The Melaki Chronicle (4 page)

Daska said, “Kill the prisoner. He has been condemned to
death.”

With a nod from Abisin, a metal grate raised and a
scruffy-looking man emerged. He was holding a spear. Even condemned prisoners
were given a chance to fight.

With a roar, the prisoner bolted forward towards Melaki. The
adrenaline that had been coursing through his body still served him. Though he
knew he was slowing down, he calmly constructed his spell. Shooting out his
hand, a bolt of pure blue energy raced from him and slammed the man's upper
torso backwards. The prisoner's feet flew forward and he landed on his back.
Smoke rose from the dead man's chest.

“Most initiates use a ball of fire. Yours reminds me of our
energy crystals. Interesting.” Elet Abisin nodded his approval. Two of the
Elets actually applauded.

Daska produced an apple from his robe pocket and moved
towards the Elets. Melaki followed.

Daska held up the apple by the arena wall in view of the
Elets. “Wizard Melaki, blight the fruit.”

The apple he had ate provided a pittance of needed energy to
keep him standing. His limbs were quivering and he still had the hardest ward
to come. He focused inward, drew his knotted pattern and put it into the apple.
He gave the pattern a small spin and opened his eyes. The apple was black with
mold.

Daska dropped the thing in distaste. “Success.”

Elet Abisin shook his head in wonder at Melaki. “I am
impressed, Wizard. Disease that dead man and let's see if you can progress to
the fifth ward.”

Melaki's chest swelled with pride that the Elet did not
doubt he could pass the last of the fourth ward. He strode to the prisoner he
had killed and formed leprosy healing in reverse. That seemed the simplest way.
With his eyes closed, he focused on the rot and disease. His head swam, but he
kept the image.

Dimly he was aware of groans. He kept the pattern working,
and made sure his magic covered the body.

"Enough!" Abisin's voice was filled with ire.

Melaki's eyes snapped open and he released the magic in a
panic. Had he failed? But he need not have worried; the body on the ground was
covered in lesions, pustules and split skin. Even he backed away from his own
work. The dead man no longer resembled a man.

As they left the arena, Scribe Daska leaned in towards
Melaki. “Are you sure you want to try the fifth ward testing? We can see you
shaking. Surely this could wait until next week?”

“I appreciate your concern, Scribe Daska.” His legs wobbled
as they climbed a small hill overlooking the arena. “But I want this finished.
When I am done, I want to leave here and never return. Did not headmistress say
if I failed to finish all the wards, my end was sacrifice?”

Daska frowned, but he nodded. A wizard of any ward had the
right to travel where he pleased unless in the direct employ of the Imperium.
Melaki could have walked away as soon as he acquired his robe, but he needed
finality to his time here at the Rukha.

At the peak of the hill, the Elets, Renta's assistant
Sam-Adad, and several of the Scribe Instructors formed a large circle. Melaki
was in the center.

Daska smiled with pride at his student. “Wizard Melaki, you
are commanded to summon a creature.”

A breeze blew the humid air through Melaki's hair. The
feeling was soothing and for a second he relaxed in the feel of the air on his
face. The ocean breeze was salty though he knew he could not see the beach from
here. He wanted to lay down on the sand and rest. He wanted to let the breeze
blow over him. He looked skyward at the roiling waters high in the sky - so
high that the undulations of the water barrier appeared like a silken cloth in
the breeze. But suddenly, something ominous clouded his thoughts. Something
about the water barrier.

Looking down, he noted with alarm that the Elets were still
waiting. He did not know how much time had passed. Quickly, he formed a pattern
for a snake. Snakes were popular amongst the fifth ward pupils. With an effort
at duplication, he formed several patterns. He raised his hands to the sky in
an effort to maintain the patterns as individual and separate formations. His
arms quaked and his knees wobbled. It would have to be enough. With a shout, he
brought down his hands and stumbled to the ground.

Before him, the dirt of the hill was stirring with an anger.
In an explosion of dust, asps sprung forth all around him facing outward. The
cacophony of hissing was met by alarmed shouts as the observers all began
casting spells to counter the asps. There must have been at least two dozen
spitting snakes. Within seconds, they were gone.

Alarm was replaced with exclamations and praise. Abisin was
shaking his head but he was smiling in admiration.

Melaki did not have time to enjoy the success. His vision
swam in a familiar way. He began to get a flat taste in his mouth. His ears
began ringing. A vision was coming.

Not now!

Panic overwhelmed him and he felt the blood drain from his
skin. He was so close - only two tests remained. He tried to stop the vision,
but it kept coming. A vision could take as little as a few seconds or last as
long as several hours. He could not afford to have a vision at this moment. But
it was coming and fast.

In desperation, he turned to Elet Abisin. He spoke as fast
as he could. "I will finish the last two tests in one."

It was not form for the initiate to make demands. Traditions
were held and change frowned upon. But was he not a wizard now?

He did not have time to listen to the rejections. He did not
have time to argue or convince. The vision was almost upon him and he could
tell it was going to be bad. His knees were buckling and his body shook with
the effort of standing. A sob broke from his mouth as he turned to Abisin.
Quickly, he spun a knot and hovered it over the Elet's head.

The Elet knew he was a target. He drew in breath but Melaki
shot his finger out to point at Abisin. “Trust me!”

Using his other hand, he sketched a pattern. A wind rose,
calm at first. Melaki poured everything he had into it except enough to
maintain the pattern over Abisin's head. This had to work. His strength drained
from him with a speed that meant he had only seconds and no more. He pulled
heavily on the weather pattern and fell with the motion to his knees. The
vision was upon him.

The wind grew to a roar, or so Melaki thought. It was hollow
and distant in his ears. Did he still control it? Would he pass this test? He
remembered Abisin. He yelled as loud as he could, over the wind, “Elet!”

Each word was an increasing effort until each syllable
caused pain. “See what I see!”

The wind tore at his mouth, ripping his breath away. He
lowered the pattern to Abisin and merged them. “Hear what I hear!”

He was not sure he even heard himself. A black cloud the
size of which struck fear in his heart roiled over the hilltop - the entire
town. With a last pull of effort from his fading consciousness, Melaki finished
the weather pattern and brought it down to the ground. A bolt of lightning
thicker than a temple pillar arced back and forth in the cloud above them and
shot down to strike the ground in front of Melaki.

That was the last thing he remembered of his awakened state.
He felt his body fly through the air as the vision consumed him.

He was standing on the same hilltop and Abisin was there.
Terror streaked his eyes but he was oddly transparent as if he were not all
there. The vision was always painful. The feeling of reality was sharpened here
in the vision-state. Everything felt more substantial. He could feel the hill
beneath him, smell the soil, feel the wind moreso than when he was not having
visions.

The water barrier above flashed with odd lights. Enormous
lights that arced across the entire sky. The ground beneath him groaned and
began to shift. Something in the lights above was causing disturbances in the
ground below. Melaki was not sure how. The air was pregnant with energy and the
ground began to move. The overwhelming sensations were painful. Melaki sobbed
and tears streamed down Abisin's face.

The ground jumped and then ripped. A fissure of gargantuan
size rent the town beneath them. Buildings were swallowed whole into the
fissure. Water from the ocean rushed in with a ferocity that tore the breath
from their mouths. Part of the land was shifting away and sinking. The ocean
reared up into a titanic wave and crashed down on the remaining part of the
town. Buildings were washed away like so much flotsam in a storm. Only those in
the hills to the far west survived.

In a final act of horror, the hill on which they were
standing dropped from beneath them into darkness and water. Ocean spray
assaulted them as they fell. Their screams of terror were cut short by
oblivion.

Visions were real. Visions were true, and visions never
failed.

Melaki wanted to rest, but he wanted a taste of freedom.
Occasionally initiates were given leave to walk the town nearby. But as that he
was now a full wizard of the fifth ward with his black robe and gold trimmings,
he wanted to be free.

He would return and sleep in his initiate's room until
assigned something better the next day, but tonight he wanted a drink.

Or three. Or five.

He had spent the day trying to recover, trying to eat, and
trying to avoid the sudden avalanche of amazement at something never before
done by an initiate or wizard. He would have liked to stride through the halls
basking in the glow of praise, relishing his triumph, and reveling with those
who wanted to know how he did it. But he could not.

I'm just not some hero from a story, is all. I'm just a
man.

He stepped out into the cooling air, ignoring the
compliments of the initiate standing at the gate. What did he care what the
student thought?

I am a full wizard now.

He walked with an assured weariness to the tavern he liked
to frequent when he could get away, The Swaggering Swine. A painting on the
sign showed a pig prancing about with a cup in one hoof.

The blast of warm air, noise, music and raucous voices
washed over him as he entered. Silence did not greet him, though a temporary
drop in the noise level did. The usuals regarded him and his new robes, then
went on with whatever they had been shouting about before.

He plopped down into a chair at a table near the minimal
fire.

“You steal that robe, initiate?” a regular called to him.

“Earned it.” His grin shut the man up.

“Fancy robes,” said Erilyn, the barmaid.

He grunted. “They're scratchy. I'll need a good half dozen
meads lined up right here.” He pointed and placed down a gold imperial coin.

A raised eybrow on one side told him she would deliver no
matter the clothing. “Right away, master.”

He watched the woman thread towards the bar. She was
attractive, but everyone else thought so, too.

What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?

It was then that he saw another wizard enter the tavern.

What's this?

He had never seen him here before, but it was difficult to
make him out through the haze.

“Melaki, friend,” said Domo, a tavern regular.

“Sit.” He gestured expansively.

“You steal those robes?”

“No, I earned them.”

“You?”

Melaki grinned. “This day even.”

“Pah!” Domo waved dismissively.

“Indeed, friend.”

Domo grunted. “Do not see many black robes in here.” He cast
a glance at the other black-robed wizard.

“Mmm.” He focused his own glance at the other wizard. There
was something familiar about him.

“Are you too good for us now?” Domo frowned.

Melaki swept his arm inches over the meads stacked in front
of him. “Does it look so?”

“How come by you such success when it was so distant
before?”

He frowned and looked into his cup. The liquid there was
sure. Solid. It was there. “Maybe I learned a trick.”

A slap on his arm jolted him. Domo winked. “Well done,
then.”

The other wizard peered at him through the haze of smoke
from the torches and fireplace.

Was that? Yes, it was Talin. What was Talin doing here?

“I'm not sure I could not have done all the wards of testing
before. It was very easy.”

“You did them all?” Domo sounded doubtful.

The lute player plucked a series of strings that resonated
with his soul. He waxed thoughtful. “I mixed two together at the end.”

He did not mention the vision.

“And I caused no end of argument and surprise at what I
did.”

“Surprise?” said Domo.

“Indeed. I surprised the Elets.”

An eyebrow told him Domo was not buying it.

“What? You?” Domo leaned back and laughed.

Melaki formed a simple light pattern in his mind and
produced the result in Domo's mug. Blue light shot forth from the top of the
man's mug.

Domo stared at his drink with horror – not sure whether to
finish it or fling it to the ground.

But Melaki did not care. He was wearing the robe. To wear a
robe of a wizard of the Rukha was asking for imprisonment if one wore it
without having earned it.

He downed his mead. Slamming the cup down, he grabbed the
next.

“Perhaps,” said another voice, “my friend here will allow me
his seat?” Talin stood over Domo, his hand on the man's shoulder.

Domo peered up sideways at the wizard and then pursed his
lips. Whatever he had been about to say he strangled. He nodded once, taking
his cup glowing from the inside, and moved to another table.

“I hope you do not mind if I join you?” But Talin had
already sat.

Melaki waved his cup as if all the seats were free and he
did not care.

“I understand you passed all five wards today?” Talin looked
down his nose in disbelief.

He raised his arm, indicating his robe and trimming. “You
really think they would give this to a wizard of the first ward?”

Talin frowned. “No, of course not. But your past--”

Melaki leaned forward. “Was laid to rest, today.”

The other wizard leaned back, fingers on chin. “So it is,
then.”

“Why are you here, Talin?” Before, Melaki would have been
subject to punishment for taking such a tone. But he was wearing robes of
equality, if not of the same rank. Talin was a wizard of the tenth ward.

What did Talin know and what was he taught that we are
not even allowed to know?

The sixth through tenth wards were not a continuation of the
initiate's experience. Most never learned anything beyond any of the first five
wards. Elet Abisin had mentioned advancing to the sixth ward, but he had been
otherwise enigmatic on what the sixth ward contained.

“A time of change is coming--” Talin said.

Melaki mused, but for different reasons. Change was indeed
coming. Something so new and unexpected, none would suspect.

He grunted.

“The Imperial Armies have pacified the Northlands.”

Melaki nodded. The Northlands was a vast island of forest
and ruin. Previously held by Altanles, it had rebelled and been consumed by
evil. For almost two hundred years it had lain in the hands of those who
practiced necromancy. Much had been left behind in the loss of that island.
Much probably remained to be regained. “Yes,” he said.

“I am on the First Charter,” Talin said. He leaned forward
to punctuate his words.

Reclamation of the island was set in a series of charters.
Only so many were allowed to venture to the island. Too many would overwhelm
the small base established there. An adequate supply route needed to be formed
first by the available shipping. To be in the First Charter was a feat that
spoke of either great influence or great wealth.

Melaki was not sure which in Talin's case. “The Northlands
are said to be haunted--”

“Do not believe everything you hear,” Talin said. But he was
frowning. “Indeed, the dead still walk and the undead are still in force.
Imperial forces only eliminated the necromancers.”

“Should not their filth have died with them?” Necromancers
raised zombies and animated skeletons, their power derived from the one who
raised them. Kill a necromancer and their animations died.

“Only in the most direct sense. The necromancers also
summoned other beings, beings capable of existing without direct support.”

“Beings?” Melaki sipped his mead.
What does this have to
do with me?

“The undead. Ghouls, demons, even. Those who also animate
the dead.”

“Sounds like a problem.”

“The Imperial forces wiped them from the surface, but many
still exist in the tombs and crypts.”

He shrugged.

“There is considerable wealth there to be recovered.
Necromantic gems can be cleansed and are of great value. Gold is there and
silver, too. Just waiting to be picked up.”

“And you're on the First Charter.”

“Indeed. I need an assistant. Someone I can trust.” His oily
look said someone he could use.

“You want me to be your assistant?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to dive into some dusty hole with you and
provide light while you scoop up precious gems?”

“I rather think being on the First Charter would appeal to
you.”

To my greed, if I had any.
“What do I get out of it?”

“Half of what we find is claimed by the Altanles Imperium. I
will give you a quarter of my half for your aid.”

The offer was generous. Talin could have snapped up an
initiate and simply forced him to aid him without pay. “Why not take an
initiate? They would require no pay.”

Talin flicked his fingers over the cuff of his robe. “I
wanted someone with ability, not someone requiring constant hand-holding.”

Melaki grunted and reached for another mug.

“You'd be a fool,” Domo said from his table, “to pass that
offer by.”

The man had good ears.

The Northlands would take him away from here. The pay, if
they found much, would allow him to venture out on his own, later. He did not
hate those of the Altanlean Empire, but he hated the imperial act that had
savaged his homeland.

Would he wander within the Empire? Would he venture outside?
Perhaps back to the Meseditt Empire? Would he be welcome home even if he wore
the robes of a Altanlean wizard?

He had earned the robes. He would not remove them.

Perhaps more than ever, he felt more orphaned than at any
time since his village burned. Changed, and not fully of one place and not of
the other, where would he go? Did fate seek to destroy everything he was? His
identity? He had been taught evil magic here. He had been taught what was
called evil magic in his home land. Was there really any place for him? But as
he would not give up his robes, having earned them, he would neither give up
his magic. He would put ink to parchment and record what he had learned. The
Northlands at this point offered him the ability to do so later and give him
the ability to travel beyond the Altanlean Empire. They would surely hunt him
down if he remained and they discovered the ways of his magic.

He nodded slowly to Talin.

“I take that as a yes?”

I hate you already.
“Yes.”

The oily look smoothed into a sneer. “Very good, then. We
leave in eight days.” He rose and straightened his robe as if sitting in the
tavern had disturbed it. He cast a look around and left without another word.

“He's a cheery one,” Domo said. He reclaimed his seat.

“Bah.”

“But I would not have turned down that offer, either. Gold
and riches. Who could say no?”

“Well, I'm sure it will be quite dull.”

“But gold and gems--”

“And streets paved with gold. Gems raining from the waters
above. Silver trinkets growing on trees.”

“But--”

“The Altanles Empire expended many men defeating the
necromancers. They're giving us the task of cleaning up all the remains. Call
the chore a charter as if it was some coveted thing. The opportunity to work is
all it is. I doubt there's much wealth there to be had.”

“But--”

Melaki slapped Domo's shoulder. “Domo, do not you think the
imperial forces took all the wealth they found when they killed the
necromancers? How much is going to be in some dusty tomb?”

“Oh, I see.” His brow was furrowed.

“Taking this allows me to get out of here. The Rukha crawls
on my skin like fleas. I must be away.”

Domo grunted. Not convinced.

“At least I will be able to write my findings while holding
a light for Talin.”

“Findings?”

“Nothing to concern you, friend.” He raised his mug.

Domo's still glowed.

*  *  *

Melaki heard the knock. “Yes?”

Elet Abisin entered. “Your new rooms are prepared. Present
yourself to Wizard Rashilla for instruction in the sixth ward.”

“I thought the rest of the wards were voluntary?”

“They are. However, your ability at passing the first five
wards begs that we instruct you further.”

He sat up from the warmth of his blankets and rubbed his
eyes. His white bedclothes were a stark contrast to the black robes laid across
the foot of the bed. “You do know that Wizard Talin has assigned me as aide?”

Abisin frowned. “I did not.”

“His assignment takes precedence?”

The Elet frowned deeper. “It does, but I do not like it.”

“We leave in seven days.”

A grunt. “Nevertheless, present yourself. I do not expect
that you will finish the ward--”

“No one expected me to finish the first.”

Abisin raised an eyebrow at the interruption. But Melaki was
no longer an initiate.

He raised a hand to the Elet, forestalling a response. “I
will go.”

A quick nod was followed by an equally quick departure.

He washed and dressed, then walked with a purpose across the
Rukha to the attached wizards' living area. He passed initiates who still
looked at him as he were an amazing bug. Then he entered the quieter halls of
the wizards. The contrast was as stark as his bedclothes and robes. The Rukha
was all white – walls, tiles, initiates' clothing. Here in the attached
wizards' halls, the walls were a deep brown – almost black. The floor tiles
were black. And the robes he passed were black.

He received a few surprised looks from some of the wizards –
those who had heard of his five-ward elevation in one day but not believing
until they saw the trim on his robes.

“Rashilla?” he said to a wizard.

The man pointed. “That hallway. Far end on the left.”

“My thanks,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

He received an eyebrow in return.