Blue Mage Equinox

By Cleave Bourbon

Arran had a sheltered life among the witches of the Citadel, until an incident with the witch seer exiled him out into the world on his own.

With the help of a traveling minstrel, he learned to fend for himself against forces bent on taking

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shadesilver Publishing
• Release date: May 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088159965

Cleave Bourbon

Cleave Bourbon is a native of Texas. His Texas heritage and his love of science fiction and fantasy allows him to write weird westerns among other fantastical stories. In fact, he has loved all things fantasy since he read the Belgariad by David and Leigh Eddings in High School. He says the word "fantasy" comes from fantasizing, so the sky is the limit on what fantasy can encompass as far as writing goes, so he isn't afraid to experiment and write new twists to liven up old tropes. Being that he holds both a B.A. and an M.A. in English, he writes full time and teaches in his spare time. He teaches Junior High and High School level grammar, vocabulary, and writing online. He says he will never stop writing and he will never stop teaching, unless he becomes physically unable to do so. He currently resides in Texas with his Tortoise Shell Cat, Khaleesi.

Book preview

The cold breath coming off the mountains blew in a storm Gunnar had not seen in years. Lightning forked through dark clouds as midday turned to evening. It was so dark it appeared twilight in the middle of the day. Gunnar nervously paced in front of the animal hide tent where his wife, Iyana was giving birth. He looked up at the angry sky and prayed to the great spirits that the storm does not impede the midwives as they assisted his beloved wife. The wind picked up and the tent flapped violently. Gunnar circled the tent and checked that it was secure. He had checked the tent at least ten times in the last hour. He winced every time his wife screamed and moaned. She sometimes cried out louder than the thunder clapped. He was worried like any father to be but he was also comforted that this day was the equinox, when night and day were the exact same length, a special day among his people.

The midwife exited the tent. Her face was ashen and worried. She found Gunnar pacing back and forth not far from the tent.

There you are, She said, I wanted to give you an update on the progress.

Why what’s wrong? He said.

Oh nothing, she is having a tough time of it, that’s all. The midwife said.

That’s nothing? What are you not telling me? Gunnar asked.

The baby is turned backward. We’re trying to work him around.

What are their chances? How serious is this? Gunnar asked.

If we can’t get the baby turned, we may have to make a decision between saving the mother or the baby. The midwife said. Are you able to make that decision?

Gunnar looked at the midwife with dread, How could anyone make such a decision?

I realize this is not something to take lightly but you been on this earth long enough to know that life doesn’t always reveal the clearest path. Sometimes you have to choose the lesser of the two evils.

Gunnar put his head in his hands, go back to her and do what you can. Try to save them both for as long as you can and if the decision must be made I will make it then.

The midwife nodded, lifted her skirts, and rushed back to the tent.

The flashes of lightning became more frequent preceding accompanying crashes of thunder. The electoral storm was drawing nearer. The flashes of lightning in the crashes of thunder became more frequent and so it lasts they seem to be right above. The wind picked up threatening to blow the tent and pull up its stakes. Following a particularly loud crash of thunder, a bloodcurdling scream issued forth from the tent. Gunnar fell to his knees clenching his fists, I pray to you gods! Don’t make me choose between my child and my wife. Protect them both and I will serve you as no man has served you before.

The tent flap opened and a soot-covered midwife stumbled out. She was holding something wrapped in swaddling cloth.

Gunnar rushed to her. He looked into the face of his son and then back to the midwife, and my wife?

In all of my days, I have never seen the like. We were unable to turn him no matter how we tried. Tears begin to stream down her sooty face. We were coming to the point where we needed to make a decision but this little fellow made the decision for us.

What, what you mean? What happened? A frantic Gunnar asked.

In all of my days of midwifery and all of my training in witchcraft and as a woman I have never seen a child burn his way out of his mother’s womb.

What you saying?

I am saying this child, whether it was an act of survival or instinct, burned his way out of his mother’s womb!

So she is gone then?

I should say so. I don’t mean to be morbid but there was nothing we could do once the child entered the world.

Gunnar sank to his knees again. For the love of the gods, I didn’t mean this! He whispered, how could something like this happen?

Gunnar managed to return to his feet and look into the face of his son once more. The boy cooed and acted as any newborn child. I want to blame him but how can anyone blame a newborn? How could he possibly know what he has done?

The midwife handed Gunnar his newborn child, the gods of blessed you whether you realize it or not. The only child I can think of who would have such a power to do what he has done to bring himself into this world could be the elemental magic of the Blue Mage. If it is true then consult with the high priestess. She will know how to proceed from here. The old midwife rubbed her hands on her skirts, turned and walked slowly back to the tent.

Gunnar looked up to the sky and realized it was silent from the moment his son was born.

Gunnar had to wait several days before the high priestess came down from the Citadel, a sprawling fortress located somewhere in the mountains of Tamania, to consult with him. In the meantime, he had named his son Arran. Being part of the nomadic sect of witches, Gunnar had little to do with the protection of crops or in the protection of prosperity as the witches of the Citadel. But already the people of the nearby villages were hearing rumors of the infant child and how he cruelly mutilated his mother to come into the world. They had begun to fear the child would bring doom upon them.

The high priestess was aware of the unrest in the villages when she met with Gunnar one crisp evening at the foot of the mountains. She examined the boy for about an hour before she sat down to talk with Gunnar.

She sat sipping her tea occasionally looking Gunnar in the eye as if searching for the right words. Finally, she took one last sip of her tea, cleared her throat, and spoke in a very hushed tone.

He will have to be taught at the Citadel. It is my assessment that he is the Blue Mage and therefore a danger to the surrounding villages and their peoples. A witch with the power of the elements but without control over them is extremely dangerous as we have already seen with his mother. In the Citadel we can take the necessary precautions to guard against any accidental use of his gifts.

I will accompany him, of course?

If you wish. Far be it from the coven to deny access from the child’s father to his child. But be warned, sometimes in the course of instruction, and in the interest and safety of those surrounding him, our methods may seem harsh or even cruel. There will be times when you may not see your son for days. You’re not to interfere. If that is understood you’re free to accompany him to the Citadel.

I understand, Gunnar said.

From what I understand the villagers are already suspicious of the boy. It is in his best interest that we take the child to the Citadel straightaway. Gather whatever you need for yourself and prepare to leave at first light.

Forgive me high priestess, but I must ask. How do you know that my son is the Blue Mage?

I assume you mean other than the way he was born?

I know it may seem a foolish question to you but for my own peace of mind I must hear it from you.

Of course. I have no definitive answer to give other than my experience. Your son is not the first Blue Mage I have laid eyes upon nor shall he be the last. Suffice it to say I know the earthly powers when I see them. Now, I suggest prepare yourself for the long and arduous journey ahead to the Citadel.

Ephaltus tossed a piece of parchment into the fire burning in the hearth of the Earth Chamber, Blasted cheats! Marlee was sitting at the dining table with a plate of bacon and eggs, Remind me to recalibrate the Oculus again before you use it. I am not blaming you, but one of the god’s cronies has been spying through it while you have been watching the mages. I told you we must recalibrate it each time to keep the overly curious out!

What happened? Marlee asked.

Lesser gods or servants of the gods who watch rival god’s champions and rate them on their performance before the tournament have been spying through the Oculus. The information is used to help the gods know when to cheat."

How do you know? What was on the parchment?

I have a dryad tasked with keeping an eye out for anyone but us peering through that infernal contraption. She just gave me the report. He rubbed his bearded chin, Well, I suppose cheat is a strong word. It lets them know when to intervene so that their champion has the advantage.

Yeah, that’s cheating, Marlee said. How do they see through it?

Well, it isn’t easy, but the gods manipulate it for them. There are ways to detect their prying, I suppose I can’t get out of it. I was hoping to let you find out they look and cheat when you were on you own after I’ve gone, but I guess I should teach you how to detect them. He slapped his hand to his forehead in exasperation, the problem is that we are still far away from the tournament and the mages have not settled into their roles yet. Hells, the mages are downright ignorant at this point, he complained, Besides, as you’ve seen, the first year of mage reveals isn’t yet settled. You can’t get too attached or predict the outcome of any of them yet because the whole lot of them may change before the tournament. He walked to the table next to Marlee, Now do you see the importance of keeping things to ourselves while the stories of the mages play out?

What exactly did the parchment say?

Oh, there is a magic man, a minstrel named Zedy, who has ties with folks who support the Blue Mage. He will probably try to make sure the Blue Mage wins for Benera, the goddess of Tamania. I have met him before and even gave him a copy of one of the Blue Mage books from the Arsenal of the Way. He’s not a bad man, but I thought he would just watch the boy and evaluate him. Apparently, he was looking through the oculus and find out there is another contender for the Blue Mage. Now, he will try to manipulate the outcome.

Well, go stop him.

I can’t do that. Our concern is the mages. We have no concerns with the reviewers or the gods who sent them. They just complicate our jobs. It’s like the new Black Mage. It’s all so complicated now that her mother is the Red Mage. How will she act in the tournament?

If she makes it to the tournament. Marlee reminded him.

I get the feeling she will. The gods will thrive on her conflict.

What if the Red Mage decides not to participate? I saw what happened to her. What if she takes her own life or finds someone else to kill her and take her place?

That is a possibility. I doubt her patron god would allow it. She can’t kill herself for one thing, and if the gods continue to rate her as a threat, her patron god will likely keep her going. But it’s still very, very early. It’s difficult to rate the intensity of a storm from its beginnings as a fluffy white rain cloud. He pointed at her breakfast, Hurry it up. We have work to do.

Marlee ate the rest of her breakfast in two big bites and took one strip of bacon with her as she followed Ephaltus leave the Earth Chamber. The dryads scrambled to clean the table behind them.

Are the dryads your slaves? Marlee asked.

Ephaltus made a scoffing snort, No, what gave you that idea?

Well, they wait on you hand and foot and call you master.

"I didn’t ask them to wait on me or force it, they just do it on their own accord. The title of master is just short for Tourney Master. They used to call me tourney master, but