Free Magician Prince by Curtis Cornett Page B

difficult times. It was how most
of them managed to survive outside of the kingdom’s control. Still
even knowing that it was probably all in his head, it was difficult
for Byrn not to trust those instincts. He was about to tell Sane to
be ready for anything when he noticed the wand held at the ready in
the old sorcerer’s hand. They nodded to each other and Byrn pushed
the door open.
    The room was as dark as the rest of the inn
had been except for a few rays of moonlight that made their way in
through the windowpanes. Kaleb sat facing the door and a man
wearing a brown traveler’s cloak stood above him. The boy was bound
to the chair, but the man held a knife pointed downward where
Kaleb’s neck and shoulder intersected.
    “Byrn Lightfoot, it is an honor; an honor to
bring you to justice that is. You don’t remember me? That is ok.
You were asleep the last time I saw you. My name is Donovan Pommel
and I was once a ranger captain under the service of your mother in
Everec.” His voice was even as his Kenzai masters would have taught
him. He took the sir name of Pommel as an apprentice to the Kenzai
Order. Their names were determined by their mastery within the
Order similar to magician titles with Pommel being the title of an
apprentice up to Bladepoint or the master rank.
    He continued, “I thought it was you that day
in the streets when you saved this boy, but I couldn’t be sure
until now. You hadn’t used any magic, but I could feel the energy
coming off of you then just as it does now. It is
unmistakable.”
    “This is the man who stabbed your mother,”
Sane whispered.
    Byrn nodded, but made no action. Donovan was
too close to Kaleb. Byrn could not react quickly enough if Donovan
decided to kill the boy and any rash action could prove to be
deadly. “What do you want?” Byrn asked.
    Donovan pounded his boot on the floor in two
quick strikes and several doors flew open in response. Kenzai
flooded out of the rooms until the hallway on both sides of the
magicians were thick with them. “I want your immediate surrender
for the boy’s life. Throw down your staves.”
    Byrn removed his cloak and let it fall to the
floor. Holding his arms out to the side so that Donovan could see
clearly in the dim light, Byrn told him, “I am unarmed.” He looked
to Sane and the elder man held out his arms in the same fashion,
but did not remove his cloak. The wand was safely tucked back into
his sleeve while all eyes were on Byrn.
    “I am as well,” Sane told Donovan.
    “You have done well,” a voice behind Donovan
told him in approval before stepping out from the shadows. “I would
expect no less.”
    “Kellen.”
    Sane pushed his way past Byrn into the room
to confront his former friend. For three decades Kellen and Sane
had been among the closest of friends. They fought together during
the Magi Rebellion in the Mainor Mountains and were instrumental in
securing a peace with the dwarves that lived there, but their
friendship ended when Kellen chose to side with the kingdom over
Sane and delivered the sorcerer into the hands of Warlord Nightwind
who then sent him back to Mollifas and Prince Janus. Ever since
then Sane lived as a slave and served the kingdom as a seer and
trainer of Janus’ magician army in between the prince’s torture
sessions. “Would you put me back in chains so soon, Kellen, after I
just escaped them?” He made no attempt to hide the indignity that
could be read in the shine of his one good eye in the sparse
moonlight, the way he held his chin high in defense, and the
tensing of his muscles in the baggy clothes Byrn had provided. The
old sorcerer was ready to fight and may have even welcomed the
opportunity.
    “Sane? By the goddesses what have they done
to you?” The knight’s hand reached out to the gaunt figure that
stood before him as if he were a ghost or some twisted dream
brought to flesh and blood, but he pulled away at the last moment
unable to touch Sane and confirm that what he was