Month: August 2016

Mighty Chiron interrupted a futile attempt to sleep and went to the edge of the invisible bridge across the river that surrounded the Hanging Gardens. The death of his old friend Mayard had disturbed the centaur. His sentries always welcomed his companionship. Just a day earlier the guards had to repel a giant from Hinderburgh. Chiron turned quickly. A small ferret raced between his legs and started across the bridge. Chiron’s companion nocked an arrow and started to fire.

Chiron said, “No. Let it go. It’s just a ferret.”

The ferret cleared the bridge and scooted across the cleared area, running between the hooves of the many centaurs on guard duty and entering the woods to the north. The ferret ran through the underbrush. It stopped at a pair of well-worn boots. A dark robe fell to just above the top of the boots.

The sorcerer said, “Oh, Windy, my eyes and ears, you have returned. The value of a familiar! So he’s passed on. The great Mayard Klarje is dead. I’m saddened only by the fact his death did not come by my hand. There’s no need for my current plan and naught to do here at this time. I’ll release the giants.” The sorcerer uttered some guttural phrases. Four Hinderburgh giants interrupted their phi gamm feast and answered his summons. The sorcerer spoke to them in the same gruff tone. The giants grumbled their disappointment, but the sorcerer assured them the fight they hoped for with the centaurs was merely delayed. The sorcerer gave a shrill whistle. Beating wings appeared. He mounted the large old copper dragon, gave the beast a large chunk of copper ore, and muttered, “To the woods near Thynna. Stay out of sight.”

The dragon flew straightaway to the propinquity of the city of Magick.

Castellan Yerko made his way to the chamber door, and Kurth appealed to him to allow Rhiann to speak.

Yerko said, “He’s a boy, Kurth. The Council has pressing business, including discussions about your wife’s insubordination. Why should I allow him before the Council?”

Rhiann implored, “I carry my Uncle Mayard’s message.”

Yerko answered derisively, “Then let him speak for himself! I grow weary of his messages!”

Kurth said, “Rhiann brings word from the Hanging Gardens.”

Yerko gruffly replied, “So he’s kowtowing in the Gardens with his harlot Nona. The only word I want from the Three Sisters is their total submission and dissolution of their power. When Nona shatters her distaff and leaves the Veldt, I will treat with her. Mayard’s ways are old ways, Marsh. Your young relative must learn he can’t follow Mayard’s path. Thynna moves away from the old ways.”

Rhiann said, “Please allow me to speak, Castellan.”

Kurth added, “Let him be heard, Castellan. If you are so comfortable with the Council and Thynna’s course, what harm can he do?”

Yerko looked up at the twin suns sparkling in the east and said, “The day is wasting while we tarry here. You want to speak, whelp? Well, if you want to make a fool of yourself, proceed. You’ll be as big a laughing stock as your senile Uncle Mayard.”

Rhiann said excitedly, “I’ll be brief, but thorough.”

Yerko clapped his hands together and the guards separated and granted access to the doors. Rhiann and Kurth followed the Castellan into the large amphitheater. Murmurs passed through the captive audience.

The Castellan headed for the podium and addressed the Council of Thynna members, “Fellow Council Members, you are honored to be addressed by an adolescent sorcerer, Master Rhiann Klarje. He intends to enlighten us about the Hanging Gardens. His Uncle Mayard has sent him to face us in his stead. I’m sure his Uncle’s lack of courage makes young Rhiann proud of the mark he wears on his face.”

Donovan and Redbrick left the gatehouse and headed back toward town. The short walk led them past the many merchant shops set up on the plaza outside Thynna. Redbrick said, “That little blighter wasted all our time. I’m going to whip his butt!”

Just then a voice whispered from a nook between two shops. Donovan turned and saw Iyaca cowering among baskets and barrels. The Gnome asked, “Iyaca, what gives? Why’d you run away? We only needed a few minutes.”

Iyaca quietly said, “It was the clerk.”

Redbrick said, “Do you mean Money, John Money?”

Iyaca said, “He can call himself whatever he wants. He’s the Man in Black. He’s the one whose men killed my parents.”

Redbrick said, “The highwayman? Are you sure?”

Iyaca answered, “Donovan, I’ll never forget his face. He probably remembers me, too.”

Donovan said, “You were little more than a tyke when they brought you to Gnome-town. Redbrick, I wouldn’t know. I never saw his face in the road to Dry Creek. His voice was familiar. “

Iyaca said, “Go arrest him, Redbrick!”

Redbrick scratched his chin and muttered, “I can’t rightly arrest him, Iyaca. Technically, he is my superior. Part of his mustering package included full pardon for all previous acts. On top of all that, he can read and write, which makes him quite a commodity to the Council of Thynna. He mustered in with three other guys.”

Donovan said, “Undoubtedly the Fearsome Foursome are now in the employee of the Council of Thynna and there is naught we can do about it.”

Redbrick said, “That’s about the size of it. Copies of the muster logs are kept in the Guard Tower. We’ll check.”

Redbrick said, “The criteria for acceptance into Thynna’s mercenary corps is to be living, breathing, ornery, and not opposed to fighting Old Ones.”

Donovan said, “I have nothing against Old Ones. My ilk has always had a live and let live association with the Three Sisters and the Hanging Gardens. Fact is… Old Ones likely saved us from Bailiwick’s lot. I was mad about being hauled around by a dragon at the time, but not so much now. Maybe war won’t come. Rhiann and Mayard oppose it.”

Redbrick said, “Let’s take him over to the gatehouse. They’re not busy at the moment. Should be routine!”

Redbrick, Donovan, and Iyaca passed through the gate and made the short walk to the gatehouse outside Thynna. Soldiers walked around the cleared area. Iyaca walked behind the Gnome and Tower Guard. They entered and found the gatehouse bustling with activity. Soldiers directed them to a desk in the back of the large entry room. A tall man sat and the table and scribbled on a parchment.

Redbrick said, “Are you the document clerk?”

The man said, “If you are asking am I the only ******* they’ve recruited that can read and write in a while, the answer is ‘yes.’ So you need paperwork. We don’t see many Gnomes on the rosters.”

Redbrick said, “No, it’s not for the Gnome. He’s an emissary from Gnome-town. It’s for the kid. He needs papers.”

The tall man said, “I saw you walk in. From the distance he looked a little young to muster in. What’s his name?”

Redbrick said, “I’ll let him give you the information. Iyaca, come up here. Let’s get this done. I’ve got duties to get to.”

Redbrick turned, but Iyaca was missing.

Redbrick said, “Where’d he go?”

Donovan said, “I don’t know. He was just here. I was looking around to see if I knew any of these blokes. Iyaca? Iyaca!”

The clerk frowned and said, “I got tons of muster papers to fill out. Where is he?”

Red brick said, “Aw, get back to your work. If Rhiann Klarje wants his assistant to have domicile in the city, he can bring him here himself!”

The tall man said, “Did you say Rhiann Klarje? Is he in the city? I didn’t see him enter?”

Redbrick said, “Are you kidding? Klarjes don’t have to check in. I haven’t seen him but Donovan says he’s back.”

Eyerthrin extended his arms as far as he could reach in both directions. He inhaled, bowed his head, and touched his chin to his chest. He then lifted up his head, bent his neck into full extension, and exhaled. Scintillating lights surrounded him. His tall muscular frame shimmered in the lights, paled to a man-sized white light, and changed to a repeating pattern of brilliant lights. The man-sized form slowly expanded to a great-multicolored sphere. The expanding sphere gradually acquired a form with a massive head, four powerful legs, two great wings, an immense body, and a long serpentine tail. The large roughly reptilian shape briefly flashed many colors and solidified to the form of the young prismatic dragon.

The prismatic dragon was a wondrous sight. His scales glowed with all the colors of the rainbow. The beast was the height of several men and the mass of many horses. The dragon’s sparkling eyes made available a window to his great wisdom.

Transformation for the prismatic dragon was an innate ability, not a spell. Eyerthrin and his ilk had the ability to change their size and shape. Their weight decreased proportionately when they assumed their smaller size. If they got smaller, they weighed less, too. Density, weight, and mass were measures of Nature, not Magick. Dragons were creatures of Magick. But even Magick had limitations. The dragon could not become much smaller than his favorite man-sized form that enabled him to walk the halls of buildings, stroll the streets of towns, and ascend stairs. In his glorious dragon state, he attained a length of eighty feet and stood twenty feet tall at the shoulders with his great neck extending another fifteen feet. Innumerable scales of many sizes and shapes covered his body. The largest were about a cubit (20.6 inches) in length and width, while the smallest were the size of the tip of Nona’s sewing needle. Everyone was every color, one color, and no color;  the scales  continually shifted from  colorless shimmering reflective surface,  any one color of the  rainbow after a summer storm, and a multitude of colors.

Serena’s eyes mirrored the Dragon’s scales. The siren stroked his powerful foreleg and marveled at the softness and warmth of the scales, a feature unique to the prismatic dragon ilk. Eyerthrin inhaled and took flight.

Bailiwick eased his left eye open. The fading light of the twin suns made him wince. His temples throbbed mercilessly and the hard rock beneath him stiffened his back. Kobolds were laying all around him. The sorcerer painfully raised his head and scanned the area. The Gnomes, merchants, young Klarje, the steeds, and beasts of burden were gone. Both wagons remained. The wagon bound for Thynna still carried all its treasures, but the second wagon had been stripped of all its copper ore. The Man in Black and his fellow Fearsome Foursome comrades were missing. The Kobold Chieftain Beeyo snored loudly.

Bailiwick stood and scanned the skies and saw only a solitary Copper Dragon slowly circling in the distance. Smoke was no longer rising from Dry Creek. The hour of the day told him he had slept several hours. Last things he remembered were the appearance of the winged beasts and melodic voice on the air. He resisted the urge to sleep and mumbled Dispel Magick to no avail. The sorcerer muttered to no one, “****** Old Ones! Mayard Klarje remains my greatest enemy, but now my anger for the Old Ones and Hanging Gardens surpasses my ire with the Council of Thynna.”

Bailiwick let the sleeping Kobolds lie and scampered off the rock. He awakened his horse and whistled for his familiar Windy. The ferret had served him well. It detected the scents of Klarje’s entourage long before Beeyo’s Kobold scouts had seen them. Now Windy’s senses told the sorcerer the way was clear to his hidden abode. Bailiwick cursed his dependence on the Highwaymen and Kobolds. He took some choice gems from the wagon. They’d come in handy for his future plans.

Sagain’s skies blessed the forest with a rain shower sometime after the sorcerer’s departure. The rain awakened a few Kobolds, who in turn awakened their many comrades. Beeyo yowled from the pain of his headache. The early awakeners had first choice at the bounty from the mines on the wagon. Many fights ensued. Eventually Beeyo took charge and most of the best stones.

Mayard Klarje said, “Jethro. If someone looks different, it doesn’t mean they are less important and lack feelings. Magick is not to be used frivolously, young sorcerers. Think about the consequences of your actions. Always let your hearts guide your deeds.”

Jethro humbly said, “Yes, Teacher.”

Mayard Klarje reached into his tattered rucksack and removed a small jacket and handed it to Jethro. Jethro accepted the doll-sized garment but said, “Thank you, Teacher. But it’s too small for me. It should fit my sister’s doll. I’ll give it to her.”

Mayard smiled and answered, “Your education continues. Place your left hand in the sleeve.”

Jethro did not question the famed wizard and stuck his hand into the small sleeve. The fabric expanded and the coat slipped over his body and became a perfect fit.

Jethro marveled, “It feels wonderful. The fabric is warm and cool at the same time.”

Mayard smiled and said, “It’s made of Sagain silk. The fibers are produced by silkworms that live in the Semper Fi trees on Wombat Mountain. The coat is water resistant and will grow as you do. By the way… it’s also fire and cold resistant.”

Jethro beamed, “Thank you, Teacher. Receiving a gift from you is an honor! And you’ve given me two!”

Mayard again smiled and said, “Just remember what you’ve learned today.”

Jethro, Bo, and Dean left the amphitheater. Headmaster Lennard gave Mayard a quizzical glance and then left also. Rhiann helped his great uncle gather his materials and store them in the marvelous rucksack, which maintained its weight and outer dimensions. Rhiann mimicked the Headmaster’s quizzical look.

The youngster said, “Uncle Mayard, why did you reward Jethro? He’s been very mean to me. You witnessed it. Today was mild compared to other things he’s done. I can’t go near the merchant Elliott’s store. He thinks I’m a troublemaker.”

Mayard kept stuffing thinks in the rucksack and said, “Well, I could have changed him to a toad. I really have done it before. Or would you rather have had me place a barbed tail on his backside?”

Rhiann sighed and answered, “Not a bad idea. Uncle Mayard. I might have considered it.”

Mayard chuckled, “I thought about it, too. But, Rhiann, if we treat him like he has treated you, are we any better than him? Vengeance is not best served cold. It’s best not served at all. Two wrongs do not make a right.  You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. I can recite many more adages if you like.”

One by one the young sorcerers descended the amphitheater steps and took a levitating amulet. Jethro, Bo, and Dean tarried in their seats. Mayard motioned for the threesome to approach. They were the last three to accept the prizes.

The wandering Sorcerer Mayard Klarje addressed Jethro, “Jethro, do you have a problem with the red mark on my face?”

Jethro stammered, “Uh…no, Sorcerer Mayard. Why would anyone have a problem with the greatest sorcerer in the history of Magick! Is it true you have the power to turn people into toads?”

Mayard said, “It’s been known to happen, but only if they really deserved it. Why do you tease Rhiann?”

Jethro dejectedly said, “I’ll start learning to croak so I can be a better toad than sorcerer.”

Mayard fought back laughter and struggled to keep a straight face and followed, “That may not be necessary, Jethro. Touch the red mark of my face.”

Jethro stammered, “Uh… why, Teacher?”

Mayard calmly replied, “Touch it. It won’t hurt you.”

Jethro gingerly extended his right index finger and touched the red mark. He youth sighed with relief when nothing happened.

Mayard continued, “Now touch Rhiann’s mark.”

Jethro hesitated briefly and then did so.

Mayard followed, “Now touch your face.”

Once again young Jethro did as the sorcerer asked.

Mayard asked, “What did you feel when you touched our faces?”

Jethro answered. “Just skin, teacher.”

Mayard answered, “Did you feel any difference in the red skin on Rhiann’s and my face?”

Jethro replied, “No, Teacher, it just felt like skin.”

Mayard Klarje said, “Jethro. If someone looks different, it doesn’t mean they are less important and lack feelings. Magick is not to be used frivolously, young sorcerers. Think about the consequences of your actions. Always let your hearts guide your deeds.”

Mayard said, “There’s a few more of you than I expected. Not to fear. It’s nothing a Rock to Mud, Enlarge, and Stone Shape Spell won’t remedy. Mayard said then, “I’ll be right back.” The old sorcerer briefly exited and returned with an irregular rock from the courtyard. He used a small piece of clay and a bit of water, uttered a gruff conjuration, and softened the rock. He then took a pinch of powdered iron, uttered another incantation, and cast an Enlarge Spell, He followed with a Stone Shape Spell and formed seventy-five small objects, the exact number of students watching the class. Mayard took a piece of string from his rucksack and replicated it. He made odd motions with his hands, uttered more odd phrases, and moved his hands over the little pieces of clay. The old sorcerer then said a single word, “red.” Now seventy-five little red objects rested in front of him. Mayard said, “Join.” The strings combined with the little red objects. Mayard said “rise” and seventy-five amulets slowly rose from the stone floor and levitated about three feet above the floor. Mayard said, “A memento of my visit! There should be one for each of you. Rhiann, take one please.”

Rhiann stood and approached his uncle. Mayard said, “Don’t be shy. It won’t hurt you. In fact, it’s an amulet of protection. It’ll serve you as long as you stay true to Magick and use it thoughtfully. Look closely, Rhiann.”

Rhiann took and held the near weightless object. The little cherry-red, heart-shaped stone was precisely the size, shape, and color of the birthmarks on Rhiann and Mayard’s chins. Mayard’s tale asserted the mark graced the chin of the first sorcerer of Sagain Cydney Klarje.

Mayard said again, “One for everyone. Tomorrow I’ll tell you of Cydney Klarje’s first spells.”

Mayard pursued and subdued highwaymen Big Boy and Tiny and brought them to Gnome-town to the waiting and grateful hands of Burgomaster Altus Stillwater Darktop. Altus had nineteen given names to go with his family name Stillwater. Gnomes added monikers relating to their accomplishments and adventures. His unusually dark hair had earned him the moniker Darktop. Burgomaster Stillwater now added “Big Boy” as his twentieth given name. The grateful burgomaster had granted Mayard a room in his manor. Mayard had mixed feelings about the reward. The comfortable bedding, brew master’s wonderful ale, and wonderful feast prepared by the burgomaster’s spouse Enid were offset by relentless pestering by the burgomaster’s incorrigible son Norman. If the Gnome-kin didn’t get his way, he pitched a veritable fit. His father Altus Twenty-names Big Boy Stillwater termed the outbursts “Norman storms.” Mayard Klarje dubbed the little Gnome Storming Norman and the moniker stuck. The little bloke shared his father’s dark hair. Storming Norman Darktop now had three names.