Lord Malorian was both insane and violent. He ruled the evil mages through tyranny and fear. Sitting quietly in the background and taking in all that occurred was a young wizard named Keenan Meadows. He was a powerful enough mage, considering that he wasn�t technically a master. He was also quite familiar with the mad lord�s volatile moods, since he�d had to endure them for close to three years now.
Under the old regime, he�d been wise enough to keep his head down and his mouth shut. Yarneraj had been known to quash powerful young wizards when they threatened his leadership. Now though, with Yarneraj walking the path of light and making amends for his misdeeds, the young wizard knew it would be impossible for him to stay completely under Malorian�s radar. He just hoped he would be able to survive his reign. With a little luck, the good mages would be able to overthrow him as they had Yarneraj. Barring that, one of the other evil mages may grow tired enough of Malorian�s treatment that they found the courage to kill him and put him out of all of their miseries.
Keenan stood up and quickly dressed in his magic robes. Once dressed in the soft violet robes, he closed his eyes and drew an illusion over him like a cloak. The spell made him look quite a bit taller, as well as enhancing his features so that they were less striking.
Lord Malorian had ordered him to come to the Great Hall this morning as soon as he was awake. He was not a man to be kept waiting. So, not even thinking about breakfast, the young wizard made his way quickly and quietly to the Hall. He paused at the large doors and, taking a deep breath to steal himself, he pushed one door open and peered in meekly. �You requested my presence, Lord Malorian?� he said quietly.
The insane mage looked up from where he was seated at the head of the room. �Keenan,� he said coldly. �Call me Master.�
They had gone through this for nearly three years now and the conversation never changed. Keenan stepped into the room and pulled the door shut behind him. �You killed my master,� he stated firmly, scowling in anger and frustration. �You�re nothing but a murderer and a usurper!�
As he always did, Malorian roared in fury at the younger mage. He threw a furious spell; knocking Keenan against the hard stonewall and shattering the protective illusion the younger wizard had set about himself.
As Keenan pushed himself to his feet, using the wall for support, Malorian crossed the room quickly to grab him by the front of his robe. �One of these days I�ll kill you for your insolence, boy,� he hissed.
Keenan swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, but didn�t break eye contact. One day, he might just work up the courage to attack the other with more than mere words. �What did you wish, my lord,� Keenan said meekly.
Malorian sighed deeply and shoved him back into the wall. �You used a spell to escape the good mages when you stole the Mask of Lord Shinta for Yarneraj,� he said softly. When Keenan nodded slightly, he added, �Teach it to me.�
Keenan sighed deeply and said, �Yes, my lord.� After three years of trying to avoid injury or death by this madman, he was fairly familiar with how Malorian thought. A slight smile came to the young wizard�s lips. If he taught Malorian the sticky-foot spell in just the right way, he might be able to rid the world of the man�s vile presence himself.
With this in mind, Keenan taught Malorian the incantation and the motions that had to go with it to activate the spell. Almost as an after thought, he added, �It�s not a good idea to use this spell to go down from great heights. It doesn�t compensate for acceleration due to gravity, so you steadily speed up as you go down. Unless you break the spell and do a feather-fall spell, you�ll�well, it won�t be pretty.�
�Fine, fine,� Malorian said impatiently.
Keenan knew he hadn�t really listened to the warning and smiled slightly. �Also,� he said. �For the same reason, you can�t use it to go up too high, otherwise you slow down to the point where you stop completely or it takes too much strength to continue.�
�Anything else, mageling,� Malorian snapped, shooting a hateful glare at the young wizard.
�No, my lord,� Keenan replied softly, finally lowering his eyes. However, though Malorian would never know, the gesture was not one of respect. The only reason Keenan was avoiding eye contact now was so that the madman wouldn't see the amusement in his dark eyes.
�Then get out,� the wizard growled, throwing a goblet at the wizard. Keenan sidestepped the projectile and then picked it up to set it one the table once more. Sighing in frustration, Malorian ordered, �Go about your duties.�
�Yes, my lord,� Keenan answered, whirling on his heel and scampering towards the door. �Use it in good health,� he muttered, as he opened the door and headed into the dimly lit corridor beyond. Once he'd shut the door behind him, Keenan pulled the illusion that Malorian had shattered back up.
**
Keenan was growing impatient and he was beginning to wonder if Malorian was ever going to use the sticky-foot spell that he'd made Keenan teach him. It had been several months now and the man was becoming more dangerous and volatile. With every passing day, he became more difficult for even Keenan to predict. Sighing deeply, he lowered the illusion that protected him from other members of the evil mages, or at least gave him some illusion of safety.
He sighed again and leaned against the window embrasure, starring up at the night sky. There were no clouds on this night, only the stars and the moon hovered overhead. Just as the young wizard was about to head to the small, filthy pallet he slept on, there was a ruckus from above him.
Keenan gasped and turned towards the sound, just in time to see the Lord Elder of the Good Mages Council go down the side the building on a pillow of air. It was just this sort of thing that had given him the idea for the sticky-foot spell. He almost smiled as the warlock alighted gracefully on the ground and then whirled around to look up at the wall of the tower.
A roar of rage echoed through the night and Keenan gasped, this time in fear rather than surprise. It took him a moment to realize that Malorian was outside the building, rushing down its side, not inside heading for his small cell.
The young wizard's heart leapt in his throat. Malorian was using the sticky-foot spell at last. Now, he just had to hope that the maniac would forget the words of advice he'd given and neglect to do the counter-spell.
Just after Malorian had sped past his window, Keenan felt the other man bringing up his will. He'd remembered the words after all. "No," the young wizard moaned. Without even being aware of what he was doing, he pushed the magic away from Malorian before the other wizard could cast the spell. A moment later, there was a sickening thud as the maniac crashed into the ground.
All was silent for a moment and then Keenan raced to the window. "Oh, God!" he moaned. "What- what have I done!" A small voice at the back of his mind said that Malorian would have one day killed Keenan, that he very likely would have killed Phillip then if he hadn't acted. However, the truth was still there. Magic was a matter of symbolism and intent and Keenan had known what would happen if he prevented Malorian from casting that spell. With one simple act, he had used his magic to kill another person.
Keenan hiccupped once and then crumpled down to his knees, sobbing softly. He was finally free of the madman who'd kept him living in fear for three years, his master's death was finally avenged, but at what price? Could he really call himself a "good mage" after this point?
A sound behind him interrupted his thoughts and Keenan looked up, wiping his eyes. There was light coming in from his bedroom door. "Y-yes," he stammered, pulling himself up to his feet and casting the illusion at the same time.
"I� heard shouting," an unfamiliar voice stated. "Is everything alright in here?"
Keenan turned to face the visitor and nodded. "I'm fine," he said in a quiet voice, hoping his tone would hide the catch in his voice. "L-lord Malorian is� he's dead. No one could survive a fall like that."
The visitor, a tall conjuror with red hair, nodded. "Means we'll have a new leader," he said. "Phillip escaped, but� he didn't kill Malorian, did he?"
"No," Keenan said, glancing back out at the night sky. "No, he's a good mage and they don't do things like that." The young wizard didn't hear what the conjuror said next, because his attention was drawn to a single cloud that chose that moment to cover the moon. The cloud, Keenan thought, was shaped vaguely like a woman. After a moment more, Keenan found that a slight smile had come to his lips, but he had no idea why.
"We're going to be alright, aren't we?" the conjuror asked, his words breaking through once more.
Keenan chuckled softly and turned back to the taller man. "Yeah," he answered firmly. "Yeah, I think we are." When he turned back to the window, the cloud was gone, like so many other things in Keenan's life. However, the feeling of peace remained. Somehow, he just knew that, while he had definitely not done the right thing on this dark, moonlit evening, everything would turn out for the best in the end.
End�
