Book 8: Chapter 45: The last mage of archen
On the eve of their first day, the mages acting as leaders gathered. No tent was large enough to hold them all, so they sat around a heating stone on fallen logs, halfway between the camp and Archen, granting them some privacy.
Henry, Valerius, and Cornelia all stared with various degrees of shamelessness at the newcomer in their midst. As for the other three, they had debated how to handle the truth. Atreus had preferred concealment, whereas Martel had advocated for openness. While Eleanor leaned towards caution as well, Atreus had bowed to Martel’s intuition and given him the task of introducing the spellbreaker.
“We have much to discuss,” Martel began, “but first, you should all meet the third leader of our new city. The last member of the Triumvirate we set up together. This is Atreus.” The aforementioned mage bowed his head in greeting, as did the others. Martel cleared his throat. “Atreus the Spellbreaker. The name is not a coincidence. This is, in fact, him. This is a mage of Archen.”
Bewildered looks flew across the circle. “How do you mean?” Henry asked.
“I’m sure you’ve heard some legends. There’s a statue of him in the Lyceum.”
“It’s not a good likeness. Forehead’s too big,” Atreus mumbled.
“Forgive me, Martel, I am not sure I understand. Do you claim this man to be over three centuries old?” Valerius stared at the battlemage and the spellbreaker in turn.
“Briefly said, yes. Less briefly said… it’s a long story.” Martel sighed. “Eleanor, you probably remember the details best.”
Nodding, the mageknight began the tale of how three acolytes in Morcaster had met the last living mage of Archen.
A lengthy silence followed after Eleanor’s recounting of how they had lifted the curse from Atreus and the explanation for how he had lived for so many years. Finally, Valerius spoke. “If a stranger had told me this, I would have called them liars. If a relative had told me this, I would have called them mad. The pair of you are the only people that I might find this believable.”
With his half-smile, Atreus grabbed a rock from the ground. He let his hand sweep over it, and they all saw the glow of magic briefly. As the stone became visible again, letters had been inscribed into it. “You’re the stonemage?” he asked Henry and threw the rock at him. “What does this tell you?”
Henry caught the stone and turned it over in his hand, examining the writing. “This is an Archean enchantment! I’ve felt them so many times in Morcaster on the very walls of the Lyceum and the city. How could you… nobody has made these in centuries… is it really true?”
“I understand your doubt, but I am convinced he speaks the truth. I have seen too much to think otherwise,” Martel impressed on the others. “I watched with my own eyes how he was freed from the curse. I fought by his side against maleficars and undead. Lastly, he divulged secrets of Archean magic to Eleanor and me. He is our ally through and through.”
“That is enough for me.” Valerius shrugged. “He could be stark raving mad for all I care. If Martel trusts him, so do I.”
“My mind still reels from all you have said, but this entire venture does make more sense with the support of a native,” Cornelia considered. “Regardless, as the mageknight said, we are committed. And any mage is a valuable addition to our cause.”
“With regard to that, the hour is late. We should make our plans for tomorrow. I am sure we are all eager to sleep,” Eleanor remarked.
“Of course. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the city and begin investigating the houses,” Henry said. “Destroy those that aren’t fit for purpose anymore. We can begin moving people into the city after that.”
“I have looked at the river, and it seems odd to me that it flows so far from the city,” Cornelia considered. “I cannot make sense of how it would have supplied water back in the day.”
“It was much closer back then,” Atreus explained. “It used to run right against the southern wall.” He turned and pointed into the dark.
“Erosion,” Henry considered. “Three centuries do change a landscape.”
“In that case, I have my task. I shall require your help, Henry, diverting the course of the river,” the watermage declared. “But it can wait until you have finished examining the city. I will make my own investigation of building a water system.”
“I shall keep up the fieldwork, I suppose,” Valerius said. “Empowered strength does make it faster to haul logs and big rocks about, or tearing out tree stumps.”
“I will hunt in the forest,” Eleanor decided. “They are teeming with game, and it will help our provisions stretch.”
“I’ll keep enchanting heating stones. Some comforts for our people will raise their spirits amidst all the work,” Martel mused.
“My skills are less useful for these purposes, but I know the area well. I’ll do some scouting of the land and maybe look towards the old iron mines. See what I can learn,” Atreus said, to which none argued, though they also did not know the full truth of it. Martel did, and he understood what the spellbreaker kept silent; their arrival to Archen would cause a disturbance, and if a vengeful lich stalked the lands, he would have reason to return.
Martel hoped that Atreus would be up for such a battle should it happen while he was away from the city, but he had to trust that the spellbreaker knew his own powers. His continued survival suggested as much. The same went for every mage seated around the circle; each had their own skills and tasks, and they would have to depend on each other to not only survive, but eventually thrive. “Very well. We all know what do. You should all sleep.”
The wizards rose from their seats and went back to the camp, scattered into different directions. Walking with Eleanor back to their tent, Martel exchanged a quick greeting with the watchman they passed, recognising him as a former legionary from the fifth cohort, and they went to seek sleep.