The Mage Hunter - Chapter 2

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The Castrum was a fortress built during the War of the Black Arts when mage and non-mage had unleashed total war upon one another. Osterkand, home of the Mage Hunters, builders of the Castrum, emerged victorious after a final battle in the keep's shadow. The walls were over one hundred foot tall and impenetrable to sorcery, the steel of the portcullises infused with ankacite to make them immune to magic's influence, the location was atop an ankacite mine so the ground itself was a hazard to any and all mages. In their hubris the mage high command located in the city of Coradel believed themselves able to conquer the Castrum regardless. They were wrong.

The walls had stood for over a thousand years, impervious to weather or magic of which only weather was now common to the fortress. Cassida Rane and Athena stood upon the first drawbridge, the moat as wide as the walls were tall, waiting for the second drawbridge to be lowered. He peered over the rope fence to see the carp and trout dashing through the algae ridden water below. Fanciful images of that final battle bubbled in his mind, how the mages had thrown themselves at the walls with all manner of arcane tricks far more devastating than anything he'd ever seen in his life; worse than anything any hunter had witnessed for centuries. There was a groan of steel as the second drawbridge began to shudder downwards. Part of him regretted he had born too late to fight in that war, to fight real sorcerers, the rest of him, the majority of him, was thankful he had only the dregs of their kind to contend with. The history books spoke of wizards who could summon storms, control the seas, or create golems from nothing but mud. Some of the Castrum thought these claims exaggerations or total fabrications designed to enlarge the standing of the Mage Hunters but such critiques were said only amongst friends in hushed whispers after too many cups of wine. Whether those tales were true or false the general populace believed them and respected the Castrum and its warriors for those great deeds performed by the original Mage Hunters.

The fish darted for the protection and comfort of the dark impenetrable waters as the thud of the drawbridge rippled through the moat. The portcullis had already been raised and a lone figure stood in the gateway.

Cassida Rane smiled, 'Master, it has been some time.' His master's beard was a long trail of white with only a hint of the black it had once been down the sides and he was more stooped than Cassida Rane remembered.

'It has,' Ascalon called, stamping his gnarled cane. 'But you never come home anymore, and I rarely leave, so I'd say the fault lies with you, not I.’

'You're quite right, I do neglect this place,' Cassida Rane strode across the drawbridge.

'This place he says, as if it is like any other,' Ascalon laughed as he spoke.

Cassida Rane reached for his old master's arm in a warrior's grip. The pair laughed and embraced, 'You know how it is out there.'

'All too well,' Ascalon turned his attention to the woman beside Cassida Rane. 'Your apprentice I take it?'

'Athena, this is my master, Ascalon.'

'He says that but there isn't anything I can teach him any longer, at least not in the field. There is a wealth he could learn from in here though, if he ever deigned to stay more than a day, I hope you do not acquire that particular trait in your learning from Cassida,' Ascalon raised one of his long white eyebrows.

Athena swallowed and urr'd.

'He's taunting you,' Cassida Rane assured his apprentice.

'You've picked up the manners of the road, Cassida, how unbecoming.'

'Now he's taunting me,' Cassida Rane grinned. 'To what do I owe the pleasure of your welcoming party?' He could see the Castrum's regular soldiers milling about the gatehouse behind his old master and beyond that there were a gaggle of recent recruits on a tour of their new home, at least if they chose to remain, or were allowed to.

Ascalon leaned in, 'The Grand Master's dead, Vice Master Tiberius has yet to call an election. The Chapter Commanders are debating whether they can remove the Vice Master from office for violations of the Code. An election should be immediate, there's fear of...' Ascalon clipped his sentence and backed away.

A regular appeared behind him, 'Apologies Sirs, we have orders to close the portcullis. Would you please enter the gatehouse proper.' The man had a stare on him that spoke of inexperience, and nervousness at having to request something of a Mage Hunter.

'Of course, my apologies,' Ascalon nodded and led Cassida Rane and Athena into the Castrum. The soldier threw his hand up in a hasty salute. The aged man led them through the gatehouse grounds and through the first door into the North Abbey, from there he hurried to the nearest staircase and practically ran up it. Cassida Rane and Athena had little choice but to follow him, his apprentice had the sense to remain silent. They stopped outside a door halfway up.

Ascalon ruffled through a hundred keys hanging from a large ring on his belt until he found a small key, barely as long as his little finger. It slid into the lock silently. The door creaked open and Ascalon ushered them inside before locking the door behind him. 'You may speak freely in here.' A fire smouldered in the corner fireplace. Thick wool rugs lay edge to edge almost covering the entire floor, each designed with repeating floral patterns of clashing colours. Rocking chairs, stools, leather footstools, armchairs were placed haphazardly about the room, each with a stack of parchments or books to one side. Bushels of dried herbs hung from the walls nearest the fire giving the room the faint musk of rosemary. 'Can I interest you in a spot of tea?' Ascalon set a kettle near the fire and then set another log on the embers. Soon the fire was roaring, and steam rose from the kettle.

Cassida Rane was drawn to the shelves along the inner wall, three arrowslits on the opposite wall offered some light. He peered along a shelf of leather bound tomes with faded ink on the spines unable to make out a whole word on any of them. 'How do you know what you want to read?'

'I know all the books on that shelf,' Ascalon said, flippantly. 'Sugar?'

'Yes, please,' Cassida Rane said.

'No, thank you,' Athena said.

'Please, sit,' Ascalon gestured across his collection of seating places unclear as to where he meant.

Athena chose a slim wooden stool near the fire while Cassida Rane found an armchair beneath a bookcase with bowed shelves, the books stacked on top of one another until there was no space between each shelf. He couldn't make out the titles on the spines of those either. 'Old Orontius perished did he?' Cassida Rane said. He'd had few dealings with the Grand Master but remembered the heart-warming speech he gave when he was inaugurated into the Order proper, though that had been many years prior.

'Yes, quite suddenly, though no one was much surprised given his age. Almost ninety, can you believe it. He served as Grand Master for longer than I've been a member of the Order. Longer than almost any living member in fact. It is like losing a parent, or maybe grandparent would be more apt.’

'Perhaps that is why Tiberius drags his feet?' Athena pondered from her perch. She hugged the mug of tea in both hands, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees.

'A possibility, but distant,' Ascalon blew the steam from his mug and sipped, the steam continued to plume. 'I think he was caught unprepared and is hastily putting his own ducks in a row for a bid at the chair.'

'Or waiting to hear who Osterkand wishes to succeed Orontius,' Cassida Rane posited. Osterkand's ruling council, who ostensibly governed on behalf of her Grand Duke but everyone knew had accrued power to rival the Grand Duke, had chosen some leaders of the Order of Mage Hunters in the past, often with disastrous results.

'Possibly, though I never saw nor heard anything to suggest he was in their pocket,' Ascalon leaned back in his rocking chair, staring up at the wood panelled ceiling, the vanish chipping and pealing and stained soot black above the fireplace. 'He is making a bid for it himself and, if I may be so bold, I think he is going to tilt the scales in his favour.'

Cassida Rane almost leapt out of his chair, 'What? You think Tiberius is going to cheat?' he shouted.

'No need to tell the whole Castrum,' Ascalon scowled. 'Orontius was Vice Master before he was Grand Master, as was Quinto before him, and Faradeth before him. There is recent precedent for it but nothing written in the Code. A new Grand Master has the right to appoint a new Vice Master upon election, Tiberius is unlikely to remain.'

'How come?' Athena said, then sipped her tea.

'He isn't much liked among the Chapter Commanders outside of his loyalist core, the most likely contenders, though according to the Code anyone with the rank of Mage Hunter can be elected.'

'And when was the last time that happened?' Athena said.

‘The one thousand eight hundred and first Year of the Seventh Turning with the election of Lucan Par, inaugurated as Mage Hunter one year before election. He was twenty-seven and although he was an unorthodox choice he is often remembered for doing little of note other than being elected young as a mere Hunter and then dying in battle against a minor mage uprising in eighteen eighteen,' Ascalon lectured.

'Seven hundred years ago?' Athena sat up, eyebrows reaching her hairline.

Ascalon nodded, 'Don't expect it to happen again. Lucan Par was elected because the Chapter Commander's were in a stalemate and he was viewed as someone easy to control. The whole history is on the third shelf down of that second bookcase if you're interested. Fascinating stuff and, fortunately, a situation that hasn't repeated.' It wasn't clear which part of the situation Ascalon was referring to.

Athena, to her credit, went and found the tome, 'May I borrow this?'

'Of course, just make sure to bring it back, there are only two copies in the world and both reside within these walls. The one you hold I wrote out myself from the original which is in the library.'

Athena motioned to ask a question but thought better of it, instead returning to her perch by the fire.

'But you didn't return home for lectures on history,' Ascalon turned to squarely face his old apprentice. 'Something has you stumped, or is your sword in need of a sharpen?'

Cassida Rane finished his tea, setting the empty mug on a precarious stack of books, and reached into his greatcloak. 'These were found hidden in a bed, a dead mage on the floor of the room at the end of a trail of magic that had left a whole house with dry rot.' He tossed the purse of Silver Serpents to his old master.

Ascalon pulled at the strings and reached inside, recognition dawned immediately. He brushed one between his thumb and forefinger, 'Unmistakable. Have you visited the Cartographers' Guild yet?'

'No.'

'Dry rot you say? Particular type of mage, dead though. Your doing?'

'No, the trail split, one led to the dead mage, the other, well... the other mage is alive and escaped,' Cassida Rane shared a look with Athena. He had almost gotten her killed, entrusting too much too soon.

'Pity. What was the corpse like?'

'Withered, dry as the house was.'

Ascalon returned the pouch of Silver Serpents, scrip of the Cartographers' Guild. 'Tell me the whole tale.'

Cassida Rane did so, it was quite a short telling given the speed at which it had all taken place. Athena shrank into her mug when it came to sharing her brush with death.

'The Cartographer's can be lax with record keeping, it benefits them further afield when less honourable people sign up for work. But to use mages, even that's a step too far and as near as Arstar. Something is off. Two mages, both unknown to us until now with the level of power you're describing. Very off,' Ascalon shook his head, his beard rustling with the effort. 'Foul smell to it all. Inquire at the Cartographers' Guild as soon as you are able. Subtlety is your friend with this.'

'I'm aware,' Cassida Rane knew who he had to speak with, it was merely a matter of them having the time.

Cassida Rane and Athena stood at the door of the Cartographers' Guild. The oak door was the height of five men and twelve foot across split down the middle. The panels of wood were carved with reliefs of the surrounding landscape, all the rivers and streams, hills and woods, and at the summit the mountains that defended Osterkand from the northern kingdoms, though the hundreds of miles of rolling hills, farmland, and woods also meant any incursion was detected so swiftly as to make any invasion attempt a wasted effort. The last attempt had been a hundred years ago when a man, calling himself the Yellow Emperor had united the kingdoms and wished to expand his realm further. He failed thanks to a deep winter that hit the mountains unusually hard and a series of battles on the open fields that left his army unable to lay siege to Osterkand. The Yellow Emperor vanished in the mountains on his march home, no body was found, but it is thought he wandered off to be devoured by the blizzards. The northern kingdoms soon returned to their age old tradition of in-fighting.

Athena grasped the dragon's head knocker and slammed it twice more. It was their third attempt at calling for attention.

Cassida Rane was ready to return to the Castrum for dinner as the lock tumbled and the left door creaked open, 'Who calls?' A man, stooped but young, peered out from the crack in the door. He wore the floppy wool hat of a mid-tier cartographer.

'Cassida Rane, Mage Hunter, and his apprentice, Athena.'

'Who are you calling for?'

'Kosalis.'

The young man's eyes widened and he stood a bit straighter as he opened the door fully. 'I see... he arrived back this morning. He will be in his study, head to the end of the Main Hall until you hear him,' the man bade the pair enter and smiled briefly at them both.

Cassida Rane thanked the man and wondered to himself what he meant by “hear him,” from his recollection Kosalis's study was nowhere near the Main Hall.

The hall was one long stone corridor with a vaulted ceiling twice as high as the doors. Huge tapestries hung on either side depicting a multitude of maps of the known world, from the look of it the majority was ocean. Cassida Rane and Athena strode down the hall, their boots clacking on the stone. The cartographer who greeted them had locked the main door and vanished off down a corridor, doubtless hurrying back to his work. When Cassida Rane reached the end of the hallway he heard faint but distinct bellowing, full pelt like a man possessed. All Cassida Rane and Athena had to do was follow his voice until they found a trail of cartographers and guild workers leading to Kosalis's door.

'Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me,' Cassida Rane slid between and round men with rolls of parchment under their arms, maids carrying teapots, bowls of soup, and fresh bed linen. There were three older men in the golden fringed floppy hats that denoted them as Master Cartographers gathered by the door. 'Will he not see you?'

The nearest of the master map makers turned and scowled, 'No. Who are you, why are you here?' he snapped, his beard frizzed.

'Cassida Rane, Mage Hunter, was once apprenticed to Master Kosalis before the Castrum discovered my... other talents.'

The master flinched, 'And whoever was on the door let you in? Who was it, I'll have his hat.'

'Not a clue, now excuse me,' Cassida Rane barged past, though all that meant was he was so close to the door he could smell the must of it. He slammed his closed fist against the door, 'Kosalis, an old apprentice is here to see you.'

'Apprentice! I haven't had an apprentice since that treacherous Rane abandoned me to the glorified adventurers' guild up river,' the hinges of his study door rattled.

'Well I've returned, on Castrum business.'

There was a pause, a clatter of furniture. Something smashed. The lock turned with a soft click and the door swung open, 'Get inside.'

'Master! Master!' shouts from those in the hallway called over.

'Shh!' Kosalis hissed at the others.

Cassida Rane darted inside, dragging Athena by the arm. The door slammed shut behind him, was then locked and a dresser dragged in front of it. A pale blue and cream vase lay on the terracotta floor in pieces.

'Castrum business, very secretive that,' Kosalis spoke like a mouse. His hands worked over each other as he paced back and forth from the fireplace to his drawing desk. There was an in-progress map clamped to the angled surface, a mammoth piece of canvas that hung down the back all the way to the floor, easily seven feet long. 'Spit it out, I haven't got all day!' he was shouting again.

'I found these on a mage's corpse in Arstar,' Cassida Rane showed Kosalis the purse of Silver Serpents.

'A mage? You sure?'

'As certain as I can be. He was dead, these were stuffed inside a mattress, presumably his own.'

Kosalis grabbed a handful of the scrip and scrutinised each one in turn, squinting at both sides, running his nail along the edge, and finally biting them. 'All different years too, going back... at least a decade, maybe longer. What you are suggesting is expressly forbidden, should we be found out we'd be finished. Disbanded. Destroyed. Reduced to ash!' Kosalis yelled again.

Athena winced as she inspected the map being drawn on the desk. It was plain lines and blank space, early stages.

'Back away. New map. New land. Not for prying eyes.'

'Where is it? I see no place names but I recognise that turn in the river.'

'Back away! Hard work that land, hard work. Important for Osterkand, important for Coradel too, if you could believe it.'

Athena stepped back. Cassida Rane thought his old master had shared too much in too few words. 'The scrip, Master Kosalis.'

'Scrip... yes... paying mages to do what exactly? I've never seen someone horde so much of the stuff. Worthless really. What's it all for. Not like we're mercenaries, or pay interest, or reward workers for loyalty, well not the grunt labour anyway. A mage? Really? Why would a mage want to lug a cartographer's equipment around, drive carriages, survey dangerous regions for fiends and bandits... doesn't make sense. Doesn't make sense.'

'He was working out of Arstar, or so I can make out. Who has the Guild hired there?'

'How would I know! I've been out, out, out beyond the edges of the known world for a year and what do I get as my reward. Sycophants at my door. Busybodies. Offers of soup, soup! As if that's not what I've eaten every night for six months. And now you! At least you offered intrigue, excitement.'

'Grand Master Orontius is dead.'

'Who's the new one?'

'Election has yet to be called.'

Kosalis raised an eyebrow, pausing his pacing, 'Intrigue on intrigue, connected?'

'Unlikely.'

The Master Cartographer resumed his pacing. 'Inquiries will be made, this is a lot of scrip, they'll be records. A name would help or... a likeness.'

'Can't do either, killed by magic, reduced to a withered husk.'

'Brutal business,' Kosalis shook his head as if he'd seen the corpse himself. 'Terrible way to go. Which reminds me, you should go. Take this back, I don't need it. Get yourself something nice with it,' he shoved the purse back into Cassida Rane's hands and began waving his arms out wide like a goose to usher them towards the door. He dragged the drawer away, unlocked the door, and peered outside. The hallway erupted with people calling Kosalis's name or title. He grunted and said, 'Come in.' One of the three masters shuffled inside, squeezing between the door as he closed it. 'We need information on payments to a man in Arstar.'

'Excuse me?' the thin old master with jowls hanging like curtains.

'Ledgers. Payments of scrip, you're familiar with them?'

'Of course, Kosalis. Why does that concerning you?'

'Not me, him,' Kosalis pointed to Cassida Rane.

'He's not of our guild, I have no reason to share such information.'

'Show him,' Kosalis was pacing again, throwing his voice like a hammer.

Cassida Rane showed the old master the purse of scrip, 'I want to know who was paid all of this.'

'That's a significant amount of Silver Serpents. Many years worth. Certainly suspicious,' the thin man peered down his nose, his eyes half hooded, to regard the scrip. 'Can't have that much floating around,' he muttered too loudly.

'Will you search your ledgers?' Cassida Rane asked.

'No.'

Kosalis halted, 'What?'

'I don't have to. Only one man has completed enough commissions,' the thin master shook his head, the loose skin wobbling. 'Before I share his information, I will need the ledger for everything but his name, what happened?'

'He was a mage. Killed by another mage, I believe,' Cassida Rane said.

The thin man grimaced, ‘A mage! Horrid business. Bad for the guild.’ He removed his hat and twisted it in his fists, ‘His name is Tremlor Aralius, give me an hour and I'll have every. scrap of information we have on him for you.’

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