Magic's Minister [COMPLETED]

Chapter Eighteen

Sedgewick hated the mountains.

Mountains loomed over you in judgment and entrapped you in their stony peaks; exactly like the Creator-forsaken village he'd grown up in had. Fortunately, this particular mountain was not his childhood stomping grounds.

Unfortunately, it was the home of a certain sorceress.

He scowled as the wind whipped through his red hair on his bare head. As much as it pained him to not wear his mages' hat, it wasn't worth the risk of anyone in the village below informing Bilara that a mage was in town. The woman doubtlessly had lackeys at her disposal.

Sedgewick pulled his dusty brown cloak about him tighter as he trudged up a half-abandoned path. Why did the woman have to live in a bloody cave? His scowl deepened as he expertly avoided a section of loose stone and used his mage's staff to pull himself up further. Gates, did he hate the mountains.

After several hours of climbing, he finally reached his destination. Bilara had a well-known entrance into her labyrinth of caves, but this one was her hidden, private one. He peered over a ledge at what appeared to be a flat cliffside and a deadly fall, but Sedgewick had been here enough times to know better.

The illusion was a clever one, but like all such spells, it possessed a "tell" that revealed its deception. For this one, the shadows of the spot below him did not quite line up with the matching cliffside further away.

Rather than wasting his magic by undoing the spell, Sedgewick reached his staff over the "ledge" and began tapping it to find the steps.

His staff thumped against the stone and he took two cautious steps forward, testing the path in front of him with each one.

The flat cliffside vanished as the narrow steps came into view, revealing a cave opening on a very small ledge. The path he was on was the only way over to it. Sedgewick pulled himself up short and looked over the side of the steps. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he nodded. Just as he suspected. Several violet-colored spell disks were pressed against the side. He had multiple theories of what they were designed to do and no desire to prove them correct. Clenching his staff in his hand, he backed up slowly. The steps vanished as the illusion returned. He couldn't waste his magic on dismantling them or on blasting over, which left only one option. He stepped past the illusion again and impressed the memory of the angle of the steps and the cave ledge in his mind.

Gates, this was going to hurt.

He rushed forward, slamming his staff into the second step and vaulting himself over the rest. As soon as his staff left the ground he twisted the ring that snapped open the blade on the end. Gravity took over as he fell towards the ledge. The blade pierced into the loose turf on the surface as his chest slammed against the ledge, knocking the air out of him. Sedgewick gasped for breath as his legs dangled precariously over the edge. His hands tightened on his staff and his feet kicked against the cliffside, sending bits of stone careening down to the ground below as he pulled himself up.

Sedgewick collapsed to the ground and rolled onto his back as he sucked in more air. He had been cushioning his back, so at least that was spared the pain the rest of him was in. Stumbling to his feet, he pulled his staff out of the ground and plunged into the cave entrance.

He was deeper inside the caverns now. Lamps hung from the ceiling, releasing an eery violet light over the tunnel. Bilara had once told him that this place had been an essantium mine, a stone known for its ability to store magic and the material from which spell disks were made. The mine had been incredibly profitable during the glory days of the Northlands before lost wars and inner turmoil had turned the country into a crime-infested shadow of its former self.

His shadow flickered across the wall as Sedgewick crept cautiously down the tunnel, his ears quirked as he listened for the slightest noise. Bilara's spell notes could be in any number of places. The thought of stepping into her personal chambers sent chills running down his spine and he couldn't quite remember where her library was. He did, however, remember where her research room was.

Sedgewick peered around a corner to ensure no one was there before creeping to the thick, wooden door that led into her research room. Bilara usually lived alone but when the mood struck her, she would recruit a half-trained apprentice or the occasional weak wizard for her amusement, only to kill them off once they'd served their purpose.

Thankfully, no one seemed to be in this section of the caves.

He cracked open the door and scanned the room. It too was empty, so he slid inside and gently closed the door behind him.

The room was enormous.

Roughly hewed stone made up the wall and vaulted ceiling. Wooden walkways lined the sides and led to another door. On the ground level, shelves and tables were strewn with papers and equipment that almost rivaled what he had at the ministry. A mosaic of rugs dotted the floor and a cozy fire pit had been carved into one of the walls. An elegant, expensive-looking settee stretched out beside it, providing a sharp contrast to the shackles and questionable instruments that lined the opposite wall.

Sedgewick bolted for the tables, venturing a quick glance at the room's upper exit as he ran.

He skidded to a stop by the nearest table and began shuffling through the papers and books like a madman.

They must be here somewhere, he thought, shoving useless charts and books to the floor. Where are they? 'A History of Black Magic', her latest updates to her petrification spell, another mind manipulation spell, my copy of First Age texts--

Sedgewick's blood ran cold as he shakily picked up the book. Due to the unknown and occasionally volatile nature of spells from the First Age, the few remaining texts could only be withdrawn from the Ivory Tower archives with the approval of a member of the Magiatic Council.

He flipped open the first pages and double checked the inscription on the inside.

Sedgewick,

You weren't nearly as poor an apprentice as I thought you would be. May this book aid you in your pursuit of greater knowledge. Do try to make something of yourself.

Don't muss this up,

Telvor

Rage seared his veins, lighting a fire inside him. Other than his hat, this book was the only thing he had left of the man who had trained him. It was supposed to be nestled in the safety of the Ivory Tower, only to be examined upon special request. How the gates did Bilara get her claws into one of his prized possessions?

Sedgewick flicked through the book in search of the leaflet that listed who authorized the withdrawal as his mind immediately began running through a list of council members. Tamara? No, the Archmage and he might not be on as good terms as they used to be, but she would never hand something like this over to a sorceress. Gaiven? Not even he was that much of an idiot. Darius, perhaps? The Northland's Minister of Magic did have a rather one-sided personal and professional rivalry with him but they had always been of one mind when it came to black magic.

His heart pounded as he finally found the leaflet. His eyes skimmed down to the newest entry. It was written in a thick, scrolling script.

Withdrawal approved by Master Sedgewick Alverdyne for temporary use by--

"Hello, Sedgewick."

The book slipped from his hands as his heart stopped at the sound of her voice right behind him. A pale arm snaked around his waist as she leaned closer and whispered in his ear.

"Did you miss me, darling?"