A Wizard's Tears (3 page)

Before he left for the centre of the village, Keldoran took one last walk around the farm, his home for all his life. It was a beautiful day, the sun high in the sky, showering him with warmth. He walked around the house, smiling to himself. As exciting as today was, there was also a sad part. There was an ending, today. His home, his whole life, would be changed. This stone house was a part of him; he knew every crack and nook. The air, the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking, all that would soon vanish. The noises of the animals, the chirping of the birds, all of these would disappear from his view.

So, Keldoran walked, and savoured each step, each moment left with his old life. He would remember this place, fondly, forever. Perhaps one day he would draw the image of it onto paper, to cherish. He would return here, one day, and he expected that nothing would change. His parents would still be here, hugging each other in the doorway of the cottage. The animals would still chatter away to themselves. The sun, even, would still sit high in the sky, bathing all in its warm glow. It was peaceful here.

Keldoran said his goodbyes, turned, and walked away from the cottage, carrying a few minor possessions in a small woollen bag his mother had made for him, and the clothes on his back.

Demorbaln was a small village, quiet and harmless in the countryside. A place to retire, maybe. A place to raise a family, to live a peaceful and happy existence. Yet to Yvanna, the village gave her bad memories, and she could not wait to escape from it.

Several moons ago, her mother had died here, from an unknown virus. Her father had broken down, collapsed with grief, and had become paralysed, leaving her to care for him. As the months wore on, her father finally retained the use of his limbs, and had met another woman. This gave her the chance she needed to get out. Everywhere she turned in the village she was reminded of her mother. The flowers she used to tend to, people offering condolences, the smell of her favourite drink. No more!

Yvanna hastily packed her bags, three of them, enough bits of luggage for a trip around Elrohen and back. She would look a mess on the road to Malana, and she did not want to look a mess when she entered the fabled city of gold. There would undoubtedly be many suitors there that would whisk her away to a happy, enchanted world. She would look her best for them. So, in went oils, lotions, soaps and perfumes.

What better way to meet such men than as a mage? The idea pleased Yvanna. She could also learn those spells that would make her look younger, more beautiful than ever, to put a shine of lustrous body to her hair. She would seduce and beguile, until she found the man rich enough and worthy enough to hold her in his arms.

Relb stood in the market of Demorbaln, the heart of the village, and waited for the mage to arrive, the mage that would take him away from the place of his birth.

It was definitely the time for him to leave. Thought stupid and useless by the villagers, by his old friends (as he used to call them), it was time to prove them wrong, and make a name for himself. A mage! Oh, to be a mage! That would shut them all up, would it not? How far had they gone in a career? Farmers, locksmiths and carpenters, they were. Ha! A mage, now that was something. One day he would come back and just rub it in their faces. Maybe turn one or two into flea-ridden dogs. Yes, that had a good revenge value!

Chuckling softly to himself, Relb adjusted his cap, a crazy looking, brown leather thing, and waited patiently for his new life.

Keldoran entered Demorbaln’s market. He had never seen so much hubbub! He rarely ventured out of the farm, especially not down here. He grinned. So this was the beginning of his new life. Lots of people chattering inanely to one another, with excited looks and jeers. Already his blood was beginning to surge inside in mounting excitement.

They have all come out, he thought, to see the mages. Of course, it was obvious. The quiet village must always get into this fervour and tumult when the mages appear.

Keldoran was excited to be meeting a mage. He had never spoken to one before. He had seen them, before, admired their quiet, knowing looks. His dream had started since he was a mere child, watching these towering men of magick. He held them in awe. Such power to harness inside of them, such responsibility.

He wandered through the gathering crowd, to the nearby road. The road led to Malana, the city of gold. He had never left the village, and had only read of the city. It sounded an amazing place to him. Keldoran felt like dancing at the side of the road, he was so excited by his thoughts!

He glanced over at the other people waiting by the roadside, for he was not alone. His eyes widened in a quick sliver of fear, as he saw a horned humanoid not ten paces from him! He had never seen any of these people before, although his mother had told him about the other races sharing Elrohen with humans. This then, was his first sighting of a Bu’kep.

He looked magnificent, resplendent in a bright green tunic. His skin was white, just like his own, but a small horn extended from his temple, red in colour. It was an odd looking thing, and Keldoran could not take his eyes off it. The man could sense he was being watched, and turned to regard Keldoran. Quickly, Keldoran averted his gaze, but not before the Bu’kep gave him a beaming smile, showing his white teeth.

Embarrassed, Keldoran turned and looked to his right, where his eyes rested upon a petite, blonde girl. She was surrounded by three huge backpacks. It was a comical sight, for they were as big as she was. Keldoran already marvelled at this weird and wonderful world, with all these incredible people, and seemed so far away from his farm even though he was still in the village.

“Daddy, look!” shouted a tiny voice in excitement behind him. Keldoran watched with interest as a small boy dragged his father over to the Bu’kep. “The juggler!”

The father nodded to the Bu’kep. “Please forgive my son, he gets a little headstrong,” he muttered apologetically.
“Nonsense!” beamed the Bu’kep, grinning broadly at the little boy. “I like his carefree attitude.”
Keldoran was dumbstruck. The accent of the man’s words! It was unlike anything he had heard before. His voice sung. It was magical.
“Will you juggle for me? Please! Please!” jumped the boy, pointing to a small pouch resting on the Bu’kep’s belt.
“Why, of course, little one! What better way to pass the time then to juggle, to tease, to delight?”
In a fluid motion, the Bu’kep reached into his pouch and produced three, small wooden balls. In seconds they were above his head, seeming to almost hover in mid-air before they were caught in his dextrous hands. Then they were spun into the air once more, to the delights and cheers of the crowd.
Keldoran decided then and there that he wanted to learn that trick. It was amazing to watch. The man was so athletic, so lithe, he was dancing about, hopping from one foot to the other, his horn glinting in the morning sun, and he did not drop a ball, not even once.
The crowd clapped thunderously when he finished. Keldoran joined in, shaking his head in amazement. He turned to see if the blonde girl had seen the spectacle, and stopped clapping his hands. She seemed oblivious to the Bu’kep’s juggling, seeming to stare at the open road before her as if that was all there was in the world. Her mood made Keldoran frown slightly.
A hush descended onto the crowd.
His thoughts on the girl gone, Keldoran looked at the road. He could see a horse trotting along it, dragging a carriage behind. He squinted, for they were far away, to see if he could make out the rider on the horse. Moments passed, and then he could see the mage: a dark grey robed figure, hood over his face. He rode with a calm-like superiority. His horse wore a grey robe itself, and even it seemed to hold its head high, proud to be ridden by one so exalted as a mage.
The horse stopped silently in front of the crowd. Keldoran looked up at the mage in front of him, a tall, imposing figure. His heart was in his mouth.
Slowly, almost regal in his movements, the mage stepped down from his steed. He removed his hood, showing his chiselled, wise features. His eyes shone a bright blue, penetrating in their gaze. His hair was white, and long. His forehead had lines of age. To Keldoran, he looked in his late sixties. He was surprised the mage had no beard; he thought all mages had beards.
“I have come to your village seeking new apprentices,” boomed out the mage in a powerful, strong voice. He did not bid the village a greeting, nor did he smile. His demeanour seemed arrogant, and Keldoran remembered his father’s words, but only for a moment.
“Those who deem themselves worthy to follow the path of the mages, step forward.”
The mage stood to one side, and gestured with his arm. He then stood solemnly, waiting.
For a few brief moments Keldoran was rooted to the spot, his legs suddenly very heavy and sluggish. He had a quick thought – was he worthy to become a mage? Then it was gone as he watched the Bu’kep step forward with no sign of nerves. The juggler smiled at the mage, and nodded at him, rather cheekily. The mage showed no sign of concern.
Ok
, thought Keldoran,
if he can do it, so can I
. Breathing deeply, Keldoran stepped forward to stand next to the Bu’kep.
Moments drifted by. The crowd started to shuffle and mutter among themselves. Only two this year, it would seem, wanted to become a mage. It grew less and less each year.
No, Keldoran could see some of the crowd parting at the back. Someone was struggling through them, cursing and swearing. Relb appeared finally, dusting himself down, as if he had fallen onto the ground. “Pardon me,” he spluttered to the mage, “I was waiting at the other end of the market. Didn’t see you until the last minute.” With that, he stepped forward, next to Keldoran. Secretly, Keldoran was relieved to see another human join him.
The blonde girl stepped forward, much to Keldoran’s surprise. She tugged at Relb’s sleeve. He turned to look at her. “Please, could you help me with my luggage?” she asked sweetly. Relb smiled down at her, for she was very small. “Of course I will. Where is it?”
She nodded towards the three large backpacks.
“All of those?”
She nodded at him, smiling all the more sweetly.
Coughing, Relb walked over to the backpacks, and carried them over to the carriage in turn. The mage motioned for the door to open, and it did so, silently, without aid from any hand of a human. The crowd gasped in awe.
“Are there any more?” asked the mage. “If so, be swift.”
The crowd looked at one another, then back to the mage. Nobody else joined the four stood at the front.
“Then I bid you all farewell,” stated the mage. “May Untaba protect and guide you.”
He motioned for the four to enter the carriage, then once more mounted his horse. Seeming just to gesture at his steed, the horse snorted slightly, and turned in the road, starting back the way it had come.
The crowd slowly dispersed, and moved back to the market. The little boy and his father remained, waving at the carriage as it left. Keldoran knew it was probably for the juggler, who sat next to him in the carriage, but he was glad anyway. It seemed a fitting end to the village of his birth: a fond farewell. With a lump in his throat but intensely excited, Keldoran stared back at the village until it was lost from view.

“So,” began the Bu’kep, his musical voice filling the carriage and warming their ears, “I shall begin with the introductions, for it is a long road to Malana and pleasant conversation is required! I am Corg, at your service.” He nodded to them all, grinning all the while. So many white teeth, Keldoran observed.

“Keldoran,” he said, extending his hand to the juggler, who shook it violently.
“I’m Relb,” nodded Relb at the juggler. “Pleased to meet you!”
“Yvanna,” stated the girl flatly, as if the conversation bored her already.
“Pleasing names, all,” admired the Bu’kep. “A pleasure to make your acquaintances. You know, I thought I’d be the only one in this carriage today.”
“Really?” said Relb, curious.
“Indeed! Have you not heard the story of last year’s recruits from Demorbaln to the city of gold?”
Relb shook his head.
“Ah, that would explain why you are here then. I heard that the six people that went last year to Malana are all dead.”
Relb looked horrified. “Dead?” he exclaimed.
“Oh yes,” smiled the Bu’kep, “apparently they didn’t cut the grade and the chief mage had them executed.”
“Oh my goodness!” Relb shuddered. “If I had known that, I surely would not have come!”
“That’s nonsense,” said Yvanna. “One writes to me, for he was my boyfriend. He is doing fine.”
“Ah, then my lady, you have undone my little joke!” chuckled the Bu’kep. “For that was all it was, a mere token, to break the ice herein.”
Keldoran smiled. He liked this juggler. He seemed roguish, interesting.
“You scared me, there,” said Relb, smiling halfheartedly. “I was taken right in by that.”
“Indeed you were,” scoffed Yvanna. “Everyone knows mages don’t execute their own!”
Keldoran kept quiet, refraining from entering the conversation. He could see the different personalities already, and it made for an interesting journey. Corg, the happy and mischievous juggler, Relb, slightly gullible, maybe a bit slow on the uptake, and Yvanna, pompous and arrogant, not taking jokes at all well. Then there was he, a curious adventurer. He had much to learn about the ways of people. It unnerved him slightly that he found the high and mighty Yvanna oddly attractive.
The conversation continued, the Bu’kep asking most of the questions and talking the most. Keldoran did not mind, for Corg’s voice was wonderful. He could listen to it all day, and the juggler was incredibly witty and funny. Relb was laughing loudly at the juggler’s jokes, and it passed the time in the carriage well. Yvanna fell silent, not speaking hardly at all, just staring into space like she did in Demorbaln when waiting for the mage.
Keldoran tried to catch a glimpse of the mage riding outside, but his viewpoint in the carriage was limited. He looked out at the land travelling by outside, and was pleased to see the sun bob on the horizon, almost winking at him. He was glad it wasn’t raining, for he could see the world unfold before him. Rolling fields of green, and trees stretching tall and wide. He enjoyed the ride immensely.
They stopped briefly on the first day of travel, to get some food, water and to stretch their legs. The mage said very little, simply opening the carriage and pointing to the supplies at the rear. A plentiful supply of fruit and bread was loaded at the back of the carriage, together with some barrels of water, enough sustenance to last a good week on the road. Corg had informed them all it took about three days of travel to reach Malana. He had done it before, apparently.
Keldoran was in awe of the mage, who said nothing but motioned for them to eat. He admitted to himself that he was a little scared of the mage, and of the journey ahead. Relb stayed away from him too, choosing just to get his head down and eat. Yvanna walked a little way from the carriage and the road, in a world of her own. Keldoran wondered, not for the last time, what she was thinking. Corg, on the other hand, positively chatted to the mage, who seemed very ignorant of the conversation, rarely contributing to it.
Corg wandered over to Keldoran after such a conversation, grinning all the time. “He doesn’t say a lot, does he?”
“No,” agreed Keldoran, “nor does Yvanna there.”
“A right bunch we happen to be travelling with, “ chuckled the juggler. “Still, I did manage to glean our travel agenda for the next three days. Tonight we are camping on the roadside in two tents – us four in one and the mage all on his own, the lucky swine. Then, tomorrow we travel through the woodland area to the north of here, finally ending up in the evening in the small village of Roth, where we will be staying in a tavern there. Sounds fun to me! Maybe they’ll be a buxom lass or two to share, eh?”
Keldoran giggled to himself, not sure how to respond to this horned humanoid. The journey did sound fun, though. What an adventure, and not a farm in sight.
“Then, day three,” carried on Corg regardless, “we will reach Malana.”
“Is it as beautiful as it sounds?” asked Keldoran.
“Truly,” said Corg. “I find all places beautiful, however.”