The Mage's Limits: Mages of Martir Book #2 (13 page)

“Oh, oh,” said the first prisoner with a gulp. “Well, then, uh, Mr. Takren, er, son of Jakuuth, we apologize for treating you so harshly. We didn't know that you were his son.”

“Few do,” said Darek as he dusted off his robes, which he didn't really need to do, but which he thought would make him look more imposing and no-nonsense. “Now, are you going to take me to my dad or not?”

-

Being escorted by a dozen smelly, frightened prisoners did little to lighten Darek's nerves, but he put on a show of confidence anyway so as to dispel any remaining doubts they might have had about his parentage. He felt almost like royalty, the way the prisoners treated him. They kept their eyes away from him, as if they thought that by looking at him in the wrong way, they would anger him or somehow get in trouble with Jakuuth. One prisoner even took off his shirt and laid it across a mud puddle in their path, which Darek walked over in order to keep up appearances.

The ground was rocky and uneven, even despite the rough path that had been created by the prisoners. Darek's shoes were made of a soft leather, which had not been designed to walk across the pokey, rocky path. As a result, Darek's feet quickly became sore, although he pretended not to feel it because he didn't want to show the prisoners any weakness.

The closer they drew to the prison, the better Darek saw it. It was a massive stone fortress, easily twice as large as the Arcanium, shaped somewhat like a stone block combined with a castle. Huge stone walls towered above Darek, perhaps a hundred feet tall and half as thick. On the tops of the walls, Darek saw people, probably other prisoners, patrolling the area, although they were too high up for him to make out any specific details about them. He did notice that they wore the same black armor that Rock Isle guards were said to wear, although if what the Ghostly God said was true, that was merely a ruse to prevent visitors from suspecting that anything was out of the ordinary.

At the base of the walls were two wide, thick iron gates that were apparently the only way in and out of the prison, at least on this side of the building. Above the gates was carved an image of a woman with a ball and chain around her neck, wearing a shabby-looking prisoner's outfit that clearly identified her as Hona, the Goddess of Prisons and Prisoners. Hona was not a well-known goddess, but Darek knew who she was because he had once read that she established the first prison at the beginning of time to help humans keep their criminals from harming their communities.

I wonder if Hona knows that one of her prisons is now being used as a training ground for an army of prisoners,
Darek thought.
Then again, she's probably too busy helping the other gods look for Uron to do anything about it.

When Darek and his strange escort arrived at the gates, they were met by four gatekeepers. Like the rest of the 'guards,' they were merely prisoners impersonating guards, and not very well, either, as their black armor appeared to be ill-fitting and strapped on incorrectly, though Darek didn't mention it.

“Halt,” said one of the 'guards,' causing Darek and his escort to stop. He gestured at the prisoners surrounding Darek. “I know you guys, but who's the new guy? Never seen him before. New prisoner from one of the prison ships?”

The first prisoner, the one missing teeth, stepped forward and said, “Of course not. Don't you see who he is? Look at his face. Who does he remind you of?”

The lead gatekeeper frowned, but looked more closely at Darek's face. This made Darek uncomfortable, as he didn't trust the gatekeeper's sword (which, based on the dried blood on its blade, had probably been used fairly recently), but he kept up his appearance of confidence anyway. He didn't know if this was how Jakuuth usually looked, but considering that Jakuuth thought of himself as the Son of Grinf, he figured it was a good guess.

Then the lead gatekeeper shook his head. “Nope. That guy doesn't look like anyone I've ever seen before. Looks like he'd make great target practice, though.”

The first prisoner waved his wand and the lead gatekeeper flew back into the gates suddenly. He hit the gates with a resounding
clang
of metal on metal and then fell to the ground. He did not get up, though he appeared to be simply stunned by the impact rather than dead.

“You idiot,” the first prisoner said. He gestured at Darek. “You see this man? He's Darek Takren, the son of Jakuuth Grinfborn. Do you understand what that makes him? It makes him a quarter god, that's what it makes him.”

“No way,” said another gatekeeper. “I didn't know Jakuuth had a son.”

“Well, now you do,” said the first prisoner with a huff. “And he wants to see his father. So you'd better let us inside or I will let Jakuuth know just who tried to keep his one and only son from seeing him for the first time in years.”

The remaining gatekeepers who hadn't been knocked unconscious immediately went to work opening the gates. They moved their unconscious friend out of the way and then began turning a huge wheel that slowly lifted the gates up. Darek was amazed at how efficient they were. He had thought that the prisoners of Rock Isle would be too undisciplined to be any good, but they opened that gate as if their lives depended on it.

Then again, the threat in that prisoner's words wasn't exactly subtle,
Darek thought, glancing at the first prisoner, who seemed satisfied that he had scared some of his comrades straight.

Once the gate was open, Darek and his escorts passed underneath it. As they did so, Darek was aware that the remaining gatekeepers eyed Darek with fear and worry, as if they thought Darek would report their obstinacy to Jakuuth. Of course Darek wouldn't, seeing as he did not want to get them punished for a lie, but as long as it kept them from thinking about his own lie, he thought it good to let them think that for now.

They passed through the gate into a narrow, dark tunnel with a low ceiling. The tunnel sloped upwards, and with no steps for them to walk on, it was a much harder climb than it should have been. It didn't help that there was absolutely no light at all in the tunnel, as though whoever had designed it had decided that light was unnecessary. The only light was at the end of the passageway, through which the daylight streamed in.

The tunnel wasn't very long, for which Darek was thankful. Aside from the filthy scents that his escort gave off, Darek also picked up a strong blood smell in the tunnel itself. It smelled like someone had painted the walls, ceiling, and floor with blood, although it was too dark to know for sure if there was any truth to that thought.

As they drew closer to the exit, the sounds of what might have been battle entered Darek's ears. He heard people yelling, blasts of fire and water and steam, and the occasional very loud curse. Above the din was the voice of someone who might have been shouting orders, but the noises were so confused that it was impossible to tell for sure where one ended and another began. A loud
boom
actually caused the tunnel to shudder and shake, though no one on Darek's escort seemed to notice.

Because Darek was in no mood to walk into the middle of a prison yard brawl (which was what it sounded like out there), he asked the first prisoner, “What is all of that racket?”

“Training,” said the first prisoner promptly, though without looking at Darek. “Jakuuth demands ten hours of training per day. It is excruciating work. Very glad I got patrol duty today. It's boring, but not as hard.”

Training, huh?
Darek thought.
Makes sense. Jakuuth is raising an army here, after all. Then again, I wonder how you even train a bunch of the world's worst criminals to become an effective, unified army.

Darek soon found out the answer to that question when he and his escort reached the tunnel's exit and stepped out into the light. Darek's eyes rapidly adjusted from the darkness of the tunnel to the light of the day. He fully expected to see the prisoners slaughtering each other while Jakuuth tried to organize them into some kind of coherent order.

But much to his surprise, what he saw down below in the prison yard was anything but an undisciplined mob of prisoners who couldn't stand each other. There were about three hundred in all from what Darek could see, each prisoner paired with a partner. The two partners faced each other like enemies in a battle, but rather than trying to kill each other, it looked like they were training together.

He saw one prisoner, a tall, lanky woman, try to shoot a fire bolt at her partner, a short, stout man. The man ducked to avoid the fire bolt, but rather than attack back, he gave her a thumbs up, as if she had finally gotten the hang of something that she had been working on for a while. The smile on that female prisoner's face was obvious even from Darek's position above the prison yard.

Another pair, two Nikons, if their red hair was any indication, were not fighting at all, but rather sitting next to each other and drawing pictures in the dirt. No, not pictures, but maps and strategies, like they were planning to invade the Northern Isles. Considering how much they kept erasing each other's drawings and shaking their heads, they clearly disagreed with each other a lot, but their disagreement was more nonviolent than you'd think.

Not far from the arguing Nikons was yet another pair of people, Ruwans based on their pale skin and dark hair. They were practicing sword fighting, although when Darek saw their swords literally glowing with energy, he knew it was no normal sword fighting he saw. The Ruwans were practicing a type of swordplay called 'makhaimancy,' which involved a mage channeling pure magical energy through a sword specially designed to contain it.

And they're doing it remarkably well,
Darek thought, watching as they parried each other's blows.
Makhaimancy is supposed to be one of the most difficult forms of combat magic a mage can learn, yet these two are practicing it as easily as if they have done it their whole lives.

Yet they were nothing in comparison to the two prisoners about four or five dozen yards from where they stood. These two—one a man wearing grimy-looking glasses, the other a man without a shirt at all—stood facing each other, but they were not alone. At the bespectacled man's side was an absolutely massive column of water, far bigger than a mage of his size should have been able to conjure, while a blazing fire covered the shirtless man's body like a suit of armor.

No way,
Darek thought, watching those two men below.
How did they do that? They don't even seem to be trying.

The bespectacled man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and gestured toward the shirtless man. The water column then shot toward the shirtless man like a cannon ball, but the shirtless man clapped his hands together and a massive wave of flame erupted from the palms of his hands.

The water column and fire wave met each other about halfway. The resulting collision resulted in a loud hissing sound and a thick cloud of steam obscuring the two training partners, although the steam cloud was quickly dissipated by a gust of wind that appeared to have come from the bespectacled man, who was now rubbing the steam off his glasses while the shirtless man's hands glowed with thick flame.

“Impressed?” said the first prisoner, giving Darek a grin that showed all of his missing teeth.

“I'm in shock,” said Darek, shaking his head as he looked at the first prisoner. “This is the army?”

“The Limitless Army, as Jakuuth calls it,” said the first prisoner, gesturing at the hundreds of prisoners down below. “He says that once we're done training, we will be the most fearsome army in all of the Northern Isles. Even the Carnagian Air Force and Aquarian Federated Army will not be able to stand against us.”

The term 'Limitless' sounded familiar to Darek, but at the moment he was too distracted by all of the noise and smells to think too deeply about it.

“I thought I'd see just a bunch of undisciplined prisoners,” said Darek, glancing at the training Army below. “But these … they look like an actual army here.”

“We weren't always like this,” said the first prisoner. “When Jakuuth first arrived, we were always killing and raping and stealing from each other, some more than others, of course. And when he offered us freedom, we intended to keep our old ways and combine them with our new freedom to commit even worse crimes.”

“That didn't happen, though, did it?” said Darek.

“Of course not,” said the first prisoner. He sighed. “And for good reason. Your father quickly went to work stamping out all of those bad habits. It only took him a week to make clear that he was not going to tolerate any sort of raping, killing, or thievery in his Army for any reason whatsoever.”

“I see,” said Darek. “I just can't believe that my father managed to do all of this in two months.”

“That's because he's the Son of Grinf,” said one of the other members of his escort. “You haven't seen your old man for a while, but he's not the kind of guy you mess with. When he wants you to stop raping, killing, and stealing, he means it.”

The prisoner said that while rubbing his side. Darek suspected that this prisoner had learned that lesson the hard way, though he didn't ask to see the scars.

The situation is worse than I thought,
Darek thought.
If the prisoners are already a unified army, then I doubt it will be long before Jakuuth decides to start the invasion.

Trying to seem as casual as he could, Darek asked, “So, when is the Army supposed to begin its conquest of the Northern Isles?”

“No idea,” said the first prisoner with a shrug. “Your father said we would head out when we were ready to head out. But if you ask me, I think it will be sometime soon, maybe next week, because Jakuuth has been pushing us harder than usual and has had more private talks with his lieutenants than he usually does.”

Lieutenants?
Darek thought.
Those must be the loyalists that the Ghostly God described, the ones who had escaped with Jakuuth. And if what this guy says is true, then the Army is almost ready to head out.

Deciding he needed to see Jakuuth right away, Darek said to the first prisoner, “Good to hear. I thought I was going to be late for the conquest, but if all goes well, maybe I will be joining my father at the front of the Army as we kick down the doors of the Northern Isles.”