A Sorcerer's Son

Epic Fantasy / 7000 words

PREFACE: It’s time for another Reikk adventure! There will be magic, mystery, action… oh, and did I mention magic? Hope you enjoy it.

Some claim that magic is a gift from the gods. I don’t know if I agree with this. Sometimes it feels more like a curse. I’ll grant you it has saved my life more than once, but it has done nothing to help me recover my memories. And, truth be told, I would give all my powers away if it could give me back my past.

There are many reasons why I often think of magic as a curse. First and foremost, how else would I have lost those precious memories, had it not been through magic? It is the most likely explanation that I can think of.

And then, there are the looks people give me. In most worlds I have visited, there is little love for spellcasters. I can’t say that I blame them, as magic is, more often than not, the cause of all the troubles people have to endure.

Those were my thoughts as I traveled south, searching for Ghurdhim Pass and an old man named Ztaran.

***

It was a grey and misty day when I arrived in Sul Annith. There were few people in the streets, but all of them looked grim or gloomy, and all of them threw me the types of looks I’d grown accustomed to—fear, disgust, hatred.

I’d also learned to ignore them, so I rode through quietly.

I sought and found an inn.

Leaving my horse in the care of an old man who did not seem to like me—but liked my coins just fine—, I stepped into the dimly lit and noisy room.

I will spare you the tediousness of what followed. Suffice it to say: I ate, I drank, I slept.

In the morning, I found someone waiting for me in the barn when I went for my horse.

The girl was in her late teens, with red hair and freckles all over her face. What struck me most about her, though, was the resolve in her eyes, which clearly outweighed any fear that would otherwise have stopped her from approaching me.

“You are Reikk?” she asked.

I nodded as I tied my bag to the saddle.

“They say you help people. Is this true?”

It never ceases to amaze me how people will fear me, and yet have this deep-seated belief that I help others. While it is true that I do, and that the fear is irrational, how can these opposites coexist in the same mind?

I paused and looked at the girl.

“What is it you need help with... And what was your name again?”

She blushed.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m Anya. It’s my boyfriend, you see, he has disappeared. It’s been two days, and I’m worried sick. I’m sure someone must have hurt him!”

I quirked a brow.

“Why would someone hurt him?”

She looked away while fiddling with a ring on her finger.

“Because everyone here hates him,” she muttered. “They seem happy enough that he’s gone.”

“He’s a kid too, I suppose?”

She glared at me.

“We’re not kids! We’re both eighteen. Well, Asthrael isn’t yet, but he will be soon.”

“I see. What about his parents? Shouldn’t they be the ones looking for him?”

“Will you help me or not?” she asked impatiently.

I shrugged as I turned back to my horse and jumped on the saddle.

“If so many folks dislike him,” I remarked, “it’s likely he skipped town. It’s not like it’s never happened before.”

“He wouldn’t have left me here!” she countered. “Please! No one else cares about him.”

I thought about this for a moment, then looked down at her.

“Tell me this, then. Why do people hate him?”

Again, she looked away. I could feel her struggling to get the words out. But she did, eventually.

“His father,” she groaned. “He was an evil man. A sorcerer. He terrorized the village for years. Until he was killed.”

That got my attention.

“How long ago?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Four, maybe five years.”

“How did he die?”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest, frowning.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

I glanced outside the barn. The sky was still gray. I could sense rain in the air. A good reason to stay a little longer, I suppose.

Though I realized I would also have stayed had the sun been shining bright. A sorcerer’s son was intriguing. Granted, it was more the sorcerer than the son who interested me...

That was not true, of course, but I only understood later why the girl had sucked me in from the start.

People were afraid of the boy. Because of his father.

It was... an irrational fear.

I knew something about that.

“Fine,” I said. “I will help you.”

***

I needed more information, but Anya did not know much more.

When I asked about the boy’s parents, I was told the father—whose name was Sammael—once returned from a trip with a baby. The mother’s identity was never revealed, though there were many theories—ranging from the grim (he had forced himself upon a village girl) to the outlandish (a demoness mother) to the preposterous (the child was a gift from a goddess).

As for the father’s fate, it was a matter of public knowledge. Two associates of Sammael’s came riding into town one day with an unknown woman. All three went into the sorcerer’s house and dragged him out. The men were furious, but the woman was calm. She accused Sammael of plotting against the king. They wanted to take him away, but he resisted and attacked them. The woman must have been a powerful sorceress herself, because she won the battle and killed the accused in the process.

Anya knew nothing further of the incident—even less why the accusation had been made, or why his former associates had turned against him.

It was a good start, but it still wasn’t enough.

I resolved to speak with those who had been most vocal against the boy.

Anya gave me a list and I went to work.

The first I approached was a man called Sarash. He had often insulted the boy and accused him of various crimes.

He was a tall blonde with a scar on his right cheek. His dark brown eyes squinted at me when I asked him about Asthrael.

“What is it to you?” he asked.

“His girlfriend wants to know what happened to him.”

He turned his head and spat on the ground.

“She should have stayed away from that scum. I’ve told her more than once. But no, she wouldn’t listen.”

“Could we focus on Asthrael?”

The man shrugged. “He’s gone, that’s all I know. And good riddance, too.”

“Why?”

He squinted at me again.

“Why what?”

“Why good riddance?”

“I said he was scum, didn’t I? Who needs scum in their village? Not us, that’s for sure.”

“Why?”

“Again with that?”

I smiled. “Why do you call him scum?”

Sarash grunted. “He’s a no-good demon-child thief, that’s why. And there are plenty other reasons, too. We don’t need people like him here.”

“So you took care of it?”

“What?”

“What did you do to the boy?”

The man’s jaw tightened—as did his fists.

“Now look here, stranger, you had better be careful what words come out of that filthy mouth of yours. People around here don’t like being called names.”

“You sure seem to like calling others names, though.”

The squint deepened.

“I think you should leave.”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

As I walked away, I heard him call out.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t do it. Though I wish I had!”

I already knew that, however.

While we were talking, I had probed his mind. It never really matters what answers they give, because the simple phrasing of a question always brings the truth out in a person’s thoughts.

He was innocent and had no idea who had done this.

After going through five other suspects with the same result, I went back to my room and lay on my bed to think.

***

They all had motives—however misplaced they were—yet none of them had been involved in the boy’s abduction. Assuming it was an abduction, which was yet to be proven.

I still liked my idea of him running away.

Maybe he’d had enough and decided it was time for him to explore the world out there.

Leaving Anya behind.

She couldn’t imagine him doing something like that, but perhaps he wasn’t as attached to her as she thought he was.

I decided I needed more information.

About the father, specifically.

If Asthrael had been abducted, and the villagers weren’t involved, then maybe there was a connection to the father.

Every time I brought up his name, however, most folks would clam up and look away. A few would get angry and start cursing at me.

So I went back to Anya.

“Tell me about Sammael,” I said as we sat at a table in the inn.

She frowned. “I told you he was bad, didn’t I?”

“I believe you mentioned it, yes. But I need to know more.”

“Why?”

It was cold outside, so I had chosen a table close to the fireplace. Plus, I’ve always enjoyed the smell of burnt wood.

“It might help me find Asthrael.”

The frown vanished, replaced with concern.

“You think there could be a connection?”

“I’m not ruling it out.”

She sighed and nodded. She remained quiet for a moment as she sipped from her mug.

“Well, there’s not that much I can tell you that I haven’t already. He used his magic to gain power over everyone and ruled like a tyrant.”

“Does he have any other family here, aside from Asthrael?”

“No. He wasn’t born here. From what I’ve been told, he was dropped off by soldiers. They were laughing at him as they left. He was in bad shape, at the time. Like he’d been in a fight and got beaten to a pulp. The mayor’s wife took him in and nursed him back to health. He thanked her by placing both her and her husband under his spell—”

“Does anyone know where he came from?”

“The mayor or his wife might have, I suppose. They were closest to him. But if they did, they took that secret to the grave.”

“He killed them?”

“No. The mayor was old and just died in his sleep one night. The wife kind of lost her mind after that. Many think Sammael caused it, though. One day, she went into the woods and no one ever saw her again. Eaten by wolves, probably. That’s the general assumption, though nobody ever found any evidence of this.”

“What happened then?”

Anya shrugged. “By this point, Sammael was already ruling over the village, so he just kept going.”

“He became the new mayor?”

“Why bother? Everyone was already under his spell. He needed no title. Didn’t even appoint anyone else. Just did everything he wanted, and no one could stop him.”

I sat back in my chair, pondering.

There was a lot to unwrap in all of this information, though I couldn’t see anything I could use at this point.

“Let’s talk about the day he died,” I said.

“I already told you about that,” she remarked.

“You did. But... You said the two men who came that day were associates of his? Can you tell me about them?”

“Not really. I was too young to remember them. All I know is that they would come to visit him once a year. They were friendly with him until that final time.”

“What would they talk about?”

“Nobody knows. They’d always lock themselves up in his house. The next day they’d come out and ride out.”

Well, that was no help at all.

I sighed as I drank from my mug.

What was I missing?

Something was bothering me about this whole mess, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Can I ask you something?”

I blinked and looked up at the girl, who was studying me curiously.

“Sure.”

“Everyone is afraid of you, and yet nobody really knows who you are... How is this possible?”

I laughed, though there was no joy in me.

“I don’t know. But it is always like this, everywhere I go.”

It was interesting that she had noticed it. Even more so that she had voiced it aloud. This had never happened before.

“Where do you come from?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, Reikk?”

I fell silent for a long while as I stared into the crackling flames of the fireplace. When I spoke again, it was in a low and sad voice.

“There is not much that I remember. Only fragments, like pieces of a puzzle. Images of another world—one that I have yet to find in my travels; of places and faces once familiar to me, but that now mean nothing. Some memories have been coming back, though.”

“Such as?”

A snow-peaked mountain with tunnels underneath. Though I did not remember it, I knew I had gone within, into those dark depths. Something had happened there.

I made a dismissive gesture.

“It doesn’t matter. It happened a long time ago, to a different person.”

I knew this to be true as well. Whatever had happened under that mountain had changed me.

“How did you learn magic?” she asked.

I stared at her, then laughed.

“A child taught me.”

She must have thought I was mocking her, because she turned away with a look of annoyance.

“It’s true,” I said softly. “Not everything, of course, but he taught me the basics. And...”

I paused and frowned.

She looked at me with a quirked brow.

“And what?”

“You said Asthrael was going to turn eighteen?”

The change of subject startled the girl. She blinked and nodded.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, actually.”

That somehow felt significant. I couldn’t say why just yet, but I was now convinced the boy was in danger. And that he would be dead by midnight, if he wasn’t already.

“Are there any other mages in town?” I asked.

“Just one. His name is Lhudin. He lives down the road in the big blue house that—”

“Thanks! I’ll be in touch.”

I jumped out of my chair and hurried out.

***

The man was old. With barely any hair left on his skull. Two small black eyes stared at me through furrowed brows.

“I know you,” he muttered.

Pushing him aside, I stepped into his house. It was rude, but time was of the essence.

“What do you know about Asthrael?” I asked.

Lhudin blinked a couple of times, then closed the door and turned to face me.

“Poor boy. Life hasn’t been kind to him.”

That caught my attention.

“The people here do seem to show an unwarranted level of hostility toward him.”

He made a dismissive gesture as he walked past me, heading toward a half-open door at the end of the hall.

“No, no, not that. His father.”

“Ah, yes. Sammael.”

He glanced at me over his shoulder.

“You knew him?”

“I’m starting to.”

He snorted as he went through the door. I followed.

“The man was a dangerous maniac. He had no business raising a child.”

“Why did he?”

Lhudin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You never asked him?”

He threw me a frightened look.

“And get myself killed? No, no. I kept to myself. It was bad enough that I was a mage in the same town as him.”

“What do you mean?”

The room we had stepped into was a laboratory. A table in the middle was covered with accessories. A scent of burnt herbs lingered in the air as he paused and looked around his installation.

“How do you think a powerful and tyrannical mage would feel about having another mage near him?”

“I see. What did you do?”

“Kept a low profile, that’s what I did.” He shrugged as he grabbed a vial and poured its green contents into an empty one. “As any sensible person would have done.”

I walked around the table so I would be opposite him.

“Tell me about the boy.”

He frowned as he poured another liquid—blue, this one—into the same vial. The mixture bubbled and changed to a vivid red.

“What is there to tell? He is the son of a wicked man.”

“Did you teach him anything?”

His eyes darted up to look into mine.

“What?”

I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “You know exactly what I mean. I suspect he wasn’t too fond of his father and sought some means to protect himself that he couldn’t learn from his own father.”

He grunted. “That man was not his father.”

“What do you know about that?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. “I just know he couldn’t possibly be his biological father.”

“Why not?”

He threw his arms in the air, which emptied the contents of the vial he still held.

“What would he do with a baby? It makes no sense! A man like him? If it really was his, he would have let whoever the mother was take care of him. No, there was purpose there. To want the child, the child had to be significant in some way. And thus, it could not be his.”

I could see the logic in his thinking, though I could also imagine a few scenarios that would destroy his theory. But we were drifting away from the subject. So I brought us back on course.

“When was the last time you saw Asthrael?”

“Last week,” he grudgingly answered. “He was with that girl, Anya. Walking down the street.”

I could see in his mind that he wasn’t lying.

There was no evil in this man either.

Old age, incompetence, but no evil.

“Are there any other mages around here?”

He snorted. “Of course not! This isn’t a big city, you know. They’re lucky enough to have me.” His eyes went back to the table. He groaned and shook his head. “No, no, no! This will never do. I need more thyme!”

Walking over to a shelf, he rummaged through it, cursing.

“No more thyme, of course! No more mushrooms. No more bat wings. No more nothing! What, what... How do they expect me to get any work done?”

“Aside from the bat wings, those are fairly common ingredients,” I remarked. “Perhaps a walk in the woods would help,” I added as I turned to walk away.

“Ha! You would think so, wouldn’t you?” He looked at me with annoyance. “I haven’t found a mushroom in weeks! And I have to walk miles if I want any chance of finding basil or dill or even a snippet of thyme.”

I froze in my steps and stared at him.

“And this has been going on for weeks?”

“It has,” he muttered as he tossed a worn leather jacket on his back, grabbed a staff, and pushed past me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some walking to do.”

He went out and slammed the door behind him.

***

Leaving aside the fact that those were not the most potent herbs to use in a spell, it troubled me that they had become so scarce. So much so that I thought it might be worth investigating.

It was early in the afternoon, but dark clouds hid the sun. Cold gripped me as I headed into the forest, tightening the vest around me.

By now, I had a theory.

My latest conversation with Anya had made me realize that magic could be at the heart of this affair. Which helped reveal what had been troubling me.

Nine is a sacred number in sacramant lore. And the boy was about to turn eighteen—which, of course, is a multiple of nine.

It could have been a coincidence, of course. And with no mages around other than that incompetent old man, I thought for a moment I had chased a wild goose. But then Lhudin had mentioned how difficult it had become to find ingredients for his spells.

Could it be that there were others here, hiding in the wild?

It would explain so much.

I looked long and hard, but I could find no mushrooms, no dill... and so many other common herbs were missing. For a trained eye, it was just as obvious that people had come here. Many and often.

With a Word and a Gesture, I brought up my veil and looked through it.

There were traces of magic everywhere.

Gotcha!

I grinned and followed the trail.

***

The trail ended at the entrance of a cave.

It brought back memories of a snow-peaked mountain, and I shuddered.

Still, there was no way around it. The boy was here—he had to be—and I needed to get him out before they sacrificed him.

I had no idea why they were doing this, but since sacramant was involved, a sacrifice was likely.

Hidden behind some bushes, I waited a moment to see if there was any activity. Within ten minutes, two men came out. Five minutes later, a third one went in. That one carried a bag that reeked of horse dung.

I decided to follow him, as the stink would make it hard to lose him.

It was dark for the first ten feet, but then I saw a glimmer of light. As we walked on, the darkness was slowly dispelled by torches that hung on the walls—though long shadows followed us now. I worried the man would notice mine, but his attention remained focused in front of him, and I kept my distance.

We went past many branches, but he knew where he was going and never once hesitated. I made a mental map of all the turns we took so I could make my way back later.

He finally stopped in front of a wooden door, unlocked it with a key he had in his pocket, tossed the bag inside, and locked the door back up.

Hearing footsteps coming from a different direction, I leaned back against the wall and tried to melt into the shadows. I could have used a spell, but it would have required some Words and I worried they would hear me.

A woman appeared at the turn of the corridor. She wrinkled her nose when she saw him.

“No wonder it stinks!”

The guy grunted. “Save me your snide remarks, Aella. I have better things to do than—”

“No you don’t,” she interrupted. “We’re all summoned for a meeting.”

“Again?” He threw his arms in the air. “What does he want from us already?”

“You know what he wants.”

The man grunted. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well, you had better stop making speeches and come with me.” She made a face. “Keep your distance, though. That stink is disgusting.”

She continued down the hall, and the man followed her with a groan.

After waiting a moment, I slid after them, hugging the wall. I’d considered staying behind, but then what? I still had no clue where the kid was held. Following them might not answer that, but it could give me some insight into what they had in mind.

Of course, I could always capture one of them. I’d considered grabbing the man, but then the woman had shown up. I could still pull it off, maybe, but I wasn’t sure how powerful they were and was wary to probe their minds, in case it would set off any alarms.

So I followed them.

We soon reached a large stone chamber where a dozen men and women had gathered. More shortly arrived. After a couple of minutes, I counted thirty-two of them.

That was off, I realized. If sacramant was involved, it should be a multiple of nine. Which meant there were at least four of them missing.

Either way, there were too many of them for me to try anything. Even assuming they were not powerful, those numbers were against me.

There was a lot of chattering in the room, though I couldn’t make out any specific comments. But they all hushed when a white-robed man stepped in.

He lifted his arms, scanning all the faces.

“My beloved brothers! My beloved sisters!” he called out in a booming voice. “The time has finally come. Tonight, we shall spill the blood of our guest to open the way for our brethren.” A shudder went down my spine. “I gather you all here now to gift you each with the ultimate gift. A feather from the fabled fhaun.”

I glued myself even more to the wall.

This was not good.

Not good at all.

The white-robed man turned sideways, made a Gesture, and the air shimmered next to him. There, a large black box appeared. He opened it and took out a long and thin feather that was blue at the bottom and gradually changed color until it became orange at the tip. He waved it around, then stepped forward and handed it to the man nearest him.

“Take this, and go cast your part of the spell.”

The man bowed his head and walked off.

The leader went back to the box, took another feather, and gave it to another one of the mages. He repeated the same words, and again the man bowed and left.

As this went on, I shook myself back into action.

I needed to do something.

Quietly, I moved back toward the tunnel and waited for one of the mages to come my way.

To do whatever they had planned, they would each need to be in isolation. So it was a simple matter of following one, and jumping them when they’d be setting up their spell.

Easiest thing in the world.

***

Five minutes later, the man lay sprawling at my feet. I’d knocked him at the back of his head—likely a bit too hard, as he now was out cold.

I realized this spell would not have finalized the ritual, since some of them were missing. All thirty-six would need to be involved—multiple of nine and all that. Still, I couldn’t take any chances. And if I could stall them in the process, all the better.

I knelt next to the mage and slapped him awake.

He jerked back toward the wall, blinking.

“Who are you?” he barked.

“Not the issue,” I said. “Where is your prisoner?”

He frowned. “What pri—” I slapped him again. “Hey!”

“You’ll answer the question if you don’t want me to burn your insides with a nice little spell I learned years ago.”

I moved my fingers in such a way that I knew he’d recognize the Gesture.

His face paled.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “I’ll tell you. But you won’t get out of here alive!”

“Let me worry about that.”

Reluctantly, he gave me instructions to find the boy’s cell. Once he was done, I leaned to grab the feather that lay on the floor and stood.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” I muttered.

“Hey! I need that!”

“Not anymore, you don’t.”

Stepped out, I closed the door behind me. I paused, my hand resting a moment against the leaf. Heat coursed down my arm, through my fingers, and into the wood as I muttered a couple of Words.

This would keep him locked in for at least an hour.

Unless someone came looking for him, that is. Any mage with a modicum of skill would easily lift the spell. It was very basic stuff. Still, it could buy me some time. And I had none to spare to cast something more elaborate.

I hurried down the closest tunnel, following the man’s instructions to the letter, until I came to another wooden door. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

Drawing my sword, I brought it down hard on the knob. There was a loud clinking noise as it split in two, half of it falling to the ground, the other half dangling from the surface.

With my luck, someone would have heard that.

I kicked the door, and it broke open.

A young man with blonde hair was sitting on a dirty cot, staring at me with wide eyes.

“I assume you are Asthrael?”

The boy nodded. “Did you come to kill me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Why would I break down the door if I were with those fools? Come. Your girl sent me.”

He brightened up. “Anya? Really?”

“Yes, really. Now could you hurry up? I—”

His eyes had gone down as I spoke, widening more than I would have thought possible.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at my sword.

I looked down and saw it was glowing.

“Damn it! Not now...”

I reached over to the kid, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up.

“What is going on?” he asked in a panic.

I closed my eyes and focused, picturing my room at the inn. It was time to port out of here.

I voiced a Word, and...

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and looked around, blinking.

“Great. Just great.”

Whatever block was in place did not stop magic in general, but it did make it impossible to port out.

I brought up my veil and studied my surroundings.

The walls glowed a light blue.

It was not a spell, though. The stone itself had magical properties.

What was this place?

I could sense the rocks pulsing.

“What is going on?” repeated Asthrael, with a higher pitch than before.

I killed the veil and walked out of the cell. Still holding the boy’s arm, I dragged him behind me as I rushed down the hall.

“We’re in deep shit, that’s what’s going on.” I glanced at the boy and saw his confused look. I lifted my still glowing blade. “This is Firnenth. And she only glows when there is a devkin nearby.”

I wondered for a moment if the mages had somehow managed to open that portal... but no, that was impossible. Their intended sacrifice was alive and well, running next to me.

This had to be something else.

“A what?”

We turned into a side tunnel and froze in our steps.

Glancing at my sword, I saw it glowed even brighter now.

In front of us were three mages...

But one of them was not human.

***

There are multiple worlds out there—I would know, I’ve traveled through many. But there are also planes of reality. Those are of a very different nature.

Worlds are made for men, even if there are other creatures there sometimes.

Planes are not made for men. In most of those places, humans would either die or go mad.

But sometimes, a rip would form, allowing passage between planes. Creatures could slip through these. Creatures that did not belong in the worlds of men.

Devkins.

Some of them had the power to change their appearance, but they remained formidable opponents regardless of their shells.

I could normally have handled three minor mages, but if—as was most likely—one of these was a devkin, I could be in serious trouble.

The question was: which one was it?

All three looked ordinary.

And pissed.

The one in the middle pointed an accusing finger at me.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving. Now, if you’ll please excuse us...”

The three spread out across the hall, blocking the way.

“Well that’s just rude,” I muttered.

“Tell you what,” said mage #2. This one stood on the right and had a small scar on his chin. “Leave our prisoner here and we’ll grant you a quick death.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, though,” added mage #3. “I want to hear you scream.”

Standing on the right, the latter had a smirk on his face and a gleam in his eyes that I did not like.

All three had short black hair and wore a bland brown tunic.

The first one glanced at #3 and snorted as he looked back at me. “He would, too. That one’s a little insane.”

I glanced at all three of them, trying to think fast.

Would a devkin consider adding a scar to their face? They could be smart, but that would have been overkill. The third mage felt like a better contender... except a devkin would have been smart enough to not be so obvious, wouldn’t it?

Which left #1.

I locked eyes with him.

“What about you?”

He blinked. “What about me?”

“What would you like to do to me?”

He stared at me for a moment, then shrugged.

“Nothing personal, but you’ve invaded our space. That gives us rights...”

I chuckled. “Does it now? And who allowed you to hole up in here? I doubt the villagers would approve.”

Mage #3 snorted. “Why are we wasting time speaking with this creep? Let’s kill him and be done with it already.”

He started forward, but the guy in the middle lifted a hand to stop him, never turning his gaze away from me.

“No,” he said softly. “This one’s powerful.”

“How would you know that?”

“I can feel it.” I thought this confirmed what I suspected. “Besides, no one would be crazy enough to come here all alone if they didn’t have some confidence in their skills.” For a split second, he looked troubled, and that made me wary. “And I feel like I know him. The red hair, the sword...” He squinted. “Is it glowing?”

I smiled. “You noticed, eh?”

“Hard to miss,” he muttered.

I felt the boy shifting uncomfortably behind me.

“What are we going to do?” he whispered.

Ignoring him, I lifted Firnenth.

“This, you see, is a special weapon. It senses things.” I looked at each of them in turn, paying close attention to their reactions. “As I’m sure one of you knows.”

But I had already guessed who the devkin was.

My eyes stopped on #3.

“What do you—” started #1.

Before he could finish his question, I turned and swung my blade hard at #2.

The creature hissed as it jumped back. I’d still managed to slash through its robe, and a thick green liquid oozed from the wound. It sizzled as it touched the stone floor, digging a small fuming hole.

The two remaining men moved quickly to the side, staring at their friend.

“What is this?” asked #1.

“That,” I answered, “is a particularly smart and vicious creature that has no place in this world.”

Even as I spoke, the fake mage’s shape shimmered and changed, taking volume. I was glad we were in an underground tunnel, as it limited how much it could grow.

The only problem was that my blade hadn’t gone deep enough. It wouldn’t have killed it—that was not Firnenth’s purpose, after all—it would only have sent it back to its own plane.

It now looked like a giant lizard, with yellow scales and a hideous face covered with spikes and horns.

I kept my eyes on the creature as I spoke.

“All this charade was your idea, wasn’t it?”

It took a step backward, looking between me and its former friends, who were now waving their hands around, Gesturing protective spells around them.

The creature looked back at me and hissed, though it did not respond.

“Let me guess,” I said as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” cried out a panicked Asthrael.

Again, I ignored him.

“You have no interest in going back, or you would have let Firnenth hit you. So if you don’t want to leave, then the portal can only have one other function. You want to bring more of your kind here.”

“It matters not what you think,” it finally said in a deep and guttural voice. “You cannot kill me.”

I would have preferred it not to remind me of this truth. Humans can not kill creatures from another plane—they can only be killed there. It goes both ways, mind you. If a human were to travel to their plane, they could not be harmed by any creature there. There would still be danger, of course, but it would be of a different nature. A human mind can not endure the horrors of such places.

But just like a human could, theoretically, kill a devkin in its own realm, a devkin could kill humans in this world.

Which is why I had no intention of letting it stay.

“And if you send me back,” it added, as if it had read my mind, “I would just come back to feast on your flesh.”

Was it true? Did it know a way to go back and forth?

No. It couldn’t be.

Surely, it must be bluffing.

That was when I recalled the walls.

I was careful to keep my eyes set on the creature while I quickly considered my options.

While magic could affect a devkin, I did not dare sheath my sword, which limited me to Words and one hand Gestures. Which might not be enough. This required a powerful spell—but the more powerful a spell was, the more complex it became to cast. It would also require more focus and time than I was comfortable allowing myself.

But...

That brief glimpse I’d had of the walls had shown me something crucial.

I could use them to channel magic, to amplify a smaller spell and make it stronger.

As often, it would all be in the timing.

The only problem was that the creature was watching me much too closely. It would sense anything I tried before—

“Now look here!” cried out Asthrael as he walked past me and toward the devkin. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I won’t have any of it! Do you know who my father is?”

I cringed at the boy’s folly. I was going to stop him when I saw the creature turn its head to look at the child.

“I know exactly what you are, little one. And before this night is over, you will have served your purpose.”

While the devkin spoke, I weaved my spell with a few quick Gestures and held it all together with a knot. Voicing a key Word would now be enough to throw my net.

“Yeah, well...” The boy didn’t sound so confident now. “I have better things to do than—”

“Shut up, Asthrael.”

The child jumped and spun to look at me.

“What?”

“Step back behind me and be quiet. I will take care of this.”

He didn’t move, but he stopped talking, a frown on his face.

The devkin was looking at me again, squinting.

“You think you can beat me, sorcerer?”

I smiled as I stepped forward.

“You know I can.”

It roared and lunged at me.

“Sammael,” I breathed.

The creature hit an invisible wall and recoiled, howling in pain.

I took the last few steps to reach it, and plunged my blade deep into its chest.

More of its greenish blood oozed out.

Had my sword been a normal one, the substance would have eaten through it. But it held, for this was its purpose.

The creature’s shape shimmered again, though now it shrunk until it was no more.

At the same time, the glow of my sword dimmed, until it faded completely.

I looked at the two mages.

They stood there, staring at where the creature had been, mouths gaping wide.

“So, folks, are you going to give me any trouble?”

Mage #1 slowly turned his head to look at me and shook it.

His friend was still too dazed to react. I figured he wouldn’t be a problem, at least not for a while, so I sheathed my sword and grabbed the boy’s arm.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He pulled away.

“No!”

I stared at him. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m tired of being bossed around. My dad always did that, and I hated it.” He crossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why these people took me and what all this was about?”

I glanced at the two mages.

“Care to explain it to him?” I asked.

Mage #1 sighed as his gaze turned to Asthrael. “We’ve been watching you for years, waiting for you to turn eighteen. Our leader claimed there was power inside you that we could channel to open a gateway between here and...”

He trailed off as he looked toward the spot where the devkin had been.

“You thought you could bring some of your friends back from the dead, didn’t you?” I had guessed as much from hearing their leader’s speech earlier.

He grimaced and nodded. “Yes. But we didn’t know—”

“Of course not. He was in disguise. He must have planted those thoughts inside your leader’s head.”

“The king unjustly murdered our friends,” he complained. “We were no threat to him or his kingdom. All we wanted was to be left alone. With this ritual, we would build an army of mages and wage war upon him.”

I wasn’t so sure about the ‘no threat’ part. They practiced sacramant magic, after all. That was no small thing.

“And you would have killed me for that?” asked the boy.

Instead of turning toward Asthrael, the mage looked straight into my eyes.

“Wouldn’t you have?”

“No.” I glanced back at the boy. “You have your answers now. If you want to stay here, that’s your call, but I’m leaving. So I guess I’ll see you around—or not.”

I started toward the exit and soon heard Asthrael catching up to me.

“Hey, wait up!”

We made our way back to the village, and I delivered him to Anya.

The two kissed.

There may have been tears shed, but I wouldn’t know.

I was already gone.

Want to read more of Reikk’s adventures? Check out these titles, if you haven’t already:

• Deathbringer

• The Songs of War

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Text (c) 2023 by Alex S. Garcia.

Header: royalty-free stock image, edited by me.

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