The Trial of Mirax

Mirax was getting impatient. It had been a day and a half since he had left the mountain castle, where he was given the Dragon Blood Sword by the Elder Dragon and his pup, and they were still three days away from the King's Palace. The Ancient Enchanted Sword hung on his back, made anew by the power of the Dragons, the blade covered in the blood of the same dragon. With Lyra's face firmly attached in his mind, he wanted them to run at full speed until they made it to the Palace.

Unfortunately, that was impractical. They set a good pace every morning, but had to put wards and enchantments around them every night, which took time. And those wards had to be in place before the sun set, or they could be in terrible danger. There were dangers in the world after the sun set that even a wizened Wizard did not want to face. And Mirax was anything but wizened.

Of course, the King's Servant, Jairan, had once been an accomplished Swordsmen, one of the warriors of the King who's skill with a blade was a magic all to itself. He was retired, too old to be part of the King's elite, but old as he was, he could still hold his own against most anything in the dark. It was one of the reasons the King had sent him with Mirax. As a former Swordsman, he could keep an eye on the young Wizard, without risking loosing one of the active Swordsmen. Although he was only a servant, he was the King's Servant, which meant he had the highest position of any servant in the Palace. He personally attended the King in whatever was needed, including babysitting a Wizard with more heart than head.

But even so, a team of Swordsmen would not travel at night without good reason. There were things that hid during the day that would make even the most powerful Wizard's skin crawl. And that meant that before the sun set, they had to protect themselves. They had to set up a fire that wouldn't die, because the heat and light would keep most of the denizens of the dark away, and Mirax had to set the wards that would keep out most everything else. Even then, they slept in shifts, just in case. It was dangerous traveling after dark, but not impossible if one was careful.

Normally, Mirax didn't mind careful, but in this case it meant valuable time while Lyra was writhing in pain. The visions that had started on the mountainside had only increased in clarity and intensity, and Mirax had a feeling they were the onset of Farsight, an ability to see things across the world through magic. The greatest Farseers could even see through time, either future or past. Past was easier, and anything seen in the Future was not set, but still a powerful ability. Maybe one in fifteen Wizards had Farsight, and only one in a few dozen of those that did could see through time. Even if he couldn't see through time, he could still be very valuable to the Kingdom, now, whereas before he had only been seen as a liability. If he cracked one more of the pillars in the Palace while he practiced his magic, he was sure the Court Wizard would cast him out, putting a ward around him to warn people he was dangerous.

But that had changed since the mountain. Mirax didn't feel as bumbling as he had before. He wasn't sure what had changed, but even though he knew he still had a long way to go, he also no longer felt quite so...useless.

"It is getting close to time to make camp." Jairan said, pulling Mirax out of his thoughts. Mirax grunted with frustration. He had to set the wards, while Jairan set up the fire and food. He supposed he was lucky, as he was a horrible cook, but wards weren't his strong suit. What his strong suit was, exactly, he wasn't sure, but wards were definitely not it.

"Just a little further." Mirax said, as they reached the top of a hill. "We've got some time, yet."

"Yes, Sir Wizard." Jairan said dryly. "A few more steps will get us there ever so much faster."

Mirax ignored him. He wanted to get to the Palace as soon as possible. Lyra was waiting.

As they went over the crest of the hill, Mirax looked over the rolling plains. The well worn road they were traveling on followed the gently rolling hills. Up ahead, on the east side of the road, was the forest they had passed on the way to the mountains. Mirax knew they shouldn't make camp near it, but in his need to go further, he had forgotten they were coming up, and his pride wouldn't let him admit that Jairan was right and they should have made camp a before com in to the forest. At least, he wouldn't admit it to Jairan.

"We'll make camp down on that ridge, near those stone formations." Mirax said.

"Yes, Sir Wizard, that spot is much preferable to the one we just passed." Jairan said.

Mirax tried to ignore the slight, and urged his horse to the rock formation, which was located about fifty yards away from the edge of the forest. Mirax dropped off his horse and began working out his wards in his head. He could use the rocks as an anchor for some of them, and the fire could go in the nook between them. Mirax nodded his head. this would do nicely.

Jairan began walking towards the trees, to gather firewood, and Mirax reached into the well of Magic within him. He felt the barrier that he had been the first thing he learned how to craft, which isolated him from the Power inside him. Without that barrier, his power would flow unchecked with his emotions. The first things Wizards learned was to put a dam between them and their power, and only let enough through to accomplish what they wanted to.

That was the main part Mirax had trouble with. He had difficulty keeping back the torrent of emotion behind that dam, and it constantly leaked, even when he was in control. He managed, this time, but even so more power came out than he had intended. Not that that was a bad thing in this instance, just inefficient.

Emotion was the fuel of magic, the raw power of life. Any emotion could be used, and some emotions were better than others at certain spells. For protective wards, he focused on the feeling he got when he thought of Lyla in danger. The overwhelming need to protect her, to save her, made the wards stronger than they would have been if he had used, say, the frustration he felt at not being able to get to her faster. Or the annoyance at Jairan's snide remarks.

After feeling the Power flood him for a moment, he began to shape it into the wards he wanted. Emotion may be the fuel for Magic, but Willpower shaped it. Without a strong will, a Wizard was more harm than good.

Once Mirax was finished, he admired his work, encircling the campsite. Sure, it was flimsy, and any Wizard worth his salt would not only be able to see it, but disable it with ease, but it would do. Now, all they needed was the fire.

On that note, Mirax realized he hadn't seen Jairan the entire time he had been constructing the ward. In fact, it had taken him some time to construct the ward, and the sun was nearly set. They needed that fire going.

Mirax walked from within the stones, towards the forest, and nearly jumped when he saw a man in dark clothing and bright red hair leaning against the other side of the stone, filing one of his fingernails.

"'Ello, mate." the man said, "Don't suppose you 'ave a light? I 'aven't 'ad a smoke in a while."

Mirax stopped cold. He looked around, and couldn't see Jairan anywhere. Where had this man come from, and how did he slip past Jairan?

"I'm afraid not, friend." Mirax said. Of course, he could evoke fire, but he wasn't about to tell this man he was a Wizard. Knowledge was a form of power, as well. "Are you a traveler?"

The man in black smiled, "I travel. Does that count?"

"It would seem to be the definition." Mirax said, combing the edge of the forest for Jairan.

"If you're lookin' for your older friend, I don't think 'e's gonna be joinin us any time soon." The man said, and that set Mirax on his toes.

From around the stones, more shapes appeared in the failing light, and as Mirax turned, two more came up behind him. All of them wore the same black outfits, and they all had weapons drawn.

"That seems like a nice sword you've got on your back." The man leaning against the stone said. "Looks like something I'd like in my collection."

Fear gripped Mirax's heart as he realized what was happening. He could not let the sword fall in this man's hands, and where was Jairan?

"I'm afraid it is meant for someone else." Mirax said, gently openning up the barrier inside him and letting his power flood him. Unfortunately, the main emotion he had to fuel it was fear, which, while useful, was also the one he had the most difficulty controlling.

"Now, that's not nice. We even let the old codger live, and you insult us by not paying your toll? That's just not going to do." the man looked to one of the others, and nodded. He pulled out a small tube and brought it to his lips, but Mirax was faster. He raised his hand to him, and spoke a word, forcing all his fear into the spell. A gust of wind howled past him, lifting the man off his feet and throwing him across the field. Mirax turned to the next nearest Brigand, for that's what they surely were, and enacted another spell that caused the man to trip, his boots fused together.

For half a moment, Mirax thought he might be able to take them, until he felt a small prick on his arm. He turned, and saw a dart sticking out of his bicep. Looking up, he saw the first man, standing with a small blowgun to his lips. He brought it down and smiled.

"Our luck is good, boys. We've caught ourselves a Wizard." The red haired man said. The next thing Mirax saw was darkness.

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Mirax woke with a headache that felt as if it were splitting his head open. Light dimly lit the room from a candle. Groggily, as if through a mist, he tried to remember what had happened. The Brigands came to his mind, and he remembered being poisoned, but he had no idea where he was, or how far away from the Palace he was. He didn't even know how long he'd been out. Oh, gods. Lyra! How much time did he have? And where was his sword!

Mirax sat up, ignoring the pain in his head, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Jairan was lying next to him, still unconscious. Mirax could only guess they had gotten him with a poisoned dart as well.

Looking around, if Mirax didn't know any better, he'd say he was in a room in a castle. A very old castle. There were pieces of rotted wooden furniture thrown about, though the door itself seemed fairly sturdy. Other than that, there wasn't much else to see. Their captives had left a single candle burning in the room for light, and from the wax, it looked as if it had been about half melted. It had probably been burning for a while, though Mirax didn't have any point of reference to know exactly how long.

Behind him, Jairan stirred. He sat up with his head in his hands.

"Bloody Burntroot." Jairan said, "Leaves such a headache."

"Is that what that was?" Mirax asked.

"Most definitely." Jairan said, getting to his feet "Thankfully, the headache doesn't last long. Do you know where we are?"

"Some castle." Mirax said, his gut wrenching as he thought about the time they'd lost. "Do you know how long Burntroot would put us to sleep?"

"Oh, at least a day, if they got the mixture right. Two if they added some Squire Sprout to the mix."

"And you know this because..." Mirax said.

"I was a Swordsman, Sir Wizard." Jairan said with more than a little disdain. "I made it my business to know various poisons and their uses. These men are professionals, but Squire Sprout is expensive. My guess is we've been asleep for the better part of a day."

"That means Lyra only has five more, at the most, and we were still three days from the Palace." Mirax said. He closed his eyes, and tried to bring his farsight to bare, but he still did not know how it worked.

"Do not think about that, now." Jairan said, "One thing at a time. Can you unlock that door?"

Mirax studied the lock for a moment . It wasn't too complex, but Mirax was not good at focused, complicated spells. "I can try."

Mirax put his hand against the lock, and to Mirax' surprise, nothing happened. He could feel the barrier inside him, keeping his power away, only he could not open a leak. In fact, it was more intact than it had ever been.

Real fear gripped Mirax now, and he noticed a bracelet on his wrist for the first time. It was a Wizard Cuff. The Court Wizard Mirax studied under would use them on new apprentices, to help them learn how to control their magic. While it was on, he wouldn't be able to reach his Power, and it would only come off when the one who had put it on took it off.

It was then that the door opened, and the Red Haired Brigand that Mirax had first met stood on the other side, flanked by his lackeys. They now wore robes the color of midnight.

"Well, well, you're awake." The man said, "That's good, cause i wasn't lookin forward to draggin you're carcasses to the throne room. The boss wants to see you, and I wouldn't keep 'im waiting if I was you."

Two of the henchmen grabbed Mirax by each arm, and started to half drag, half carry him through the hall. Mirax managed to glance around and saw Jairan behind handled in a similar way, though the look of calm on Jairan's face did not match the fear on Mirax'.

The halls were just as run down as the room they'd been in, any tapestries on the walls having been faded so as to be unrecognizable, and all furniture rotted and falling apart. once they reached the throne room, they found much the same.

It looked like it had been glamourous once, but not anymore. The throne was as dilapidated as everything else, and the man sitting upon it was just as weathered. His skin was white and flaked, his eyes sunk into his skull. He seemed to be skin stretched across bones. But it wasn't that that made Mirax' blood freeze in his veins. It was the thing's eyes. Their pupils were vertical slits, and their color marked them for what this thing was. They were yellow.

It was a Wraith. A scourge of the night, powerful and terrible to behold. Their touch brought death and disease with it. This one was old, ancient even, and it seemed like it could barely move. The men surrounding him bowed to the floor, one hand on the ground, the other on their chest. Men who worshiped Wraiths? Mirax had read about that, but never actually believed it.

"I have brought a Wizard, my Liege." the Brigand said.

The Wraith's eyes moved from the Brigand to Mirax, and a slow, deliberate smile spread across that horrid face.

"Y-yessssss." The creature said slowly. It's voice was so old, Mirax was surprised it could speak at all. It sounded like rocks being grated together. "Hhhave you f...found....the bbookkkk?"

"Yes, my Liege." The man said, snapping his fingers. One of his men approached the throne and bowed, holding a large, leather-bound book in his hands. "We found it in the catacombs. The one who ruled here tried to take it with him when he died,"

Mirax recognized the book at once. It was a spell tome, a book of great power made by the Wizards of Old, in a time before there were limit put on the use of Magic. The spell tomes of Old had magic in them so powerful that even the Elder Wizards usually just locked them away instead of reading them. Some of them were said to have captured spirits in their pages, beings of power who were awaiting one to read the pages of the book, in order to enter their bodies and escape their punishment. Other stories said the books themselves were made from human skin, and written in blood.

Whatever it was, Mirax instantly knew that the Wraith could not get ahold of something so powerful. If it did, It would wreak havoc on the rest of the world.

Mirax scanned the room, and his heart gave a leap when he saw the Dragon's Blood Sword lying next to the throne. He had to somehow get the book and sword away, but how?

"Brrr...rrring....the boyyyy." The Wraith said, and the men holding Mirax dragged him to the foot of the throne. "Yyyou....you willlllll rreeeeeead."

It took a moment for Mirax to understand. It wanted him to read the book? How was he supposed to...

Then it hit him Only Wizards could unlock the mysteries of a Spell Tome. Wraiths ate magic, but could not access the power of the Tome without a Wizard to help him. And Mirax was going to be that Wizard.

Mirax started to struggle as they set the Tome on the ground in front of him. One of the Lackeys held his head down, facing the Tome as another opened the first page. Mirax tried to shut his eyes, but something kept them forced open. The Tome demanded to be read. It was like trying to resist the tide. Once opened, he could not take his eyes off the Tome any more than he could make his eyes trade places with his ears.

The words on the pages were in a language he only vaguely recognized. It was in a dialect of one of the Ancient languages he had been forced to study, but he hadn't been a very good student of those languages anymore than he had been a good student of wards. But these words didn't need translating. They didn't even need to be spoken. They only wanted to be read.

Then they took the bracelet off, giving him access to his magic, but also making him vulnerable.

He could not pull his eyes away, or give any thought to escape. As he read each word, they flew from the page, and into his eyes. When he was finished with one page, it turned to the next on it's own accord. Wind whirled around the cavern, his fear having broken the dam holding his power back, as the power of the Tome flowed within him. He could hear the Wraith laughing as it fed on the excess energy Mirax was giving off, no doubt looking forward to when Mirax had finished reading the Tome, when t would drain Mirax of the power he had absorbed, as well as his own life. Throughout it all, Mirax heard the the laugh of the Wraith, the scream from his own lips, and a quiet, almost silent sigh of satisfaction.

Then it was over. The book slammed shut, not useless, but out of power. It would be a long time before it would be charged enough to do that again. Anyone else who opened the book would see nothing, until it had gathered enough power.

Mirax slumped to the floor, a thousand thoughts, which were not his own, fluttering through his head. it would take a lifetime to sift through it all, but right now, it was so jumbled, he didn't know what were his own thoughts, and what was from the book.

"Yesssss!" The snaky voice said. Mirax rolled over on his back and looked up at the Wraith. it was no longer so old it could not move. Now, it looked no more than twenty five years, his body strong and lithe, with large, pointed fangs growing in his mouth. Long, dark hair fell to its shoulders, though his skin was still white as paste. "And now, to feed on the rest and recover my power as well as my youth."

Mirax tilted his head as he saw the Wraith kneel down towards him. On instinct, Mirax said a word he had never heard before, and a brilliant light flashed between him and the Wraith. The light was so bright, the Wraith jumped away with a speed that reached superhuman. Every person in the room ducked, hiding their eyes from the light.

Mirax lay there confused. He'd never been able to produce light before . Fire, sometimes, but pure light was extremely difficult to produce. He shouldn't have been able to do that.

As soon as the thought entered his head, the light died. Still somewhat dazed, Mirax turned to Jairan, and realized the old Swordsman hadn't been sitting still this whole time. He'd somehow managed to get ahold of a sword, most likely belonging to one of his captors. He was twirling and dancing around the men so fast, his blade didn't even seem real.

While the Wraith Worshipers were busy with Jairan, Mirax stood on wavy legs. The Wraith itself stood not ten feet away, with hate and hunger in his eyes.

"I will have the rest of my power." It said through clenched teeth.

"You will try, Meralak." Mirax said. Where had that come from? Out of instinct, Mirax lifted both hands. One turned white, then began to form ice crystals around it, the air around his hand beginning to form mist, while his other hand turned red and burst into flames. n Mirax understood what he was doing, but not the how. with his left hand, he was pulling in the heat from around him, freezing the very air. He channeled that heat through his body, somehow without harming himself, creating fire in his other hand, again without harming himself. It was the most powerful piece of Magic Mirax had ever seen.

The Wraith hissed at Mirax, then said a word, and fled the room. The remaining Wraith Worshipers, of which there weren't many left, followed him out.

Mirax stood in the floor, holding the magic longer than he needed to.

"Sir Wizard?" Jairan said, "they seem to have left."

Mirax lowered his hands, still not feeling entirely in control. He hadn't meant to do any of those things. And he had called that Wraith Meralak. Was that it's name? How had he known that?

"We should most likely follow their lead." Jairan said, still waiting on Mirax.

"Yes." Mirax said, turning stiffly towards the sword, still lying next to the Throne.

"Of course, there is the problem that we do not know where we are. It will take time to find our way back." Jairan said.

"Maybe." Mirax said, a confused look on his face. He saw Lyra's face again, clearer this time, and she was running out of time. She would be dead within the day. He didn't know how he new, but he knew.

Then a thought occurred to him, though it was a thought so foreign, he wasn't entirely convinced it was his. "Maybe not." He said.

Mirax held his hand up, and opened the flood gates to his power once more. It surged through him, filling him with it's sweetness. This was an emotion he wasn't familiar with. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but however he knew it, it was working. The air shimmered before him, warping around a center point. The point widened, forcing reality away from it until it was large enough to hold a person. On the other side, Mirax and Jairan could see the walls of the Palace, not an hours walk away.

"By the gods..." Jairan said. Mirax hadn't even known magic like this existed. He had no idea how he was doing it, only that it was working. Without saying a word, he led Jairan through the hole he had made in the fabric of reality, all the while hearing that silent chuckle.

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Once on the other side, the hole closed in on itself, and Mirax and Jairan looked around. They'd made a three day journey in moments. Mirax held the sword in his hand, still feeling the urging to get to Lyra before it was too late. He knew, somehow, deep down, that she would be ok, now. He would get to her in time, and she would be healed. And in a brief flash of Farsight, he saw that for a small time, they would be happy. He saw love, celebration, and peace. But something wasn't right. The power he had just wielded, he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't him that was wielding it. That there was...someone else with him, guiding his movements. It was still weak, but he could almost feel it, just under the service. Events had been set in motion, and somehow Mirax knew that an ending was coming. An end to this age, and he would be instrumental in the forming of the age to come. He saw no details, and he did not know how much time he may have, all he knew was that he needed to be prepared.

But it wasn't going to happen today. Today, he needed to talk to the Court Wizard and tell him what happened. There was a Wraith that was now on the loose, and able to move about. Even if it did not have it's power, it was only a matter of time before it found a way. Also, he knew he had to tell them about the Tome, as well. He didn't know what it had done to him, and he wasn't entirely certain it was benign.

But first, there was a young woman who needed his help, and he hadn't come this far to be side tracked now.