Mageborn Page 6

By the time Wren had completed her tour and then eaten with Tianne in the dining hall, it was early evening. Throughout the day Tianne explained the rules of the Red Tower and Wren committed them to memory. Most were common sense, such as staying away from private areas and only using her magic when supervised by a teacher.

  To her relief Wren discovered she wouldn’t be expelled from the Red Tower if it took her a long time to grasp the basics. She would be allowed to progress at her own pace and, since she would be a student for an indeterminate number of years, a few more made little difference.

  Unfortunately her relief was short-lived when she discovered another reason expulsion never occurred. Accidents with magic often resulted in either a crippling injury or death. Having come very close to losing control a few times, Wren appreciated the explosive power of magic if left to run wild. She also understood why the nameless town was a mile away from the Red Tower. Perhaps that was why the walls of the school looked relatively new. They could have been ripped apart countless times by new students learning how to tame the magic within.

  At least finding out she couldn’t be expelled had answered one of her many questions, but it didn’t lessen her apprehension. She had nothing to relate it to from her past experience. Magic was a total unknown. At least she had that one thing in common with all of the other students. It made her feel slightly less isolated than when she’d first arrived.

  “If you’d like, I can still be your guide,” offered Tianne. “Just until you find your way around,” she added.

  “That’s very kind. Thank you,” said Wren feeling that she couldn’t refuse, despite having memorised the layout of the grounds. Besides, it made Tianne smile and it was clear to Wren that she needed to feel useful. She seemed lonely and they both needed a friend. Finding herself alone for the first time in her life, far from home, she was more than a little scared and Tianne’s easy manner was making it easier.

  Throughout the day Wren had seen how most of the other students had looked at Tianne. They still blamed her people, the Zecorrans, for all those who had died during the war and somehow that meant it was her fault as well. It was the worst kind of prejudice and Wren had no time for such idiocy.

  “I hope that we also become good friends,” said Wren, trusting she didn’t sound needy.

  “I’d like that,” said Tianne. “You’re very easy to talk to.”

  After their evening meal they had a little free time before bed. In need of some solitude Wren went to the temple devoted to the Blessed Mother. Temple was a grand word for the cramped room with two benches and a small idol. But it was quiet and peaceful. The other student, a young boy of eight or nine, said nothing the entire time Wren was there, for which she was grateful. At times silence was a blessing.

  Wren prayed for courage, to see her through the days ahead, and strength to keep the despair at bay that was welling up inside. Her father had always been there for her, but now she had no one to turn to for comfort. She’d never felt so alone in her life.

  The idea of a fresh start was still appealing, but as she prayed in the temple on her first night, all her thoughts were of home and everything she’d lost. Silent tears traced their way down her cheeks and the misery inside made her gasp. After a while it began to subside leaving her feeling hollow. When Wren looked up she realised she was alone. The young boy had slipped away unnoticed at some point. In need of company she wiped her face carefully before leaving the room.

  When she returned to the dormitories Wren was amazed to see a dozen lanterns fixed to the walls shining with a magical blue light. None of the other students seemed to notice or care. It was only Wren who paused to inspect them.

  Peering closer at the lanterns she narrowed her eyes and focused on the swirl of energy within. At first she saw nothing unusual, just a pulsing blue glow. After a few seconds she could see beyond the surface to the matrix within. Wren was surprised at its incredible simplicity and elegance. A glowing strip was decorated with a collection of circular nodes. These glowing elements flew around the tiny magical pathway, only to loop back on themselves, unable to escape and thus maintain the light without the need to feed more energy into it from the Source.

  Wren studied the light for a while longer, trying to picture it in her mind. She hoped that eventually she would be able to create something similar.

  Moving away from the lanterns she noticed the other students were sitting around their beds in pairs or groups, talking, laughing, reading, telling jokes or playing cards or a game of Stones.

  “Wren, this is my friend, Danoph,” said Tianne. The tall boy from Shael had the familiar golden skin of his people and their lithe build. He also seemed burdened by a terrible weight and the sadness behind his eyes was palpable. This tragic element also seemed common to the few people she’d met from Shael. All of them had been refugees, unable or unwilling to stay in their own country after all they’d endured. Their suffering during the war had been the worst. Many towns and cities had been utterly destroyed when the country had been invaded by an army of Morrin and Vorga. She’d heard stories about the death camps and fire pits full of bodies that vomited thick clouds of black smoke into the air for days. They were a broken people trying to rebuild their country from the ashes.

  When Danoph held out her hand Wren was pleased with herself for not hesitating. As they shook she felt a peculiar tingle on her skin and yanked her hand free. It felt as if she had been stung by an insect.

  “Sorry, I’m still learning how to control my magic,” apologised Danoph. “Are you all right?”

  Wren inspected her hand and found no marks. “I’m not injured.”

  “They put the lights out soon. You should get ready for bed,” said Tianne.

  Feeling conscious of her body, Wren changed into her nightshirt in the washroom and quickly slipped into bed beneath her sheets and blanket. She felt several sets of eyes watching her and few of them seemed friendly.

  Not long after she’d settled down the other students quickly packed away their belongings and slipped into their own beds. A moment later a figure appeared in the doorway and silence filled the room. Wren couldn’t see him very clearly from her bed, but she could just make out a tall man with dark hair. He clapped his hands once and all the lanterns were extinguished. The room was plunged into darkness but as Wren’s eyes adjusted she could see some light filtering in from around the edges of the curtains.

  Just as she was settling down to sleep light flared behind her eyelids and she sat up, looking around in alarm. Half a dozen students had summoned light globes of their own and some were resuming their previous activities, playing cards or Stones. The magical lights were muted compared to the fixed lanterns, no doubt to avoid detection. Wren guessed from the lack of surprise from those around her that this happened often at night. Determined to get some sleep, she rolled over and closed her eyes.

  A second later she was flung out of bed and found herself sliding across the cold stone floor. She only stopped when she collided with one of the walls and the back of her head cracked against the stone. The shock quickly faded as the chill from the floor seeped into her hands and buttocks. Instantly awake she scrambled to her feet.

  A crowd was gathering and somewhere towards the rear she could hear Tianne and Danoph trying to reach her. More muted globes flared into being until the whole area was flooded with washed-out blue light. It made all of those wielding them look pale and sickly, like fresh corpses. A tall boy stepped forward from the crowd. He was grinning and full of bravado. Arrayed behind him she could see more like him, loyal minions doing their best to look tough and keep others back. The faces of the other students were already troubled.

  “Leave her alone, Brunwal,” hissed Tianne. Her voice was muffled and Wren assumed someone was keeping her back.

  “Come on,” said Brunwal, gesturing for Wren to approach. “Show me how strong you are.” When she didn’t respond Brunwal grinned and flicked his left hand towards her. Something slapped her across the left
cheek hard enough to sting. Wren touched a finger to her lip and it came away with blood.

  “You’ve made her angry now,” said one of Brunwal’s cronies.

  “I will not fight you,” said Wren. People booed but she ignored them, focusing on Brunwal. Rather than getting angry he seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s against the rules,” she explained. If anything he seemed even more baffled by her response.

  “So?”

  Words and thinking were clearly not important to him. Rather than confuse him further with logic she chose to say nothing. Brunwal balled up his right hand before gesturing towards her with it. Something crashed into her stomach and Wren fell back against the wall, gasping for air.

  “Fight me,” he shouted. When she’d regained her breath she stood upright and waited. Her inaction seemed to taunt him and he lashed out again, catching her on her right cheek. “Fight me.”

  Wren said nothing and did not fight back. She did not reach for her magic or attempt to ward off any of his blows.

  “Fight me, coward,” said Brunwal, growing more annoyed by the second. “Fight me,” he shouted over and over again. Each time he said it another invisible hand slapped her across the face or punched her in the torso. Blood ran freely from her face and one eye was starting to swell shut. Her chest and ribs ached with every breath and still he continued to beat her.

  Soon she couldn’t stand upright so he hit her in the back instead. Brunwal was still shouting when Wren fell, her face pressed against the ground. It was soothing and didn’t seem that cold any more. Her eyes started to close and her body felt so heavy.

  Somewhere else, Wren thought she heard a commotion and raised voices. Her head was full of wool and all of her attention remained focused on the blood which trickled from her mouth across the floor. She watched it spread into a pool and wondered if Brunwal would beat her to death while the other students looked on.

  She heard shouting and crying, there was a loud crash and then silence. Darkness rushed in and she felt nothing.

  CHAPTER 6

  Habreel had no interest in the architecture of Herakion, the capital of Zecorria, but even he paused in front of the First Church of the Holy Light. It was a massive building that dwarfed every other structure in the city, even the church of the Maker.

  Once the enormous cathedral dedicated to the Lord of Light had been a gleaming jewel at the centre of the city. Now, while the outside looked mostly the same, the interior had been transformed from a place of worship for the wealthy into a refuge for the poor. Rededicated to the Lady of Light, the faith, much like the church, had dramatically changed.

  Every bit of gold leaf inside the church had been stripped from the walls, melted down and sold. Every commissioned painting had gone to specialist collectors and every piece of exotic furniture now decorated the homes of the wealthy.

  A line of beggars and homeless stood outside the church, patiently waiting for whatever food the priests could provide. The rich didn’t come here to pray any more, which was a shame, as the church needed their donations.

  A spindly figure in a white frayed robe approached Habreel with a wooden plate. It took him a moment to realise the man was a priest of the Lady of Light and not another beggar.

  “Can you spare any money for the poor?”

  “Of course,” said Habreel, fishing out a few coins and then simply emptying his pouch onto the plate.

  The priest’s eyes widened at the silver coins and started to fill with tears. “Bless you, Sir. May the Lady of Light shine on you.”

  Habreel shook the man’s hand and moved on before anyone else tried to thank him.

  The other sights of the city were lost on him, although he was grateful for the tree-lined avenues, which offered patches of shade on such a warm day. The expensive shirt and jacket itched but they were necessary for his audience with the Regent.

  The palace gates were guarded by six men and women dressed in colourful yellow and blue striped armour. Their silver breastplates were gleaming and the bright cotton sleeves would have been comical if not for the owners’ reputation.

  The Zecorran Royal Guard were famed for their weaponry skill. Trained since early childhood they were an elite unit which the Regent had re-established after the Mad King had banned them in his paranoia. All of the Guards held their halberds casually and seemed relaxed, but Habreel had the impression they were waiting to pounce.

  Four of the Guards casually studied him while the other two inspected his papers. Habreel was thoroughly searched before one of them escorted him to the next gate where he was passed off to another Royal Guard. He had a brief glimpse of the palace before he was ushered inside the building and down a gloomy and sparse corridor. He soon realised this part of the building was designed for servants and visitors. The broad, well-lit and beautifully decorated parts of the palace were elsewhere.

  Habreel was searched twice more before being deposited in a well-furnished room. Three other people sat waiting, two richly dressed merchants and a minor noble. Despite their plush surroundings none of them looked particularly comfortable. Perhaps they resented being treated like everyone else.

  An hour later a servant appeared at the door and one of the merchants was led away for his appointment. Taking it as a good sign that it would soon be his turn, Habreel checked his appearance in the mirror. It was another two hours before the second merchant was led away. By that time he and the remaining noble had drunk all of the water and were starting to feel a little cooped up. Conversation seemed like an obvious solution to pass the time, but the noble had stared down his nose when Habreel had asked for his name. After half a dozen more questions were met with nothing but snorts of derision he gave up. Instead he rehearsed again in his mind what he wanted to say and all of the possible arguments he expected from the Regent. He knew the man was powerful and Habreel carefully chose his words. Any suggestion that he was trying to manipulate or influence the Regent would be dangerous and possibly deadly.

  Eventually the door opened again and Habreel sighed, expecting that the noble would be led away next.

  “Come with me,” said the servant, gesturing at Habreel. The nobleman started to protest but the servant closed the door in his face.

  Using the servants’ corridors again Habreel was led on a long winding path through the palace to a room much like the one he’d just come from. Only instead of the Regent he found a tall Zecorran woman waiting for him behind a desk that was laden with scrolls, books and papers. She was dressed conservatively in a grey dress with a high neck and long sleeves. Her face was lean and her mouth pinched, as if she’d found life far too sour for her liking.

  “Sit down,” said the woman, gesturing at the seat in front, while she finished writing something. Reading it upside down was difficult but it looked like a letter from the Regent which she then signed. Dipping the end of a wax stick into the flame of the candle on her desk she sealed the letter and then stamped it with the royal crest.

  “The Regent doesn’t have time to sign everything personally,” she explained. “I apologise for the wait, but the palace receives a lot of requests for an audience.”

  Habreel was confused. “Will I be able to meet with the Regent today?”

  “There seems to be a misunderstanding. I’m Bettina, one of the Regent’s clerks. I will assess your request and if I think it’s worthy of his time, I will send for you on a separate occasion.”

  “Very well,” said Habreel, trying to collect his thoughts. None of his rehearsed conversations had included this. “I wanted to speak to the Regent about the growing problem of magic. In particular the Seekers who are roaming across the country.”

  Bettina scribbled down a few notes, dipped her pen in the inkpot and gestured for him to continue. “I’m listening,” she said, her pen poised above the page.

  “Recently there have been some worrying incidents. A number of children have been taken away to the Red Tower.”

&n
bsp; The clerk looked up from the page. “Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”

  “Before the war, few children were being born with magic. As I understand it, the school in Shael had been abandoned for nearly twenty years. A few years ago someone moved in and started to rebuild. Then the tests with Seekers started up again.”

  “Every nation in the west and Seveldrom signed a decree allowing them monthly access.”

  Not wanting to get into the legality of Seekers, Habreel continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Now, whenever a Seeker visits a town or village, they normally come away with at least one child who has the spark of magic.”

  Bettina raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you accusing them of doing? Abducting children? Or lying about them having magic?”

  “It’s possibly the latter, but I think it’s something more sinister. I think they’re giving magic to children.”

  Silence filled the room as Bettina mulled it over.

  “And how would they do that?” she asked, putting down her pen. “Why would they do it?”

  “I don’t know, but until a few years ago the Red Tower was a ruin. Now that it’s been reopened they need students. Over the last six years, they must have taken several hundred children to the school.”

  “I will admit that my knowledge of magic is limited,” said Bettina, “but I thought a child was either born with magic or not. I was told it manifested during, or just before, puberty.”

  “If that’s true, then how do you explain the increase in the number of children being taken away to the school?”

  Bettina laughed and Habreel felt a trickle of sweat run down the sides of his face. “I can’t, but that doesn’t mean the Red Tower is conspiring to steal children and somehow give them magic.”

  “If a child is born with magic and does nothing with it, then eventually it withers and fades away. It is my belief that the Seekers are waking this dormant magic with their monthly visits. However,” said Habreel, forestalling another argument that he could see coming. “Whatever the cause, if we do not get rid of the Seekers, then the number of children with magic will continue to grow. I’m sure you’ve heard about accidents where children have lost control. But let’s pretend every child with magic is found by a Seeker before there are any more incidents. That means the Red Tower will continue to grow in strength. In just ten or twenty years’ time they will have an unbeatable army of mages.” Bettina’s eyebrows lifted in what he thought was surprise so Habreel decided to press on. “You saw what half a dozen mages did during the war. Imagine what a hundred or a thousand fully trained mages could do.”