6. Keelan

Chapter 6

Keelan

I stared at Atikus as he closed his eyes and created a Telepathic link. He agreed to speak his words aloud so I could listen in on the one-way mental communication, but even with that assurance, I wrung my dusty blue cap as his words tumbled out.

“Jess, it’s Atikus . . .” he spoke aloud and mentally at once.

Moments later, Atikus opened his eyes.

His shoulders slumped.

“Telepathy isn’t usually so exhausting,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What made that so hard?”

“Communicating over an entire continent’s distance puts a real strain on my magical reserves. I haven’t tried using Telepathy with someone that far away in centuries.” He blinked a few times, then looked up. “It would have been difficult under the best of situations but so soon after all our travels . . . I’m exhausted.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. “Did she say anything? How did she sound?”

Atikus chuckled. “You know it doesn’t work that way, son. Telepathy only goes in one direction. She couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t hear anything on her end. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to ask her yourself when you get to the cave.”

I tossed my cap onto the chair beside Atikus and slumped into the cushion, mindless of how I crushed the poor cap.

“Back to that cave,” I muttered, trying to banish memories of nearly killing Jess before she fled through the mirror. “Think she’s forgiven me yet? I mean . . . I guess I worry . . .”

Atikus lifted a brow and grinned. “Weren’t you calling Jess an immature brat before we came home? Why are you so nervous about how she’s doing now, about how she will react to seeing you again?”

“Come on, Atikus. I tried to kill her. Why wouldn’t I be worried?” I ran a hand over my rusty stubble and avoided meeting his gaze. “I mean, what’s going to happen when she sees me? When she sees me bringing back her horse or . . . Spirits, you know what I mean.”

The Mage’s grin grew. “I think I know exactly what you mean. When you figure it out, come see me and I’ll explain what to do about it.”

What in the Phoenix did he mean by that? Of course I was worried about how Jess would receive me. She’s the Queen now, and I did try to kill her. Sure, I was under Compulsion. It wasn’t really me. Still, it was my hand holding the knife. If I lived another fifty years, I would never forget the terror in her eyes, eyes that had only just begun to soften when they fell in my direction.

When her eyes fell on me.

A shiver snaked up my spine and down my arms.

Why did the idea of Jess looking at me give me such unease? Was it even unease? It felt so much like when Tiana—

My stomach fell.

Here I was, daydreaming about Jess, wondering if she hated me or might see me as . . . something else . . . and I’d nearly forgotten the woman I was enamored with only a short time ago.

A pang of regret and grief stabbed at my chest.

Tiana was smart and beautiful and funny. Spirits, she had a quick wit and a sharp tongue. I loved that about her.

Loved.

Did I love her?

I couldn’t remember ever thinking that word, much less speaking it aloud. I was interested. I liked her. I loved the time we spent together.

Was that the same thing as loving her?

I didn’t think so, but the whole subject was so far outside my comfort zone that I barely knew where to begin to understand it.

“Just get ready for your trip. Time is passing while you sit here worrying.” Atikus wobbled as he stood and braced himself on my shoulder. “I’m going to check on preparations for the ceremony tonight and might stop by to see what the cook’s making for dinner. Why don’t you come by my chamber later and walk with me to the tower grounds?”

“I still don’t understand why you don’t want Declan there. He’d want to show his support to you and the guild.”

“Because he would outshine all of us, and tonight is for the guild. The one presiding insisted, and we dare not ignore her counsel.”

“All right. Not sure I understand any of that, especially since you won’t tell me who she is. I’ll go finish packing. See you in a couple hours.”

The gray winter sky had dimmed to a moonless night by the time I returned to the Mages’ quarters and rapped on the thick door of Atikus’s apartment. A moment later, the door creaked open, and the Mage emerged in his long formal robe, two lines of gold glittering on the collar and cuffs.

My eyes widened as I stared into the stripes of his Gift.

The gold flowed as if alive.

“Time to get this over with,” Atikus said with a tight smile.

“Atikus, I don’t remember your stripes moving before.”

He looked down at his cuff and shrugged. “Theatrics and staging are powerful tools. That’s a lesson you would do well to learn, my boy.”

“It sure made me look twice. You still sure you want to do this? You’re taking on the weight of the entire magical world.”

“Look around us. The guild was devastated. Spirits, the whole capital is in ruins. Fewer than three hundred of my brothers and sisters survived—and that’s across the entire country, not just here. We aren’t just men with Gifts; we are teachers, inventors, historians. While most people will never know the role we play, every life in Melucia is improved by the work of the guild and our members.” Atikus sighed as only an old man can. “It will take generations to rebuild our strength. Most who survived are young or highly specialized. I have never wanted the burden of leadership, but sometimes life calls us for a greater purpose. After everything our people have suffered, how can I refuse that call now?”

Pride swelled in my chest as I stared down at my adopted father. He had always been wise, offering kind words and gentle guidance, but until that moment, I had never seen the depth of his commitment to magic and the people of Melucia. His was a life of service. I hoped, one day, I might walk in the shadow of his greatness.

“I guess you’re right. I don’t think there’s anyone else strong enough to lead the guild either, I suppose.”

“It isn’t about strength, Keelan.” Atikus shrugged and stepped out, closing the door behind him.

As we strode away, something in that simple act struck me as poetic, the closing of one door heralding the opening of another.

I always knew my path—to serve in the Guard, to protect others. Now, after losing Tiana in a failed search across the border and our nearly tragic parting with Jess, I wondered—for the first time—if the course I’d set all those years ago was meant for me.

I loved the Guard, but was it my calling ?

I shook my head at the irony of me questioning my place in the world while my perpetually lost brother blazed like a star for others to follow. It appeared someone had switched our roles without bothering to give us a gentlemanly heads-up.

We exited the living quarters and turned toward the tower grounds.

“Why are we doing this at the tower? It doesn’t work anymore, does it?”

Atikus nodded. “It is a symbol, an icon representing the might of magic in our world, the place of the guild in the lives of our people. Besides, I think you will find it still has its uses.”

With that cryptic pronouncement, we entered the tower square.

In the weeks that followed the siege, hundreds of men and Mages had worked tirelessly clearing rubble and debris from the tower’s destruction. Now, an empty courtyard spread before us, leading to the tower’s broken base. Every living Mage in the Melucian Empire stood assembled on either side of the central path, forcing us to walk down the center. The path itself was littered with hand-sized cerulean petals of a flower that flared as our feet pressed into them.

Mages on either side bowed deeply and remained in that position until we were well past.

I was startled by the display of reverence, but Atikus marched forward, head held aloft, as though he expected the courtly reception. When we passed Mage Fergus— Uncle Ferg to Declan and me—the portly old Mage snuck a wink in my direction before bowing as low as his bulging belly would allow.

The Mages straightened and followed in orderly ranks until we reached the tower’s base. I made to step aside, but Atikus gripped my elbow and urged me to continue my escort up the stone steps, where three ancients in billowing robes waited. When we reached the top step, it was Atikus’s turn to bow.

The Elders echoed his respect.

The shuffling of feet behind us quieted. I glanced back to find every other Mage assembled in a semi-circle at perfectly spaced intervals. Each Mage’s right arm was stretched forward, hand held upward, with a ball of white light hovering above their palm.

The withered Elder in the middle spoke in a voice magnified by magic.

“Brothers and Sisters of Magic, the Arch Mage has fallen. A new Guardian must now take his place. By the Light of the Phoenix, who here bears two or more lines of gold and offers to serve?”

No one stirred.

I peered over my shoulder to find every Mage frozen. The snapping of their robes and whistling of the brisk winter wind was the only sound in the courtyard. When I turned back, Atikus lifted his palm before him, and bright azure flame flared to life.

The elderly Mage bowed and stepped back.

The other two joined him.

The trio began chanting in the Mages’ tongue, slow and rhythmic, almost soothing yet incomprehensible to my ears.

Tiny hairs on my arms rose as magical energy swelled from their incantation. I nearly fell backward when the Mages’ words swelled, and the shimmering image of a woman appeared before them. A broad smile parted her lips when her dark eyes landed on Atikus.

Then her gaze settled on me, and her expression shifted.

Her smooth brow quirked in confusion, then recognition, and her eyes opened wide. She stared for only a heartbeat, a warm smile parting her lips, before returning her focus to Atikus and speaking in a clear, rich voice.

“I, Keeper of Magic, bring greetings and heartfelt wishes from the Phoenix herself.”

An excited murmur rose from the Mages behind us at the woman’s invocation of magic’s most cherished symbol—and the savior of Saltstone’s people. “For two hundred twenty-one years, Velius Quin led this guild with strength, honor, and integrity. His was a life of service and duty. His loss will be felt for generations.”

I peered out of the side of one eye to find Atikus’s eyes watering at the eulogy of his former leader and longtime friend.

“Now is the time for new beginnings.” The woman’s voice brightened. “Your beloved city rises from the ashes. Your people’s spirit is renewed. So, too, must our guild. Tonight, we choose a new Arch Mage, and in doing so, take our first step into the future.”

The Keeper made eye contact with the Mages closest to the steps, causing more than a few to retreat from her penetrating gaze.

“For over twelve hundred years, Arch Mages have been selected from among those bearing two or more bands of gold. To our knowledge, only three alive today carry this distinction: Mage Atikus Dani of Melucia, High Chancellor Danai Thorn of the Kingdom of Spires, and Declan Rea, the Heir of Magic and son of the Isle of Rea Utu.” One corner of her mouth quirked as she spoke Declan’s name. “High Chancellor Thorn fled the battlefield and has not been seen since. Declan Rea’s path leads elsewhere. Mage Dani stands before you.”

The Keeper raised one palm, and a ball of flame burst into existence. “Each Mage must now bond his or her vote with magic itself. If you support Mage Dani’s ascension, cast your flame upward.”

Atikus didn’t turn to watch, but I couldn’t help myself. My jaw dropped as every Mage around us raised their hands above their heads and released their flames into the night sky. No longer were there hundreds of blazing stars but one massive beacon that shimmered and sparked.

When all were aloft, the Keeper raised her own flame to join the others.

Her flame struck; the mass of magic flared and transformed into a brilliant outline of a Phoenix as tall as the tower itself. Its head reared toward the sky, and it released a cacophonous roar. It belched a stream of magical flame, then dove and disappeared into the vein of raw power that coursed below the tower’s base.

The Keeper intoned, “Arch Mage Atikus Dani, turn and face your guild.”

When Atikus turned, he must have noticed the dumbstruck expression plastered across my face, as he gave me a quick wink.

The Keeper raised her palm again. Flame leaped from her hand onto Atikus’s chest. When it died away, a golden Phoenix emblazoned across his robe shone as brightly as any sun. The gold of the Phoenix flowed like the stripes on his collar and cuffs, and every Mage, including the three ancients who presided, dropped to their knees and bowed their heads.

Atikus, never one for ceremony—and ever quick with a quip—turned and whispered, “Give it to us Mages; we know how to put on a good show.”