A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) (13 page)

Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes to the large concerned brown orbs and nose of Master Antaigne. His sight normal again, Marcius let out a sigh of relief and would have collapse
d had it not been for the support of the dwarf.

“
The first time is always te worst, lad,” Antaigne apologized, disentangling Marcius’s hands from his arms. “Best way ter unlock nether sight is frustration. Which is why I made ye come out an’ practice despite ter rain.” The dwarf turned around to gaze off into the murky gray distance. Marcius could see deep rips running down the sleeves of the robes where he had gripped them. There was a crimson stain running the length of it, causing Marcius to dip his head in shame.

“
Come lad, we be done fer today. Now that’ve ye have tapped into it, it’ll be much easier ter access. Let’s get out’tve this rain, eh?” The dwarf seemed oblivious to the blood staining his robes, concerned only for Marcius. “Tomorrow I’ll start teachin’ ye ter control that sight. Ye did well today.”

Marcius nodded numbly, the words he had wanted to say having failed in his throat. He was soaked as he followed the dwarf back to the cabin. His hair was matted to the side of his face and his wet clo
thing stuck uncomfortably around the contours of his body. Faerril followed, concern framing every diminutive step. As Marcius considered what had just happened, a deep chill, that had little to do with the coldness of the rain, ran its course up his spine.

What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter 08

T
he days passed slowly after that. True to Antaigne’s word, the subsequent times he tapped into nether sight were not as bad. Gradually, Marcius learned how to process the information being fed to him. He learned the sigils and colors of the various “types” of magic. He learned to reach into eddies and currents of nether, to extract exactly what he needed.

The amount of nether, and consequently the amount of power, available differed from area to area, so he learned to mak
e do with what he had available. The environment affected it as well. Certain areas were awash with nether, while others were barren like a desert.

He learned how to counter the spells of his opponent, for one who could see the canvas it was only a minor t
ask to trip up the gathering of energy. There were ways around this of course. It was something Antaigne made sure to drill into his apprentice. There were no absolutes in the realm of wizardry.

It was during this learning process that Faerril was taught h
ow to hide himself from prying eyes, and although he had not started “talking,” his images were becoming clearer by the day. Marcius spent his time pushing the limits of his magical powers.

All spare time besides that was spent researching known spells, as
well as looking up and learning the art of the Kra’nael. That was the system made up of sigils and incantations Avalene had set up to assist magic users before going into her self-imposed slumber. There were literally thousands of known iterations, which when combined with reagents and varying amounts of nether, could create just about any effect one could wish for.

The possibilities were endless.

Marcius found himself obsessed. There was so much to do, it was overwhelming. He could feel himself becoming stronger, although he still had a long way to go before he could even begin to approach the level of mastery Antaigne enjoyed.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months
. . .

❧　❧　❧

Jared Garalan slowed his lanky gray mare down to inspect the tree, raising his torch high, and his amber eyes took in every detail from the worn bark surface and the browning autumn leaves that decorated its crown. After a few moments of deliberation, he was pretty sure this was the tree Marcius had told him about.

He dismounted and veered off the path, giving the gnarled oak plenty of room as he walked the horse carefully through the thick underbrush. This was smart for him, since the tree was enchanted to
spring to life and attack any large creature that passed it. Jared also made sure to avoid the various explosive sigils that were discreetly hidden along the path, something he would have missed had he not known they were there.

He was looking forward to
seeing his friend. Due to situations out of his control, he had been unable to come up with an excuse to shirk his father’s ever watchful eye up until now, two and a half months from when he promised Marcius he would visit. Fortunately, a recent rash of crime had hit the lower slums in Rhensford, and this caught the attention of his father, of course.

In no time at all, the infamous Bloodhound was off with a band of lawmen to root out any beginning thieves guilds and restore justice. It was a gloomy though
t, but Jared was silently thanking those criminals right now.

Jared hoped Marcius had made some headway in his quest to become a wizard, because Rhensford was boring for him without his best friend there. Every time nobles had any free time, they threw a p
arty. He thought that they must have had lot of free time the last couple of weeks. Due to his father’s reputation and position, every party roster wasn’t complete without inviting Gary Garalan, and of course Jared was forced to come along.

He found such p
arties boring, where rich men and women just went to gossip amongst themselves. He would have been much happier just practicing his swordplay or reading his book.

He was all alone in the Fae
’lorea Forest and had been so for several hours, with only the luminescent pyre flies to keep him company. He had been hoping for a bit of adventure, perhaps a monster attack or something, but so far, the trip had been uneventful. Jared allowed himself to pout. Why did all the exciting stuff happen to others?

Fate must h
ave been reading Jared’s mind, for as he neared the end of Marcius’s instructions and thus, the end of his journey, he saw smoke billowing in the background of the thinning forest canopy. His heart jumped in his throat at the sight. That’s where Marcius was supposed to be!

Dropping his pack and discarding his torch, he managed to somehow tether his ride to a tree while rushing toward the clearing with his sword drawn.  His hope was that it was only the results of the young apprentice
’s training, but his heart told him it was something else.

For once, he hoped he was wrong.

❧
　❧　❧

Lian Realure was a busy man. The steep number of reports on his desk testified to this, and despite the brief break he was allowing himself, he knew he would have to eventually get back to checking them all. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't procrastinate it as long as possible.

The office was designed to be comfortable, a point that Lian had been adamant about when he contracted the carpenters guild. Big and airy, the only
pieces of furniture were the three chairs and his hardwood desk occupying the space in the middle, while a large window framed the outside wall. Every other inch of the place was decorated with the fruits of his travels. Maps hung along with exotic paintings, the dark sapphire blue curtains were down as usual, the only light being the candle on his desk. It was the way he preferred it. This was the place he went to think, to be alone with nothing else but his thoughts and drink to keep him company.

He ran
his rough fingers though his closely cropped brown hair and gave a short-lived sigh. When did the excitement of his youth give away to this? He was just finishing up the last of his glass of rum, when he heard a noise that he had not heard in years. Like the snap of a whip, the candle in his room flickered as if in response. It was the sound of a wizard gating into his room right behind him. The hairs on his neck stood to attention.

Lian tried to turn around in his chair, it might be Antaigne after all, but
he had a distinct feeling that it wasn’t. All people have an aura about them, something that identifies people as surely as a fingerprint. It is what allows a person to know when he is under scrutiny from across a crowded room, the ability to feel the weight of a person's stare.

This was a totally different feeling than the dwarf gave off. Lian's body was frozen, and there was only one person who ever made him feel like this. “
I was wondering when you would visit.” His voice somehow betrayed none of what he felt, though it was a trial just to stop from shaking. “Death is too good you, Erinaeus.” Even saying the name, after all of these years, made him feel unclean.

Finally, summoning every ounce of courage, he managed to stand up and turn around, albeit wit
h a few wobbles. In front of him, clothed in dark azure robes, face concealed by a hood as enveloping as night, stood what was obviously a wizard patiently waiting to be acknowledged. It could have been anybody, but Lian knew that stance. The bearing the figure in front of him exuded a feeling that only one man could give off.

”
Truly, remembered after all these years. . . I
am
honored.” Erinaeus gave a slight bow. He was only about a foot away, his voice just as raspy and dry as Lian remembered, though this time carrying a slight mocking tone.

“
Do tell me what brings you to my humble household?” Lian’s courage was returning, fueled in part by the sheer indignation of this man invading the most sacred of sanctuaries, his home. He knew it was illogical, of course, but anything that stopped him from stammering his words was welcome at the moment. He poured himself another glass of rum, merely as a subtle gesture that the wizard’s appearance didn’t disturb him.

The swirling honey colored alcohol stopped midway to
his mouth; Lian’s arm was frozen from more than fear this time. As he tried to force the glass up, he realized the rest of his body was similarly held at bay. He could only watch as the robed wizard slowly walked around his chair and snatched the cup from his stiff fingers. “Really Lian, don’t you know this stuff will kill you?” Erinaeus set the glass on the table.

Lian was captured in a paralysis enchantment, which introduced a whole other problem to the merchant that should have been obvious the moment t
he wizard ported into his room. Erinaeus had lost his familiar! How did he have the ability to do this?

Lian cursed himself from not noticing earlier, being too preoccupied with the figure from his past to realize the obvious oversight. The epiphany must h
ave registered in his light gray eyes, because the wizard, who had been watching him the entire time, gave a laugh that sounded more like a death rattle.

“
So, the Great Lian Realure finally realizes? Bravo, you
are
every bit as quick minded as I remember.” The voice still carried the hint of a smile. He was obviously enjoying the situation. Lian felt the icy grip on his jaw release, no doubt because the wizard wanted him to speak. “Cat got your tongue, merchant?”

“
What did you do? Your familiar is dead. You shouldn’t be able to do this!” Lian rushed the words out, intent on saying them before the volatile man could paralyze his mouth again. Faster than his eyes could follow, the wizard held his chin in a grip that was even more unyielding than the enchantment that still affected the rest of his body.

“
What did I
do
?!” Erinaeus hissed, bringing his face right up to Lian’s. The fingers were ice-cold, to the point of burning. “I have suffered more than you could ever guess, Lian Realure. Thanks to you, I was stripped of even the most rudimentary magic use. Do you know what it is like to have your very reason for existence
snatched
away from you? Well, you lost yours, too, that day. . . ” the ranting wizard conceded somewhat reluctantly “But unlike you, I searched, I went through terrors the likes you would never know, but I got my familiar back. Though, once again thanks to you, I still suffer. That will change soon. . . ”

T
              he proximity of Erinaeus finally gave Lian the nerve to look up into the face of the man that took the merchant’s own dream many years ago. Though the hood still hid most of the man’s skin, one thing stood out. A single deep red crimson eye stared at him though the veiled darkness. It throbbed with a wraithlike power, the hatred it held palpable in the still air of the room. A slight repugnant odor of decaying flesh assailed his nostrils. Lian nearly fainted. What was this man in front of him now? Was he even a man anymore?

The obvious revulsion in the merchant
’s eyes must have aggravated the wizard, because he released Lian’s jaw with a start. Instead, choosing to pace back and forth in front of Lian. “Enough idle chit chat. You know why I came here, don’t you?”

The answer was obvious. “
To kill me I assume?” Curiosity gnawed away at Lian, anything to distract his thoughts on the nature of the man in front of him. “Why did you wait until now? Why do you continue this madness?” Lian’s jaw locked up again at the outburst, something he said antagonized the wizard.

“
Isn’t it obvious?” Realizing his spell still held the man inert, the wizard continued. “You still had a use. A hunter does not kill the dog that keeps the bear in the cave.”

What was he talking about? Then it dawned on Lian. Antaigne!

“As long as you lived, that fool dwarf friend of yours would be nearby. Friendship has always been a fool's concept. In other words, you were a convenient landmark for when I would be able to get around to eliminating Antaigne. But you are no longer a use to me. Antaigne is dead.”

Lian swooned; his world was tu
rned upside down at that simple remark. He wanted to deny what the wizard said, hold onto the hope that perhaps the man, no, the thing, was lying, but it only took one look at that confident way the wizard stood that what he said must be true. A single tear ran down his cheek as he stared at the thing that had killed his best friend. “And my son?”