Admonition of a Traitor

©2001 Kyle Vorwerk & Joshua Scott
All rights reserved.

Without warning the galloping horse collapsed, and Arion was thrown from his saddle. Caught unaware, he nevertheless managed to land in something resembling a roll. Pain shot through his body as he hit the hard-packed dirt road, but it didn't appear that anything was broken. Even so, he laid on the ground for several long minutes before trying to rise.

Stumbling over to the animal, Arion saw it was dead, ridden down in his haste. He had acted foolishly in his rush to escape. Now he would be forced to continue on foot. That would slow him down and make his capture easier.

An uneasy feeling flooded him, as though he were being watched. Arion's head shot up, and he gazed down the twisting road. It was empty. Sighing in relief, he surveyed the area, trying to gather his bearings. Arion knew he was somewhere in the middle of the Jade Forest, but he was unsure of his exact location. Shrugging, he decided it did not really matter. Without a steed he could not stay on the road. Those following him would find him quickly enough were he to do that. His only hope was within the dark wood itself.

Limping, Arion walked a few hundred yards back the way he came and then entered the forest—that would, he hoped, throw off any trackers or at least delay them. Almost immediately he had to begin pushing his way through the thick undergrowth. It was hard work, as the Jade Forest was particularly dense. Common knowledge said the road was the only route through. Arion was counting on this to help keep him safe.

The oppressive midday heat weighed heavily on Arion's already exhausted body. Sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging them and blurring his vision. Arion paused for a moment to wipe his forehead with one hand. When he pulled it away he noticed blood on his sleeve. He had been trying to protect himself from whipping branches and brambles, but he wasn't being very successful. His cloak was also ripped, and Arion still ached from his fall. This was proving to be much more difficult than he anticipated, but he had no choice. He had to continue on. He could not give up.

Arion intended to get out of the Talayne Empire, and despite the setback, he was hopeful he would succeed. The border was nearby. He was certain of that. But even when he left his homeland, they would still pursue him. No mage had ever left the Order. It was forbidden on penalty of slow death. Arion had dared disobey this first and most important of their laws; the magnitude of his task justified the danger.

As he moved deeper into the forest, he heard sounds of life. Insects buzzed about overhead, and he could hear the piercing cries of birds and other creatures high above in the canopy. He wondered briefly what kind of animals inhabited this wood, and if they were a threat to him. Arion shook off his fear. It was too dense for anything large to be living here. Wolf packs preferred open ground.

Suddenly all noise ceased. Arion stopped immediately and looked around. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. Only the sound of his ragged breathing could be heard. Slowly he pushed his red hair back. It was soaked with sweat. What was happening?

"Arion," came a soft whisper.

The young mage clenched his hands.

"Arion, you must return."

"Who are you?" he demanded. They couldn't have found him this soon, could they? He had been sure he would get at least a full day's start before anyone would notice him missing.

The voice laughed shrilly.

"You know who I am, Arion. But tell me, why do you run like this? You must return to your home."

"I am a mage now, Simeon," said Arion. How could Simeon be involved in this? He had left the empire weeks ago on a secret mission for the Order. Had they searched Simeon out to help hunt him down? "I have more than enough power to keep you from taking me back!"

"You have talent, yes, but you do not yet fully understand it. Come back to us, Arion. This is not your place. You belong with your own kind."

Arion shook his head. To go back was to die. The Magi Order was not forgiving toward those who betrayed it. He began moving again, pressing ahead faster. The voice did not say anything else, but he did not believe it was gone. His old master was lurking about somewhere, watching him.

From the corner of his eye, Arion spied a dark shadow. He spun to look, but nothing was there. Was this real, like the voice, or was it in his mind? Arion was tired and in a great deal of pain. He would have thought it paranoia brought on by these conditions, but he kept catching the briefest glimpses of the shadow, always off to the side out of his direct vision.

Then it passed before him—a blur of darkness. Arion backed up quickly and a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder. Spinning, he prepared an attack, but the enemy turned out to be the broken branch of a dead tree. Slowly he put a hand behind him. His shirt was sticky with blood. It stung, but it didn't seem too serious. It was certainly not life threatening.

A deep sigh filled the air.

"You must come home, Arion. You are not prepared for this. You are making foolish mistakes. Come back to us. You will be forgiven. This is not your fault. You have committed no crime."

"No!" shouted Arion as he ran away from the voice.

"Where do you think you are going?" it called after him. "Do you think you can turn away from your people, your family, so easily?"

Arion gritted his teeth as he heard the pleas fading behind him. What was Simeon doing?

The next few hours passed without incident, and Arion was able to focus on the situation at hand. He was certain the voice was truly that of his old master, Simeon. It was possible for another mage to imitate the voice, but unlikely. Simeon was the one who knew him best—after all, he had been the one to take Arion out of that miserable farming village and admit him to the Order's academy when he was a child. Arion had practically been raised by the man. Yes, it would be Simeon who came for him. That was the way it was done. The Order chose the most capable for each task. Total obedience and loyalty were expected, and any personal objections were simply disregarded as being irrelevant.

The Magi Order held great power in the Talayne Empire. It frightened Arion even now. And almost no one knew the truth of their nature. Only the emperor himself and a few top officials understood what they were. The common people thought of them as scholars and teachers, and the Order funded many of its activities with the fees paid to tutor the children of nobility. It had been this way for over 60 years, and Arion wondered if anyone would believe him when he revealed the Order’s secret.

The truth, of course, was that the only genuine magic in the world was controlled by the Magi Order. There were always frauds and charlatans who claimed magical prowess, but the extent of their powers always seemed to be providing love potions or other dubious trinkets to the ignorant. It was among his people only that true magic existed, and they kept this secret at all costs.

The forest began to thin, and Arion swung his attention back to the now. The thick undergrowth slowly gave way to open areas of grass, and he noticed the stumps of freshly cut trees. He was nearing civilization. A few minutes later he was out of the forest and standing at the edge of small field. Arion glanced up towards the cloudless sky. The sun was slowly descending behind Jade Forest. He was glad to finally be in the open. It would be impossible to see in that dense wood at night.

In the distance were several buildings. With nowhere else to go, Arion quickly headed for them. As he approached, the smell of a fire burning became evident. Someone was cooking. Arion's mouth began to water.

The largest structure turned out to be a tavern and the source of the enticing aroma. Arion quickly threw open the oak door and stepped inside. The interior was dark and smoky from the cheap oil lanterns used to keep the place illuminated, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The bartender immediately stopped his work to stare at him. Arion knew he must look terrible. His cloak was torn, and he was covered with dirt and a fair amount of blood.

Slowly he walked up to the bar and laid down a small piece of silver.

"I would like food and drink, sir."

The bartender stared at him silently, then sighed and gestured to a small table in the far corner, away from the other patrons. Arion sat down with a groan and waited a few minutes before the man brought him a large bowl of stew and a tankard of ale. He devoured the food ravenously. It had been a day since he last ate a proper meal; not since before he began his flight from the empire.

Finishing his dinner, which had done much to improve his mood, Arion rose and went to speak with the bartender.

"Are there horses around here that I could purchase?" he asked. A painful memory of the animal he rode to death flashed through his mind.

The bartender snorted. "There are none in this place for sale. Only oxen for working the farms."

Arion grimaced and let his eyes fall. An ox would not help him reach his destination.

"Can I have a room and a bath?" he asked. Arion knew it was a mistake to stop, but he had to get some rest if he was to continue on. And it would be nice to wash the grime from his body.

"There’s no place here for you," said the bartender, roughly.

"I can pay—" began Arion.

"I fed you because you could pay," interrupted the man, "but I won't have filth such as yourself stinking up my inn. Leave now."

Arion thought of protesting, but the handful of patrons in the place rose to their feet. They seemed to be friends of this bartender, or perhaps they thought him nothing but a beggar behaving above his station. He did not doubt his ability to defeat them with his magic, under normal circumstances, but he lacked the energy. He could not afford to waste it here. He silently walked for the door, ignoring the cold stares directed his way.

Outside, Arion quietly made his way around the side of the building. There was an empty stable in the rear. Making sure no one was watching, he slipped inside and covered himself with hay in one of the back stalls. The hay would keep him warm and hidden should anyone pass by. The lowly accommodations were very different from what he was used to. At the academy, even as an apprentice, he had plush rooms, not too luxurious but better than most people had. There was never a shortage of food or wine. It was only one day since he fled, and he was already forced to sleep in a stable. It reminded him all too much of his childhood when he had to steal food just to survive.

"Arion."

The young mage stirred uneasily in his sleep.

"Arion," repeated the disembodied voice.

The mage snapped awake and pushed the hay back. There seemed to be no one in the stable, but he was not sure. The weak moonlight from the open windows barely lifted the darkness within the stable. Was he just dreaming this time?

"You must return."

Arion leapt to his feet. Angrily, he tried to brush off some of the hay clinging to his ruined clothes.

"Show yourself. I will not be played with like this."

A shadowy form appeared before him and quickly assumed the visage of an aging man with thick gray hair and striking blue eyes. It was Simeon.

"You are bringing this suffering upon yourself, my friend. Look at you. You are injured and alone." The older man shook his head. "It does not have to be this way. It should not be this way."

"I do what I have to. I won't let you get away with this."

Simeon sighed.

"Think back to your studies. You are a promising student and strong in talent. You push yourself too hard, however. You don't fully grasp the danger you are in. Your mind has been affected by the many powerful spells you have sought to cast; magic that you should not have attempted without supervision. You must return so we can treat you."

"Don't try to distract me," snapped Arion. "I know of your plots. I know Talayne is about to use the Order to strengthen its armies in a new war of conquest. I saw your plans to attack Utyiume. I cannot allow that. They are neutral. They have always been neutral. Even when the other nations rose up against us, Utyiume stayed out of the war. Such a war is wrong!"

"Think of what you are saying, Arion." Simeon's image moved a few steps closer. "It has been more than two centuries since we have acted the aggressors. The days when the mighty Talayne Empire ruled most of the continent are gone. Now we live in peace and prosperity within our homeland. Do you think we want to bring the death back, the violence?"

"Power is tempting," said Arion slowly.

Simeon held a hand out to his former student.

"Then why hasn't the Order usurped the throne? Why do we serve the people as teachers instead of ruling over them? You are confused, Arion. Return to us. The longer you wait, the more difficult it will become." He shifted his feet. "We have seen this happen to other promising mages, Arion. The magic is new, unpredictable at times, even to those who were there from the beginning such as myself. There are many dangers, and more than a few are psychological."

Arion was silent for a moment, and Simeon's image leaned forward in anticipation. Perhaps Simeon was correct. Lately his mind has been a thunderstorm of pain and inconsistencies. Some of the magic he had been attempting was complex and dangerous. It could conceivably damage his mind. But Arion had seen the plans for the invasion himself. He had held the official papers in his hand. It had not been a hallucination.

Suddenly the young mage drew his dagger and cut into his arm. Concentrating on the pain, the outward flow of his life's energy, he saw and became part of the colorful magical web that surrounded all things. Selecting a handful of its strands, he shaped them according to his will. A stream of fire appeared before him and shot out to strike the image of his teacher. The image vanished in a flash of light.

Laying back on the hay once more, Arion closed his eyes. He smiled slightly, Simeon must be getting desperate to contact him in this way. It was very difficult to cast an image of oneself over great distances, and very draining. Simeon would not be able to do it again soon. Perhaps he would get through this after all, but first he needed a bit more rest before he continued on to Utyiume. He had to try and find another horse as well. Time was imperative.

Blood slowly dripped from his arm into the hay, but the wound was shallow and soon clotted. Arion did not seem to notice or care as he fell back into a restless sleep.

It was dawn when Arion entered the sprawling city of Utyiume. He quietly passed through the gates in the midst of a group of farmers taking their wares to market. The guards scanned the little gathering, but Arion made sure to stay out of their direct sight. He had washed his clothes and body a few hours before in a cold stream, but even so he looked ragged and feared they would deny him entrance to Utyiume. Fortunately there were many people coming in from the neighboring farms and villages to attend the market, and he was able to stay within the bustle of people.

Arion realized he was walking hunched over and forced himself upright. Exhaustion was taking its toll on him. The last real sleep he had was in the stable, and that was two days ago. Since then it had been a nightmare of running and hiding as he tried to make his way here. Once he ventured forth on the road but was forced to flee when he saw a small group of soldiers with hounds. They wore Utyiume armor, but there had been a Talayne with them. Perhaps they were just conversing, since it had near the border; or maybe they were searching for him. Regardless, he had slipped unseen back into the woods and continued on his way.

Not knowing what was happening was driving Arion mad. He would have given anything to know what Simeon was planning. From the beginning he had been trying to conceal his location magically. That hadn't stopped Simeon from finding him, though. It was all but impossible to hide from that man. He simply knew Arion too well. Even with the backlash of energy caused by the destruction of his image, Simeon should have found him again by this point. Why hadn't he?

Even if for some reason Simeon or the others in the Order could not find him with magic, at least for the moment, they would have still sent forth bounty hunters. These men would have gone straight to the forest and that little tavern. From there they would spread out, trying to block all passage to the city. But Arion made it here anyway. Perhaps his staying within that damnable wood had enabled him to stay out of their sight, or maybe he was too far ahead for any hunters to catch up to him. The Order was powerful, but it could not use its magic to travel faster than normal. And their fear that someone would learn the truth about them was so great that they would use only a few trusted men. Arion smiled. The same fear that made them pursue him was hindering them. The irony of it somehow pleased him.

This city, though, did not appear to reflect his apprehension. Now that he was walking the streets, it was clear to Arion that there was no panic or signs of war. There might still be time. Utyiume was only a city-state controlling a small amount of territory, but it was wealthy and had a large population. It could put up a good fight if it was prepared, and the other nations would come to its aid.

Arion felt a tinge of guilt at his actions. An attack on Utyiume would certainly bring the other lands against the Talayne Empire, but his people would survive. The other realms had allowed their armies to deteriorate during the long period of peace that had engulfed this portion of the continent. The Talayne, in their unreasoning paranoia, had continued to train and build. Fortresses protected every pass leading into the mountain country. The counter assaults would be bloody, but it would be all but impossible to breach the empire's defenses; at least in the short term.

A thought came to Arion. The emperor might be planning on rebuilding the Talayne Empire with the conquest of Utyiume being only the first strike. As a center of commerce and trade, Utyiume was a great prize, but instead of simply taking its wealth as war loot, it could be used to finance further campaigns. No, the wealth was secondary. It was the trade that interested Talayne. The empire was on a peninsula with most of the large cities a good distance from the primary trade routes. Utyiume, however, sat on one of the busiest trade routes in this region. Control of it would allow the empire to redirect commerce toward the interior where it was lacking.

The dreadful possibilities and the stress of his burden were threatening to destroy him. Arion reached the center of the city in a daze. He was not even aware of where he was until he looked up and saw the king's palace. His mind kept slipping in and out of thought. This frightened him. He was a mage. He was supposed to have control over his emotions. Was he going insane? Did Simeon do something to him to alter his mind?

Arion pushed aside this and all other thoughts. He had to get to the king of Utyiume now. The monarch would know what to do. He would be able to hold back the Talayne. If Arion's people failed or faced too much resistance in the beginning, they would stop and pull back. The other nations would be alerted, and they would prepare. The balance would be restored, and there would be no war. Life would be tense and dangerous, but that was preferable to the alternative.

"Arion."

He jumped at the sound of his name and quickly turned around, but there was no one near him. Had Simeon finally come back? He closed his eyes and put his hands against this forehead. He hoped it was not his old teacher. He wanted this to end.

Something grabbed his shoulder, and Arion spun drawing his dagger. It was a man cloaked in dark robes. Without hesitation, Arion plunged his weapon into the man's chest. Brown eyes widened with shock. The man looked down at the dagger in his chest, then let out a small gurgle and crumpled to the ground.

Arion let out a gasp: it was just a beggar! There were no dark robes, just worn rags and strips of cloth bound about the man’s feet in lieu of shoes. How had he mistaken this person for mage, for an enemy? In his fear, he had struck an innocent. The man was probably trying to help him. The gods knew he looked as if he needed help. Had he now damned himself in his efforts to stop a war? Arion blinked back his tears.

The beggar lifted a gnarled hand toward him. Arion gripped it tightly. The blood was spurting forth so fast. There was so much of it. The man was dying. Arion had damaged something important with his strike. How could he have been so careless?

Voices could be heard whispering nearby. People had noticed something was going on, and a few were headed his way. Quickly, Arion pried his fingers from that of the unfortunate man, trying not to look at his eyes—eyes full of pain and fear—and ran down a dark alley. Behind him the whispering turned to shouts. He took every turn he came across, losing himself in the maze of narrow streets. Finally, out of breath, he stopped, bent over, gasping for air.

Certain he was alone and momentarily safe, Arion gathered his wits and held up his dagger. Not bothering to clean the blood from it, he cut a small gash into his left arm. Like all mages, his forearms were a criss-crossed network of scars. Certain emotions and physical reactions were necessary in the shaping of magic, and nothing accomplished this better than physical pain. Cutting oneself had proven to be quickest and most efficient way. There were often problems with apprentices cutting too deep and causing serious injuries, but they soon learned. And magic did allow for minor healing, although this was complicated and time consuming. Arion wished he had been able to spare a day and heal his own injuries, but speed was more important than comfort.

Focusing, he began the spell of invisibility that would allow him to get close to the king. No one yet had the ability to become truly invisible. But a strong mage could cast a spell that affected the minds of others. It made the spell caster seem inconsequential to anyone who gazed upon them. He would be able to walk anywhere and not be stopped. They would simply ignore him.

Finishing the spell, he felt no different, but he knew the magic coursed silently through his blood. Without delay, Arion marched to the palace. There were many guards about, some standing watch, some patrolling the grounds, but all of them ignored him as anticipated. As he passed the iron gates, one suddenly swiveled his head to look at him, and Arion felt panic rise within. What if this man's mind was strong enough to see through his magic? There were not many who were capable of doing so, but they did exist. The guard stared at him for a few seconds, then frowned as he turned his attention elsewhere. With a sigh of relief, Arion entered the palace. He never could have done this in his own land, where the emperor had mages to protect him ... but with no knowledge of magic, the Utyiume lacked any viable defense against it.

The complex was huge, and Arion made his way through many crowded rooms and halls before finding the king in a long audience chamber. He was surrounded by what looked like dignitaries—each wore a different style of clothing, some in silk, others leather. Arion was able to place the nationality of a few by their distinct garb. Several intimidating soldiers stood guard within the room, as well.

Arion had to speak with the king now. He would have preferred to give his information in private, but he could not wait any longer. His mind was reeling. They were watching him. He was certain of this. Soon, they would come for him. He had to give his message. Breaking the spell, he called out to the king. The guards rushed him with drawn swords and began to the usher their monarch to safety. Arion could see the shock in their faces. It seemed to them as if he had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe that would help his case somehow.

"I need to talk to you, sir!" his quivering voiced called. "I have information concerning the survival of Utyiume. Please hear me out."

The king hesitated, then motioned for his men to bring the interloper closer.

"I see no need for you to trouble yourself with this intruder, Your Majesty," said one of the officers. He clearly did not like the idea of his king standing close to a possible threat.

"Well, since you already let him in this far, we might as well hear him out," the monarch said as he glared at the officer.

Arion was brought forward, but stopped well short of the king. His arms were tightly gripped by a pair of large men, and his dagger had been roughly taken from him. None of that mattered. He could finally fulfill his self-imposed quest.

"Well, what is it that you want?" demanded the king. The man was very old, and his voice was like gravel.

"The Talayne Empire is planning an invasion of Utyiume. It will happen soon."

The king laughed, the wrinkles on his face deepening.

"That is your dire warning, that you went through so much trouble to give me? We've been at peace since our respective lands were founded hundreds of years ago, and Utyiume's neutrality has always been honored by the Talayne, even during the dark years when they were conquering everything in sight." He signaled to his guards. "Remove him."

"They have magic!" screamed Arion. "Real magic, not like street magicians or witches. You can't stand before them unless you prepare! Look, how else could I have gotten in here so easily? I can prove it. I can demonstrate."

Arion's eyes suddenly grew wide. A shadow appeared behind the ruler of Utyiume. It shimmered briefly, taking the appearance of Simeon, then of the beggar Arion killed. The corpse smiled and pointed at the hole in its chest where Arion had plunged his blade. Screaming in rage and fear, Arion lurched forward, pulling hard against those holding him. He couldn't let the Order stop him, not now. But he stumbled to his knees. Something was terribly wrong. What had they done to him?

"You must..." began Arion. His voice failed him, and the world seemed to slow. Sleep called for him, and he wanted to accept its tempting offer. Loud voices that moments ago seemed so close abruptly faded away. Then darkness took him.

"What has just happened?" demanded the king. "Well?"

A guard knelt beside Arion and felt his throat.

"He is dead, Your Majesty."

The king stroked his thinning beard and turned to look behind him.

"What do you have to say about all this? Well, speak up!"

The ambassador from the Talayne Empire stepped out of the shadows beside a pillar and shrugged his shoulders.

"I have no idea who this man is. Looking at him, I would suggest he was insane."

"Then tell me, Ambassador Simeon, how did he get in here?"

"Your Majesty, I am not yet familiar with all your customs, but from what I've seen I would guess that he walked in with some petitioners and then slipped into the inner cooridors unseen." He bowed to the king. "I would guess that he was incredibly lucky to get past all your guards."

"What about his magic talk?"

Simeon smiled at the king.

"I am sure I can find someone in the Talayne Empire who is prepared to sell you a potion giving you greater strength or one that will make a beautiful young girl fall in love with you. But that is about the extent of it."

"Gold is all the magic one needs to attract women," chuckled the king.

"Of course," the ambassador replied.

The king suddenly stared at him intently.

"And you know no magic of your own, Talayne?"

"I am a teacher and a scholar first, Your Majesty. The only magic I possess is the ability to pass knowledge on to my students. Would you care to sit, Your Majesty? It has been a tiring day, and this is all quite disturbing."

Simeon gestured to the corpse lying on the floor a few feet away, and the king noted lines of scars running across his forearm.

"Sire?"

The king shook his head and returned to his plush seat. What had just transpired was unpleasant, but business had to be attended to. And it was probably as this new ambassador suggested. His advisors often said he granted the common folk too much access to his person. Perhaps they were right. Either way, there was no threat from the Talayne. They would never invade his land. Treaties guaranteed Utyiume's safety, and where diplomacy failed, gold won out. Utyiume was the Talayne Empire's largest trading partner.

He was quite sure there was no danger to his land.

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