Of Men Made Gods Read online

  Chapter Two

  Magic Is a Trick,...

  LOOKING OUT OF the glassless window at the bustling city of Worack, the man sighed disappointedly. The sun was going to her hiding place behind the hills that were part of the border between the mountainous regions of the north and the rich plains of the horsemen in the south. The night breeze swayed the tops of the trees outside as night began to crawl out of the east.

  He knew he shouldn't be frustrated, but he couldn't help himself. This was the fourth time that he had come into this land that has been all but dead to the outside world for the past six hundred years, and the prince's men always treated him the same way. Accompanied with frightened polite words, they always led him to this grand room with its cleverly made false walls and left quickly so the various scholars of the land could watch him; trying to find some secret knowledge of his being as they made him wait for his audience with their ruler.

  'Be patient,' he told himself for the hundredth time, cursing his impulse to show off his magic that day he met their leader for the first time. He had still done it even as a part of him had known what it would have meant for them to see magic after they had only heard rumors of its existence in distant lands from the merchant mages that called themselves magicians as they came to trade with them.

  'Be patient,' he repeated in his mind, reminding himself that change was a hard thing to accept to most people let alone these men and women who still held the belief that they would soar to the great heights from whence they had fallen in a time that is distant enough to now be called legend. They didn't even call Erydon-- where the king and the kingmaker lived--their capital city though it unmistakably was in all but name; instead they had never taken that title from their lost city Idur, shaping their hopes into words as they held on to their faith that they would one day return to it.

  Still holding to their hope that they would re-join the outside world when the time comes, the men and women of this land foolishly did not think of the extent to which the world had changed without them. They never saw the Outside with the fear it deserved, these people that had once been rulers of most of the world before the Veil formed to cut off their link to the Outside and the more precious link to the ability that let them practice the sacred arts of magic.

  He loved them and their simple ways, knowing the love of a man like him was no small thing for any people even in the Outside. And it was because of this love that he had come to them. The world was changing. He had felt it as a small tremor in the waters of time itself where no mere mortals could trade without shredding their sanity. He already knew he could not stop that change, or, if he was being honest with himself, he feared of what would come if he did stop that change. The only thing he could think of to do was prepare, just as his ancestors had done countless times in the history of man when they had accepted the inevitable.

  He heaved a loud sigh again, once more marveling at how most of the houses below were built in wood. He had idiotically expected to see breath-taking incarnations of stone when he had come for the first time to Mierthur, never imagining the legendary birthplace of the stonemen--magicians who crafted wonders with stone--would have the least stone structures in the whole world. Misconceptions plagued the history of the human race like nothing else, and he knew this more than most people. He had even proven it when he had first practiced magic in this place that was said to hold the death of that art.

  But it was not only their building material that had changed in this land where it took effort even for him to feel the thrumming of life around himself. The people had changed too, growing in remarkable ways as they lived in a prison the size of a country. He had only caught this change on his second visit to this place when he felt an old woman struggling with her last breath as she died in a small village on the outskirts of this city. He had sensed her stumbling as she tried to form a spell that would give her last life force to the woman next to her; a spell that he knew was only practiced to this extent by the highest magicians of the most powerful nations outside this land, the Darhinnim spell.

  As he sat on his horse on the road to Worack, and before the shock of realization had subsided, he had also felt that old woman die, but he had at least finished the work she had started by saving the other woman he had felt beside her. With his mind lost in thoughts of what it could all mean, he had ridden hard to the small village to find the home of that old woman. Though when he had found the place, it had only been disappointment that had greeted him as he learned she had no living relatives. But he really didn't lose hope until he returned that night to the prince's castle inside the city, having found only a shadow of the magic he had felt inside that old woman as he searched all the villages around the city; an amount that could never be enough for what he had hoped to do.

  Tired as much as a man like him could possibly be, he had stumbled into the room they had given him to spend a night in. He never really needed to sleep, but he always tried to do things as he used to once, a long past time when his heart had died with the passage of time just like any normal man's. Yet, on the verge of a sleep he was willing himself into, he had felt a sudden whim to search the castle for what he now knew to look for. And so, with his eyes half closed, he had sent his magic, hoping to find someone with a little more potential than the ones in the villages. But what he had found had been beyond his hopes. The sudden flare of magic he had felt had made him jump up from the bed in excitement. It hadn't been only potential but the practice of magic that he had felt. He had felt magic itself being used steadily right there in the castle, though it had been small enough that it would have escaped his attention if he hadn't deliberately searched for it. He hadn't known it then, but it was to be his only find that night.

  A graywalker. He couldn't believe his luck at first, couldn't believe he had found a magician that was rare even in the Outside magical lands. A magician who would have been treasured as a Wanderer or hunted down as a dangerous thing depending on which religion she was born to in the cold eastern empire of Kievan.

  Still smiling as he remembered the memory, the man turned to meet the prince as he sensed the people inside the walls move as they received the news of his coming. A moment later, the door to the room was opened by a servant who stood aside as five men entered before going out again while closing the door.

  The men were all bearded, and they all had the long hair that made their status as warriors unmistakable. Two of them, clearly guards from their movements and openly hidden weapons, retreated to either side of the walls between the lone man near the window and the prince who stood in the middle of the room. The last guard retreated to stand near the door.

  The beardless man tried not to let his smile widen as he watched, with undimmed amusement, the fierce looks the guards gave him. He knew they didn't know how to react to him, and that their unafraid gaze was their attempt to show the nonexistence of any fear; not knowing it was exactly the opposite that those looks portrayed.

  The prince was a tall man who looked out of place standing among his men as only he exuded a sense of dignity more than brute force. His hair was blond while his eyes, separated by a wide brow below which a long crooked nose pointed downwards, were a cool grey color that shined like liquid silver whenever the light touched it. "Wizard," he said, inclining his head in a rare show of respect he gave to few people alone.

  "Majesty," said the man near the window, not correcting the wrong title the prince had given him as he inclined his own head exactly as the man had done.

  For a moment, the prince's gaze stayed on him; and the magician didn't need his powers to know what those silvery eyes saw.

  A man wearing a dark green tunic above and light purple trousers below faced the ruler and his entourage. Both the color and quality of the clothes were rare enough to make it dangerous for any normal man to be wearing them as he travelled alone in this land that had once been the center of this part of the world; a point, he knew from previous delving into the man's mind, not lost on
the royal before him. He was of medium height with wide shoulders, tanned skin, blue eyes, beardless face and long black hair which he wore in the fashion of the warriors of the land; tied loosely at the nape before being braided into a long rope that almost reached his waist.

  "What have you come for this time?" asked the prince, not wasting words as he stood in front of the most dangerous person he had ever met.

  "I've come bearing good news," the man replied, before directing his gaze to the other men in the room. "News that is best known by the fewest number of people."

  The prince stood there silently for a moment, staring at the magician with a look that would have made most people more than a bit discomfited. When he finally spoke, he only said, "Leave us," without taking his eyes off the beardless man as he addressed his own men in the room.

  "Your highness...," started the big man who had been standing near his sovereign all this time, before the prince cut him off.

  "Leave us," the ruler repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "Except you, Rudolf," he added a moment later, making the big man pause amid bowing himself out.

  Once the guards had left the room, the man near the window moved his hands in odd gestures, the jeweled rings that circled his fingers glowing fantastically even in the fading daylight as he did so, before saying, "No one outside these walls can hear or see us anymore." He didn't need to move his hands to do the simple magic, but he knew from enough experience that one can never be too careful. He knew that the less these people knew of his true nature the better it was for everybody.

  Moving to one of the seats in front of the cold fireplace, he sat down; which made the large man frown with consternation at a perceived slight to his prince. But the next words to come out of the man's lips cleared that frown as shock and disbelief fought to replace its place. "I've come with the news of the king's death in Erydon."

  The prince's face showed none of his thoughts as he digested the news, his finally taking a seat being the only indication of his shaken mind. "How did it happen?" he finally said, in a tone of voice that sounded like he was asking about the weather or the thousand other mostly meaningless words people usually fill the silences with.

  The man smiled inwardly, deeply satisfied with his choice, as he looked at the sovereign who now sat in front of him. "He died in his sleep last night," he replied, his normal tone of voice not showing he had omitted to say that the death wasn't caused by natural causes.

  "Last night...?" said the man sitting in front of the magician, showing an emotion for the first time since stepping into the room as confusion clouded his features.

  "I am a magician," said the magus, sounding like he was stating the obvious as he answered the unspoken question. "I've my own ways of traveling."

  "Hmm...," the prince replied noncommittally. He sat there for a second, with the cold fireplace staring back at him, before he said anything more. When he did finally speak, it was with an emotionless tone that he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

  Taking his time, the magician poured a glass of wine from the table beside him as the prince and his man waited for his answer. "Because," he finally started to reply, enjoying the surprisingly rich taste of the wine he had recently swallowed almost as much as the secret he was revealing as he continued, "I want you to be the one who next sits on the Throne of Stones."

  Silence filled the room, as both the other men were stunned speechless. The Throne of Stones even after the fall of the Thurrock dynasty, and the rise of the kingmakers of House Hissmark, was still a powerful enough thing for the princes of Mierthur to fight over; it certainly wasn't a thing given simply by one person's wants.

  "What makes you think I would ever wish to?" said the prince, finally breaking the silence.

  "Let us not lie, your highness," said the man seated before the sovereign, his tone hardening for the first time since the meeting began. "I know all princes in this land wish to wear the silver crown as soon as they see they securely hold their princedom's ruling seat. It's just as the old masters' saying goes, 'The greatest of our virtues and the worst of our sins is wanting nothing less than more.'

  "But I have not come here to make you a puppet, prince, no matter how much you are willing enough to settle for less," said the man, pausing for a moment as the sudden angry sound made by the prince's man interrupted his words. But before Rudolf could reveal his anger with any comprehensible words, the magus continued, "I have come to help you restore the position of the king in Mierthur to its former place and reunite the princedoms again into the one true kingdom of old. I have come to show you how to start the end of the War of Princes."

  As yet another silence, which was as much the result of being spoken to in such a way as the words that were just said, finally started to pass, the sovereign only said, "How can you do such a thing?"

  "I've found that most men wish to have peace," the man began his answer, pausing only to sip his wine before he continued, "the only difference between them being that some of them wish to be the ones that create it. But even among those few that want to be the ones to dictate the terms of peace there are those who can be dissuaded from their wish, for a good enough price, that is. And the princes can all be grouped into these three types, the problem is finding out who fits where. I believe I've solved this problem for I've found who can be persuaded to give up their dreams of wearing the king's crown and who cannot.

  "So, with that knowledge, now all one has to do is find the price for those that can swear their allegiance and pay it. As for the others, if they refuse to bend their knees all one can do is find a more accommodating replacement for them and lighten the load on their necks instead."

  "You make it sound so simple," said the prince, his voice not showing any fear as he heard his fellow rulers being grouped into those to be rewarded and those to be slaughtered. "Let us say we have the power to grant the wishes of some of the princes, though I think you have a rather high opinion of our coffers and our reach, where do you start? When and how do you begin to do a thing like this?"

  "It has already begun," the magician replied, taking a moment to fill his cup again. "I've already sent messengers to those that could be bought and they have come back with the prices. As for the others, I've sent messengers to their heirs or, in some cases, to those who wish to be heirs, and they have sent me a positive reply. Of course fighting a few of the princes is an inevitable thing you'll have to face, but with the backing of the others the fight will always be short and the victory always yours.

  "As for the matter of coins, it is an easy enough thing for a man like me to solve. Do not worry, even though I'm sure Worack is a wealthy enough city I've no false expectations as to its financial status. I know your current strength is a precarious thing you have barely finished building from the ruins the previous prince had left you. In fact, your princedom was one of the things that made me choose you of all the other princes. No, I'll not strain your purse for this endeavor; instead, when I leave today I shall make sure to expand it, with a little magic, to more than a necessary point for the current tasks."

  The prince didn't even pause as he accepted such claims of power, among frank statements of his father's failings which none have ever dared to state to his face before, but rather continued to try and find fault in the plan to make him king, as he asked, "The kingmaker?"

  "Has already agreed to name you king."

  The prince paused here, needing a moment to take in the implications of that one statement. For the kingmaker to have agreed before the usual war for the throne had disgorged a winner who then paid dearly for the privilege of warming the throne of stones was the most incredible thing he had heard so far. Not once, in the more than four hundred years of the position's existence, has a Kingmaker ever done a thing like this. Not for any price. "And what do you wish from me in return for this privilege?" the prince finally asked, at last choosing to accept the man's words as truth.

  "Your life," the magician replied, watching the dark m
irror of the surface of the wine in his cup as if he was looking through a window at an impossible horizon. Silence filled the room once more, as even Rudolf stood behind his prince's chair seemingly having finally lost his ability to be surprised with any of the words that came out of the beardless man's lips, or at least getting better at hiding it. "And your daughter. A time will come when I'll ask for you to sacrifice yourself for your country and you'll do so. As for your daughter, she will be queen after you, the first real queen this land has seen since the fall of the Thurrocks, and to face that time I shall be sending an instructor to teach her the ways of magic. She will be an instrument that'll hold Mierthur together when you are gone. I won’t speak of that time now or the reasons for your sacrifice. I'll only say it’s still a long way away from this moment. So, what is your answer, prince? Do you accept these terms?"

  The sovereign sat thinking, his face still showing no reaction as he took his time making up his mind. When he finally replied, it was in an almost-whisper that he said, "I do."

  "Be sure that is what you have truly decided," said the magician quickly. "Remember that you are trading your life and your only child's destiny for a crown, for once I've invoked the spell that will seal your word you'll never be able to take it back. It alone will rule both your lives however much you try to change them. So, I ask you again, do you accept to take this path that leads to the Throne of Stones?"

  "I do," answered the prince, not wasting a moment for even a thought this time.

  "Good," said the magus, extending one of his arms in front of him, and, as he did so, the rings on his fingers began to glow with a brilliant blue light which soon turned into flame like tendrils that reached past his fingertips as they grew. A second later, the blue tendrils coiled to form a serpent of light that reared its magnificent head in front of the unmoving prince. And then, in a flash, it struck the soon-to-be King on the neck before dissipating; hanging for a split second between the magician's one hand and the monarch's neck before it disappeared like mist in sunlight.

  It happened so quickly that the prince only had enough time to blink, while Rudolf still looked like he was trying to decide if he should do something when the whole thing was suddenly over.

  "I have another question for you," said the beardless man sitting in front of the silver eyed man, his tone not showing that he knew he had done something that would seem frighteningly remarkable to the other men in the room. "Can you trust this man with your life?" he asked, pointing at the person standing behind the sovereign's chair.

  "Yes, I can," answered the prince, with no hesitation marring his voice.

  "Then you'll use him to help you," said the magus, before taking out a ridiculously large bundle of parchments from seemingly out of his left sleeve. He handed the bundle to Rudolf who had stepped up to accept them, while he continued, "These contain a list of the princes' names and their inclinations along with their respective demands. They also have my instructions, follow those carefully and you'll face no great problems." He then got up from his seat and started to put on the dark, red cloak he had left on a chair beside the windows when he first entered the room, saying, "Now, if you could but lead me to your vault I'll waste no time in pouring you riches."

  "I've one more question," said the prince, as he also got up from his chair. "Which one am I?"

  "I don't understand," lied the beardless man, as a slight frown appeared on his brow revealing confusion.

  "You said you have put all the princes in three groups, those that would accept a ruler for the sake of peace alone, those who would sell their allegiance for the right price, and those whose pride, or fear, would never let them bow down to anyone," said the sovereign, standing before his seat with his back straight, his head high and his expression blank as if he was asking a question whose answer he didn't fear. "What I want to know is where you've put me? Which do you think I am?"

  "Ahh...," said the magician, making a sound of understanding as a smile started to widen his already open mouth. Having stared at the regal man for a time as he seemed to consider his reply, it was after a slight pause that the man answered. "You, prince, are a survivor."

  And, his grin widening as he watched the unchanged expression of the future king, the magus at last turned around to head for the door without saying another word.