The Reluctant Mage: Book One in the Zandar Series (4 page)

The next several months were uneventful. Marko was able to clear out another two rooms from the basement level. He was disappointed that he did not find anything of value, but his uncle told him that he had to be more patient in this kind of work.

The dreams continued. Sometimes he was walking along a beach, other times he was walking through the same city. He never experienced that first, awful dream but he could still recall it vividly. During the last few dreams, people would talk to him. It was hard to understand them. It was as if he had cotton balls in his ears. He usually was standing or sitting next to two adults. They would look down on him kindly and occasionally patted his head. They did not look like his parents, though. They were taller but much thinner than his parents.

One morning he came down for breakfast and saw his mother weeping quietly at the table. When she heard Marko enter the room she turned to him and said, “Marko, please sit down. Your uncle and I have something important to tell you.”

Just then, his uncle came in from the kitchen and sat down next to his sister. “Marko, it is time for my report to the Council. I will be leaving tomorrow for Zandar City. I talked to your mother about this. You will be coming with me.”

“Thank you! Both of you!” Marko exclaimed. He was finally going to see the great city of the Emperor. Maybe he would even meet the council when his uncle made the report.

“Don’t thank me yet, m’boy. We both feel that it is time for you to learn to make your own way in this world. You are almost fifteen years old. Most boys your age have apprenticed themselves to a guild or are learning to take over the family business. No fault of yours, of course. The Maker bless your father’s soul.”

“No, we need to get you a proper education so that when the time comes, you can choose your own path. You have put on some muscle since you have been here so the path of steel might be a good choice. Even soldiers need a basic education, especially if they want to lead men. It will also allow you to fulfill your obligation to the Emperor so that your children do not have to serve. If the life of the book is more to your suiting, you will need more education. Did you know your mother once studied at the University? That was before a dashing young cadet swept her off her feet.” Marko’s mother blushed. He had heard how his mother and father had met, when his father was posted at a village nearby the University.

“I have some contacts at the imperial orphanage in Zandar City. Your mother and I will cover your tuition out of the money she brought with her and my stipend. We won’t be able to afford an allowance, but the orphanage will take care of your basic needs. There have been many successful officers and even a few mages that once called the orphanage home. It is not a place of luxury but it will offer you the foundation of knowledge for you to be successful. What you do with the opportunity is up to you. I encourage you, however, to study hard. I doubt the council will fund me to work here for more than another year, unless I discover something of great importance. That means I will head back to the Universite and there will be no job for you here.”

They spoke most of the morning about what supplies they would take, how long the journey would be and what to expect at the orphanage.

That night Marko sat in his bed and stared at the pictures on the wall. He had just gotten to the point where he considered this cave his home. He knew that turning fifteen meant that life would change for him. The Emperor expected all men of fifteen to begin a career, but being here seemed like its own little world. His uncle’s conversation had brought him back to reality. The problem was that Marko had no real idea of what he wanted to do. Training with his father in combat skills was probably the most enjoyable time he had ever had. He was not sure if it was because he liked sword work or if it was due the time he spent with him. His father had told him that he had a gift with the sword. Although Marko was not the strongest boy of his age, he was certainly the fastest. He often scored touches on this father with practice swords, just because his father would become tired and slowed down. Still, being stuck on garrison duty at some outlying village did not sound too exciting.

His father often made fun of the “soft careers” as he had called it. Marko’s father made fun of the bureaucrats of the Empire. These were the men who ran the towns and villages and shuffled paper in the capital. He said that when you worked behind a desk, you lost focus on what was important. He said that unless you lived near the border or were in the army, you never knew your responsibility to serve the Emperor. He often joked that all officials in Zandar City should be required to perform a tour at a border post at least once in their career. “At one time,” he said, “all people that reported directly to the Emperor had been in the Imperial Army. Now, most of them have never looked death in the eye.” 

The next morning, Marko and his uncle departed their home. They took one of the mules to carry their supplies. “We couldn’t get horses up here anyway,” his uncle said when Marko asked why they had to walk during the journey.

They spent the whole morning and two phases of the afternoon meandering through the rocky mountainside. As they descended, the scattering of pines turned into a denser forest. They eventually found a small road that wound through the trees. His uncle said that this road had no name but eventually connected to the great coastal road. They travelled for another three marks when his uncle said that they better set up camp.

The two of them pulled the mule several hundred yards from the road until they found a deadfall created by a large oak. As Marko began setting up a lean-to against the tree, he heard the distinctive sound of a sword coming out of a scabbard. Marko twirled around only to see his uncle holding a short sword in his hand.

“Although the coast road is patrolled by Imperial soldiers, there are bandits about. We better be armed from here on out. This sword is not fit for the Emperor but it is serviceable. Consider it a gift from me.”

Marko took the sword reverently. He had never owned a sword. The practice sword he and his father practiced with did not count. This blade only measured two feet in length and had a short guard protecting the handle. The grip was covered in a rough leather wound in wire. Marko noticed that something was scraped off the metal guard. He looked up at his uncle questioningly.

“It is a decommissioned Imperial blade. There used to be an eagle inscribed on there. Most infantry battalions have been issued longer blades. Be proud of holding that m’boy. There is no telling how many Kastav soldiers that sword has struck. The Emperor issues these to civilians who have need of them. You will never see one sold by the Merchant’s Guild.”

They ate a small meal that evening. There was no time to set up traps for small game, so they had to delve into the rations that they took with them.

The next morning they got up at the crack of dawn.  After breaking their fast, they were back on the road quickly. They hoped to reach a small town Marko’s uncle mentioned by that evening. They spent most of the morning discussing what was expected of Marko at the orphanage. As it turns out, the facility was originally established to support boys who had lost their parents. It eventually included those children whose parents could not afford to support their children. This included children of soldiers who were on active duty. The Emperor took over the administration of the school about ten years ago. Its new mission was to train boys (there was another orphanage for girls) for future careers in the Empire. The Empire needed a steady supply of educated young men for the various, low-level positions throughout the country.

Just before nightfall, they saw the stone wall of a small town named Clandar. As they approached, they saw two Imperial guards walk out of a small guard shack at the town gate. Both had beards sprinkled with gray and were well armed. They walked up with a swagger that showed confidence.

“Welcome gentlemen. Please state your business.”

“Professor Berisha from Comte Universite on business with the Empire. This is my nephew Marko.”

“Yes sir.” said the guard in charge. “Have a good evening.” The guards casually walked back to their shack.

After they entered the town, Marko turned to his uncle. “Those guards were very courteous, more so than at my village.”

“Those guards, Marko, knew what they were about. Did you see how old they were? They were close to mandatory retirement. My guess is there were forty years of experience between the two of them.  Before they even spoke to us they both noticed our swords. I am sure they recognized the Imperial pattern. That meant that we were either working for the Emperor or we had stolen them. I guess we did not look very nervous from our demeanor, so that left them with one choice. I am surprised they even asker our business instead of waving us through.”

Marko just shook his head.
I guess I have a lot to learn.

Clandar was a large town yet no one would call it a city. It sat on top of a large hill littered with winding streets. As they walked up the hill on the cobble streets, the buildings became nicer. Not that any of the stone buildings exactly looked bad. It was just that a butcher or tanner’s shop could look (and smell) only so good. By the time they walked halfway up the hill, what shops remained had pictures of diamonds or clothing on them. This neighborhood was obviously where the wealthier citizens of the town shopped.

After a quarter of a mark, they arrived at a large inn. The sign showed a picture of an eagle holding two swords. The name below it was “Emperor’s Arms”. “This is our lodging for the night.” said his uncle. “Take the mule around back. There will a boy there that will take care of him.”

When Marko walked into the inn later, he saw his uncle sitting at a table in the main room. He waved him over. After he sat down, Marko snuck looks at the crowd in the room. Most patrons appeared to be merchants. They wore metal pins that looked like scales on their tunics; a sign that they were licensed in the Empire. There were two men in the uniform of the Imperial Army. These men were no mere soldiers. One wore gold braid on one shoulder, while the other one wore a cape that looked like it was made from wolf pelts.

“Wolf Regiment,” his uncle said while Marko was staring at them.

“Huh?”

“Those men. They are officers in the Wolf Regiment. You can tell by their capes but the real giveaway is their hair. The regiment was awarded years ago an exemption on hair length. If you look closely, those men have their hair tied up in back. When they go into battle, they wear their hair down. They also like to howl like a wolf during a charge. Kind of a barbaric practice that dates back to the savage years. Still, the men like the tradition.”

The two ate in relative silence occasionally discussing how much ground they were going to cover the next day. When they were almost finished with their meal, the door opened and shut quickly. Marko looked to see who came in and was frozen by what he saw. A man stood there taking in all the patrons sitting in the room. He wore all black including his fur cloak. It looked much like the officer’s at the table, except it was as black as night. He also had a black hood drawn over his face. At least Marko thought it was a “he” as he could not see much of the man’s face. 

As the man slowly walked towards the officers, a serving girl bowed and backed away from the man. Marko noticed that all conversation had stopped in the room. No one was staring at the man, but there was no doubt his presence was causing anxiety with many. The man approached the two officers who had stood up. The officers drew their fists to their chest in a salute that was returned by the man. Then all three sat down and began a conversation.

“Don’t stare,” said his uncle.

“What? Oh yeah, but who is he? He’s kind of dressed like the others, yet different.”

“You were starring at an Imperial Mage. They all wear black but that fur cloak signifies that he is affiliated with the Wolf Regiment.”

Marko could not believe he was in the same room with a mage. They were legendary fighters, and only a few people from his village ever admitted talking to one. He looked back at the man. To his shock, the man was staring at him! Marko immediately turned around and looked down at his stew. After a few minutes, Marko said to his uncle under his breadth, “Is he still looking at me?”

“Don’t worry, m’boy. Those three left a minute ago. He seemed to take an interest in you, and that’s no doubt. Did you meet him in your village?”

“I never saw him before. That was the first mage I ever seen.”