Magician Reborn (Book 2) Read online

  Throughout history Universal Balance has been threatened many times as one side gains dominance over the other. Fate intervenes to maintain order, awakening the Shadowmage who is reborn time after time, most often as an ordinary person, unaware of the great potential locked within. But when it becomes necessary, his memory and power re-emerges and he must act to restore Balance, for good or evil.

  And right now, the magician who has possession of the Book is but a short distance away, with two armies between them. General Zedekiah watched as his forces advanced towards the castle; last bastion for the side of light. With the Book of Omnietas in his control the struggle between good and evil would finally be determined. For too long the Light has unfairly reigned over Creation, but soon all that will change, and the Great Balance will be permanently corrected.

  With the latest volley of spells the castle’s protective shield finally gave way in a spectacular display of sparkling energy. Those on the shore began to cheer, but although they had just broken the first layer of defence General Zedekiah knew there would only be light resistance from the defenders. They were about to be overwhelmed and should surrender easily once his forces were within the castle walls, he thought. As he watched, the next phase began. The front ranks of magicians joined hands, and with their powers combined fashioned a magical bridge of inky blackness spanning the water. At first the construction didn’t seem solid, as if constructed with light and shadows, but as the front ranks of soldiers stepped forward they were held aloft and carried across to the walls.

  Midway across the water, with nearly a thousand soldiers now carried on the bridge, a brilliant spear of light fell from the sky, blinding those beyond the castle’s walls. Pure energy fountained down from the heavens, swallowing the entire keep in a maelstrom of scintillating light, and Zedekiah knew his arch-nemesis was responsible for the awesome display of mystical power. Slowly, when sight returned, the entire castle and the island it stood upon had disappeared. Even the soldiers who had begun crossing on the shadowy bridge were gone, apparently destroyed by the magical lance from the sky. But did it also destroy the castle? Zedekiah wondered.

  Surprise was soon overtaken by outrage and General Zedekiah turned to his advisors for counsel. Something impossible had occurred, and he desperately wanted to know what. The four mages comprising his inner circle of advisors briefly conferred with each other before moving off towards the shore. Linking their powers they began magically scanning the area of ocean where the island and castle had stood.

  For quite some time they remained standing there, statue still, deep in concentration. If there was any chance of falsehood or deception they were determine to find it, but as each test was completed they became more certain that the island was simple no longer there. It may not have been destroyed, but none of their spells registered the use of teleporting, phase shifting or invisibility.

  The senior-most advisor cautiously approached General Zedekiah with the report of their findings. “From what we can discern there is nothing there. No trace of magic exists in the area, ruling out the possibility the castle was teleported or shifted out of phase. But judging from the magic used we believe, or are led to believe, the island and everything on it has been destroyed.”

  Zedekiah resisted the urge to smash the dark mages face with a gauntleted hand. “I seriously doubt they would sacrifice themselves needlessly,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “They have to be somewhere, find them, even if it means diving into the water and recover a single stone of that castle.”

  The sound of hurried steps made both men stop and turn to face the newcomer. It was one of the advisors, out of breath, having run the short distance. General Zedekiah maintained control of his anger as he was made to wait while the old man caught his breath. At this moment he was unsure if killing the man outright was worth the potential information he may have. It was a close thing though, and the magician spoke up moments before the desire to seriously maim overwhelmed Zedekiah.

  “It was difficult General,” the advisor said between deep breaths, “but we did manage to detect small traces of teleportation magic from inside what had been the castle’s walls. Unfortunately there were multiple sources and we could not follow each trajectory. It is most likely the defenders escaped before the castle was annihilated.”

  “Very well, it is a small victory nonetheless. Issue orders to the sub-officers we leave tomorrow at first light.” General Zedekiah turned to head back to the command pavilion set up on a nearby hilltop. He barely noticed the guards standing outside. Since the sneak attack last night it had seemed prudent to increase security, and now a dozen soldiers and magicians stood silently in a ring surrounding the large tent. They were irrelevant now that the enemy had fled.

  Inside the pavilion was gloomy and smelled musty, reminiscent of an old grave. With an unconscious wave of his hand several oil lamps suddenly lit, filling the tent’s confines with bright orange light. The extra light would not be appreciated by his servant minion but it could not be helped; Zedekiah needed to rethink this campaign which meant poring over dozens of old maps. With the army moving in the morning he had to have some idea of where to strike next.

  “Suvasthras, fetch me some wine.” From the darkest corner of the tent something stirred. It appeared as though a part of the shadows moved, but as it neared the light it gained definition and substance. Humanoid in shape the creature was dressed in black tattered rags that barely concealed the almost-translucent skin beneath which somehow managed to keep the bones it covered together.

  Shuffling on bare feet composed of little more than skin and bone, the ‘undead’ servant moved to a nearby chest and brought forth a gem-encrusted silver goblet and a crystal decanter of blood-red wine. Placing both on the table furthest from the bright light, the ‘undead’ retreated to the comfort of the darkness. Suvasthras patiently awaited his Master’s next command.

  For a long time General Zedekiah studied the various maps on the table before him. Occasionally remembering the goblet of wine he took small appreciative sips. The vintage was not bad for this world, coming from a cooler region to the west noted for the variety of grapes, but the local populace still needed more training in proper wine-making techniques. Not for the first time did the General yearn for a decent wine from Valaria. Too long had he been stuck here on this planet, but with his home world destroyed there was no chance of ever savouring his favourite drink again.

  The tent flaps rustled as someone entered.

  “General, the men are prepared to march at first light. Do you have any other orders?”

  “Andras, come join me for a drink.” General Zedekiah motioned the mage forward into the light. Suvasthras shuffled forward with another goblet which Andras reluctantly accepted. He had little love for the ‘undead’, but since the General insisted on keeping the creature around he had no choice but to acquiesce. With wine in hand he took his place next to the General and gazed upon a large map of the known lands.

  “Here,” General Zedekiah pointed at a spot, “should be our next staging area. The remaining enemy forces have one final rally point near the Great Forest, and will head there to rendezvous with the Elves. It will be difficult making headway in the forest, however, I have arranged for emissaries to travel to the southern region and parlay with the dwarves. With their support we will be victorious.”

  Andras looked at the map where the General had indicated. The land was shaped like a horn with dense impenetrable forest in the north and inhospitable rugged mountain ranges to the south. He didn’t bother pointing out the obvious; should the dwarves refuse their overture of peace they could very well face a two sided battle impossible to win. Having already suffered far greater losses here on the shores of the Black Sea, without further reinforcements the long-term campaign would ultimately be lost.

  Fighting to stifle a yawn, Commander Andras resigned himself to a long night of planning and futile supposition. Only time will tell if this final desperate push against the enemy
will decide who remains to claim victory. And not for the first time did Andras consider it might not be his side.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bright light chased away the darkness as the tent flaps were pulled aside. Too slow to react, it felt as though pins were being driven through Xander’s eyes and into his brain. Cursing whoever had chosen this inopportune moment to enter he tried to draw some mana to ease the pain in his head, but finding it too difficult to reach the energy through the hazy left over from sleep he gave up. Someone was speaking, but in Xander’s current condition it was all gibberish. With the world slowly rotating in several directions, he managed to channel a small amount of mana for a much-needed healing spell.

  Any left-over alcohol or narcotic in his system quickly disappeared, leaving him feeling a lot better, albeit his dark mood was changed. “Why are you waking me so early?” Xander thought he said, although most of it was muffled by his pillow.

  Somehow, Simon managed to decipher the incoherent message, along with accompanying expletives that sounded very colourful. “Sorry but you’ve slept too long. The elders thought it best if you two got up now.”

  For a brief moment Xander couldn’t remember anything, but as he came fully awake his memory of the recent past returned rather abruptly. “What are you talking about? I just got to sleep a few hours ago after the ceremony.”

  “Which ended two days ago. You two have been asleep here for at least t.”

  “We?” Xander rolled over and discovered he was not alone in the tent. Under several layers of furs and blankets someone else stirred, and a small silver-haired head rose up like an owl, blinking against the sudden light coming from behind Simon.

  “I’ll leave you to get dressed.” Simon let the tent flap fall closed and blissful darkness shrouded the two inside.

  “Two days? That must have been some spirit quest we were on.”

  “Although you may not remember much, you were a special part of my quest Huritt. I thank you for sharing it with me.”

  “Aiyana, I don’t know if what I experienced was a dream or a vision but I did see something. It felt old, like it happened a long ago, but what’s frustrating is I didn’t recognise the people I saw and yet I got the distinct impression they were important. ”

  “The dream quest often reveals something fundamental to who we are or what we are to become. You may have seen something of the past or future.” Aiyana rolled over to look at Xander, but the tent’s semi-darkness hid most of his features.

  “No this definitely felt like a long time ago, and yet I feel strongly tied to this vision, almost as if it were a memory.” Xander finally got up and too late realised he was naked.

  Trying not to laugh, Aiyana averted her gaze to give him some privacy as he dressed. As he left she couldn’t help but smile and remember the good times they had shared over the last two nights, although it was concerning that he didn’t remember much of it. Perhaps as an outsider the dream quest worked differently. Pushing aside such thoughts, Aiyana quickly dressed and sought out her mother. There was much to discuss and little time to understand it all.

  Xander unconsciously kicked a small stone out of his path. “I’m telling you it felt so real, like I was actually there.”

  The two young magicians walked aimlessly about the camp site. It was midday and the usual bustle of camp life seemed subdued today, maybe because the weather had suddenly turned clement and they were preparing for a cold winter ahead.

  “Xander, it was a dream, we all have the occasional one which seems so real even more so because we’re magicians. Granted I may only be a psychic but I just spent the last seven years of my life studying the human mind. I know how it ticks, and trust me, dreams like that are nothing extraordinary.”

  “Yeah I remember the times you used me as a test subject. I still have the occasional nightmare about the bunnies. It was a terrible thing to implant in my mind, and you did guarantee that it would be completely erased.”

  “A minor complication on my behalf,” said Simon sheepishly. “I can always try to remove the bunny nightmare again, although you could also end up a ten year old Japanese school girl.”

  “No erasing then!” Xander glanced nervously at his friend, unable tell if he were serious or not about the school girl thing. “Could you at least do a quick scan? I just want to make sure it was a real dream and not some kind of drug-induced hallucination.”

  “If it will ease your mind then I’ll take a quick peek inside. Is there anything else I could fix whilst I’m inside your head? Get rid of any phobias? I just learned how to make someone quit smoking.”

  “No,” Xander said rather too hastily, “everything is fine. Just look into the dream vision thing.”

  Simon shrugged nonchalantly.

  Finding a relatively calm spot just beyond the campsite they sat down in the short dry grass, legs cross and facing each other. Feeling a little ridiculous, but knowing it to be important for the psychic linking, Xander took hold of his friend’s outstretched hands. At first nothing appeared to be happening, but as Xander relaxed and let his mind go blank he noticed small blurs of colour behind his closed eyes. Trying to focus on the colours was like attempting to catch smoke with your hands. Quickly reaching the point of exasperation, Xander was about to give up, when suddenly the colours grew brighter and gained definition. Images formed in his mind, and he recognised some as flashes of his vision, but they were more like snapshots rather than the usual fluid experience he had before.

  Darkness suddenly blotted out the images, and Xander heard his friend’s voice call out. Awakening from the trance-like state Simon had put him under; Xander knew from the look on his face that nothing special had been found.

  “I’m sorry, it was just a really vivid dream, that’s all I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t worry about it, you did what I asked and even though it wasn’t what I wanted to hear I accept your analysis.”

  “Xander, you’ve always had an over-active imagination, which makes you an extraordinary magician. You seem to always be thinking outside the square don’t feel as though this makes you less special, I’m sure ordinary things happen to the greatest people.”

  “As usual, you’re always right my friend,” he said, seemingly convinced by Simon’s explanation. “Let’s go and see if there’s anything to eat. I’ve suddenly developed quite an appetite.”

  I need an explanation now!

  Calm down, what has happened?

  This assignment you put me on, who in the Hells is he? At first the assignment seemed simple enough, but now I’m not so sure. Things have gotten…complicated. The primary consciousness remains safe behind impenetrable psychic barriers, but other memories are surfacing - impossible memories that he shouldn’t have.

  What kind of memories?

  I’m not too sure what they pertain to exactly. I glimpsed a few earlier, and they feel almost like repressed memories, but different. Older. As I said: impossible memories, usually belonging to someone thousands of years old.

  Are these old memories intruding or affecting his waking consciousness?

  No, I don’t think so. I have him convinced the memories belong to a dream. However, I have serious concerns; should he stay here much longer, amongst these people, something unexpected may emerge or even break past the psychic barriers. The people here have a substance that helps assist the transition between reality and the Dream World, creating a powerful illusory experience they believe is a spiritual quest. If he takes any more, everything we’ve done for the past eighteen years will be for nought. I felt the psychic barriers shift a little while he was on his dream quest; it was like nothing I had ever seen before.

  Continue to monitor the subject, and if necessary take steps to prevent any more contact with the dreaming substance. He isn’t ready for the truth yet and we don’t know what complete exposure will do to his mind.

  I know what it would do! I’ve been warning you all this time of the possible side effect; if his primary
and secondary consciousness don’t properly reintegrate he will go insane. And with his level of power a mad magician is the last thing we would want to unknowingly unleash. The destruction he could wreak would be unimaginable.

  Should that possibility arise you must terminate the subject quickly. Do not hesitate.

  I know what must be done, but it will still be difficult. I’ve known him for so long.

  We understand. Please keep him safe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What you are proposing to do is very dangerous.” The old woman searched about the small tent, looking for something only she knew what. Seemingly at random she would pick up a small objects, a white bone, a striped feather, pieces of string tied into a braid, and move them around the tent as though trying to create order from chaos.

  Xander tried not to fidget on the thread-bare cushion he was appointed to sit on. There were few pieces of furniture in the tent, mostly an assortment of pillows piled on bear skin rugs. Sever large boxes and wooden chests were stacked against the tent’s walls, containing the equivalent of a small knick-knack shop. Old bottles, rusty tobacco tins with faded motifs, fake jewellery and cracked pottery, all haphazardly packed into the boxes as though the old woman had left her last residence in a hurry.

  “I understand the risk involved,” he said in all seriousness, “but I believe it must be done.”

  The tribal shaman stopped her organising and looked over at the young man. In the dim light of a single lantern burning low she saw more than was revealed to her eyes. A brilliant aura of power surrounded him; forged with a strong Will to succeed, tempered with love, but there was also darkness – a stain on his soul that refused to leave. The boy’s life would be filled with greatness, but the price was pain and suffering, and looking at him, sitting there, pretending to make a man’s choice, she almost wished she could simply say no. May the spirits of her ancestors forgive her, she silently prayed. I must do what has already been foretold.