Rogue Magician (The Magician Rebellion) Read Free Page A

the knight-captain.”
    “ Of
course, my king... and thank you.” Sane bowed and left the king's side.
    The
sorcerer hurried to his study where he opened a small black trunk filled with
dozens of round cuts of wood about an inch thick each and small enough to fit
snuggly in the palm of a man's hand. On the front of each one was a unique
symbol carved into it and on the back was carved or painted the name of a city
or place. Sane searched through piles of the wooden pieces flipping them over
and reading the name of each one until he found one that said Baj. He squeezed
it firmly in his fist.
    Reaching
Kellen would be a simple task for the sorcerer. Colum was a day's travel by
horseback, but Sane was not confined to such mundane means of travel. However,
he feared that casting the spell could disrupt the vision that he was trying
dearly to cling on to. His visions were not always clear to begin with and like
most dreams the details tended to fade in time, but using magic hastened the
process and could make him forget the vision completely. Coming only in dream
form they were often laden with symbolism and subconscious messages that would
have to be sorted through for meaning. It was possible that Sane's vision of
his dead friend had a non-literal interpretation, but he was certain that it
was real. He could still see Kellen's body lying beaten and bloody staining his
once bright and shining armor.
    Enough.
There was no other choice. The only way Sane could make it to Colum in time was
through magical means. It would do him no good to know that Kellen faced death
if he could do nothing to prevent it. Forgetting the vision was a risk that he
would have to take.

Chapter
2
     
     
     
     
     
    The
air was cool off the great lake and refreshing against Byrn's face. It was
early spring and it felt good to be basking in the sun. The winter had been a
harsh one this year forcing the young man to stay cooped up much of the time.
There was little need for couriers during the winter meaning there was little
reason for the young man to stretch his legs. Occasionally, there was the odd
job in town passing a message from a trader to a merchant telling him that his
shipment was being held up by the snow and the like, but nothing that allowed
him to venture far from home.
    Byrn
sat under a tree daydreaming of the future, as most young men were apt to do.
This day he dreamed of being a master swordsman jumping into battle and felling
legions of enemies with a swing of his sword like Targan the Berserker in the
Tale of the Undead Isle. Over the last two winters Byrn learned the basics of
swordsmanship as part of his courier apprenticeship and he took to it well
enough, but he possessed no great skill for a boy his age and it was unlikely
that he would develop the stamina or fortitude needed to become the kind of
great warrior that songs were sung about. “Better to learn to ride like the
wind than stand and fight,” his master and adoptive father, Tannys Lightfoot,
had told him when his lessons in swordsmanship began, “You're employer won't
care how many bandits you fought off or how valiantly you died. His only
concern is if you delivered his message swiftly. Likewise in war, a master
courier can make the difference between victory and defeat. We are unsung
heroes, but heroes all the same.”
    His
father would soon have a message that needed delivered, Byrn thought. It would
be a simple matter for an apprentice rider like himself. Running correspondence
from one farm to another or telling one of the local merchants that his order
of mutton would be a few days late. The morning was slipping away and Byrn
pushed thoughts of heroism and bravery from his mind as he mounted his horse
and headed towards Colum.
    His
ride into the city was leisurely. It would be a poor thing to rush needlessly
and risk trampling a passerby in one of the narrower streets that honeycombed
Colum- another lesson from his father. After a few minutes he came to a