Amcaro and the others entered the vast common hall of the castle. Large wooden rafters supported the ceiling and from them hung dozens of singed banners. Five banners dominated the ceiling, greater than all others, emblazoned with the seals of Cadonia’s dukes. Smaller hangings surrounded each of the five with their own unique seals representing the lords within each Duke’s province. Aurnon the First had designed the ceiling himself, believing that a king should always be mindful of those who serve him.
“The needs of the people should be above the wants of the king,” he often said. A great man. Too bad the meaning of your design was lost on many of your namesakes.
Amcaro’s eyes drifted past the bare walls, focusing instead on the four long tables at the room’s center where servants of the castle would have their meals. Benches were overturned. To the left and right were the round tables used for members of the Royal Guard or the rare guest. Wisps of smoke drifted up from the broken and splintered remains of the chairs that would normally encircle them.
Just as before, smoldering bodies covered the scene. Contorted into misshapen forms, their number more than tripled those littering the courtyard. If not for the armor or the blackened swords in their hands, it would be impossible to discern that the figures were once members of the Royal Guard. As it was, many of the bodies were barely recognizable as human. One body in particular caught Amcaro’s eye. Belonging to a servant, the lifeless form crouched, frozen, under one of the center tables.
There was no mercy for even one as defenseless as you. Nareash what has happened to you?
Essan took a step forward, eyes still taking in the carnage. He spoke so quietly, Amcaro had to listen hard to catch his words. “There must be over a hundred guardsmen in this room.” Turning to Amcaro with a look of disbelief he continued, his voice rising. “Just between here and the courtyard alone, half of the royal guard is dead. Nareash has lost his mind. There is no other explanation. Has anyone been left alive?”
Somber, Amcaro answered, “We should assume the worst.”
Both mages turned as Edali dashed through the hall. Edali maneuvered toward the table on the far end of the room, opposite the doors. Unless the king extended a special invitation, only the royal family and its closest advisors gathered in the back of the hall. Acus was a step behind, weaving in and out of the wreckage.
“What do you see?” Amcaro called out.
“It’s the king! He’s somehow unscathed by the devastation around him,” said Edali as he reached the opposite side of the room.
Essan and Amcaro made their way toward Edali and Acus. Amcaro, last in line, saw what the others had noticed; a plump man lay on his side in light blue robes. His back was to the advancing mage, but there was no mistaking the round shape and the salt-and-pepper hair visible through the top of the man’s clothing. A gaudy crown still sat crooked on his head. Amcaro came to a sudden halt.
This isn’t right.
Edali bent down to examine the king. Acus kneeled on the ruler’s other side.
One Above!
“Don’t touch him!” Amcaro called out, realizing the danger. His words echoed throughout the hall but were a moment too late.
As Edali turned the king over to check his condition and perform the healing arts, a ball of fire engulfed the mage. He flew back, landing on the remains of a guardsman. The fire burned with such ferocity, the air in the room thinned.
Amcaro watched Acus repel the exploding fire. However, the sorcerous attack distracted him from noticing the jeweled dagger in the king’s pale right hand. The king’s chubby arm arced across his bulky frame with surprising speed and the dagger opened Acus’s throat. Blood pulsed onto the floor.
Amcaro reached out with an invisible hand, and pinned the king’s arms at his sides. The overweight ruler struggled to break free, but the king was no match for the mage’s power. After a moment he relaxed in the unseen bindings, an emotionless expression on his face.
Essan rushed over to Acus’s side to assess the damage caused by the king’s attack. There was no sense in checking on Edali. As the fire slowly subsided, Amcaro could see the mage was no more. The crackle of burnt flesh made Amcaro flinch. “Is Acus alive?”
Essan closed his eyes and his hand clutched Acus’s throat. Blood oozed from between his fingers. “No.”
That one word expressed so many meanings. Sorrow for losing a friend, frustration for not acting sooner, desire to change places, emptiness that will never be filled—but of all things it spoke of hate.
Amcaro took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I know what you’re thinking. But now isn’t the time to allow our feelings to cloud our judgment. Edali and Acus did just that and so did Rhindora by running on ahead of us. One Above knows what has happened to her as it seems she continued without even checking the hall. Such carelessness will lead to our death too, Essan.”
“I am well aware of the situation,” said Essan in a tight voice, his chin resting on his chest.
Amcaro sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
Essan looked up and turned to the king. “Is this truly the king?”
Amcaro stared at Cadonia’s ruler, sorrowful. “It is his body, but his mind is no longer his own.”
“How is that possible? I thought mind control was just a myth from old.”
“No, it’s possible. It is a dark path with many dangers—which is why I never taught it to you or anyone else. Mind control carries many risks since each person’s mind is unique. Over time it will turn the victim into what you see before you.”
“Then who would have taught Nareash?”
“I don’t know.” Amcaro paused, studying the blank face of the king. “This man will never be more than a risk to everyone he comes in contact with.”
“Then we have no choice.”
Amcaro looked over to Essan and nodded. His eyes returned to the king and then a moment later the man collapsed to the ground next to Acus, as lifeless as the bloody High Mage.
Amcaro stood for a moment, thinking.
I was here only a couple of months ago when the castle was bustling with life. Now only an eerie stillness remains. How could I have missed the signs? How could Nareash come into such power and keep it hidden from me?
Amcaro straightened, mouth tightening as he composed himself. “Come, we mustn’t tarry here any longer.”
Amcaro headed toward a lone staircase in the hall, near the arched doorway to the kitchen. Essan followed close behind, matching his master’s stride.
* * *
Nothing passed between the High Mages as they ascended the stairs to Nareash’s personal quarters. They climbed slowly, pausing at the top of each flight to step over another group of felled guardsmen; many still held unfired crossbows in their hands. Neither of the High Mages bothered checking the rooms on each floor. Amcaro knew they would be filled with more horror, but empty of the man they sought.
During the last two flights of stairs, Amcaro checked over several spells he prepared after leaving the common hall. He felt Essan do the same as they approached an open doorway. Amcaro glanced back at his friend and saw worry and dread beneath his seething anger.
We share the same thoughts, don’t we? I feel the power emanating from the room and I’ve not felt its like for some time.
They exchanged nods. Amcaro was ready to climb the last step before the doorway when a voice came from inside.
“Can we get on with this already? I swear you two move as slow as a couple of old crones.”
The two mages leaped through the door. Bursts of light shot from their hands toward their target, but the attacks seemed to have no effect as Nareash stood opposite them wearing a smug grin. When they realized Nareash had no intention of attacking them, they ceased their attacks, remaining wary of their situation.
“Come now, I hope that wasn’t the best you two had,” said Nareash. “Even Rhindora made a stronger show.” He nodded to the floor.
Amcaro’s gut tightened again at the loss of another of his former students.
Essan bent over to examine the woman’s body after an approving nod from Amcaro. No longer intimidating, she looked small and fragile. “She’s dead,” stated Essan in an emotionless tone.
“Of course,” said Nareash. “She tried to kill me.”
“Then why not attack us?” asked Essan.
As Essan probed Nareash, Amcaro took in his surroundings. Nareash stood at the room’s center, tall and slim with dark hair, his skin tanned bronze. His stance was one of confidence, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. The princess stood several steps behind Nareash. Elyse’s wavy auburn hair framed the fair skin of her face. Hands clasped at her waist, she wore a simple emerald dress that accentuated her light green eyes.
I can feel your bonds, my dear. Nareash, is this your true advantage?
The room was deep but otherwise empty with very little in the way of furniture. Other than a small bed and a simple desk near the window, there was nothing. Various books and papers lay scattered over the floor in uneven stacks and piles.
Nareash shook his head. “Our relationship is far different than the one I shared with that foul woman. I hoped we could come to an understanding.” Nareash flicked his eyes toward Amcaro. “And, Master, without you all of this wouldn’t be possible. The last thing I want is to continue this senseless killing.” His eyes turned dark for a moment. “However, I will do what I must.”
Nareash’s grin broadened. “You have yet to speak, Master.”
“Let the princess go so we can speak in private.”
“Elyse will stay.”
“Is she what all this is about?” asked Amcaro.
Nareash chuckled. “What do you take me for, some teenage boy with a crush? She is easy on the eyes, but the only thing I care about is the power she’ll bring. Besides, you and I both know there is not enough sorcery in the world that can make a woman love.” He sighed. “Women are just too stubborn.” Nareash turned to the princess. “Isn’t that right?”
Elyse stood motionless as if unaware what had been said.
But her eyes… she is still cognizant of her surroundings,
thought Amcaro.
Turning back to the two mages, Nareash continued. “No, as you can see I have to settle for what she is. A beautiful woman trapped in her own mind, unable to let her mouth ruin her appeal.” He paused before chuckling again. “Some would say the perfect woman, no?”
“I don’t know what you’ve become Nareash but you are not the friend I knew,” said Essan.
“Please, self righteousness doesn’t suit you. I would have tried to work something out with
you
at the very least, but like the others it seems your lips are too firmly pressed against our Master’s rear to do anything other than what
he
defines as moral.” Nareash then turned to Amcaro. “Isn’t that right, Master?”
Amcaro didn’t answer, too busy searching for a solution to the situation.
“One Above, I will not be ignored by you.” The sleeves of Nareash’s robes separated revealing his long spindly fingers. In his right hand, he held a short ivory colored scepter.
In a soft whisper, Amcaro spoke, “Sacrynon’s Scepter.”
“They called Sacrynon the Mad Mage in his later years, right?” Nareash’s eyes drifted down absently at the hollow cylinder in his hand.
While Nareash was distracted by the scepter, Amcaro quickly looked to Elyse.
If I could just get some sort of recognition from her that she understands. There. Was that it? Yes dear, you do understand, unfortunately all too well. I hope that you’ll know what to do when the time comes.
Amcaro’s eyes returned to Nareash just as the mage looked up. “You don’t sound surprised that I have it, Master.”
“I had my suspicions after witnessing the destruction you caused. Still, I never imagined you would be such a fool! Don’t you understand that the implement turned Sacrynon into a lunatic?” He paused. “It affects you already, doesn’t it? Where did you find it? Aurnon the First took the scepter to Quoron four hundred years ago, never to return. He was to destroy the abomination.”
“It affects only my power. And obviously, Aurnon the First failed. Imagine my surprise when I discovered one of the most powerful weapons in the world used as a candle holder by a naïve king.” Nareash grinned. “I laughed for days. To have something so powerful and not know it,
that
is truly madness. Who cares how it got there? I have it now.”
Without warning, Essan lashed out at Nareash with blue tendrils of sorcery flowing from his hands. At such close range, the power would send most to the ground in agony. However, Nareash used the scepter to absorb and nullify Essan’s attack. Amcaro joined in and together they sought to overwhelm the deranged man they had once called a friend.
* * *
Elyse’s world was void of sound. In the small room with her were three others and yet she felt completely alone. Since discovering her father’s manipulation weeks ago, Nareash had kept her in a state where she was unable to communicate with anyone. She could not move, speak, nor even hear unless he chose to allow it. Mostly, the High Mage gave her only sight, generous he had he said in giving her anything at all.
The only proof I have of existence is watching life go by around me.
Today she realized that the shred of mercy Nareash had granted her was the cruelest thing of all. She had watched the High Mage burn and murder all she held dear. Anyone and everyone fell under his wrath and she was the sole living witness to it. At first, she was thankful she could not hear the cries of despair, but without that distraction she was more attuned to the expressed anguish in each victim’s face as it twisted in pain.
And she was unable to look away.
The silent screams still echoed in her deaf ears, the images forever etched into her memories. During the ordeal she prayed ceaselessly to the One Above. She prayed for just one moment free of constraint to help them.
Maybe I could have used that moment to shout a word of warning or even whisper one of comfort. No doubt I would be dead as well, but isn’t death better than this?
Now the same scene repeated itself before her eyes, only the actors were different. Elyse watched in bitter anguish, helpless again as the last two people able to stop her nightmare lived their last moments. She knew they would die just as all the others had today. Even Amcaro, a man she thought of as more of a father than her own looked doubtful about the task before him.
If the resolve of one as powerful as he falters, then what hope do I have?