The mage from nowhere, p.9
The Mage From Nowhere, page 9
Tarak nodded. He had the same feeling. He hurried to make it back to the castle to ensure he was not late for his first and possibly last lesson with Leon the Shit Talker.
Tarak had hoped that he would be the last Deviant or Ancient to step foot in Dorrinthal for a long time. Did he really believe there was another Ancient here, someone as powerful as Basael? He knew too little about the state of the world…and too little about Ancients. Where did they come from? Basael had never revealed the truth to his children, but Caarda had a theory. He said that Basael was born human and came to great power because of his connection with sorcery. If that was true, then it was very likely that there were Ancients elsewhere. And if that was true, then it did seem likely that one might be drawn to this place now that all the Deviants were gone.
Why did Tarak feel like it was his responsibility to keep an eye on things here? Just earlier he wished to leave this place without even a look back.
He couldn’t deny that something was going to happen here, in this land. Why now did he care?
He muttered a curse. It was Arthur. Some of what he said sounded like it could be true, like the part about an Ancient wanting to change sorcery to his will. It was what Basael had done.
So Tarak believed what others considered to be the ramblings of a madman. Who did that make a fool, Tarak or everyone else?
CHAPTER NINE
The early afternoon appeared to be a busy time at the castle. Tarak was attempting to enter behind a small army of guardsmen escorting someone clearly important. Tarak followed closely behind them as Rick waved everyone through. Rick led them into the courtyard, where he stopped.
“Only Trevor Chespar will be permitted to see the king,” Rick announced. “The rest of you may wait in the courtyard.”
Tarak made his way around to get a look at this Trevor Chespar. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties, a very tall fellow, like Tarak. He did not match Tarak’s girth, but it didn’t seem like he was missing it like some thinner young men who were too tall for their own good, as if they’d been stretched beyond capacity. Trevor was well-dressed in a red cloak that looked as if it repelled dirt. He walked toward the castle keep with an urgency to his step.
A beautiful girl caught Tarak’s eye as she emerged from the castle keep. The princess? he wondered. She mostly dressed the part, with an elegant blue dress fit with hanging sleeves and a silver band around her waist. She seemed much closer to Tarak’s age, with soft features but something hard in her amber eyes as she blocked Trevor from entering the keep by standing in front. There was one glaring thing about her, however, that made Tarak think this might not be the princess after all, and that was a very deep neckline.
Trevor stopped in front of the young lady, who appeared ten years younger than him. “Callie, what are you doing wearing a dress like that? Step inside where prying eyes cannot see you.”
“It was the only way for you to notice me,” she complained as he ushered her into the keep. Trevor attempted to pull her farther in by her hand, but she stopped just within the doorway and yanked it out of his grasp. “You only ever come to speak to my father. We are engaged. Doesn’t that mean something to you?”
“I am busy trying to keep the kingdom from starving. I have told you this a hundred times.”
“I don’t ask for much. An outing here and there, a meal, anything. I tried to sit with you and my father during supper yesterday, but the two of you told me to leave. Do you know how that feels?”
“Callie, you are too young to understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Sixteen is not too young to understand what is happening in our kingdom. You are the one who doesn’t seem to understand something. You have no idea what an engagement is supposed to be like. It is not this, a woman ignored!”
“A woman,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes. “You are not acting like one.”
Sixteen was only one year younger than Tarak, if he didn’t count the four hundred years that went by in the blink of an eye. It was difficult to imagine anyone treating him the way Callie was being treated without him socking that person in the chin, and it seemed that this young lady might’ve had the same idea as she balled her fist.
“Princess,” Rick said as he quickly intervened, no doubt foreseeing the same event. “Have you met Tarak, son of Caarda?”
The princess loosened her fist. She and Trevor turned to Tarak as he approached. Trevor, meanwhile, quickly undid his cloak and held it over the revealing cleavage of the princess.
She scoffed and pushed the red cloak out of the way. “Does he look like someone who has never seen a pair of breasts before, Trevor?” she asked, then curtsied before Tarak.
“Callie…” Trevor uttered in a growl of a whisper but seemed to stop himself from whatever he was about to say.
Tarak bowed, and Trevor bowed stiffly as he eyed Callie with scorn.
“The son of Caarda, you must have quite the power with sorcery.” She spoke as if completely emotionless even though her round cheeks were still red.
“I am to think your father heard by now that I have very little skill with sorcery.”
“Perhaps that is true, but there is much my father hears that I do not.”
Trevor glanced at Callie as if expecting a look, but she didn’t take her eyes off Tarak. Gazing at her right now, he saw nothing that demonstrated her anger, and yet everyone here could feel it. It was actually quite impressive. Tarak could never hide his anger in such a way, as if screaming in silence and without even a trace of emotion.
The princess was quite short and slim except about the hips, but she stood with confidence and strength. It was easy to picture her doing something rude and aggressive, such as grabbing her betrothed by his nether regions and twisting. The thought seemed to be just behind her eyes.
Tarak found her far and beyond more attractive than any girl he had laid eyes on since he had been transported into this hellish nightmare. She exuded excitement almost as much as she did beauty.
Why lie to himself? His attraction came from the fact that she was not just beautiful but an engaged princess, and he was a poor, unskilled sorcerer. There wasn’t a single thread he could follow that would connect the two of them, even if it was just for one clandestine night. That was the appeal, and something he always despised about himself but did not know how to fix. It was what drove him to his first and only love, Oreca, because she was classes above him. Not to mention beautiful, like this princess. The amount of work and sacrifice it took for her just to notice him was not something he wanted to go through again. Best he didn’t pursue this impossibility.
“I apologize, but I’m late to meet with the king,” Trevor said. “Callie.” He took her hand, and her edges softened as she looked way up at him with her large eyes. “I will find time for you soon, and you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she replied, sweet as sugar. Then she kissed his cheek as he leaned down.
“Please change,” he added as headed up the stairs.
The guard stood with the princess as the three of them watched Trevor go in silence. The princess turned to Tarak. He dutifully kept his gaze above her collar. He was not known for being a gentleman where he came from, more of a bastard, and he wasn’t sure if he could change that. But he would try.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, princess. I have never met someone of your stature before.”
“What about your father?”
“My father is an arse.”
Well, that didn’t last long.
He was surprised when she put her hand over her mouth and laughed. “How so?” she asked.
“He forced me into a bubble where time practically stopped for four hundred years. It felt like a mere moment to me. My world disappeared. Everyone I knew is gone. Had I known my father was capable of something this heinous, I would have fought him. He did not tell me, however. It is his method of raising his son. His decisions are unnegotiable.”
Her eyes remained wide as she stared up at Tarak.
“I have overshared,” he realized.
“No, I’m only surprised. I couldn’t imagine Caarda would do something like that.” She lowered her voice. “Though I imagine my father might be capable of something similar.”
“Princess,” the guard chastised.
“Oh Rick.” She spoke with a flitter of her hand. “He doesn’t have to know about every little transgression of mine.”
“In that case, it’s probably best that I take my post in the courtyard.” Rick walked off.
Callie had a wry smile. “Are you blessed with immortality like your father?”
“Not immortality, says my father. A life centuries long, most likely. It is something he regrets telling me.”
“Centuries! Holy glory, I don’t see how that’s something he could regret telling you.”
“He claims that now there is no urgency for me to become someone.”
“Oh, I could see that happening.” She glanced over her shoulder at the empty stairway, then looked back and lowered her voice. “I certainly wouldn’t have as much urgency to marry. Wait, how can your father have such a regret when he can see the events of the future?”
“He cannot see every possible version of the future at any given time. My understanding is that only a few paths are available to him. He cannot predict how his words and actions might change one of these paths until he has already acted, or in some cases, when he is about to act.”
“That’s confusing.”
Tarak nodded. “Yes, that describes my father well. Fortunately, my interactions with him have been few and far between.”
“Then how have you spent your days?”
He shrugged. “Sleeping off my nights, mostly.”
“Nights? Doing what?”
“What you might think by looking at me.”
Her eyebrows lowered. “You bewilder me. You speak like a man of class, but sometimes you say things of a scoundrel.”
“I am all scoundrel, my dame. This is what a four hundred-year-old scoundrel sounds like…apparently.”
She laughed, then turned to look at him from the sides of her eyes. “I’m getting the feeling I should keep my distance from you.” She ended with a hint of a smile and seemed to be uninterested in actually leaving. Perhaps she was not one who usually did as she should.
The same could be said about Tarak, but he was trying to change that. He gasped as he remembered the Shit Talker.
“My first lesson, I am late! You distract me, princess, with your…” His gaze accidentally fell for the briefest of moments. “Charm and wit.”
She chuckled with a shake of her head. “I’m not sure I could ever get used to the contrast between the words you speak and what I feel behind them. How old are you, Tarak?”
“I am far too old for you, young lady. Over four hundred years.”
“I am not asking for any semblance of romance! I am engaged.” She huffed. “I am merely curious, and those four hundred years in the time bubble do not count.”
“Tell me where I might find Leon the instructor and I will answer you.”
“He is likely to be in the great hall, upstairs in our training quarters. That is where new sorcerers have their first lesson.”
“My gratitude. I am seventeen.”
“Is that true?”
“It is. I am not a liar…when it matters.”
She gazed into his eyes for a moment, then seemed satisfied as she gave a nod.
He bowed. As he turned away, he encountered Leon and nearly fell backward.
“This is why you are late?” screamed Leon. “So you can flirt with the princess, with the engaged princess?”
“Priorities, instructor. I was on my way, but I could not be rude to such a fine lady.”
“You don’t even have the decency to try to deny it!”
Tarak shrugged. “Like I said, I am not a liar.”
Leon grabbed him by the back of his neck. “You had better impress me within the hour, or I might decide you are not worth the trouble.” He tossed Tarak away, forcing him to stumble. “The son of Caarda—you no doubt have a knack for sorcery but you have done nothing with it. Let’s find out if you are hopeless or just lazy. I hope for your sake it’s lazy. That I can fix. Come on.”
Tarak had always wondered the same: Was he hopeless or lazy? His lessons with his father had been fruitless. Had it been Tarak’s fault or Caarda’s? His father was always so dense about everything.
“Sorcery is poetry and mana is quill,” Caarda would say. “Write what comes to you, but strive for excellence.”
“What does that mean?” Tarak had asked. “I am to understand how to cast a fireball from that?”
“If fire is the tool of your destiny, it will come.”
“Let us start with light.” Tarak knew he’d like some light while illegally foresting.
“Feel your mana. Connect to it. Then connect your mind to light. Now connect the two of them.”
Tarak remembered taking a long while to try to figure out what that meant.
“How?”
“You must feel every step from start to finish.”
“All I feel is an urge to kick you in the shin.”
Nearly every lesson had gone that way. Tarak wasn’t sure he could handle his frustration if Leon was to give instruction in the same way. At least Caarda did not show anger. It gave more room for Tarak to become emotional. With Leon, however, there was no room. It was like trying to say something when someone would never shut up.
He followed Leon into the great hall and up a flight of stairs. They walked down the hallway and into a large room where a massive table seemed to be the centerpiece. Upon the table were a few things that Tarak had never seen before.
There were two objects similar to each other in appearance. Both were about the same size and had a glass panel at their front and an opening on top. Sprawled out on the table near them was a chart with varying colors and alphabetic letters listed above each panel of color. There had to be at least fifty different squares of color ranging from dark blue to bright white.
“This is where I am to learn sorcery?” Tarak asked. The princess had said the first lesson would be indoors, but Tarak had trouble envisioning it as he stood in the right place. All of his lessons with Caarda had been outside, away from life of all kinds in case a spell went awry. Even if there was very little furniture in here, there were still many nice things that could be destroyed, like the silken curtains framing the tall windows, and even the thick wooden table itself that all the devices sat upon.
“If you can pay attention to me half as well as you do a scantily dressed girl, then yes, you might actually learn something.” Leon picked up the two boxes with the glass panels. “This is a manamtaer and this is a vibmtaer. Normally they tell me exactly what kind of sorcery might become available to you with training versus what will remain out of your range.” He set them down. “But things have changed recently. Now more experimentation is needed because I don’t know what the fuck are the limitations of any sorcerer these days.” Leon folded his arms and peered sharply at Tarak. “I admit I’m curious to find out your natural state of mana. Tell me how much you really know about it.”
“I have learned how to feel my mana, if that is what you mean.”
Leon snapped a finger. “Good! That is good! You just saved us weeks of time. Feeling one’s mana is the most difficult part of learning your first spell. Tell me, how easy was it for you to discover your mana?”
“Very easy.”
“Very good!” He slapped Tarak on the side of the shoulder, then picked up the vibmtaer and held it nearby. “Go on, then. Cast it in this direction.”
“How?”
Leon frowned. “You grab it and propel it. Use your mind. You must know this if you can feel it.”
“Well, yes, I have done that hundreds of times in my failed attempts to make a spell with it. Am I to understand this will tell you something about my capability with sorcery?”
“Yes. Now stop questioning and do it. We have a ways to go.”
Tarak shrugged. He shut his eyes and felt once again the foreign source of energy that seemed to emanate from his body. His mind became an arm, gathering it and condensing, freeing the energy from its source. Once he had a good hold, he forced it out in a beam and toward the opening in the box that Leon held.
“Lord and bane!” Tarak yelled as he cast a dull beam of light out of his hand. He jumped out of his chair and grabbed his hand by the wrist. He looked over at Leon, who glanced up at him, still in his seat, clearly perplexed.
Tarak had done the same thing in the courtyard and seen nothing. There had probably been too much sunlight to notice. This room was just dark enough.
“I made light!” Tarak didn’t know why he was still yelling. He was too shocked to stop. “Or did you do something to cause that?”
“No, and you startled me so much that I couldn’t see the display of the vibmtaer.” Leon set down the device. “It’s pointless anyway because you are clearly casting two notes instead of one. I told you to cast only your state of mana, one note.” He held up a single finger. “Do not split it into two notes. I don’t understand, Tarak. Why would you lie about your ability to make light only to do so now during this test?”
“I have little idea what you are saying.” Tarak looked at his hand again. The more he thought about what happened, the more he realized that he knew—he knew—that the light had come out of him. Something had come together in his mind when the spell came to fruition, like a shirt button sliding into place.
“You’re pissing me off,” Leon said. “Clearly you are an elemental mage and are attempting a trick of some kind.” Leon pointed. “I know what it is. You want to learn another school of magic. That is why you claim to know nothing of sorcery, but you actually have some knowledge of elemental sorcery.”
“Incorrect. I still have no idea how that beam of light came out of my hand.”
Leon sighed. “What am I going to do with you?”
Tarak ignored him for the moment and decided to cast again. Now prepared, he maintained the light and took a closer look. It seemed to be more yellow than white, a spreading beam that disappeared in the window’s daylight. Weak it was, but easy to maintain. Tarak laughed with glee. He didn’t care that Leon thought him to be a liar. His first spell, and light! He had always wanted to make light. Why was it so easy now? Before, it was impossible.
