Shaping Magic (24 page)

Epilogue

King Tristan Agether sat pensively on his throne, having one of those days where the past returned to haunt him. Ever since word had come that his wife was still alive and in the company of a young boy—presumably his grandson—he'd had a feeling of impending doom.

Twelve years ago he had made a deal: eternal life and magical power to achieve his dream of conquering all the lands, and to bring order and his rule to the neighboring kingdoms and the other races.  To kill his son and grandson was their price—yes, the price was high. Some nights he still woke up in a cold sweat with what he had done. Not only did he lose his offspring but also his wife that fateful night, or so he had thought.

The power that they imbued him with was incredible, and compared to the magus in his court he was by far the most powerful. The one drawback: Once a year he had to bring one of the magi to sacrifice and drain their power. Next month would be time for the next one; he would soon have to cultivate a relationship with one of them so when they went missing it would not be suspect. Telling their family and friends that they are on a top-secret mission—one they just never return from—had always worked in the past.

Nothing was going his way; that’s not what his unusual allies had promised. They had told the king, with his son and grandson dead, nothing could stand in his way, and for twelve years nothing did.

His grandson was five years old at the time; he should have died that night. How hard was it to kill a five-year-old? And yet he lived. It was all his wife's fault; he had loved her but she had stood in the way of his ambitions. Somehow she had saved him, and kept him hidden all these years, and now here he was helping his enemies, just like they said he would.

“Tell me again how you were stopped from carrying out my orders,” he asked the magus’ shadow.

“Yes, sire. We were at the gate of the Dwarven castle when their magical sun that they used to light the cavern came crashing down, killing your soldiers and allowing the Dwarfs to escape,” the magus said nervously. His king was not known to tolerate failure and usually the messengers of bad news went missing, never to be seen again.

“And why isn't my general here to give me the news?” the king asked.

“Well, sire, he confronted the boy with his shadow to delay him so we could capture him, and somehow the boy destroyed it.”

“What do you mean destroyed it; do you mean he dismissed it?”

“No, Your Highness, I mean he no longer has a shadow; it's gone.”

“That's not possible!” the king exclaimed. “No one has the power to remove someone’s shadow; it's part of a person and cannot be destroyed.”

“I don't know how he did it, but it is true. We even went back to the surface and he stood in the sunlight but he still doesn't cast a shadow,” the magus told the king.

“Tell him to come to me; I want to see this for myself. As for the army, I want you to track the boy and the Dwarfs down, and eliminate them,” he ordered. “And one last thing, general,” he added in a sinister voice, “don't fail me.”

“Yes, sire, understood,” the magus whispered as his shadow faded from view.

When his shadow was back, the magus breathed a sigh of relief, but at the thought of his promotion, he was scared of what would happen if he failed to capture or kill the boy and the Dwarfs. This time it would be his neck on the line, not his superior’s. With trepidation, he moved to carry out his king’s orders.

Once the magus was gone, the king turned to his ally, the one that had been with him since the beginning. “How is it possible that the boy could destroy someone’s shadow?”

“We do not know, but that is why you needed to remove him. There has never been a shaper of magic before, so we do not know all he is capable of. We must find him and eliminate him as soon as possible,” the hooded man said with his strange and compelling voice.

In all the time he had spent with him, the king had never seen what he looked like, but the voice was so compelling that every time he thought to ask, something always changed his mind.

“I still do not understand exactly what a shaper of magic is. Is he just some powerful magus?” the king asked.

“No, from what little we know about him, he does not create the magic, but he is able to use others’ magic and transform it to do his own bidding.”

“That doesn't seem to be that great of a power; I mean, if he can't create it, he would have no defence against someone just sticking a knife in his back,” the king said with disdain.

“Tell that to your magus with no shadow; as I said, we do not know all he is capable of doing and from reports, he is most deadly with his twin swords. Getting close enough to stick a knife in his back won't be as easy as that.”

“Yes, but no swordsman could stand up to a magus,” the king insisted.

Sometimes dealing with these Humans was tiring to the Merrow, but for now they needed them to carry out their plans to rid the world of all lesser races. “And how much good would a magus be when any magic they used could be turned against them? The boy is more dangerous then any magi, and as such, has to be eliminated before he realizes his true potential,” he told the king.

The king sat in silence, thinking on what the hooded man had told him. “Yes, I understand why he could be so dangerous to our plans. He will be hunted down and killed so he doesn't interfere with us, and soon we will rule the land, and order will reign forever,” the king said with confidence.

The Merrow only nodded his agreement. If this pathetic Human knew the truth behind their plans, he wouldn't be so quick to kill his own grandson—their only chance at escaping total destruction. With the Dragons safely imprisoned and the Elves mostly eliminated, all that was left were the Dwarfs and the humans. Even with the magic shaper they didn't stand much of a chance. They would still hunt him down and kill him just in case. They would not take a chance that he could disrupt their plans; the Merrow had learned their lesson in the first war with the inhabitants of the world. They would not understate them again.

Written by

Michael C Dalrymple