The Magecraft Chronicles: The Mage Wars

[Myrdraxxis]

(Guess I post this here too...)


Chapter 1

Winter in Nostia was, even in the bitter cold of the high, snow covered steppes, a harsh and brutal season. The country’s land was covered in a blanket of snow. While Nostia itself was not famous for very many things, its cold winters were legendary, sometimes even compared to the icy region of the Frostlands. The Stormpeak Valley, too having embraced the cold season, was buried in snow. The town of Farrenvar, nestled at the far side of the vast valley, was like a warm candle in the darkness, aglow with lights and warmth. Farrenvar was, at least to the citizens of Nostia, considered a large town. Nowhere near the size of a more urban Megolin city, but large nonetheless. The entire town was shadowed by the castle of Kelenyr, that towered above the town.

Kelenyr itself was nothing particularly special. Castles like it dotted the entire country, the world even. But tactically, the castle was situated in such a way that had kept invaders out for as long as it had stood. Built, directly into the face of the mountain that looked down upon Farrenvar, the fortress was a vast and strong presence in the valley. The tall towers and spires of Kelenyr dominated the crags, buffered by the long battlements that stretched along the cliff face. Such fortresses were home to nobles; people for which the talent of magic came easily and commonly. It easily gave off an air of superiority and power that many a traveler had speculated about, wondering if there was some sort of enchantment about the castle.

In the night sky, Kelenyr was a tall, looming shadow amongst the rock face. The air was still and quiet as the snow fluttered down. It was a night that saw few people outside of their homes. In Kelenyr, however, one such person existed. The air suddenly cracked as a loud buzzing filled the sky around the fortress. The night sky above Kelenyr lit up as a spike of lighting split the air, echoing with a loud crack. The trail of electricity dissipated almost as quickly as it appeared, trailing down to one of the lower terraces of Kelenyr.

Matrys Sorian stood stooped over, panting heavily. His breath came in short bursts, reflected in the cold air around him. He was absolutely freezing! The snow was almost up to his ankles, and yet here he was out in this weather. The ground in front of him steamed with discharged energy, the after effect of his spell.

“Do it again, Trys.” The man standing across from Trys ordered, leveling him with a stern look. Trys resisted the urge to groan. He had been practicing the same lightning spell for almost an hour. Why Master Toulin wanted to train out in this bitter cold was something that Trys suspected he would never know. Trys inhaled sharply and closed his eyes in concentration.

‘Focus the magic. Shape it in your mind.’ He mentally instructed himself, feeling the familiar buzzing in his body as magic hummed softly through him. He raised his right hand and pointed into the sky with two fingers, creating a focal point. “Raitiss, Spaerus Jumonus.” The words came to his mouth almost unbidden. The air hummed as a soft blue nimbus formed around the boy’s fingertips. Trys held it for a moment and then released the spell in an explosive discharge. The lightning crackled and roared as it struck the sky, once again lighting up the night. This time, the light held corporeal form, an almost solid energistic shard. Then it dissipated into the night.

“Better.” Toulin commented simply, shifting his weight to his left foot. Trys only grinned weakly in reply. That was probably the best compliment he would get out of the sullen man. For all of Instructor Toulin’s talent as a mage, his people skills were somewhat lacking. “You managed to keep the lightning in form. Now all you must learn to control that form. The lightning spear spell is named for exactly that. You must control that energy as if it were a spear, using it as such.” The instructor said. He glanced up at the sky, as just noticing the frigid temperature. “That will be all for today. Let’s go get something to eat.” He said. Trys grinned gratefully and together they walked back into the halls of Kelenyr.

Trys got a few nods of greeting from passing people as he and his instructor padded through the halls towards the inner parts of Kelenyr. The castle was crowded with travelers and nobles, as it was every year around this time. Kelenyr always hosted, in Trys’ opinion, the grandest Invoking Festival in all of Nostia. Trys and Toulin entered the Great Hall, a large room that dominated the center of the castle. The Great Hall was, most of the year, a place for meetings and formal occasions, but on the day of the Invoking Festival, it hosted the main party in Kelenyr. Trys gave a small smile as he stepped into the Hall, taking in the cheerful atmosphere of the room. Decorations had been placed all around the hall. A band was playing an upbeat tune in the corner of the room, while partygoers danced and talked, about the room. The ceiling of the Hall was covered in moving illustrations created using magic, a tradition in the Festival. Trys eyed an illustration of a girls dancing troupe appreciatively, as it danced and weaved its way across the ceiling. The spell weavers were certainly doing their pay’s worth this year.

“Trys my boy!” A loud, booming voice made Trys start suddenly. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and turned him around to the person. Trys couldn’t help but smile when he saw who it was. Andoris Kell was a physically big man, almost intimidatingly so. But whatever intimidation came from his height was belayed by the huge, warm grin on his face, showing plainly through his bushy beard.
“Mi’lord.” Trys said with a slight bow. Andoris waved him off with a snort.

“None of that, Trys. I get enough of that from the nobles. I need to hear it from my own nephew.” He said. Trys grinned.

“Of course Uncle.” He said. Toulin took that moment to offer his own greeting. He formally bowed.

“Lord Kell.” He said evenly. Andoris nodded to him.

“So Toulin, how is he? Any hope for this one?” He asked playfully, nudging Trys. Toulin nodded, sparing Trys a glance.

“His grasp of basic magic is very good. A little trouble with focusing on the finer points of control, but nothing that can’t be fixed.” The instructor reported.

“Very good! We’ll make an excellent mage out of you yet, Trys.” Andoris said. Trys smiled, happy for the praise.

“Thank you, Uncle. But honestly,” A look of annoyance flickered across his face. “Do I really have to practice out in the freezing cold? I can barely feel my feet, even now.” Andoris laughed heartily, drawing some looks from partygoers.

“Toulin is just making sure you can endure it, aren’t you Toulin?” He asked the man, who said nothing. Trys mentally snorted.

‘More like trying to just kill me so he won’t be bothered by me anymore.’ He thought cynically.

“If that is all sir, I will take my leave.” Toulin said. Andoris dismissed him with a nod, and the man turned and left, soon swallowed up among the crowd.

“He’s about as cold as the weather.” Trys observed. Andoris grunted in agreement.

“Aye, but he’s a damn good mage. One of my best. You should feel privileged he accepted to train you, Trys.” The big man said. Trys nodded, conceding the point. His eyes drifted back to the party around them, longing to join in the festivities. Andoris caught the look and clapped him on the back. “Go enjoy yourself. The night is young and the party will go on for a while yet.” He said. Trys thanked his uncle and quickly left to join in the festival.

The night flew by quickly, a deluge of music, food and dancing. Minor mages performed tricks for eager audiences, all the while, the artistic illustrations floated and swam above the party in ethereal grace. Trys, having enough of the action, stood at one of the Hall’s large windows, staring out into the valley below. The Great Hall was fully built into the side of the mountain, with large windows etched into the side, giving anyone who looked a fabulous view of the Stormpeak Valley. Trys enjoyed the view. He needed a break from all the nobles greeting him and well wishing him. The only reason they even nodded his direction was because he was nephew to the Lord of Kelenyr. Trys had lived in Kelenyr his whole childhood, and after his parents had died in an accident, the Lord and Lady of the Keep had taken in their nephew as one of their own. Fortunately and unfortunately it made his standing in Kelenyr go up, which attracted greedy and ambitious nobles like no other. And even worse were the court ladies, who tried to push their daughters onto him -not for lack on the daughters’ parts, he imagined- in an effort to gain even more standing with the ruling family.

Trys gave an irritable sigh. This was happening more and more, now that Trys was nearing his eighteenth year. His cool blue eyes and exotic snow white hair made him rather popular among the girls of Kelenyr. Honestly the boy had little interest in court politics or wedding. But magic, now there was something Trys truly enjoyed. Being a mage was his lifelong dream. Not too farfetched; mages were a large community in the world and magic itself used on a day to day basis. Trys had grown up with magic, but he wanted to know more! Become truly strong like those of legends. He shook the thoughts from his mind, deciding to just enjoy the evening. He looked over the crowd, eyeing some of the more notable people. Not only were there nobles from Farrenvar, but also travelers. On the night of the Invoking Festival, everyone had a party to celebrate, and many came from all over Nostia, sometimes even from all over Mundus Magica. Trys spotted an Altinorian mage performing air magics for a group of wide-eyed children. Another looked to be from Megolin, if his light blond hair was any indication. Trys though he saw one man, hooded and cloaked, but when he checked again, the man had disappeared. Someone walked up beside him. “Well aren’t you a party animal.” Trys turned and faced his friend with a grin.

“I just needed a little break is all. I know I can leave the partying up to you Aeren.” Aeren Kell, first born son to the Kell line was a tall, and remarkably handsome. He had his mother’s features, tanned Xiolinese skin and pitch black hair. A mischievous grin –one that always made the girls swoon- was plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe that you were out training in this weather.” The Kell gave a disbelieving look out the window and then back at Trys. “And on the day of the Festival no less.” Trys shrugged.

“Some of us have better goals than finding our next spellbound noble’s daughter to flirt with.” Aeren laughed.

“Hey now, that’s not true! I aim much higher than flirting.” He said, his grin forming into a smirk. Trys shook his head in exasperation. “And before you say it, I am NOT a voracious rogue.”

“You don’t even know what voracious means.”

“No, but you’ve called me that enough times for me to grasp the meaning.” Both of them shared a laugh at that. Aeren was both Trys’ cousin as well as his best friend. They were the same age, both schooled together and always causing trouble for the servants in their earlier years. Their laughter subsided into a comfortable silence that lasted for a minute until Aeren said, “You know, Kialie has been asking after you all night.” He nodded back toward the party. Trys turned toward the direction his friend nodded and spotted the girl, chatting away happily with a group of friends. Kailie was Aeren’s younger sister. She shared her brother’s shaded skin, but had her father’s soft brown hair, and at fifteen years old, was turning into quite the beautiful young woman. Trys stared for a moment before shaking his head.

“She really needs to get over this. We’re cousins for crying out loud!” The white-haired boy exclaimed. Aeren winked at him.

“It’s not uncommon for royalty to marry cousins. Not like anyone would think horribly of you.”

“Don’t encourage her. She’s practically a sister to me, anyhow.” Trys said. Kailie looked up from her conversation and met his gaze, and smiled. He returned the smile but turned away quickly. Aeren chuckled at his discomfort.

“I don’t think I’ll understand how you can attract such attention and never be interested. Wait..don’t tell me you swing for the other team?” Aeren asked in mock astonishment, accompanied by a horrified look. Trys sputtered out a reply.

“Of course not! I just don’t-“

“Oh look, the ceremony is about to start. Come on Trys. We’d better get going.” Aeren cut him off and then walked off into the party, where people were beginning to crown around the center, a large bonfire the center of their attention. Trys let his retort go with a a hiss. Somehow, Aeren always managed to get the last word. Shaking his head, the young man rejoined the party. He’d let it go, tonight.

The Invoking Ceremony was a celebration that- according to records- was as old as the world itself. It was a night of revelry and fun, to honor magic. Trys, as a child, had listen to the bards tell of the Festival’s origins. How the Festival used to be more than simply a night of partying. Long ago, all of the people in the world of Mundus Magica had been mages of some degree. Man first stepped into the world a hundred years almost two hundred years ago, from their home world of Mundus Veritas. Records of why, or how this happened were lost in history, leaving people of today – mostly Altinorian scholars- to guess and speculate. The story always made Trys feel excited. The wonder in knowing that another, older world existed fed his hunger for excitement.

All the party-goers gathered around the central bonfire, where Lord Andoris Kell stood with his wife, Lady Jaelin. By looking at the woman, you could never guess she was older than thirty, although she had just last summer entered her forty-fifth year. Off to the side, Aeren and Kailie stood, eagerly awaiting the ceremony to begin. Trys joined them, nudging Aeren slightly in an ‘I’ll get you later’ way. His friend only grinned in response. Kailie looked over at him and smiled shyly. “Hi Trys.” She said. “Did you enjoy the party? I was hoping to find you before the ceremony began.” Trys gave her as warm a smile as he could manage.

“I was busy training, and then got caught up. Was there something you wanted to ask me?” He could guess, but didn’t say it. Kailie flushed a little but shook her head. Oh, he was definitely going to have to nip this in the bud sooner or later. Suddenly Andoris Kell raised his arms, quieting all talk.

“Friends, nobles and travelers. I welcome you to Kelenyr and hope that tonight has been a magnificent occasion.” His booming voice echoed slightly in the great hall, riveting the audience. “On this night, we celebrate the day our forefathers invoked the magic to cross over to this world, away from oppression and persecution for our magical abilities. We honor those who established our home here, and our very way of life!” As he said this, Lady Kell turned and held a hand up to the bonfire, muttering a chant under her breath. The flames grew with a loud whoosh and turned a deep sapphire blue. The magical illustrations on the ceiling began to curl and form around the fire like smoke, and soon all meshed together. Images began appearing in the new single illustration. People stepping onto Megolin soil for the first time, from a large eldritch portal. A battlefield, men fighting and spells flying; the war where Nostia declared its separation from Megolin. Dragons, flying the skies of Elborn. The frozen tundra of the Frostlands. It was all the past, and it was all of their world, Mundus Magica. Trys, along with others, observed the scenes with rapt attention and reverence. Trys thought he caught a glimpse of a hooded man-the same from earlier- but like before, when he looked again, the man was gone.

The images played and danced above the fire, and after almost an hour, the fire gave a loud belch of flames they dispersed. The room brightened again and all the people in the room cheered loudly, the Great Hall echoing with applause. Trys glanced over at his cousins with an awed smile, which they both returned. No matter how many years he attended this ceremony, Trys always found it awe inspiring and amazing. Andoris once again raised his hands for silence. “And now, may the festival continue! Enjoy yourselves, and the rest of the night.” There was a round of cheering and then the partygoers did just that.

Trys, Aeren and Kailie found a table near the far wall and sat together, watching the party continue around them. Trys and Aeren would joke and laugh, Kailie sometimes joining in, but mostly keeping to herself and –more often- glancing at Trys. It was then when Trys brought up a remark about the number of travelers that Aeren frowned. “There are certainly quite a few this year. I saw, or rather I thought I saw, a man that hooded his face. I never did see him again afterwards, but for a moment he seemed to just simply be standing among the party.” Trys foze at that.

“I saw him too.” Kailie said, making Aeren’s frown deepen.

“Well, it doesn’t exactly mean anything.” Trys said quickly, trying to hide his sudden unease. “So what if there is a man like that here? Sure it’s rather odd, but if he wants to keep himself hidden it’s not a crime.”

“But it is pretty damn suspicious.” Aeren argued. “I mean, who would try and act so mysterious and secretive at an Invoking Festival. And not to mention that he disappeared almost the split second I laid eyes on him.”

“Same here.” Kailie agreed. “We, me and my friends, caught him staring at Trys.” Now Trys really felt uneasy.

“You mean, you saw him while you weren’t busy staring at Trys?” Aeren teased, much to his sister’s embarrassment.

“Idiot!” She threw a roll at his head, blushing. Aeren only chuckled. Trys smiled, glad that some of the tension effectively broken. But still, he couldn’t hide a niggling sense of foreboding in the back of his mind. That hooded man, which both his cousins had seen, didn’t’ give Trys a good feeling. He decided he would talk to uncle Andoris about it later. For now, he put it out of his mind, enjoying the night with his cousins.

It was almost two hours past midnight when the party began to disperse. Nobles either headed for him in the upper district of Farrenvar, or bedded in the upper dormitories of Kelenyr. Trys was heading up to his room, exhausted from practice and the party, intent on nothing else but a good night’s sleep. As he climbed the stairs to his room, a thought occurred to him. In all the fun, he had forgotten to talk to Andoris about that mysterious traveler from the party. Trys slowed his walk, debating simply mentioning it in the morning. But a feeling inside him was telling him not to wait. Finally, he turned from his destination and started back down to the Great Hall, where he knew his uncle would be until the last guest had left.

He was almost to the Great Hall when he heard the scream. Turning sharply, Trys heard it come from down further in the castle, near the servants quarters. He broke into a run, dashing past startled folks as he ran. Finally he arrived at the intersection of the kitchen and servant quarters, to find a terrified servant girl backed against the wall, face dripping with tears. “What happened?” He asked worriedly. Wordlessly she pointed a shaky finger into the kitchen.

Trys stepped into the kitchen tensely, and what he saw nearly made him hurl then and there. The body looked as if it had been ripped open from the inside, gore splattered outward from the chest cavity and spread about the kitchen. Trys felt blood pumping loudly in his ears at he stared at the face of the victim. It was Master Toulin, eyes transfixed in a dead stare; face a picture of absolute terror. Trys stumbled backwards out of the kitchen, directly into Andoris Kell, accompanied by three guards.

“Trys!” His uncle said surprise. “What happened here?” Trys shakily pointed into the kitchen. Cautiously Andoris looked into the room, and quickly jerked back, swearing loudly. He turned to the first guard. “Get a mage down here at once! I want guards on full alert and searching the castle!” He barked out the order, which the soldier jumped to obey. The tow guards escorted the distraught servant away from the scene. By now, what few guests who remained and had heard the scream were gathering in the halls, curious to know what was happening.

Trys stared mutely at his uncle, who ran a hand through his hair and patted the boy on the shoulder. “Trys, go back to your room. We’ll get this sorted out. Just try and get some sleep.” Trys complied, but even as he made his way back up to his room, the boy doubted he would get any sleep that night.

[Monika]

Colorful, descriptive writing style perfect for fiction. Perhaps a bit too descriptive; I think some dialogue/thought-monologue could be used in places where the omniscient narrator talks about Trys' thoughts. Ends kind of abruptly, but that happens all the time what with TO BE CONTINUED in modern day fiction. From what's there, the story seems interesting enough, and I'll read the next chapters and hope they don't disappoint me.

All in all, 8/10.

[Mizagium]

YEAHYEAHEAHHURRDURRYEAJHYEAHYEAH

[Myrdraxxis]

Chapter 2


News of Master Toulin’s death spread like wildfire throughout Kelenyr, and by mid-day the next day, it was the only thing folks were discussing. Many were questioning how such a thing could happen, during an Invoking Festival of all times.

Trys tried to ignore the talks as he made his way through the castle to find his uncle. He had barely slept a wink last night, and could feel the tug of exhaustion as he walked. But he had to speak with Andoris; now more than ever. ‘Maybe if I had talked to him last night, this would have never happened.’ Trys thought bitterly. ‘If I had warned Uncle about that hooded man sooner, Master Toulin might…’ He could barely think of the fact that his teacher was dead. Toulin had been a hard, stern teacher, but a good teacher nonetheless. He would be sorely missed. And while Trys had no concrete proof, this whole incident was highly suspicious. The hooded man, and then this sudden horrific murder. Trys was not big on believing in fate, but right now it was too much of a coincidence. “I have to at least tell him.” He said, out loud this time.

“Tell who?” A voice made Trys stumble slightly in his walk. A man was walking towards him from the opposite hall. He was tall, with wispy red hair on a balding head. A small, serious frown creased his face. “Lord Bolvior.” Trys said with a respectful bow. Bolvior returned the bow and smiled tightly.

“Up and about a bit late aren’t you, Trys.” He said, though it was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes sir. I-I had some trouble sleeping.” Trys said uncertainly. He didn’t know what to think of Lord Bolvior. He was Lord Andoris’ chief advisor, and had been since Trys was a small child. The man was confusing; originally opposing Andoris adopting Trys, and yet through Trys’ childhood Bolvior had been helpful to him.

“I imagine so.” Bolvior said with a small frown. “I heard that Master Toulin’s death was rather horrific.” Somehow, the remorse in his voice didn’t quite reach his eyes. Trys nodded.
“Er pardon me, but I need to speak with Uncle An-“

“Lord Andoris”

“Lord Andoris.” Trys answered patiently.” It’s about Master Toulin’s murder.” Bolvior suddenly looked interested.

“Oh? You know something?”

“Sort of.” Trys said uncertainly. “I need to tell Lord Andoris about it immediately.” Bolvior hummed thoughtfully.

“Lord Andoris is busy right now; I just came from the Great Hall. He’s stuck in the middle of trying to solve this murder as well as organize the ending of the Festival. I don’t think he will have time to see you right now.”

“But I-“

“However,” Bolvior cut off Trys’ retort. “I would be happy to relate anything you have to tell him.” Trys relaxed.

“Really?”

“Of course Trys. Any shred of evidence that might lead us to solve this murder is highly valued.” Bolvior said with a light nod. “Now, I’d best take my leave. And I believe Lord Andoris mentioned that you wouldn’t be having lessons for a little while. Take this opportunity to enjoy the festivities in town.”

Try gave his thanks to the advisor and the two parted ways. Trys walked to the kitchens to grab some food before heading down into town. Along the way, he came across Aeron and Kailie, both of which were eager to join their cousin on his venture. The three set off from Kelenyr, clad in thick coats to ward off the cold.

“So you told Ol’ Bolvior about last night then?” Aeren asked as the trio walked down the cliffside path into Farrenvar, passing few travelers along the way. Trys nodded, frowning a bit at his cousin’s lack of respect.

“He said he would tell Uncle, I just hope it will help this horrible case in some way.” Trys said.

“It’s not much to go on to begin with.” Kailie commented. “So far there haven’t been any clues as to what happened. Everyone was too busy with the party to notice.”

“There is a rumor..” Aeren started, but hesitated.

“What? You heard something?” Trys asked. Aeren grunted in response, a sort of unsure agreement.

“it’s just a rumor I heard from the servants. The way Master Toulin’s body was found. You saw it right? It was busted open from the inside form the looks of it.”

Trys thought back with a shudder, nodding. It had been a gruesome scene. “Yeah.”

“Well, that’s the thing. They’re saying it was magic that did it.”

“What kind of magic could do something so horrid?” Kailie asked, almost whispering. Aeren glanced around and leaned in closer as they walked.

“Blood magic.” Trys hissed sharply. Kailie paled.

“Don’t even joke like that.” Trys snapped. Aeren’s frown deepened.

“I’m not joking. Think about it. What else could have done something so horrible?” Trys shuddered again. Magic was a part of life in Mundus Magica. Many mages, back in the early times, had begun experimenting with their powers. And while a great many things were learnt from them, not all of them were of benign nature. Blood magic, just saying the word made Trys’ lips burn. It was an abomination. Who in their right mind would shed their own blood (and that of others) for power?

“If..if that’s true, then what do we do?” Kailie whispered. “Could dad and the other mages take care of it?”

“That’s the problem.” Aeren said, stopping. They had reached the bottom of the cliffs, standing on the outskirts of Farrenvar. “We have to find this murderer before we can stop him. And if it is a blood mage…to have such a person on the loose was unthinkable.
The three did their best to put the idea from their minds as they wandered into town. Farrenvar was busy this time of year, lights strung up and performances in the town square were the main attractions, as well as some minor spellwork by the few mages not up in Kelenyr. Officially, the main night of the Invoking Festival was over with, but the parties usually went on for an entire week afterwards. Many of the travelers who had attended the Festival at Kelenyr now moved to join in the revelry with the common folk, intent on enjoying the celebration to its fullest. Trys vaguely wondered if he would see that hooded man here. He found that sincerely hoped so.

Eventually Trys began to actually enjoy himself a bit, walking through the streets, soaking in the music, dancing and smiling faces of those around him. He, Aeren and Kailie got more than a few bows and greetings; everyone recognized the children of Lord and Lady Kell.

“I like it here.” Kailie commented as they sat at a small table. A pavilion had been set up at one end of the town square, and food was being served. “Kelenyr’s party is nice, but it’s always so stiff and formal with those nobles around.”

“Tell me about it.” Trys grunted in between bites of meat, freshly served. “I can’t stand all the ‘well-wishing’ and kowtowing I get.”
“Don’t forget the proposals.” Aeren teased. Kailie’s gaze locked onto Trys for a moment, a slightly worried expression. Trys pretended to not notice, instead flicking a small bit of snow off his jacket at the grinning boy.

“How could I forget?” The white-haired boy said, sighing heavily.

“Honestly, I don’t see why I have to be involved in this political nonsense anyway.”

“Because you’re the cousin to the next lord of Kelenyr?” Kailie suggested smartly. “And you shouldn’t complain. You do you think I feel? I have to listen to father and mother talk about marrying me off to some man I don’t even know. Aeren gets to be Lord Kell, but I have to be the dutiful wife to some man that’s probably twice my age.” complained the girl.

“I’m sure it can’t be as bad as all-“ Trys began to say, but stopped abruptly. He stared over Aeren’s shoulder, his food suddenly forgotten. He couldn’t believe it for a moment, but there it was. Among the flow of people wandering around the square, it was undeniably the form of that hooded man. He stood on the far side of the square, standing motionless as his hooded gaze fell of Trys and the Kells. Trys shuddered unconsciously. Even staring straight at the man, he couldn’t see anything under that hood.

“Trys?” Kailie nudged him. Trys sharply looked back at the table.

“Look!” He pointed frantically. “It’s him!” Both Kells looked in the direction Trys pointed. Aeren’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Ummm where?” asked the Kell heir. Trys looked back into the crowd, and felt his heart fall. The man had disappeared into thin air. Just like at the party.

“Who did you see?” Kailie asked in confusion. Trys stood, knocking his chair back.

“It was that man, the one from the Festival.” He said, searching the crowd frantically. “He was just there…he was watching us.”

“Are…are you sure?” Kailie asked, her voice becoming a little scared. “You’re sure it was him?”

“Yes.” Trys said, not taking his eyes from the crowd, hoping to catch another glimpse of their elusive quarry. But there was nothing. It was as if the air itself had swallowed the man up. And yet, Trys still had the unsettling feeling of being watched. He closed his eyes, thinking back to his training, then. Master Toulin, Fate rest his soul, had once said magic was universal, and that all humans of Mundus Magica contained it, no matter how small. And that by focusing on the flow of magic, one could sense others’ magical presence. Now Trys was trying it, extending his senses. He felt the natural and familiar feeling of magic flow through him. But instead of shaping it, as one might shape it for a spell, Trys let it flow through him, like a great river. He immersed himself in the flow, feeling the small embers of magic around him; the people of Farrenvar. He felt Aeren and Kailie. He could feel strong ebbs in the magic, stronger glows in the river. Traveling mages or performers no doubt. Trys wondered vaguely if his mysterious target was one of those, but decided no. His target was something much greater, of that Trys was sure.

Suddenly, the magical river surged. Magical waves buffeted Trys, making him gasp. The flow of magic turned violent, so much so that Trys could barely keep hold of his concentration. It was everywhere at once, a violent teeming force that made Trys feel tainted and disgusted to feel it. With a heave of strength, Trys released the magic and collapsed into his seat.

“Trys!” Kaile and Aeren were at his side in an instant. “Trys what happened?” asked Aeren.

“I…I tried..” Trys was panting heavily, unable to speak. “We should get back to Kelenyr.” He managed after a few more painful breaths. “I need to let Uncle Andoris know about this.”

“But what did you do?” Aren asked.

“No time for that. We need to go now.” Trys said as he stood, leaving no room for argument. The two Kell siblings exchanged worried looks, but followed him as their cousin walked quickly through Farrenvar. Trys’ mind was troubled. “That force was too great for one person. But it was definitely blood magic. It had to be.”

The trip back to Kelenyr was quick and tense, no one saying a word. When they finally reached the castle, Kailie parted ways with them, claiming weariness.

“Tell what happened later, Trys.” She said before leaving, giving him a worried look. Trys and Aeren found Andoris Kell in the Great Hall, deep in conversation with a huddled group. Trys make see Bolvior among them. Andoris noticed them enter. “Gentlemen, let’s finish this later.” He said. There was a grim note in his voice. The group of advisors dispersed, leaving only Andoris and Bolvior.

“Father.” Aeren said, giving a formal bow.

“Aeren, Trys.” Andoris nodded to the both of them. “Back from Farrenvar already?” Trys noted the weary tone in his uncle’s voice. It made him worry. Were they still getting nowhere with Toulin’s murder? It showed on Andoris’ face. There was worry and exhaustion present. His skin was a shade paler than usual.

“Uncle,” Trys spoke up. “We came back because I need to speak with you.”

“Oh? Did you come across any new evidence of the murder? Bolvior tells me of your suspicions about this ‘hooded man’ that you have seen.” Andoris replied. Bolvior nodded in support. It was Aeren who spoke up.

“We, well that is, Trys saw that hooded man again today in Farrenvar.” He said. If Bolvior could look any more tense, he achieved it right then. Andoris sighed heavily. Trys and Aeren swapped worried looks. Had something happened while they were away?

“This proves too much of a coincidence.” Bolvior murmured.

“It still proves nothing.” Andoris snapped. Trys was surprised. He had never known his uncle to be prone to anger. This must be taking more out of the man than he thought. “Besides, we still don’t even have a lead on this man. Just that he has been spotted a couple of times. Nothing more.”

“Uncle please!” Trys interjected, unable to keep quiet anymore.

“We need to at least find this man. More lives might be at stake.”The looks on Bolvior and Andoris’ faces made him pause.

“It’s a little late for that, Trys.” Bolvior spoke. His face pinched.

“What has happened?’ Aerenasked, though his voice came out as a whisper. Now it was Andoris who spoke.

“We just received word from the guards. A body was found again around noon. He was in a similar state to poor Toulin.” He gave Trys a meaningful look. “The body was found down in Farrenvar.”

[Myrdraxxis]

Chapter 3

“His name was Tobari Johans, a novice mage from Altinor.” Andoris explained. He, Bolvior and the two boys stood over the body of Tobari Johans, looking on in grim solemnity. “Came up to Nostia for the Festival, was staying with some relatives.”

“It looks almost exactly like Master Toulin.” Trys croaked his mouth dry from horror. Seeing such a sight the second time definitely didn’t make it any easier. The body did indeed look similar to that of Toulin’s. The chest area was burst open, seemingly from the inside. A look of pure terror remained frozen on the deceased mage’s face. Trys could hardly bare to look at it. From the expression Aeren was wearing, the Kell heir wasn’t fairing much better.

“It does indeed.” Andoris said tersely.” From what we can piece together, this was done by some sort of spell. Our mages can sense magical residue, but can’t identify it just yet…”

“Blood magic,” Trys said aloud, not really meaning to. That declaration brought sharp looks from Andoris and Bolvior.

“What did you say?” Andoris asked, his voice becoming a whisper. His eyes were hard, staring intensely at Trys. Likewise, Bolvior was staring at him, but when Trys met his eyes, there was something else there. He looked surprised….and almost amused?

“I..well, that is,” Trys stumbled over his words, not quite sure what to say. Aeren sighed.

“We were thinking, Trys Kailie and I, that whatever did this could be blood magic.” He said, fearless as usual.

“Impossible.” Bolvior scoffed. “There hasn’t been and Dark activity in the Stormpeak Valley for generations. Not since the Hunts.”

The Hunts, as history books said, was a time when practitioners of the dark arts were hunted down and summarily killed. Blood Mages, Necromancers, Daemon Summoners, all manner of Dark activity was feared and hated. The fact that there were such things in the world at all made Trys shudder. Toulin had brushed cautiously on the subject of such things; not enough to ever be considered instructing Trys on Dark activity, but enough to teach the boy the dangers and horrors of such magics.

“Think about it.” Aeren argued back at Bolvior. “What else could have done this? Most of the Kelenyr mages are aeromancers . And what else have you heard of that could do this?” Andoris and Bolvior exchanged glances, the Kell lord’s expression paler than before.

“We can’t rule out the possibility.” Andoris murmured. “If that is the case, then we need to take immediate action.”

“Could we hunt the blood mage down?” Aeren asked.

“If it IS blood magic.” Bolvior reminded him haughtily, drawing an annoyed glare from Aeren.

“Toulin was our only mage who could take on a blood mage by himself.” Andoris said. “And our numbers are too few to manage the defense of the Valley and conduct a hunt at the same time.”
Said the distraught man. “Fate damn it. If only Toulin were still here.”

The same thought seemed to strike Aeren and Trys at the same time. ‘Is that it?’Trys wondered, his sense of dread ever growing.

“Uncle, I think that..”

“This murderer, he’s going after potentially powerful mages.”
Aeren finished the horror of the realization apparent in his voice. Andoris looked startled at the thought, but slowly Trys could see realization sink in.

“I’ll be damned.” Andoris half whispered. “If that’s true…then this isn’t some outsider.” The declaration cast a shadow over an already grim situation. Bolvior was quiet, obviously thinking hard.

“How many mages do we currently have in the Valley?” The advisor asked finally, breaking the oppressive silence.

“Close to thirty total. Most of those are novices. Maybe ten, altogether, could be considered a true threat.” Andoris answered, not liking the answer even as he spoke it. “There were a couple of traveling mages here for the Festival, like Tobias here.” He indicated the body, still laid out before them.

“We should guard them closely.” Bolvior advised. “They are obviously being targeted alongside Kelenyr mages.”

“It would also allow us to keep an eye on them. Who knows, it could also draw the murder out.” Aeren added, which Trys nodded in agreement to. “Do we know how many of these travelers there are?” The way his cousin spoke made Trys mentally grin. He was starting to sound more like the heir to Kelenyr.

“Then Bolvior,” Andoris spoke to his chief advisor, “Summon them here. I want to speak with these men personally.”


~~~

Three hours later, Trys found himself back in the Great Hall. It was odd, he thought as he stood in the large room, that such a place filled with grim news and dire events had just yesterday been the sight of merriment and celebration. It was evening now, the sun beginning to sink behind the peaks of the valley, casting the entire Hall in shadows. Trys turned his attention to the three mages standing in the center of the Hall; the focus of this meeting.

“Why have we been called here?” Asked a tall, blond haired man. A Megolinian mage, Trys vaguely remembered seeing at the Festival. He was garbed in a rather resplendent black tunic, with a royal blue magus cloak. The man wore a look of offended outrage. Not that Trys could blame the man, his summons had been rather abrupt and terse. “I cannot be summoned like some commoner . I am Mage-Knight Templaris of the Megolin Grand Army.” The blond man stated, a hint of pride tinged in his wounded tone. Trys felt the urge to roll his eyes. It seemed to be to him that all people form Megolin had similar qualities, such as being overly boisterous and proud. From what he had read in books, Mage Knight Templaris were only one step above supplicants in the Megolin army rank. The Megolin traveler obviously counted on no one from Nostia knowing that, giving him a chance to over exaggerate himself (to town barmaids no doubt). Now Trys did roll his eyes. How typical.

“I must agree with my associate.” Spoke a softer, more collected voice, belonging to the man next to the Megolinian. Trys could tell right off the bat that the man was an Altinor mage. Whereas Megolins were tall and often blond haired, Altinorins were typically darker haired with tendency to appear more mysterious and knowledgeable in appearance. Unlike his comrade, who appeared to err on the simpler side of fashion, the Altinorian wore an expensive looking suit, with a red ornate cloak to it. “Why have we been brought here, Lord Kell?” The Altinor mage questioned, his gaze hooded by long black hair.

“Honored mages,” Andoris greeted, forcing a polite smile. It appeared more as a grimace though. “I called you all here because I feel that in the current situation, your safety may be in question.” The lord said carefully.

“Situation?” A feminine voice purred, drawing attention to the third traveler. She was tall, and very beautiful. Trys couldn’t help but stare. It was Lady Valine, a traveling mage who often stopped in the Stormpeak Valley.She looked almost to be nobility in her dress, though Trys had never heard of any mention of her family. She was well known and admired around Kelenyr ,by many a young lad, unsurprisingly. Trys had never really seen the woman until now, but could not deny the obvious attractiveness she showed. The woman was dark skinned, at first making Trys think she was Xiolinese, but that was easily offset by her pale-blond hair. Her eyes were the palest blue he had ever seen, and they locked gazes for a moment as the woman swept her eyes across the room. Trys blushed and looked away. “What sort of situation has arisen, Lord Kell?” She asked smoothly.

“I’m sure you have all by now heard of the unfortunate death of my mage Toulin-“

“Yes,” The Megolinian interrupted, drawing an annoyed look from Bolvior. “Apparently, your top mage was killed during the Festival last night.” The blond man continued heedlessly. “Is that why we are here? To be interrogated?” There was a challenge in the man’s voice.

“No, Magus Gerard, that is not why we have summoned you here.” Andoris said wearily, not bothering to try and disguise his irritation. “We called you here for your own safety. Because you need to be made aware of a threat that concerns you.” The Megolinian, Gerard, snorted but backed down, eyes inquisitive.
“Then, by all means, please explain.” The Altinorian spoke up.
“Master Toulin, my best mage, was found murdered last night after the Festival, as you all surely know. Today, at noon, my guards discovered another body down in Farrenvar.” Andoris explained, looking each mage in the eye as he spoke. “The body was of one Tobari Johans, a traveler like yourselves.”

The dark haired Altinorian gave a small cry in the back of his throat. “Tobari is dead?” The reaction gave Andoris pause, as if he hadn’t considered that the two might have been acquainted.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” The Kell said.

“Tobari is, was my cousin.” The Altinorian choked, clenching his jaw to fight back a sob of grief.

“Magus Yuther, you have my deepest condolences.” Lord Andoris pressed on. “But what we need to focus on right now is a very real threat. My advisors and I have come to believe that these murders are focused at high class mages.”

“Like Tobari.” Valine said.

“Yes.” Andoris agreed. “And, like all of you.”

“You believe our lives to be in danger?” Yuther asked, his voice struggling to maintain a steady tone. The man’s expression was guarded, but there was obvious pain there. Andoris nodded.

“Yes. Which is why I would be grateful if you would please remain in Kelenyr, until this matter has been resolved.”

“And what makes you so sure that we are even safe here?” Gerard growled. The man was as concerned as his fellow mages, though he hid it behind a wall of cynicism. “If I have heard correctly, the first murder took place right here in Kelenyr. Why should we feel safe within these walls?” He spread his arms wide for effect. Yuther appeared to agree. Valine’s expression remained unreadable. Trys let a small sigh pass. This was turning out to be rather bothersome.

“Be that as it may,” Bolvior spoke up, “Your lives are much more protected here in Kelenyr than down in the town. For your own good we would like you to remain here.” The way he said seemed to imply they really did not have a choice. Something Valine seemed to pick up on.

“Very well, Lord Kell.” She said, addressing the large man. “I shall stay here for the time being.”

“I will as well.” Yuther said after a moment of consideration. “But, I would like to see my cousin’s body. And go back into town once more, to let his family know.”

“It would be safer if I sent a messenger.” Andoris cautioned, but Yuther denied him.

“No. I…I want to be the one to let them know.” Andoris’ gaze warmed a fraction.

“Very well. I-“

“My lord,” Bolvior cut him off. “I really do not believe that is wise. Magus Yuther and the others must be protected at all times, and we simply do not have the manpower to escort him through town.” The red-haired man said forcefully. Andoris stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“He does have a point, Magus Yuther.” A sudden idea came to Trys then. His thoughts had been returning to the day in town and his violent reaction to the magical flow. The more he thought about it, the more he needed to get back to town and be sure.

“I’d be happy to go with him, Uncle.” He said almost before he realized it. All attention turned to him, making the young man a slight bit self conscious. “I can go back into town with him. I’ve been meaning to go back anyway.” He added, seeing the questioning look in his uncle’s and cousins eyes.

“And who is this boy?” Gerard asked sharply, looking down his nose at Trys.

“My nephew, Matrys Sorian.” Andoris answered curtly. He held Trys’ gaze for a long moment.

“Well, Magus Yuther?” He turned his attention back to the mage. “Would that be acceptable? I will allow you to go back into Farrenvar tomorrow with my nephew.” Yuther seemed hesitant to answer, glancing at Trys, sizing him up.

“Lord Kell, you have faith in your nephew?” He asked.

“Trys was Master Toulin’s top student, and a talented mage.” Andoris said, making Trys swell with pride. “I have every faith in him.”

“Then yes, Lord Kell. I will accept those terms.” Yuther agreed. Trys could feel his uncle’s eeys on him, unspoken words in his eyes. I have faith in you Trys, they said. I have faith, but for Fate’s sake, be careful.
Trys wouldn’t let him down.

“Then, gentlemen, Mi’lady “ Andoris nodded to Valine, who acknowledged him with an incline of her head. “Let us retire for the night.”

“I don’t ever recall agreeing to this.” Gerard stated tersely, drawing a weary look from Bolvior. Trys mentally groaned. Couldn’t this man see past his own ego for one moment?

“Oh for Fate sake Gerard.” Valine said irritably, apparently sharing Trys’ feelings. “Get over your pride and just accept. This is a serious issue and we should be as helpful as possible.”

Gerard sniffed and locked gazes with the woman for a moment. Her stare was intense and finally the Megolinian looked away. “Very well.” The man acceded, albeit barely.

“Well, with that addressed, let’s all retire for the night.” Bolvior said. “My Lord Andoris, I think we should continue our…discussion from last night.” He glanced at the others plainly. Andoris nodded, and Trys noted tension creep back into the man.

“Yes, of course. Good night everyone.” With that, the two men left the Hall. Soon, everyone did likewise.

~~~


Trys inhaled sharply, sucking in a lung full of icy air. Night had fallen almost an hour ago. Instead of going to bed, Trys found himself out on one of the lower terraces of Kelenyr, honing his skills; much like he had with Master Toulin. He should practice, he reasoned, even if he had no current master. Trys figured his uncle would see to the matter of finding him another master later on. He wouldn’t force the issue; Andoris was under enough stress as it was. For now, Trys would train himself and master what his deceased instructor had taught him.

Trys vaguely considered attempting to tap into the flow of magic again, from here in Kelenyr, where he might not be affected as much by any sudden backlash. But no; if something were to happen to him again, who would be able to help him?
Instead, Trys focused magic into his hand, and let the familiar words of the ‘Lighting Spear’ spell reach his lips. The night lit up as an arc of lightning split the sky from his fingertips. Trys moved his arm, and the lightning moved with it, an almost solid form. The lightning churned and flashed as it sped and disappeared into the sky.

Trys stopped to catch his breath, and then was suddenly aware of someone watching him. He turned around to see a figure leaned against the tall doors that led into the interior of the castle. It was Lady Valine. She appraised him coolly, and moved, seeing she was noticed.

“You have a good grasp on lightning spells.” She said, her voice carrying in the cold wind. She walked through the snow, leaving faint footprints as she strode up to Trys. Only now standing beside her did Trys realize how tall she was.

“They’re mostly the spells Master Toulin taught me.” He replied uncertainly. “And I only know a couple of actual battle spells.”

“He was a good teacher.” Valine replied. “I had the pleasure of speaking with him once or twice in the past, during my visits here.” She spoke softly, “He was, very enlightening.” She said, searching for an accurate word. Trys made a face.

“You mean he had the personality of a rock.” Valine laughed, a sound that Trys found not unpleasant.

“Yes, I suppose that is a close description.” She said, her eyes twinkling with humor. A quiet moment passed before Trys spoke.

“Er, Lady Valine, what exactly brings you out here on a night like this?” He asked, indicating the cold, snow falling freshly. Valine waved him off.

“I could ask you the same, Matrys Sorian.”

“Trys is fine. Mi’lady.”

“Trys, then. To answer your question, I came to give you a bit of instruction, if you will.” Now Trys looked at the woman curiously.

“You…did?”

“Of course. From what Lord Andoris says, you are a very bright novice. And, seeing as poor Toulin is dead, I think it prudent you should still be able to continue your training.” She explained with a light shrug.

“I am eager to learn all I can.” He replied, a small grin on his face. Valine regarded him with an amused smile.

“Indeed. Well, then pay close attention, for this is what I can offer you.” She turned, facing towards the Valley and outstretched one arm. She began to chant in Latinii. Trys didn’t recognize the words, and had no clue what she was casting.

Magical patterns began to form and weave in the air around her hand. Trys gaped. Magic that physically manifested like that was amazingly potent. He had never seen it done before. Valine’s chanting reached crescendo, and the symbols brightened, making Trys shield his eyes. A wave of cold, far colder than the winter air, washed over him. He uncovered his eyes and stared in surprise.

Hovering in front of Valine’s hand was a solid shard of ice, nearly a foot long. “It’s called Spaerus Aquatis. And before you say it, no you will never hear of this spell from anyone else. Al least, not for at least a hundred years.”

“Why is that?” Trys asked in amazement. Master Toulin had never even hinted to such a spell in his studies.

“Because, I invented it.” Valine said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“You invented it?”

“Of course. All spells were invented by someone at some point. All it takes is the right precision, and a fast amount of creativity.” She said, and then paused. “My family is from a small village on the coast of the Frostlands. I left when I was young, but my heritage remains. I find that water spells came naturally to me; so I simply found a way to invent ice spells.”

“Because of your heritage?” Trys asked faintly.

“Partly. You will find that familial spells are fairly common with high standing nobility. My point is, Trys, that magic is something ever growing. You can grow to be a powerful mage by creating your own magics.” She said. Trys tried to think of the implications, but Valine saw the look and held up a finger.

“But never think you can become more than human, Trys. As much good that comes from magic, there is also evil. Not all spells and magics created are well meaning.”

“Like blood magic.” Trys couldn’t help it. He blurted it out before thinking. Valine’s face darkened and she sent him a serious look.

“Precisely, and I’ll advise you to stay away from such things. “ Trys was tempted to tell her his suspicions about the murders, and his theory, but held his tongue.

“So, you’re saying I should invent my own spells?”

“I’m saying you should try. Learning battle magic and other magic as all well and good, and I have no doubt you will. But having a personal arsenal is always something a true mage should have.” She said, and then turned, to begin walking back inside; apparently finished with her lesson.

“Wait!” Trys called, making her stop midstep. “How can I even begin? What sort of spells should I even invent?” She turned and gave an alluring smile.

“That, Trys, is entirely up to you.”

[Myrdraxxis]

Chapter 4

Trys and Yuther set out from Kelenyr the next morning. Unlike his last trip down to Farrenvar, this one was grim and silent, both staring ahead as they walked, silent. It suited Trys just fine, he was deep in thought the entire way down the mountainside. He had thought a lot of what Lady Valine had said to him the previous night, and ultimately decided it was a subject for a later time. For now, he wanted to focus on finding this hooded man that had so plagued him since the Festival. As he pondered it, as well as his accident while ‘surfing the flow’ as Aeren had dubbed it – the more he came to think there was more to this whole business; and the idea forming in his head made him uneasy.

Finally the two men reached the bottom of the cliffs, traveling along the same road Trys and his cousins had taken the day before. It struck Trys rather odd to think that all of this was happening and it had only been two days. So much more time seemed to have passed. As they got closer to town, Trys saw the shape of a man, standing at the edge of the town. Trys squinted and as they got closer the figure became recognizable. Trys sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes, making Yuther look at him quizzically.

“Why is Lord Kell’s son waiting for us here?” The mage asked. Trys shook his head.

“I suspect we’ll find out.” He said, though he could figure it out rightly enough. Of course Aeren wouldn’t want to miss anything remotely interesting going on, no matter what it was. When Trys and Yuther finally got to the town edge, Aeren was waiting for them, all smiles.

“Mornin’ Trys.” He said cheerfully, that familiar look of incorrigible false innocence written on his face. “I thought I’d take a stroll to town this morning, y’know, see the town all dressed up for the Festival.”

“We did that yesterday, you oaf.”

“You wound me, cousin! What’s wrong with simply heading in to town once and a while?” Trys could see Yuther was getting agitated, and quickly ended it.

“If you want to join us, then come on. But we should get going.” He said. Aeren flashed him another grin and joined the two. They walked through streets that looked every bit as festive and grand as the previous day. The warmth and happiness of the town was lost on Trys now, as he strode purposefully, every so often glancing at alleyways and crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hooded man. Trys was sure –how could he not be- that the man was still in town.

“I wonder if we’ll see that blood mage.” Aeren leaned over and muttered to him, too quiet for Yuther to hear. Trys glanced at his cousin, but held his tongue. He didn’t want to mention the thought that had slowly been turning into a theory over the last day. At least, not until he was sure.

~~~

The house of Tobari’s family was a five minute walk through town, near the trading quarter. Yuther approached the small home, nestled in amongst a series of similar buildings, plain and nondescript. Yuther stopped a step short of the door and looked back at Trys and Aeren. “I thank you for accompanying me this far, young ones. You may stay out here if you wish.” The thick tone in the mage’s voice made Trys think that was a good idea. So he and Aeren waited out in the street while the Altinorian mage knocked on the door. He was greeted by an elderly, kind-looking couple who looked rather surprised to see him. Yuther looked pained, even as he walked into the small home and the door closed behind him.

“Poor guy.” Aeren said, looking purposefully away from the house, down the street. “Can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a family member. Can you Trys-ah,” He caught himself, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Trys said faintly. “It doesn’t much bother me anymore.” Truth be told, he hadn’t though much of his parents over the years; time seemed to lessen the pain off loss until it was a faint memory. Having family like the Kells also helped Trys deal with it in his younger years.

Trys suddenly heard a sound from inside the house; a series of heart wrenching sobs. So Yuther had told them then. Trys sighed. They would be leaving soon then. Which meant Trys needed to act now. “Aeren.” He said. The other boy looked over. “Remember that thing I tried yesterday at the square? The ‘flow searching’?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to try it again.” Trys said, expecting an outburst from his cousin. He wasn’t disappointed.

“What? Are you serious?” Aeren almost yelled, drawing looks from people passing by. Trys nodded.

“I need to. The last time I did it…I think I found something. Something important.”

“And you were almost hurt.” Aeren retorted. Again, Trys sighed.

“I know Aeren. But I need to do it. This is important.” He tried to stress the fact. He couldn’t show Aeren what he had ‘seen’ –the Kell wasn’t all that adept at magic- but he needed to do this. If only to prove if his theory was right. “Aeren, please. I just need to try this. It’s for the good of all of us.” He said with as much conviction as he could muster. Aeren stared at him, glanced at the closed door of house and then back at Trys.

“The first sign of trouble and I’m haulin’ your ass out of it.” Said Aeren, gritting his teeth. Trys gave him a small smile of appreciation and promptly went to work.

He shut his eyes and breathed deeply, once again tapping to the magic within himself. As it coursed through him he let go, entering the magical flow once more.

As before, he felt himself swept along the currents, traveling through the town and its people, searching. Soon he felt himself back at the square from the previous day, and then further on, towards the southern sector of town.

There it hit him, like a hurricane, the flow of magic became violent, thrashing and churning, making Trys falter. But he pressed on. Dove further in, determined to reach the source of the this turbulence. He was battered, shaken –faintly he could hear a voice calling his name. Aeren?- but still he pressed on. The storm seemed to reach a frenzy, and Trys’ vision went white. In that moment, he truly felt separated from his body. In that moment he saw with perfect clarity. And he knew he had been right.

His realization didn’t last long, for suddenly he felt magical presence grow close to his own. It was stifling, and made the young man gasp. Quickly he tried to release the grip on magic, but it was sluggish to reply, leaving him floundering helplessly. The presence withdrew suddenly, sending Trys reeling and suddenly crashing back to his senses.

“Trys!” Aeren shook him furiously. “Snap out of it!” Trys blinked hazily and waved away his cousin. Aeren was standing over him, and Yuther was standing not too far off –having heard the commotion and running outside to check.

“I-I’m fine.” He said.

“Like hell you’re fine.” Aeren snapped. “I told you not to do it! Stubborn bastard, you almost got yourself killed.” Trys blinked in confusion.

“You almost let yourself go too far into the ‘flow’.” Yuther said, seeing his look. “Honestly, for a novice to try and delve that far in, what were you thinking?”

“I was…I was looking for the blood mage.” Trys replied. Yuther’s eyes couldn’t get any wider.

“Blood mage?”

“Well did you find anything?” Aeren ignored the Altinorian and focused on his cousin. “Did you find him?” Trys opened his mouth to reply, but closed it suddenly, staring past his cousin, into the alley beyond. The Hooded Man stood there, watching them. Trys barely felt himself move, but suddenly he was up, starting for the alley. The Man turned and fled down into the dark street, and Trys gave chase, ignoring the shouts of Yuther and his cousin.

Trys raced through the narrow streets, straining to see his target as the man moved ahead, ducking around corners and alleys. The man was fast; unnaturally so. Trys could here blood pumping furiously in his ears as he gave chase, panting raggedly. He was vaguely aware that the chase was leading him further away from Aeren and Yuther, towards the southern end of town. Trys put on an extra burst of speed, closing a bit of the gap between the two. Suddenly the man turned sharply, ducking into a narrow alley. Trys stumbled, caught himself and turned down the alley.

It was a dead end. The Hooded Man stood at the end, and slowly turned towards Trys. The white-haired youth blocked the only exit, glaring at his adversary. The Man regarded him almost curiously. “Well, it seems you have me.” The voice wasn’t what Trys had expected. He had expected something more…well dramatic. At least more dramatic than the cultured, almost young sounding voice. “The question is,” The Man continued, “What will you do now, Matrys Sorian?”

Trys probably should have been more disturbed about the man’s knowledge of his name than he was, but all he could ask was one question: “Why are you following me?”

“Following you?” The Man asked, amusement plain in his voice. “I’m very sure it was you was following me.”

“I mean all this time.” Trys snapped. “At the Festival, yesterday and then just now. Why?” The Man regarded him quietly for a moment.

“I suppose you deserve a fair answer. But there is simply so much to explain-“

“Trys!” Trys whirled around to see Aeren running towards him, followed by Yuther. Aeren’s eyes immediately went to the Hooded Man, and widened. “It’s him!” He hissed. “You actually caught the blood mage.” He sounded amazed. Yuther examined the man with a frown.

“Is that true?” He half whispered. “Is this the one? The one who killed Tobari?”

“I am not.” The Hooded Man said firmly. Aeren snorted.
“Of course you would say so! But we’ve seen you; popping up where the murders take place. Don’t try and-“

“Aeren.” Trys cut him off. “This man…this man isn’t the murderer.” Aeren whirled on his cousin with a half confused, half outraged look.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“It would seem you figured it out, Trys.” The Hooded Man said. Trys nodded.

“I did.”

“Well for Fate’s sake would you please elaborate?” Yuther snapped, more tense than Trys had ever seen him. “I AM curious to know why you think this man is not the murderer.”

“The first time I traveled the flow – searching for you,” He nodded at the Man, “I was almost thrashed alive by some force that I stumbled across. That’s how I thought for sure that it was blood magic. But something did not add up to me. I confirmed it with my most recent use of the flow.” He said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“And?” Aeren asked.

“The power, the turbulence I felt could not possibly been made by one person alone.” Trys explained.

“Very good, Trys.” The Man said. He reached up slowly to his hood and pulled it back, for the first time showing his face. He was younger than Trys had imagined, around his middle thirties if he had to guess. Finely trimmed brown hair and intelligent green eyes complimented his looks, overall giving the man a handsome appearance. “It is indeed blood magic.” He said. “And you are right. No normal huma could produce that sort of disturbance on their own.”

Yuther paled at the implication. “You mean…there is more than one blood mage?”

“Damn!” Aeren swore. He too was pale.

“A cult would be an accurate description.” Their mysterious friend explained. “More than likely a small group of novices and one lead man, a full Blood Mage.”

“How do you know all this?” Yuther demanded.

“I have been hunting them for weeks.” The Man replied. “I tracked them to the Stormpeak Valley two days before the Festival. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to get moving. We are close.”
“Close?” Trys asked, looking around warily.

“To the cult’s hideout. I was planning on making my move tomorrow, but with more mages here, we may be able to take them today.” The Man said, walking past Trys towards the street. Trys turned and grabbed him by the shoulder, feeling the man stiffen at the touch.

“Hold on a moment.” Trys said, eyes narrowing. “You led us here.” He said, his suspicion confirmed when the Man sighed.

“Yes I did. As I’m sure you realized, I have been watching you, among other things. The forces of the Valley are spread thin and I need help taking this cult down.”

“You still haven’t told us who you are.” Aeren interjected sourly. The Man cocked his head to the side, as if just considering the fact.

“So I haven’t. You may call me Willard. I am a hunter of sorts, looking for practitioners of Dark magic use.” Willard explained. “For now, that is all I can say. But we should hurry. These blood mages still hold murder in their hearts, and we should go now if we want to save innocent lives.” He said forcefully. Aeren still frowned, but nodded in agreement. Yuther sighed wearily and nodded.

“Lead on, then.” Said Trys.

Willard led the trio through a maze of back streets and alleys, deeper into the southern part of the town. This area was the seedier section of town, home to vagabonds, drifters, and all manner of unsavory characters. The homes and buildings were a state sorrier than most Trys had seen, some even on the verge of crumbling. They moved through the streets with cautious haste, avoiding most of the populated sectors.

Finally Willard stopped and raised a hand for halt. “We’re very close.” He murmured. Trys could feel it as well. The air felt oppressive, heavier. There was a foul taste on the air.

“Fate,” Yuther muttered. “How did the mages miss this?” He too could feel the taint, and pulled a face of abject disgust.

“I imagine the guards to don’t venture this far into the southern sector.” Aeren said, on edge. Trys wasn’t sure if his cousin could also sense the taint in the air –having never been a talented magic user- but it seemed he felt enough to put him uneasy.

“Quiet.” Willard hissed. He took a step forward and peeked around the corner. There was a small, nondescript building –rather worn with age- at the end of the narrow road. Trys could almost taste the raw energy from the building. Willard motioned them forward, and the four of them ran over to the building, ducking under the single window. Aeren looked to Willard for confirmation, and upon approval, kicked the door in. It banged loudly as it opened, and Trys winced.

The four of them slipped into the front room, a small space with no furnishing. “No one here.” Yuther muttered to the others, glancing into the small kitchen in the next room.

“Did we arrive at the wrong time?” Trys questioned, trying to calm his beating heart. This whole affair was making his adrenaline rush. Willard shook his head.

“They were here not twenty minutes ago.” He said surely. “You and I both detected them in the flow.”

“I think I have something!” Aeren whispered loudly from the kitchen. The others glanced in, and Aeren motioned to a small trapdoor in the corner of the room. “Another level.”

“Open it. Carefully.” Willard said, stepping quietly over to the Kell heir. Aeren did so. Hot air rushed up to greet him as he pulled the door open. The air became oppressively warm, and Trys could faintly hear voices coming from the trapdoor.

“I’ll go first.” Yuther offered. He sgrabbed hold of a small ladder leading downward and slipped down into the next floor. Trys followed, then Aeren. Willard entered last. They were standing in a hallway, with a single door at the end. Trys inhaled anxiously as they approached it. The voices he had heard grew louder, into a chant. Willard paused at the door and glanced back at his companions.

“Be ready.” He warned and then opened the door. The room was circular, and lined with lush velvet carpets that looked far too luxurious for the house it was in. The floor and ceiling was adorned with a strange, occult magical symbol, wards and runes scrawled into every detail. It was red, and Trys highly doubted that it was made with paint. What drew his attention first, however, were the seven hooded figures standing in the center of the room, arms raised and chanting.

Yes, they were definitely in the right place.

[Myrdraxxis]

Chapter 5


As one, the blood mages turned to face them, not stopping in their chanting as they did so. A single blood mage raised an arm and pointed it at Aeren. Willard moved just in time, pushing the young heir aside as a bolt of red lightning scorched past the man’s ear. “Stop them from casting spells!” Willard yelled over the loud chanting. Yuther reacted first, raising both hands and yelling out words in Latinii.

“Spiritus Flameus Sagitta Magica!” Arrows of flame shot from his palm, shooting towards the blood mages with astounding speed. Six of the seven cast wards in time to stop the attack, but the seventh was hit full in the face by the attack. He fell to the floor, face scorched beyond recognition. Adrenaline was humming in Trys ears as he began casting his own spell.

“Raitiss, Spaerus Jumonus.” The familiar words leapt to his lips, and lightning crackled as it left his fingertips. The lightning arced and struck the wards of the Blood Mages. The wards held. Trys gritted his teeth and pushed more power into the spell. The room brightened and there was a great tearing sound. As one, the Blood Mages stumbled back, clearly shocked that someone had shattered their wards. Willard wasted no time, lunging in. Trys heard no incantations, but the magic came just the same. Fire leapt into Willard’s hands, and he moved lightning quick, grabbing the heads of two more cultists. The men screamed as the magefire burned them. Willard released them and snorted contemptuously as the bodies dropped to the floor.

There were four Blood Mages left, now. Two were hurriedly chanting together, forming some sort of duel spell. Trys didn’t wait for them to finish, quickly firing off another spell. “Sagitta Magica.” He spat, and a pair of magical arrows claimed the men’s lives, striking them through the heart.

Yuther slew the next one, using a strange arcane spell that Trys had never seen. The air itself grew hot and combusted around the Blood Mage; the man offered a single short shriek before dying . The final Blood Mage withdrew something from his cloak. It was a small, wickedly shaped dagger. He drew up behind Yuther. Trys yelled a warning but it was too late. Yuther whirled around, right as the Blood Mage struck, the blade slicing into the Altinorian’s shoulder. Yuther gasped in pain and dropped to one knee. The Blood Mage gave a dark chuckle and wrenched the blade out painfully. He spun around, only to come face to face with Aeren. The heir punched him in the face. Hard.

Taken by surprise, the blood mage stumbled and tripped over Yuther, crashing to the ground. Aeren wasted no time, and dove for the dagger that the man dropped. He grabbed it just as the final Blood Mage began to stand. With a cry Aeren turned the blade and stabbed the man in the neck. Trys winced and looked away. Not that he could escape the carnage. The room stank of charred flesh, and bodies seemed to be wherever Trys looked.

Willard appeared at Yuther’s side instantly, helping the man to stand, which he did shakily. “I’m f-fine.” Yuther gasped, clutching his wounded shoulder. Blood was running down his shirt at an alarming rate. Willard glanced at the wound and shook his head.

“That blade he stabbed you with,” he indicated the one still gripped in Aeren’s hand, “It’s cursed somehow. Blood magic imbued.”

“Cursed?” And dropped the blade and recoiled.
“The bleeding won’t stop.” Willard muttered as he tore a strip of cloth from his cloak. Even after he tied the wound, blood still soaked through. “The wound is bad, we need to get him back to Kelenyr.”

“Aye.” Aeren nodded. “We need to let my father and Bolvior know what happened here.” Yuther was turning pale now, his breath coming in quicker, shorter gasps. Willard shook his head.
“I agree, he needs help. But don’t be so quick to think this is over. “ Trys glanced around the chamber, for some reason still feeling uneasy. It was over right? So why was he still so anxious?

“These Blood Mages were a little…weak.” Trys said, glancing at the corpses. “We didn’t really have to use much magic to take them out.”

“That’s because they’re just novices.” Willard said, and suddenly Trys felt cold. “They need a master to train them in the ways of Blood Magic. And chances are this master is in Kelenyr.” Said the cloaked hunter. Trys suddenly felt faint.

“W-what? How could there be one in Kelenyr?” Aeren asked.

“The first murder, Master Toulin, was in Kelenyr.” Trys said faintly, suddenly and horribly able to see the whole picture. “These men were just apprentices of the murderer.”

“It is why I was at the Festival that night.” Willard agreed, again checking on Yuther, who labored to stand; the knife’s magic taking its toll quickly and grimly. “I figured as much, but I couldn’t figure out who it was. I had hoped that the master was here today, overseeing his students.”

“Maybe he was.” Aeren said hopefully, nudging one of the nearby bodies with his foot. Willard shook his head.
“No. I guarantee if a master Blood Mage had been here, the battle would have gone a lot differently.” He said. Yuther coughed loudly and spoke.

“This…master. He would be someone that could blend in with normal life in Kelenyr. Someone close enough to avoid suspicion.”

It came to Trys suddenly, and he felt sick. Who had been able to organize it so that his targets were all in one place? Someone with Andoris Kell’s ear. Someone that man trusted.

“I think I know who it is.” His voice came out in a whisper.

~~~

It was almost completely silent in Andoris Kell’s office. The man was pouring over a large tome spread across his desk. The man’s face was distressed, yet resigned. Bolvior stood beside him. “Do you see now, Andoris?” The advisor asked almost soothingly. Andoris exhaled sharply and leaned back from the book, looking troubled.

“Bolvior…this is….I don’t even know what to say.” He muttered.

“The answer should be obvious, sire.” Bolvior said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “There are reports from the border that the Lord of Genethir from the next valley is massing troops at our borders. We are simply spread too thin to counter this without help.” He indicated the book.

“But…but this is Dark Art.” Andoris said. “I can never use this, even to defend my people.” He sounded less convinced that he said. “It’s wrong.”

“Says who?” Bolvior sneered. “Those who are weak. They deny such powers, and where does it get them? Most mages end up the dog of some fat pompous lord who could care less about those he leads. To truly lead your people to prosperity, you must be willing to embrace what others shun.”

“Is there no other way?” Andoris asked, eyes drifting back to the dark tome. Behind the Kell’s back, Bolvior grinned.

“I’m afraid not.”

~~~

“Bolvior?” Aeren balked. He and Trys supported Yuther as they hurried up the slopes to Kelenyr. Willard strode quickly in front of them. “Are you serious?”

“It makes sense.” Yuther muttered between pants. His face had lost all color and there were dark circles around his eyes. “He is close to Lord Kell, which would make it easy for him to work unnoticed or scrutinized by anyone.”

“But Bolvior has been at Kelenyr for years!” Aeren argued. “Surely he wouldn’t have waited so long to act.”

“Don’t be so sure. Practitioners of the Dark Arts have been hunted for generations. They learn to adapt and hide who they are.” Willard said. “It’s also possible this man wasn’t a Blood Mage when he arrived at Kelenyr, though that seems unlikely.”

“Either way, we need to hurry!” Trys pressed, increasing his pace. Even at their quickened pace, it took them another half an hour to reach Kelenyr’s gates. They approached cautiously. Trys looked around uneasily. “No guards.” He murmured.

“Be ready.” Willard warned. “The Master more than likely felt the death of his students.”

“Is that even possible?” Aeren asked, nervously glancing around as they walked through the main entrance. The hall was deserted.

“There are many unknowns when it comes to subjects like Blood Magic.” Willard replied. “But Blood Mages can form bonds with their students, allowing them to connect from long distances. I guarantee he will be waiting for us.”

The halls of Kelenyr seemed to be utterly deserted. Not a single guard or servant in sight, not to mention the usually cluster of nobles and families that usually filled the halls. Trys didn’t like it one bit. There was an almost musty scent on the air, that seemed to grow stronger the further in they went. It wasn’t like the oppressive feeling that blood magic had given off. Even Willard seemed slightly perplexed by it. “Dark magic always has a certain feel to it. But this….I don’t recognize it.” That did little to alleviate Trys’ fears.

It was almost five minutes later that they found the first body. And then the next. And the next…”What happened here?” Yuther rasped, staring in horror. They were in one of the lower terraces, leading towards the Great Hall. The room was littered with corpses. Trys recognized servants and few nobles among them, but for the most part they were guards and mages.

“Who did all this?” Trys whispered. Willard bent down and checked the first body; a young nobleman who Trys had known through association.

“Well, it wasn’t done by blood magic.” The mage confirmed. “There’s barely any hint of magical wounds. In fact…it’s almost as if he was killed by a blade.” Indeed, most of the bodies looked as though they had been slain by physical means rather than magic. There was nothing they could do but press inward, and they made their way through the hall to the next room. This room looked more like a massacre than a fight. In the previous room there had been hasty barricades set up, and it looked as if some form of resistance had been made. From what Trys could tell, the people here had been caught unawares.

“We’re nearing the Great Hall.” Aeren murmured. Trys was about to reply, but was cut off by a sickening ‘squelch’. The sound of tearing flesh came from the far side of the room. There was a figure there, hunched over the unmoving bodies.

“Hey!” Trys called, hping to get the man’s attention. “Are you alright? What happened here?” The man stood and Trys’ words died on his lips. It was a guard; or what was left of a guard. The man had a gaping, gore crusted hole in his stomach, and the skin of his lower jaw had been torn clean off. But the eyes, they were the most horrid sight Trys had ever seen. They burned with blue light, glowing eerily. There was no humanity there, only cold, ravenous hunger. Willard swore.

“Trys, Aeren, get back!” he warned. The once-guard let out an inhuman screech and dropped his half eaten meal –another corpse, Trys realized queasily- and ran straight for the four men. Willard swore and began chanting under his breath. There was an explosion of light, and the once-human shrieked in apparent pain. Willard took the chance to begin another spell, this time immolating the creature. The once-human twitched as it burned, then lay still.

“W-what was that?” Trys asked, staring at the burning figure.

“An undead.” It was Yuther who answered, his eyes barely open.

“A ghoul to be precise.” Willard said. “Or zombie, which ever you prefer.” He shrugged. “But that,” He nodded to the burning creature. “Is not the work of a Blood Mage. This is the work of a Necromancer.” He spat the word with disgust.
“So…Bolvior didn’t do this?” Trys wondered aloud.

“Not directly, though I bet he had some hand in it.”

“We….should keep…moving.” Yuther wheezed. Aeren glanced at him in concern.

“Can you make it?”

“I have to. We need to…find anyone who is left, and help them.”Yuther coughed wetly, making Trys wince. Seeing no alternative, the four set off again, through the halls of Kelenyr. They found no other rooms of bodies, save the occasional corpse here or there. Finally, they arrived at the Great Hall.

“Be ready for anything.” Willard warned. He spared a glance at Yuther. “We might have to leave you out here, friend.” He said. Yuther nodded.

“I understand. I’ll just get in the way.” He said, followed by a rasping cough. “I’ll stay here and make sure no more of those ghouls show up.” He turned to Trys. “Good luck lad.”

Trys threw open the doors and the trio stepped inside. He bit back a gasp. The room, which had once been a place of merriment and festivity was now something horrible. Bodies littered the ground, the floor stained red with blood. Ghouls were wandering aimlessly around the room, moaning hauntingly. The floor seemed to pulsate with glowing purple runes and magic circles, which all seemed to form some complex pattern. Aeren muttered a soft curse in anguish. Trys glanced at his cousin, seeing him stare at the far side of the long room. When Trys followed his cousin’s gaze, his heart stopped. The bodies of Kailie and Jaelin Kell were splayed out in the middle of a pulsating magic circle, eyes wide with horror. Trys let out a muffled sob. What, or rather, who he saw standing above all this carnage and horror, made him doubt his sanity. There was no way. No possible way he was responsible for all of this. “Uncle Andoris?” He whispered. The man was seated on his raised chair –used for various official purposes- staring across the room at them. His skin was unnaturally white, his eyes held the same unholy glow that the ghouls did.

“Father?” Aeren asked, unbelieving. Andotis Kell raised his head, staring at them, yet not seeing them.

“I’m afraid your father isn’t there anymore.” Trys turned sharply, and saw Bolvior standing near the far entrance, across from them. Gone was the serious, high-brow advisor, replaced with what Trys could only think was a monster. The man’s skin was crawling with purple tattooed runes. There was malice in his eyes, as well as cold amusement. He regarded Trys curiously. “I take it you figured it out then. You always were a smart boy.”

“Bolvior! What the hell is this? What did you do?” Aeren cried angrily. Bolvior chuckled darkly.

“I only gave your father the way to true power, young Kell.” He waved a hand over to the motionless Andoris. “He embraced his newfound powers of Necromancy. A shame that it consumed him.” Bolvior shrugged. “A pity, but there are those who are just too weak to handle it.” He smirked. Aeren gave a strangled cry and tried to rush the man, but Willard grabbed him by the shoulder.

“No.” He said sharply. “Don’t be baited. We have to find a way out of here?” Even as he said that, the ghouls began to notice them, drawing closer with hungry growls. Bolvior glanced at the walking corpses almost fondly.

“Amazing, aren’t they? Necromancy has never been my forte, but I do so admire the results.” Trys felt sickened, and looked away. Many of the now zombies were people he had known in Kelenyr. “Did you know, that Andoris killed them all?” Bolvior pressed, taking steps toward them. Willard was inching towards the door behind them, dragging Aeren along. Trys tried to move, but couldn’t seem to feel his legs. “He raised that mage, Tobari, first. Showed others what he had learned. Well naturally they reacted badly.” Bolvior shrugged again. “Still, once he used Tobari to kill more, and raise his army, it was a simple matter to purge this place.”

“Why?” Trys croaked out. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Hah! Like I would really reveal that.” Bolvior scoffed. “No, your part in this ends here, Matrys Sorian.” He raised one hand and began chanting. Trys jerked back. Redd lightning flickered around the Blood Mage’s fingers, and jumped out at Trys in an angry hiss. At the last moment, the lightning hit a hastily thrown ward, dissipating.Trys blinked in surprise, as did Bolvior. There was a sudden howl of pain. Bolvior whipped around to find the ghouls were dying one by one, struck down by various spells.

“What?” Bolvior roared. Two figures jumped out from their previously hidden position. Trys recognized the duo in an instant.

“Lady Valine?” The woman was turned towards Bolvior, a defiant glare on her face. The Megolin mage Gerard stood beside her, striking down ghouls left and right. Bolvior roared in rage and began conjuring another foul spell.

“Go!” Gerard yelled. “Take them and get out. I’ll hold him at bay.” Valine nodded and pulled Trys towards the door, where Willard and Aeren were waiting. The four of them ran through. As Trys slammed the door shut, he saw Gerard go under, swarmed on all sides by ghouls, Bolvior cackling madly.

“We need to get out of here now!” Aeren said. Trys nodded, but then his eyes drifted to Willard. The man was kneeled down be the wall, bent over something. It was Yuther.

“He’s dead.” Willard murmured quietly. “The blade did its job.” There was no time to grieve. Trys didn’t know if he should have felt more sorry for the dead Altinorian, but he was too overloaded to feel much besides fear.

“Was the way in clear?” Valine asked, as the four began their escape back through the halls. Trys nodded.

“Aye. It looked like the ghouls had finished their work there.” He said. Valine swore softly.
“I should have seen this coming.” She said.

“No one could have predicted it.” Willard said. They passed into the room where they had first encountered a ghoul. Trys was slightly disturbed to see that there were fewer bodies lying around than there had been previously. The halls were eerily quiet. Trys kept glancing over his shoulder as they ran. But no was following them. Soon the main gates were in sight. Trys let a small grin of relief slip, but it quickly vanished as they got closer. Bolvior was standing in the doorway, grinning madly.

“Fate!” Aeren swore. Valine stepped defiantly forward. “I’ll distract the bastard.” She said. “Trys, please get away.” She locked gazes with him for a moment, and whatever protest he had died away. She gave him a sad smile before stepping past him to meet Bolvior. There were no words exchanged, the two mages just met each other head on. Bolvior roared and fired a lance of dark lightning. The attack bounced off of Valine’s wards –hastily thrown up- and scattered, shattering masonry as it struck the walls. Valine chanted her own spell, which Trys remembered well. A spear of ice seemed to materialize out of nowhere –though the frigid conditions outside more than likely contributed- and fired it at the Blood Mage. It struck his wards and while did not harm the man, was enough to send him flying. Away from the door.

“Now’s our chance!” Willard hissed. He, Aeren and Trys sprinted for the door.

“Don’t think you can escape!” Bolvior yelled, intending to attack the trio. Whatever plans he had were cut off by Valine, who began hammering his wards with spells.

“Worry more about yourself, you scum.” The woman spat. As Trys reached the door, he spared one final glance at Valine, who was locked in battle with Bolvior, exchanging spells and blows at a furious rate. Trys turned and fled out into the snow. Away from the battle. Away from Kelenyr.

[Mizagium]

FUCKING ZOMBIES!!1

lol /serious

I think I told you before, the opening chapters put me in mind of the opening of the Chronicles of the Necromancer. Just kind of the same setting, a festival and stuff happens, but it stops there.

the only thing I have to say is that you jumped right into the plot. The world is only barely established (Altinor and Xiolin are mentioned in passing, but that's it), and suddenly they're fighting Blood Mages, which are apparently evil. Trys seems to trust Willard with no real reason to, and so do the others. Not a huge thing, but I guess they can tell he's not a blood mage...but they decide to just go Blood Mage hunting with a complete stranger, with only his word to go on. Maybe the magic thing has more to do with that than I thought, but...yeah.

That's just me though.

Aside from that, you've done excellently. As far as I can tell, the characters are NOT flat and have personalities, and the world is described wonderfully, if not fully established. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, as the surrounding world isn't important at the moment.

Hope it helped.

[Mizagium]

P.S. NOW YOU HAVE TO HELP ME WITH SEEDLING!!!!

[Myrdraxxis]

lol of course, of course

[Mizagium]

I do hope my notes helped.

[Myrdraxxis]

it did indeed. And yes those are things I need to address, though I planned on revealing the full scope of Mundus Magica as the story goes on.

[Mizagium]

Thats what I thought, but I thought I'd bring it up.