the Old Man said nothing, a vein throbbing in his temple.

“Did you think I would spend the rest of my life living in the hills?” said Morigna. “Is that why you took me in? So you would have a maid to wait upon you in your imminent dotage?” 

“I require nothing,” said the Old Man. “But you have not yet finished your training. There is so much more I can teach you. I…” 

“Then why haven’t you?” said Morigna. “There are things you could have taught me, I know, but you haven’t. You’re afraid I’ll use them against you.” She sighed and let out a long breath. “I am…grateful that you took me in after the dvargir murdered my mother and father, but let us be honest with one another.” 

“I insist upon it,” said the Old Man, voice dry.

“We detest each other,” said Morigna. “I cannot stand you, and you irritate me to no end. It is time we parted ways.”

“Ungrateful child,” said the Old Man. “You turn your back on the wonders I offer?” 

“Yes,” said Morigna. “Farewell, Old Man. I wish you joy in your life. Assuming you can still find any.”

She walked away from him without a word, and she felt his eyes digging into her back.

###

The next morning Nathan Vorinus returned, and Morigna took her pack and departed her cave for the last time. 

“We’ll head south,” said Nathan, walking through the undergrowth. “Coldinium is on the way to Cintarra, and perhaps we’ll stop in there.” He laughed. “Jonas talks about Coldinium so much, but he’s never been there. Then we’ll the road past the Lake of Battles to Cintarra.” He thought for a moment. “I assume there is a road. All the maps in the monastery's old books say so, but the books are hundreds of years old. Maybe the Frostborn or the urdmordar or something destroyed out the roads.” 

Morigna smiled. “Yes, I’m sure the Frostborn and the urdmordar conquered Andomhaim simply to wage war upon the High King’s roads. Perhaps…”

Nathan went motionless.

“What is it?” said Morigna.

Nathan pointed, and Morigna saw a deer grazing near a stand of pine trees at the foot of a rocky hill. She smiled, and he grinned back. They were, after all, in no hurry, and some meat to start off their journey would be welcome. Nathan reached for his bow, strung it, and set an arrow to the weapon, moving with the calm, fluid movements of the practiced hunter.

He released the arrow, and the deer moved at the very last second. Instead of slamming into its heart or throat, the shaft plunged into the deer’s flank. The beast took off at a limping run, leaving behind a trail of crimson droplets.

“Damn it,” said Nathan, lowering his bow. “I should have made that shot.”

“It is not your fault,” said Morigna.  “It moved just as you released.”

“Well, I hit it, at least,” said Nathan, starting forward, and Morigna followed suit. “We should find it and put it out of its misery.”

Finding the deer would not be hard. The trail of blood droplets got bigger the farther south they went. If they waited long enough, likely the deer would bleed out.

They followed the trail for another hour, and then Morigna came to an abrupt halt.

“What is it?” said Nathan.

“I don’t think,” said Morigna, “we should go any further.”

Nathan frowned. “We are close to the Old Man’s cottage, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” said Morigna, pointing, “but that worries me more.”

A tall, rocky hill rose up ahead, its sides cloaked in pine trees. At the top of the hill stood a double ring of tall, black standing stones, some supporting lintels to create archways. Strange carvings and scenes adorned the sides of the menhirs, showing robed figures torturing and killing humans and elves and halflings. 

Even without working a spell, Morigna sensed the faint presence of dark magic from the menhirs.

Circles of such standing stones stood scattered throughout the hills. The dark elves had raised them in ancient times, the Old Man had warned her, using them to augment their mighty sorcery. The urdmordar had destroyed the dark elven kingdoms long ago, but their standing stones remained, loci of dark power to draw the foolish and the reckless.

And the surviving creatures of the dark elves, the urvaalgs and the ursaars and worse things. 

Nathan did not seem alarmed. But, then, he could not sense the malevolent power sleeping atop the hill.

“They’re deserted,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve passed by this hill a hundred times, and I’ve never seen anything moving on it.”

“But you’ve never entered the circle, either,” said Morigna. “Come, let us be on our way. The deer will bleed out eventually.” 

“I wounded the deer,” said Nathan, “and it is my responsibility not to leave it in pain. Anyway, I don’t think the deer could have made it much farther.”

He kept going, and Morigna whispered a curse and followed him. To her alarm, the trail led up the side of the hill, towards the black menhirs. 

“We should turn back,” she said, her unease growing. 

“Once we’ve found the deer,” said Nathan. He shook his head. “Animals usually avoid this hill. The poor beast must have been maddened by pain to come here.”

“And we are mad to follow it,” said Morigna.

They reached the crest of the hill, and Morigna grabbed Nathan’s arm.

“Don’t go any further,” she said. “Not another step. Don’t enter the circle. You can’t sense the dark magic here, but I can. It’s not safe. Damn the deer, Nathan. Let’s just go.”

“I think,” said Nathan, his face tight, “that you might be right.” 

She followed his gaze and flinched. 

A massive bloodstain marked the ground just within the outer circle, and Morigna saw bits of fur and meat and bloody bones lying here and there, a grisly trail leading to the inner circle. A low earthen mound rose within the circle, supporting a massive altar of black stone. Upon the altar rested the deer’s head, its dead eyes gazing into nothingness. 

Someone had torn the beast apart with brutal power.

“We should go,” murmured Nathan. “Now.”

“That is what I have been telling you,” said Morigna. “We…”

She saw the rippling from the corner of her eye. 

Morigna whirled and saw the air at the base of a menhir ripple, the distorted blur coming closer. She summoned power and flung out her hands, a column of acidic mist swirling around the blur.

A snarl of fury filled her ears, and the distortion resolved into a hulking black shape, a ghastly mixture of wolf and ape, its fur bristling, the talons on its paws razor sharp, its harsh crimson eyes fixing upon Morigna with malice and hatred…

“Urvaalg!” said Nathan. “Run! Go!”

He pushed her, and they sprinted down the hillside, pebbles and pine needles scraping beneath their boots. Morigna risked a glance over her shoulder, and saw the urvaalg bounding after them with terrible speed, its muzzle twisted into a snarl. With horrifying clarity she saw that they would not make it, that the urvaalg would overtake them before they could get much farther. Morigna gathered power for another spell, intending to turn and attack the urvaalg so Nathan could escape…

Instead, he shoved her.

Morigna stumbled, barely keeping her balance as she tumbled down the hill. At last she caught her balance and spun, watching as Nathan charged the urvaalg with his hunting knife. The creature sprang upon him with a snarl, its massive jaws clamping around his throat.

Crimson blood flashed, and Morigna screamed. She gathered her power and drove her will into the urvaalg’s mind, commanding it to release Nathan, to flee and trouble them no more.

The urvaalg dropped Nathan and looked at her, his blood smeared across its misshapen muzzle. She felt its rage and hatred through the mental link, its realization of her as the greater threat. 

The creature bounded down the slope toward her, leaving Nathan motionless upon the hill. Morigna watched it hurtle towards her, watched her death run toward her down the slope.

A slope wrought of rocks and earth she felt through her magic.

Morigna screamed in pain and fury and cast a spell, all her power reaching out to claw at the hillside.

The side of the hill exploded as tons of earth and stone ripped free and cascaded onto the urvaalg. The creature had time for one startled roar, and then disappeared into the avalanche, dust billowing everywhere.

Morigna took one step forward and blacked out.

###

When she awoke, her head throbbed and pulsed. She had never used that much magic at once, and it had taken a physical toll. Then she remembered the urvaalg, and scrambled to her feet in a panic, half-expecting to feel the creature’s jaws close around her throat at any moment.

A pile of broken stone filled the ravine, ripped from the side of the hill by her spell. A pool of dark slime spread from its edge, and Morigna saw one of the urvaalg’s paws jutting from beneath a boulder. Normal steel could not harm the creature, but apparently that protection did not extend to a dozen tons of rock. 

Nathan’s knife had not hurt it…

Morigna raced up the torn slope, her heart hammering. Surely the urvaalg had not hurt him that badly. She had lured it away before it could hurt him much…

Nathan lay upon his back, gazing at the sky. He looked calm.

Or as calm as a man could with his throat and parts of his chest missing.