Wizard's Education (Book 2)
Wizard's Education
James A. Eggebeen
Copyright © 2012
James A. Eggebeen
All rights reserved.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I have to thank my wife, Maridel, for putting up with all my crazy hours and ideas. I can always count on her as my first reader.
Dixie Pieslack once again put in a lot of effort as a beta reader giving not only her valuable time,but great feedback. The rest of the Saturday morning writer's group including Mary Etta, David and Richard were great for feedback.
Lastly, I want to thank Ella Medler who edited the final manuscript. Took time out of her busy schedule to show me around Cornwall and Plymouth while we discussed the book. She did her usual super job on the grammar, punctuation and spelling and a great help in fine tuning the plot and action.
Challenge
Zhimosom prepared the spell that would take him to the confrontation he'd avoided for far too long. He'd scoured his library, brushed up on incantations he might need, and committed to memory anything he thought would give him an edge in the battle to come. He mixed and packed the special ingredients that would power the more arcane spells and breathed a heavy sigh.
"You're committed to this, then?" Rotiaqua asked. The Sorceress sat across from the Wizard. Her long white hair mirrored his own just as many of her mannerisms did. He was constantly moving his flowing beard out of the way of his preparations.
"I am." Zhimosom pulled at his robe and settled into his chair. He leaned over the table, folding his aged hands on top of the book that lay before him.
He spread his palms and an image appeared above the book. It showed a young man in his twentieth summer, tall and strong with a serious look on his face the belittled his age. He held a Wizard's staff in his hand. Beside him, stood a woman of similar age. She wore her hair in long curls that dropped to her shoulder and had a far less stern expression.
An aura of magic surrounded them, a light purple mist emanated from each of them to wrap around the other. It was the bond of magic between a paired Wizard and Sorceress. It was a bond Zhimosom knew well. It was the same bond he shared with the Sorceress Rotiaqua.
He knew Rotiaqua was fond of them by the way she looked at their image. She had taken the girl, Chihon, under her tutelage and had become a fast friend to Lorit almost since Zhimosom had first sensed the lad's powers awaken.
"They need to come to Amedon, and undertake the trials." Zhimosom looked up at Rotiaqua. "We've waited far too long for another pair to form. We can't afford to lose them to a traitor. It might be yet again four hundred summers before another Sorceress like her arises at just the right time to pair with a Wizard like him."
Rotiaqua reached out and patted his hand. Her hands were old, but not quite as bony and thin as his were. Her long years had done little to destroy the well fed appearance or dim the ever present look of mischief from her face. She still reminded Zhimosom of the girl he'd met in his youth.
"I thought the Temple was behind their troubles?" Rotiaqua asked. "Did you find something else?"
"There is a Wizard working in league with the Temple." Zhimosom waved his hand and the image of the youngsters vanished. "I am convinced of it. I can feel it in the residue left in their wake. It's not just the Temple any longer." Zhimosom sat back in his chair. "There is nothing to do but confront the traitor directly."
"Do you think that's wise? What if he does have Temple magic at his command?"
"I have my own sources of magic to draw on," Zhimosom said.
"I trust you will be careful. You know how I depend on you."
"I will take all due care, but if I don't confront him now, he will only grow stronger. It is best done quickly."
Zhimosom closed the book and stood. He was committed to his course of action, but he was apprehensive. Meeting another Wizard in his own domain was always fraught with peril.
He looked at Rotiaqua once more. "Wish me luck," he said as he invoked the travel spell.
As the disorientation cleared, Zhimosom found himself in a study much like his own. There were books and Wizardly paraphernalia strewn about the dusty room in a haphazard manner. Some Wizards liked a nice clean workspace, but Zhimosom wasn't one of them, nor was his adversary.
Zhimosom always said he knew exactly where everything was from the last time he'd used it. Putting things away would only require him to remember not only where he'd used the item last, but also where he'd stored it. That was simply too much to bother with.
"Welcome," a voice spoke out of the darkness. "Glad you could make it."
Zhimosom peered into the gloomy corner of the room. He could barely make out the form sitting in the chair behind the desk. He removed his glasses and cleaned them, replaced them on his face, and squinted to get a better look. The figure waited patiently.
"That's better," Zhimosom muttered. "There's no use hiding in the shadows. Let me see you."
The Wizard rose from his seat and stepped into the light. He was young, barely a hundred summers in age. His hair was dark brown and thick, his beard neatly trimmed, and he wore the robes of a senior member of the Wizards' Council. His dark and foreboding eyes were ones that Zhimosom recognized instantly from many a Council meeting. "So it's you, then?"
"Yes, it's me."
"I believe you have taken it upon yourself to interfere with one of my students," Zhimosom stated. "A young Wizard named Lorit."
"Why would you say such a thing?" He took a step towards Zhimosom. "Are you accusing me of treachery?"
"Yes. He's been plagued by the Temple since the power awoke in him. It was only lately that I sensed that someone was aiding the Priests against him."
The Wizard shrugged.
"Do you deny it?"
The Wizard moved closer and Zhimosom stepped back, trying to keep the separation between them optimal, for the battle he knew was coming.
"Deny it? Why should I deny anything?" The Wizard raised his hand to reveal a ball of violet light that spun rapidly and shed sparks. He looked at it almost lovingly, then back at Zhimosom. "The Temple has granted me access to power, more power than I ever dreamed of - enough to defeat even you."
Zhimosom stood his ground and raised a shimmering wall of protective magic around him in preparation for the assault. He wished he were just a hundred years younger as he called upon the depths of his magic, summoning it to him, focusing it, bending it to his will.
He reached into a small leather bag that hung at his waist and grasped a handful of the carefully prepared mixture. He scattered it on the floor in front of his feet, creating an arc of protection between himself and the traitor. "Capere persona qui venit adversantur me," he said commanding the potion to bind the one who came against him.
Smoke rose from the powder, thick and dark. It flared into a brilliant crimson flame, forming an impenetrable wall between them. Zhimosom could feel the heat of it on his face and hands as he poured his power into it.
"You have always trusted in your shields, but they won't help you now." The Wizard took a step towards the wall of fire and raised his hands, he inserted them into the flames and separated them, parting Zhimosom's barrier as if it were but a curtain of fine silk.
He stepped through.
Zhimosom shuffled back, retreating to put some distance between them once more.
The Wizard advanced and the battle commenced, each one throwing magic at the other. Spells were deftly caught, diverted, warded, but as the battle raged on, Zhimosom felt himself giving more ground than he'd wished. It was exhausting and he had only his own magic to draw upon, while his opponent had the stored magic of the Temple's many victims at his command.
"Just one more step," the Wizard said advancing on him.
Startled, Zhimosom stepped back. He felt a strange sensation rising from the floor beneath him and looked down. A hexagram with complex and powerful symbols inscribed in each vertex had been carefully drawn on the hardwood floor. He recognized the symbols as those meant to bind him and dampen his magical powers.
A brief flash of panic struck him before he calmed himself and quietly worked the magic that would counter the spell. It should have released him instantly, but something powered it that he had not expected.
He struggled against it, panic rising in him as it clenched around his body, immobilizing him. He grew angry, angry with himself for falling for such a simple trap, angry at his inability to defeat such a basic spell. He focused his rage, but it was no use. He was trapped.
"Tenent hostium ieiunium," the Wizard said, commanding the hexagram to freeze Zhimosom where he stood. The colors in the diagram spun, slowly at first, but gaining speed quickly. The diagram threw off sparks, as the red light wove its way around each of the outlying symbols.
"Eum ligare ubi stat," the Wizard continued, binding Zhimosom and his magic. The inner hexagram lit up with a deep violet light that chased around the perimeter sparking new life into each outlying symbol until the entire diagram was alive with the rushing light.
"Caperent eum ibi aeterno," the Wizard shouted, commanding the spell to trap Zhimosom for all eternity. He stepped back and laughed.
Zhimosom reached out to Rotiaqua. The connection was weak and tenuous. The spells were already sapping his strength. He had barely enough time to get a few words out. "Be careful. It's ..." He didn't get the chance to tell her the name of the traitor before the spell took hold and silenced the connection. Zhimosom cast his glance back at the traitorous Wizard.
The Wizard smiled as he took a seat at the table. "I could only have dreamed that you would show up right in the middle of my trap."
"Why are you doing this?" Zhimosom struggled to get the words out. The spell was growing stronger, dampening his will, draining his magic, and keeping him from speaking any words that might free him or weaken his prison.
"It should be obvious." The Wizard looked up at him. "All these years I've had to put up with your rules and your code of conduct. You're getting old, it's time you stepped down and let your successor take over.
"When I discovered that you were planning to hand your legacy over to a foundling, a mere boy, well, that was just too much to bear. I can ill afford a young new Wizard being set up to rule the Council." The Wizard paged through the large tome he'd been examining when Zhimosom arrived.
"I've had enough of your interfering ways," he shouted. He flipped through the pages of the book tearing one of them. He stood up and leaned over the desk towards Zhimosom, his face red and hot. "This cannot be allowed. The Wizards' Council needs a strong leader, not a doddering old fool or an ignorant young boy."
The Wizard smoothed out the page he'd ripped. "No, I'm not going to lose my temper. This must be done calmly and with proper forethought." He stood, pushing his chair back, reached down, picked up his pack, and slung it over his shoulder. He grasped his staff and strode around the table to confront Zhimosom.
"You should be safe here for a while. If you don't mind, I will leave you alone with your regrets. I have a Priest to see."
The Wizard headed out of his study without looking back.
Sulrad waited for the traitor to arrive. He thought of the Wizard as a traitor, for what else would you call someone who had turned from a faithful member of the Wizards' Council to an agent of the Temple? He didn't for one heartbeat think that the Wizard could be trusted, but the plan the traitor offered was too good an opportunity to lose simply because of a lack of trust. He would keep a watchful eye on him.
"He has arrived, Father," Sulrad's assistant notified him.
"Enter." Sulrad fingered the ornate knife that sat on his desk. He had nothing to fear from any of his guests, but it gave him some slight comfort to greet this particular guest armed.
He waited until he was certain that the traitor was growing restless before he looked up. The traitor was a young wizard, too young to be this insolent, being barely a hundred summers in age. He had thick, dark brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match.
Sulrad's was the only chair in his study, so his guests always stood. As the head of the Temple of Ran, he preferred to keep his visitors standing, so he could dismiss them quickly once his business was complete. It was also easier to clean up in the event someone angered him and he had to reduce them to ash, a fact that was not lost on his underlings.
"It's done." The traitorous Wizard stood there in his arrogance.
"You're certain that you have Zhimosom safely bound?"
"I was able to access the power of the Temple that you provided for that effort and found it sufficient. He should be safely out of your way for the foreseeable future."