Rebel Mage Read online

  Rebel Mage

  Empire on Fire, Volume 1

  Dan Decker

  Published by Grim Archer Media, 2021.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  REBEL MAGE

  First edition. May 7, 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 Dan Decker.

  Written by Dan Decker.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  Epilogue

  Books by Dan Decker

  About the Author

  Author’s Note

  Sneak Peek

  For my family.

  Prologue

  The rain came at dawn, covering the valley in a shroud of mist and running water. It came in torrents, as if waterfalls had formed in the sky, intent on drowning the valley, but the sky was almost empty. The only clouds were white.

  The wind was still.

  Streams became raging rivers. Rivers grew fast and violent. Floods that started as trickles grew to a dull roar. A small lake in the valley was lost in competing floods, old decaying wooden structures surrounding it were erased from existence.

  The stone city—in truth, the forgotten stone city—that stood on a hill to the side of the lake was beginning to flood before the end of an hour. By the time the sun had reached its zenith, stone statues that had stood for millennia were submerged. An amphitheater that could hold upwards of ten thousand people was filled, became a lake, and then was lost in the flood.

  Yet, the rain still came.

  Shortly after noon, an older man hunched with age shuffled onto what had been a balcony of the temple and found water lapping just below where he stood. It had formerly been seven stories above the ground. The man’s burnished armor pinged with the force of the rain. Water leaked through his helmet and into his eyes, forcing him to blink it back as it trickled down his worn, sun-spotted skin.

  His eyes widened when he looked up.

  Where is the storm? Rorel Understok wondered as he placed his hands on the stone railing.

  The temple grounds were not visible, except for the langiffer pines which stretched high above where Rorel stood. The walls that had surrounded the temple were submerged. In all the centuries he’d lived in Cerpatar, he’d never seen its equal. The rain still fell.

  Yet there was no storm.

  A thousand years ago or so, the flood would have been a disaster, but as Cerpatar was abandoned by all but Rorel and his captives, he wasn’t much concerned.

  The floodwater—which had previously only been disturbed by the rain—now had waves running across the top.

  Yet there was no wind.

  This was no mere change in the weather. He’d have noticed before today. Rorel squinted, trying to see if there were other such wave patterns further out on the water. If there were, there was too much tumult for him to see.

  Despite the increasing water level, he didn’t move. He gripped the railing and enjoyed the rain. He’d been alone so many years he welcomed the touch of the raindrops. It felt good to feel something that had a semblance of life against his body.

  When the waters lapped against his knees, he decided it was time to move to a higher level. The rain would stop eventually. The tower had many more stories; he was not in danger. The flood may last for a time, but it would recede. Even with his gardens below flooded, he had enough planted throughout the upper balconies of the temple that he could wait it out.

  Rorel held the railing as he followed it around the circular balcony, not trusting his frail strength alone to stand against the water that swirled around him. He didn’t notice the lone figure at the balcony door until he was almost on top of him.

  His lips moved but it took several moments for his voice to work. The figure’s eyes bored into him.

  “Saar,” Rorel said, at last, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. He hadn’t remembered it sounding so raspy. It was no louder than a whisper and drew a smirk to Saar’s face.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were still here, old man.” Saar’s voice was as Rorel remembered, strong and deep. The man, despite his short size, could bellow when he had a mind. If the years had taken a toll on Saar, Rorel was unable to tell.

  Even with Rorel’s sagging shoulders, he still stood a head taller than Saar. It was part of what had made people underestimate the evil man.

  Who am I fooling? Rorel wondered. He would have done the things he’d done regardless of his size.

  What Saar lacked in height, he made up for in width and muscle. His forearms were thicker than Rorel’s thighs, reminding Rorel of a log. His tiny eyes were still sunk into his oversized skull. The tattooed lines that ran from the top of his shaved head and down his face almost seemed to glow.

  The man stood with the same straight-backed posture and smug smile.

  The same one I see in my nightmares, Rorel thought. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he should be alarmed. Panicked, even. But he couldn’t summon the energy to stress.

  “This isn’t possible,” Rorel said. “You shouldn’t—”

  “If it wasn’t,” Saar said dryly while shaking his head, the tattooed lines making it look as if he had a spider affixed to his face, “why’d you spend a millennium drinking the juice off the kippy pear to keep an eye on me and mine?

  “No, what you really mean to say is that you planned poorly. Your plans didn’t take into account the ravages of time nor their impact on you.” He held up his hands and examined them. “More than a thousand years and I haven’t aged a day, thanks to your prison. But you, old man, lack the strength to stop me. I doubt you can still summon the light.”

  Saar laughed. It wasn’t the maniacal laugh that had made the world bow in fear; no, it was more subdued and mellow. The menace that had been obvious before he’d been placed in the residio vault was no longer there.

  That’s not right, Rorel thought when he looked into Saar’s eyes. It’s still there, as much as it ever was. It’s just deeper now. Internalized. The rain pounded down even harder, forcing Rorel to squint as he regarded Saar.

  The two figures stood, oblivious to the passing of time. It could have been an hour; it could have been more.

  Time had lost much of its meaning to Rorel.

  It dawned on Rorel that something else was different about Saar.

  He had learned patience.

  And I was the fool who helped him learn it, Rorel thought with a shudder of horror. Saar had never been able to wait. It was that one weakness that had been his undoing. The one thing Rorel had always been able to count on to betray Saar.

  “How?” Rorel stammered. “At least tell me how you escaped.”

  Saar’s laugh changed. It was subtle, Rorel’s aged senses almost missed it. There was a tinge of bitterness. That wasn’t unexpected, considering he’d been trapped for so long. But it was surprising. He almost seemed to regard Rorel with a sense of respect.

  Even gratitude.

  “I owe you, old man. All my enemies are long gone.” Saar shook his head. “But I don’t owe you enough to tell you the truth.” He thrust his arms up into the rain, the sun illuminating him like a god, and his arms glowed. “I’ll let you live out your life, such as it is. If you find the will to consume ano
ther, come find me.” He smiled as he lifted off the ground.

  “I’ll be back for the rest. Keep an eye on them.”

  1

  The gong rang out, crashing through the cold evening air as if it were the metal hand of a god calling for its human sacrifice. Even though it stood a block away at the center of the town square, the sound struck Kaor Hund as if somebody had punched him in the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. It reverberated through his head, down his back, and into his spine, causing his feet and other extremities to tingle with nervous energy.

  He was hit with an even worse shock when he saw that his hands glowed.

  Didn’t I let go of the light? Kaor asked himself, shaking his free hand as if to get rid of it, which, of course, didn’t do any good. I only called it for a moment. Surely, I let it go? I didn’t even call much. It shouldn’t have been noticeable. He tore through his memory, but it was already foggy, so focused he had been on Leah Canes.

  How many kinds a fool am I?

  Beside him, Leah had a similar reaction when the brassy note slammed through what had been a calm evening. She turned to Kaor, wide-eyed and mouth moving without words. The setting sun peeked out of the gray winter clouds, through the falling snow, and highlighted her dark hair as her hand crushed his.

  Her eyes narrowed at the sight of his luminescent fingers interlocked with hers.

  “What have you done?” Leah asked in a hoarse whisper, releasing his hand and pressing the flower back into his. “I told you not to mess with the flower. You’ve killed us both.” Her eyes grew wide and she took a step away from him, her hand going to her mouth in an exaggerated gesture.

  Kaor recognized she was acting surprised for the benefit of anybody watching.

  Multo’s mother. He would never hear the end of this.

  He swallowed.

  No, that wasn’t true. They would never again have a private conversation.

  He had to run. It was the only choice he had.

  No! Kaor thought, refusing to just leave behind all he knew. He had too much invested in Leah to flee without trying to convince her to come with him.

  “We don’t know this is about me,” Kaor whispered, “it could be for somebody else.”

  “Nobody is going to miss your hands,” Leah hissed quietly, keeping her own hands to her face to cover her lips. She took another step back. Were those tears trickling down her cheeks? Or melting snow? She was a much better actor than he’d given her credit for if they were real. “Let go of the light, now! Run!”

  Kaor licked his lips while glancing around, hoping nobody but Leah had noticed his mistake. The street had been empty moments before, but the gong always drew curious eyes.

  Eyes that now looked at him.

  Even though it was futile, Kaor thrust both hands into his jacket pockets, crushing the flower as he did, but that didn’t help. The light emanated from his hands and through the threadbare fabric.

  Why can’t I let go? Kaor wondered. He couldn’t even feel the light. He knew he should have worn his winter coat.

  A man cried out, drawing Kaor’s eyes ahead of them.

  “He’s over there!” The man pointed a finger in Kaor’s direction. “Right there!” He pulled out a knife and held it out as if afraid Kaor would attack.

  “No, this is wrong,” Kaor muttered. He pulled out his own much larger knife, his cursed hand still glowing. Try as he might, he could not release the light. It had a mind of its own.

  The thick blade gave him cold comfort, but it was better than nothing. Tommer had made it for a customer who hadn’t been able to pay. Kaor had saved for a summer to buy the blade from the blacksmith. It was nearly a foot and a half long—hardly a sword—but the hefty weight was better than nothing, especially with the mob that was forming. “No, no, no! There has to be a way out of this.” He looked at the man, who he recognized now as a traveling merchant. “I don’t have control over this. This isn’t me.”

  The man stepped back at the sight of Kaor’s knife but made no other move to retreat. Indeed, as more joined him on the street, the man had less to fear.

  “Drop your knife. It will go better for you.”

  East Ridge was Kaor’s home. He didn’t want to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to stay. It was unfair he should be killed because he could wield the light like a mage.

  Why was that a reason to kill him?

  “I’m sorry,” Leah whispered. It was just audible, and her lips barely moved. “I am so sorry. You know what I have to do.”

  “Come with me!” Kaor knew her answer but couldn’t help asking. “We’ll go together.”

  “Not like this. No.” She took a step back.

  He looked into her eyes, wondering what he’d do if the situation were reversed. He’d run with her, wouldn’t he?

  Until Ruc stuck a spear in my back, he thought.

  Leah screamed and pointed a finger at Kaor.

  2

  The last light of day disappeared while Kaor tried to understand Leah’s actions. It was one thing to pretend to be shocked, quite another to draw more attention to him.

  All thought of running evaporated, like a boiling pot going dry. His hands curled into fists, and he could feel his face turn red. He was afraid to speak, afraid to show the emotion that filled him like a cauldron of fire.

  How could she do this to him, after they had shared so much?

  Voices came from all around as the empty street filled with people.

  You have to run, said a little voice in the back of his mind. The words bounced around his skull but did not penetrate his conscious thought process or even cut through his anger. He had never thought Leah would be capable of something like this. He had imagined being discovered several times, and he’d always imagined her agreeing to come with him.

  He knew if they left together, they could find their way in the wide world. A feeling he couldn’t explain told him that leaving alone would be certain death. He knew it in his gut.

  “Don’t do th—”

  “It’s him!” Leah’s voice cut him off but was drowned out by the ringing gong. “He’s right here. Lights above, save us all! I can’t believe you lied to me! I trusted you.”

  Kaor knew he needed to run, but he couldn’t make his feet move. In less than half a second, his life had been turned upside down, going from a pleasant evening to a nightmare.

  You bleeding fool, he thought. What can you expect her to do when the law calls for the heads of those who aid rebel mages?

  She had warned him to go. He should have disappeared months ago. Could he blame her for saving her own skin?

  Even as Kaor despised her and was angry with her, he realized he might have done the same thing in her shoes.

  Lights above, he had done similar. He pushed away his memory of the night Mira had died.

  If even one of the other East Ridge villagers accused her, Leah would be hard-pressed to make a case. She needed to mitigate the fact she’d been holding hands with a man whose hands had glowed with the light.

  The gong sounded yet again, bringing more people to the doors of their homes.

  “It’s that Kaor boy,” said the merchant, his eyes big with possibility but not taking them from Kaor’s knife. Kaor was surprised the man knew his name. Kaor didn’t know his.

  “I always knew he was trouble,” Franni Faol said as she joined the merchant. “Didn’t I suspect he might be a rebel? I told you just last week, didn’t I?”

  “You armed, Franni?” the merchant asked. “We could split the Emperor’s Gift. That girl can’t capture him alone.” He glared at Leah. “Besides, she was aiding him, wasn’t she?”

  “That’s how it looked to me.”

  Leah bristled at the insinuation but kept quiet.

  “Can’t they see this is insane?” Kaor muttered. “The whole thing is madness.” He could stop them dead in their tracks if he wanted. His hands glowed with an ever-increasing amount of light. He had let go of it, but it kept gathering.

/>   The merchant brandished his knife, as did others behind him, in an apparent effort to scare Kaor. It didn’t work. Now that he was revealed, he had more options at his disposal. The thought of using them made him sad. These were men and women Kaor knew, people he’d known since he was a boy.

  With a final look at Leah, he turned to run towards the woods and found the way blocked by Stanner Trachur and others who stood behind him. Jules, Stanner’s wife, pushed to the front of the group.

  “Drop the knife, boy,” she said.

  “Out of my way.” Kaor brought up his knife but didn’t strike. He knew the moment he did, the mob would take him down. He’d seen it happen.

  The gong rang out again.

  Would the thing stop ringing? It sounded like a young boy had gotten hold of the mallet and didn’t know that once was all it took.

  How many times had Kaor heard that sound over the years? How often had it haunted his recent dreams?

  And now it called for him.

  Stanner shielded his eyes with a hand as he stared into Kaor’s. He was well-liked and carried an aura of authority that was unique to him as the former mayor of East Ridge.

  “Step back from him, Leah,” Stanner said, putting a hand on Leah’s shoulder. Leah’s frown was brief. Despite the discomfort on her face, she didn’t recoil from Stanner’s touch, even though she rarely let other people touch her. She went with his hand as he pushed her back. “There’s no telling what he might do.”

  “Use your dagger,” Jules said, her eyes gleaming with the possibility of claiming the Emperor’s Gift. “Do it quick before someone else does.”

  “Out of the way or I’ll cut you!” Kaor made a warning slash, his knife held in front of him in a threatening fashion. He’d always liked Stanner, but he wasn’t about to let the old man take him.

  Stanner looked from his wife to Kaor. His hand reached for the hilt of his knife, but he didn’t pull it out. His mouth was a thin line, his upper lip curled, making Kaor think he was disgusted, but there was something more as well. It wasn’t fear.