Aquamancer (mancer series Book 2)

by Don Callander

  Aquamancer

  Don Callander

  Published by Mundania Press

  By Don Callander

  Pyromancer

  Aquamancer

  Geomancer

  Aeromancer

  Marbleheart

  The Reluctant Knight

  Dragon Companion

  Dragon Rescue

  Dragon Tempest

  Dragon Winter

  Warlock’s Bar & Grill

  Warlock’s All & Sundry

  Teddybear, Teddybear

  Cruise of the CSS Pocahontas

  Star Warrior

  Aquamancer

  Copyright © 1993, 2013 by Don Callander

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Cover Art © 2013 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  eBook ISBN-13 978-1-59426-177-0

  Trade Paperback ISBN-13: 978-1-59426-179-4

  First Mundania Edition • October 2013

  Published by:

  Mundania Press

  An Imprint of Celeritas Unlimited LLC

  6457 Glenway Ave., #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher, Mundania Press LLC, 6457 Glenway Avenue, #109, Cincinnati, Ohio 45211, books@mundania.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  Prologue

  or, What Came Before

  Douglas Brightglade, son of a master shipbuilder lost at sea, apprenticed himself to a Fire Wizard, or Pyromancer, Flarman Flowerstalk, also called Firemaster, and lived at Flarman’s home, Wizard’s High, in Valley, in the land called Dukedom. After several years of intensive training, Douglas rose to the rank of Journeyman Pyromancer.

  Douglas and his Master were called upon to assist a Water Adept, Aquamancer Augurian of Waterand Island, in battle against the very powerful and wicked Ice King, Frigeon.

  Their ways parted, as Flarman undertook a mission of great danger to Frigeon’s Ice Palace on the glacier Eternal Ice. Douglas was entrusted with the delivery of a magic Great Gray Pearl to Augurian.

  While Flarman was matching wits with Frigeon, Douglas was lost overboard from a ship at Sea, was rescued by the Asrai, a Phosphorescence, and was cast ashore on Flowring Isle, where he met a pearl fisher’s beautiful daughter, Myrn Manstar.

  When Myrn was kidnapped by Duke Eunicet, one of Frigeon’s evil minions, Douglas went to her rescue assisted by a Great Sea Tortoise named Oval.

  Meanwhile, Flarman had escaped from Frigeon and sailed to Augurian’s Waterand Island, where he and Douglas were reunited. The two Fire Wizards helped Augurian launch a fateful Sea Battle against Frigeon and his host of Goblins, Ghouls, Ogres, Banshees, and bloodthirsty renegade Men.

  Under cover of this Battle of Sea, the Wizard and his Journeyman gained entrance to Frigeon’s magic workshop deep inside the glacier under Ice Palace and destroyed the Pearl, a talisman that allowed the Ice King to be completely wicked.

  Augurian enrolled Myrn as his own Apprentice, and she and Douglas planned to wed when she was far enough along in her studies. Meanwhile, the survivors gathered together to begin undoing the evil enchantments wrought by the Ice King. Frigeon himself was exiled to his glacier, which was rapidly melting away, creating a New Land.

  Upon their triumphant return to Wizards’ High, Flarman’s cottage in Valley of Dukedom, Flarman gave a wonderful Homecoming Party for everybody who helped defeat the Ice King—and the Pyromancer assigned Journeyman Douglas Brightglade to Journey in his craft to Old Kingdom, to check on reports of a Coven of Black Witches there, and earn his full Mastery.

  Here the story continues...

  Part One

  Journeying

  Chapter One

  Leaving Home

  Journeyman Wizard Douglas Brightglade, student of the arcane and ancient magical arts and sciences, colleague of Master Pyromancer Flarman Flowerstalk, fiancé of Apprentice Aquamancer Myrn Manstar of Flowring Isle, friend of Dwarfs, Faeries, Dragons, Sea Creatures, Wraiths, and resident of Wizards’ High in Valley of Dukedom, opened his eyes to bright winter sunshine coming through his unshuttered bedroom windows.

  He stretched his arms wide and yawned, shook his close-cropped brown locks, rubbed his Sea blue eyes, and slid his bare feet out from under the counterpane.

  In a furry flurry, Pert and Party, Wizards’ High’s resident female cats, jumped from the foot of his bed to the broad-planked floor and scurried to the window, mewing a greeting to Douglas and to the morning.

  “Breakfast!” said the Journeyman, aloud to himself, “but a bath first. Then say good-bye and start my Journeying.”

  “Journeymen,” said Bronze Owl, gliding through the open window with a tremendous clatter of metal wings to perch upon the bedstead, “are, by definition, travelers.”

  “I know, I know!” cried Douglas, pulling on his trousers. This morning was the last of such homey comfort he could expect for many a day. He was off on a mission for the Fellowship of Wizards—at the moment consisting of himself, Flarman Flowerstalk, and the Water Adept, Augurian of Waterand Island and Warm Seas—that very morning.

  Bounding down the curving staircase, he found Blue Teakettle sputtering busily about her wide, slate-topped kitchen worktable, herding pots and pans across the range, spouting rapid-fire orders to Salt and Pepper, Butter Firkin and her Wooden Molds, and to Toast Rack on the open hearth. Douglas greeted them all with a cheery wave and an appreciative sniff as he went through the kitchen door to the washstand, just outside in the courtyard between the cottage and the underhill barns and workshop.

  The white porcelain ewer was filled with hot water, which sent clouds of steam into the winter-cold air. A fresh bar of soap rested in a slotted wooden soap stand near to hand. Clean, fluffy towels hung on bars under the washstand. Douglas’s Razor, Shaving Brush and Mug, and brown leather Strop jumped into action at his appearance. Razor ran rapidly and smoothly up and down Strop, honing a keen edge for the young Wizard’s fuzzy whiskers, while Brush jumped gleefully into Mug and whipped up a froth of fragrant lather.

  The Journeyman Wizard washed and shaved, combed and dried, pra
ncing from foot to foot on the chilly slates. He could have made them warm as toast at a magic word, but preferred to feel the tingle and pleasant pain of the cold on his bare toes.

  Across the wide courtyard, through the door of the Wizard’s workshop came a rumbling fuss. Firemaster Flarman Flowerstalk was having trouble with some experiment or other. A cloud of purple smoke poured through the open transom above the workshop’s wide door, scattering the doves who were perched there arguing good-naturedly over the remnants of their breakfast.

  The placid Ladies of the Byre paused to look back in bovine amusement. They were already on their way through the courtyard gate to the frost-whitened brookside meadow. Seven chickens paused a moment in their perpetual pecking, looked up in mild surprise, then went back to pursuing the last few insects of summer and spilled grains of wheat and barley in the cracks between the courtyard cobbles.

  “Ding dang! Double fudge and saltwater taffy! Grumbles and mumbles,” came the Wizard’s deep roar. “Drat.”

  Douglas grinned to himself. He quickly rinsed and carefully dried Razor before putting it in its leather traveling case along with Strop, rolled up tight, and Shaving Brush and a vial of fragrant, frothy liquid soap. He tied it all with an old leather thong.

  “Flagpant! Cryptomagler! Oh, Graddishr.” Flarman’s vexation came flying from the workshop. The words seemed meaningless bluster... or perhaps they were enchantment words of some arcane spell Douglas had not yet learned. He indulged his large Bump of Curiosity by skipping across the courtyard to look in at the workshop’s open door.

  Pyromancer Flarman Flowerstalk stood on a tall, three-legged stepladder, furiously wielding a broom with one hand and a feather duster with the other. Clouds of bright dust swirled about him in a shaft of sunlight slanting through the transom. He sneezed explosively.

  “Oh, Graddish! Kerplunkt! Oh, Darnnatr,” he growled, attacking four years’ accumulation of cobwebs and the condensates of thousands of smoky alchemical procedures.

  “What in World are you doing, Magister?” asked Douglas, laughing aloud in spite of himself at the sight.

  “Spring cleaning!” replied the Wizard, giving in to a powerful sneeze. He floated gently down from the ladder top. “Cobwebs and dust balls, trash under the table, soot over the mantel, ashes beneath the grate! Once I had an Apprentice I could order to do this sort of thing but now I’m all alone and have to do it for myself, despite the fact that I am by far the oldest, most powerful, most highly respected Pyromancer in ... in ... Valley, anyway.”

  “I could help you,” said Douglas, knowing this beloved blusterer very well, “or we could go in to break our fast and you could finish all this spring cleaning later—say next spring—although it should have been done months ago.”

  Things had been happening too fast and furiously ever since the Wizard and his Journeyman had gone off to subdue the Ice King, who had threatened to freeze World and enslave its various peoples. Flarman had been captured and taken to an Ice Palace on a glacier far to the north while Douglas had been lost at Sea, been rescued by a giant Sea Tortoise named Oval, and had fallen in love. Housekeeping had fallen by the wayside.

  Along with a powerful Water Adept and a host of Faerie warriors, Dwarfs, Near Immortals, Sprites, Sea creatures and birds, fishermen and sailors, they had overcome wicked Frigeon in a great Sea Battle, destroyed his dire enchantments—along with his Ice Palace—and rescued the Ice King’s captives, including Douglas’s own father.

  Like all momentous events, the Battle of Sea had been followed by a great many important things to be done, like the marvelous Homecoming Party at Wizards’ High late the last summer. Now, Douglas hoped, things were getting back to normal—whatever normal was for a Journeyman Pyromancer.

  “I choose breaking my fast anytime,” chuckled the old Fire Wizard, throwing the broom and the duster into the farthest corner of the workshop, where they got together to continue the cleaning without supervision. “And if this cleaning didn’t get done last spring, what makes you think I’ll do it next spring? No, I’ll do it after breakfast. After you leave, that is.”

  This last he said with a touch of sadness, for Douglas’s new journey promised to be a long, dangerous one. Flarman had once been content to be a solitary practitioner of Fire Magic, almost a hermit, but that was before Douglas had come to be his Apprentice. Soon they had grown to be the fastest of friends, boon companions.

  There had been nothing but company since they had helped put an end to the wickednesses of the Ice King.

  “This is the first time in months and months we’ve had the place to ourselves for a few days,” observed young Douglas as they ate griddle cakes with fresh-churned butter and maple syrup, flipped high and hot from Blue Kettle’s cast Iron Griddle. “The Homecoming Party and the visitors since we returned to the High...”

  “...and a Wedding scheduled for the next Midwinter’s Day after this one,” added Bronze Owl, who never hungered nor ate, being solid cast metal. He was the guardian of the front door to the cottage, and Douglas’s wise teacher in all matters of animal and fairy worlds. He came to the breakfast table just for the conversation.

  “And a Wedding, which is a tremendously long way off! Does anyone miss Myrn as much as I do?” wondered Douglas, wistfully. He stared mournfully at his latest forkful of pancake, then popped it into his mouth and sighed at the same time.

  “Hardly!” laughed Flarman, spearing his own fourth, fifth, and sixth of the fluffy, golden brown pecan pancakes from Griddle. “But then, none of the rest of us plan to marry the lass.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Owl, “but the place seems emptier without Myrn Manstar blithely about and around. She brings her own kind of sunshine, doesn’t she?”

  “I’d groan with agony,” said Douglas, “except it isn’t becoming for a Journeyman Wizard to display such emotion.”

  “Ha!” snorted Flarman. “Bawl your head off if you like! No one will notice!”

  “But even you must admit that Wizards’ High just isn’t the same without pretty Myrn,” said the Owl, “or is it my imagination?”

  “Not at all!” said Flarman. “Myrn Manstar, soon to be Brightglade, is already a part of me and mine, I’m happy to say. Has she written us this week yet, m’boy?”

  Douglas pulled a carefully rolled piece of parchment from his left sleeve—he had long ago taken to carrying important things in the deep, wide sleeves of his Wizard’s robe, as did his Master—and held it out to Flarman.

  “No, no!” said the Wizard, shaking his head vigorously. “Read the parts you want us to share. I know all about lovers’ letters.”

  Douglas was a bit startled at his revelation. He’d never imagined Flarman as a love-struck youngster.

  “Come to think of it, I don’t see why not,” he said, although Flarman thought he referred to reading the letter aloud.

  Douglas read (in part):

  “‘My Dearest Douglas,

  I have a few moments now to write, between day’s work and night’s sleep, both of which I anticipate with much joy, as they bring me closer to the things I am most eager for—and I hardly need tell you what those are! The lessons are hard but fascinating, and my Master says I am learning them well, and fast!

  “‘All goes smoothly for a Flowring Isle lass whose ambitions a scant year ago were simply to own and sail her very own fishing smack, get married, and have at least four or five sons and daughters to be pearl fishers after her.

  “‘At the moment I am just beginning to learn the making of tea. Yes, this is a very important aspect of Aquamancy, my Master tells me. The powers of prognostication come, he says, from the water. The tea leaves are only a catalyst. I actually managed, yesterday, to predict the exact hour of our daily rainstorm…no great feat when you know it comes each afternoon at the same hour.

  “‘But I don’t want to spend these precious few minutes with you talking shop. Suffice to say, I brew and pour very good teas, which would surprise my good mother!

  “
‘Living on Waterand is luxury compared to life on Flowring, although I often wish I were home, sailing on Father’s boat or diving for pearls, as I did before I met a certain young Fire Wizard, whom I miss even more than sailing…

  “‘Augurian just knocked on my door to tell me that the Mail Porpoise is about to leave for the Mainland, and can carry this letter to you although not as quickly as our old friend Deka, but the good Wraith is very busy these days. So I’ll close. My Master says to say that he is well and very busy, or he would bring me by for one of Blue Teakettle’s wonderful dinners.

  “‘As for me, if I had time I would pine for your touch and your smile…and Flarman’s and Owl’s and everyone’s there at the High. As it is, I must close and send with this all my love, husband-to-be! Write to me soon!

  “I am, then, yours... entirely! Myrn’”

  “I’ll be with Augurian in a week or so,” murmured the Wizard. “Have you answered her letter?”

  “I’ve written a short note only, telling her about my departure and reminding that I will probably not be able to write regularly for some time,” said Douglas, handing him another piece of parchment. “I expect you will keep her informed, too?”

  “As well as you keep me informed. She’d rather have it direct from you, of course. You can perhaps find some messengers where you’re going, to carry your letters to her—and to Augurian and me on Waterand, too. And there is always Deka the Wraith.”

  This friend, an ephemeral interdimensional Emanation, could carry written or memorized messages great distances in a wink.

  “I’ll save Deka for emergencies, as when I can’t stand being alone any more,” the Journeyman said softly, pushing away from the table. “It’s time I started.”