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The messengers were dispatched immediately with a detailed account of their plight for Lady Skie's father, Damarius Stargazer, and with the request for his aid. The messengers returned five days later reporting that traveling on horseback was impossible, and the cliff sides surrounding the small valley were treacherously steep, and nearly impossible to scale. There was only a single trail leading down into the valley, and the forest surrounding the isolated cottage was thick with vegetation and thorny undergrowth, and very difficult to pass through.
Damarius sent word back with them that he would be honored to help them, and would make all the necessary preparations for their arrival. He also sent warning that several ogres had been sighted roaming the mountainside, and to take precautions against an encounter or attack.
Once they had finished making all the necessary preparations around the castle, Lord Michael, Lady Skie, and Damion, in the company of a dozen of the most experienced soldiers from the castle, set off for Damarius’s valley, some twenty miles away.
It was early summer in the Godstear Mountains, and the scorching sun made traveling on foot quite unpleasant. Since there wasn’t any permanent trail for them to follow through the rough and rocky countryside, they decided to take their time, carefully choosing the best route to take so they would not get lost. Even with their precautions, they were often forced to double back and choose a new path, finding their way blocked by landslides or deep chasms which were impossible to cross. They traveled all day and most of the night, stopping only once to rest and refresh themselves near a small stream.
To everyone's surprise, Damion refused to be carried every time his father or nanny offered, pressing on without complaint. He didn't show any signs of fatigue, in fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, pausing often to examine the new surroundings with interest.
They finally made camp late that night near a small gurgling stream. After a quick dinner of dried meat and cheese, they settled down to sleep, leaving six of the castle soldiers to stand guard. They arose with the dawning sun, and after a hasty breakfast of dried fruit, they continued on their trek towards Damarius's isolated valley. By mid-morning, they reached the steep cliffs that surrounded the valley.
It took quite some time to locate the lone path that led down the cliff side into the valley below. It was a narrow, hazardous trail that led nearly straight down the cliff side, and was very difficult to traverse. They descended in a single file line, carefully finding footholds where they could.
Lord Michael put his foot down and insisted that Damion be carried down the cliff side, ignoring the boy's protests that he could make it down on his own. After several long minutes of arguing, Damion finally sighed in resignation and sulkily climbed onto his father's back, though he made it very clear to everyone that he was quite sure that he could do it himself.
They slowly started down the trail, moving carefully so not slip on the loose gravel. They had made it almost halfway down the steep path, when one of the castle soldiers lost his footing, and fell tumbling down the steep trail towards the sharp, jagged rocks below. The soldier screamed in terror as he plunged past Lord Michael and Damion, who scrambled to one side to avoid being swept off the cliff side. Then suddenly, to everyone's amazement, the soldier's descent began to slow, until he hovered in the air, mere inches from the jagged rocks which would have killed him.
“By the gods!” One of the soldiers exclaimed, staring at his fellow warrior in astonishment. “H-How are you doing that, Keenan?”
“I’m not!” The helpless soldier screamed, still hovering in mid-air. “Help me!”
Lady Skie glanced over to Damion, who was pointing one finger at the floating soldier, an expression of intense concentration on his face. “Bring him back to the cliff side.” She whispered, hoping none of the other soldiers noticed. The soldier slowly began to float closer to the cliff side until he was able to scramble and get a firm hand and foothold. He looked around with a dazed expression, having no idea what had just happened to him. He really didn't seem to care. He was just happy to be alive.
They managed to make it to rest of the way down the trail safely, then they paused for a while to relax and catch their breaths. Lady Skie and Lord Michael were relieved that the soldiers did not seem to have any idea that Damion had used his powers to save the soldier from crashing into the rocks below. After several minutes of discussion, they convinced themselves that an updraft of wind had somehow kept him aloft and pushed him back towards the cliff side and safety.
When they were all feeling rested and recovered enough to continue, they slowly pushed their way into the lush forest that surrounded Damarius's cottage.
“My grandfather built this cottage during the Goblin Wars, about seventy-five years ago.” Lady Skie told them as they chopped a path through the thick underbrush. “When I was a child, my father brought me here to live after my mother passed away. He told me that this valley was an enchanted place, a sanctuary of peace and tranquility. That's why my grandfather chose this valley. It is rarely visited, and, being so difficult to reach, there isn't much chance of goblins or ogres trying to attack.”
By mid-afternoon, they were all exhausted from fighting their way through the thick tangle of undergrowth. It was extremely difficult chopping their way through the dense foliage, which seemed unusually resistant to the blows of their blades. The sweltering heat made their work nearly unbearable, and the shade from the huge primeval trees provided little relief. They were all soon drenched with sweat, and their water supply rapidly began to dwindle.
When they finally emerged from the forest, they saw the isolated cottage in the center of a large clearing. It was large compared to the cottages and huts in Sevria, built with thick granite blocks, and decorated with huge stained glass windows of every color of the rainbow. There was a large, well-tended garden behind the cottage that was filled with exotic spices and strange vegetables, and a small orchard of apple and pear trees growing next to the garden to help protect it from the elements.
A huge, ancient weeping willow tree grew next to the cottage, towering high over everything in the valley, seeming to rival even the mountains themselves. Its trunk could easily swallow the entire cottage, and its gnarled, twisted roots hung off the bank of a wide, swift flowing stream that carved its way through the valley.
Damion was completely enchanted by the great willow tree, and was unable to take his eyes from it. The sheer immensity of the tree boggled his mind! He couldn’t believe that anything that huge existed! It seemed to almost call to him, inviting him to climb its branches, explore its heights, and relax in the comfort of its shade.
Damarius, Lady Skie's father, greeted them as they approached the cottage. He was a short, odd-looking fellow with a large crooked nose, and a long flowing white beard that reached well past his waist. His head was completely bald, save for a wild shock of white hair that sprouted from the top of his head and fell across his eyes, practically obscuring his vision completely. His long brown robe was wrinkled and stained with wine and old food, and patched with numerous colorful patches, adding a lively touch to the otherwise dull robe. A large black belt hung around his waist holding an assortment of pouches that bulged with strange objects, and he wore an old pair of mud-caked boots that looked as though they were nearly as old as he was.
Despite his shabby appearance, Damarius proved to be a very kind and gracious host, and after he gave them a quick tour of the cottage, he led them to the guest rooms to rest and refresh themselves from their tiring journey.
Damion was delighted with his new bedroom. It was surprisingly spacious, with a large feather bed piled high with colorful pillows, and several large chests that were overflowing with toys. His favorite feature of the room was the large stained glass windows that opened to overlook the garden. He could already imagine the hours that he would spend enjoying the magnificent view that they provided.
After resting and refreshing thems
elves from their journey, they met in the dining hall for a succulent dinner of roast duck that had been stuffed with strange vegetables, and seasoned with the spices from Damarius's garden. Everyone enjoyed themselves immensely, eating with great relish, and washing it down with a delicate elven wine that Damarius produced from his pantry.
Once everyone had eaten their fill, the strange old man led them to his private study to discuss the details of Damion's education. Lord Michael explained their entire story, beginning with the night of the dragonspawn attack, and continuing up until their present visit.
When he finished, Damarius scratched his head thoughtfully for several moments. “You were wise to seek my help when you did.” The old wizard said finally. “He needs to begin learning how to control his power immediately. If he is as powerful as you say, he cannot be allowed to let his magic rage unchecked. He must be taught how to restrain and control it.” He turned his gaze towards Damion, who stood quietly near the fireplace, listening with interest. “So, my young friend, your father tells me you are quite a remarkable child.”
Damion looked at the strange wizard and shrugged. “I use can use magic, if that's what you mean.”
Damarius laughed, absently brushing his brow lock from his eyes. “I’m going to help you learn how to control your gifts. I will be your new teacher.”
“Can you use magic, too?”
“Aye. That I can. You're going to remain here with Skie and myself so you can begin your studies and lessons. Do you understand?”
Damion smiled politely and nodded, then settled down to watch the fire dance in the hearth while his father, nanny, and new teacher discussed the details of his education. He was soon sleeping soundly, finally succumbing to the exhaustion from their travels. Lady Skie gently lifted him into her arms, and after bidding Lord Michael and her father goodnight, quietly retired for the evening.
Lord Michael watched as Lady Skie slipped quietly from the room with his son, then turned to the strange old man. “I would like to arrange for my son to begin his training in the art of combat as soon as possible. He is a little young, but as you can clearly see, he is large for his age, and is very strong.”
Damarius looked skeptical. “Do you really think he is ready for something of that magnitude? Granted, he is large for his age, but he should really be concentrating on his studies and learning how to control his magic. As it is, most of his time will be spent studying with Skie, or practicing his gifts with myself. He won't have much time for himself to just be a child. If we add training with weapons into the mix, it may be too much for him.”
“I have already discussed this with my son and your daughter. We are all in agreement that he should begin his training as soon as we are able to locate someone we can trust to train him.” Lord Michael chuckled. “In fact, Damion is quite excited at the idea of learning how to wield a sword.”
“Are you sure that he will be able to handle the pressure? We are asking a lot of one so young. This is going to consume all of his waking hours. He'll have very little time for a normal childhood.”
Lord Michael smiled. “Damion is not a normal child, as you will soon discover. I have absolute faith in my son. He will be able to handle it.” His tone clearly indicated his mind was set.
Damarius sighed heavily. “Very well. If you insist on it, then I may know of someone who may be able to help us. He is a master swordsman, and very skilled in the art of combat. His name is Gabriel Quickhand, though he prefers to go by the name of Sly, and I doubt if there is a better swordsman on this entire continent.”
“Is this gentleman trustworthy?”
The old wizard laughed. “Sly is definitely no gentleman. He is a drunken lecher with little morals, and no sense of propriety. But he is an old friend of mine, and I know he can be trusted. I will send word to him immediately. I'm sure he will be delighted to help.”
Lord Michael smiled gratefully. “Thank you for all of your help. I will always be in your debt.”
“It is I who should be thanking you. If he is as powerful as you say, Damion may grow up to be one of the most powerful sorcerers ever to have lived.” Damarius's voice was full of excitement. “Magic is a rare gift, and to be able to help him on his way would be a great honor.”
Lord Michael rose to his feet, and bowed to the old wizard. “It is time for me to retire. I must return to the castle immediately. I’ll be leaving at dawn.” He turned to leave, then paused, looking back with a sly grin. “Oh, by the way, keep a close eye on Damion. He is full of surprises!”
Omensent: Birth of a Dragon Lord Page 8