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Xenn managed a Command Spell, saying “Stop.” The second Droll stopped moving, but his fellows rapidly gagged and bound the young Spellweaver. Dewrong angrily ripped the vines from his massive body.

The big Droll growled. “I’m going to enjoy tearing you up, Spellweaver. Your ilk has tormented my ancestors. Stole the heirloom that controlled the Firehorses! Destroyed the Firehorse brigade! Know Dewrong Korcran will be your end.”

A Droll shook his unmoving comrade and said, “Dewrong, Tummus isn’t moving and does not speak.”

Dewrong said, “He seldom says much of import, Norgle. It was a simple spell. Smack him! He’ll probably wake up. I’m more interested in getting our prize back to camp.”

Norgle slapped Tummus. The force of the blow knocked the Droll down and aroused him. Tummus jumped up and said, “What’d you do that for, Norgle. Dewrong, Farong, Fluggle! You’ve captured the Spellweaver! May I tear off a few of his fingers?”

Dewrong said, “Patience, Tummus. There’ll be plenty of time for it. He’ll sing like a bird and tell all about Drelvedom’s defenses. Let’s make ready. Farong and Fluggle, carry his sorry a**!”

Farong said, “Boss, it won’t take both of us to carry his scrawny a**!”

Dewrong Korcran said sternly, “Listen to me, you t**ds! Keep that a******’s mouth covered and his hands secure. I don’t want spells thrown against us.”

Fluggle timidly answered, “You got it, Boss!”

Norgle asked, “What about Zagnar?”

Dewrong said, “What about him? He got bested by a Drelve! He’s just carrion. Do you want to carry him back to camp, Norgle?”

Tummus, Farong, Fluggle, and Dewrong shared a laugh. Norgle growled under his breath. Only Xenn saw the movement in the dark waters of the Ornash. Farong and Fluggle threw their axes over their backs and picked up the struggling Spellweaver. A dark form silently moved across the water.

Norgle screamed, “It’s the river spirit! I knew we were too close to the river!”

Dewrong said, “Fool. It’s just some sort of black horse. Soon it’ll be food for the Hippogriffs.”

Fluggle dropped Xenn and said, “I’m not so sure Boss! It was walking on the water!”

A lumbering giant kicked a loose stone. The stone flew across the corridor and struck Ubough’s finely made tunic. The giant’s keen senses detected the soft sound. The beast towered thrice Ubough’s height, grasped an ugly thick broad blade, turned its hideous head rapidly from side to side, and sniffed the corridor’s stale air. Perhaps the stench of the flowing ichors of the giant’s wounded comrades covered Ubough’s scent. Ubough clutched the black rod. The giant detected him and menacingly advanced. There was nothing for it. Ubough extended the black rod and uttered “frank land pierce,” the phrase imbedded in his memory but never before spoken. The darkness of the corridor obscured most of the Death Spell’s aura. The giant’s heart stopped and the hulking creature fell. Ubough moved quickly ahead. Lightchangers augmented his vision and he detected an opening in the opposite side of the twenty paces wide hallway. The corridor was at least the height of four Vydaelians stacked atop one another… a little taller than the giants.

Ubough rushed past the large body of the fallen giant and heard movement ahead. Quickly he dashed into the opening. Overwhelming stench disgusted him. Three giants dashed past him. Ubough was in a twenty-by-twenty pace chamber, which was evidently a storage area for the carcasses of victims of the giants that had not yet graced the big beasts’ tables.

The three giants rushed to their fallen comrade. The most adorned of the three quickly turned and rushed to the opening of Ubough’s hiding place. The Vydaelian squeezed between the carcass of a cave deer and a partially eaten stone eel. Convinced the grotto was clear of enemies, the massive beast returned to his mates.

Ubough clutched the rod, which was more and more a lifeline with each passing moment and concentrated. The rod emitted an imperceptible black mauve aura and activated Comprehend Languages. Ubough now understood the giants’ guttural language.

 

 

Redness cleared. A Drelvish female sat upon a wyvern. The visage duplicated a mural on the wall of the second geodesic dome in Vydaelia. The she-Drelve in the mural played an important role in the early history of Vydaelia. In his dream, Ubough looked upon an image from Vydaelia’s past. The she-Drelve spoke, “Do you have any a** left? You took a rather nasty rebuking.”

Ubough said, “I broke the rules. I had it coming. What does my derriere have to do with anything? I know your face but not your name. Who are you?”

Kirrie said, “I’m another piece of your First Wandmaker’s past. Remember well what I’m going to tell you.”

Ubough muttered, “The Chronicles of Vydaelia mention Dreamraiders. Everyone knows the Wandmaker’s dream. Long ago the Good Witch saved Vydaelia from a triskaidekapod and Giant Amebus. Are you the Good Witch? I’m only the Wandmaker Fradee’s assistant, and I’ve fallen from grace. Why do you invade my dreams?”

Kirrie spoke, “I followed your first Wandmaker’s path. We walked together in the light of the three suns and shared many childhood memories, including the Lone Oak, Invisimoss, Sergeant Major Rumsie, cleaning boots, and Tree Herder Old Yellow. Fire Magick touched us. Our people rejected us. The patriarch of Green Vale and caretaker of the Thirttene Friends the Tree Shepherd deems us Fire Wizards. I have killed more Drolls and Carcharians than Yannuvia.”

Three travelers departed Sagain and in the span of a few heartbeats arrived in the wilds of the primitive world. A fleeting bright light appeared in the night sky. The Limited Wish protected Old Clysis through the journey. “It is my wish that the Room of Sorcery and all its living, non-living, and Magick contents be sent to a world away from Sagain that has a familiar, habitable, and unthreatened environment and all living inhabitants of the Room of Sorcery arrive in the new world unharmed by the journey.” Clysis, Morlecainen, and their stowaway survived the journey. However, when the Room of Sorcery settled at its destination, the old Dark Sorcerer succumbed from the strain of casting the Seventh and Ninth Level Spells. Quirk of Magick… Undaunted, Morlecainen tentatively opened the door and peered out onto marshy swampland. The young stowaway sorcerer remained invisible and carried the spell book of his father and wore his father’s robe. The lad helped himself to some of the large quantity of material spell ingredients in the Room of Wizardry. Innumerable pockets in the Robe of Sagain stored all he wanted. Many sounds and smells saturated the area and aided the Invisibility Spell in keeping him undetected. He slipped past Morlecainen and stepped outside. Quirks of fate and Magick brought many of Sagain’s greatest treasures reached the primitive world Donothor. Light Sorceress Knarra of the Eight carried the storied staff Alcyone. Young Prismatic Dragon Taekora escaped Sagain with the great sword Exeter, the crowning achievement of an ancient Dwarfish swordsmith Roswell Kirkey. Exeter appeared as a well-made longsword, with a hilt formed of a reddish black material and a golden blade. The hilt of the weapon retained the reddish color. No runes appeared upon the weapon and no gems adorned the hilt.  Exeter’s beauty was in her simplicity. Elderly Clysis, Morlecainen, and the stowaway son of the slain Light Sorcerer Kreuseul brought in the Room of Wizardry the Orb of Dark Knowledge, Tome of Translocation, the hidden Elixirs of the Mastery of Magick, Staff of the West Wind, Staff Pleione, robes of Sagain, and Staff Maia of the Seven Sisters.

Clysis spent days studying the Tome of Translocation. Hints from his dreams continued and he learned when he slept. Enhancing and modifying this Magick had been arduous, but ultimately Clysis mastered the incantations to augment the Spell of Translocation with Limited Wish. The combined spells had been cast only unlucky seven times. Ancient Prismatic Dragon Eyerthrin used the united dweomers to send his daughter Taekora to another world. Light Sorcerer Gwindor duplicated the effort and sent Knarra along the same course and six other Light Sorcerers to undefined destinations. Clysis was confident. The old sorcerer and his apprentice Morlecainen made their final preparations.

Quirks of fate and Magick placed the young invisible son of Clopidrel Kreuseul and Meredith Klarje at the Room of Wizardry just as Morlecainen closed the door. The youth wore his father’s Robe of the Order of Light Sorcerers and carried his father’s spell book, the staff Pleione, and the chronicle of the Klarje family. The quantity of Magick within the Room of Sorcery obscured him, and he slipped inside.

Clysis crumbled shypoke eggshells, conjured furiously, and completed the complicated gestures and incantation of the Translocation Spell. Clysis uttered the Limited Wish. “It is my wish that the Room of Sorcery and all its living, non-living, and Magick contents be sent to a world away from Sagain that has a familiar, habitable, and unthreatened environment. It is my wish that all living inhabitants of the Room of Sorcery arrive in the new world unharmed by the journey.”

The staff Pleione, the chronicle of the Klarje family, and son of Clopidrel Kreuseul and Meredith Klarje joined Clysis, Morlecainen, the Orb of Dark Knowledge, and the artifacts they had gathered. Within the Room of Wizardry, the travelers carried the Orb of Dark Knowledge, the Tome of Translocation, the concealed Elixirs of the Mastery of Magick, and three staves of Sagain; the Staff of the West Wind with old Clysis, Maia of the Seven Sisters with Morlecainen, and the Staff Pleione with the son of Kreuseul.  Clysis and Morlecainen squirreled away many antiquities within the chamber. The boy wore the robe of the Order of Light Sorcerers and kept many treasures within its hidden pockets.

Yannuvia recorded each wand in the Gifts of Andreas to the People of the Forest, the Spellbook entrusted to all Spellweavers at the time of their nymph hood. Each Spellweaver added new spells and personal experiences to his Spellbook during his life’s journey. The notation began with the Old Drelvish numeral I, indicating his being the first Wandmaker. Then the number of the wand in order of its creation was written in script rather than numeral. The wand’s name and the unique command to activate its power followed. At the time of the Giant Amebus’s attack on Vydaelia, Yannuvia had created 10 wands.

 

1. (one) Knock Wand with the command “Cow vine cool ledge.”
2. (two) Wand of Lightning with the command “Grove veer cleave land.”

• (three) Wand of Masonry with the command “Wood row will son.”

1. (four) Wand of Levitation with the command “Rich herd nicks son.”
2. (five) Haste Wand, Wand of Speed, with the command “Jar old ford.”
3. (six) Wand of Flight, Wand of Flying with “Run nailed ray gun.”

• (seven) The United Scepter of the Approximation, an exceptional artifact with command “Abe Linkin”
• (eight) Wand of languages with “yule less says grant”

1. (nine) Wand of Healing with “rut fir ford bee haze”
2. (ten) Wand of water breathing with “herb art hoof ear.”

 

Four figures stood in an empty grotto without discernible exit.

The Dreamraider Amica grumpily conceded, “There’s little left to do here. Step onto this blue stone and you’ll leave the cavern and arrive in the outside World of the Three Suns. I can’t tell you where or when you’ll arrive, so I suggest we hold hands and all step together.”

The Dreamraider truthfully had no idea how the blue stone would function for the neophytes.

The púca Cupid said, “There’s nothing for it. I don’t want to hang around in this sealed cavern.”

Leprechaun Oilill quickly said, “Wait!”

The leprechaun sprinkled red sand onto the blue tile. The odd quartet held hands. Then on Amica’s command they crowded together and stepped onto the blue tile. Blueness surrounded them. Every inchworm length of their skin tingled.

A flash of redness surrounded Amica, Oilill, Kirrie, and Cupid. A moment later the Dreamraider, Leprechaun, she-Drelve, and púca breathed familiar fragrant air and stood inside the red elm where the Sandman saved the poisoned Good Witch. Kirrie’s hair had lengthened and grown browner. Oilill’s beard was a bit longer but overall the leprechaun appeared no worse for the wear. The púca Cupid felt stiff and sore and his hair had grown several inches. The large red elm, which served as a guest house in Alms Glen, was otherwise vacant. Kirrie peeked through the bark and listened. Drelves performed day to day tasks in the bustling common area surrounding the big red tree. Two she-Drelves talked near the tree. The mature she-Drelves were Betsy and her sister Emmy.  Four-year-old Drelvling Betsy narrowly escaped a meandering Droll only a few cycles of Meries before Kirrie’s entourage entered the cavern behind Alluring Falls.  In what seemed a few days to Kirrie’s group, Betsy and her twin sister had matured.

Amica cautioned, “Traveling in the red and blue light has changed you. Eleven changes of seasons have passed since we entered the grotto behind Alluring Falls.”

Kirrie muttered, “So Yannuvia and the folk of Lost Sons have been gone thirteen years.”

Amica stammered, “Uh, yes…”

Fisher typified the ultra-rare Menders. Given the opportunity, a Mender healed a warrior and then the warrior’s enemy. Mender’s nature precluded haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, feet swift to run into mischief, deceitful witness that uttered lies, and sowing discord among brethren. Menders were neither loyal nor disloyal. Menders did not display lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Likewise, Menders did not show signs of chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility. Menders did not seek adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envying, murders, drunkenness, reveling, “and such things.”

Menders understood mending.

Menders were Magick.

“The Stonemaster says we are watched by the wyrms of the Laurels. Magick must be kept to the tower. In fact, he’s forbidden its use in this chamber by anyone save himself! The eyes and minds of the vile Tower of Radiance reach even to the great tower. You weren’t around for the last war, were you Dawson? I saw the multi-colored wyrm rip apart the western defenses. While our forces attacked at Roaring Gap and my father guarded the walls to the east, the wyrm’s backside attack almost breached the inner curtain. Had he done so, the beast would have befouled the inner ward and the donjon of Koorlost? My father Ralf fell at the talons and spells of the prismatic dragon Innycines,” the Dark Sorcerer called Sam replied.

“Aye. I was not at the battle, but my grandfather’s grandfather, who was one of the few who survived the collapse of the outer curtain, was, and told of the devastation. My grandfather passed the story to us. As youths, Koboldlings, we thought the old geezer, my grandfather, just spun wild tales. He avowed the dragon spewed forth in turn breath attacks of fire, ice, lightning, acid, and poison gas. He swears that’s how his grandfather lost his sight. The evil beast flashed light from the pores of its skin, from its very scales. The brightness, the brilliance of the light, stole my great grandfather’s sight! I never really believed the stories about the dragon,” Jacques Dawson countered.

All the while the gangly Kobold used all his wiry strength and uncanny masonry skills to slap the soft mud with his trowel and gauge its height. He added, “You know, this mud will be as hard as the stone of these walls when it dries. It won’t need the Stonemaster’s touch.”

“Let’s stop talking falsely now. The hour is getting late. There’s so much confusion, no pun intended, in these lands. I’ll sweeten the pot. Look at this longsword. I cannot wield the weapon. It’s refused to enter the hand of a Dark Sorcerer. That should interest you,” Confusious urged.

He extended a simple yet beautiful weapon and Alisskirin grasped the hilt of the longsword.

“Take me before he changes his mind,” an appealing feminine voice communicated silently to the Light Sorcerer. The wanderer smiled when he saw the look of surprise on the Light Sorcerer’s face. He didn’t hear the sword’s plea but he knew she was making it. He wanted this to happen. He had tried unsuccessfully to barter with the weapon many times.

“You offer knowledge and an artifact of likely enormous value for but the casting of a single spell. The Haste Spell would not benefit me directly. I don’t see how those of my Order could be offended by my helping you, particularly when you offer something that might serve as a boon in these dire times. Stranger, you have a deal. I know not why a few moments speed has such value for you. Allow me a few moments when you are ready to receive the spell,” Alisskirin agreed.

“Take your few moments, for I am ready. I yen to explore the depths of the desert and the night is young,” Confusious eagerly replied.

“Fair enough,” Alisskirin answered.

Alisskirin placed a dark flattened object in Confusious’ right hand. The hard to come by pieces of Dragon scale required substantial preparation to make the essential ingredient of the Haste Spell usable. Confusious placed the crunchy chip into his mouth and began to chew boisterously. Alisskirin then embarked upon an incantation. Although it seemed to last hours, the hermit actually endured only minutes of searing pain in his feet and legs and a knot and queasiness in his stomach. Twas the price of the spell. Dragon scale, particularly when enhanced by Magick, was not for eating! A creepy crawly sensation and an irrepressible urge to move his legs replaced the searing pain. Confusious felt the urge to run. Acquiring speed greatly enhanced his chances of survival in the great deserts and swamps. The spell gave him limitless energies and was well worth the discomfort.

The hermit attained the gift of speed. The burst of Magick associated with Alisskirin’s casting the spell caught the attention of the patrons scattered about the room.  In those days, the presence of a sorcerer was unusual.

The young Light Sorcerer possessed the aged epistle and the wondrous sword. The sword revealed her name was Exeter. As a sorcerer Alisskirin would not be able to wield her, but she hoped he would find for her a worthwhile bearer.