Mageborn Page 13

  The crowd was not quite what Akosh wanted, numbering barely a hundred, but it would have to do. Dozens of women with their screaming children, a few dying miners with the damp lung and one or two nervous parents stood waiting for the Seeker to stop talking. The woman was rambling on about the honour of going to the Red Tower, but no one was really listening. A few locals were muttering and casting dark glances at the woman in the gold mask. Akosh heard a few people whispering about the Red Tower stealing their children for their private army. It seemed as if Habreel’s people had been busy indeed.

  Most of the people in the crowd stood with eyes that had glazed over. She wondered what they were thinking about. Probably cabbage.

  When Yacob was called up Akosh moved through the crowd to stand beside Jelkin, the other teenage boy she’d been coaching. She waited until Yacob saw them together and then whispered a promise of what she would do to the boy when they were alone in her room. Yacob was too far away to hear the words but Jelkin’s inane grin was enough. Yacob clenched his jaw and fists so tight his knuckles turned white.

  Akosh walked at a steady pace until the crowd was out of view around a corner and then ran the rest of the way back to the tavern. She could feel the build-up of energy in the air as she climbed onto her horse and rode out of town at a gallop. Behind her there was a loud whistling sound, as if something had flown right past her ears, and then a detonation. She felt the earth shake and quickly dismounted, leading her skittish horse along the road.

  Somewhere in the distance behind her she could hear screaming and a grin stretched across a face. She was just about to mount up again when she felt a persistent tugging of a different kind. Her smile faded.

  Moving to the side of the road, she quickly tied the reins of her horse to a tree. She didn’t want him wandering off while she was distracted.

  Akosh closed her eyes and bowed her head. When she opened her eyes again she was standing inside a long banqueting hall. The walls were fashioned from huge slabs of white marble and at regular intervals were fireplaces tall enough to walk into without stooping.

  A huge table ran down the middle of the room and on either side were two rows of identical looking chairs. But each was vastly different from its neighbour and no one would accidentally sit in the wrong chair. At the head of the table was a huge chair that was far too big for even the largest man at the unusual gathering.

  There were no visible doors into the hall, and despite the lack of lanterns the room was filled with a warm glow. In this place, many of the usual rules did not apply. Apart from the table and chairs, everything else was an elaborate illusion.

  Dozens of people, all shapes and sizes, were appearing out of thin air. No two people resembled each other and yet this was a family gathering of a kind. Akosh knew that appearances were deceiving, especially here, and it was a good idea not to underestimate anyone. If she really wanted, Akosh could look beyond the masks everyone was wearing and see their true faces, but she resisted the urge. Some of them, in particular the eldest, were terrifying to look upon.

  There were a few faces which she acknowledged but those she considered friends were noticeably absent. Others didn’t seem aware as even here a hierarchy existed and those towards the far end of the table had no idea about her and others like her. They were too far removed and believed themselves involved in more important matters.

  The old sailor, Nethun, made his way towards the far end of the table and Akosh made sure to give him a wide berth. She also kept her eyes averted when he looked in her direction. He was almost timeless and infinitely more powerful than her. Fear was a natural response and quelling the terror in her gut took some effort. As one of the oldest there, he called the meeting to order and Akosh took her seat, nodding politely to the two people on either side of her.

  One was enraptured by Nethun, staring at him with adoration, while the other was looking at the Lady of Light with a puzzled expression. She had grown significantly in power over the last few years. That was the reason she still sat towards the far end of the table. Akosh remembered when the Lady of Light had been just a mewling girl, doing as she was told, desperate to go unnoticed. Now she had so many devout followers it was hard to believe the Lord of Light had ever existed. No one ever talked about him any more and every one of his images had been erased from all churches of the Holy Light. It showed Akosh how much could change in a short space of time. All it required was patience and cunning. Or a lot of luck. The Lady of Light didn’t have the intelligence to have orchestrated her rise to power, but now that her star was in ascendance she was doing everything to hold on to it.

  It also confirmed what Akosh had long suspected. Someone at this table was pulling strings behind the scenes.

  Over time many of those gods around the table would naturally fade when their star waned. The loyal shrank in number. The churches crumbled and became ruins that were eventually torn down. The new was built on top of the old and their names became nothing more than a line or two of text in a dusty history book.

  But others disappeared suddenly, ahead of time, for overstepping their bounds. The Lord of Light was one. He’d been on the rise, sat at the far end of the table, and a few years ago had vanished. Akosh glanced at the large empty chair at the head of the table. It was possible. But it seemed more likely that someone else was responsible. It meant her caution was warranted. She was right not to trust a single one of them.

  Vargus, the Weaver, and Nethun were talking about magic and Seekers, but Akosh wasn’t really listening as she already knew everything. It was necessary that she attended these meetings but they were an exercise in tedium. Those on her level were never called upon to express an opinion and yet they were required to be here. If she didn’t attend her absence would be noted and that would prompt an investigation which she wanted to avoid. She had the feeling that was why several others showed up every time, looking equally bored as her. Everyone had secrets they preferred stayed hidden from those around the table.

  Akosh felt a prickle across her scalp as if she were being watched. Glancing up the table she saw the meeting was carrying on as normal, but one of the more powerful beings was looking in her direction.

  The conversation flowed around Elwei but the old pilgrim said nothing. His face was partially hidden in shadow inside his headscarf, but Akosh could see one of his eyes gleaming in the dark. She knew almost nothing about him, except that he was very old and, most important of all, very powerful. Nethun and Vargus sometimes asked for Elwei’s opinion and they seemed to respect him which told her to be wary around him.

  Akosh politely inclined her head but he didn’t react. His focused attention unnerved her and she tried not to fidget. Doing her best to ignore him she turned her attention back to the discussion. They were talking about the growing tide of hatred and fear directed at the Seekers, and in turn any magic user, but were at a loss to identify its source. As usual they directed Vargus to investigate while the rest did nothing and were reminded not to interfere with the fate of the mortal races. Eventually Akosh risked looking at Elwei and was relieved to see that his attention had moved elsewhere.

  Taking it as a reminder that there were beings far more powerful than her, who could snuff her out with little effort, Akosh knew she would have to be extremely careful moving forward. Her plan, and her survival, depended upon it.

  CHAPTER 15

  The town of Maldorn in Yerskania was not one Tammy had visited before but, after half a day of walking its streets, she had a sense of it. The townspeople lived fairly comfortable lives, situated on a main trade route and not too far from the southern city of Rojenne, which generated lots of opportunities. In remote towns and villages, young people often felt they had only two choices. Stay at home, and labour in the industry of their parents, or leave behind everything familiar and risk it all. For those living in Maldorn a city was only a few days’ ride and the young could get a taste of what was available without the all or nothing approach. All of this gave her ho
pe that when the Seeker returned the townspeople would treat her differently.

  This was the second Seeker she and Munroe had sought out together. The first had been located without difficulty and advised to hide his mask and avoid the monthly testing of children in the area. He didn’t like it, especially as it could put children at risk, but he saw the wisdom in keeping a low profile for the time being. He’d also promised to watch for outsiders causing trouble and send word to the Red Tower and the Khevassar if he saw anyone.

  Striding around the town in her Guardian uniform during the day Tammy had received admiring looks and greetings from everyone. The people of Yerskania respected her station and several young people in town had questioned her about becoming a Guardian of the Peace. Living on a trade route they were more aware of other countries and customs than in a remote town. She took their interest in other people as another encouraging sign of a community with an open mind.

  When night fell she made her way to the Black Lion, the tavern where she’d booked a room. As she sat at the bar nursing a mug of ale the general mood of conversation in the room proved to be troubling.

  While the locals had not personally experienced any issues with magic or Seekers, there was still a general air of concern and fear. The latest stories, which had arrived earlier in the day with passing merchants, had now spread throughout the town. A whole village in Zecorria had apparently been destroyed. Allegedly every house had been levelled and every stone crushed, as if beneath a giant’s hand. No one said a child was responsible for the destruction, but every tale involved wild magic being unleashed in the presence of a Seeker. People were certain of that much.

  Magic was unnatural. There was also widespread agreement on that. When a dissenting voice in the room mentioned that magic could be a good thing, they were quickly shouted down by others. People reminded them of the war and all that had happened. How easily the Warlock had used his dark arts to manipulate the rulers in the west into uniting for war. How thousands had died in the conflict and the resulting effects were still being felt to this day, ten years later. The civil war in Morrinow continued to rumble along and parts of Shael remained lawless or utterly abandoned. It would take decades for the world to recover and some of the scars would never heal.

  In such a hostile room in the west no one dared speak of the Battlemages and all that they had done to save lives in the same war. Tammy wondered if conversations in the taverns of Seveldrom were any different. Did they celebrate and honour the Battlemages who had died to protect them? Or were they also cursing their names and anything connected to magic? For years the name of Balfruss had become a curse that few would say out loud in case it drew his attention. The display of power he’d used to kill the Warlock had frightened people. Afterwards Balfruss had voluntarily gone into exile, but if he’d chosen to stay, who could have stopped him?

  Inevitably conversation in the tavern turned to the Seeker due to return to Maldorn the following morning. People were afraid of what might happen during the test. They were afraid for their children, in case they had the curse of magic, but also for themselves. Many had heard stories about people being injured during a test. One or two stories might be labelled as fanciful, but when tales of children dying were sprouting up all over the world like weeds, they could not be ignored.

  For thirty years no child in Maldorn had been cursed with magic. Since the tests had restarted a few years ago four children had been taken away to the Red Tower. It wasn’t hard for Tammy to see why they might blame the Seeker instead of the ingrained fear and hatred of magic. When someone suggested banning the Seeker from the town no one at the table disagreed.

  After a quick meal and more conversation that left a sour taste in her mouth, Tammy went up to her room. Munroe was waiting for her inside, hunched in a blanket in a comfy chair by the window. It was pouring with rain and in the distance there was the occasional rumble of thunder. Wet strands of dark hair clung to Munroe’s face and she irritably brushed them aside. Her whole body was rigid with tension.

  “That bad?” said Tammy, sitting down opposite her.

  “Almost everyone in town is scared. They’re trying not to show it, but it’s there, below the surface.”

  Walking around in uniform meant that people would talk to Tammy, but only in a certain way and not about everything. It also kept them focused on her while Munroe went unnoticed as she chatted to people in town. She could pass for just another curious visitor trying to catch up on the news as she travelled through.

  “Every time I heard a story being retold, it’s grown worse,” said Munroe, shaking her head. Stray drops of rain fell from her hair onto the blanket. “First it’s ten people dead in Zecorria. Then twenty. By tomorrow it could be a hundred. I looked for the source and it turned out to be a couple of merchants who’d recently passed that way. They’d heard the stories from other merchants. They gossip worse than teenagers.”

  In this instance, malicious or not, news of the accident was spreading fast.

  “Everyone is nervous about tomorrow.”

  “We should go and see the blacksmith tonight. To warn her,” said Munroe, shrugging off her blanket and standing up. As far as everyone in town was aware, Leonie was only a blacksmith. However, she also took regular trips to other communities to test the children in her other role as a Seeker for the Red Tower.

  “I think that’s a bad idea,” warned Tammy. “We might draw unwanted attention to her.”

  “I can sneak in. No one will see me.”

  “Are you sure? Can you guarantee that?” asked Tammy.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then we should wait until morning. So far I’ve not seen anyone suspicious, but there are a lot of strangers in town. Any of them could be involved in spreading the paranoia about magic. Or they might be watching for anything unusual.”

  Munroe wasn’t convinced. “She needs to know what she’s walking into.”

  “We’ll go first thing in the morning,” said Tammy. “The testing isn’t until midday, so we’ll have a few hours to talk with her.”

  Munroe finally relented, sitting down again and folding her legs up onto the chair. She looked cold and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. They’d been riding for a few days now, travelling from one town to the next, and Tammy could see that she wasn’t used to long days in the saddle.

  “Maybe you should get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

  “I’m fine,” said Munroe, stifling a massive yawn. “All right, maybe just a little nap.”

  She insisted on staying in the chair so Tammy covered her with another blanket. Munroe was asleep in moments but when Tammy lay down she found sleep evaded her. Worries about not only tomorrow but where all of this was leading preyed on her mind. Eventually she fell asleep but her dreams were equally troubled by images of terrified children being pursued by mobs of adults waving weapons.

  Inevitably her thoughts strayed to her son and she wondered what would happen if one day he developed magic. In her dreams he became the child being chased by a bloodthirsty mob.

  After an early breakfast, Tammy and Munroe made their way to the nearest smithy. There were two blacksmiths in Maldorn and the one they sought had just returned from a trip to the southern city of Rojenne.

  Despite arriving home late the night before, they found the front doors of the smithy wide open and the smith and her apprentices hard at work. Two tall lads, who looked like twins, were busy working together on a huge lump of something. One held the metal on the anvil with a set of tongs while the other swung a huge hammer. A short distance away a burly woman with short, dark hair and broad shoulders was directing the striker. She left them to it, tucking thick gloves into her belt, as Tammy and Munroe came in through the front door. The heat from the forge hit Tammy like a wave and a layer of sweat formed in her hairline. She could see why the smith and her apprentices were only dressed in thin cotton trousers and shirts. They also had on thick aprons and gloves but despite their pre
cautions Tammy could see they all had several burn scars. Every window and the back door was thrown open and still the building felt like they were standing inside a giant oven.

  “Something I can help you with?” asked the smith, glancing at her Guardian uniform. A frown briefly wrinkled the smith’s forehead. Tammy couldn’t blame her. She and Munroe made an odd couple.

  “Is there somewhere we could talk in private?” asked Munroe, having to shout to be heard over the constant clanging.

  The smith frowned again but led them down a short corridor to a cramped office. There were multiple charcoal drawings pinned to the wall of weapons and an intricate set of metal railings. Beside each drawing was a set of measurements in precise handwriting. A workbench with a few small, half-finished items and several ledgers sat at the back. The rest of the room was filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowing with tools which were all labelled. It spoke to Tammy of an organised and practical mind.

  There was no door on the room so Tammy leaned against the frame, effectively blocking anyone’s view inside. In the background they could still hear the clang of the apprentices, but they were far away enough that their conversation couldn’t be overheard.

  “You’re in danger, Leonie,” said Munroe, starting the conversation in her usual abrupt fashion. “I’ve come from the Red Tower to warn you.”

  The smith said nothing and just stared at Munroe. Then she glanced over at Tammy and raised an eyebrow. “Is this a joke?”

  “I can feel your connection to the Source,” whispered Munroe, although there was no need with so much noise in the other room. “Can’t you sense the echo in me?”

  Leonie rubbed a hand across her shorn head and heaved a long sigh. “What do you want?” she asked.

  Tammy noticed she’d not admitted to anything and was still being cautious.