THE REAL LJ IDOL FRIENDS AND RIVALS -- WEEK 1.0 -- "Trust Everyone, But Cut The Cards"
FACELESS
It is customary for wizards to hide their pasts - to conceal who they were before they attained their power and prestige. This is done in an effort to protect themselves and any family they might have, as there are many who would quickly resort to blackmail and extortion in an attempt to force a mighty wizard to do their bidding. At a minimum most wizards change their names, frequently choosing alien words that only have meaning to the mage himself and/or whatever supernatural entity they might serve. However, some wizards go much further in this regard, and it has been claimed that no other Master of the Arts ever concealed their true identity as thoroughly as the mage who went by the name of Xerin.
Early in his career Xerin presented himself as a mercenary who was willing to perform virtually any service within his power… for the right price. During this period he had never been accused of directly cheating any of his clients, but he still acquired quite a few enemies in the process as his actions directly or indirectly impacted the plans of some rather powerful (and unforgiving) groups. As such, it could be said that Xerin’s unusual method of protecting his true identity was actually rather prudent. However, toward the end of his career Xerin rather sensibly publicly allied himself with the Imperial family, as they were the only force strong enough to protect the wizard from his many political enemies.
CUSP-OF-AUTUMN, 947 A. F. I. (After Founding of the Imperium)
Xerin, Wizard of the Eighth Circle and newly appointed Chief of Imperial Security, stood in the gallery overlooking the grand banquet hall of The Emperor's Keep. The room was filled to capacity; the raucous din of conversation was almost painful to the ears. The Emperor himself was acting as a gracious host to the delegations from the various city-states which bordered the empire. For the most part the diplomatic talks had proceeded well, and the majority of the border disputes had been settled amicably. However, the representatives from Negrano had been especially difficult and demanding. It did not help that the Lord of Negrano, the dark wizard Nendalt Sireson, had chosen to attend these meetings in person - Lord Sireson was a particularly temperamental man, and if anything he seemed to be spoiling for a fight... and Xerin was the only other person who knew why.
Xerin was a rather imposing figure, being six-feet-six-inches tall and almost cadaverously thin; it was rumored that Xerin used magical means to maintain this physical form in order to intimidate those around him, though no one knew for certain. However, the single most unnerving aspect of the man was the mask he constantly wore; it completely covered his face and had no holes for his eyes, nostrils or mouth, yet it did not impair his vision or breathing... but it was sculpted to display a visage completely devoid of emotion, and automatically modified his voice to a dull, flat monotone. No one knew what Xerin's true face looked like as he had not removed the mask in public for over 30 years.
Xerin watched as Lord Sireson excused himself from the banquet table, proclaiming that he needed to use the privy... but Xerin knew that was a lie the moment he saw Sireson glance upward at him in the gallery. The tall wizard exhaled slowly; he knew this day would eventually come, but he still did not feel completely prepared for it. Xerin turned to face the stairs as the black-robed man slowly ascended to the gallery.
Lord Sireson had a grim smile on his face as he approached the masked man. “You’ve done quite well for yourself since we last saw each other,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice filled with anger and disgust. “It’s been eight years, hasn't it?”
The voice emitted by Xerin's mask was unnervingly calm. “Closer to nine years. You are well, I trust?”
Lord Sireson spat and glared at the expressionless mask. “As well as can be expected! You've set back the plans of my Dark Master for at least a decade!” The black figure sneered at the taller wizard. “Why did you do it? Can you at least tell me that?”
The tall man paused before replying. “Even if I were interested in trying to explain, it’s obvious that you would never understand.” And with that, his mind wandered back to the fateful sequence of events which had occurred all those years before…
MID-SUMMER, 938 A. F. I.
Lord Sireson quickly glanced through the papers he had purchased from Xerin. “May I ask how you managed to acquire these?”
The flat, emotionless chuckle emitted by Xerin’s mask was more than a little unsettling. “If I told you, then the next time you need this sort of information you might try to get it yourself instead of hiring me to get it for you. It is far more profitable for me to remain silent on the matter.”
Lord Sireson nodded. “As much as I’d like to press you on the point, I understand your position. And though your price was steep, it appears that you have saved me quite a bit of trouble.” Sireson arched his eyebrows as he re-read one particular passage. “Quite a *LOT* of trouble, actually.” He rolled the papers up and turned to face Xerin. “Are you sure you won’t stay to dine with us before you go?”
The expressionless mask briefly swiveled side-to-side. “No, I’d much rather make an early start. I have a long way to travel, after all.”
Sireson nodded again. “As you wish. Again, it’s been a pleasure to do business with you.” After the two master wizards shook hands, Sireson’s two apprentices approached to pay their respects as well. Wolfram, the elder apprentice, walked up quickly to bid Xerin goodbye… then he stepped aside as Kurrik slowly limped forward; Kurrik's right leg was slightly shorter than his left due to a birth defect. Wolfram openly scowled at his teenaged rival; Kurrik was a full decade younger than him but was an unusually quick study, a trait which Lord Sireson mentioned to the envious Wolfram far too often for the elder apprentice’s peace of mind.
It should be noted that while it is normally quite easy for wizards to detect when people near them are speaking to one-another telepathically, the one exception to this rule is when the communicating parties are in direct physical contact. Thus, the other men in the room were blissfully unaware that Kurrik and Xerin exchanged the following thoughts while shaking hands:
KURRIK: “Where and when do I meet you?”
XERIN: “Outside the West Gate at midnight.”
As Xerin made his way outside, Kurrik returned to his room to prepare for the journey ahead...
It was a moonless night, and Xerin was able to keep himself well-hidden while he waited for Kurrik to exit Castle Sireson. As soon as the slowly limping figure appeared in the gateway, Xerin briefly allowed Kurrik to see him as he approached to make sure that the younger man wouldn’t cry out in surprise when Xerin grabbed him. As soon as the taller wizard made physical contact, he “spoke” telepathically again as he led Kurrik way from the gate: “You understand you can never go back.”
The younger man responded immediately. “I never want to. I regret ever getting involved with that lunatic, Sireson. I’m just happy that you immediately accepted my request for asylum.”
“No worries; my employer told me they suspected you might have a change of heart, so I was prepared for your offer when you made it.”
Kurrik physically frowned in puzzlement. “The Emperor knew I wanted to defect?”
Xerin chuckled softly. “No, my real employer… but I’ll explain later. Let’s get out of here first.”
Kurrik glanced around. “Where are the horses?”
“The other side of the mountain range to the north, an associate of mine left them there just two hours ago. We have a rough climb ahead of us, but so will anyone pursing us… and they won’t have a ride waiting for them once they get to the other side.”
Kurrik stopped and stared at the taller wizard, unable to believe what he had just been told. “You actually expect me to be able to travel quickly through a rough mountain pass with my bad leg?!”
Xerin’s mask swiveled once side-to-side. “No, of course not. Let’s take care of that matter now; we’re far enough from the castle that we can risk making some noise… but please try not to shout.”
Before Kurrik could respond, Xerin had already started casting a spell… and an instant later an odd sensation exploded in Kurrik’s right leg - though not painful it was so unexpected that he might have fallen over had the taller wizard not been physically supporting him. The sensation vanished almost immediately… and Kurrik was then amazed to discover that his right leg was now almost exactly the same length as his left. A few tentative steps proved that the change was not illusionary… and he found himself quickly adjusting to the new balance of the transformed limb.
Kurrik muttered quietly as he stared down at his right leg. “For all his supposed power, Sireson couldn’t do that for me.”
Xerin’s mask emitted a humorless chuckle. “I’m sure he could have done it… but it wasn’t in his interest to do so. His type like to control those around them, by whatever means necessary. But let’s get moving again; we have a long way to go.”
The pair made good speed for a while, but perhaps a quarter of an hour later Kurrik said “Stop for a moment! I appreciate what you did for me, but my leg’s still not quite right.”
“We can’t really spare the time for a thorough adjustment,” Xerin replied. “Besides, the best way to make sure the detailed adjustments are done properly is for the patient to cast the spell on themselves, and it would take far too long for me to teach you.”
Kurrik smiled. “Oh, you’d be surprised about that.” And with those words, the teenaged apprentice performed the appropriate incantations upon his own right leg… and immediately started walking noticeably more swiftly and steadily than before.
Despite the filtering effect of his mask, Xerin’s voice showed more than a trace of amazement. “You were able to determine how to cast that spell after seeing it performed just once?”
Kurrik grinned proudly. “Sireson only took me in because I'm so talented-”
At that instant both men were blasted to the ground by an explosive force - they had been engulfed by the flames of a mystic fireball, having been caught completely unaware by an unseen pursuer; neither one of them had noticed the shadowy figure which had silently followed them from Castle Sireson.
Kurrik and Xerin's crumpled forms lay still as their attacker approached. “Knew you were up to something”, Wolfram muttered aloud to himself as he moved closer. “Knew you couldn’t be trusted. Now, at last, Lord Sireson will treat me with the respect I deserve…” He quickly walked up to the nearer of the two bodies, which he discovered was now little more than a charred skeleton… and Wolfram took the time to smile down triumphantly at his handiwork. As such, he did not notice when the other body silently rolled over… and Wolfram was utterly defenseless when his second victim responded in kind.
Xerin faced Lord Sireson as the taller wizard recalled the events of that night so long ago. “I won’t deny that I killed Wolfram, though he didn’t offer me much choice--”
“Never mind about Wolfram!” Lord Sireson snapped. “He had long since reached the limits of his ability, and I was able to replace him easily enough!” Sireson lowered his voice, and whispered in a frigid tone: “I shall never forgive you for what you did to Kurrik! He had the potential to be a truly legendary wizard, and he could have helped advance my Dark Master’s plans in ways you cannot begin to fathom! I still don’t know how you managed to convince Kurrik to leave with you, Xerin… but I demand that you tell me why you killed him!”
Xerin’s mask was silent for several moments… until at last the monotone voice simply said: “I didn’t kill Kurrik.”
“DON’T TRY TO DENY IT!” Lord Sireson was practically screaming. “WE FOUND HIS BODY - WHAT WAS LEFT OF IT! LITTLE MORE THAN CHARRED BONES! WE COULD ONLY IDENTIFY HIM FROM WHAT REMAINED OF HIS BAD RIGHT LEG!”
“I didn’t kill Kurrik,” the masked wizard repeated. “Wolfram attacked both of us simultaneously with lethal force. I was only able to survive his assault because of the multiple layers of magical protection I had cast upon myself earlier... and I used exactly as much force as he did when I counter-attacked.”
This statement brought Sireson up short. “But… why would Wolfram have wanted to kill his fellow apprentice?”
A quiet snort came from Xerin’s mask. “I could plainly see the envy and hatred in Wolfram’s eyes whenever you compared him to Kurrik… and I’m more than a little surprised that you didn’t notice… or perhaps you simply didn’t care.” Xerin’s shoulders moved backwards in a shrug. “Either way, that’s hardly my fault.”
Lord Sireson glared upward at the taller wizard. “Even if I chose to believe you, you still tried to steal Kurrik away from me… and I shall never forgive you for that.” A cruel smile slowly formed on Sireson’s lips. “You’ve done quite well for yourself in the last nine years, getting cozy with the Imperial Family and all the protection that affords.” Sireson gazed down at The Emperor, still seated at the head of the banquet table. “Tell me, is His Imperial Majesty aware of our earlier business relationship?” Sireson slowly looked back up at the taller wizard. “I brought those papers that you sold me all those years ago, describing the defenses of the Imperial forts bordering my territory. I think I’ll walk back downstairs and show them to The Emperor right now. How do you think He would react to the news that you betrayed Him in such a fashion?”
The taller wizard stared silently at Sireson for a long moment before the monotone voice came from the mask. “Really, Sireson, I thought you were smarter than that. Haven’t you realized by now that those plans I sold you were fakes?”
Sireson frowned in surprise. “But they bear the Imperial Seal!”
“Which The Emperor applied Himself… just before He ordered me to give them to you.” The mask emitted an emotionless chuckle. “Nine years ago the forts in question were in no condition to withstand an attack from your armies… so The Emperor’s only option was to somehow convince you otherwise. I told The Emperor that I could sell you a set of plans that made those forts appear to be impregnable… and thus, not worth the trouble of attacking. I charged you just enough to convince you the plans were genuine… well, perhaps a bit more than enough.” That emotionless chuckle again. “And so, you never tried to attack those forts… giving The Emperor enough time to quietly upgrade them, and make them even more formidable than those fake plans claimed.” Another chuckle. “It worked so well that’s what finally convinced His Majesty to make me His Chief of Security.”
Sireson spluttered angrily. “You… You’re lying!”
“I’m not lying, though I have no way to prove it to you. And even if I am, there are only two ways for you to prove it: You can either show those plans to The Emperor and explain how you acquired them, or you can order your armies to attack those forts. Either way, you will have proven to His Imperial Majesty that you are determined to take those lands by force… and thus by definition you are an enemy of The Empire.” That damned chuckle again. “Even if I am lying… do you really wish to earn The Emperor’s wrath in either fashion?”
Sireson was dumbstruck for a long time. At last he said in a bitterly cold voice: “I swear that I will see you pay for what you’ve cost me!” And with that the black-robed man angrily turned on his heel and began walking back down to the banquet hall… even though he had completely lost his appetite.
It was only after Sireson was well out of earshot that Xerin quietly muttered to himself: “Tell me something I don’t already know…”
After the banquet had concluded, Xerin wearily made his way to his private apartments in the palace. He took his time bolting all the doors and shutters and making sure that all the anti-scrying charms protecting his inner sanctum were still working properly. He sat in his favorite chair and wearily slumped forward, physically and emotionally drained. He had managed to outwit Lord Sireson with bluff and guile... but he doubted he would be as fortunate in their next encounter.
His mind wandered back to the events of that night nine years before, and he was not especially proud of what he had done. He reminded himself once more that everything he did that night was necessary for him to survive, that Lord Sireson would have determined what had actually happened if he hadn’t taken such radical action … and though that statement was entirely true, he felt deeply ashamed about it. Not because he had taken a life - he could justify that as self-defense -- but because in order to cover his tracks he had been forced to desecrate the body of the man who had aided him in his time of need. He tried to tell himself that his travelling companion would have understood... but he was never quite able to convince himself.
And so, out of a deep-seated sense of guilt and shame, the wizard everyone knew as Xerin sat alone in his room as he removed the mask that he had taken from his fallen travelling companion nine years before; he also briefly undid the spell that increased his overall height and lengthened his right leg. He stood and limped to his mirror and gazed forlornly at his true face, a face he could never show safely in public again, the face of the man who had once been an apprentice to Lord Sireson.
It was the face of the man who had once been called Kurrik… but who would forever after only be known by the name of the dead man whose mask and identity he had taken for his own nine years prior. And thus, for all intents and purposes the man known as Kurrik may as well be dead... as he would only be known as Xerin for the rest of his days.
This post is an entry in THE REAL LIVEJOURNAL IDOL'S "FRIENDS AND RIVALS" Mini-season. Please read all the other entries by my fellow competitors by clicking here and here. Please vote for all the entries you enjoyed reading, including (hopefully) mine.