The Wizards Heir 2014 Lawrence J Cohen P a g e | 1

The Wizards Heir

Smoke from the fireplace assaulted Geoffryns nose more than usual this night. Candlelight washed wavering shadows across the inns sturdy cedar walls, appearing to be the shades of creepy goblins or orcs. Drunken laughter filled the room, causing the boy to flinch. Mindlessly, he stirred the greasy mutton stew with a wooden spoon, now and then taking a bite. He hadnt even touched his flagon of watered down wine. Uncle Zatherin? Geoff had cried, knowing there wouldnt be an answer. Billowing smoke rose in a column from the holms small orchard. The outer wall had been breached, the stables were naught but a smoldering heap of ashes. Miraculously, the tower itself was untouched. Afraid the soldiers would return at any time, Geoffryn had quickly gathered what he could, thrown it all into a deerskin rucksack, snatched up his uncles ash staff as it leaned against the laboratory wall, and mounted Snowwind again, not knowing whenor even ifhe would ever return. Ingus, that ol mage had it comin a long time now, a drunken voice said, carrying across the inns common room. Full o airs, like all nobs! E probably roasted the entrails o wee ones for is spells, e did! I erd e could turn lead inta gold, Ingus drinking companion whispered back, as he swallowed the last of his tankard of ale, then banged on the worn table for more. Anoter round, Bess! Ye gots the bit ta pay for it? the barwench asked dubiously. Her ratty hair was loose, and she was missing a few teeth where customers decided to show her the back of their hand instead of settling accounts. A hulking brute of a man, half orc from the looks of him, stood by the door, keeping an eye on things. Both wench and bouncer relaxed when Ingus tossed silver onto the stained and worn wood table. The coin glinted in the firelight, and caught Geoffs eye. Instantly, his quick intellectalong with his youthful imaginationdeduced that this man was hired to do the foul deed. Or at least, he was part of the gang of outlaws that did. The wench quickly returned with a tankard of ale for the man, its rim awash in rich foam. As the ruffian lifted the ceramic tankard to his lips, Geoffryn concentrated, and spoke strange sounding words that were never meant for a human throat to pronounce. In a twinkling, the tankard shattered into several pieces, drenching the man in golden ale. Jiminy Kris! Ingus exclaimed, while his companions broke into peals of laughter, at his expense. He frowned deeply, shouting at the bar maid. Ye half-crazed whore! Whatstha idea! The somewhat homely girl frowned back, resting one hand on her ample waist. Watch who yere callin a whore, rotgut!

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Ill treat ye like one, ifn ye dont hurry up an fetch me nother alein a pewter tankard this time! The girl glanced at her boss, Curtcul, who sadly shook his meaty head, wiping mugs behind the bar. She hesitated but a moment before fetching another round, determined to demand payment for this one, as well. A moment later, the single candleflame on the ruffians table whooshed three feet toward the roof, before it died down again. All three men at the table stared at it and swallowed. Then, the mutton pot pie flew up from the plate, and hit one of the toughs smack in the face, leaving pie crust, peas, and meat dripping from his beard. Bleedin place is haunted! a third man cried out, half rising out of his seat. As he watched, writing appeared on the gnarled old tabletop, in letters glistening red as blood:

MURDERER
Ingus jumped to his feet, swallowed audibly, then his bushy eyebrows knit together above his beady black eyes. He quickly scanned the crowd, settling on the lone boy sitting at a far table, staring at them all strangely. A young boy wearing mages robes. Langknyf, ye halfwit! Place aint haunted! Tis the mages brat! he yelled, pointing a beefy forefinger at the youngster, then drawing a wicked looking blade, nearly as long as a shortsword. It glinted in the candlelight, thirsting for more blood. Ill carve me name inta ye, laddie! Surprised you could spell, the boy rose lightly to his feet, contempt and hatred in his voice. His left hand clasped the worn and familiar ash staff that had belonged to his uncle, some unknown, powerful magic set upon it. He pointed his right index finger directly at Ingus, and barked a strange word of power. Instantly, a pale blue ray of light lanced across the common room, illuminating Ingus face. The man screamed, dropped the knife, clutching his face, which was now coated with icy frost. Git him! Lang, Graver, git him! Swift as thought, the two ruffians drew weapons, and began crossing the room, toward the lone boy. They scarcely noticed a glint of firelight on metal, finely crafted armor that gleamed more brilliantly than solid silver. I think nae, the stocky dwarf said, making the statement a command. He only stood three and a half feet, but seemed taller. Mithral armor gleamed resplendently in the light. His flaming red, curly beard lay braided across his breastplate. Steely gray eyes bore into the three men, beneath bushy eyebrows arched in displeasure. In his thick, deerskin gauntleted hands, the

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paladin bore a dwarven warhammer, beautifully crafted, and covered with blocky runes. Stand ye back, if ye care ta live. Snarling, the men stepped forward, intending to stride over the meddling dwarf in their haste to get to the young boy in the mages robes. They seriously underestimated their adversary. In less than five heartbeats, both were lying on the floor, a chest caved-in, or a leg broken, by the mighty gleaming warhammer. The dwarf harrumphed, turned his back on the screaming men, and strode on over to the boy. Thank you, friend, but Geoffryn began. A heavy dwarven hand pushed the lad backward into a chair. He forcibly sat down, looking up and sputtering. What Yere a wee too small ta be pickin a bar fight, me lad, the dwarf said by way of greeting. Those two coulda cut ye up bad. I can take care of myself, Geoff protested. Im a mage! The dwarf smiled at him, and sat down in the chair next to the boy. Yere a prentice who kens hes all powerful. Yere nae. I got bairns o me own older than ye! Geoff flashed his tongue across his lips to wet them, and nervously glanced at the two ruffians, moaning and writhing on the tavern floor. They killed my uncle! I have to question them. An they shall be questioned, but nae by ye, the dwarf said, brooking no argument. Well met, Geoffryn Kaladon. My names Sard Deepaxe. My companions are Thorngrim Balloc and the lass is Aetheriel Windleaf. How Twasnt hard ta figure out, laddie. Laird Zatherin Kaladon only had one apprentice in residence, which is obviously ye, he motioned the serving wench over, and slid a glittering gold piece into her palm. Thats fer yer trouble, and Ill have nother pint o spiced ale. The girl frowned at him. Aint no trouble, sir! Ye saved half the tables and chairs this night! Aye, an ye still hafta clean up their blood, Tess, Sard corrected. The serving wench left to fetch the knight a tall, foaming tankard, as the boy quickly scanned the room, his blue eyes darting everywhere.

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Where are your companions? I see a number of men who might be this Thorngrim fellow, but there are only three woman present, and none of them look like they bear an Elvish name like Aetheriel. Aye, yere quick! Both are outside, tending the horses, and like as not, questioning the friends of this sorry lot, Sard told him. So, ye planned ta avenge yer uncle with a few cantrips? Or, were ye lookin for a band of brave adventurers ta help ye? I know more than a few cantrips, Geoff told him proudly, sticking his chin out. The magic that shattered the blokes tankard was powerful! Sos yer average crossbow, Sard muttered into his beard. Tess arrived with his drink, just as the door to the tavern opened, letting in a brisk, wet wind. A female elf, clad in forest green hunting leathers, with a quiver of arrows and a longbow across her back, came into the large room. A lean, muscular man, taller than the elfmaid by a head and half, followed. He wore black leather with steel rings sewn into the armor, and a sheathed longsword lay against his left hip. After glancing around the room, the pair made straight for their table. Your work? the elfmaid asked, thumbing toward Ingus and Langknyf. She doffed her soaked, deep forest green cloak, and draped it across a chair before settling down into it. The man sat down across from her, gave Geoff a nod, and took a pipe and a pouch of weed from a breast pocket. We met some poor bloke running out of here like Lavawrath the Red wyrm was after him. Seemed to have too much gold on him for a trapper. Ye get a name from him? Sard pressed. His adams apple bobbed as he drew a long draft from his ale. I assume ye dont mean his own, Aetheriel returned. Mentioned Heinricus Darkboon. Sound familiar? Both dwarf and boy stared at her. He came to Mageholm once, a few years agone, Geoffryn piped up. Uncle Zatherin met with him privately. His rooms were sealed with magic. I couldnt even hear what they were saying. Not that you didnt try, Sard put in, smiling. He gave the boys hand a gentle pat. Never fear, milad. Well find Heinricus Darkboon, and see justice done! He couldnt have been working alone, Geoffryn said after a moment, certainty in his voice. Course he wasnt, Sard told him. Man like hims got lackeys, hirelings, and other assorted ilk.

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Thats not what the kid meant, Aetheriel said. Is it? The boy shook his head, his long raven hair flying. No. I think I recall a dark knight with him that day. Can ye describe him? Sard asked. Tall, mayhap twelve stone in weight. Black hair, blue eyesthe eyes weredead. Thats what struck me first time I saw him. His armor was shiny black, I think it was enameled steel. Oh, and he had a large purple cloak with a hood, and gold trim, Geoff said. I cast a spell on him, and the man positively radiated magic. With a purplish aura. Thats necromancy. A dark knight would explain all the trash weve been fighting, Aetheriel said, with a meaningful look at the dwarf. Aye, it might, he grudgingly allowed. Have ye asked the mage about the treasures we found? the man asked, speaking up for the first time. Both Sard and Aetheriel looked at him askance. The boys an apprentice, Thorngrim, Sard told him plaintively. So? the fighter asked, a thin eyebrow arching. He should know enough to tell us what it is, Tamleins sake! I agree. He was Zatherin Kaladons apprentice, and his kin, the elfmaid said. Reluctantly, the dwarf paladin pulled a small sack out from under his cloak, untied it from a thick brown leather belt, and laid the contents onto the table. A beautiful walnut wand, encrusted with jewels, glittered in the candlelight. Next to it, was a small glass vial containing an orange fluid, and twinkling between them both, a small obviously solid silver ring, with a small sapphire set into it. Geoffryn passed his hand over the items on the table, chanted a few words in Eldritch, and all three items began to glow with a pearlescent light. Well, theyre enchanted, Geoff announced. Id need time and quiet to identify their dweomers properly. What else will you need? Aetheriel asked. Elves might not all become mages, but they all grew up around it. Three pearls, each worth a hundred gold apiece, crushed into powder, three flight feathers from an owl, and three glasses of wine, Geoffryn repeated from memory. We have all of that at Mageholm.

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And how much do you charge for this? Thorngrim asked, his green eyes glinting. The boy shrugged. I never did it for pay ere now. Uncle just gave me the items and asked me to identify them properly, as a test. I knew it! the man cried out. I knew all those goody-goody mages were robbing us all these years! They all gave those items to their apprentices to identify, and charged us a kings ransom, pretending they did it themselves! Lower yer voice, ye clod! Sard hissed, his eyes glancing around the common room. Ye want evra-one ta ken weve a fortune on us? Thorngrim smiled at him. Like they cant figure out were treasure-seeking adventurers from our dress. Much less the treasure you just dumped on the table, the elfmaid put in with a wide grin. She reached over and rustled the boys thick hair. Im sure Geoff herell do fine. Sard drew another swallow from his pint. Lad cannae be more than ten! Im fourteen, Geoffryn replied, sticking his chin out. Fifteen this midsummer. There ya go, Aetheriel said, her hand hovering near the boys head. We found us a new mage! Are ye daft, she-elf? The boys like as not to get hisself killed! Thorngrim put in. Just like Questris, Ilmark, Ryneath, and Rickis, Sard agreed. Who? Geoff asked. His head turned from the dwarf to the man. Our last mage, mercenary, cleric, and good-for-nothing thief, in that order, Sard explained, upending his tankard again. The serving wench was returning with a plate laden with food and drink for them. Ilmark was Thorngrims companion, both hired on four years ago. Aetheriel made a sign against evil in the air. Dont speak ill of the dead, Sard. You, a paladin, of all people! The dwarf shrugged. Doesnt change the truth. Rickis Kuhn was trash from Blackwater. Probably burnin in the Nine Hells right now. Thank ye, Tess. Heres three more silver. Now fetch me another pint o this rather excellent swill ye humans have the nerve ta call ale.

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Yer gonna get drunk again, Sard Deepaxe, Tess warned, and left to fetch the requested drink. Thorngrim tsked at his friend across the table, wagging a finger. We might have need of your hammer ere this nights work is done, old dwarf, he warned. Yer not me daddy, Sard returned, then belched. Foam dripped from his mouth to his long, braided beard. And youre not this lads pa, Thorngrim pointed out. To Geoffryn, he asked, You know any combat magic? Geoffryn nodded. More n a little. I could burn this tavern to the ground without trying. Fireballs? the fighter asked. Geoff hesitated a moment. Not yet, but I can conjure a large rolling ball of fire, and shoot flames from my hands. Good enough for me, Aetheriel pronounced. You said your masters tower isnt far from here? A league, Geoffryn said cautiously. In truth, hed left in a hurry, certain the glowing pile of ashes and bone were the remains of his uncle and two retainers. Even now, he shuddered at the memory. Good. Well go thereafter we finish this fine repast, of course! Sard said.

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Chapter Two
The kid finished yet? Tis three hours, I judge. Thorngrim asked, leaning up against a thick, stone pillar in the wizards tower. The structure had five storeys, each one occupying a circular space fifty feet in diameter. Currently, the fighter and Aetheriel lounged in the parlor, right off the foyer. It was luxuriously appointed, with stuffed velvet pillows on the chairs and couches, and fruit tempting visitors on silver platters that rested upon polished oak tables. The stone pillar Thorngrim leaned upon was the central stairway, which ran through the length of the whole tower. Aetheriel sipped a goblet of fine wine and shrugged. Geoffryn seems to know what hes doing, Thorngrim. Seems to me, hes being slow and careful. Why dont you grab something to eat? The kitchens right through there, and the pots seem to cook by themselves. Hmmm. What else would we expect from the home of a powerful wizard? the man replied. You know, this might make a suitable stronghold for us. We could store our loot here, instead of that old wyrms cavern in Polanx. You seriously want to trust a stronghold that was invaded by a dark knight and an evil mage? Aetheriel returned. She pointedly did not mention the burnt and blackened bones of the wizard who used to live here, Geoffryns uncle. While the boy got to work in the laboratory at the top of the tower, they had quietly buried the remains, and Sard pronounced the last rites upon them. Lacking a cleric after Ryneath Chirkleberry was dissolved in the acidic saliva of a swamp dragon, the paladin since served in that role. Theyd laid Zatherin Kaladon to rest under a mighty oak tree outside, just thirty feet from the river that surrounded the holm, a small island in the middle of the Twin Creek River. There was only one bridge connecting the small island with the shore, and that was still intact, its magical defenses obliterated, however. Mayhap youre right, Thorngrim muttered, and stalked off in search of something to eat. He hoped the elfmaid hadnt seen his scowl; she was far too bright for his taste. He preferred his women more quiet and obedient. The fighter found the kitchen neat and tidy, with the aroma of a bubbling stew filling the air. He grabbed a wooden bowl and spoon, then ladled some for himself. Mayhap I can think of a way to convince Sard to leave our things here laterat least a few chests of coins and jewels, so itll be a lot closer than the dragons old lair. Ebonwrath left the largest hoard Id ever seen. The only problem was how to move it all, till Sard suggested we simply leave it there, with an illusion of a live dragon to scare off the curious. Realizing he was talking to the kitchen rats, he scowled and left the kitchen. The man spun his personal plans, and munched on the tasty stew, wandered through a lavish formal dining room, and on up the carved stone steps. The second level featured living quarters for the towers residents, including a rather luxurious suite of rooms for the lord wizard. The apprentice had a somewhat more modest chamber on the same level, which included a single bed with a feather mattress, a polished oaken desk, and a bookcase. A garderrobe and bathroom lay between the

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two chambers, opposite the servants quarters. The third level featured a complete library, an attached study, a conjuring room, and a magically sealed door the boy said guarded a magical armory and vault (Thorngrim reflected that hed have to check on that room later.) The fourth floor, which the man finally reached, featured a fully equipped arcane laboratory, a solar, and a storage space. Guest quarters were on this level as well. The final level, the roof, was reached through a trap door at the top of the steps. From there, the towers defenders could hurl fireballs and other spells down upon their attacking enemies, survey the small island, or just study the stars through a rather expensive brass telescope. In a pinch, the gargoyles by the battlements came to life as golems. Only one of the granite statues was left on the barbican, unawakened when the tower was attacked the previous day. Thorngrim suspected there must be a dungeon beneath the tower as well, for food storage, if nothing else. He came to a solid oak, iron-banded door and rapped his knuckles upon it. When Sards muffled voice responded, Thorngrim gently pushed the door open and stepped inside. The boy was seated at a desk in a comfortable looking stuffed chair, as when he last saw him, hours ago. The candle on the desk had burnt down to one-third of its former height. The whole chamber smelled of decaying roses, lilies, bats wings, lizard tails, bat guano, and other strange scents. Sard sat in an overstuffed armchair, reading an ancient tome, with a tall stack of books and scattered scrolls at his elbow. A cold cup of tea occupied a small table to his left. The holy knight smoked a corncob pipe, nearly oblivious to his surroundings. Thorngrim wandered on over to the mage apprentice, who was concentrating on the potion in his hands, the boys blue eyes glazed over, as he sat in trance. Thorngrim, careful not to disturb Geoffryn, and the concentration necessary for spellcasting, sat in the rooms only remaining chair, and finished his stew. Presently, the boy looked up, rubbed his eyes, and focused on the two adult men in the room with him. I think I finally have it. Both men looked up at this, silently waiting for the boy to continue. This ring contains a low-rank spell that slows a falling body. Tis called Featherfall. The dweomer comes alive when the wearer falls more than five feet. This wand, he went on, picking up the delicatelooking stick, Conjures thick, sticky webbing. I know the spell, which is a good thing, cause tis not fully charged with magic. Only 28 conjurings remain. Sard looked hard at him. Still, tis better than nothing, lad. Youll learn that, when youre down in a dangerous underground cavern, and most of yer spells have been cast, with more of the enemy coming at ye! Gods above and below, Questris learnt that! How he bellowed that he needed a wand or two! Thorngrim agreed, reflecting fondly on their fallen comrade. This reminder put Sard into a seemingly foul moodeven though that was normal for the crusty old dwarf paladin. He pointed at the remaining item on the table. And the bottle of potion, lad?

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Holding the wand in his left hand, Geoffryn picked up the small glass phial. A powerful dweomer that wards gainst arrows in flight! This is mayhap the most powerful of the three, but alas, tis only good for a single use. Know ye the spell? Thorngrim asked. The boy sadly shook his head. Nay. The only abjuration that powerful I know magically seals doors, permanently. I was mostly concentrating on evoking the preternatural elements, and conjuration, and divination. The dwarf harrumphed. If yer ta wear the White Robes like yer uncle, ye better concentrate on wards and abjurations. Geoffryn smiled at that. Thats what Uncle Zatherin always sayssaid, he corrected himself. He was pensive a moment, then hesitantly asked, Think you well truly gain vengeance? If the gods are willing, Sard told the boy. Now, methinks ye should retire for the night, get yer sleep. Well decide what to do at first light. Geoffryn nodded, stiffly rose from the chair hed sat in for long hours, and left the laboratory. He descended the stone steps, and instinctively headed for his own room, even though the whole tower technically belonged to him, now, along with that luxurious four-poster bed with the silk sheets and velvet curtains. The fist-sized crystal on his desk obediently came to life as he entered the room. It was as hed left it, hours ago. The cedar chest at the foot of his bed lay open, his clothes tossed and rumpled. The bed was still made, as the old retainer, Bilar left it, hours before hed been murdered. Lesley, the librarian, was the towers only other servant. Geoff sighed, just now realizing that he was lord of Mageholm, and would have to see to hiring new servants. Folk he could trust, who wouldnt mind that their predecessors had been killed by their masters enemies. Till then, magic dweomers would keep the tower neat and tidy, the rushes replaced, the basins and pots filled with water, the larders stuffed, everything dusted and polished. The outer barbican mightve been breached, but the protective wards guarding the tower itself were still intact. No one had gotten into the vault, although someone had obviously tried. Whatever theyd come to rob, it was somewhere else in the structure, or on Zatherins person. The boy doffed his soft leather traveling boots and robes, climbed into bed, and commanded the crystal to go dark. At least Im not alone on this quest any longer.

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Chapter Three
A rooster crowed, waking Geoffryn at first light. For a moment, hed forgotten the horrific events of the past day, stretching, and thinking hed have to sharpen the nibs of quills for the days copying of magical scrolls, and taking of meticulous notes. Warm golden sunlight flowed in through the open window, which faced east. A gentle breeze wafted through the small chamber. Then, the boy remembered. Im lord of Mageholm, he thought, sadly, and sat up in bed, watching the sunlight stream in through the window, dust mites dancing. Wetness came to his blue eyes unbidden. He wiped his face, crossed the room to the waiting basin, washed, and dressed in his finest mages robes, the silk ones in white, with royal blue lining and gold thread trim. He slipped a pouch containing arcane reagents needed to cast magic and a sheathed dagger onto a thick leather belt and cinched it, slipped on soft brown leather boots, and finished with a very fine cloak. It was royal blue silk and velvet, with numerous moonstones, and quite valuable. Geoffryn sat at his small desk, opened his thin traveling spellbook, and selected the incantations he thought he might need this day, and in the days to follow. He committed the spells to memory until the very runes burned brightly in his mind, the magic tingled inside of him. He closed the book, and slipped it into a deerskin rucksack. His spellbook was nearly full, 47 pages written in. After a moment, Geoff pulled another, blank book from the shelf above his desk, and added that to his pack. Then, he selected three scrolls his uncle had given him earlier, to learn, one of which repelled arrows in flight. He rolled these up carefully, stuffed them into a sturdy wooden scrollcase, and sealed it. The boy left the room, descended the stairs, and joined the others at breakfast in the kitchen. Aetheriel smiled at him as he entered the room. You always dress so formal ta break your fast, milord? Hmm? Geoffryn asked, as he started ladling some steaming hot oatmeal into a bowl. Oh, you mean the cloak. Twas a gift from my mother when I first came to live at Mageholm. She said Id grow into it. Tis enchanted? Sard asked, pointing his spoon at the boy. Geoff sadly shook his head. Uncle said I had to learn to enchant it myself. Ive the spell for a warding, but I still havent figured out how to get the cloth to hold the magic.

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Yell need something ere ye come with us, lad, Sard told him. If ye have no magic cloak, then at least yell have ta wear leather armor. Geoffryn looked right at him, and nodded. I think theres a magic ring in the armory. Uncle said not to use those artifacts until I understood how to cast a spell myself, but Id rather use the ring than wear armor that might make my magic fail. Good. Have ye weapons in that armory o yourn? Sard asked. Of course! Show me, the dwarf insisted. Right after breakfast. As Aetheriel stepped silently into the room, as wispy as a fresh breeze, Geoffryn was trying to explain his plans for the day. I thought, if I am to hire new retainers to care for Mageholm while were gone, Id better look the part of a lord. Thats wise thinking, Sard told the boy. Cept, I already sent a message to some friends o mine, ta do just that. They live in Boyden, not far from here. Barely three days journey. Coliey and Aeoldeth. Ones handy with tools, and tinkering, and gardenin, the others a budding loremaster. They should take care o the place for ye, right enough. Geoff made a face. I thank you for your kindness, good dwarf, butI did want to hire these people myself. Sides, I need a manservant who Sards grey eyes bore into the lad, silencing him. An I suppose yeve had years o experience judgin folk, eh? Yere bright, and talented in the Art o Magic, Ill give ye that. Yet, yer but a scrawny twig o a bairn, an apprentice mage who can barely boil water. Leave the hirin ta us as knows better. Dwarf, leave the boy be, the elfmaid insisted, striding up to the table. Young he may be, but hes got courage enough for this crew! Din say he din, Sard returned. Questris was brave, right enough. But a mage has nae business gettin in the way o a orc! Ye, remember that, laddie. Hang back, cast yer magic spells from a safe distance. Leave the fightin ta us as knows how! Chastened, Geoff nodded silently. He mixed honey into his porridge, and looked up at the elfmaid. Were you standing guard last night? Aetheriel nodded. Up on the battlements. Saw naught but a hare, and the owl that killed it. Mageholm has a reputation to match Caerleon. Even a day later, no one dares go near this place.

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Uncle placed powerful spells upon the holm, Geoffryn told her. Not just the tower, but the whole isle, and much of the land around the river. It took a vastly powerful mage to break through those dweomers, and theyre still in place. How can ye tell? Sard asked. I just know, Geoffryn replied. Sides, the fog blows up thick, and the trees still move. One can get good an lost, if you dont know how to find this place. A man could wander around for a fortnight, pass within a hundred yards of the bridge, and never even know it! Truly? Sard said. Hmmm. Mayhap we should just wait for Coliey and Aeoldeth ta arrive, ere we take our leave. At this, the boy looked alarmed. You werent just going to up and leave the tower abandoned? Heaven forefend, Sard told him. Yet, it bothers me ta let the enemy get too far ahead o us. Those black-souled devils already have a good days lead on us. I dont want to delay moren another day. After breakfast, Geoffryn led his new companions to the third level of the tower, to show them the contents of the vault. The boy, for just an instant, felt a twinge of fear, allowing these three perfect strangers into the most secure chamber of the entire Tower of Mageholm, then just as quickly dismissed it. Their leader, gruff as he was, was a holy paladin, a knight of the most sterling character. If Geoff couldnt trust him, he couldnt trust anyone in the world. Thorngrim went straight toward the barred and locked steel door, eagerly anticipating the priceless riches contained within the vault. Geoffryn looked askance at the fighter, his black curls resting on his shoulders. What are you doing? Thorngrim waved his hand at the door. Is this not the entrance? Nay, Geoffryn replied, with a tone of voice as if he were speaking to a halfwit. The young mage traced runes in the air, just above the impregnable stone wall before him, chanting in a strange language. The very still air of the tower seemed to catch his spidery-sounding words, his silvery young voice echoing throughout the corridor and down the nearby stairs. In a moment, the outline of a portal began to glow with a golden light, and a stone door appeared where there was none before. The eldritch door opened, and brilliant torchlight from within spilled out into the corridor.

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Ach, now I see why ye said no body had robbed the vault, Sard rumbled loudly. The elfmaid nodded with a grin. Ingenious. What, did you think we actually used a visible door? He spoke a word, and torches sprang to life within. The vault, like the mages tower itself, was larger on the inside than was apparent from the outside. The room was the shape of a half-moon, awash in golden light, and magical things glittered all about, on shelves, on tables, hanging upon the granite stone walls. Enchanted cloaks, robes, belts, wands, and staves; swords, pikes, shields. A small shelf had clear glass phials containing multicolored fluids in them. On a velvet covered walnut table, was a set of leatherbound books, arcane runes worked in gold and silver into the bindings. A pile of carefully-penned parchment scrolls, and next to these, a crystal ball of solid amethyst glowed with a soft purple light. Next to this, a small wooden coffer, its ivory encrusted lid closed. Geoffryn went to the table and opened the lid, and removed a beautiful sterling silver ring, worked into twin dragons, set with a black onyx. The apprentice raised the ring to the light, watched it glitter. This is a ring of protection, which you commanded me to wear, Sir Sard, Geoffryn said, and slipped the ring onto his right hand. Tis the only enchanted object I shall take from this room for my own use, for my uncle and master commanded me not to use any item for which I cannot cast the spell myself. Sard grunted and nodded, but Thorngrim sneered. Sounds stupid! These things are yours. Use them, I say. Exactly right, these are Geoffryns things, so he will do with them as he pleases, Aetheriel said acidly. For myself, I do have one request. Do you mind if we store some of our valuables here? The boy shrugged. Go head. The dwarf paced the room for a few paces, then turned to the young mage. Youre certain nothings missing from this chamber? Geoff nodded, and Sard muttered, They mustve been after something. Youve no clue what it might be? Something on your uncles person, mayhap? Geoff shook his head. Sard grunted again. Tis all right, lad. Well discover what it was, right enough. You get your things together. Well leave as soon as my friends arrive to care after the tower. Okay.

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Sard clapped the boy mage on the back, and they started for the exit, Aetheriel following. Thorngrim, however, palmed a small ring from a table, while nobody was watching. His eyebrows arched, and he hoped silently to himself that he hoped no one would ever find out. Then, after exiting, reflected that no one ever has. Back in his small chamber, Geoffryn shouldered his pack, checked it for weight, and carried it downstairs to the parlor. Aetheriel was waiting there, reading a thick tome on local geography, mostly studying the maps, getting her bearings. Geoff came up beside her and nodded. Most of the trees here are evergreens. Pine, fir, and conifer. Even holm oak, but those only grow within a league of here. The animals are docile, mostly. Squirrels, hares, and deer. Less you count the cows and sheep on the nearby farms. Aetheriel nodded. I noticed quite a few herbs in the garden out back. You use them for cooking? The boy nodded. And spell reagents. Roses are used to put monsters to sleep, mushrooms for true sight, though I cant cast that spell yet. The gems and crystals Uncle Zatherin found in the caves nearby are used in various incantations. I see. And you grew up here, Geoffryn? Again, a nod. Father sent me when he learned I had an aptitude for magic. Didnt bother him much, cause my older brother Rollund will inherit the family castle and lands. Uncle Zatherin didnt have any sons, so the tower passes to me, along with the river island it stands on. Seems you lucked out, Geoff. The towers intact, and the stables can be rebuilt. Both of them looked up at that careless remark. Thorngrim was just coming down the stone stairs, silent as a mouse, munching on an apple. That was a callous remark, Grim, the elfmaid told him. His uncles. The fighter shrugged. Happens in this business. The name Zatherin Kaladons not exactly unknown. Mage as powerful as him, is sure to have made an enemy or three. Boys lucky he wasnt home when that Dark Knight and the evil mage came calling. Geoffryn stood watching the man with fire in his blue eyes. Violence had never entered his life, till now. The most dangerous thing hed ever seen was when his uncle hurled fireballs for practice, or lightning forked down from the sky to split a mighty oak tree last summer. He also saw the deer carcasses rangers brought onto the holm and sold regularly, but hed never actually seen death before, not like this.

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Why dont you just check on the horses? Aetheriel suggested. When the human fighter didnt take the hint, he nodded to the boy, who silently followed her out the front door. The day was cool and crisp, with a mild breeze blowing down out of the nearby mountain.

Nice place to grow up, the elfmaid said, after theyd strolled a hundred feet past the front door, into the grassy field surrounding the tower. Arranged in a specific pattern were seven holm oaks, their boughs leafy and green. Not many trees here, though. The boy nodded. Been here since I was six summers old. Im the second son, he said, as if that explained everything. So? In a noble family, the eldest son inherits everything. Title and lands. Theres not much left for a second son, so usually were sent off to become clerics or mages. Fortunately, I was born with a talent for magic. And your fathers brother had no sons of his own? Aetheriel asked. Geoffryn shook his head. None that survived. My cousins Albert and Esmeril died in childhood; caught diphtheria. Jaitlyn married some great lord up north, and died in childbed. That left me. What of your aunt? Zatherins wife? She passed when I was two, giving birth to Esmeril, Geoffryn explained. Aetheriel nodded. Humans died of all sorts of ailments, poxes in childhood, women a third of the time giving life to their offspring. Elves tended to live longer, dwarves, orcs, and goblins, too, being heartier. But the gods had blessed humans like no other race in the world; they excelled in everything they laid their hands to, made the best mages, clerics, and fighters in the world, and they bred like rabbits. It would take an elven wizard half a millennium to reach the heights of the arcane Zatherin Kaladon had in a short span of decades, and here, the great wizard had left everything to his nephew, a boy mage who was already casting spells it would take an elf half a century to learn. What of your parents? Your brother? Father and Teddor are off at war, or some such. Mothers at home, but I dont dare go there Because youre afraid whoever killed Zatherin will harm your family, Aetheriel completed when Geoff hesitated. The boy nodded.

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They killed the horses in the stables, they killed Bilar and Lesley, and wouldve slain me too, had they the chance, Geoff reflected grimly. He gazed at the blackened wood and rubble of the stable. Ill not lead these fiends to my family castle and lands. Aetheriel placed a comforting hand on the boys shoulder, soft and gentle as rain. Dont you fret. Well find the beasts that did this, Geoffryn. And then? the boy asked. We slew a dragon, and dozens of undead, goblins, and orcs. A dark mage and a black knight shouldnt be too much of a bother.

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Chapter Four

Even, milord, well be wanting yer purses o coin, we will, the ruffian addressed Thorngrim as the party traveled on the road, two days later. They had been traveling along the road at a merry pace, not noticing the ambush. The sun was an hour before setting, and they were looking forward to making camp and having a nice, hot meal. In the trees on both sides, Thorngrim was certain, were at least a dozen yeomen, their arrows pointed directly at their hearts. Most men would be quaking in their boots about now. The fighter stared at the ruffian across the reins of his horse, his brown eyes silently asking, you must be joking. He sighed theatrically, and drew his longsword. Behind him, he knew Sard was wearing a thin smile, and he hoped the boy was preparing some spell. Moonlight shone off the finely-crafted blade, its edges razor sharp. Im in a good mood this night, Thorngrim returned evenly. Turn and run now, and Ill let you escape with your lives. The ruffian smiled a gap-toothed grin. Ye must be daft in the head, man. We have ye outnumbered, with a score of shafts aimed at ye. Suddenly, the sound of a longbow twanging filled the night air, and two men gurgled as they died in the trees. In a handful of heartbeats, another two men died, then another pair. Thorngrim smiled like a wildcat. Bit less than a dozen, now. My ranger friend just slew a quarter of your force. Now, why dont you be a good lad, and run? In that moment, a pale, blue light filled the air, a bubble of energy for ten feet around the boy mage. A moment later, and sparks filled the youths hands, balls of brilliant white light, ready to be hurled through the night. By this magical light, the ruffian swallowed hard, his eyes wide, his skin pale. In another moment, a dwarven warhammer shone in the light, gleaming like promised death. The dwarf that held it rode forward. Ahm nae as accommodating as my friend here, Sard intoned darkly. He threw aside his cloak, revealing the shining armor beneath, and the sigil of his order of knighthood. Tell us what you know of a murderin cutthroat by the name of Heinricus Darkboon, and Ill let ye live. During this exchange, six more highwaymen died, skewered by elven shafts. Cries of where are they? and Blimey! Theres a whole army after us! filled the air. The ruffian dropped his bow and ran into the woods. Bloody hell, Sard exclaimed. Grim, try ta leave enough alive to question, this time?

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Geoffryn sat his horse, watching the melee unfold, frightened, but determined. These heroes had faced goblins and worse. If he was to prove himself useful to them, hed better get it together. The boy peered into the night, saw two men running, and unleashed his spell. Fiery bolts of white-hot energy sizzled through the night, and found their targets. The men screamed in agony and fell, writhing on the ground. The boy guided Snowymane through the pine and fir to where hed felled the men, dismounted, and held the glowing tip of his staff at one of them. Tell me what I want to know, knave, Geoffryn snarled. Heinricus murdered my uncle! Where can I find him? Blinding white stars filled Geoffryns vision as someone struck him on the back of the head, sending him reeling. Blinking, the boy found himself on the ground, one of the knaves going through his clothes. Theyd already found his money pouch, the coins he was carrying. A handful of platinum, gold, and silver. Still, Geoffryn didnt entertain any doubts they intended to let him live. In a deft movement, still dazed, Geoffryn pulled out a small silvered dagger. The man knocked it from his grasp, and the knife went flying into the dirt. Keep still, boy! Yere valuable, least thats what mlord said, the ruffian ordered. He was so close, Geoffryn could smell his foul breath. The boy mage closed his eyes, concentrated, and called forth fire. The ruffian shrieked as a rush of flames shot forth from the boys hands, setting him ablaze. Geoffryn sat up on an elbow, watching the hapless highwayman scream and run off into the night. One knave was left, the one hed injured earlier with his arcane bolts. The boy took a few breaths to clear his head, retrieved his dagger, and crawled on over to the man, before putting the sharp end of the blade to his throat. Last chance. Tell me what I want to know or Ill kill you, Geoffryn hissed. The venom in his voice surprised even him. Mercy, milord! Heinricusll kill me if I Did you not hear me, villain? Ill cut your throat if you dont tell me where he is! The combination of pain and seeing the magic this boy could summon did the trick. The highwayman croaked out an answer. A dozen leagues north o here. He wants ye, boy. Hell torture ye t death if he finds ye! Why? Geoffryn never learned more. The man snatched his thin wrist, and squeezed until the boy dropped his dagger again. As they struggled, an elven shaft suddenly sprouted from the

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mans right eye. The foul-smelling man gurgled and died, and Geoffryn sat up. He nodded to Aetheriel, then retrieved his dagger and money pouch. Thank you, milady. Dont try to fight these beasts hand to hand again, she said simply, and disappeared into the darkness of the wood. The words chilled Geoffryn to the bone. As a very small boy, his father had tried to teach him how to handle a wooden sword, but after hed been apprenticed to Uncle Zatherin, hed heard that warning many times. A mage did not fight hand-to-hand, as a knight did. A mage hung back, casting spells from a safe distance, supporting his comrades where he could. One of the prime reasons for this was that mages did not wear armor, but wove magical wards about themselves instead. Armor was not nearly as good as amulets and arcane warding spells, and did not interfere with the necessary motions involved in spellcasting. Geoffryn took one final look at his would-be killer, and shuddered. That could just as easily have been him, tonight. The shouts and screams continued for several minutes, then, the companions stepped out of the darkness. Ye all right, lad? Sard asked. Geoffryn nodded. He noticed, but didnt mention the blood coating the dwarf paladins armor, glistening in the moonlight. Ye handled yerself well this night, but donae make the mistake of going hand-to-hand with these maggots again. Ye can get yerself kilt, understand me? Again, the boy nodded. A moment later, Aetheriel stepped from the woods. Theyre on the run. Grims looting the bodies. Sard frowned deeply, his bushy gray eyebrows knitting together. I told that low-life so and so not to Give it a rest, Sard. You know hes a mercenary, entitled to what he can find from the evil folk that try to kill us. Mayhap, but you dont see me doing any such thing, missie! Sard shot back, and knelt to clean the blood and brains off his hammer. Aetheriel shrugged, and began searching the bodies herself, seeking a fresh quiver of arrows for her bow. None of these knaves were like to have Elvish make, but there might be a shaft or two that could fly straight enough. The elfmaid pointedly ignored the paladins upturned nose, with a hidden grin. She knew his dwarven nature would get the better of him, and that Sard would be caught sneaking a small gem-encrusted ring from one of the bodiesespecially if

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it looked enchanted. Dwarves, as a rule, detested magic, except that kind that could be laid upon weapons and armor. A dwarf mage was almost unheard of, yet Aetheriel had heard tales of one or two as she grew up in the elfhome forest, so very far away. Geoffryn wandered off, but not too far, lost in thought. He calmed his skittish mount, rubbed him, and fed the beast an apple from the saddlebag.