Don't Say the Magic Word
1: Marked
A narrow dirt path cut through the dense forest, which was situated somewhere between the lands of Erios and Orivre. Someone- a young man dressed in a simple tunic and a worn cloak- hurried down it with an anxious expression.
He titled his face to see the ragged strip of sky above, formed by the canopy of majestic trees that lined the path. It was a perfectly clear day, with high winds that tousled the trees' leaves about in a most jolly manner. A wisp of silvery hair blew into the young man's face, which prompted a little voice in the back of his mind to whisper, 'I need a haircut...'
He ignored the pesky voice. He didn't have scissors with him, anyway; and it was not as though he could spontaneously conjure up a pair. That was not the type of magic he had learned at the Academy.
Magic- that was the cause of his problem.The boy sighed, the worry that had left his heart for the briefest of moments settling cozily back in. He had no time to linger and soak in the day's loveliness. He shook off his feeling of serenity that had momentarily eased his tension. He was still in Erios- conquered Erios. A year ago, it would have been relatively safe for him to walk in these woods unaccompanied. But now, Erios was occupied by Orivre and was overrun with its soldiers and bounty hunters, all of whom made ita fondpoint to kill people like him.
The young man's hand reached up to rest upon a peculiar scar on his cheek. He let it linger there as he reflected upon his situation. It was a magic brand, a special mark that a master wizard had burned onto his face as punishment for "cowardice". It served to let all who beheld it know that this young man, Linove, was an Eriosian wizard.
Most wizards had this mark somewhere on their bodies, and in a lighter, barely detectable color, but to have it so prominently displayed on one's face was disgraceful for what it meant. It was also very dangerous, if one had to travel through other lands. Erios was famous for using magic in its warfare against other countries; thus, mages, wizards, and the like were deeply hated throughout the rest of the land.
And now that the once-powerful Erios had recently been crushed and invaded by Orivre, its magicians had been scattered throughout the continent. Linove rubbed his cheek with a wistful smile. If he didn't have this mark, he could simply refrain from using magic and make a livelihood some other way.
Here Linove paused in his musings. What other way was there for him? Other than his talent in magic, he was not certain he had any other skills that would earn food and shelter. He thought hard as he walked. 'I can read and write, I can clean, and I can cook- theoretically, that is.' He smiled at himself in a self-deprecatory way. 'By the gods, I sound like a woman. What else is there? I help make plants grow, but I need magic to do that…'
At this point, Linove decided that he really was rather useless. The one other thing he could do was a bit of fighting. His childhood mentor, a rather odd woman by the name of Naline, had taught him some hand-to hand combat along with basic magic. But Linove did not relish the thought of running around the countryside breaking people's faces in village brawls, merely for the coins that such a spectacle would earn. He was considerably stronger than his thin frame would suggest, but he was not that strong. Besides, the thought of hitting someone filled the mild-mannered boy with distaste.
However, it did not help to mull over "what-ifs". The fact remained that Linove's face was branded, and thus there was no way he would be able to live peacefully among others even if he did have some sort of skill that would help him earn his bread. Stories of Orivreans' hatred of magicians and the heinous way they were treated had been widely told throughout Erios. Linove had never traveled outside of his homeland, so he was not certain as to what he was getting himself into, but he knew it could not be good.
There was no way he could turn back, however. Erios had been practically crawling with those out for the blood of wizards and mages, especially since Orivre's king had declared a campaign to wipe out every last magic-user on the continent. That was why Linove was hurrying to leave Erios now. What he wanted most was to be able to live his life in peace- somehow. But the first thing he had to do was not get himself killed, which was almost certain to happen if Linove did not leave Erios before a mage hunter found him-
Suddenly, Linove looked up. A foreboding change was in the air. Heaviness seemed to settle over his senses as the spiritual currents around him shifted. He narrowed his green eyes. Someone was nearby, following him.
He increased his pace as if to run away, knowing that this would draw out his pursuers. Seconds later, a form materialized on the path before him: first one, then two and finally four: four wizards of black magic.
Linove froze. Such men were particularly powerful, as well as particularly dangerous. In order to gain mastery of the dark arts, one had to give up an important or precious part of themselves- their soul, a family member, perhaps an arm or leg. In exchange, they received great and terrifying power. The more painful the sacrifice, the more power a person could receive. But nobody who was willing to cast away so much, even for that, could be anything but evil after the sacrifice had been made.
They all stood there for a long moment, eyeing each other silently. Linove did not bother asking what they were here for. He already knew; he could feel the atmosphere thick with their ill intent. The men were garbed in black with hoods shadowing their faces.
One of them finally stepped forward and drew his hood back, revealing long black hair swept back from a chalky white face. There was a sinister glint in his black eyes as he approached. They were truly the eyes of a traitor: not a "traitor" like Linove, who had declined to serve his king and country, but one who would stab the back of his countrymen for his own gain.
"Ahh, here you are," the black-haired man smiled. "We were looking for you. I sensed an unusual concentration of magic in this area. Oh, and that mark on your face is quite hard to miss. It is the brand of an Eriosian traitor, is it not?" He and his companions began to step slowly towards Linove, each moving in perfect sync with the others. The man continued talking. "Or wait- was that the one they gave for cowardice? For refusing to fulfill one's contract with an academy of wizardry, where they give free schooling to talented children in exchange for several years of military service upon certification? In other words," the man's lips smiled contemptuously around his next words, "the mark of a coward?"
Linove said nothing. A flush broke across his normally pale features. Cowardice- that was almost amusing. As if the easy thing had been to walk away from that war, from being sent out in a drove to cast curses upon the fields of Orivre so that they would no longer give produce to the people who made their livelihood from it. As if it had been easy to be held down while the furious headmaster used his powerful magic to slowly burn that mark onto Linove's face because he chose not to help his government starve its enemies to death.
But no, the Orivreans who suffered from such curses were not even enemies of the Eriosian government- they were innocent peasants, caught up in a petty power struggle between monarchs. Linove recalled how sick he had felt, watching the professors demonstrate how to sap a field of its vitality. A little ways in the distance, he had been able to hear the laughter of children whose nourishment came from those very fields. After Linove received his wizard's certification and was told to go enlist in the military's magic units, he had not been able to make himself do so, even knowing what would happen to him if he refused.
The man strode forward as he continued talking, "It is a shame, really. That scar. You have a lovely face- such sensitive, gentle features. Like a woman's. What do you specialize in- earth magic? Or the magic of the winds? One of those, from the looks of those threadbare rags you wear. It was obviously a uniform, in its better days."
The academy Linove had attended exclusively taught earth and forest magic, and he had learned some wind magic from his mentor. He still kept silent, moving back in time with the wizards' forward movement.
"You don't look the traitorous sort, boy, unlike my men and I. We are fine specimens of the breed, are we not?" laughed the black-haired man. The others nodded in solemn agreement. Obviously, they were his subordinates; probably his pupils, even. Which meant that this was no mere wizard Linove was dealing with- this man was a sorcerer. "Why, we would even hunt down our fellow Eriosian magicians, just for a handful of coins and a smidgeon of glory. The King of Orivre really is an intelligent man- what better way to get rid of those who practice magic than by hiring masters of the art? But someone as soft-looking as you could never do anything nearly so terrible as mage-hunting, brand or no brand. You must not have been able to stomach the thought of going to war." He scoffed, "Not only do you have the face of a woman, I'll wager you have the heart of one as well."
Finally Linove spoke quietly. "No."
"You think not?" The sorcerer grinned. "Let us see if we can prove you wrong." He raised one hand in signal, and the three wizards behind him attacked.
Linove moved quickly. He used a spell to expand the time that passed around him, giving him more time to see what the men were about to do. All three moved in smooth formation, one of them ahead of the others. If Linove timed his own movement just right-
He took a quick step toward their formation, his body at an angle. This threw the men off, and they jerked back to prepare for any attack the boy might have had for them. Taking advantage of their momentary disorientation, Linove lunged so that he was behind the wizard in the front.
The young man unleashed a blast of wind at his legs, knocking the dark wizard over. He made a quick, intricate weaving motion through the air with one finger, murmuring, "Fil'elal'- a paralysis spell. It bound the wizard's arms and legs, effectively taking him out of the fight.
Before Linove could recover from the cast, however, one of the remaining wizards let out a surge of black magic, ramming the boy against one of the trees by the path.
The other man stretched out his hand, out of which shot a thin, shimmering black beam. Linove gasped as it pierced straight through his left shoulder.
"We've got him," he heard one of the black-robed men mutter. His companion nodded and charged at Linove, a hand reaching out for his throat. At the last second, the boy jumped to the side and turned to swing his leg hard against the man's back. Instead of landing on his feet, however, Linove ended up slamming hard against the ground. He bit back a moan and clutched his shoulder, struggling to push himself up. Blood spilled freely out of the wound, dyeing the cloak he was wearing with a thick reddish-black stain.
Linove managed to struggle to his feet and turned to the other two, who regrouped in front of the wizard who had addressed him. Without batting an eyelash over their fallen comrade, they formed a dual battle position, circling him slowly. Standing behind the two of them, an amused smile spreading across his features, was the sorcerer who had earlier established himself as their master.
The odds stood sorely against Linove. No matter what his skill was, a lone magician had little chance of victory against three others all attacking him at once. These were no pupils Linove was dealing with, either: they were full-fledged dark wizards, and powerful ones at that. Still, in spite of his seeming meekness, Linove was not one to give up without a good fight. He positioned himself in a defensive stance with one hand held out before him, ready to spellcast.
The black-haired man stepped forward, motioning for his subordinates to fall back. "You are not half bad," he smiled. He was well pleased. "And here I was starting to think I would not have any fun today."
Abruptly, he lunged. Linove gasped when a powerful blast of black magic knocked him backwards, slamming him hard against the ground. Before Linove could get himself up, his arms were pinned to the ground by the sorcerer's knees. He winced at the pain that surged from his shoulder through the rest of his body. Meanwhile, the man straddled the Linove's chest so that there was no way for him to break loose.
"Now," the sorcerer said in a voice laden with bone-chilling sweetness. "Lie still, little one. I promise you, this will not hurt one bit."