Chapter Eight: Mageborn
A knock on the door gently made its way into the sage’s mind. He placed the quill down beside the large tome and rose from his seat. “Come in,” Gaston said.
Adelia stepped inside the room, a smile wide upon her face.
“Ah, I had heard of your return,” Gaston said. When she arched her eyebrow, he stepped aside, drawing her attention to the bluebird sitting on the windowsill. “When I say a little bird told me, you can be sure I’m serious.”
“So you have been keeping an eye on me,” she insisted.
“Young lady, I have quite a few spies, both furry and feathered,” the sage quipped. “Homer watched over your journey, and thus, I know about your encounter.”
“With the dragon?”
“That’s right. I know how you escaped the fearsome creature. I know how you utilized the knowledge you’ve gained in these last few days to facilitate such an escape.”
“Ah, but I doubt your little bird ventured into the cave,” Adelia challenged. “I’ll bet I still have a couple surprises for you.” She swung the satchel around, placing it upon his desk. “I don’t know how useful either of these could be, but I collected them both.” She placed the dark cloak upon the desk and gently laid the page of scribbles down atop it. “These are sketches of some kind of device. Symbols were drawn into the sand.”
“These are wonderful,” the sage insisted. “They’ll help immensely in Thoro’s investigation. But I can’t say I’m surprised, exactly.” Adelia turned her head and arched one of her eyebrows. “I expected no less from you. I didn’t have you brought to Forsynthia simply so I could teach you the ways of the wizard and send you off, back into the world. Nor did I bring you here just to study your innate abilities. Rather, it is a combination of the two that had me insistent upon summoning you here.
“You see,” he continued, “you are already well on your way to becoming a great sorceress. You were born with the power of the mage flowing through your veins. I need that power. That mentality. As you can tell, I’m no longer a spring peach.” He sighed, looking out the window, as if his youth was out there somewhere.
“More like a fuzzy plum,” Adelia teased.
With narrowed eyes and a wrinkly grin, the sage turned to the young lady. “That will be enough of the analogies,” he said, though his voice carried some merriment. “I brought you here to be more than just a student of the arcane arts. In my old age, I need someone who can take on my work and help me to establish my legacy. I’d like you to be my apprentice, Adelia.”
As the words washed over the young lady, her eyes continued to sparkle brilliantly. Her smile brightened, and she began to nod. “I would be delighted to be your apprentice. These past few days have been very enlightening, and I’m sure you have an excess of skills and trades to show me.”
“It does my old heart well to hear you say that,” the wizened wizard said. “Now, if you’ll have a seat at your desk, I’ll show you –”
“I beg your pardon, Gaston,” she interrupted.
“Just Gaston will…” he began to say. When her words finally resonated in his mind, he could not hide his upturned lips.
“I beg your pardon,” Adelia repeated. “Though these past few days have been… entertaining in their own way, they’ve also been exhausting. As my first order of business as your apprentice, I’ll be assisting you in giving me the rest of the day off. Besides, I have a date.”
He stepped back, opening his eyes wide and allowing his lips to droop. “A date?”
Merlin pushed his way through the door, happily spinning around his master’s new apprentice. He gleefully rubbed against the mage’s ankle.
“We’re going to chase butterflies at the wildflower fields,” Adelia insisted.
Gaston chortled, shaking his head. “Go, child. The gods know you deserve some respite.”
She bowed, the smile still etched upon her face. As she began to take her leave, Merlin just beside her, Gaston took a single step forward.
“Adelia,” he called out.
She popped her head back in through the doorway. “Hmm?”
The sage looked at her, as if ruminating on the most delicate of questions. “A fuzzy plum, eh?”
Shrugging, she grinned mischievously. “Better that than an old raisin.” Giggling to herself, the young lady stepped back and carefully shut the door.
Gaston sighed and turned toward his desk. He slowly sank into his chair, inching forward so that he was just in front of his tome once more. He picked up the quill but set it down once more, looking toward the bluebird on the windowsill.
“Well, Homer,” he said. “She’s picking things up much quicker than I expected. Still, she’ll need looking after. Whatever happened before Viscosa, she hasn’t forgotten yet. She likely never will.
“But if I can continue to challenge her,” he continued. “If I can push her to the boundaries of what she’s capable of, maybe I can prepare her to deal with that pain.”
“She’ll be fine,” the bluebird abruptly replied. “After all, I’m sure you’ve still got plenty of surprises in store for the girl.”
Gaston smiled. “Right you are, old friend. And she’s likely got some for me as well.” He sighed once more. “Ah, to be young again.”
*****
A few stray rays of sunlight snuck past the evening clouds from the west. The bluebird was no longer present, for Gaston chose new company to share his time with.
“The way things are going, Thoro will probably be dead in a week’s time,” Edric said. “There’s no sense keeping him alive if he can offer us nothing. Besides, you know where the white knights stand on the subject of assassination.”
“Ultimately, it will be the magistrate’s decision,” Gaston offered. “And he usually moves toward whatever side can make him more money.”
“You think he’ll hold Thoro as a ransom hostage? But we don’t even know where he’s from.”
“Ah, but you see, that’s where you’re wrong,” Gaston challenged. He reached toward his desk, procuring the black garment there. Without warning, he tossed it to his friend. “Tomorrow, you and I shall begin our own investigation.”
Edric unfolded the cloak, noticing the golden trim upon it, framing the similarly colored golden wing emblazoned upon its center.
“Thoro is from Ippius,” Edric said.
“And I suspect the same of his associates,” Gaston replied. “The only question is why would they want to cripple the white knights?”
“We’ve made enemies over the years for certain,” Edric offered. “But I don’t think we’ve ever crossed paths with anyone of any importance from Ippius.”
“Either way, I’m sure there will be more information to come in the weeks and months to follow. I’ve sent word to many of my associates. Even the unscrupulous ones. There are still some pieces of the puzzle that don’t fit into place.”
“You’re lucky you found any of the pieces at all.”
Gaston flashed his friend a telling grin. “You know I can’t take credit for this.”
“You’re right,” Edric said. “You are. I would have never guessed it, but she turned out to be well worth your attention.”
“I awarded her accordingly,” the sage admitted. “I’ve made her my apprentice.”
Edric’s eyes opened wide, and his jaw dropped. “You’ve never taken on an apprentice.”
“Alas, I can feel these old bones creaking more and more,” Gaston said, sighing. “I fear my adventuring days may be long behind me.”
“And this girl is to be your legacy?”
The old wizard chortled at that notion. “I have my books for that.”
“An understated fact,” Edric conceded. “I hear they’re building a library in Atalatha that has a wing dedicated just to your works.”
“A sight to see, I’m sure,” Gaston said. He sighed and looked out the window, watching t
he sky grow darker. “No, Adelia would be a much greater benefit to this cold, dark place. If she’s anything like her grandfather, she’ll be just fine.”
“If you have faith in her, so do I.”
The old sage nodded enthusiastically. “Someday, Adelia Kreegan is going to change the world.”
Afterword
I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you, the reader, for taking this journey with me. Tellest is a magnificent world, but it wouldn’t be so without you. As you can likely guess, this isn’t the end of the story.
To find more information about the world of Tellest, please visit www.tellest.com for sneak peeks, our newsletter and supplementary information.
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Mageborn Page 9