The (sort of) Dark Mage (Waldo Rabbit)

My Thanks

This is my first novel and I would like to give special thanks to three people.

Jennifer Macedo
was a very kind, sweet girl who I knew back in High School (Go Whalers!). We were never more than friends, but she was the very first person I ever showed any of my stories to. I used to keep them in notebooks hidden in the back of my closet. I was your typical fat, near sighted nerd and my stories were way too personal to expose to actual criticism.

When I mentioned I liked to write she begged to read some of them. She told me she really loved them and that I should always write. Hearing that meant a lot to me, and I promised her that if I ever write a book I would dedicate it to her. We lost touch after High School and I have no idea where she is now or if she will ever read this.

But promise kept.

Kelly Kilroy
is my best friend. He is the sort of friend who will tell you you’re being an idiot when no one else will. He will also listen when you really need to talk. I once quit a dead end job and moved down to Florida with him because he told me, ‘I need a roommate and I know you won’t steal from me.’ He gave me a whole lot of crap at times, but he also gave me a lot of good advice that I wish I had taken. While he didn’t specifically help me with writing this book, he has helped me more than any single person outside of my parents. He has always been there when I needed him and is everything a best friend should be.

And Kelly, if you’re reading this, ‘a sphere had no sides to it!’

(Yes, I know a sphere has infinite sides to it. It’s a private joke.)

Mistress Winowyll,
and no, that’s not her real name. We have never physically met, spoken on the phone, or even been in the same state. We met online because she liked some of my fanfiction stories. We got to talking and discovered we shared two things in common. Our love of writing and a pathological need to inflict pain and humiliation on lesser people.

Also we’re both really into leather.

Over the past six years we have constantly IMed one another with story ideas and our chats have been the inspiration for a lot of my writing. We love to inspire and mock each other and can share harsh truths when called for.

I have spent over two years writing this book. She has been there the whole time, bouncing ideas, giving me her opinion and acting as both my editor and beta. She even helped me come up with the original story concept.

You have my deepest thanks and appreciation. Hell, I even used both l’s on your name. If that’s not love I don’t know what is.

Prologue

A woman in black robes quietly approached a wooden door.

“
Pyro
.” With a single word a small fire materialized in the palm of her hand.

She entered the nursery as quietly as she could.

It was night time, and the only source of light was the magical flame.

The baby did not stir. He continued to sleep peacefully in his crib.

The woman simply stood there, looking down at him. He was only three days old, pink, perfect, and healthy. He was her seventh child. Like all of his brothers and sisters she would protect him and teach him how to be a powerful mage. Being the seventh and youngest made him lucky, his older siblings would not see him as a threat. That meant the chances of having an ‘accident’ were much less.  It was a small mercy.

It was not as though he would have a peaceful life. Being born into this family made that impossible, but things would be much easier than if he had been the first or second.

“Things will be hard enough for you my son,” Lilith whispered.

It always amazed her how pure and innocent the children were, how free of corruption and sin. Within her heart she felt a twinge at the thought of the things she would teach him. The things he would be made to endure to toughen and strengthen him. Their world was a dark and dangerous place; you could not afford to be gentle.

Reaching down she touched his cheek with a single finger. His skin was warm and so very soft.

“How I wish you could always be safe, but as my son that is not something you are entitled to.”

For just a moment, she wondered if he would be better off if he’d been born in a peasant hut in some far off land. He would never see the rivers of molten fire. Never get to taste Illsyrian wine or wear silk. Never study magic and experience its wonders. Never know what power felt like, or see that marvelous look of terror in a person’s eyes just before you ended their life.

He would instead have an ordinary, common existence. His meals would be gruel and turnips and he would labor in muddy fields from dawn to dusk. His life would be one of servitude, at the mercy of petty lords. One day he would marry some homely girl from his village and have a family of his own. He would live an entire lifetime never going more than twenty miles from where he was born.

But at least he would be safe
, she thought.

Lilith chuckled and shook her head. Such silly, pointless thoughts. There was no way her child could ever be ordinary, not with the blood that flowed through his veins. She was an archmage and head of a very powerful family, while his father had also been extraordinary in his own right. Surely this child would accomplish great things.

In the back of her head she felt a presence approaching, her familiar. Still standing over the crib she turned her face slightly towards the door. It opened without a sound, and an emaciated form enter the nursery. In the fire’s light she could see the veins beneath his skin and the outline of his bones. His shadow flickered and danced on the wall behind him. He seemed very much at home in the darkness.

“Feeling maternal today?” He asked in his feather soft voice. His tongue ran over his bloodless lips as he cast his eyes towards the crib.

Hungrily.

“What do you want Enver?”

Short, shuffling steps brought him to her side to peer down at her son.

“His scent is rich and tempting, his blood would taste sweeter than summer wine I’ll wager.” His fingers twitched and he leaned forward ever so slightly.

“You are forbidden to touch or harm any of my children.” She brought the fire close to his face and forced him to step back. “Never forget who your master is.”

He took a couple additional steps back away from her and held up his hands. “I am not likely to.”

“You do it all the time,” she grunted. He was her familiar and bound to her by their contract. That didn’t keep him from trying to find all sorts of ways to cause mischief. “Why are you here?”

“I was curious,” he said softly. “I wanted to see if it was true. Are the boy’s eyes yellow?”

“I prefer to call them honey colored.”

Lips twitched and a wheezing laugh filled the chamber. “It’s so then? He has the blood of Avalon in him?”

“He has my blood, and that is all that counts.”

“People won’t see it that way.”

“What does that matter? When have I ever cared about them?”

“The other families won’t like it either.”

“They have no say in this.”

Inhuman eyes stared at her though the fire light. “He will be hated.”

“That would be true regardless. Those with power are always hated. He will learn to accept it as I have.”

“So cruel,” he teased. “You could make him a sacrifice you know. Offer him up to the Dark Powers, a child with the enemy’s blood. Surely you would be rewarded.”

“We sacrifice the deformed or the sickly. My son is healthy and strong.”

He opened his mouth with a fresh retort.

“Be silent.” Lilith said with annoyance.

His jaw snapped shut. Defiance marred his face, but he made no sound.

“Go,” she commanded. “I do not want to see you again until tomorrow.”

Body stiff and movement rigid he left.

When he was gone she again turned back to her son.

“You will have a hard time my son, but there is greatness inside you. Your life will not be an easy one, but I am sure it will be filled with wonders.” She placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Sleep well Waldo.”

With that she quietly departed.
 

Chapter 1

The First Quest

The Shattered Lands held more than a thousand nations. Kingdoms, Duchies, Baronies, Republics, Oligarchies, Magocricies, Theocracies, Tribal Federations, Dictatorships, and lands with no law at all could be found. Each individual nation was independent
. So called kings had no more authority beyond their borders than a baron or high priest did. There were alliances and treaties, but no ruler ever swore fealty to another. The human nations shared a common tongue, a number system, a calendar, and a coinage system; but there was no single law or authority. Wars were constant, as were crime and sickness. Monsters roamed the land, as did bandits, while many people feared their own rulers even more. Nations were born and swallowed up. It was a world filled with magic and bloodshed.

One of these nations was called Alteroth. It was located near the very heart of the Shattered Lands. It was among the largest and most powerful countries; for it was a land of Dark Mages and dark magics. Undead soldiers patrolled the borders and enforced the laws. The dead served and the living obeyed. Those who could use black magic held absolute power.

Seven families ruled here. Though suspicious of each other, they were bound together by mutual need. The rest of the world hated and feared them, and would gladly have destroyed them if they could. The neighboring nations were too divided to form a coalition, and would not dare challenge Alteroth’s might. So long as the Seven Families stood united they were far too powerful to attack.

For those who practiced the Dark Arts Alteroth was a sanctuary and a haven. The Seven Great Families sought influence and wealth in the wider world. They reveled in the fear and terror they inspired, and treasured their reputations. The Seven Families thrived on the dread they inspired and did all they could to appear terrifying, both to their own people and to the world in general.

That was the reason the Council of Seven was meeting.

XXX

Within the vast council chamber, six men in black robes sat about a round table eying one other. There was no leader of the Council, no one was allowed to stand one inch higher than the rest. Each member was the head on one of the Great Families, and a master of the Dark Arts. They were not friends and they did not trust, they worked together because of need. Enslaved elven maidens poured wine, eyes cast downcast and properly attentive. There was an uncomfortable silence as attention flickered to the single empty seat.

“This is dangerous,” Lothas Blackwater muttered. “Not announcing a meeting to one of our own.”

“I sent a message,” a sickly man with rotten teeth said. “I suppose the slave was slow in delivering it. I’ll have him killed in apology.”

“That’s not going to fool anyone Dante.” Baldwin Blooddrinker said. He had forest green eyes and ears that were slightly pointed. His features were smooth and delicate, almost feminine.

Dante Poisondagger offered a putrid smile. “I know that, but it’s enough to cover us. Mistakes do happen.”

“We need to come to a decision before she arrives.” Gawreth Wormwood said.