Story Excerpt - Pantheon #1

“Something has come through the wards.” Rahn said, voice suddenly cold and dangerous. His eyes were filled with forgotten flames, reminding Haneigh that this man had more power than a kingdom of wizards could ever hope to contain. Haneigh gasped as he felt Rahn’s aura flare, every object in the room suddenly lifeless as the Mastermage of Midgard drew essence into himself in a rush of desperate power. The wood in the tables and chairs, the softly glowing breath of the fibers in the lush carpets, the heat from the fireplace. It felt like standing in a graveyard as the man beside him began to pulse with energy.

“What is it?” Haneigh breathed, almost afraid to speak. He had never seen Rahn like this, and the display of the Mastermage’s abilities was beyond what he had believed possible even for Rahn.

“I don’t know.” There was no emotion in Rahn’s perfect voice, and with an economy of motion he spun back to the table, beginning to pull together pages bof handwritten notes, as well as the note and picture they had been trying so hard to understand. Fingers flying he tied them together and shoved them into Haneigh’s shaking hands. “But I fear it may be confirmation that more is going on here than we can begin to understand. Someone, or something, fears what we have been given, what we are trying to find. Take these to the gate room and meet me there.”

Without another word Rahn was gone, moving out through the doors as the storm winds picked up and swept through in his wake. Haneigh stared after him, fear tightening around his heart. He was frozen, responding to Rahn’s sudden distress with panic building as he tried to make his mind function properly. I’m not ready for this. I can’t do anything to help… Haneigh forced his feet to move across the empty rugs, dragging like ice. As he edged out the door he heard shouts echoing from the far side of the hold, the sounds of booted feet running. Torn between flight and the desire to help, his common sense won out. If the wards had been disturbed alarms would have rung in the small barracks of Rahn’s standing guard, no doubt more prepared to deal with a sudden intrusion than one terrified and under trained apprentice. Hugging the wall Haneigh moved away from the sudden sounds of fighting, legs shaking as he broke into a stumbling run. Who had attacked them? He couldn’t imagine a kingdom in the known world that would dare to mount an attack on the Mastermage’s hold.

Almost dropping the bundle of papers that he held, Haneigh clutched them tighter in numb fingers, bolting for the Gate room at the back of the low complex. Lightning flickered across the night sky, unnatural in it’s brightness as Haneigh cowered against the wall. Finally reaching his destination he threw open the great double doors and stumbled into the darkness of the largest room in the hold. As the doors closed silently behind him blackness engulfed him, lit only by the faint lights that always hovered around the edges of the magic map that allowed Rahn to choose his destinations. Feeling his way along the wall, Haneigh slid down in one corner, shaking as he wrapped his arms around both his precious burden and his knees. The sounds drifting from the rest of the hold were muted and indistinct, but he couldn’t block them out entirely, and as sudden screams echoed into the night he had never felt more alone, even in his childhood on the streets. The blackness was oppressive, the terror of the unknown pressed around him like a shroud. What if Rahn didn’t come? What if the storm lifted on a Hold destroyed, broken? Rahn had not yet taught him to work the mysteries of the Gate, he was trapped here unless he was found first. And who would find him? The unknown attackers filled his mind with images larger than life, faceless nightmares guarded by enchantment, wielding weapons that ran red with the blood of men that had become Haneigh’s friends. Haneigh couldn’t hold back the tears that streaked down his face as he waited in that endless darkness, losing track of time as fear built in the corners of his mind, trapping him in an endless loop of terror.

When the doors finally slammed open he couldn’t hold back a short scream, shaking violently even as he recognized Rahn’s tall form and the light of the room’s magic burst into full brightness. Covering his eyes with an arm he tried to stand, to move, but his body refused to obey his commands. The gentle pressure of a hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he looked tearfully into Rahn’s calm green eyes, trying to find strength there. Blood streaked across his master’s cheek and stained his messy robes, but none of it seemed to be Rahn’s own. For a moment Haneigh was a child again, and with a sob he flung himself into his master’s arms, clinging to him with a rush of relief that left him even weaker than his terror.

“Hush now, you have to listen to me.” Rahn held him for a brief moment before pushing him back, taking Haneigh’s face in strong hands and meeting his eyes. “My little bird, you have to be strong.”

Sniffling, Haneigh tried to nod.

“Do you trust me, Haneigh?”

“W-with my life.” Haneigh choked, knowing it was true. Rahn was his world, the only thing that made sense in the sudden chaos around him.

“Then I need you to trust yourself. I chose you because I believe you can do great things. I have faith in you, Haneigh.”

Haneigh felt the tears begin again, and he wanted to cling to Rahn again, feeling everything slipping away from him an uncontrollable speeds.

“You have to go. Find the man in this picture, somehow is is of vital importance to what is happening in the tradelands now. There is far more going on here than meets the eye, Haneigh. I fear perhaps even the gods will have their role to play before this is done. I am sending you to Meneth, it’s all we have to start with. You have to trust your own judgment.” A sad smile turned up his lips, and panic flooded Haneigh’s remeaining thoughts. “You can do this. I trust you.”

“You have to come with me!” Haneigh hated the desperate wail in his own voice, the weakness that clutched at him.

“I have to stay here. We can hold out, I promise you that.” With a sad smile, Rahn brushed the tears from Haneigh’s cheeks with his thumbs, then took Haneigh’s hands and helped him to his feet. “I’ll be alright. I’ll contact you when I can.”

“I can’t do this! I can’t!”

“You can.” Rahn’s words were simple, and Haneigh suddenly hated the honesty in his Master’s voice. Rahn believed what he was saying, but in his heart Haneigh knew his faith was misplaced.

Stepping back, Rahn moved to the map, it’s glow brightening as he approached. The Gate began to pulse in answer, the magic awakening and filling the room with the gentle music of power. The air was vibrating against Haneigh’s skin, and through blurred eyes he watch the familiar miracle of the the map that scrolled with Rahn’s moving hands. Nothing but magic could explain the perfect imitation of the world’s surface, the detail far more precise than any human could craft, the way it changed over time as though connected directly to the land it depicted. Haneigh had seen villages form as they were built, forests fade as they were cleared. Even Rahn couldn’t explain the map’s power, or how it tied to the Gate, it had been crafted in ages past, perhaps even by the gods themselves.

As the map steadied over it’s destination, Haneigh shook his head. The all-too-familiar city of Meneth came into focus, with it’s spiraling spokes of streets and narrow cobwebs of alleys that lined the sprawling riverfront. In his childhood Meneth had been both home and prison, a nightmare that he had put behind him when Rahn had found him.

Rahn looked up as the Gate’s image finally focused, and found Haneigh’s face. Haneigh watched as Rahn approached him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. The sounds of fighting were closer now, but they were becoming of second importance to the the blooming reality of leaving the place—the person— that had become his home. He braced himself, smiling at Rahn through his tears. “I won’t let you down.” He managed to choke out, praying it would be true.

“I know.” Leaning down, Rahn kissed his forehead and stepped back, an answering sadness in his eyes. “Now go.”

Tearing his eyes away from the loneliness that he saw etching itself in the lines of Rahn’s form, Haneigh stumbled towards the Gate, vision blurring as he took his final step. The prickle of magic burned over his skin, consuming him as his world faded away.