The Forbidden Spacemage Read online

  The Forbidden Spacemage

  Dan Oakley

  Copyright © 2018 Dan Oakley

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

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  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Author’s note

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  It was still dark when I was woken by hammering on the door of our log cabin. Wrenched from my dreams of space battles and fighting pirates, I blinked into the darkness. My dreams were always the same, filled with a yearning to travel to the stars, but as a lowly Terrano peasant that was not in my future.

  I lay still for a moment, my ears straining to hear any foreign sounds, but only heard the whistling wind whipping around our home.

  Had I imagined the noise?

  Again someone banged against the door. This time I heard a female voice crying.

  Pushing back the rough, woolen blanket, I got out of bed and strode to the door. It was dark as pitch but I’d know the layout of this cabin blindfolded.

  “Tomas, who is it?” Maureena called from her own bedroom. “Does someone need help?”

  Maureena was a healer. Magic ran in her veins, and as it happened, I had some of that despised magic blood running through my own veins. That was why we’d both been shunned by the villagers. They’d chased me out of the village with fear in their eyes when I was no more than a child.

  As an eleven-year-old boy, I’d been lost in the wilderness until the old woman took pity on me and welcomed me into her home. She told me to call her Maureena.

  For over a decade, we’d lived alone in our cabin in the woods, and kept to ourselves for the most part, unless someone needed our help or we had to trade in the market.

  I refused to help the villagers. They were hypocrites. I didn’t like to use my magic and hated that it made me different. Maureena had a kinder heart than me and could never refuse a request for help.

  “I’ll go,” I said. “Stay in bed.”

  She was too old and frail to be woken in the middle of the night. Already, I was annoyed at whoever was knocking at our door.

  The fire had burned low in the grate, but the cabin still held some warmth. When I opened the door, the frigid wind threatened to rip it from its hinges.

  But it wasn’t the wind that stole the breath from my lungs. It was the sheer audacity of the woman standing in front of me.

  Lucillia Graemme. Her cheeks were red and chapped, tears streaked her face and clamped to her bosom she held a pile of rags.

  Her mouth opened but the words died on her lips. Maybe it was shame that stole her tongue. Maybe it was the fierce look I gave her.

  I’d grown up with Lucillia. We were in the same year at school and she’d teased me mercilessly. She and others like her were the reason I’d been driven away from my home aged only eleven.

  “Please…” Lucillia begged, her eyes wide as she offered me the bundle of fabric in her arms.

  It was then I realized a baby was wrapped in those rags. Still glaring at the woman who’d put me through hell when I was just a child, I stepped aside so she could enter.

  I’d happily let her freeze on the hillside, but the baby was innocent.

  I closed the door behind her, muffling the howling wind, and she slumped back against the wooden wall. “You must help. He’s not breathing properly.”

  Objecting to her use of the word must, I narrowed my eyes. “What do you expect me to do?”

  “Use your magic to heal him. You’re a mage there must be something you can do.”

  I shook my head slowly. It was true I’d been born with magical abilities but they were raw and untamed. I’d never had any lessons, stubbornly refusing Maureena’s attempts to school me in the arts.

  “I can do nothing to help.” I was gratified to see the pain on her face, but when I glanced down and saw the infant struggling to draw breath, my satisfaction was replaced with concern.

  The tiny baby struggled and gasped for air.

  “What have we got here?” Maureena said, walking stiffly towards us and tying her robe.

  “Nathanium, my baby. He can’t breathe. He got sick last week and tonight he’s much worse.” Lucillia turned her beseeching eyes on Maureena.

  Maureena frowned and pushed a lock of grey hair out of her eyes before examining the baby. “You should have come to me earlier.”

  “I couldn’t. Magic is outlawed.”

  “But you come to us now.” The words left my throat in a snarl, and Maureena put a calming hand on my arm.

  I pulled away. Lucillia had no qualms about making my life a misery when I was a boy and now she wanted us to risk our freedom to help her. If we were discovered using magic, we would be taken to the institute for correction. No one ever came back from there. There were rumors a team of inquisitors visited planets searching for mages. It was a dangerous time to be a mage.

  I built up the fire as Maureena worked on the child. She tried herbal drops and poultices but to no avail. The child was losing his fight to live.

  In silence, I watched the flickering flames, waiting for the inevitable, but still Maureena worked on Nathanium, refusing to give up. After an hour or so passed, Lucillia sat in Maureena’s rocking chair, without invitation and sobbed.

  The child’s breaths grew weaker and weaker.

  “Tomas, I need your help,” Maureena called to me.

  I turned, conflicted. I’d sworn never to use magic intentionally, but how could I refuse when an innocent baby could die?

  Finally, I nodded. Holding a candle to light the way, she led me into her bedroom and pushed the bed aside. She set the candle on the floor and leaned down. Her bony fingers felt along the cracks in the floorboards.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “The runes.”

  My jaw dropped. “You have runes? But they’re forbidden. We could lose everything.”

  Maureena’s stubborn eyes met mine. “I haven’t used them in decades, but the baby needs strong magic to survive. He is past the point where my herbal concoctions can help him.”

  The wood creaked as she removed two loose floorboards and then struggled with something heavy beneath them.

  “Let me,” I said, moving beside her and putting my hands into the dark hole.

  My fingers made contact with smooth, cold metal. The object was heavy, but years of chopping
wood and outdoor work had made me strong. I lifted the shiny metal box and placed it on the floor beside her bed.

  Transfixed, I stared at it. The metal was engraved with runes and patterns, which almost seemed to glow in the candlelight. Shaking my head, I looked closer.

  There was a padlock at the front, securing the lid.

  I closed my hand around it, and the metal seemed to warm beneath my touch.

  “It is a magical lock, Tomas. Only I can open…” She trailed off as the lock clicked and came undone in my hand.

  She stared at me for a long moment, before lifting the lid. “You possess strong magic, Tomas. You must be careful. If the inquisitors discovered your abilities, they would take you away.”

  I raised an eyebrow but made no comment. I wasn’t the only one taking risks here tonight.

  The runes were not as impressive as I’d expected. Small, pale stones carved with symbols sat in the box. I reached for one with wavy lines etched on its surface, expecting it to feel warm in my hand, but it felt cold. It was no different from the normal large pebbles I’d seen a thousand times by the riverbed.

  “Bring them to the child,” Maureena said.

  I followed her out of the room with the heavy box. Lucillia still sat in the chair, crying and rocking gently. I set the box beside the baby and watched Maureena perform her ritual.

  She selected a stone from the box, stroked its smooth surface and whispered some words I didn’t recognize. To my surprise, the marking began to glow a pale orange and she held the stone above the baby’s chest.

  “What is she doing? Is that black magic?” Lucillia asked, sitting up in the chair and paying attention.

  “Quiet.” I waved my hand at her.

  The process seemed to require great energy. Maureena’s hands shook and the stone moved about wildly. Her breath was hoarse and raspy.

  She broke off, panting, then tried again.

  This time, the stone slid through her fingers to the floor.

  She put her head in her hands. “It’s no good. I cannot do it. I’m too old, too rusty.” She looked up at me. “Tomas, will you try?”

  “Me?” My eyes widened as I shook my head.

  “You must!” Lucillia ordered.

  There was that word again. Must. I turned on her. “I owe you nothing.”

  Lucillia began to sob.

  “Please, Tomas. It may not work but we have to try.” Maureena looked down at the child. “He is only a babe.”

  Reluctantly, I reached for the stone and turned it over in my hands. “What do I have to do?”

  “You must focus. A single thought. Let nothing interfere.”

  “A single thought?”

  “Yes, think of Nathanium healing, getting well. See him healthy again in your mind’s eye and hold the stone close to his body.”

  It was a lost cause. I’d turned my back on magic long ago. But how could I refuse?

  I held the stone over the baby’s chest, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I pictured the baby breathing easily, imagined the fever leaving his flushed cheeks. Was it my imagination or did the stone vibrate in my hand? A warmth flooded my body, a feeling akin to sinking into a hot bath.

  “What’s happening! What are you doing to him?” Lucillia’s shrill shriek cut through my focus.

  My eyes opened and I saw the stone had turned into a fireball of orange flames, complete with sparks and crackles, but my hand was unharmed. I stared at the light show in my palm in disbelief as Maureena chastised Lucillia.

  “You must let him concentrate. Stay silent if you want him to save your boy. Try again, Tomas,” she urged.

  I closed my eyes and pictured Nathanium healthy and well. At first, it took great effort. My arms, toned and muscular from hours of physical labor, trembled from the effort of holding the rune above the baby’s chest.

  Then I settled into a rhythm, feeling the energy flow through me to the rune and then to Nathanium. I saw the baby smile, then laugh. In my mind, I saw him grow into a strong young boy, running and playing with his friends. I lost track of time.

  Maureena’s hand stroked my cheek and brought me out of my trance. “It is done.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I thought she meant Nathanium was lost, but when I looked down, the infant was cooing happily, waving his fists.

  “We did it?” I looked at Maureena who was smiling.

  “You did it, Tomas. This boy lives thanks to you.”

  Lucillia and Nathanium stayed with us until first light. Out of concern for the youngster, I offered to escort them to the village. It was a two-mile trek and there were bears and wolves in the area.

  Lucillia tied Nathanium in a sling to her back and as we walked she looped her arm through mine. I was still jubilant from our success with the runes. It had put me in a good mood, so I didn’t pull away.

  How could magic be bad when it produced an outcome like that? I’d saved a life today.

  Lucillia ran a hand over my bicep. “I do not know how I can thank you, Tomas.”

  “Just keep quiet about it. If anyone finds out, we could be in a lot of trouble.”

  “I won’t tell a soul.” She gave me a sly sideways look and stopped at the base of the hill. “This is close enough.”

  We were in sight of the cabins and brick buildings on the outskirts of the village. Curling smoke rose up from the chimneys, and I guessed she didn’t want to be seen with me.

  That shouldn’t have annoyed me. But it did. I knew what Lucillia was like. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

  I stayed out of view and waited for her to make her way safely into the village then turned, preparing to head home.

  Many times since that day, I’ve thought back and wondered if I could have done anything differently. Then again, nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.

  Chapter 2

  I returned to the cabin and started on my chores. Using my woodcutter’s axe, I split logs of seasoned wood from our store. Before long, I’d settled into a steady rhythm. I took pride in my tools, which made the job easier. The axe was sharp, and the blade was well-cared-for.

  Despite my protests, Maureena left the cabin and prepared to head to the village. It was market day, and we needed fresh supplies.

  She loaded up the cart with weaved baskets and clay pots. At one time, she’d told me, when it was still permitted to sell her herbal remedies as medicines, her stall was the busiest of all on market day. Folks came from miles away for her tonics and potions. She spoke of that time with a wistful look in her eyes.

  It seemed strange to me. I couldn’t remember a time when magic in any form had been permitted.

  “You should let me go to the market instead,” I insisted. “You must be worn out after last night.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tomas.”

  She had a point. The last time I’d gone to market, things didn’t go well. It wasn’t my fault exactly, but I had to admit I did have a knack for attracting trouble.

  It had started with the usual side glances and whispers and escalated when a group of men deliberately taunted me by smashing one of the pots I’d brought to trade at the market. My temper spiked, and I’d gotten into a brawl.

  Nucandilli Graemme, Lucillia’s brother hated me. If I so much as looked his way, he flipped out. He enjoyed raging at me and thought it made him seem tough and superior to make me look a fool.

  He’d swaggered up to me with his cronies, grabbed a pot and let it drop onto the ground. The stout, round pot was well made and sturdy and didn’t break. Nucandilli narrowed his eyes in irritation and kicked it.

  I held my breath. Counted to five. I swear I did all the things Maureena told me would keep my temper in check, but it was no good. My fists clenched at my sides.

  “Pick that up,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He and his group of thugs laughed at me.

  I felt the first flicker of heat, like flames chasing their way
along my skin. “Pick. It. Up. I won’t tell you again, Nucandilli.”

  Delighted he was getting a reaction, he turned to his friends and laughed. “You won’t tell me again? Pray, what will you do, Tomas, Mage of Terrano Alpha?”

  He was mocking me of course. Terrano Alpha was the district we lived in. There was no such thing as a mage of our district. Mages were outlawed.

  I didn’t bother to reply. Instead, I let my fists do the talking. I vaulted over the stall, but he was ready for me, hands raised for combat.

  If it had been me versus Nucandilli, the tussle would have been over in seconds, but when I lunged for my enemy, his friends set on me. Fielding off their jabs, I pursued Nucandilli through the market, overturning a basket of duck eggs as a stall owner screeched at me.

  I paid no attention as I splashed through the puddles dotted along the muddy ground. Nucandilli would pay for his disrespect. Chickens squawked and flapped their wings as we darted around the market stalls.

  Some traders called out insults and others entreated us to stop making such a ruckus. Even the ones shouting jibes kept their distance. I was well-built and tall, but I suspected it was my magic they feared rather than my strength.

  I ducked beneath some cotton sheets hanging on display and came face to face with the cowering Nucandilli. He didn’t look so cocky now.

  “Apologize,” I ordered.

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, backing away.

  He tried to run, but I was faster. I was almost upon him when a spectator’s boot shot out in front of me. I tripped, falling flat on my face in the mud.