The Mage's Limits: Mages of Martir Book #2 (12 page)

“What an insightful quote,” said Gujak.

At that moment, the motor on the boat spluttered, causing the boat to jerk a couple of times before the motor died completely. The boat continued to float forward from the momentum, but it was no longer being propelled through the water like it had been before.

“The motor went out,” said Gujak. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Durima shrugged. “I don't know.”

They lapsed into silence. After all, there was not much else to do but wait and see what happened next.

-

It was maybe half an hour later, although Durima couldn't be sure due to the lack of a sun to tell time by, that she heard the first sound in the Void that was not produced by her, Gujak, or the boat. Ocean waves were lapping against a beach and it sounded like it was coming from directly ahead of them.

“Waves?” said Gujak.

“Sounds like it,” said Durima. “Which means there's a beach. Which means we're about to land somewhere.”

“But where?” said Gujak. “What kind of islands exist in the Void?”

“No idea,” said Durima. “I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

As they drew closer to the beach, the sounds of the waves lapping against the sand became louder and louder. As with Gujak, they were not the loudest sounds in the world, but in the Void, they were like thunderclaps in Durima's ears. Still, she was glad to hear them anyway. It felt like the silence of the Void had been eating away at her sanity and she was unsure just how much of it was left by now.

Then Durima heard someone splashing through the water toward them. Whoever it was moved fast. She squinted to try to see the person, but the darkness of the Void made it impossible to tell just who was coming in after them.

“Is someone out there?” Gujak asked, raising his voice, which was colored with fear. “Who's there?”

The person splashing through the water toward them didn't answer. A moment later, Durima felt the boat under their feet being pulled along by someone very strong. They were moving much faster than the motor had propelled them and in the next minute she heard the boat ground onto some sand underneath.

Before Durima realized it, two strong hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her out of the boat. She landed hard on her back on the sand. A moment later, she heard Gujak land next to her, although unlike her, he was screaming for his life.

“Please don't kill us!” Gujak cried out over the footsteps of the person that were drawing closer to them. “We didn't do anything worthy of being killed! We—”

Gujak choked as he and Durima were lifted up by whoever had pulled them out of the boat. The hand around Durima's neck was as strong as a horse's hoof; in fact, the hand's fingers felt like horse hooves, although that made no sense to Durima whatsoever. And oddly enough, Durima thought she smelled horsehair, although she dismissed that as her imagination going wild in the darkness of the Void.

“Tell me your names,” said the being holding them up. “Now.”

“Gujak,” said Gujak, before Durima could tell him not to tell this obviously hostile being anything about themselves. “And she's Durima. Please let us go.”

“Gujak? Durima?” said the being. “Those are katabans names, aren't they? Yes, they are. I remember. I once hired a katabans named Durima, but that was ages ago. Or was it only yesterday? I don't know.”

“What are you talking about?” said Durima. She wanted to sock this being in the face, but the chains around her arms and legs made that an impossibility at the moment. “I don't know you.”

The being's grip around Durima's neck tightened, causing her to gasp as he said, “Have the katabans of Martir already forgotten about one of their masters? I bet Skimif made you forget, didn't he? Of course he did. That stupid upstart godling, the mistake of the Powers, as I have taken to calling him. Oh, if I still had my powers, why, I'd give him what for.”

“I don't understand,” said Gujak. Based on how weak his voice sounded, the being must have been holding Gujak's neck very tightly. “Who … are … you?”

Without warning, the being dropped both of them. Durima fell on her bottom and began massaging her throat where the being had gripped it. Making sure that she could breathe in the heavy air of the Void, Durima looked up at the being who stood before them, although it was too dark to see his face.

“Who am I?” said the being. “Allow me to show myself.”

A light shone from somewhere near the being's upper body. It was not a very bright light, but having become accustomed to the deep darkness of the Void, Durima had to look away for a moment to avoid hurting her eyes.

“Why are you two looking away?” said the being in an angry voice. “I command you to look at me, you disrespectful rats!”

Durima winced at his harsh voice. Yet she also thought it was familiar, like she had been called a rat by a god before. It had been years ago, when she had been a much younger katabans first starting out as a servant of the gods. She could not recall which god it had been, however, at least until she looked back at the light before her.

Towering above Durima was a being who almost looked like a human, save for his head and face, which were the head and face of a horse. He wore a black coat that was tattered and torn in several places, while his right hand glowed with a bright light. His left eye was completely missing, as if something had clawed it out, though it must have been a while ago because it was dried and covered with flesh.

“You know who I am, or who I was, anyway,” said the being. “I am Hollech, former God of Deception, Horses, and Thieves … and current God of the Void. Welcome to my domain.”

Chapter Eight

I
t was the stench of the prisoners that got Darek the most. He could tell right off the bat that none of them bathed. They smelled like dirt and urine, not exactly an appealing aroma, but he didn't say that out loud because he knew they would kill him if he insulted them even jokingly. The murder in their eyes was plain as day.

Darek had drawn his own wand, but when faced with a dozen or so criminals, he knew he couldn't beat them. Darek may have been an Academy-trained mage, but there were a dozen of these murderers and none of them were likely to play fair.

It's amazing I've survived this long,
Darek thought.
My sudden appearance must have taken them by surprise.

“Who are you?” said one of the prisoners. Darek noticed that this prisoner was missing a few teeth. “Where did you come from? And how did you get here? You a spy from the Northern nations?”

Darek shook his head rapidly. “No, no, no. My name is Darek Takren and I am here to see Jakuuth Grinfborn. I heard about his escape from World's End and I wanted to help him in his goals.”

“Darek Takren?” said the prisoner. “Never heard of ya. Anyone else here heard of Darek Takren?”

The other prisoners shook their heads or said things like 'No' and 'Nah.'

“I'm not very famous or well-known,” Darek admitted. “I just graduated from North Academy, but that doesn't mean I won't work as hard as everyone else to obey Jakuuth's orders.”

“How did you hear about Jakuuth?” said the prisoner with a growl. “We've been very careful about making sure no one outside of Rock Isle even knows he's here.”

Darek bit his lower lip. Why hadn't the Ghostly God given him an excuse to explain that? Had the Ghostly God not considered it, or did he think that Darek could 'wing it' like everything else?

“He's gone quiet,” said another prisoner, a bulkier man who looked like he could uproot a full-grown tree if he wanted to. “Let's kill him and toss his body into the sea.”

“Now hold on a minute there,” said Darek, talking and thinking quickly, “let's not get ahead of ourselves here. You don't even know if I'm a threat or not.”

“Jakuuth gave us orders to kill anyone who showed up on Rock Isle without explanation,” said the first prisoner. “Shoulda killed you the minute we saw you. Jakuuth's gonna be angry.”

“But …” Darek came up with an idea. “Oh, I heard about it from … the gods. Yes, I heard about it from them—from Xocion, specifically, since I am a pagomancer and have spoken with him pretty often.”

That was a blatant lie. While Darek did indeed serve Xocion, he had never had even one conversation with the God of Ice. Xocion may have been a northern god, but that didn't mean he frequently spoke with his followers or servants.

“Xocion?” said the first prisoner with a start. “You mean the gods already know about us?”

“They do,” said Darek. He hated lying, but as the only other alternative was being killed by these prisoners, he decided to stomach it. “But don't worry. They're busy dealing with another threat at the moment. They don't have any time to deal with us.”

“Don't go including yourself in that 'us,' stranger,” the first prisoner snapped. “I don't recollect us letting you join the Limitless Army. You're trying to sneak past us.”

“Sneak past you?” said Darek, putting one hand on his chest. “I swear to the gods that I would never try to sneak past you. It was a slip of the tongue, that's all.”

“The gods must have sent him to kill us,” said the second prisoner. “Let's kill him before he succeeds.”

“Actually, you are quite mistaken,” said Darek. “I came here because I wanted to help Jakuuth. I've heard so much about him and what he did during the Katabans War that I just can't help but want to serve him.”

“Jakuuth's crazier than a mad donkey,” said the first prisoner. “Only reason we're serving him is because we can't leave Rock Isle on our own.”

“Hey, Jakuuth's not that crazy,” said the second prisoner. He tapped the side of his head. “He's the Son of Grinf, remember? His ways are above ours, so of course he seems a little weird.”

“Besides, I wouldn't criticize Jakuuth if I were you,” said another prisoner, this one quite a bit smaller than the others, almost the size of a child. “You saw how he annihilated all those guards, didn't you? And the burns he inflicts on anyone who disagrees with him. Those are nasty.”

“Poor Ruxan,” said the second prisoner, shaking his head. “Can he still even see or did Jakuuth melt his eyes shut?”

“Does it matter if Jakuuth is, er, eccentric or not?” said Darek. “I will decide that for myself when I meet him.”

“How are you gonna meet him?” said the first prisoner. He gestured toward a massive stone fortress several hundred yards from the beach. “He's all the way up there in the prison. A stranger like you can't just waltz up there … well, unless you'd like to get captured and raped by the guards, that is, for trespassing.”

“You guys will take me up there,” said Darek, nodding at the prisoners surrounding him. “That way, you can make sure that I'm not up to no good.”

“Jakuuth will be angry that we let someone onto the island without his permission,” said the third prisoner in a trembling voice. He gestured at the rocky beach all around them. “That's why we were out here in the first place, to prevent anyone from sneaking onto Rock Isle. He'll kill us.”

“Not unless I vouch for you guys,” Darek offered. “And trust me, Jakuuth will listen to me. Once he hears my name, I imagine he will reward you guys for bringing me to him.”

“Reward?” said the first prisoner. “Jakuuth doesn't reward anybody. He tells us what to do and we do it unless we'd like to have our eyes melted shut. Just like poor Ruxan.”

“Even so, don't you think Jakuuth would be angry if you killed me and it turned out I was someone important to him?” said Darek. “Just tell him my name. He will know it immediately.”

“How do you already know Jakuuth?” said the first prisoner with suspicious eyes. “He's never mentioned no one by the name of Darek Takren before, at least not to us.”

In truth, Darek did not know what kind of significance that his name might have held to Jakuuth. True, Jakuuth had apparently known Mom in her younger days, but that didn't necessarily mean Darek would get preferential treatment because of it.

Remember what the Ghostly God said,
Darek thought.
I mean, why else would he tell me to tell Jakuuth my name if it didn't guarantee me some protection from his usual treatment of intruders?

Then again, knowing the Ghostly God, this could all be an elaborate ruse just to get him killed. If so, then Darek wondered if he could come back as a ghost and haunt the Ghostly God.

But that was hardly relevant to Darek's current situation. He needed to come up with a valid excuse for why Jakuuth would care about his name. Something that even these prisoners, as skeptical as they were, would not dare to question without risking Jakuuth's wrath.

Then it occurred to Darek. It was a ridiculous lie, one that might not work, but he had to try it anyway. It was his only chance.

“Jakuuth would know that name because I …” Darek didn't want to say the words, but he did anyway, with as much charisma and sincerity as he could muster. “I'm his son.”

The prisoners started in unison. Half of them stepped back, giving Darek a clear escape route if he wanted, while the other half lowered their wands and looked at each other in worry and confusion. At least one grabbed what appeared to be a Jukanian necklace, a common symbol worn by followers of Jukan, the Goddess of Protection, from around his neck and held it closer to his chest, as if he thought it would protect him from whatever he was afraid of happening.

“You're his son?” said the first prisoner in a weak, almost squeaky voice. “No way. You're lying. You don't even look Carnagian.”

“That's because my mother was a Ruwan,” said Darek, gesturing at his skin. “I inherited her skin color, but I can assure you that I am indeed the son of Jakuuth.”

“By Tinkar's clock,” said the second prisoner with a gulp. “If you're really Jakuuth's son, what does that make you? A quarter god?”

“I don't know,” said Darek, shaking his head. “All I know is that I have been separated from my dad for too many years. And if you keep me separated from my dad for no good reason, what do you think Jakuuth will do to you when he finds out?”

That did the trick. By now, all of the prisoners were giving Darek a wide berth. A few of them had even fallen over onto the sand as they backed away. He had scared them good, which both sickened and excited him.