“Good night,” Jiron says from his position by the door.
“You too,” replies James as the room plunges into darkness with the vanishing of the orb. Only the glow from the crystals remains.
Crack!
Jared comes awake at the noise and quickly looks around the room. The light from the rising sun is just beginning to shine through the room’s window. Jiron is sitting on the bed next to James who is surrounded by a faint glow.
“What’s happening?” he asks as he gets to his feet. Coming over to the bed, he discovers a glowing crystal gripped in James’ right hand, another lies on the bed next to him. His other hand moves to the edge of the bed and drops a plain white crystal to the floor where it breaks into two halves.
“They’re trying to locate him,” whispers Jiron.
“Is he okay?”
“So long as the glow remains, he’s fighting them,” explains Jiron. “Keep an eye on the door, wouldn’t want anyone coming in just now.”
Moving to the door, Jared puts an ear to the door and listens. “No one’s out there,” he says.
“That’s a relief,” mutters Jiron.
“Why?” Jared asks as he returns to the bedside.
“You see, when mages work magic, others who are nearby can sense it,” Jiron explains. Gesturing to James, he says, “This has been going on for awhile and if there had been one near, they would have been here by now.”
“You mean he could attract a mage from the Empire?” he asks.
“Yes.”
They watch him as he lays there and combats those seeking him. The glowing crystal in his hand gradually loses its glow until…
Crack!
…its glow completely disappears and shatters in his hand. After dropping it on the floor with the other, he takes the remaining crystal in hand and the battle continues.
“Doesn’t look like much is happening,” comments Jared after several more minutes.
“If they knew exactly where he was, it would be more dramatic,” Jiron replies. “Now they know he’s missing and are trying to punch their way through whatever deception he’s got going.” Turning to gaze at Jared, he continues. “Think of it like there’s a pebble hidden beneath a large blanket and you have to keep poking the surface of the blanket until you discover where it is hiding. Once you locate where the pebble is, then you use all your force to tear through the blanket until you have the pebble.”
“I don’t understand,” he says.
Jiron smiles at him and says, “I didn’t either at first. But he’s explained it to me often enough that I think I get what he means.”
The glow from the crystal in James’ hand flares as the light within begins to drop dramatically. Muscles in James’ body start to twitch as he struggles against the power of those searching. His breath becomes more labored as sweat beads across his forehead.
“What should we do?” Jared asks, the sight of what’s transpiring on the bed is starting to unnerve him. Battle hardened though he is, magic is an altogether different matter and has always unsettled him.
“Wait,” replies Jiron as he grabs a cloth and begins dabbing the sweat from James’ brow.
Suddenly, another loud ‘crack’ is heard as the last crystal shatters completely. “That’s not good,” mutters Jiron.
Jared picks up James’ sack and begins to open it thinking to get him another crystal.
“Don’t!” yells Jiron as he snatches the sack from his hands. “We don’t know which ones he can use. Take out the wrong ones and you could kill us both.”
Gulping, Jared stares at the sack as if it contained live vipers.
A moan escapes from James and both turn their gaze to him. Sweat is now streaming down his face, breath coming in ragged gasps. It doesn’t look as if he’ll be able to hold on for much longer.
A cry, a massive spasming of his muscles and then he flops back down only to lie still. Whatever was going on has obviously stopped.
“Is he dead?” Jared asks in a shaky voice.
Moving closer, Jiron lays his ear to James’ chest. After a brief moment, he hears the lub-dub of his heartbeat. Glancing to Jared, he says, “He’s alive.”
Sighing, Jared comes forward. “Thank goodness,” he breathes with relief.
“Go downstairs and have them bring food and ale up to us,” Jiron tells him. “When he wakes up, he’ll be ravenous.”
“Okay,” he replies and then exits the room, closing the door behind him.
Jiron rests on the bed next to his friend, still worried about the outcome. Did they find him or not? Have to wait until James comes to before he finds out. Getting up, he moves to the window to keep an eye out.
High atop the Tower of the Magi, Kerith-Ayxt stops his impatient pacing as Aezyl, Mage of the Third Circle enters his tower. “Well?” he asks.
“He’s nowhere to be found milord,” Aezyl.
“How is that possible?” he shouts in anger.
“We do not know,” the mage replies, head bowed in submission. “Twenty slaves died in the attempt, but we were unable to find him.”
“Fools!” he cries as he moves across the room to the window overlooking the School of the Arcane. Not so much seeing as thinking, he tries to come to grips with Aezyl’s failure. A Mage of the Third Circle is no meager practitioner of the art, but someone of great power. Few ever manage to ascend from the Second, most who make the attempt fail to survive the tests.
A rogue mage on the loose, and one who is able to counter whatever they have to throw at him. Where did he come from? That’s an answer many would like to know. A number of Mages of the Fourth Circle have already fallen to him, and none of the others wish to challenge him.
The last three he sent to kill him were but Mages of the Second Circle, though each had great talent. They were promised ascension to the Third if they killed this mage, this was to be their test. He witnessed the battle which had taken their lives and couldn’t believe the relative ease with which his mages were dealt with.
Since the disastrous battle at Lythylla when their forces were completely annihilated, he’s had a mage keep a constant eye on him. It cost the life of a slave every six hours to maintain the magic necessary, but slaves he has in plenty.
Until this morning, all was going well. Then, when the sun rose over Korazan, he was gone. Black Hawk and his army were on the move along the north road, most likely heading back to Madoc. But where the mage was is anyone’s guess.
“Milord?” the Mage of the Third Circle asks.
Turning back to face Aezyl, Kerith-Ayxt says, “Convene the Assembly of Masters.”
“Yes milord,” he says with a bow. Backing from the room, he leaves to carry out his master’s command.
Once Aezyl has left the room, Kerith-Ayxt says a word of power and a wall disappears revealing a room on the other side. Moving into the room, he crosses over to the far wall where several shelves are lined with aged tomes. Removing one extremely old tome whose cover was made from the skin of a king, or so the story goes, he places it on the small table beneath the shelves.
Sitting down, he creates light with a thought and takes great care when he opens the fragile tome. Yellowed pages that have survived millenniums turn slowly under his fingers until he finds what he’s looking for.
Aekion, the Seeker. A powerful being from the plane of fire that has done the bidding of the High Lord Magus in the past, though not during the reign of Kerith-Ayxt. His predecessor had told him the tale of the last time the Seeker had been summoned centuries past to deal with a grievous threat to the Empire.
The summoning of such is not without its risks and never to be undertaken except in the direst of need. While the Assembly of Masters gathers in the Great Hall, he commits to memory the words and gestures of the spell. Even the smallest slip and the summoner will be taken as Aekion returns from whence he came.
He studies the passage until the bell tolls signifying that the Assembly of Masters have gathered in the Great
