Iron of the Innocent: Mistress of Agony (Vol 2)

Chapter 17: Visitors

274 I.C.
Sacren
Solorn Kingdom
Solorn Province
City of Clendon

Fresh air swirled around the big room as the two, large windows and shutters opened to the outside. Shydler lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, his eyes opening from sleep a few minutes before. The mage took a deep breath before sitting up on the side of the wide bed with its comfortable linens and thick quilt. He rested his feet on the soft carpet. Wincing slightly, he looked down at the big scar on his injured side and shook his head a little.

Despite four weeks going by, his wound from Silence's wand still felt painful. He believed it nearly killed him. The results of her attack failed to heal at a normal rate, and the cleric who helped him seemed baffled by the slow healing process. The skin knit together over a few weeks, and now the raised, red scar ached anytime he moved. If he was careless, the pain of the scar stabbed at him like a knife driving into his body.

Slowly standing up, the mage walked to one of the windows and looked out over the green property surrounding the central home of all mages in Solorn. The stone built stronghold was located near Clendon's center, and it reached upward from its large foundations toward the sky. Each floor was slightly smaller as it rose into the air, with sharp towers crowning the top floor. Shydler admired the well-tended grounds with its various flowers and trimmed trees. The vibrant colors appeared brighter this morning. The beauty below reminded him of his own, now destroyed gardens, and he missed them deeply.

Walking to the glass double doors that opened onto his small balcony, he stepped out into the morning light. His quarters were near the top of the structure, and his balcony faced the southeast. The sun's upper most edge shone over the horizon as dawn broke, chasing away the night. The mage drew in a deep breath, again feeling the ache in his scar.

He wondered how long the pain in his side would remind him of the night he fled his beloved home. Thinking of his household staff, he could only hope they escaped as he instructed them. Nodding to himself, he imagined them getting away. Thoughts of the others who betrayed him tried to seep into his mind's eye, but he pushed them away, unwilling to give them the time to put him in a foul mood. It was a new day, and he determined it would be a good one. He stood on his balcony for long minutes, wearing his loose fitting nightclothes.

The masters of the mage stronghold welcomed him warmly, even though he was mostly a stranger to them. His registration as one of their order helped; the mages never turned their backs on one of their own. Not across worlds that viewed them with suspicion and over the course of history, outright hostility and persecution.

Strength came in numbers, and every member of their order was important to them. Only a small percentage of people in the population even possessed the potential to wield the arcane, a smaller portion gained a practical proficiency in the arts, and even less ever reached the level of a master.

When Shydler arrived, bearing his wound and dressed in robes designed for combat, the masters immediately took him into their care. The older woman, who the apprentices first alerted, immediately felt and recognized the immense, concentrated arcane energy within him. The saturation was intensely powerful, and only a dedicated practitioner of their art could master the mystical currents at that extremity. After calling for a cleric and tending to his wounds, she summoned the other masters. They decided to house him in the levels reserved for one of their own.

Turning from his place on the balcony, Shydler set about preparing himself for the day. A warm shower made him feel better. After cleaning up, he found a hot breakfast of eggs, ham, buttered toast, and fresh fruit juice in the masters' dining hall. Numerous thin windows allowed the morning sun to shine inside the long room. Only a few of the masters were awake so early, and Shydler sat alone as the rest ate quietly, immersed in their various books.