Kalceron

  Magical Authority can be compared to an heir who is inheriting the well-managed estate of his father. The boy grows up with many restrictions, his word bearing little to no weight at first, for he is just a boy. As he grows up and earns his place, his word means more. If he abuses it, there are repercussions. The more his father trusts him, the more rope he is given to work with, until at last his father entrusts to him the key to the entire mansion and command of his servants and guard. His subjects will obey him in proportion to how genuine his inheritance is, and will love him or fear him according to how he treats them. They will begrudgingly obey or readily jump to do his bidding depending on how easily he earned his title. A master who has worked for his rightful position will command more loyalty, no? And one who abuses his power may someday find that he cannot maintain the grip of his own authority.

  — From Secrets of Mani, by Sor the Lark

  (Dri’Shal 25, 997—Dawn)

  All words from those inside ceased, and all eyes turned on Rhidea and me. The hall was large and spacious, mostly bare except for tall stained-glass windows and silver pillars. Upon each pillar hung tapestries depicting ancient monarchs of Nytaea’s past, with bracketed torches beneath them casting eerie light and conflicting shadows around the hall.

  “What is the meaning of this?” roared Lord Kalceron, rising from his throne with anger written large upon his face. Despite the horrifying stories told of the man, he was little more than five-and-a-half feet tall, and he only maintained a certain level of intimidating appearance because he stood three steps up from the rest of the floor. That and the black cape that he seemed to wear perpetually, which had lain draped over the side of the throne and now slid with his rising.

  Rhidea strode into the audience chamber, and I followed right on her heels. “Kalceron, Kalceron,” she said admonishingly. “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

  They glared at each other from across the hall for a long moment, until Lord Kalceron made a hand gesture to the two mage soldiers and they nodded and moved Mydia, still struggling, out of the way.

  “Hespian, Lorta,” he said, “is that the girl whom you apprehended but failed to catch?”

  He waved a hand in my direction, and I felt my illusion slip off like oil. I gasped, raising a hand to my face, pulling a lock of hair over my shoulder to see that it was indeed pale silver again.

  Hespian frowned, looking at me in a new light. “Yes. That is her.”

  “You!” shrieked Lorta. “I swore to make you pay and I’ll still follow through on that—”

  “Enough,” Kalceron declared. Addressing me, he said, “So, you are the mysterious, white-haired girl I’ve been searching for.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “Why? Why did you want me? And can you please let Mydia go now?”

  “Hmm . . . I’m not sure I can answer that question right now. But . . . Hespian, Lorta, let the girl go. I have no need of her information any longer, for the girl I desire has come right into my hands.”

  The mage captain and his underling let Mydia go finally, giving her a cue to stay put. She gave a small hmph! and crossed her arms, probably putting on a bold front in order to not break down crying. “Pigs,” she grumbled.

  Rhidea strode calmly down the aisle toward the throne, looking up at Lord Kalceron. “Edrius, why are you doing this? You used to be my friend, but now . . . every command you make serves your own self, applauding evil and outlawing good. Your motives are twisted so far from what they once were. I hardly recognize you anymore.”

  Hespian and Lorta stood by, calmly but awkwardly waiting to see what their lord’s reaction would be. Mydia looked around as though seeking a good corner to run and hide in. I couldn’t help feeling bad for her.

  “Motives? You talk like you know me closely,” Kalceron replied, stepping down from his throne and onto the ornate, narrow rug which lined the aisleway. “You’ve been gone for many a year. And you, my dear old friend . . . Cae Rhidea, you are stuck in the same rut you were when we last crossed paths. You never long for change—change from your stale old ways that fool Gendric taught you?” His voice dripped with venomous mockery.

  Rhidea brought her head back, chin raised in a gesture of proud indignation. “Are you insulting our mentor? The greatest sage still alive today? You think yourself better?”

  Kalceron scowled. “Don’t throw those cheap lines at me! I used to respect the man, but he has grown a fool in his old age. You think I serve myself, but everything I do is for a higher purpose. Archlord Domon showed me a new path long ago. Now you, you could be great . . . but you wouldn’t join us, now, would you?”

  Now this is interesting. I hadn’t heard about their connection before. It was curious to watch this spat between old colleagues in the magic community. As I stood, hanging back and watching, my mentor and my enemy came face-to-face and stopped, staring each other down. Rhidea was a couple inches taller than he, and her very presence gave off a . . . regality . . . that Kalceron could not match. He had the authority, but not the noble air of Rhidea. I felt a new respect for her rise within me. Was I going to witness a battle between the two strongest magi in Nytaea?

  “No,” Rhidea finally said flatly. “You know my word stays firm. Your Umbra Council can burn for all I care.”

  Kalceron smirked. “Very well, then. It looks like we have ourselves a duel here.”

  “With pleasure. Lyn! Take out the other two!” Striding toward the mage king, Rhidea pulled a silver blade out of thin air. She twirled it around, and it changed form, once, twice, before sweeping to clash against . . . something, a wave of darkness that came from Kalceron’s hand. I didn’t let my eyes linger, but instead dashed over to do as she said. Hespian and Lorta stepped away from Mydia to engage me. I blasted fire toward Lorta and watched her face change to a look of shock upon seeing that I could use Coaction now. She dodged it nimbly and proceeded to circle me, silver blade held out warily. “Well, well,” she purred, “So you have some other secrets.”

  My eyes flicked from the cat-faced woman to Captain Hespian, who tried to flank me from the right, holding a wicked bronze dagger. Behind him, Mydia scampered back, and I gave her a nod to say, Run away while you have the chance.

  I drew my bronze knives and glanced about me. No one else was in the hall but for Mydia, who crouched behind a pillar. If only Kaen were here. Wait, I realized, looking back briefly, Rhidea and Lord Kalceron are . . . gone? I could neither see nor hear them. But I also didn’t have time to look. Instead, I spun and rushed for Hespian.

  He was ready. The large man immediately took up a guarding stance, readying a spell of some sort. I shot a firebolt at Hespian—one of the few tricks of fire Coaction that I actually knew—and then leaped upwards over his head. He predictably blocked the flames with a water spell, but I flew right over his defense and seized his helmeted head. Spinning my legs in the air, I threw the captain by his helmet to one side while I dropped to the ground in an ungraceful spray of skirts in the other direction. I landed just as heavily as he did, but recovered faster.

  Lorta was upon me immediately. She lunged in for a low sword thrust, forcing me to roll toward the far wall. I sprang back to my feet, gritting my teeth at the new bruises I’d just acquired, and hopped back a couple of paces—toward Mydia. I wanted to keep them away from her at all costs. Lorta snarled characteristically and crept toward me. Given her lightning abilities that could shock and stun, I wanted to stay far out of her range.

  Hespian was on his feet now, holding his head, having ripped off his helmet and tossed it aside. He was a large, stout man, and would not go down so easily.

  Lorta went on the attack once more, stepping forward to swipe at me with her blade. I made a split-second decision and went for her legs, sweeping them out from under her. She caught the ground with a clank of her vambrace, and my boot caught her brutally in the chest on the horizontal back sweep, just underneath her left arm that supported her, and sent her tumbling twice.

  I glanced away, grimacing for just a moment at the injuries I’d surely caused the woman—she deserved them, though—and nearly got my nose frozen off by an ice spell from Hespian. I leapt back, and he followed with a jab of his dagger and a simultaneous curse.

  Instead of trying to get out of the way, this time I darted for his knife arm with my left hand, ignoring the dagger, and seized his wrist just below the knife. I twisted it open, jerking his arm outward as I did so, and Hespian dropped the dagger on the floor with a gasp of pain.

  “Monster,” he spat. “Are you asking to die?” Even as he said it and I held his arm, he tried to elicit another chain reaction of cold in the air, but I grabbed his right arm with my own right hand and ducked underneath his side, pulling his arm swiftly with me until it made a horrifying crack! He howled in pain, but I held it still as he fought.

  On the floor, Lorta groaned, rolling over to hold her broken ribs with a hand. “You wretched child,” she moaned. “How are you so . . .”

  “Just stop!” I shouted at them. “I beat you. Leave Mydia alone and stop trying to kill me.”

  Hespian chuckled through his pain. “Heh. Lassie . . . maybe you don’t understand the way orders work, but . . . you don’t just disobey the Lord of Nytaea.”

  “Then what must I do?” I demanded. “Kill you?”

  “Of course. Innocent brat.”

  Growling, I grabbed Hespian’s other hand, pushed him to the floor with a foot on his back, and held him there by both arms. Cutting off part of his sleeve, I made a makeshift tie and bound his left arm to his legs. I made my way over to Lorta and subdued her, tying her arms and legs in a similar fashion. She spat curses at me the whole time amidst spasms of pain.

  When I was done, I looked over at Mydia, who had come out from behind her pillar and was looking on with a sort of awe. “Lyn, you really . . . ? Wow, you’re amazing.”

  “I’m stronger than these two gave me credit for, I guess,” I said. “Now stay back, all right? Don’t get in the way.”

  “Okay. But . . . what are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to see what’s going on with Rhidea and your father. How much do you know about his Authority? Where are they now?”

  “It’s . . . it must be his Hall of Mirrors,” she whispered. “It’s his greatest spell, using a blend of Perception and Reality Authority. He can take you there and mess with your mind in all sorts of ways. I can’t imagine what it’s like right now.”

  “But . . .” I looked back at where Rhidea and Kalceron had been mere minutes ago. The air was distorted in strange patterns that seemed to move and shift. “Are they still here?”

  Mydia shook her head. “Sort of. Just . . . please, don’t get in the way. I’m sure Lady Rhidea knows what she’s doing, but . . .” she sank to her knees. “Father is so terrifying.”

  So is Rhidea, I thought wryly. Mydia hadn’t been there to see the High Mage wrap up her stepmother in stone. I turned and began walking toward the air distortions at the center of the hall. “I’m going to see. Don’t try to stop me.”

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  I strode cautiously forward until the air shimmered just ahead. Rhidea was right here . . . no, here . . .

  Suddenly, a bright light flashed in front of me, and I shied back as Lord Kalceron tumbled backward out of nowhere as though pushed by a great force. His black robes, torn and bloodied from a hundred different cuts, fluttered through the air, and he landed roughly with a grunt and a curse. A rip, a seam as it were, hung in the open air where he’d come from.

  Rhidea followed a second after, leaping through the seam and floating to the ground. She also looked like she had been through a battle in Kalceron’s conjured world, but she was nowhere nearly as heavily wounded as he. Her white skirts, partly singed and torn, fell slowly to the floor as she stalked toward her opponent, who scrambled backward. Above her, silvery streams trickled through the air, coalescing into a dozen blades of silver, each poised as though ready to strike on command.

  “You think you’ve won this!” he shouted hysterically. “That you’re better than me. You always did.” Finding his feet, he rushed for his throne, as though it would help him.

  Rhidea let him go, not bothering to stop him. I stood looking on uncertainly. Mydia approached slowly from the spot where she’d been. “Father? Please, just give up. Don’t keep fighting like—”

  Lord Kalceron spun on his heel, a look of pure hatred on his face. “Don’t patronize me, wench! First your useless slut of a mother, and now you . . .” He winced briefly, putting a hand to his side, and then summoned a sword of black flames out of the air.

  “Kalceron, I’m warning you,” Rhidea said in a cold monotone, “Don’t touch her.”

  Lord Kalceron paid no attention to her words, as though not hearing. He glared down at his daughter, who had stopped six feet from him, with the deepest disgust. “I should kill you now,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “And you could join her and your brother in whatever paradise they’re enjoying.”

  Mydia sank to her knees, seeming to melt as she stared up at her father. “Father . . . father, I never—I never knew you were such a heartless monster.” She bowed her head and began to sob, but made no move to withdraw herself from her father’s wrath.

  I tensed. Rhidea took a step forward and pulled back her arm, holding her gleaming silver sword. Lord Kalceron drew back his sword, and I saw a flash of what would happen in the next second.

  “No!” I shouted, rushing to save Mydia. I could never reach her in time. I saw the black flames lick from the sword as Kalceron swung it, and heard the whimper of my friend the princess, about to be slain by her father.

  As I ran to her, pumping my legs as fast as they could go, a silver shape streaked across the hall like a whip, cracking as it grabbed Kalceron’s right arm. He gave a cry of pain and dropped the sword, which vanished into smoke, as the whip was yanked, throwing him to the floor. The silver whip retracted swiftly as the governor tumbled down the stone steps, and I turned my head, shocked to see Rhidea pulling her whip back into the shape of a sword. Her many silver blades still hung in the air.

  I skidded to a stop in front of the groaning form of my enemy, Lord Kalceron, and held my bronze knife up, ready to stab it into his chest. “You would’ve killed her just like that? Your own daughter!” I fumed.

  Mydia turned her head to look at me with wide eyes, tears running down her cheeks. “Wait . . .” she mumbled. “Lyn, that’s . . . he’s just . . .”

  “Stop,” Rhidea called, stepping up to where I stood over Lord Kalceron. “Stay your hand, Lyn. This is our duel.” To Kalceron, who was beginning to rise to his feet on shaky legs, she asked, “What do you have to say for yourself, Edrius? What can you offer to save your pitiful life?” Her lips turned downward and trembled as she said it.

  Kalceron braced himself with a hand and glared up into her eyes, gritting his teeth against the pain of his injuries. “You take that tone w-with me, after all these years? In my own palace? Heh, like you’re any better than me.”

  “Kalceron, what were you trying to take Lyn for? Why did your men hold her friends captive in a tower for nearly a month, tortured all the while?”

  Rhidea waited, but he gave no response. “And why did you try to take your own daughter’s life, after all of this?”

  He only glared.

  “WHY?” she roared.

  That one word echoed in the large room, and for a few moments there was silence, but for the sound of Mydia’s sobbing.

  “Very well,” Rhidea said, voice heavy with resignation and bitterness.

  “Rhidea,” I asked, “Can I finish him off now?”

  “No. He initiated a duel, and I would not have your hands soiled with the blood of one so vile. Among us high magi, there is one way we deal with those who turn their backs on everything they’ve vowed . . . and we do it ourselves.” She grabbed a handful of the king’s black hair and yanked his head upwards. “You really have nothing to say?”

  “Wait!” Mydia gasped, finally finding the strength to get up. She made to rush for Rhidea to stop her, but I intercepted her and caught her.

  “No, Mydia. It has to be done.”

  “But . . . Father . . .” She looked over my shoulder to see Rhidea raising her silver blade over Kalceron’s neck.

  “Don’t look, Mydia,” I whispered, pulling her into a hug that kept her eyes from seeing. She fought me, squirming and pulling to no effect.

  “Father . . . Father!”

  I heard the sound of flesh shearing, and the thump of Lord Kalceron’s head hitting the floor, followed by his body. Mydia screamed in my ears as I squeezed my eyes closed.

  And then she fell limp, breathing slowly but heavily. I slackened my grip on her shoulders and glanced behind me to see the limp form of Lord Kalceron, blood creating a pool around his severed neck, and Rhidea standing over him with a bloodied silver sword. She stepped back and said, “It’s done. He’s gone. But stand back.”

  I pulled Mydia up the stairs, and she followed dumbly. I sat her down at the top, in front of the throne, and turned her shoulders to the side, toward me. Crouching, I looked into her eyes, brushing her black bangs out of her eyes. “Mydia, it had to be done. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded, and I pulled her into another hug, looking back to see Rhidea pointing her sword down at Lord Kalceron’s body. What was she . . . ?

  A white flame licked up from his fallen corpse, and then spread into a blaze, engulfing his body, the blood on the floor, and the blood on her magical sword, billowing upward in a beautiful display of golden light. I let Mydia watch as the pyre blazed upward ten, fifteen feet in the air. Anywhere else inside, it might have been a fire hazard —if indeed it behaved like normal fire at all—but in this hall . . . it was just the right setting for the ceremony, a last rite in the middle of a large, cold throne room. The last memory of a tyrant king.

  “Goodbye . . . father,” Mydia choked. “Oh, I wish I could say I’ll miss him.” She squeezed her eyes shut in emotional pain. “I really do.”

  Rhidea put away her strange weapons of silver and dusted off her hands on her dress. The blades, which had hovered above her the entire time, fell and seemed to drip through the air to coalesce on the silver of the pillars and floor of the hall, as though they had come from there. Ascending the stairs, she came to Mydia’s side and laid a hand on her head. “Mydia, I’m sorry. I know he wasn’t much of a father, but it’s still a horrible thing . . . one that had to happen. You will have your time to grieve, I assure you. Unfortunately, right now . . . well, right now, I need to go see to that witch, Lieda. Lyn, get Mydia somewhere safe and then find someone to do something with these two mongrels.” She gestured to Hespian and Lorta, who were still sitting hunched over, bound and gagged beside a pillar.

  I nodded, and the High Mage made her way out the door to deal with Lady Lieda, brushing past a stunned group of onlookers. Had they been there the whole time? Perhaps it was good that there were witnesses.

  Helping Mydia to her feet, I said, “All right, Mydia. Let’s go.”

  Two hours later, I stood on the balcony that overlooked the Palace Common, along with Kaen, Mydia and a few others. We were at the back, while Rhidea stood near the railing, in full view of hundreds upon hundreds of Palace staff, servants, cooks, soldiers, officers, magi and rebels.

  “Citizens of Nytaea!” Rhidea said in a clear, authoritative voice, louder than I’d ever heard her speak before. “Today, you have witnessed an uprising unlike any seen in over a century here in Nytaea. Lord Kalceron was to have the leaders of the rebellion executed for treason here in this very courtyard, but we enacted a plan to save them, throwing the military forces into chaos and rescuing captives held in the infamous prison tower of the Palace—a gambit that paved the way for a full coup d'état. Lord Kalceron, your tyrant king, is dead, and his rule is done.”

  Murmurs began below, cries of, “But you’re not even a Nytaean!” or, “Who are you, anyway?” and, “How can we know for certain?”

  Rhidea continued, “I am Cae Rhidea, a High Mage, scholar of magical Authority, born here in Nytaea. They call me the Wandering Mage.”

  Additional murmurs arose, but more subdued and respectful.

  “I came to this city after many years for the purpose of scholarly research, and was horrified to see the state of the once proud city-state of Nytaea. The people of Nytaea have suffered increasingly over the years due to direct and indirect cruelty from mismanagement at the hand of Edrius Kalceron. He was once my friend and colleague, but . . . he went past the point of no return, and he needed to be put down. I became connected with one among the rebellion who has supported them the longest. This young woman was almost murdered today by her own father when we confronted him. Meet your new queen regent, Mydia of House Kalceron.”

  Mydia stepped out nervously beside me. I gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder and as warm a smile as I could muster. Truth be told, I was just glad that it was not me who had to speak.

  Mydia strode forward like a timid angel, arrayed in regal robes of pure white. She stepped up beside Rhidea, and the mage put an arm around her shoulder. She whispered a few words in the girl’s ear, and Mydia nodded, facing the crowd. With a deep breath, she said, “I . . . I am Mydia Kalceron. I will be your new queen for now. It has pained me all these years to see my father mistreat you so. But know that I personally helped to reach out to the needy and hurting, and I will be working with the leaders of the former underground rebellion along with those in authority, both military and political, to ensure that our government is rebuilt stronger than ever. Nytaea is seceding from the Kystrean Empire as of this day.”

  Cheering arose from below, bringing a smile to my lips. Looking at Kaen, I said, “I think she’s doing it.” He raised an eyebrow and shrugged in response, but I could tell he was impressed underneath his pretense of indifference.

  “What happens to us now?” The question rose up from one of the men in the common below, and others murmured assent.

  “What about us soldiers?”

  “What about our houses?”

  “What will the Archlord say?”

  Rhidea cupped a hand over her mouth and shouted, “Silence! The queen is not yet finished.” Quietly to Mydia, she added, “Go ahead, dear. You’ve got this.”

  Clearing her throat, the queen regent raised her voice once more and declared, “The military has been ordered to stand down and not oppose the rebels. As I said, we are working with many leaders to decide what will be the next direction for the country of Nytaea. For now, I am your Queen Regent. We will deal with the Archlord’s reaction to our secession and succession as the time arises.”

  “My friends!” Rhidea added in her booming voice before the crowd could object. “This is not a time for fear or cowardice. There is nothing for us in the Empire. That has been clearly shown by lack of interest in our welfare on the part of both Archlord Domon and Lord Kalceron in the past decades. Nytaea was once its own nation, and can be once again. We have the strongest military of any of the states save for Ti’Vaeth, and are the originators and leaders in mage forces in the entire world. We are not weak. You can continue to fight the petty battles of the Empire, or stand strong and pledge your hearts to a new nation, a better one!”

  At this, the crowd roared. Mydia turned, and I saw the anxious smile on her dimpled face. I gave her a thumbs-up. “Good job, Mydia.”

  Mydia bowed and thanked the audience, and then backed away from the railing. “Oh, that was nerve-racking,” she breathed, holding a gloved hand to her breast. “I managed to remember most of my speech, at any rate . . . I just found it so hard to get my words out at first.”

  Rhidea approached us, standing beside the new queen. “Thank you, Mydia,” she said. “You put on a bold face and delivered your message well. I’m sure the public will forgive your lack of oratory skills, especially considering what you just went through. Now we’ll just have to figure out what will actually come of your government.”

  “Now do I get a nap?” Mydia asked. “I’m so dreadfully tired. I just . . . It’s been a lot.” In reality, I knew the new queen was in a state of shock, and would remain so for a little while. The full emotion of the situation had not hit her yet. The tears and grief would follow.

  What she needed now was rest.

  “Yes, Mydia,” Rhidea said. “I’m sure you can have your nap. Podda, why don’t you go ready her chambers?” She gave me a wink.

  ??

  That night, I dreamed.

  The girl showed me a different scene this time:

  I was in a stormy place atop a high tower, and lightning flashed all around. Rain pelted the stones below. Mother was holding me, rocking me back and forth as she crouched on the ground. She sang me a sweet lullaby, making my eyes heavy. I tried to speak, to say something, but I couldn’t form coherent language yet, and all that came out was a pitiful cry.

  Mother stopped singing. “Now, now, dear. It will be all right. As soon as the storm passes, we’ll—agh!”

  A bright bolt of lightning flashed behind her, prompting her to shield me closely. The immediate thunder was deafening to my little ears. Mother began the lullaby once more before taking off, boots splashing on the rainwater, the little bundle that was me carried close to her chest. She dashed down a stairwell, and I could no longer see anything, only feel the jostling and jolting of her stride and the occasional small slip on the slick stone stairs. But she was strong, quick and agile, and I would’ve trusted her no matter what.

  Mother had me. I would be all right.

  ??

  The End of Part One