Mercury Mind (The Downfall Saga Book 1) (6 page)

The outfit was mauve in color, with plenty of lace at the sleeves and neck of the doublet. “You shouldn’t have,” said Caddaric. “You do realize that I’ll be attending classes in a building high up in the mountains. I’ll be wearing a warm cloak more often than I’ll be attending balls.”

“Yes, dear. Just try it on for your mother.” She walked around the room, examining the knickknacks that she’d bought him over the years. “I’m going to miss you. I still can’t believe that you’re going away.”

“It’s only a few hours,” came his muffled voice, as he was bending over and putting on his pants.

“But they won’t let me visit you there. Can you believe it? They won’t even let the Queen visit her precious son.”

Caddaric made a face behind the screen, before standing up and pulling on his shirt. “You’re the one who always told me to be brave. Now you need to be brave for me. Even in my wildest dreams I didn’t think that this opportunity would come along.”

“Yes, yes. It’s the finest magic school in the world and you’ll finally not have to compete with your brothers. You will say hi to Headmaster Marrok for me? Of course you will.”

Fully dressed in the new outfit, he came out from behind the screen. He did a couple of twirls so his mother could see it from all angles. After much groping on the outfit, she declared it a suitable fit.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said. “I’ve already forgotten the last time that I watched you dance at a ball.”

“It’s been less than two weeks,” he said, scrunching his face at the unpleasant memories of the brainless buffoons that she’d made him dance with. “Besides, this will give you more time to find suitable people for me to meet when I’m home over the summer.” A shudder ran down his spine as he said the words.

“Of course. It will be a splendid affair. We’ll have people from the far corners of the realm attending to celebrate the return of my son.”

“I cannot wait,” he said, turning his back to her so she wouldn’t see his expression. Ducking back behind the screen, he hurriedly changed into a more comfortable outfit for the evening.

“Everything’s happening so fast. There’s so many things that I want to do before you go. Here, play your mother a song.” She handed him a silver flute from the mantle above the fireplace.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t have time for your own mother? Where did I go wrong raising you? While your brothers were outside riding horses and banging things with sticks, I kept you inside to learn about the refined arts; music; dance; painting, and the like.”

“Alright. One song, but then I need to pack.”

“You’re not leaving for a couple of days.”

“I want to get there early and make a good first impression.”

“You want to get away from me as soon as possible. Admit it?”

“Mother, I would never. Here, why don’t you help me pack and we’ll then spend the rest of the afternoon together.”

“Was that such a hard sacrifice?” she said, her face lighting up as she hurried over to the trunk that he’d started to pack for the trip. “One trunk. You’ll never be able to fit enough for one year in that.”

“I’m going to be spending time with the same people for the whole year,” he said. He following her over to the trunk. “It’s not as if I have to keep up on the latest trends.”

“Maybe not, but you still should.” She stood there thinking for a moment before continuing. “I guess you’ll be able to make do. You’re close enough that you can come home at every opportunity that you have, and I will have new things waiting for you when you do.” She rifled through his dresser and brought over a couple of frilly silk shirts that she carefully placed in the trunk.

“My focus is on learning and I don’t want any special privileges,” he said. “I expect that I’ll have to stay at Haven and study over the class breaks. You do want me to do well?” He held up a thick, plain wool cloak and showed it her. Despite her look of disgust, he folded it and stuffed it into the trunk.

“I want you to do better than well. I want you to be the best. If you need me to come by and talk to any of your teachers—”

“I know that you’ll always be here to help me if I’m ever in trouble,” he interrupted.

“My baby boy,” she said, giving him a long, lingering hug and breaking into tears.

“Just think of everything that you’ll have planned for me when I get back,” he said, the look on his face not matching his gentle tone.

“Speaking of that, I’ve decided to hold off on your betrothal. It wouldn’t be fair on some poor girl to be stuck here, all alone while you’re at that school for who knows how many years. I wouldn’t wish that fate on anybody.”

Closing the trunk, he looked into her eyes. “You won’t be alone. Father will be here, and David.”

“It’s not the same. I can’t talk to them like I talk to you. I’ll be spending my time worrying about you and Worrell, out of my reach but never out of my heart.”

“L
et’s see if you know how to ride,” said Osmont, leading a couple horses out of the stables. One was a midnight black stallion with a white spot on its forehead and the other, a roan mare.

He led the horses from the stables, around the staff building and to the main gate. Donovan grabbed the saddle on the mare and was about to climb on, when Osmont interrupted him. “Let’s wait until we’re at the bottom.”

“The bottom of what?”

Osmont handed him the reins to the mare and motioned to the guard to open the gate, as he led them through.

Haven sat near the south end of a spur of mountains, less than an hour’s ride north of Kendra. It was located in a nook between two mountains, many miles above the surrounding terrain. Looking east from the main gate, they could see Kenelm Forest, a sea of green and brown, spread out before them as far as the eye could see. A single patch of grey stone rose from the forests depths, a few miles to the northeast, known as Carrick’s Stand, named after a great king who defended the hill from a vastly superior Shem army for seven days, before the dwarves and elves came to his aid and routed the Shem. The hill looked like the top of a bald head, wearing a wreath of laurels. No one knew why a single rocky hill grew in the middle of a lush green forest, but its odd appearance helped enhance its stories.

A steep, narrow path wound its way back and forth across the mountain face until it reached a broader road at the base of the cliff. “The bottom of that,” said Osmont.

“Couldn’t someone magic up a better road than this?” asked Donovan.

“Firstly, magic doesn’t work that way and secondly, we wouldn’t dream about changing it.” Leading his horse by the reins, he led the way down the steep path as he continued to talk. “There is always a certain level of mistrust towards wizards. It ebbs and flows over time but never completely disappears. Right now we’re in an age where people accept our Gifts as being beneficial to their lives, so they generally leave us alone. Every once in a while a new king comes along who feels that Haven needs to submit to his rule. This is met with a polite refusal which generally escalates into an army marching towards our gate. This path deters the army from going any further. A handful of people rolling rocks down the cliff side can easily hold off a vastly superior army indefinitely.”

“That makes sense,” said Donovan, walking along the outside edge of the path so he had a better view down to the bottom. “I wouldn’t want to lug anything heavy up or down the path.”

“At least not until you’re trained in the use of magic,” said Osmont, with a wink.

“I’m a little bit embarrassed to have waited this long to ask this, but are you a professor at Haven?”

“Me? No. I prefer to live my life exploring the wilderness, not sitting in a chair by a fire in a warm room. I’m only here as a favor for Headmaster Marrok.”

“What kind of a favor?”

They came to a section of the path which had washed away, either from the rain or the earthquake the night before. Two workers, with pickaxes and shovels, were working on its repair. They stopped their work as Osmont and Donovan approached.

“Think it’ll be ready for when the students start arriving?” asked Osmont to the closest worker, who had a big, bristling moustache.

“We’re not leaving until it’s done, so it had better be done tonight,” he said, glaring at his coworker.

They helped lay a couple of wooden planks across the damaged section, and made it across without incident.

“That quake did some damage,” said Osmont, surveying the forest below them. “It’s a good thing that no one got hurt at Haven.”

Now that Osmont had mentioned it, Donovan started to see the signs of devastation. Trees, still full of green leaves, had been knocked over, debris from the mountains had carved fresh paths into the forest.

“You didn’t answer my question about what you’re doing here,” said Donovan.

“I always appreciate a persistent lad,” said Osmont. “You know that Professor Cleary spends his time studying prophecies. Well, he’s developed this theory that the cataclysmic ones follow a roughly thousand year cycle, and we’re nearing the end of a cycle. I personally don’t believe him, but he’s convinced himself and Headmaster Marrok that it’s true. With it firmly planted in his mind, he’s seeing more and more signs that we’re about to be faced with one.”

They silently led their horses, while Donovan let it sink in. “So what does he think is going to happen?” he finally asked.

“The specific details vary between the various prophets, but at its core, he expects a return of Zeren and his armies laying waste to the world. Now, even he doesn’t believe that Zeren will actually return, given that he’s merely a myth, but that a group of disciples using his name will invade with an army of Shem. I can’t get into any more details than that, but suffice to say that when Cleary comes across a promising sign, I try to look into it for the Headmaster.”

They mounted their horses when they reached the road at the bottom, and headed for Kendra. Along the way, Osmont told Donovan about a club that he ran on Saturdays during the term. While it was mostly an excuse to leave the confines of Haven, he taught the students a variety of things, from unarmed combat to wilderness survival. He promised Donovan that he’d get him in shape, and Donovan reluctantly agreed to come to the first session to check it out. Arriving at Kendra, they entered through the east gate and stabled their horses nearby, before heading into the city on foot.

Kendra had been founded beside a fork in the Skyrah River. A large keep build atop a hill towered over the surrounding city. As the city grew over time, it expanded across the banks of the river. Located at the intersection of three major trade routes, the city was always bustling with activity and now held tens of thousands of residents.

The city was laid out in a wheel-and-spoke pattern, radiating outwards from a small island in the center of the fork in the river. Osmont led them straight to the center of the city, and as they cleared the final building near the water’s edge, Donovan got his first look at the Temple District. Built atop the island in the center of the river, it was the most lavish part of the city. The streets were paved and kept meticulously clean. Large marble buildings with arched ceilings and intricately carved columns filled the small island. Three bridges crossed over to the island, and at the end of each stood a small fountain, displaying various religious figures carved into its outer face.

“I’m heading to the Royal Library to research the symbol carved onto your chest,” said Osmont. “If you cross the river here, it will take you to a market district. Why don’t you browse its wares until I come back?”

“Why come here when there must be plenty of books back at Haven?”

“I’ve already got someone searching the libraries at Haven, but the library here has an extensive collection of books on magical subjects. I’m calling in a favor with an old friend who’ll actually be looking for the books. I should be back in a couple of hours ... and watch your coins.” With that, he turned and merged into the crowd.

Donovan debated following him. Heading to where the Royal Family lived sounded much more exciting than browsing a market, but the decision was made for him when Osmont disappeared, as if by magic, into the crowd and Donovan knew that he wouldn’t be able to track him through the crowded city.

Crossing the bridge, he entered the Temple District, and stopped to look at the fountain.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” came a voice from beside Donovan.

Donovan bent down and examined it in greater details. The carvings were exquisite. Despite their small size, the artist had managed to include crow’s feet around the eyes of an old woman. “Whoever made it is a true craftsman.” Donovan finally turned around to see who had spoken.

A small boy, of perhaps ten or eleven, sat on the edge of the fountain, staring at Donovan. His clothing was filthy and it looked like he hadn’t had a regular meal in some time. Donovan reached out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Donovan.”

“I’m Pid.” Pid reached out a grimy hand to shake Donovan’s. “I haven’t seen ya around here before.”

“That’s because it’s my first time in the city, I think.”

“What do ya mean, I think?”

“I ... well ... I seem to have lost my memory,” said Donovan, slowly. “So I’m not sure if I’ve been here before.”

“Did someone clunk ya on the head?” Pid craned his neck, trying to see if there was a goose egg protruding from Donovan’s head.

“I honestly don’t know. What do you do around here, Pid?”

“I like to take a break from begging once in a while, and watch the folks go by.”

“They are an interesting collection,” said Donovan, turning to watch the steady stream of people walk by. “Look at that one there.” He pointed at a middle aged man in the crowd.

A man in leather pants, a well-fitting jacket, and muddy shoes with a patch over the toes scurried past, seemingly without a care in the world. His gait was short, his eyes looked over the heads of the people in front of him. A tight smile on his face.

“He’s a scam artist pretending to be a well-off merchant.”

“How’d ya know that?”

“The walk’s all wrong. He’s holding his head right, but it looks like he’s scurrying from place to place rather than taking purposeful strides. You can also see the end of a piece of rope that he’s using as a belt sticking out from under his coat, and look at those shoddy boots. An honest merchant would buy a well-made pair of boots long before he bought the fancy clothes.”