Creators Guild: A Wizard's Beginning (23 page)

             
He quickly learned how powerful the ring was. The first time trying to push power into it the fire in the fireplace jumped out about burning him to a crisp. He would need to get a new desk now he thought to himself smiling, his old one now lying in ashes on the floor.  He continued to read through all the different spells recalling some from the Terion Chronicles.

             
He barely noticed the door opening and the servant brining in the tray of food. The smell of the roasted ham and vegetables quickly brought him back to reality. Looking outside he noticed that it was well past evening, the stars and moon glistening in the night sky like diamonds on glass. He moved the ring around on his finger thinking of how closely it resembled the night sky.

             
He retired to bed just after eating, the anxiety and excitement of starting the new training now taking its toll on both his mind and body.  The large bed felt like a blanket of clouds, it didn't take long before he was asleep.  This night the dreams came as peaceful moments, reflecting back on his childhood.  His father was there holding him as a young child, teaching him the ways of the hills.  He could see his mother in the distance; it looked as though she was doing the cleaning.

             
The weather was calm; a small breeze was blowing the mountain grass this way and that, the quiet calm of the stream nearby.  He and his father were preparing the wagon to go to town; he could hardly wait to see his friends after such a long and lonely winter season.  He heard someone talking behind him, whenever he turned he couldn’t see anyone, and they always seemed to be right behind him.  The first indication that something was happening was the sudden shadow moving quickly across the ground, the clouds covering up the sun.

             
This was unusual that the weather would change so quickly. The wind was picking up making high pitched whistles as it blew through the nearby trees.  The force of the wind was blowing some of the dead branches off trees, some of the trees falling over completely.  His father picked him up and ran into the house. The shutters on the windows started banging against the walls so his father locked them down to prevent the glass from breaking.

             
His mother still stood where she was unmoving, he noticed how her dress was still hanging only gently blowing not like it should be.  He shouted for her to come into the house, his voice getting lost in the gale force winds.  His father seemed to pay no attention to his mother.  He started to cry, fighting against his fathers’ strength to run out and hold her.

             
He was awakened by the knock on the door. Wiping tears from his eyes he lay there, wanting to know why his mother didn't hear his cries or be affected by the winds.  Who it was that was trying to tell him something, and angry with his father for not letting him go to his mother’s side.

             
A servant brought in his morning meal of fresh baked pastries, fresh fruit, spiced cider and fresh goats milk.  He sat down at the table idly eating his meal, thinking of the dream he just woke up from.  It bothered him, not having dreamt of his family, especially his mother for so long.  Why now were those dreams returning, and why couldn’t his mother hear him.

             
He finished his morning meal and retired to the private library to begin his studies. He still felt weird in his new room.  The size was huge compared to the apprentices’ rooms, and he was still not used to not having to go do the chores or have a patlin standing over him ever second.

             
He sat back in his chair and relaxed thinking back on the dream he had that night.  A few hours later he decided he better go back to the library to start his studies.  He found his way back into the far reaches of the library, the light from the skylights affording him ample light.  The books in this area gave off a musty smell. Some were covered with several layers of dust, proving they had not been looked at for several decmen.

             
He took out the ring placing it on his finger again. He was very weary of using it again after the little display in his room the day before.  He was glad there were no large fires or open flames in the library with all the ancient manuscripts; he figured they would light up faster than a child’s face at festival.  Most of the titles were well worn off the bindings, so he had to pull them out individually, reading over the first few pages of each.

             
He happened by one that talked about the city of Prindley and so he decided to read more on it. Seeing as he was studying one of the oldest remnants from there.  The city was one of the first known cities.  By its close proximity to Mt. Locna it afforded a stable and mild climate.  The nomads were able to develop the specialized tools from the heated rock of the volcano, thus providing means of basic agriculture.

             
The fertile landscape around the base of the mountain provided the early inhabitants with a constant means of providing food without having to travel.  He found a large chair in a secluded corner of the library and sat down to read some more.  As he sat there reading he didn’t feel the power leaving him, the book acting as a marklon channeling the power itself.  He started to fall asleep as his energy was depleted.

             
“Heclomon sid trebli,” someone said behind him.

             
“What?” he replied turning around, seeing a man standing there, clothed in a tunic made from several pieces of hide.

             
“Heclomon sid trebli,” the man repeated, placing an arm over his chest his fist closed then extending it out to him.

             
He looked at the man strangely, trying to figure out what he was saying.  The man looked at him with the same look of confusion, not being able to understand why he was not responding.  They looked at each other for a few minutes, trying to communicate with each other, neither one understanding the other.

             
The man finally gave up trying to talk to him, instead motioned for him to follow him.  Roland understanding what he was trying to say he followed him. He was led down through a forested path, reminding him a lot of home.  He listened to the sounds of the forest, picking out the different types of birds and forest animals by their sounds.  The cool wind feeling so good on his face, it only blew hard enough to ruffle the bottom of his cloak.

             
Coming out of the forest they walked into an open field. He could see some simple dwellings outlining a river, there were a few children running through the field being chased by what appeared to be some dogs.  The women were sitting around a small fire, some sewing, others cooking and preparing foodstuffs.  A few of the other young men were standing next to some tanning racks, stretching the hides of freshly killed animals.

             
They all stopped when the man called out to them. Some of the kids were running up talking in their strange language, pointing and looking at him.  The dogs approached more cautiously, smelling the air for anything that would suggest he was a threat.  Sniffing around his legs, he reached out to touch one of them, when he sensed and heard the guttural sounds behind him. Standing behind him the male dog was going on the defense, still weary of this stranger with the new scents among his owners.

             
As they approached the small village more people started to show their curiosity toward him.  The women pointing at the way he was dressed, never seeing something like that before.  He was taken to the largest house in the village, located in the very center. Standing in the doorway was an older man, his snow white hair falling to his shoulders, his white beard to his chest.  He came walking out, relying heavily on his staff to help him walk.

             
The man that found him, walked over to the old man, talking and pointing in the direction from where they had come.  The other village folks were talking amongst themselves, some pointing at him.  Some of the older children walked closer to him looking at his strange clothes, still weary of this strange person that was now in their village.

             
“The time has arrived, you have found your way,” said the older man, looking him over.

             
“You can understand me,” he said, still shocked at what was going on.

             
“Yes son, I am Ynordial, principal Wizard of Prindley,” he said extending his hand.

             
His vision started spinning the world turning black suddenly. He woke up in Ynordial’s dwelling, lying on a soft bed of cut grass.  A healer was watching over him, giving him some herbs to clear up his head. His mind felt fuzzy and clouded; as he started to wake up he could hear the people around talking and chanting.  He wasn’t able to understand what they were saying so he figured now that he wasn’t dreaming.

             
He sat up slowly taking in his surroundings. The healer and wizard walked over to him. The healer felt his skin and looked him over as the wizard stood back smiling.  He knew better than to interfere with Glinannas work.  She finished her duties and allowed Ynordial to speak with him, warning him that he better be quick because this stranger needed to rest.

             
“So you have finally found your way I see,” said Ynordial, sitting down on the bed next to him.  “I have been waiting many cycles for another traveler to find their way here, you know people like you and I have this rare talent.”

             
“Wizard, I don’t even really understand where I am, or how I got here.  The last thing I remember was sitting in the patlin library, reading a book about Prindley. The next thing I knew here I was,” he said almost on the edge of hysteria again.

             
“It’s alright son, calm down. I understand how this can be confusing for you. You have found a special gift, the ability to mind travel into the past. As I said this is a very rare talent, even among the wizards.  What you do with this gift is up to you, many wonderful lessons can be learned through mind travel, but it does come with risk,” he told him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

             
“My only question is how did I get here and why did I come? Is there something that I’m supposed to do here? Am I supposed to do something that will affect the future?”

             
“You mean you didn’t intentionally come here on your own?” he asked surprised.

             
“No, and what do you mean mind travel and what is the risk?” he asked Ynordial, confused about what was going on.

             
“Mind travel is a rare and almost forgotten means of communication. Even among the most ancient of wizards it was greatly misunderstood.  Only those who had a special purpose were ever found to have it, which means you must have something very important to do in life.”

             
“But what is the risk?”

             
“If you stay in the dream too long your mind accepts it as reality. Once that happens you may never get back to your own reality, that’s what happened to me,” he said walking around the room with his head down.

             
“It must have been the book,” he said still in shock.

             
“What book?”

             
“I was reading a book on the city, and the next thing I know here I was trying to talk to some strange person, and now here I am.”

             
“Why were you reading on the history of a lost city?”

             
“I am studying a marklon, the Perrimon ring, it is said to be made from the molten rock from that mountain.  So I figured why not try to learn more about the people and the place that it came from, seeing as I couldn’t travel there.  I was hoping to learn something new.”

             
“The man who brought you to the village that is Partromon, head of the Prindley clan. They are the ones who will eventually help raise the city to one of the greatest in the world.”

             
“How can I be here before the city is even created then?”

             
“It may be why you were sent here, that is one of the oldest known marklons around, which I’m sure you know. What made you think you would be able to learn anything new?”

             
“Really I’m not sure, I just felt there was something more to this ring,” he said holding up his hand; surprised that it was still there.

             
“May I see it?” he asked, looking at it with a great deal of desire.

             
Roland hesitated long enough that Ynordial could see his reluctance. The idea of giving the ring to him was difficult, especially seeing the glazed look in his eyes.  He pulled his hand back, almost putting it behind his back.

             
“That ring is very powerful, how long have you been in possession of it?”

             
“Two days now.”

             
“And you have learned not to give it up, you are wise.  The marklons will work only for those who remain true to the promises made upon their receipt.  To give them to someone else is to deny your rights to them, did you know that?”