The Making Of A Wizard

[Justin Silverblade]

I have not given contribution to this end of the Pen for quite some time, and I think it's about time I did hmm? I mean, we can't just be writing poetry all the time now can we?

 

This is a little story I've been writing for a bit. It's nothing exciting, let me assure you. Its original purpose is actually a history for a DnD character I created and play (I've also used his name in Archmage a great long while ago), and so it has kind of a bio-graphy feel. But hopefully the first person view can make it a bit more exciting.

 

Anyways, I thought I'd post it. It's not horribly long - but long enough for me to have written lots, and not yet be finished. It'll come in two or three installments, I'm not sure which yet, but here's the first. Also largely unedited, I appologize if certain parts seem choppy, or if words are re-used too often.

 

All in all though, I hope you enjoy.

 

PS - I have edited some names of places and people simply because they were not relative to the story when it stood outside a "DnD environment" and they conflicted with... ironically enough, the names of some of the people I know. Why do I tell you? Well, just in case you feel that some of the names don't quite fit with the characters/places, that's why. Also if I screwed up, and someone/somewhere's name suddenly changes - that's why too.

 

PPS - Sorry for some of the formatting - it looks much better in my word-document. Just bare with it, and I'll fix it when I get the next installment up (too lazy to do it now)

 

Yours,

[Justin Silverblade]

Not all things come to pass as they are expected to – as they should. I thought that my story was one of them for a great while, until just recently. A simple boy, leading the fantasy of many, into the darkness unwanted. To lead a troop against the evils of the world. To fight and win! To find treasures of lost things and golden riches. To uncover the truths of the world with a solid blade, and an innocent heart. But those were the times, and that was the dream. To be an adventurer.

 

In the harsh winters of the north, where the imperial lands were strong and true, we survived by looking forward to the next season – the spring. It was a usual childhood grief, to have to ration our food carefully and watch as more snow fell from the white peaks. Those were the winters where we depended on our mother. She would put on a brave face, to endure the cold of the weather, and harshness of her children. We were not easy to bear, and equally not as easy to keep. With my father and older brother away to aid the more needy provinces, the house quickly became unruly.

 

But they came back, every spring, like water-clockwork determined to aid our town of Jardain in the repairs against the ice. That was the military’s way. The imperial way. Eventually the military soldiers who went and returned became the signs of winter and spring. We had no other device, nor reason to judge the seasons. A joke of the north I suppose, and one that foreigners did not rightly understand. After they came back, everything looked up and smiled, for we would make it through another year.

 

* * *

 

“And then, with a blast of light and sound the wizard extended his hand and together the heroes vanquished the evil dragon!” Gerard Heartsong finished, adding a spectacle of light and fireworks – as bards were known to do. There was laughter and clapping we enjoyed his story. Gerard was a local at our ale house, and often stayed the long winters there, fed and housed in exchange for entertainment. There was a group of us that came weekly to hear his adventurer’s song and story. Apparently Gerard was once a part of a very successful band, back in his day.

 

“Wow,” said Paul, one of my closest companions. “That was a great story Gerard. Can we hear another? Please?” His inquiry was met with a large out cry of begging, my voice was as loud as any.

 

“Yes Gerard, please?”

“Just one more?”

“You didn’t sing in that one!”

“One with fireworks again at the end!”

“Come on!”

 

The bard just laughed and waved his hands. “My, my, children. No, I’m afraid not today. You all know the deal: a story a week. I’ve got others to entertain, and food to put in my belly. Besides, don’t you all have chores to do?” We all fell silent. Yes, we did. “Well then, go on. Get to ‘em!” He shewed us off laughing. “Go on! Or I’ll tell your mothers!”

 

We all ran out into the street, laughter hindering our progress. The slow pokes got caught up by Gerard and tossed lightly into the snow bank outside. Paul and I grabbed snow balls and threw them as the bard tossed young giggling Jenny out the door. Paul’s hit firmly on the arm. This caught a glare from Gerard, and quickly, my friend found himself in a cold fix. “The snow banks’ll hold ya Paul,” Gerard yelled with a grin, “Don’t worry.”

 

I pounced on Gerard as soon as he bent over to nab Paul. “Oh you want some too, Tekkorin?” With a hand back he caught me too. ‘Poof’, he yelled as he tossed, though it sounded more like the snow bank talking, and all I saw was snow everywhere. Jenny was still giggling a sidestep away. I excavated my way out of the snow bank, snow ball in hand, and cold, cold face to see our whole small group slowly dragging the bard down. I caught Paul’s eye, and he too had snow in hair and hand. With a devilish grin we both nodded, and rushed him.

 

Moments later we all together tossed Gerard, and more laughter and clapping erupted. His own laughter and surrender started to disappear as he caught a glance down the street. “Well, I’ll be…” he said. Far down the street the flag could be seen – the imperial army. “Spring’s come at last,” and he smiled.

 

“Father!” Paul yelled, and our whole band ran down the street to greet the returning fathers and brothers.

 

There was always a mixture of feelings when the troops came home. Relief was the first and most apparent. It had been one of the most unrelenting winters in years, and worry grew as to whether it would ever end. In Jardain it was but a long haul, but in some of the smaller more northern villages, it meant a struggle between life and death. This led to a great sorrow within our village as well. Many did not return home – they had died with honour amongst the ice, defending walls and countryside from avalanche and blizzard. My eldest and only brother was one of them.

 

Silence gripped my home, aside from my mother’s constant sobbing. I comforted my adopted sister as best I could, though I hardly did a good job; my emotions were too great. I hated my brother for enlisting, hated my father for encouraging him, and hated my mother for not doing anything to stop him. The imperial way. Simple thoughts plagued my mind more than any sound logic. My father consoled me in the only way he knew how – through preaching the honour of my brother’s actions, and the goodwill of the Imperial Army. “If it weren’t for us, many, many more would have died, son. It’s something you’d realize, if you weren’t so busy being stupid.” Compassionate old dad.

 

But I didn’t hate him for it, really. It was an old rivalry that we had had since I was old enough to carry a dirk. I wanted to travel the world, and be an adventurer with Paul, and Jack (young Jenny’s brother). Together we’d find riches and fun. My father wanted his sons to be like he, and his father before him: Imperial troops. When my brother Darren enlisted two years prior, we managed to put the old grudge on hold. I was afraid that now, it would erupt again.

 

I would suppose that my short life started then, at the age of 14. Young enough to still be foolish; old enough to act on it. We sat around the dinner table, breaking bread. The candles bent low on their wick. My father was at the head of the table, as always. My mother to his right, and Darren’s chair, an empty chair, to his left. Beside my mother: Julia, my year younger adopted sister, and I sat across from her. It had been a quiet meal for some days now. Finally I had the nerve to speak.

 

“Father… how did he die?”

 

There was a long pause, and my mother’s eyes brimmed with tears once more.

 

I saw fear in Julia’s eyes when she looked at me; afraid of where this would go. She shook her head, and mouthed ‘No’ to me. I think it would have been wise of me to take her advice. But I was not wise. I asked again.

 

“I mean, father, what-“

 

“I know what you meant, son.” He nodded, and took another drink from his ale and sighed. “We were in the most northern provinces – closest to Atkatha – where the winters are the coldest, and the winds are the harshest. We got caught in a storm, roughest I’ve seen my boy, and that’s saying something. Crossing over, we came to a deep ravine. I ordered my troop across, but the bridge was too weak, we had to go around. Your brother didn’t have the stamina, and we could only carry him for so long.”

 

I took a moment to myself, to consider where this was going, and I saw tears fall down the worn lines in my mother’s face. For some reason that drove me forward. “So what did you do?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

 

“What do you think we did son? I had my whole troop to think about. Running low on rations, and the nearest city 3 days away, we had to drop him, and two others. It was them or all of us.”

 

No one else would speak to this, which I thought was an outrage at the time. My sister shook her head and nodded. Julia had always liked Darren, and gotten along with him far better than she and I, yet she said nothing. I charged forward into the cavern. “So you just left them there? Did you leave them anything? Supplies, blankets, rations? Didn’t you go back for them? Father, forgive me, but where’s the honour in leaving my brother to die?”

 

Anger brimmed in my father’s eyes for my last comment. “Yes, son. I left them there. No, I did not leave them anything. Our food and supplies were not to be wasted on the dead. We knew that, and so did your brother. Of course we went back for them, but that was 6 days later - it had snowed so much that we couldn’t even find where we had left them. And don’t you speak to me about honour, child. I had 17 other men to think about. Don’t you EVER disrespect your father, or your brother like that. When you join the military you’ll understand the sacrifice that-“

 

Julia begged quietly not for me to say anything, but it was too late, I was there already.

 

“I’m not joining the army dad…”

 

My father, the Sergeant, caught his tongue and stared at me with his gaze. “I thought we had settled this.”

 

“Well, you might of thought so, but I didn’t.”

 

My mother could not hold back her silent sobs any longer, and Julia comforted her, whilst my father and I butted heads.

 

“You will join the Imperial troops when you’re sixteen, just like your grandfather, his sons, and your brother. Just as the Queen commands.”

 

My legs were quivering, and my heart was pounding. “No. I don’t want to live my life in some dusty old barracks.”

 

“This is not up for discussion.” My father calmed down, and took another chug of his ale. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

 

“Too bad, dad,” I said, fed up with this discussion as much as he. “I understand now, and I don’t want to. I don’t care what you want, and I don’t care what you think the damned Queen wants. I won’t follow in the-“

 

“What did you say?” My father’s rage came back to him when he heard my blasphemous words. While I respected our queen a great deal, the military had idolized her. I knew I had stepped over the line.

 

“I-“

 

My father stood and pointed towards the door. “Get out. Don’t come back until you’ve cooled your head.” I hesitated. “I said get OUT!”

 

I didn’t contest my father’s will, and amidst the soft sobs of my mother, I grabbed a fur and hurried out the door. I found my way up to the tavern rooftop, which was where many of my friends played out our thoughts. I had hoped that someone would be there, but it was a quiet, and clear, night. The stars were especially bright that night. As I looked up at them, they felt somehow… familiar. A scent of lavender crossed the breeze, which was especially strange given the season. But my mind was far too cold and clouded to put any thought into it.

 

I would not join the army. I wanted to travel, wanted to pick up a sword and hunt out the corridors of ancient dungeons. Gerard was often pinned as ‘one of the last adventurers’ for no traveler came to our village that was not already imperial. Rumor had it that our Queen had sealed the borders to our kingdom for our safe keeping. I wanted to be like Gerard. Steel and savvy.

 

My thoughts were interrupted by a queer sound – wind chimes. Jenny and Jack’s father in the village made them out of wood in the summer. Contraptions that made sounds when the wind would blow. I turned around to find the source of the sound. I saw nothing for a great while, but finally the cold betrayed a figure, and I saw his breath rise above the rooftop.

 

“Paul, don’t just stand there, get up here,” I laughed and tossed some of the snow down his direction.

 

The figure climbed up into view and revealed himself as my good, grinning friend. “Hey. How’d you know it was me?”

 

I shrugged. “No one else has so much hot air,” I laughed. He punched me.

 

Paul followed my gaze up to the stars. “These again? Still hoping that adventure will just jump into your lap?”

 

“Fought with my dad.”

 

“Oh.”

 

I chuckled on the inside for a while and stared at the sky above. Eventually the icy chill wore through my fur. “I’m tired Paul.”

 

“Yeah, it is cold.”

 

“No. I’m tired of being here. Jardain’s cool, but I want more. I want to travel, to see the world. Think of it, Paul. These stars must look so different in Karnesh.”

 

“Where?”

 

I laughed on the inside again. I loved Paul, he was a great guy, but sometimes a little ignorant. “Karnesh. It’s in the south, I think. Gerard said he’d been there. We could go farther than that though, all the way to the seas. You know how to swim. I’d like to meet a ranger, and a wizard.”

 

Paul nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know about going that far though Tek. What’s wrong with staying close to home? I’m sure the Empire’s got plenty of damsels that I could save.”

 

Now I laughed out loud. “Ha! You save damsels, Paul? They’d be saved by orc before they’d let you touch ‘em. Now me on the other hand…”

 

“Ya, you on the other hand,” Paul punched me again, “Couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. I doubt you could even carry the gal out of the dungeon.”

 

“Ow.” I rubbed my arm. “Watch it.”

 

“Wuss.”

 

“But,” I sighed, “Together we could do it Paul. You and me,”

 

He nodded. “And Jack too.”

 

Something stirred in me that hadn’t before, Paul too. “You suppose Jack is serious?”

 

“We could ask,” Paul looked me in the eye. “Are you serious Tek?”

 

I hesitated and thought back to my father. He would have me go his way or no way at all. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

 

It wasn’t a new plan. Hardly. In fact we’ve plotted what it would be like for several years now, even at our young age.

 

Paul would be the sword arm. He was always stronger then I, and eventually he’d teach me how to wield a short sword – like his father had taught him. Any lifting, any fighting, and any protection that we needed, that was him. With him by my side I feared no task, no monster, and no cave. Since I had known him, he had been ready for a fight, fame, and riches. A true Imperial.

 

I would be the brains of the operation. I’d find out where to go, when, and how. An interest I had, was to have an iron grip on everything, and I knew that Paul would let things slip eventually if he were in charge. Also, I could create contacts, and make sure we were ok. I was always willing to learn anything Paul would teach me, and I had no doubt that would be a great many things.

 

Jack was our wild card. His father was the local trinket merchant, and Jack carried after the trade. I thought he was lots of fun, but Paul found his creed tedious – observant of everything and always fiddling. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Paul would say. That only encouraged Jack to tinker more. He would be our rouge. Dungeons always had traps, Gerard said that many times in his stories.

 

And so we split up, and it began to snow. Soft flakes, nothing of serious recourse for us young imperials. Paul was to grab Jack and find armaments for our journey. I was to plot our course and find rations. Easily done. Many cold nights around a cozy fire I had chatted with Gerard, and he told us that an adventurer’s welcome awaited travelers to the east, just off the path. Once he even indulged me with a partially drawn map. He threw it away afterwards, but little did he know that I had kept it from the trash; just in case. We were to reconvene at the city’s town square before the dawn.

 

I returned home slipped quickly to bed, or so my parents thought. Throughout the night I packed my small rucksack with some clothes and firs, and a water skin or two. Under candlelight I found and re-scribed Gerard’s map. Then I grabbed one of my dad’s tents and all of our camping supplies from when we were young. The night was a drab process which I won’t bother to take you through now.

 

I was just about ready to go when I heard a scuffling from my sister’s room. I cursed under my breath and waited silently in my room for her to go back to bed and sleep. Instead however, she came dressed in a tattered nightgown-robe to see what the ruckus I was making was. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

 

I was shocked. How could I tell my younger sister that I was leaving and never coming back? “I’m going Jewels. If father won’t let me be an adventurer, then I’ll go on my own.”

 

She sighed, and to my surprise, nodded. “Okay. I think it’s dumb though. There’re scary things out there. Dad said that. He said that if you were an adventurer you’d never stand the frost, and wouldn’t know where to go. He said that if you left you’d be stupid and –“

 

“I don’t care, Jewels,” I cut her off. “I don’t care what father said. We’ll be fine though. Paul’s coming too. He knows how to fight. And I know where we’re going. We won’t be gone forever. I’ll be back. I just need some time away from father.”

 

“I know.”

 

Awkwardness set in, and I returned to my packing, my words caught in my throat.

 

“Tekkorin.”

 

“Yeah?” I turned to her.

 

“Don’t die, okay? Darren’s gone already. Mom needs you. She’ll be awfully hurt… I will be too.”

 

I smiled and shook my head. “I won’t, Julia,” I hugged her tight. “I won’t.” Tossing my heavy bag over my shoulder, and picking up the tent in one hand, extra supplies in the other, I set out as quietly as I could. Julia followed me to the door. “Take care of Mother and Father for me, will you? I’ll miss them both horribly. And you too. This is just something I have to do. I gotta ride the winds of Fate.” I winked and then began down the street.

 

At just under 14 years, she struck me as having less understanding of the situation than she likely had. Nonetheless it would be a discussion that I would remember for a great many years of my life. I could see her shadow in the glow of moon and firelight – she waited for me to be out of sight before she finally went back in doors.

 

I met Paul at the town square, he was without Jack. Later I would thank the Gods that this was true, but at the moment I was horribly disappointed. But there was no time to waste; the sky was starting to be brightened with a pre-dawn, and soon we would be discovered. Paul had been waiting for me for some time and had even swiped a horse from somewhere – I didn’t ask, just grinned.

 

“Help me load this stuff onto the horse,” I said, letting go of my heavy things.

 

We did in silence, and Paul seemed to know just where to put everything. I was glad one of us knew our way around a horse. When we were finished, I saw a tall wrapped cloth on the ground. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing.

 

Paul grinned again. He could never play poker with that face. He took the make-shift package and unraveled it. “A short sword for me, and a dagger for you,” he said, handing me the dagger, and promptly attaching the short sword and sheath to his belt.

 

“Why do I have the dagger?” I asked, pouting.

 

“’Cause there’s only one short sword, and it’s from my house.”

 

“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Ok, but you still have to teach me it – there are plenty of blacksmiths in the Empire. One of ‘em will want to toss out a short sword.” I sheathed my dagger, boosted Paul up onto the horse. I took a lasting look back onto the village. Many friends, and many memories were being left behind here, and one day Paul and I would walk back into the village with riches. We’d be famous, or so I thought.

 

“Tek, come on, the stable boy comes ‘round in about an hour. We gotta go!” Paul extended his hand, and helped me onto the horse, and without a second glance, we rode off to the east.

 

We rode and rode and rode. In the Empire it is difficult to explain the sunrise. They say that it is half the reason that some enter the army – though true imperials would never admit it. When the sun rises it splashes glory onto the land with a fire and warmth, and if you are on the land with purpose, you are not exempt from such splendor. Paul and I rode into the sun for hours. Eventually we rode off the path and began to follow my map. It was not incredibly detailed, but we managed through the thick forests.

 

Time passed slowly, and by the end of the day we felt that we had made considerable progress. With the sunset, we were beat, and simply had to rest. Paul helped me set up the tent, and we went straight to bed. It was a cold night. I had nightmares of various things; I remember that night as one of the most clear in my life. I don’t think I had a wink of sleep. But that was an adventurers way I thought, and any idea I had of returning home because of it vanished when I awoke the next morn, to see that Paul had managed to make a fire.

 

“We need to head due south for a bit now, Paul.” We cooked some of our perishable rations and boiled some snow. Finishing quickly and making light conversation packed up and rode off.

 

It was fun: a whole new experience. We slowed down much more than we planned, but the world was our kin, and we were ready for adventure. The journey was uneventful for several days, we even began to loosen up and not worry about being caught by our parents. But, our parents turned out not to be our problem. Twilight shown, and soon the darkness was going to set in. Paul and I were looking for a good camping site, and I remember distinctly that I was in the middle of making up a horrible song when it happened.

 

“Hey ho! Ho hey!

We’re off to go,

To see a show,

We set out on the cool spring day.

 

“We’ll climb towers, and save the girl,

We’ll dig holes, and find the gold,

We’ll-“

 

“Hey Tek,” Paul interrupted me. “Did you hear that?” I feel silently, and we could both hear the crunching of the old snow. Slowly it crept inward. We both strained to see through the thick of the forests, but could see nothing.

 

We both jumped down off our horse and Paul unsheathed his sword. “Who’s there?” I asked.

 

No answer, save for the continued creeping of footsteps. We stood there for a great while, and finally, Paul looked at me and said, “Let’s go.” He gave me a boost onto the horse when we heard the hi pitched screams and yips.

 

A small band of goblins emerged from the forest. “Paul! Look out!” Paul turned around in time to lock blades with a couple of them. Some had little knives, others were unarmed, and none seemed to have any armour. Small green monsters that at one day may have resembled humans, they prayed on the weak to continue their survival. Paul fought and slew a couple, but for ever one he took down there seemed to be another two to take their place. Finally seeing Paul begin to take blows, I jumped off my horse and in a blaze of fury set aside my cowardice.

 

But that fury was of a 14 year old boy, little he could do against a band of goblins. Paul eventually fell beside me, and when he did, I shouted and cursed. The goblins jumped back for a moment, and when I looked up at them I felt a slight tingling that I set aside as mere adrenaline. I saw fear in their eyes. But it didn’t last long, and soon again the hordes were against me again. And if there was nothing Paul could do, I was in deep trouble. One of them took a bite at my leg, others swung with blunt weapons, connecting blows that landed hard. I fell to the wet and bitter ground. As darkness came upon me, I could smell the scent of lavender.

 

I didn’t die. I remember that distinctly. An overwhelming darkness fell upon my mind and body – I fought to understand what was going on, but the events were vague at best. I was conscious, but only enough to be a spectator as my life unfolded. The mysterious scent began to disappear, but the goblins ceased in their attacks against me. I could, I thought I could, feel their fear returning to them. I heard yelling in a foreign language, and the noise of battle began again. Quickly the air became thick with a metallic taste which I can’t quite explain. My senses began to blacken out entirely, and the last I heard was the fleeing footsteps of goblins.

 

Some time later – be it minutes or hours I could not be certain – my eyes and ears opened, though little else. Death still hung behind me waiting, but it had to run fast, for I was on a horse. We galloped hard on a steady and yet unknown path. I was being carried throughout the dark, and my wounds had healed. Not entirely, but enough to assume that we had been traveling for quite some time. It was a her that carried me, and her robes were white. I could see nothing else in the scant moonlight with my weary eyes. I thought only of Paul.

 

With no recollection of actually falling asleep again, I must have, as I awoke some time later. This, my friends, was the beginning. I opened my eyes slowly and as all my senses returned to me I realized I was in a room. Wooden and well built, it was a cozy room, but not small. It was kept warm from some yet unknown heat source, though I thought I could hear fire crackling from elsewhere. The room had a bookshelf – a full one. This in itself was amazing. Books were a rarity in the empire, Gerard had one to keep his tales in, and Jack’s father had one to map out his instructions, but that was the only written script I had ever seen. It had a window, tall and true, and the glass was of good make all things considered in the empire. It was morning, as the sun rose slowly and shone in from the east. It was slightly distorted, the reason yet unclear to me. Below the window was a large oaken desk: quill, ink, and lamp in the corner. To its right, was an open closet, full of various robes, and my tattered clothes. And from there, a simple door. I was in a wooden bed, with comforter and mattress of real feathers I would assume, and a pillow made of something equally as comfortable. I was dressed in robes of red, and was no longer injured.

 

I was speechless. I lay in the bed for some time. My mind was in a daze. I didn’t know how many days had passed, and I could not stop thinking of my fallen comrade. He had died, and I could not help him. He had died, and I did not save him. He had died, and I was saved. It was a horrible feeling; one that can take innocence and tear it to shreds. I struggled to keep my mind clear of such corruption.

 

Eventually I had the nerve to get up and out of bed, and examine closely my surroundings. I found myself absentmindedly touching everything: the feeling of a quill in my hand – so natural; a book, a hefty and expensive burden; the closet robes, light with comfort; the window – a natural warmth forcing through the pane. It was all very wonderful.

 

The quiet sound of chimes again danced in the air, but now the sound had origin. Just outside the window, I could see a set of tall wooden chimes blowing in a faint breeze. It frightened me back to my bed. Something about the sound gave a presence, and I had a fear of being caught muddling through possessions that were not mine; being caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The door creaked open and, as if summoned by the chimes themselves, in walked in a tall and slender woman.

 

Looking not a day over 30, all her facial features were northern. Why this was strange only occurred to me after she spoke – for her accent was not quite northern. Naturally I couldn’t place it, but I knew it was not mine, nor any of my friends. Her blue eyes twinkled with a strange familiarity and innate knowing when she saw me, eyes open. Her hair as golden as the sun, and fell down her back loosely. She smiled. The chimes took off again in a sudden breeze, and I only smiled back at her. There was a moment where all my burdened thoughts of Paul melted away, and all I knew was this home. She walked calmly over to the base of the bed, sure footed and straight backed, her white robes dancing in an unknown wind, and looked down at me. “So you have awakened, child.”

 

I made to answer, but could only nod. “Good,” she said. Many other questions choked in my throat as she made to leave. As she made to the door I urged a sound to utter from my lips. I had to say something, anything.

 

“Wait!”

 

She stopped, but did not turn around for a moment. I had thought later that she had to consider it, but as I gained knowledge of her ways, I would know that it was simple dramatics. To a child though, it felt as a secret success when she finally did turn. “Yes?”

 

Uh oh. I had yet to know what to say. “Umm…. Who are you?” A useless question, I should have asked about where we were, or how I was alive.

 

A slight and playful laugh emerged from her lips, were she younger I would have called it a giggle. “I have many names. Many people call me different things.”

 

Usually that would have conjured sarcasm from my mind and out my lips. But for some reason it was not so, now. She seemed to have a power over me, unfamiliar yet not uncomfortable. “Well, what shall I call you?”

 

“Whatever you feel suits. The elves affectionately call me Stargazer, the imperial armies once knew me as the Wizardess of the Woods, the goblins hail my name as Hermit Lady of Death. My friends and family know my name as Rachel.”

 

“Cool.” Not exactly the answer of a genius, but it would do. Feeling a little more revived from the experience of her entrance, I followed up – fearing losing the opportunity to speak with her. “So, you’re a wizardess?”

 

She laughed again. “Yes, though such a term is… ignorant language. Mage, or Sorceress is a well drawn title.”

 

“And you’ve met elves?”

 

As my inquiries of curiosity were given, her eyes twinkled again subtly. “Yes, I have,” she answered. “I have met many races.”

 

“Oh, wow.” The majesty of the answer seemed to float over my head as another question occurred to me. “Where are we?”

 

“A forest, well east of where you were when I found you.”

 

Recollection of the past seemed to taint the room quickly. “Oh.” My curiosity was tamed by thoughts of the battle against those monsters and my fallen friend.

 

Rachel looked at me with sorrow in her face. She knew somehow of where her last statement had taken me. “Perhaps you should get some more rest,” she said. “I’ll be back in a little while,” and with that, she left. A certain normalcy returned to the room, that feeling of discomfort and dread.

 

I did not feel like resting though. I dragged over to the bookshelf and picked up several books, more out of amazement than anything. I wanted to see the scripture inside. Gerard had taught me snippets of reading, and you always learn some basics as a child. Opening one, I gazed at the words, they were magnificently scribed. There was something released when it was opened. The light feelings that existed when Rachel had entered were present again. I felt at ease, and before I knew it I was trying to read the print as language rather than an art.

 

It was a story. Much like one of Gerard’s stories, though this one was not of gems and dragons, but of the local history of the surrounding imperial villages. To others the interest would have vanished quickly, and no bard would ever earn a lunch with such info, but I found it captivating.

 

I’m not certain whether an hour or seven had passed, but the day stretched on through my window and before I knew it the door was creaking open again. By this time I had become so familiar with the books by my side and in my lap that I hadn’t any thoughts of hiding them. Rachel entered again, and I sat up straight. I had an urge to impress her, my reasons unknown to even me at the time. She looked down at the books next to me, and smiled once more. “You read?”

 

“Only a little, but I’m a quick learner.”

 

She stepped over to the bed and picked up the book I was reading. She handled it delicately, as if she needn’t touch it to carry it. “History’s of the Empire? A drab read for a kid such as yourself.”

 

“I’m no kid. Besides, any tales of the Empire are good tales.” Funny, it sounded much more profound in my head. “I like it.”

 

“No doubt,” Rachel laughed. Her white robes seemed to dance as she did. Returning the book to my hands she smiled. “I’ve brought you something to eat.” With a wave of her hand, about the strangest sight I had ever seen entered the room. A floating circle floated into the room. I rubbed my eyes, for it was an absurd gesture of physics. A sandy coloured film seemed to drip off of it continually in a fashion that reminded me of some of the great fountains described of in our capital city. After getting used to it, it reminded me of a makeshift (and very beautiful) tablecloth. And, on it was indeed a plate of food and a small glass and jug. It floated towards the bed before finally coming to a stop.

 

“Magic?” I needed no answer, nor was given one. “That’s amazing Rachel.” To say her name felt foreign to my mouth, and for a moment worry of disrespecting her flowed through my mind. “I mean, uh, Miss Rachel.”

 

“Eat up, and content yourself with anything here. I have some business to attend to, and the sunset shall come soon.” So I did.

 

The next day, the chimes sounded, and in came Rachel. She gave me a tour of the house, the bottom floor. It was a two story cottage, though I could see no immediate reason for the upper level. The house had everything on the ground. A room packed with books upon books. A kitchen and a smoking room – though I had no idea why, she proclaimed that she didn’t smoke. A dining room and even another guest bedroom, not unlike my own. It was a quaint little place.

 

The outside was even better, in a forest that was neither thick nor thin, the cottage was built in a slight circular clearing. There was a strong smell of lavender, lilac and other flowers around here. Spring came quicker here than elsewhere, I saw no snow. The outside of the house was simplistic in nature, a simple house, a simple roof, a simple deck, and a simple garden. There was even the remains of what once had been a path leading towards the house, now fading without use. The stars were clearly visible at night here, as the trees were careful not to extend their branches too far into our view. Around the back of the cottage was a stone pattern of brick, which Rachel described as “mage stuff”.

 

And of magic, my keeper was vague. She would show me no tricks that bards were quick to show, and I rarely saw anything quite as spectacular as the table incident in my room. Though she never denied her use of magic (as my interest was keen after such a teasing display in the past), I rarely caught even its ‘practical uses’. Indeed, I did not see her ever cook, clean, wash, mend, or any other household chores that my mother had kept to faithfully. Rachel had “magical servants” to do it for her, she said, though I looked and looked, and never saw a thing.

 

Rachel informed me that I was a welcome guest in her home, as long as I did not enter the second floor. It did not matter much, as my curiosity quickly found a locked door at the top of the stairs. To many of my peers, especially after our words of treasure hunting, it would seem odd to give up there, but there was something about the room that did not ask me enter. It held little interest for me. So I took her up on her offer. My first weeks were spent lamenting the death of my friend. I held a great deal of guilt for his passing, and “little but time can help such feelings,” was Rachel’s consolation. “A human being is never guiltless, but you needn’t place blame on anyone but the goblins for his death Tekkorin.”

 

Time was correct, and Rachel was patiently by my side. Her words were seldom, but her ears were always open for my troubles, and I had many. After I begun to get over Paul, eventually my brother came into my mind and he had to be properly thought of as well. It was not an unknown thing, death. Rachel spoke with knowledge on the subject, and being from the empire, I too had had to be the shoulder for many of my friends in the past. I shall not bore you with the detail, save to say that even seasons passed before my grief passed it’s mourning state.

 

I had a habit to read, whilst I spent time indoors. It was an unending hunger for the literature that Rachel had to offer. Even after I found myself accepting the death of my kin, I continued to embrace the knowledge around me. Religion, history, geography, as well as biographies of the guilded factions of the world – the Iron Hand, Blue Bellied Bouncers, and the Squad of Squealers were simply a few that I had the opportunity of reading. Some were written almost as if they were some fantasy far, far away, and others reminded me of home. Rachel was kind enough to aid me in any questions I had, and spent a great deal of her time checking up on my reading skills. I once asked if she had written the books herself, and she denied so, saying that “they are merely leftover tools now, for decoration and reference. I wouldn’t write such bland material.” Throughout my readings we would oft discuss the topics that I had read about, and my understanding became more complete – each book was layer upon layer of a sugar I couldn’t resist.

 

A time came when I ran out of books to read, not from lack of quantity, but because of my own ignorance. Her collection was not limited to simply the imperial language. She taught me slowly pieces of a language and set me to work on simplistic tales. But I had no hunger for such slow lessons, and taught myself alongside her – after each lesson, I would learn as much as I could about the language. First it was human languages from countries I had never heard of and then eventually Elfish and equally as majestic words. There was something about this place that encouraged on the study of wisdom and intellect that I could not ignore.

 

When it was too dark to read, (as Rachel would not allow candle light by anything paper), I would go out to see the stars. They were wondrous, and always recalled my passions of adventure, and often with them, a recollection of home. It is difficult to explain how time passes here, quickly and without notice, and often seasons went by before I had seen a week. When I confessed this to Rachel she said jokingly that it was an elfish illness - time seemed to pass that way for them as well. On the starry nights is when I came to know her best – then I was able to see her emotions. She often came to ‘look at the stars’ she said, and her mood would change, for better or worse. I assumed that she was like many of the seers in my stories, and could tell the futures of might and men within the lights of the sky. Again I would ask her – as I was prone to doing, and she would laugh and give an anecdote or some enigmatic answer to elaborately say “not quite.”

 

It was, in fact, years before a serious recollection of home came to mind. I had grown up in so much a non-imperial way that my strength had left me, and even the old dagger of my past felt awkward in my hands. Rachel had made me feel accustom to robes, simply because she carried no other garment. Typically the garb of women and old men, it felt strange to wear one at first. But the comfort that it contained persevered through frustration or anger – both of which I often suffered at the hands of learning – and lent me the strength to become calm and try again. I became quite acquainted with it during my time there.

 

It was like a dream from which I awoke, suddenly and without reason. At the age of nineteen, though if I was asked the day I wouldn’t know it, the wanting to return home came to me. Rachel had been delicate of the subject for a great while. Whenever my thoughts drifted that way in the past, she would ask me if I wished to return home – my reply was always the same: “no, not really,” though I think she understood too well. This time she asked, and I am certain that she once again already knew. By the stars one night it was decided, that I would go home. The next day a map, and rations were supplied for me. Rachel had even a horse to quicken the journey for me. I inquired where she had gotten it, and the reply was just as usual. We enjoyed a laugh over it. The thought came by that it would be our final laugh together. I had grown up now, by imperial standards as well as her own, and mine.

 

She did not ask if or when I would return. Her eyes still twinkled with the knowledge of the answer. I did not ask for it. Carefully I mounted, and set off, looking back only briefly to see that she had disappeared inside. The horse seemed to know the route better than the map, and I let it guide me home. The sound of chimes seemed distant, but present as I rode back to my childhood.

Edited April 26, 2003 by Justin Silverblade

[Justin Silverblade]

~~~

OOC:

 

Been trying to write, but I just can't seem to get into it. I would really like to finish this story, but it's killer trying to get the inspiration for it. Sorry if this stuff is a little bland. One, maybe two, more instalments to go. And again, sorry about the formating, I just don't have the patience to fix it.

 

- Justin

 

Edit - To double space for easier reading.

~~~

 

It was like a dream from which I awoke, suddenly and without reason. At the age of nineteen, though if I was asked the day I wouldn’t know it, the wanting to return home came to me. Rachel had been delicate of the subject for a great while. Whenever my thoughts drifted that way in the past, she would ask me if I wished to return home – my reply was always the same: “no, not really,” though I think she understood too well. This time she asked, and I am certain that she once again already knew. By the stars one night it was decided, that I would go home. The next day a map, and rations were supplied for me. Rachel had even a horse to quicken the journey for me. I inquired where she had gotten it, and the reply was just as usual. We enjoyed a laugh over it. The thought came by that it would be our final laugh together. I had grown up now, by imperial standards as well as her own, and mine.

 

She did not ask if or when I would return. Her eyes still twinkled with the knowledge of the answer. I did not ask for it. Carefully I mounted, and set off, looking back only briefly to see that she had disappeared inside. The horse seemed to know the route better than the map, and I let it guide me home. The sound of chimes seemed distant, but present as I rode back to my childhood.

 

When Jardain finally came back into view, it seemed as the old town with a new coat of paint. Times that once were here could now be called memories. I smiled. Home sweet home. Smoke rose slowly from the houses, and everybody was out and about, tending to the day’s chores after a morning of rain. I was eager to re-meet the memories that now seemed distant.

 

I rode in slowly, and received many odd looks. Quickly I realized that this was because of my robed attire – for that was certainly not the usual of an imperial traveler. But as soon as they looked, they returned to their work. I posed no threat and did not seek to. I found my way to the old stables.

 

I dismounted awkwardly, (as I was not, in actuality, trained in their riding) and straightened my robes out. Taking my hood down, I caught a glimpse of myself in a puddle. Oh how I had changed! My face had thinned out, and my eyes had set in comfortably – it was strange to see the image studying me so intently. Though I shaved and cleaned in front of a mirror regularly, the effect of time had not occurred to me – and now I seemed an entirely different person. It was when I smiled that I caught an image of yesterday, and I was satisfied.

 

Continuing onward I set aside my horse to be looked after. The stable boy who was once there had now been replaced by an equally young lad whose compliance I would have rewarded a silver piece, had I one to give. I walked down the familiar streets, and hurried straight to my home. My intent was to make it there quickly, and without notice, but that was a far cry of a hope.

 

And so it went unfound, as my brown robes caught the eye of an old friend. “Tekkorin! Issat you? I thought you were dead!” came the voice from across the street. I straightened my posture, as was conditioned to me, and turned to meet the voice. At first the figure did not seem familiar; it was wrapped in layers of clothing, a fur or two and a heavy backpack, all which caused him to hunch ever so slightly. But upon closer inspection, the facial features gave way to recognition.

 

“Jack! Now there’s an ol’ face!” I ran over to him, relieved him of his backpack, and gave him a good old imperial hug. “What’s with the gear? How are you? What are you doing?”

 

Jack looked confused for but a moment, as if something had caught him off guard about me – not something I was unaccustomed to in my short walk down the city streets. Then he laughed, suddenly with realization.

 

I stopped in my unanswered queries, with one more: “What?”

 

“You’re… you don’t have any…” He did not wish to hurt my feelings.

 

“Spit it out, old friend!”

 

“You’re poor,” he finally spoke looking nervously into my eyes. It wasn’t a new fact, though I thought it odd for gold to be the first thing on his mind. I laughed to ease his tension.

 

“And you’re ugly!” I replied to return his insult playfully. “But answer my questions friend. How have you been?” We made our way slowly off the middle of the street and beside an ally. I asked him to come to the tavern for a drink, but he shook his head.

 

“I’m not coming, I’m going, Tek. That’s what’s with the bags. No will for a drink, I’m afraid – I’ve got a long road ahead of me.”

 

I nodded, understanding my friend’s longing to get on to the road. It felt bittersweet, having missed years of friendship and yet being just in time to miss more. Still, I thanked the gods that they allowed me this chance at least to catch up to him. I don’t know how long we stood at chatted, certainly enough time for a drink or two (though through repeated requests he would not). I informed him of Paul’s death and of my time with a wooded stranger – though I kept the issue of magic vague. Jack told me of his aspirations – he was going to the capital city. He wanted to meet a different crowd, and was tired of this old village. I listened for a while at the detail with which he had imagined the largest city in the Empire. But when all was said and done, the sun stood high on a noontime perch. Jack looked towards the sky, and took up his bag. We hugged, and shook hands for a final time. I told him I would visit at some point, and that the next time we met, I’d make sure not to be poor. He laughed, and said he looked forward to it, if I could find him in the big city. I stood in the shadow of the buildings and watched as he slowly trudged off, and cursed at Fate for not allowing me more time with him.

 

And so my trek continued. Down the street, and a left at the corner with the wiggly barrel (which was still there, and is to this day I’ll wager), cut through the alley and then to the second house on the right: my house. It seemed unkept, and straight of yesterday, save for the time and care that had been worn away from winters. I hesitated before the door, and drew in a deep breath. With one motion I opened it and stepped inside…

 

Nothing. The house was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief that I would not yet have to confront my family, and I took the liberty to look around. Things lay in a heap, here and there. Some of my mother’s knitting had continued, but it was as ever unfinished. My father’s armour lay mounted in the corner of the first room. It was the first thing that he wanted to be seen when a visitor walked in – that this was the house of an imperial soldier, an important one. I took the liberty of checking out my old room, and was shocked to see it tossed and turned. Everything in it had been moved around, searched. My small desk had been tipped, and so I righted it. A dagger stood upright, slammed into it. Pinned to the wood was a parchment, a crude recreation of the old map I had, with markings drawn all over it. I examined further, and found even little notes scrawled here and there, which must have been my father’s hand – he was the only other who knew how to write in our family. A creak at the door suddenly, gave away someone else. Finding my back once again turned away, I slowly faced the newcomer.

 

My mother, upon seeing my face, dropped the dagger she held meekly in her hands. She had not expected this, obviously, but rather, some kind of intruder, or thief – both of which were dealt with harshly in the Empire. Without a word, we embraced. The age of the years could be seen heavily upon her now, that she was in the final stages of adulthood. It was a long and heartfelt thing, a mother and her son could together melt any ice that the frigid winters had brought between them. After a length of tears, my mother and I made way to the tiny dinner table that we sat at some 5 years ago, and we talked. I’d dare not re-create it the discussion, for it is impossible to do it justice. But it is logical to say that I spoke to her of everything. Nothing could be hid, nor would I hide anything from her. Every detail was her, even as noon turned to dusk and the evening set in was I not halfway through my story. She would quietly listen, and would have listened deep into the midnight hours had I kept speaking. But my mind had other plans when I began to see the stars through the window.

 

“Where’s Father?” I asked abruptly.

 

A shroud of disdain covered my mother’s face when she answered. “At the bar, no doubt. That’s where he always is these days, since Julia left, and you…” her voice drifted off.

 

The past was bitter for her, I could see plainly, and I was saddened for it. As we would talk later, I would find that her life was not altogether harsh, but had seen rough times. Being the cause of some of that pain wounded me as well. Still, I pressed on, to flush out the wound and learn of what I had left. “Julia left?”

 

My mother nodded, the tears again starting to surface in her red eyes. “Yes,” she smiled. “It was a happy time, a time we all knew that had to come. A couple of years ago now, not even. She wanted to find her real parents or at least find out who they were, not that she held anything against us. She said that all the time, and felt real bad. Your father took it worse than I did, I don’t know why. That man’s been different lately…”

 

Another wave of sorrow and guilt came over me. The feelings were strong, and are quite unexplainable – though everyone must feel them once in their life, to know them. Catching the expressions in my face, my mother shook her head.

 

“Oh no, no, no, Tekkorin. It was not you. There were other things too. Life is hard sometimes, and people deal with it different ways. Klo- I mean, your father, he has had some difficult times.” She didn’t have the words to describe it, though I would have sat through any explanation. When none more came, I inquired further about Julia. “Well, she headed south with Gerard for a time in the spring, since he was going that way anyways. With our blessings, Gerard took her to a town that housed some of his old friends when she was of age. Last he saw of Julia, she was happy.”

 

I nodded, silently. I had many words, but none seemed fit to speak at the time. Finally my mother broke the silence once again – something I was not entirely accustom to her doing.

 

“She left you something, for when you got back,” my mother laughed and then teared up again. “She put up a brave face even after… But kept saying that we should keep it for you, just in case.” A small silver whistle was revealed to me – an old plaything of hers from many years back. I laughed and pushed back tears as I remembered her annoying the whole house with it. I took the old heirloom of the past, the toy, and placed it in my pocket.

 

“I have to go see Father now, if that’s alright,” I said, looking to take the leave of one who bore so much hardship. “I’ll be back soon,” I added securely.

 

She did not speak, but nodded quietly, and we hugged again, before I left for the tavern.

 

What had I done? I was a fool. It was simple to see now, and I cursed myself for not seeing it sooner. To leave was an idiot’s choice. I had done harm here by going so young, so foolish. But what was worse was the fact that I could have helped with hardships had I stayed. What they were was unimportant, but I could have stayed. I should have stayed.

 

And yet I still remember what I learned in the small hut only weeks before, and it was useful – there is nothing that can be done to change the past. It is, and it shall be. Tomorrow’s another day. I took on great stride as I hurried to the tavern. The moonlight cast down on me as I hurried, and I felt somehow, resolved; a feeling that had not occurred to me so clearly, so purely, until now. It would be only the beginning of such an ideal. For that I was glad.

 

Reaching the tavern I opened the doors quickly, and stepped inside as if I had walked into a hall of kings. And true I had, as there was a rowdy bunch of drunkards; singing and dancing, and laughing. When I stepped in, however, there was a hush. No deafening silence, and things quickly returned to their pace, but it was a moment. In a small tavern it was a casual acceptance of another, a new face. I saw my father at the bar, a stein in his hand and a drunken look on his face. He was not happy, he was not laughing and singing as the others were. He looked old, and worn, but even now, is stature was important. Anyone who saw him, knew that he was strong, and resolute in his actions. That was the imperial way… that was the Karros way.

 

I walked over to him and ordered an ale. He didn’t look up, his gaze remained steady, at the sin which he drowned his sorrows in. “Father…” I said, almost in a whisper. Silence was the answer for a great while, but I knew that he had heard me, I knew that he had seen me. His eyes held experience, and even now, in altered state and attention diverted, he knew I was here. Finally as my ale came to me, he spoke.

 

“My son is dead.” Angry words, and definitely not sober. “Another beer, Rell.” The barkeep did not dare deny the man, though he knew he had had one too many already.

 

“He died years ago,” my father continued. “We sent out a search, I conducted it personally. The Queen herself could not have picked a better candidate, and I could not find him. He must be dead. The goblins did them both in… young fools.” I made to say something, but the ramblings of a drunken man would not be stopped. “We spread out, Gerard showed us his map, I made the teams and it was simply a matter of time. But we were too slow, fate itself was against us, for there they were… stupid, pathetic goblins. We slew every last one of ‘em.” His words slurred together… has he became more agitated. “but it was no use. The damn things killed you, both of you. We found Paul’s corpse, but only the gods knew what they did with you, with your body.”

 

He polished off the full mug that was brought before him, and looked me in the eye. After five years of growth on me, and at least twelve mugs of ale against him, I still felt nervous about my father’s judgments. His gaze was stern, as if I had been on of his troops disobeying a command. “Come home dad,” I said, prompting him. “We’ll talk.”

 

This shocked him. I had spoke again to him. The barkeep’s voice came across as stern but friendly. “Maybe ya better list’n to the boy, Klothe. You’ve had one to many.”

 

My father grumbled but reluctantly subsided into submission, and accompanied me home. It was a long night. I started from the beginning again, for my father – though I was sure that there would be a sizeable piece of the story missing from his head in the morn. Both of them were quiet, which was strange given the family. But I talked and talked late into the night and early morning. They asked no questions, and did not speak to whether they doubted or believed, approved or disapproved, of any piece of my story.

Edited April 26, 2003 by Justin Silverblade

[Justin Silverblade]

Done and done! The next couple of installments should be it. I just finished writing them before posting, since I wanted to make sure there weren't going to be any changes. Still largely unedited though. I just didn't have the patience.

 

Enjoy!

 

~~~

 

The next few days were difficult. Much of the days were spent talking about past and present, my mother opened up to me much more than my father, who at some points would even go so far as to leave the room. His only son had become so unlike him, I did not even learn to wield a sword. But he was also as understanding as my family can be. After great length, and several promptings from my mother, he agreed to allow me to stay for a while, as long as I pulled my end of the weight. We had become distanced, but we were still a family, and that was a welcome feeling.

 

Nonetheless, the days did not get easier as time passed, though they were not unhappy. It was a strange feeling, now in my old town. As much as I would have liked to keep the events of my past somewhat secretive, my mother and father would talk, and their friends would talk. The olde magics were a skeptical point in a little village, and as time went on I received more and more looks from others – my attire and vocabulary did not help. I was more intelligent then many of them, and jealousy ran quietly in the small village. But this did allow me to contribute in a variety of ways, and I was sure to do everything I could. I spent some time with the children of the village, interested in their growing up – trying to make sure they did not make the same mistake I did. Little Jenny was especially fun, since she remembered me from beforehand. The lifestyle I lived easily turned me into a kind of hermit from the older population, and I strayed from conversation, save for drunken incidents at the tavern, where everyone is a conversationalist.

 

Time did not have an elfish affluence here, and so it seemed to slow and become strangely unreal. I had plenty of time to get to know the village, as much as I wished, and re-visit opportunities of my past. I looked in on old friends, and the old history of the village. Strange, it all seemed like a prolonged vacation. I did not belong here. I drifted, became anxious again, after only a few months. But as summer sun soon shone my destiny, and I learned why that feeling of resolve had come to me so early.

 

It was late one night, when I took a walk again to the square. An old habit I refused to shake, to see the stars. And tonight it was strange, they shone brightly. Not with the usual air of knowledge. They seemed to speak, to yell. I still could not decipher what they spoke, if they spoke at all. It was not happy call, I knew that. My thoughts were interrupted however, by the hoofed sound of another.

 

On horseback was a soldier, fully garbed and armoured. His stature was proud but worried, as seemed to be the symbol on his breastplate – which also designated his rank, equal to my father. He looked down at me, his horse catching the moment for breath. “Awake the village.” He demanded, “Bring them here and hurry. There must be no delay. The Queen demands it.” I could bring but a nod before he was down the meager streets of our small village yelling ‘Arise! Arise!’

 

I did not hesitate and rang the town bell immediately. It was a loud and shrill thing that fit its purpose. Between the two of us, the village was quickly rounded to the center square by torchlight. The officer spoke at length:

 

“Servants to Her Majesty, citizens of the Empire, I am Sergeant Dellrite and I come with dire news. You must ready your troops, and anyone who can fight! Several days eastward have been spotted a band of the foul. Orc again walk our lands and defile every step of it! Their course is westward, and unwavering. Their origin and destination is unknown, their purpose is undoubtedly disgusting. They have already left one village in fire and ruins, and a better team now comes to slay them where they stand, but will not be here for days ride. The women and children must hurry to protect themselves. I am here to aid in whatever way I can, but we must hurry! They do not stop – they do not sleep, nor eat, nor alter course for any reason. Their wounded drop behind for dead, their strong still lead. To arms!”

 

There was a hush and then a crowd of mumblings. Orc had always been hated, and justly so. It was taught to us from birth – every child knew of their treachery to the Empire, and to mankind. All united in fear and anger to destroy the foul beings. “How many?” came the cold, confident voice of my father.

 

“Last counted, all told, a band of no less than a hundred.”

 

I heard whisperings of distraught and despair. “We’re doomed.”

“The village will burn.”

“We’ll all be run through.”

 

The officer rode forth, holding out his hands. “You need only to hold them off, reinforcements are on their way. I am a member of their regiment.” It did not calm the storm.

 

Again, startlingly strong, came the voice of my kin: “We will hold them. I’ll be damned if I let orc burn my town.”

 

Nobody slept that night. It was a cold and bitter darkness – the air chilled with the coming doom. My role was as a squire to my father – I was his messenger and in some cases his guide. The blacksmith brought out his best, and we armed everyone who was fit to carry a blade. The houses were made into tiny barricades – each window secured and fit with some kind of device that could rain down on the enemy. We would be a fit defense; only a stone wall could be more complete.

 

But the more we worked, the more I realized our plight. One hundred orc were strong, and Jardain was small. The Empire’s finest were on their way, but would not be here soon enough. It felt like a lost cause. But, no one else seemed to share that thought. Every soldier went forth with diligence (fifteen, all told once the outlying farms had been notified). Every peasant from pike to pitchfork complied with the commands of our tiny army. Every wife and child was gathered and taken, by the sergeant, to the hills where a tiny camp was made. Virtually untraceable, the wiles of Dellrite seemed to be adequate for the task.

 

The next day, brought in by the red sun of fables, was a wait. Dellrite ate and slept, as he had done nether in the past three days. My father joined him in silent company. The night was similar, a deathly wait that seemed to take forever. With the dawn of the second day, came the shouts of our watchman – the trees were burning, and the thunder of marching could be heard. We arranged and readied for battle, Dellrite was pleased that it had taken the orc so long, and kept saying that their army would be here soon.

 

Orc are evil. Stressed unlike any other, few can comprehend what kind of form their teachings take until they are met with such a tainted creature. They are not mortals misguided. Not savages uncivilized. When the monstrosities of the realm stepped into view, clarity revealed itself to me that I would forever remember. Their earthly form corrupted. With a putrid stench unlike any ogre, and a description that in itself mutilated the splendor of vision, they were a living scar on the delicate face of life. Their attitudes were the only thing equal to their blasphemy, ‘no mercy’ was a pathetic injustice to their thought pattern for they did not even have regard for life, no knowledge that it existed. They only knew their purpose – without the intelligence to comprehend it – which was solely and undoubtedly to be a force of malice against everything. This last piece of knowledge is not a wizard’s wisdom, nor a child’s disgust – it was simply understood by any who ever encountered these creatures. And we had just encountered fifty of them.

 

There was relief when their reduced numbers were noticed, but it was brief. Quickly the enemy advanced, their intent clear. Arrow’s let loose, and signaled an end to the peaceful torture. The battle that ensued was quick, and painful. The orc barreled through and into are strongest of forces. Swords were drawn, and the frontline of soldiers charged forward. Death was everywhere, the peasants entered quickly afterward, as our highly trained soldiers began to litter the ground one by one. I could not see my father in the thick of battle – but a strong sense of fate felt present here. I could almost feel The Lamenter’s presence.

 

Before long we could here the march of cavalry, and we rejoiced together in midst of death. It was late. The village would be saved, and lives saved, but even now as we had to battle longer but moments longer the cost seemed too great. I could practically feel my father hit the ground, though I could see him not. In a moment of weakness I despaired for him, before the sting of battle reminded me where I was. A blow to the leg crippled me, though I was saved by the arriving army, who took no change in pace to enter battle. We, the peasants, ran from the battle as best we could, now that we were ensured safety if we could exit the battlefield. I scraped by, by some sick twist of Fate, as my father died defending his home. The orc had centered on the soldiers more than I, with sword uselessly by my side. I limped away, watching the rest of the battle amidst mourning cries.

 

And that was the end. As quickly as it had begun, it ended. I mourned, many did. It came to pass that many joined the graves of our small town. Sergeant Dellrite offered me the same consolation as any soldier could: an “I’m sorry,” and later a few anecdotes of the good things he had heard about my father – it was not much, but enough. Over the fall, my mother and I would often visit his gravestone;

 

Here Lies,

Sergeant Klothryn Karros

 

In service and protection,

Of his queen, his family,

And his honour.

 

May the Gods guide your

Journey.

 

It was a sad time, yes, but strangely came the mature thoughts of tomorrow. It was not the same with Paul, or Darren. No, this time, it was an easier acceptance – though not less mourned – to understand the ways of life. For better or worse, I had become more accustomed to death.

 

I was stricken immobile for a great while, a cane being my aid to limping around town. I stayed for the duration of the fall, and as winter came, so did Gerard. This time he was not met by our few troops leaving for the more challenged villages, and that was a long conversation. But I was gladdened to see him again, and he was me. We spent much of the winter together, I would often talk to him of his ventures around the Empire. He would retort as a bard would, with flamboyance and heartiness. My story struck him of great interest though, and one night he dared to inquire further.

 

“But where did you end up? Who was she?” He asked one night whilst we shared a course of Rell’s finest steak and ale.

 

“Her name was Rachel,” I replied. “You would have liked her, Gerard. She had a great library, lots of tales and adventures written down. Books, stacks of books.”

 

Gerard smiled at me, and I realized I was acting like a kid in a candy store. I missed it greatly. “Rachel, hmm? Can’t say I’ve heard of her,” he said finally, looking at me with doubt. “And I’ve heard of a lot of people.”

 

I shrugged, uninterested in his belief in my words. It occurred to me, however, that I did wish to speak of my time there. It was a great time in my life, and I had shared it only with my parents. Their interest of the subject had been minimal – their thoughts solely on the journey I had taken. “She’s also called the Wizardess of the Woods. And the-“

 

“Stargazer?” Gerard finished.

 

My hopes lifted. “You know her then?”

 

Gerard laughed, as if I had hit the punch line of a joke. “Oh no, Tekkorin. I know of her, but I don’t actually know her. Not that she’d have much time for a bard, I’d wager.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“A lot of the time, bards and gals like that don’t get along very well. We’re kind of the jester of their life,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “some of us even go so far as to make a mockery of magic.” Quickly correcting himself, as if repenting he spoke again, “not I of course… but we bards are lumped into the same boat allota the time, ya know?”

 

This time it was I who laughed, for I could not fathom Rachel with that kind of an attitude towards Gerard. He’s never made anyone angry, I thought. Oh how young I still was. “Well, that’s her, anyways. Like I said, piles of books. I even saw some of your tales there – well, some different versions anyways.”

 

“Huh. You know I haven’t of her for a while. She’s gone into retirement, they said.”

 

“They?” I asked. Rachel had taught me enough to be inquisitive.

 

Gerard looked at me with slight ignorance, but a smile. “They? Oh, you know: people. Anyone really.” Taking another bite of his food, he continued on a train of though. “You know, you’re pretty lucky to have seen her. It’s not everyone who just gets picked up by a white robed wizard. Sounds to me like ya made a pretty good friend.” He mumbled then, to himself, about wishing Dewtenty was so kind to him.

 

The conversation continued, and we eventually went on to other things as well. But the calling came, heralded in by our dialogue. I realized that there was little here for me. Perhaps it was Jardain. It seemed to bring youth to adulthood and quickly cast them off into the great strengths of the world. Perhaps it was that aura, that wisp of comfort that followed even now from the house in the woods. The pull seemed more natural than anything, simply the realization with that resolve that this small town is not where I was to play my days. It was then that my interest in magic bloomed, and a scent of lavender floated amongst the village.

 

The question of how, or why, had rarely entered my head. You did not question your duty, or your superiors; that was the way at the time. But now, it dawned that there was little but fate that one should not question. I could not hide in a village, to be useless. I had enjoyed that feeling at Rachel’s place, that intense but subtle ambiance, as I had enjoyed the tales of Gerard in the times of yesterday. But now, I wanted to know them, understand them, like the tomes of knowledge that my youth spent absorbing. A year was a long time to take to realize this, but perhaps it was well enough in the learning.

 

The winter slowly faded into spring again, as the years before it, and Gerard set off. I told him that I was to be off as well in a few weeks. He nodded and winked.

 

“Then safe journeys to you, young’n. If we cross on the road, be sure to toss me a few silver.”

 

“I will Gerard,” I said, “Keep telling your tales, and maybe I’ll catch you around.”

 

“Aye, maybe. With the fates you never know.” He laughed to himself – and likely thought the same thing I did. The land was great, and the chances too small. Still, it was heartfelt, and I wished him well with hope all the same.

 

With my mother it was a much more difficult task. We had grown close as all kin should, and we both knew that I would not come back – at least not whilst she walked. A sad reality, but one every mother must understand eventually. Few words were said, but few needed to be. By now we knew each other well, and she could feel my unrest once again, it was not unfamiliar to her. She wished me luck, and I told her that I had already done well, and I needn’t luck. We embraced as we had done time and time again, before I let the horse who led me home lead me to the winds of fate once more.

[Justin Silverblade]

Horse below me, I trotted along, I didn’t count the hours, the days. I probably stopped to sleep. If I did not take any care to notice my surroundings. I lived within my head for the trip, examining thoughts I had not the maturity to do until now. I did not want to be useless, I did not want to cause folly, but protect it. There must be more to life than the simple day to day experiences. I felt them at that clearing. It was quaint. Untouched by taint. I wanted that.

 

To take me from my ambition was a sight and smell that knocked me like smelling salt. The horse neighed, and I found myself in a fallen clearing; trees that had been burnt and suffered the winter’s blanket. And amongst the trees were bodies – at least sixty orc, or what would have been orc before the fall of snow and time. The smell of the corrupted flesh infuriated my nostrils. I at once looked away and up from the bodies, and covered my nose. I rode well around the clearing, hours out of my path, daring not to stop and face the corpses of the crooked. It was a rough awakening, but enough to settle me before coming across the small dell of the Hermit Lady of Death.

 

Even before I found my way to the clearing, I could hear the sound of chimes. I had returned. I dismounted and found my way to the edge of the clearing and peered to the cottage. It was as if untouched by the year’s events (which notably felt like so much longer. A thousand tragedies or comedies could have befallen me in the time I was absent from this place). Smoke rose from the roof in small wisped strands, the wood was clean and sturdy, and the front deck was still furnished with chair and wear. As I peered closer, though I meant not to spy, I saw a robed figure standing on the deck. His voice was calm, and serene, and seemed to find its way easily across the air. It was pleasing to the ear, though I had never heard the language before. This gripped my curiosity greatly, for there were few languages that I did not know.

 

“Soiem delarris teleck mar, Soiemarras? Tollen soil rakk…” He paused as I listened intently. He removed his hood to reveal pointed ears. ‘Elf!’ my thoughts shouted, and as he turned I caught a glimpse at my first elf. His body was tanned, and his eyes seemed to gaze with compassion against everything. His face was beautiful; clean, smooth skin. His hair was long, and it lay fallen back lightly on his cloak, dropping into magnificent shade. He seemed to glow in the setting sun. He turned his head half back and spoke again, “Tok lar jovel Soiemarras. Kay jaune t’kreel.” His conversation apparently finished, he made his way to the forest and seemed to disappear within. I was awestruck, and stayed so for several moments.

 

After stepping from the realm of myth, I straightened my robes, and took my cane in hand. I led the horse by its reins into the clearing. Revealed now, in the absence of the elf, was Rachel. Her beauty was different. It was not an elf’s. Not comparable. She had not aged a day. It had not struck me before, perhaps because I had spent so great a time around her, but she looked exactly as she had six years ago when she walked into my room. Her hair was styled differently, but it was still the long, flowing hair, more golden than the sun. Her eyes, deep as ocean again sparkled in the pink hue of dusk. She was not a day over thirty. Her robes were still as pure as the first snowfall, and it danced as she shook her head in silent knowing. She smiled and looked at me. “Tekkorin.”

 

I smiled back at her, speaking humbly. “There were a few books I remembered I hadn’t read.”

 

She laughed lightly and motioned for me to sit down. “You won’t need that here,” she said, motioning to my cane. My limp had gone for some time now, but I had never lost the grip of a cane. It seemed a comfort item – much like the whistle that sat in my pocket through the days. Without thought I had brought it with me. It seemed a token of stupidity here though, no need for it indeed. I placed against a corner and forgot about it. She sat comfortably, and seemed to gaze deep into my thoughts. She did not say a word to start the conversation, though she did not need to.

 

I did not hesitate to speak to her fully about everything, and as usual she held her ear open. Finally I felt the resolve that had come so strongly revive within me, and I skipped past pleasantries I would have had as a child. The wind seemed to pick up as the stars came out, and I could hear the sound of chimes from the other side of the house. I asked the question of yesterday.

 

“How did you find me?”

 

She nodded, as if she had been waiting for the question. Her eyes dimmed slightly, though she did not seem sad or disappointed in my question. “The stars are more than just a map of the sky, Tekkorin, they are a map of the earth. The midnight moon means much to those who look to it.”

 

“But why?” Realizing the unintended insult in my own question, I rephrased. “I mean why that moment? Why not stop us sooner, or come across me later?”

 

Now she seemed to be saddened by the questioning, though she was not put off by it. “That is not a question for a mage, but a priest. I would not answer to your satisfaction if I answered at all.”

 

I nodded. I had long known that answer. But it did not help me in my goal. “I know,” I spoke aloud, humbly. “but I want to learn. I want to be able to understand what you understand. I want to help-”

 

She cut me off, by standing abruptly and walking down the path several steps. When her robes settled she smiled at me, now happy at the conversation. She seemed to wade through my thoughts easily, without the inability that I had. The conversation was merely a wait for her, and not always happy to sit through the role, she was happy to see the conclusion. She motioned upward softly, her hand delicately guiding my gaze. “Do you see the stars, Tekkorin? Look at them.”

 

They danced tonight; their shine was a blaze of destiny. It seemed to call of the future. As I stared, I became memorized by them, and thought of another day far from now. Fate called it tomorrow, but it was unlike any other. It was different than what I was used to. The stars begged for a new form, a new constellation. It was to be fresh, but of old blood. And, they called out to me.

 

Rachel seemed unaffected by their splendor, and looked for me to return her gaze. “They say that you wish to be a wizard.” She left for bed quietly, mentioning that the guest room was still mine if I so desired it. I stayed and looked at the stars for some time longer. It was a remarkable thought, one that I had not actually put into a term, though I would not deny that that was a proper title. A wizard.

 

I decided to stay indefinitely. The next morning I entered the dining room as I followed the scent of breakfast. Rachel had already finished eating, and there was a plate set out for me. I sat down and helped myself. “Good morning,” she said, without looking up from a book.

 

My intent was to be direct. Firm and strong as to what I wished to say. Never mind the wishy-washy pleasantries. “Good morning,” were the words that came out of my mouth. So distraught with myself, I laughed. Rachel looked up inquisitively, and by doing so, seemed to remove whatever hold was on my tongue. “Will you help me? Teach me magic?”

 

“It is a long road. And a harsh one.”

 

“I know,” I said. I had thought about it all night, and this was what I wanted. A world I wanted a piece of. I knew I had the constitution for it, the curiosity, the intelligence. It was all a matter of tutelage.

 

“It is not one you can turn away from. Magic is not a weapon. Not a tool,” her gaze could still pierce my thoughts. “It is an element of life. It can not be ignored once you’ve seen it, Tekkorin Karros.”

 

I nodded.

 

She nodded and gave me the smile of friendship. She was glad for me, though why, I could not yet fathom. After her smile faded, and we sat in silence as she contemplated her own thoughts, Rachel stood in splendor. “And you agree to my tutelage? You will abide by my rules and know my teachings as truth without exception?” Her tone was unlike any I had heard before: neither kind nor discouraging, not happy nor sad. It was a final bargain, a final chance and fact to what I asked – revealing that I knew not the deal I wished to partake of. “You wish to become my student Tekkorin?”

 

The resolve last night still stirred me today, and I knew the answer. “Yes.”

 

Her face curled into what an ignorant would call a grin, though it was bittersweet. “Then you need to learn how to read this,” she said. The book she slid across the table was in a foreign language. “The Tongue of Magicks.”

 

And so I learned. There was nothing interesting about the teachings, though it was a complicated language, full of words that had no imperial equivalent. It took me a great while, even with Rachel’s help. It required a great amount of memorization, and I found myself reviewing the language often simply to remember it. After I learned the language (which took some time), Rachel explained that there was much to learn about the trade of magic far before the skill of wielding it.

 

“It is a power that binds all users. We are all guilty for discovering it, and so must be guilty for the guidance of its practice, together. There is no other force to guide us, none to comprehend our abilities, and appropriately watch over them. We must be a family, and we are one. For that purpose, there have been passed on facts and responsibilities of a wizard.

 

“A wizard is never young. From age they grow to a new spirit – magic hears those of intellect and embraces those of wisdom. A wizard’s youth is their past, their life is their present, and a world’s goals are their future.

 

“A wizard is always weak but always capable. Their power of magical forces is restricted by mind and matter. They will reach limits unexpected and unwanted, but if they are wise, never unwelcome. A wizard’s intellect can open any gate, their wisdom will see any open door, and their will shall force them through both.

 

“A wizard’s truth is their cause. Purpose for those who wield the arts is known by Fate. He will be the messenger, and the wizard shall be the reinforcement. They are servants to their goals but masters of their roads.

 

“A wizard’s word is their will. They may speak riddles, or may not speak. They may speak boldly or plainly or quickly or quietly. They may speak of intention or of fact, of advice or of scrutiny. But their hearts must be as pure as their goals, and their tongue must speak for both.

 

“Other rules, and there are several, are secondary to the navigation of our life. The calling of a wizard must come first, or not at all.” My teachings continued, both as a necessity and a test of endurance. If one was not willing to accept the life of a wizard, then they were not fit for the fundamentals of one. It was several seasons before we finished the ‘paperwork’ (though that term was banned, and I was punished for its use) of a wizard. When we were finished, I felt almost omniscient. The knowledge of a life, amidst the presence of magic made me feel like I held an important cause. I floated about for those few weeks, not arrogant or egotistical, but simply significant. I knew what a wizard was, and further than that – I was what a wizard was, simply minus the magic.

 

Rachel laughed – which she did rarely in our studies now – and warned me against such an emotion. It was a kind of priest knowledge that was dangerous to a wizard. A priest of such dignity and grave importance was a messenger fit for a God’s meager representation. We (for she considered me to have the “privileges of a wizard”) did not represent a God, nor did we have the protection of one. We were on our own. She explained that the magic I felt now was not unconquerable, though the concept was something I could not comprehend until I knew magic. “That,” she explained, “is why magic is the element of a wizard. It is an extension of ourselves, and is as mortal as our own bodies.”

 

At the time I nodded, ‘understanding’, though it would be my folly if I pretended otherwise. She let me sit on those thoughts and review for a week. Then and only then did we move upstairs. It had been forbidden to me until now, but as we ascended, I felt proud of my work. Though a meager few paragraphs for you, I had already spent a year and a half fitting the mold, and only now was the time to see if I was even “up to snuff” to use a phrase Paul always coined.

 

When I inquired as to the difficulty of the subject, Rachel shook her head. “It is not unlike the complexity of a musical composition,” she enlightened. “For some mages, it comes naturally. Others have to work hard at it.”

 

Her answer sufficed, but as usual, was not definite enough for me. “Is the ability difficult to learn? Is it like a math problem, calculus?”

 

“I can explain little else, save for the actual tutelage. Some mages consider magic wielding a science, others consider it an art. There are even some who feel it is a spiritual experience. How you open your mind is up to you – that is, if you can.” That was the last thing I needed to hear, and she knew it. Her expression did not change however, for as my instructor she would not hide the realities of magic from me. This she had informed me of many times.

 

We entered the upstairs room, and I was aghast to say the least. I was overwhelmed with the essence here. The air was thick and tasted heavily of tin. It was one big room, closed off from the outside. There were no windows, no torches, and the walls did not look like wood, but rather some fantastic metal. But despite the absence of the outside world, it was lit, from no particular place. I could see no light source, and Rachel this noted it as ‘mage light’. There were several desks, tables and glass contraptions organized throughout the room. Some desks were piled high with parchment. There was a full set of quills set at one end. A full bookshelf once again – though these books were different. They were much thicker, stronger and felt powerful to the touch. And on the far end was a shelf covered in things I had never seen stored before. Indeed some of the things I had never even heard of. “Components” Rachel said, is an aid to the magical study. Chicken feet, grass, flowers, iron, blood, and even the teeth of an ogre were a few of the items stored in various bags and vials.

 

Rachel sat me down, and placed a book down. It was empty, every page. “Your mage book.” She stated. Her speech was entirely in the Tongue of Magicks now. It was the only way to aptly describe with words, the ways of magic. “The time of truth Tekkorin. The fundamental concept of magic is guided by eight known forces and three theoretical principles…”

 

I didn’t die. I remember that distinctly. The concept was completely above any of the teachings before me. No math problem could have prepared me, no piece of literature could have compared. The first thing I remember was despair, truly and honestly. However, with a few months work, I began to grasp the basics. It was a different kind of science. The laws were not mortal, and that was the most difficult concept to comprehend.

 

However, learning what magic was, and understanding magic were two different things. I rushed myself, and tried to allow magic into my mind much too early, mistakenly letting my resolve guide my wisdom and not the other way around. As a result, I became frustrated easily. Rachel neither helped me into failure nor carried me to success. Without understanding, her methods of aiding me were frustrating. To the uneducated, she seemed to do nothing, though later I saw that she allowed my achievements to be my own. If I was to shape some perception of this concept, she would not dare help, as in doing so she may inadvertently destroy my image of the power. “If you’re learning to play the harp, I would not wish to teach you the lute.” This was amazingly contrary to her former teachings of a wizard’s life months before– which she almost completely controlled.

 

It took me a year to finally come to terms with my former failure, and then again I failed. Hasty! Too hasty! I cursed at the lack of patience I had. I had to. Rachel would not tell me when I was ready, though always she knew. Her eyes twinkled, for better or worse, and provided me for what I was fit or. She supported every decision I made, and guided me as she saw fit. I resolved to let time be non-existent, to be irrelevant to my training of capacity. I would take as long as required, and I would memorize every piece, every line of knowledge. Every word of language, every equation of equilibrium. I would review everything. I would be more than ready when I attempted again.

 

It was a leap of skill, Rachel explained. Once I could allow magic into my mind, there were few truly great hurdles left to leap. It was another four years before I attempted again. The house was quiet. The chimes stopped ringing, and the birds held their song. I breathed in the scent of magic, and let my mind open. There were the words on the paper that Rachel had helped me create, but they became merely a tap. I reached out, and let it flow. At first it overwhelmed me again. Then I persistently picked up the pieces to puzzle. It was an unbelievable experience that could not have occurred without the training. I realized that I simply did not have the capacity for it then. And even now, I could hold little. Like a juggler first learning, I could only handle so much. But I juggled.

 

I smiled, looked over to Rachel who had remained silent the entire time, and nodded. She smiled and sighed: relieved and happy for me, but still stern for the road ahead. There was no explosion, no dancing lights, nothing that would proclaim that I had achieved anything. But I had.

 

Rachel walked with an agenda. No more great hurdles, but now we had more lessons. “Follow me to the casting glyph. It will be easier there.” We went downstairs and outside to the great stone pattern around the backside of the house. She explained that there were certain properties in the glyph that tied into the theoretical principles. It was a lesson in itself, and took the better part of the afternoon. She was much more patient that I, it was obvious. But finally the time came to cast. I was to unleash the magics that I tempered into my brain. If I did not complete it correctly, they would not work (and with later, more complex spells, they would be wasted altogether). This I had a firm grasp on and it took me only a few tries before I had the ability mastered. My words echoed through the forest with a power I had not heard within myself before. My hands glided in the intricacies of their own world, and the puzzle completed itself. I could see the picture in its entirety.

 

It was a bittersweet accomplishment, though others would have called me crazy for thinking so. Everything opened up to me upon casting – it is not entirely explainable. The feeling that was about this place, was comfort, was magic. The mortality of its creation was opened to me. All of it was malleable. My abilities were far too meager to do much, but my knowledge was unlocked. It was an artificial creation. The feeling of myth was merely a power to be manipulated with mind and math. Sorrow crossed my face.

 

Rachel sighed, but was prepared for the successful casting. “It’s the hardest part. It’s not false, only changed. Everything you know now, and thought before, are still true. Magic is an element of the earth. It exists naturally, and that is splendor Tekkorin, that is true legend. You wished its knowledge, do not turn your back now. Embrace it. We’re family now.”

 

I could feel the aura surrounding her. It was strong and very powerful. She had embraced magic for a long, long time. And the cottage, it was not as simple as it once seemed. There existed woven within the oaken planks years of magic residue. I caught a piece of it: magic, and wafted it about. A strange feeling, not unlike a debate or discussion, though this did not fight back. It was a one sided discussion, and when I finished it had become perfect. To the naked peasant’s eye that metaphoric ‘discussion’ was a simple spell. I cast a slight show of light into the air – reds and blues. When my mind ceased to think of them, they ended with a “pop”.

 

Rachel smiled at me, and nodded. Now it was time to learn some real magic.

 

The next few months passed by most excitingly for me. Rachel too, could now take a more active role in my learning. She introduced me to all kinds of spells and knowledge. She had a keen interest in its creation, and knew many of the deep intricacies of magic.

 

Now it is important to jump back for a moment. While the days of my study were uneventful for me, that was not to say that Rachel was not busy. She spent a great deal of her time instructing me directly, but it was not entirely uninterrupted. Over the course of those five or six years, we had periodical visits from a fellow brother. The elf that I had originally seen upon my arrival was indeed a mage. His name was Trueleaf, and he spoke quietly with Rachel on occasion. What they spoke of I did not question, nor did I have time to care, for my studies were both intense in material and time.

 

And now came to pass my final chapters with Rachel. As my lessons grew more and more deep, the time passed quickly again. I learned many of the intricacies of a mage. Some epic details, some historic, and even some dangerous ones. Rachel hid nothing from me now when I asked, though still she would not volunteer information. She always seemed to have an answer when I required one. We had become quite close in the last few months; though still master and apprentice, we shared experiences much like brother and sister now.

 

Trueleaf came again as his usual schedule dictated, once a season, but this time it upset Rachel in some way. We had to leave immediately, and so I packed my bag. My new magical belongings found a safe place and easily accessible. ‘Quickly’ had no bounds, though a wizard’s patience prevailed. Rachel moved swiftly in her packing; not stopping but never running. Her thoughts were calm and clear. She listed the things that I would require. Never had she reminded me before, and so the implied necessity that I heed instructions, worried me as well. Trueleaf was going to meet us ‘there’ wherever it was. I knew better than to question now. Within an hour we were packed and ready to go.

 

We traveled for three days and four nights, and not one night went by when Rachel did not look to the stars with emotion. It was then that I inquired. “Rachel, I would not speak if you would not here me…”

 

She nodded, not removing her gaze from the stars. “I will.”

 

“I have paid no mind to the business of Trueleaf, but our departure is sudden and not of your nature. There has been only one other time that you have done such urgency, and that was when we first met. What goes on now?”

 

She looked to me. “Have you not yet read the stars?”

 

I nodded, knowing that she would ask me such a question. “Yes, I have. But I am still not as adept as you are, Stargazer. I know not what they speak of, save for impending danger. Enlighten me so that I may help us.

 

Rachel nodded solemnly. “We are the guidance of magic. You and I. Trueleaf. Wizards must self-govern the sin they unleash. We’re going to protect the use of magic.” Whilst she still spoke in riddles, Rachel would no longer keep me baffled on points of importance. “There is a mage by the name Meynovich who has entered the eastern boarders of the Empire. Trueleaf has been tracking him for some time now. He is not a good man. Careless and evil, he shames the name of mages, and uses his talent for destruction. We ride to fix the failing he creates.”

 

When we finally arrived at our destination, it was a dirt road that bent low into a small valley for several miles. It seemed sudden, the events. A kind of rush that I had not received through study. It was strange to be in the open again, practicing the event of life with the new ability of magic. It was strange to be out of the small cottage. There was an unsettling lack of security, but it was not completely unwelcome. Rachel had her face stern as she awaited the destiny of the day. It was not hard for me to deduce that this had been a long watched mage, and this event was not as sudden as it seemed.

 

Nonetheless I felt wary of my surroundings. I turned to Rachel and she replied before I spoke. “There will be discussion; he’ll know we’re waiting for him. He has avoided this fate for some time now, and will not submit to it willingly. He may speak to you; feel not the need to return his spiked tongue. He will not strike out at you if it comes to blows; his concern will be elsewhere.” Her face was stone. I had always seen expression, but now she seemed void of any sympathy and joy. In the distance a figure could be seen.

 

Trueleaf emerged from the trees, his elfish beauty trodden down by the events of the day. With a look to Rachel I could see that he too, took no joy in this day. He took two steps forward, and awaited Meynovich.

 

The figure approached slowly. The afternoon sun drowned in clouds as it drew closer and revealed a visible he, and again the sky grew darker as he drew closer and revealed a wizard. His hair was black, short, and unforgiving. He had beady black eyes, which shifted quickly amongst everything. His robes were a deep purple and he had a large tome under his arm. He stopped as if taken by surprise by our presence.

 

“Ahhh, the Elfish do-gooder. How do you do?” Meynovich sneered. Slowly it began to rain. “And why are you hindering my path? I have things to do.”

 

Trueleaf spoke slowly, as if speaking to goblins. His voice sounded musical as he played a solemn tune. “Meynovich, your latest crimes have gone undetected by the law, but not by the wisdom of magic. I have been sent to stop you once again. I’ll have your book, Meynovich.”

 

“Ha!” his single laugh seemed to mock the very ground on which Trueleaf spoke. “What makes you think you have the right to govern my actions? They are pure in their own way, Trueleaf, you’ve got too much elfish emotion to see that.”

 

“This has been a long time coming. I will not be faltered by your snaked tongue. Your book, Meynovich, or I’ll take it from you.”

 

Meynovich made to step forward, but stopped and glared in our direction. “You think you can just walk up to me and demand whatever you wish? You think that by bringing this pathetic excuse of back up will save you from the repercussions of your actions? Foolish, FOOLISH elf.” He was appalled, or looked it. His form seemed to grow, and his robes clung to his body in the light rain. His eyes flamed. “Get out of my way. Now.”

 

I felt impelled to do it. It came over me, later I would learn that it was my first encounter of offensive magic. I began to look away and took a step when a hand caught my robe, firmly. Without breaking eye contact with our enemy, Rachel ensured my continued residence with the situation. It snapped me out of it, I was sure, but Rachel did not release her delicate hand.

 

Moments later, I heard his laughter again: a cackling, evil disposition that struck fear into my heart. It was wise for Rachel to continue her hold on me. Trueleaf had not moved either, and glared at the mage. “Still, unconvinced?” Meynovich asked. “I’m not about to butt heads with you three. You’re obviously not a match for me,” sarcasm dripped from his throat. “I’ve done nothing, and you would not kill me in cold blood, now would you?” And he began to walk, clutching his book to his side, as if we did not exist on the road.

 

Rachel let go of my robes, and I could see her grasp something within her pocket. Trueleaf advanced on Meynovich, his hands extended to physically take the book. Meynovich took to this angrily and within a blink called down the lightning that he had brought with him. It struck Trueleaf squarely and convulsed. Rachel’s action was equally as quick, and with an extended hand called out. “Faldreck. Sia em!” A sound like a firecracker echoed and Meynovich flew flat on his back. The intense feeling returned to me, and before I knew it, I took to the bushes.

 

That was not the end of the battle. As I ran I heard many more cries and thunder ever roared above me. Eventually, I ran out of breath and was able only to sit and listen in a cowardly state. As I began to sit there, I could feel the artificial flavor of magic around me. It caused this fear, and I could not escape its cloud. Slowly it evaporated, but it took several minutes. Afterwards I realized the foolishness of my abilities. Manipulated by my only weapon, this was who I was. It was pathetic.

 

Rachel returned after some time. She seemed unscathed, and her smile had returned – as if nothing had happened. She calmed me down, and explained to me exactly what spell had been cast on me. It was not an unfamiliar one, I had seen it in my teachings, though was not able to recognize it in the field. “That will pass,” she explained. It took me days to get over the fact that the fear was not actually my own. A disturbing reality that my mind knew, but my heart would not let go.

 

Rachel said nothing of the battle I missed, nor did I enquire, save for the safety of Trueleaf who was “Well enough, all things considered. He will recover.” We took our time going home, I enjoyed the outdoors. It had been a long time since I had traveled and I found a heightened curiosity for it. Rachel caught me on many occasion peering off into the distance, and laughed.

 

When we finally returned to the cabin, I felt comforted. It was not the same as it had been before, but my absence from it made me feel at home once more. We took to the deck for an evening and shared a bottle of wine. The cloud and rain that had come disappeared, and the stars once again found their way out into the night sky. They were at peace, and were reassured in their status. “How is it that you can read the stars so well?” I asked. It was a peasant’s question, I knew, but it was something to get the conversation started. I did not expect a straight answer.

 

“Time. Patience. Practice. What do you read tonight?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with the knowledge of tomorrow.

 

“Completion. Things are over now. New beginnings, maybe?”

 

My teacher sipped her wine. “Perhaps. Old things are ready to begin again, Tekkorin. That is what they say. There is rarely a new beginning, they say.”

 

I doubted her wisdom, though not her words. I did not need to speak, for after all this time, she had come to know my thoughts… or perhaps she had always known them. “There is too much in the world for new beginnings, but old quests are often taken with renewed stride. A rouge returns to the town of his father’s debt. A bard finally recalls the ways of luck and charm.” She gazed strongly at the stars for a moment and caused a brief pause in her speech. “A mother returns her spirit to its owner,” she continued, “A soldier pays his dues to a lost cause. An elf affirms his wisdom.” She smiled at that one. I sipped my wine now, pleased with the allusion. Trueleaf was alright.

 

And then, as if straining to see the last piece of the puzzle, Rachel nodded solemnly and smiled. She leaned back into her chair again, her hair falling beside her as she took a lingering sip of her drink. It took her white robes a moment to settle in the breeze. “And a wizard continues a forgotten adventure.”

 

It was true. I had not even recalled the feeling of adventure since my time first with Rachel. After Paul died, so did my flare and passion for wanting to ride into the sunset. It was still there though, fuelled now by the confirmation that it may be in the stars. Rachel seemed to have a firm understanding of my thought patterns, as usual.

 

“There is little that you could not teach yourself now, Tekkorin. I have taught you well enough.”

 

Think of the splendors of exploring a new world. It taunted me. So much I had not seen, and now, so much magic was out there. It was not greed this time – I did not want to own the magic or riches or legend, but I wanted to be a part of a life that explored them. I wanted to experience what the world had to offer. If Rachel and Trueleaf were the kinds of wizards that were out there, then perhaps I could meet other practitioners… though I would never meet an equal to my tutor.

 

I was to be warned, that equal to our kind, there were more Meynovich’s about, but danger was a welcome price. I was not afraid of what hand Fate, or the life of magic had dealt for me, but it was not time for me to waste away in cottage. I had to experience things at least. Take a trip.

 

With common understanding, it came again, that cloud. I was sad to go, and I got the feeling that Rachel was as well – though even to this day, some eighteen years of knowing her, I could not read her thoughts. She had prepared me well, allowing me some of her spells, and her components. Everything a wizard needed she had, but she did not empty her pockets for me, so to speak. A good fir, a tent, it seemed that in all her years here she knew exactly what an adventurer needed. No doubt a few had stumbled by.

 

We found ourselves again outside, she had given me a steed (its origin still a mystery to me, though not a far cry from an assumption of magic) as well, to aid my journey. I found again my tongue trapped. Sentiment had always been powerful in my heart, but rarely was it apt in my speech.

 

“I, don’t know what to say, Rachel. How long has it been? Eighteen years. I will recall your tutelage often.”

 

She laughed. It was not at me, her laughter had never been cruel, and it had never been mistaken for it. “I should hope so, Tekkorin,” she did not need to convey anything as I felt the need to. She seemed at peace with the parting that was taking place, as she had been with every event that I had known her for. “I have given you several maps of the area, and, should you wish it, an exit from the realm of the Empire. I suggest that if you wish to leave, that map is the route you take. They are accurate.”

 

I thanked her profusely, and packed my things onto the horse. “I guess this is it.”

 

She smiled again, knowing the answer to that guess, and yet still ignoring its presence. “There is one more thing. Take this. She produced from inside the house a wooden cane. It had been well sanded and had the ornate designs of wizards carved delicately into its shaft. The cane itself was plain, and seemed to be so deliberately. I inquired with my eyebrow and Rachel nodded. “When your wisdom lacks, it’s something to lean on.”

 

I took a deep breath and mounted the horse. The scent of lavender was strong now. Lilac and tulips wafted about as well. “I hope time is as kind to me as it has been to you, Wizardess of the Wood,” I said with a wink. “I wish you well.”

 

“And I you, Tekkorin Karros, Wandering Mage of the North,”

 

“Apprentice of Stargazer,” I added. “Goodbye and farewell.” Rachel nodded a final time and then returned to the deck. And, like water-clockwork, I heard the chimes as I rode into the winds of fate, and times unknown. I had come as a mere child into her domain, saved by the times that can not be changed. And now, we parted ways. I, was a quickly aging man by any child’s stereotype to begin an adventure of yesterday, and she a ‘retiring’ wizard, not a day over thirty.

 

I rode for a great while, and it is unimportant where I had intended to go. As I ventured ever through the roads and trees I began to laugh, and hum. And before I knew it, the stars cast true and I began to sing, because that was the time, and those were dreams.

 

“Hey ho! Ho hey!

I see the sights,

And breathe the heights,

And travel along the dusty way.

 

“I’ll lie awake, and see the stars,

I’ll stop wholly, and hear the heart,

I’ll look ahead, and watch the wild,

 

“Hey ho! Ho hey!

I’m never done,

I walk with sun,

And where I’ll end, I cannot say.

 

“Where I’ll end, I cannot say.”

[Justin Silverblade]

An Author’s Notes

 

This story had a duel purpose, and in writing it, ultimately I think was not completely successful on either front. I don’t think that it was entirely a failure, but it was an almost impossible task to do justice to both efforts. So as an addition I think it’s not a bad idea to speak about some of the things that were explored.

 

It was to be a piece of literature – a piece of fiction dedicated to a wizard’s ways. To explore the myth, and to properly explore all the aspects that a wizard could have in every day life: both in a wizard to be, Tek, and a wizard already created and active, Rachel.

 

It was also to be a piece of history, for Tek as a DnD character. This is his past, and *should* suit the character he is, and how he was able to be who he was when the campaign I’m playing takes place. Granted not all the history will be there, but it is important to keep some things a mystery, so there is always the ability to expand on his past.

 

There are two parts to Tek’s life, the mortal side and the mythical side. As a general rule of environment, myth ventures to mortal realms and not the other way around (which explains the rarity of myth). The conflict between these is what created a traveling wizard instead of a stable one. This is first hinted in the opening paragraph, and is confirmed by the final page of the story. There are many single-event separations that are included in the story. All in all his life with Rachel was an entirely separate one from his life with Jardain. His only link between the two was Gerard, as a magical bard. It was that link that guided him over into Rachel’s arms inadvertently with the map incident. Rachel ‘saw in the stars’ that Tek would need help and so Tek is brought by myth into myth.

 

Upon Tek’s return home, when we see the dagger plunged into the map and his father’s disdain in their finding nothing of Tek’s disappearance. His father could not breach the gap that Tek had crossed over without realization. When Tek did realize it, “awoke from a dream” he turned back into the mortal world, and found himself confronted with many ‘what ifs’ created by his encounter the mythical realm.

 

Jack served as a reminder of the sole mortal world. Had Tek and Paul not ventured into the woods at all, Tek may have been journeying off with Jack (obviously a thief or of a thief’s family). A realm not at all to Tek’s approval.

 

Dellrite, and Klothryn’s death, signified the choice that Tek had, if he wished to not return to the mythical realm. Hardship, and his ever lacking ability to help. It would be a difficult road, especially since he had missed so much of it. The cane that he had from the limp was a link to the mortal world that he existed from – gained only from hardship. Rachel would not allow a link from mortal to myth, as to assure the reader that there could be no mortal to myth, only myth to mortal.

 

Julia’s character held a unique role in the story. Her absence when Tek returns from myth signifies the loss that he will receive by taking that path. It is a lose-lose situation. There is no eternal answer where you can have your cake and eat it too. Her item, however, the whistle, was not taken away like the cane. It served not as a mortal to myth item but a hint that, while there will always be losses in life, there can be memories of the past. Rachel does not disallow the item, partially perhaps due to the choice Juila signified/supported, or perhaps because of Julia’s link to myth (via Gerard) nor do we ever hear of the whistle again.

 

Gerard’s character turned out to be very much a taboo of what Tek could become if he was not careful. The lifestyle seems perfect in the beginning, and Tek adores it along with the other children. But on Tek’s return from a magical environment, Gerard hints at bad things between him and wizards. It was a warning not to go half assed into such a realm – and it stirred Tek into the calling of myth and magic (one notably that he could not have entered without the former horse of Rachel. Only those who had been myth could cross the gap into myth).

 

These character’s hints are all revealed further at the end of the story, in the final star reading. Jack turns back to face his problems, but it runs in the family and has always been a problem to fix; with him, Tek’s life would have been a constant ‘poor house – law’ difficulty. Dellrite, returns to an honourable path by ‘paying his dues’ to a lost cause – signifying continued hardship but not continued struggle. Julia’s not mentioned, reaffirming the loss that must come with every decision. Gerard is described as “finally recalling luck and charm.” It is a positive outlook but does not speak to the skill and intelligence that Tek wished for his life. He did not want to get by on luck, but “ride the winds of fate.” His mother is mentioned as passing on, which signifies as an end to the past (and decision) completely.

 

In making his decision for better or worse to turn to myth completely we are allowed proof of a wizard’s way. We see the protective role that is constantly played by the wizard. When Tek comes across the orc (the missing number from the one they fought previously) there is a reference to the Hermit Lady of Death, hinting that it was indeed Rachel’s hand that slew them.

 

Furthermore the incident with Meynovich is the new struggle that we see Tek has to deal with. Trueleaf and he are the myth equivalent of Dellrite and Klothryn’s death, and it is the first time we actually see the struggle between wizards, though it is hinted time and time again. And, during it, we see the pull of myth to mortal, that continuation of the conflict that has plagued Tek for the entirety of his young life.

 

When he makes his decision to meld the two (as he can now, without having to worry about following Gerard’s path, being of myth), Rachel returns the cane/gives a new cane to him to signify that he can bring myth into mortal now, and that he is a mythical creature, and not a mortal one. Tek’s comfort with this is shown at the end of the story with the poem (which at the time was a comfort of the child).

 

It also foreshadows of evil happenings, as the last time Tek sang that song goblins arose, which is a perfect lead in to the campaign I play with him.

 

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!