The Mage's Grave: Mages of Martir Book #1 (15 page)

The Magical Superior placed his hand against the smooth back wall and pushed. He heard the clicking of gears and several locks being undone; the next moment, the wall swung inwards like a door, revealing a dark spiral staircase that went down well out of his sight.

He had walked down this staircase countless times over the years. He was as familiar with each step as he was with the back of his hand. He didn't even need a light to see where he was going because he knew the staircase so well.

Descending the staircase, the Magical Superior made sure to close the door behind him as he entered. Again, he was not concerned that someone would enter his study and follow him, but just to be absolutely certain, he had to close it. It was just habit at this point.

The staircase was now completely black, with no light at all to guide his feet. He relied solely on memory, going down each step carefully, until in just a few minutes he reached the bottom of the stairs, where he found himself standing before a thick, ancient stone door that he had opened as many times as he had walked down these stairs over the years.

The door opened easily enough. He simply knocked on it once and the door swung open, its bottom scraping across the floor. When the door opened completely, the Magical Superior stepped through. And when he stepped through, the lights activated.

Green lights running along the top of the room's walls shone down on the Superior, but they did not show much. The Chamber, as he had always called it, was a tube-shaped room with no decorations, no paintings or windows or anything of interest. The only piece of furniture that existed in the Chamber was a stone podium with a slot that was the exact same shape and size as the base of the Skimif statue he held.

The Magical Superior walked up to the podium and placed the statue in the slot. He stepped back, knowing from experience that divine statues sometimes radiated divine energy that even he couldn't handle.

“O Skimif, God of Martir, Leader of the Gods, and Ruler of All,” said the Magical Superior, bowing his head as he raised his staff above his head. “I, the Magical Superior of North Academy, request an audience with you today. I will understand if you do not wish to speak with me, but the matter that I am contacting you about is urgent and I wish to speak with you about it right away.”

He raised his head, but the Skimif statue looked as normal as always. He didn't sense any magical energy from it, not even so much as one spark. It was as if Skimif was ignoring him, even though he knew that the God of Martir had to be listening.

The divine statues, as they were known, were not just any normal statues. They were tied to whichever god they represented. How that worked, exactly, the Magical Superior didn't know, because he had hired one of the Divine Carvers to carve this one and the Divine Carvers did not reveal their trade secrets to the general public.

Nonetheless, the Magical Superior understood that when the statue was placed in the podium, the god it was based on could hear him no matter where he or she was at the time. That did not mean the god or goddess in question would actually answer his summons, but they knew he was summoning them, at least.

The Magical Superior tried not to feel too disappointed. He hadn't expected Skimif to listen to him. Skimif, as the God of Martir, had more responsibility than any of the other gods combined. He not only maintained Martir itself, but also had to keep an eye on the gods to make sure none of them were up to anything they shouldn't be. The gods had a bad habit of doing things they shouldn't, things that usually caused a lot of trouble and danger for everyone involved.

That was exactly why the Magical Superior had tried to contact him. Skimif, more than any other god, would know who the 'Master' of those two katabans was. He might even know why this 'Master' had even sent those two here in the first place.

Yet the longer the Magical Superior stood there, the more time passed in which Skimif didn't appear. He began to wonder if waiting for Skimif was a fool's errand when the lives of his students and faculty were still at risk.

Just as the Magical Superior was about to take the Skimif statue and leave, he sensed a powerful magical presence—far above his own—flood the room like water from a bursting dam. He shivered with anticipation, watching as a light on the other side of the Chamber appeared from nowhere.

The glow grew brighter and brighter, becoming so bright that the Magical Superior was forced to cover his eyes to avoid injuring them. Soon the bright glow had enveloped the entire Chamber, causing the Magical Superior to close his thin eyelids completely.

Then a familiar, yet somewhat detached, voice spoke from within the light. “Hello, Magical Superior of North Academy. How are you today?”

As the voice spoke, the light rapidly faded until the Magical Superior could tell through his eyelids that the light was gone. He opened his eyes and looked over the statue of Skimif to see the newcomer.

Standing on the other side of the Skimif statue was a being who resembled the statue almost exactly. A cursory glance showed that Skimif resembled an aquarian, as he had indeed been during his past life. He had the head of a hammerhead shark and the skin of a fish that glistened in the green lights running along the top of the Chamber.

But a more thorough observation showed that Skimif was no mere aquarian. His muscles were thicker and bigger than any aquarian's, he wore white robes that were as bright as the sun's rays reflecting off the snow of the Great Berg, and he carried a scepter in his right hand that was pure gold from top to bottom. He even smelled divine, a scent which reminded the Magical Superior of roses mixed with cream.

Although the Magical Superior had met many gods over his lifetime, none of them were quite like Skimif. The God of Martir radiated a power and authority that put him a step above the other gods, and this in spite of the fact that he had only been the God of Martir for thirty years. The Magical Superior had often speculated how strong Skimif would be in a hundred years or a thousand years, although he knew he would not live long enough to see that.

“I am not doing well, Lord Skimif,” said the Magical Superior. “And neither is my school or the visitors from the Undersea Institute. You are aware of what has recently been happening here, haven't you?”

Skimif nodded. “How can I not be? And please, simply call me 'Skimif.' 'Lord' is too formal.”

The Magical Superior felt uncomfortable with that request, but he had made it a personal policy to follow the gods' request and commands, so he decided to go along with it. “So you understand what I have been through over the last couple of hours.”

“Of course,” said Skimif. “The gods have always paid special attention to North Academy, and I am no exception to that rule. I am quite aware of most of what has happened here.”

“Then you know that it is one of the gods who is behind it,” said the Magical Superior. “I don't know which god, but we have captured two katabans servants who have confirmed that they are serving a god.”

Skimif folded his arms across his chest. His face was a difficult read, even for the Magical Superior, who had many years of experience deciphering unusual godly facial expressions, many of whom did not have normal human or even aquarian faces.

“That is the problem, Magical Superior,” said Skimif. “Although I have been keeping careful track of the situation, I don't know which of the many, many gods are behind this.”

The Magical Superior leaned forward slightly; always a dangerous move in his old age, as he never knew when he would simply topple forward. “But you are the God of Martir. There is nothing in this world that happens without your notice.”

Skimif sighed. “In comparison to some gods, I am still quite new and still figuring out the full extent of my abilities. My omniscience, for example, is imperfect. I can only really know what is going on in any one particular location at any one time. I can't focus on everywhere at once. Believe me, I tried, and it almost drove me insane.”

“Do you have any theories about this 'Master's' identity?” said the Magical Superior. “Could it be Hollech? This seems like his doing.”

“No,” said Skimif. “I banished Hollech beyond the Void years ago. He hasn't been seen since. And he couldn't return, anyway, because I sealed the Void from his side to prevent him from coming back.”

“Oh,” said the Magical Superior. “But how can you not know which god it is? Haven't you been searching?”

“I have,” said Skimif. “But it's not easy. Aside from the fact that there are hundreds of gods in both the Northern and Southern Pantheons—many of which are still unhappy with my rule—there's been some presence obstructing my own senses.”

“A presence?” the Magical Superior said. “What do you mean by that?”

Skimif unfolded his arms. “Ever since the end of the Katabans War, I have noticed a powerful presence emerging deep from underneath the surface of Martir. At first, I dismissed it as nothing more than the collective magical energy of the gods collecting in Martir's core. That happens sometimes because the gods produce so much magical energy that not all of it is used by you mages and so it will usually end up collecting somewhere until it is used up.”

That was the first time the Magical Superior had ever heard about something like that before. That made him wonder just how much the other gods had hid from him over the years.

Another reason I like talking to Skimif,
the Magical Superior thought.
Unlike the others, he has no great distrust of mortals like myself, so he feels freer to mention things like that to me.

“But that energy is usually discovered and used up by a mage or group of mages at some point,” said Skimif. “Often quickly. I am sure you are aware of those mages known in history as the arcanians?”

The Magical Superior nodded. “You mean the most powerful mages in Martirian history.”

“Yes,” said Skimif. “They got that way by stumbling upon these energy wells, as I tend to call them, and using their power to boost their own. It is an effective way for a mortal mage to push past his own limits and become stronger, although it is always temporary.”

“Very interesting,” said the Magical Superior. “But it is irrelevant to the discussion. Tell me more about this presence.”

“It's hard to tell you anything about it because sometimes I am not even sure it's real,” said Skimif, glancing at the floor. “Like I said, I first noticed it after the end of the Katabans War, although I have a feeling that it is much older than that. In times of crisis it is more noticeable, but every time I try to focus on it, it goes away and becomes impossible to find again. It acts like a real, living being, but I don't know what it is or where it came from.”

“That is disturbing indeed,” said the Magical Superior. “Is it friendly or unfriendly?”

“I have no idea,” said Skimif. “As I said, every time I try to focus on it, it will draw into itself. I have spoken with some of the older gods about it—Nimiko and the Mechanical Goddess, among others—and even they have no idea what it is. They've promised to keep an eye open for it, but I doubt they'll be able to find it.”

“I don't understand what this presence has to do with our current situation,” said the Magical Superior. “Do you think it has something to do with this 'Master' fellow that the two katabans mentioned?”

“I think this presence is hiding him from me,” said Skimif. “I don't know why, but I usually feel this presence at its strongest whenever I search for the identity of the one known as 'Master.' I suspect that the presence is either an ally or a manipulator of this god, whoever he is, but why, I don't know.”

“This is all far too disturbing for my tastes,” said the Magical Superior. “I don't like it.”

“Neither do I,” said Skimif. “It's disturbed me so much that I've even tried to talk to the Mysterious One about this and see what he knows. But he seems to have vanished from Martir; at least, none of the other gods have been able to tell me where he might be and Bleak Rock is practically a ghost island at this point.”

That was another interesting revelation. The Mysterious One was one of the few gods that the Magical Superior did not have a divine statue of, for the simple fact that no one knew what he looked like or, for that matter, if he even existed. Legend said that the Mysterious One was the God of Mystery and Magic, but up until now the Magical Superior hadn't even believed that he was real.

“What's even worse is that this presence is powerful,” said Skimif. “I only get occasional glimpses of its might every now and then, but I can tell that it is at least on my power level. It might be able to beat me in a fight if it wanted.”

“Forgive me for my impudence, Skimif, but that is ridiculous,” said the Magical Superior. “There is no one in Martir who even comes close to your might. The Powers made you the strongest being in the world, didn't they? Not even the other gods can match your might.”

“I thought so, too, but apparently there exists someone who can match my power here,” said Skimif, his voice troubled. “I don't know who he or she is, but if you want my theory, I think this presence is far older than Martir, maybe even older than the Powers themselves.”

The Magical Superior had a hard time wrapping his head around that. Years ago, after Prince Malock and Skimif had succeed in convincing the Powers to spare Martir after their disappointment with its development, the Magical Superior had conducted a brief interview with Prince Malock to find out more about the Powers.

Malock had told the Magical Superior that the Powers had revealed to him that a world had existed before Martir, but that it had been in complete ruin when the Powers arrived. The Powers had then used the remains of that world to create Martir, according to Malock, which meant that Martir was literally built on the ruins of another world.

It was that thought that prompted the Magical Superior to ask, “Do you think it could be something left over from the world that existed before Martir?”

“I don't know,” said Skimif. “I have been investigating the Old Ruins and—”

“The what?” said the Magical Superior. He immediately put a hand over his mouth when he saw Skimif's startled expression. “Oh, forgive me, Skimif, for interrupting you. I just had to ask that question, but if you do not want to answer it that is fine.”