Death Mages Ascent: Revised Edition (Death Mage Series Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter 4

             
Jaxom woke to find himself in a very large and comfortable bed beneath an ornately decorated ceiling. Light coming in through a large window indicated it was just past mid-morning. His entire body ached, and his head throbbed like a drum. His bloody clothes had been removed and replaced with soft, white cotton pants. On his chest, a long cut he did not remember receiving had been sutured. Touching his leg, he felt the raised skin of a scar that was weeks old but still tender to the touch.

              Throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he stood slowly. Food and water had been left on a nearby table, and the sight made his stomach growl. Hobbling over to the table, he sat and began to devour the meal of roasted chicken and bread. There was a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. Within minutes, he had cleaned the plate and a satisfying feeling of fullness enveloped him. As he rose from the chair to look for his clothes, a young man in light blue robes entered. The man was shorter than Jaxom with dark brown eyes that matched his shoulder-length hair. His mouth was upturned in a grin, as if he was privately amused by something.

              “Ah! You are awake. I am glad to see you standing. The goddesses granted me the power to heal your wound, but I was unsure how soon you would be able to walk.”

              The goddess Sarinsha was widely worshiped throughout the city, but Jaxom had lost the desire to pray to any god when he discovered that he could channel magical energy. Many mages felt the same way. Why pray to a being of great power when you already possess great power yourself? However, none of the mages had the ability to heal. That gift seemed to be reserved for the servants of the gods. 

              “My name is Da’san,” the priest said, offering his hand. Jaxom shook it with as much strength as he could muster in his weakened state.

              “Thank you, Da’san. I guess I owe you my life.”

              “You owe your thanks to Sarinsha. She is the one who heard my prayers and gifted me with the power to heal you,” Da’san replied.

              Jaxom had never given much thought to the gods, and he also wasn’t sure how he felt about being in debt to one. “I would be more than happy to send a gift to Sarinsha’s temple. To show my appreciation to your goddess.”

              “Any donation is appreciated, but what our goddess truly desires is prayer,” Da’san said. “If you wish, I can help lead you in devotion.”

              “Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I will just make a contribution.”

              The young priest smiled. “Of course, if that is what you feel you owe for your life…” Clearing his throat, Jaxom continued hunting for his clothes. “Your leg may be healed, but with so many wounded last night, I could not expend the goddess’s gift on non-life-threatening injuries.If you would...” Da’san said, gesturing for Jaxom to sit.

Jaxom complied. The priest peered closely at his chest and placed a palm over the closed wound. Da’san then moved behind him to do the same to a wound on his back. “There is no infection,” Da’san proclaimed. “If it has not set in yet, I doubt it will.” Da’san opened the trunk at the foot of the bed. He pulled out clothes and a set of boots and offered them to Jaxom. “The king wishes to see you in the council room.”

Da’san turned away while Jaxom dressed. Mindful of his sutures, he pulled the white shirt over his head. Once dressed, he realized his sword was missing, and a small thread of panic crept into him. As if reading his mind, Da’san once again reached into the trunk and retrieved the coveted blade. Holding the blade horizontally, the priest drew the sword a few inches from the scabbard and examined the shining metal. “It is a marvelous piece of work. I can feel the power within it, but I cannot discern the nature of the enchantment.” Taking the blade, Jaxom buckled the belt around his waist. The added weight on his injured leg would not be comfortable, but he had no intention of leaving the sword behind for the priest to examine further. Jaxom thanked the priest again, and the young man gave a slight bow in recognition.

Once in the hall, Jaxom realized he had been placed in a room close to Corin’s own, perhaps due to the severity of his injuries. The large hall bore no trace of the bloodshed and death of only hours before. The castle staff had obviously been hard at work. As Jaxom passed a pair of Corin’s personal guards, one whose arm was wrapped in bandages, the men brought their right hands to the center of their chests in salute. The gesture of respect gave Jaxom pause.  Unsure how to respond, Jaxom took a page out of Corin’s book, giving them a firm nod in recognition, which seemed to satisfy them.

The council room was thankfully not far. The two guards outside the doors saluted him as well. Inside, Corin and Celia were standing on opposite sides of the large map table. They appeared to be in a staring contest. The large square table painted with a map of Ale’adaria held blocks showing friendly and enemy positions. From what he could discern, much of their army was still gathering while none of the invading forces had yet crossed their borders. Around the room, men of the Guard and the army, including General Blackburn, all seemed to be looking anywhere but at the king and his cousin.

Three mages were also present. The oldest among them was Serin Valsch, a fire mage and leader of the hundred or so mages loyal to Corin. The mages themselves resided not in the castle but in their own, smaller castle within the city. Jaxom had never been inside as most of the mages chose to ignore his very existence.  Even now, one of the younger mages gave Jaxom a look of disgust. Breaking the stony, awkward silence, Jaxom spoke: “I can come back later if this is a bad time, Your Majesty.” 

Breaking her glare, Celia lifted her chin slightly as if to indicate she had won by taking the higher road. “Jaxom, I am so glad that you are awake. You had us worried for most of the night.” “Yes, I am feeling much better now. I have you to thank for that, Your Majesty,” Jaxom addressed Corin. The king finally shifted his gaze away from Celia, and his glare softened into his usual stern demeanor. “If you had not called for the priest, I doubt I would be here right now.”

“What a shame that would have been,” muttered the younger mage. Serin glared at the younger man.

“I could not very well let my savior die after such a valiant effort,” Corin said, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“And my Savior as well,” Celia said. Walking over to him, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. Two kisses in as many days, the guards saluting him, Corin calling him his savior. Had the world gone mad?

Clearing his throat, Jaxom tried to shake off the uncomfortable attention. “You wished to see me about something, Majesty?”

“Magus Serin here,” Corin said, indicating the man, “wished a more complete analysis of the shadow men’s abilities. Since you were the only mage present at the time, an oversight we have just corrected, I thought you would be better able to explain their castings.”

“Of course, Your Majesty, but I do not believe the shades were actually casting.”

“Shades?” Corin asked.

“Yes, that is what I thought to call them.”

“I guess that is a bit better than shadow men,” he said.

“Why do you think they were not casting?” Serin asked, regarding Jaxom with serious intensity in his light brown eyes. The man was considerably older than Jaxom with a full head of white hair and leathery skin. His tall, thin frame gave him a skeletal appearance.

“I never actually saw them cast. Their abilities seemed to be innate, like any man can jump or swing a sword.”

“I can agree with that Serin,” Corin said, dropping the honorary title. It was known that the two men had a dislike for each other, and Jaxom feared that his lack of acceptance among the mages may have been at the root of that dislike. “I did not see any of them cast as I have seen it done, though their abilities were uncanny.”

“What do you think it was then, Magus Jaxom?” Serin said, boldly ignoring the king’s statement.

Jaxom placed a hand on his sword, thinking, and something clicked in his mind. “An enchantment of some sort.”

Serin gaped in disbelief. No one in written history had ever been successful at enchanting a man or any living creature. The ramifications of such a concept were staggering. If men could be enchanted, what else could be done? The young mage scoffed loudly, earning himself another glare from Serin.

“We will need to examine the bodies of these… shades,” Serin said.

That was exactly what Jaxom had been planning. He thought he might be able to delve into the mind of one and perhaps discover who had sent them.

“I ordered the remains to be stored until they can be taken out and burned,” Corin said. “Jaxom, you may examine them when you feel ready,” he continued, looking Jaxom directly in the eye as if to communicate that he had been thinking along the same lines.

“If you wish, you may have a look now, Magus Serin,” the king said, returning his attention back to the older mage.

“If Magus Jaxom’s theory  is correct, the enchantment will likely have broken once the vessel was destroyed. Still, it cannot hurt to inspect them anyway,” Serin said.

“Very good. One of the men outside will direct you to where the bodies are being kept.” Corin gestured towards the door--a dismissal if Jaxom had ever seen one.

              Serin and the other two mages left the room without another word.

              Corin addressed the others present. “That will be all for today. You have your preparations to make, and I suggest you see to them. General Blackburn and Jaxom, please stay.” The men began to file out, but Celia had not moved. The king gave her a hard stare but said nothing until the door was closed again.

              “I told you, Celia. My answer is no,” Corin said.

              “I have every right to command. My father is not young enough to lead men into battle,” she said. Her voice rose as they picked up the argument where they had left off when Jaxom arrived.

              “You haven’t been trained in combat and command. You would only be putting your life and the lives of others in unnecessary danger,” Corin said.

              “Of course I’ve had training. What do you think I’ve been doing at my father’s holding? Trying on pretty dresses?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration.

              Corin spread his hands palms up, indicating that was exactly what he thought. Celia took a step towards him, perhaps to give a demonstration of how deadly trying on pretty dresses could be. The General interrupted by clearing his throat.

              “Perhaps, we can let Jaxom decide if Lady Celia can handle herself. He was with her last night, so he should have a good estimation of her capabilities,” Nelix said.

              Both Corin and Celia looked to the General. “I agree,” Celia said. “Jaxom can tell you. I saved him last night.”

              “I thought you said he saved you,” Corin said.

              “We saved each other,” Celia replied breezily, avoiding the trap Corin had laid.

              “Very well, we’ll let Jaxom decide,” Corin said. With all eyes on him, Jaxom gave the general a withering glare, which the old man returned with a mischievous smile. Celia looked confident and satisfied while Corin simply waited, assured that his oldest friend would side with him.

              Jaxom sighed. “Celia did save me last night, twice in fact. She seems to handle a blade well enough,” Jaxom said tentatively.

              “There you have it.” Celia said.

              “He said you know which end of a sword is the pointy one. Not that you know what to do when a line of cavalry charges your infantry,” Corin said.

              “That’s easy. Move the pike men to the front and have archers fire into the front ranks to break up the charge,” she said smugly.

              The three men in the room stood there dumbstruck. Corin’s mouth-hung half-open. Jaxom had studied battle tactics with Corin. While it was not something he had ever excelled at, he knew her answer was correct. In the midst of their shocked silence, Celia grew increasingly pleased with herself. She even crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at her cousin, something she did when victorious over him in childhood. Realizing what she was doing, she covered her mouth with a hand and turned bright red in embarrassment.

              Finally regaining his composure, Corin stood a little straighter.  Jaxom thought he saw a bit of defeat seep into Celia’s defiant stance. “I don’t care what you learned in a book. It’s not the same--”

              “Leave off, Corin,” Nelix interrupted. “Jaxom says she can handle a sword, and she was quicker to answer than half of the young lordlings we have commanding small units. She obviously knows what she’s about.”

              “Fine,” Corin growled. “But you will work directly under General Blackburn’s command. You will do as he says. Agreed?”

              Celia controlled her smile, barely, and curtsied deeply. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she said, as if the whole idea had been Corin’s and she was simply obeying his command.  

              “General, please take Lady Celia and work her father’s… her men into your current strategy.”

              Bowing at the waist, the General gestured for Celia to lead the way. Celia embraced Corin and Jaxom then walked out, her back straight and shoulders set with pride.