Foundling Wizard

by James Eggebeen

  Another fireball washed over Lorit, touching his arm as it passed. The pain seared as if he’d placed it over the open campfire and held it there.

  He kept probing until he could sense the priest’s own life force.

  He reached for it, wrapping his power around it.

  He pulled.

  He felt the searing pain of another fireball strike him again. This time his shoulder screamed in pain, causing him to drop his shields in the distraction. He cringed in fear of the fireball that was certainly on its way as he grasped the injured shoulder.

  When nothing came, Lorit looked back at the priest. He was lying on the floor near the door. His chest heaved up and down in rhythm with a loud snorting sound that reminded Lorit of a swine.

  Lorit wanted to end the battle with the priest, but he was utterly drained. His only source of power came from Chihon. It was barely enough to maintain the binding spell on the boy.

  Lorit crawled over to the priest and took his staff. He used his uninjured hand to grasp it and hoist himself into a standing position. His arm and shoulder cried out in pain. He almost passed out from the agony. He had to struggle just to remain conscious.

  He hobbled over to the door and pulled. It came freely open. If it had been locked, Lorit didn’t think he had enough power to open it with magic.

  He stood in the doorway, considering his next move. He’d need more information, to make a proper assault on the temple. He looked at the boy lying on the bundle of coats and blankets. He reached out, and drawing heavily on Chihon, he released the binding enough to allow the boy to wake and stand.

  “Bring me a coat, boy,” he commanded. “We’re getting out of here.”

  He could feel Kaler resisting, but he complied. Lorit donned a worn-out coat that would cover the burns on his arm and shoulder. As the rough cloth passed over the raw wounds, the pain rose up, threatening to overcome him again.

  He rested against the staff and waited for it to pass. Finally, able to stand straight, he motioned to Kaler. “Follow me and don’t make a sound or signal anyone,” he commanded. He reinforced it with a weak burst of power.

  Lorit worried that he might pass out or be entirely drained before they could get back to the inn. He hobbled down the hallway, searching for the door that should take him to the alley behind the temple. He wanted to avoid the main room and any other priests or laypersons he might encounter.

  They reached the door and pushed it open. As Lorit stepped into the early morning sun, his face flared in pain. He lifted his hand to shield it from the burning sunlight and hobbled off to find the inn. He hoped Rotiaqua or Chihon could do something to help soothe his burns.

  Occasionally, he looked over his shoulder to see Kaler following close behind him.

  As Lorit reached for the door, it swung open. Chihon stood before him, looking him over. She looked worried and relieved both at the same time, if that were possible.

  “Anywhere it doesn’t hurt?” she asked him.

  “Not really,” Lorit answered.

  Chihon carefully grabbed his uninjured arm and helped him to the chair. Rotiaqua was seated on the bed, her pack open and waiting.

  “How did you know?” Lorit asked the sorceress.

  Rotiaqua inclined her head to Chihon. “She came to get me as soon as she knew you survived. Let’s get you out of those rags.”

  Chihon pulled out her knife and carefully cut away Lorit’s coat and shirt. She dropped the remnants on the floor as she cut them free. “You won’t be wanting these any longer,” she said.

  As she pulled the cloth away from the burned area on his arm and shoulder, Lorit could smell the faint smell of his own charred flesh. It made his stomach turn. He gagged, barely able to hold it in.

  “I’m almost done,” Chihon said. “Just a little more.” She finished cutting away his clothes and gathered the remnants up into a pile, which she shoved toward the fireplace.

  Chihon returned with a bucket of water that had been warming over the fire. She set it on the table and dipped a clean white rag into it. She gently patted the skin on his injured shoulder and arm.

  Lorit winced at every touch.

  “Does it hurt that much?” Chihon asked.

  “Like the fire is still there,” Lorit said.

  “I can put you to sleep for this part,” Rotiaqua said. “That is, if you want me to.”

  “No. I need to tell you what happened.”

  “We can see what happened,” Chihon said. She held the cloth up in her hand to show him the blood dripping into the bucket.

  “I got into the temple and found Kaler over there. I thought he was a captive, but he tried to cast a spell on me, so I bound him. Then the priest from the park came in,” Lorit explained. “It was Vorathorm,” he added.

  “The High Priest?” Chihon asked. She had resumed her gentle dabbing of the raw, red skin on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” Lorit said. “He gloated about killing Onolt! He said he was going to describe it in detail, once he had me on his table.” He winced as Chihon continued her dabbing.

  “What did you do?” Rotiaqua said. She sat on the bed, watching Kaler as he stood silently in the corner.

  “He threw fireballs at me, just like before. I pierced his shield and went looking for a weakness. I found a thread that connected him to the temple. It was a different color from the power that he carries around him, so I touched it.

  “He hit me with another fireball right about then, and I collapsed. When I woke up, he was sleeping soundly on the floor, so I grabbed Kaler and ran,” Lorit explained.

  Chihon placed her hand on Lorit’s back and said, “Calm down. It’s over now.”

  “What do you mean, it’s over now?”

  “Do you mean to continue this?” Chihon asked. She pulled back, looking at him questioningly. “We can’t defeat them, they’re too strong. We’ve seen that twice already.”

  “I will defeat him,” Lorit said. “He killed my sister and my mother.” Lorit looked at Rotiaqua. “We have to find a way to defeat him. If not, he’s just going to keep on killing.”

  “You have tested him twice and found him your superior. What will the next contest bring?” the sorceress asked.

  “I don’t know, that’s why I brought him,” Lorit indicated Kaler. “He was not captured by them. He was one of them.”

  “What do you plan to do?” Rotiaqua asked.

  “I plan to get answers,” Lorit said. He pushed aside Chihon’s ministrations and turned to Kaler.

  “Sit down, boy,” he said.

  Kaler folded his legs beneath him and sank to the floor.

  Lorit struggled to lower himself to sit on the bedroll in front of Kaler. He looked the boy over carefully for any signs of danger or a trap. If the priest had used him as bait, he would have no problem using him as a weapon too.

  Finding nothing, Lorit loosened the bonds that held the boy. He released him just enough to permit him to speak.

  “Why did you attack me?” Lorit asked him.

  “You’re a traitor,” Kaler spat at him.

  “What do you know of the temple and their plans? Why are they after me? Why did they kill my sister?” he demanded.

  “You’re a traitor,” Kaler spat again.

  Lorit looked up at Chihon, who was watching him intently.

  “You’re too weak to do anything yet,” she said. “Let’s get you patched up. You can try again after you’ve rested.”

  Rotiaqua helped Lorit up and onto the bed. His skin was raw, blistered, and painful. He winced at each movement as she gently pushed him down.

  “Relax a while,” the sorceress said. “Let me heal you, at least enough so you can get comfortable.”

  Rotiaqua passed her staff over Lorit several times. She mumbled something under her breath that Lorit didn’t catch. The pain in his arm and shoulder quieted down as she did. It was now the level of severe sunburn and no longer as painful as if he’d just been brushed by the flames.

  He
drifted off to sleep, listening to her singsong voice repeating the spells that drew the pain from his skin.

  Lorit woke well after dawn. He came awake with a start to find Chihon sitting in the chair, reading from her spell book. Kaler was crouched in the corner, silently looking off into space.

  Lorit moved his arm and shoulder. It still stung, but the worst of the pain was gone. He reached up and touched the skin to find it healed with only a few scars to remind him of the conflict.

  “I brought you a new shirt and food,” Chihon said. He stood up, pushing the chair out from the table. A plate of breads, cheese, and cut meats sat on the table, along with a steaming teapot and a large mug of milk.

  “Come, eat something,” she said. “You were exhausted.”

  “Did I sleep late?” Lorit asked.

  “A little,” she said. “You slept for three days.” She helped him slide the chair under the table.

  Lorit was starving and tore into the food.

  “Slow down. You don’t want to make yourself sick,” Chihon said, laughing.

  “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week,” Lorit said.

  “You drained yourself almost dry,” she said. “Me, too,” she added, sitting next to him and picking at the plate.

  “Why do you look so fresh, then?” he asked, looking her over. She looked bright and cheerful.

  “I’m just glad you’re awake,” she said. “That, and I’ve been getting regular meals, while you lay there recovering. I was almost back to normal after the first day.

  “Rotiaqua says it may take a little while longer for you,” Chihon explained. “She says, with your physical injuries, you’ll still have a few days left to heal.”

  “Are we safe here? Aren’t you worried that the priests will come after us again?” he asked, looking around the room for signs of the priests. “Why haven’t they come looking for us?”

  “Rotiaqua says we’re well shielded this time,” Chihon said. “We’re quite safe. If that priest took anywhere as much damage as you did, he probably needs to regain his strength before another battle.”

  “How about him?” Lorit asked, indicating Kaler, who was sitting quietly in the corner.

  “He’s had nothing to say, even when we released him long enough to let him eat or drink.

  Let me eat and regain my strength. Then we can have a little chat.”

  He finished everything on the plate and drank down both the milk and the strong tea. After letting it settle, Lorit said, “Let’s have a chat with our friend, shall we?”

  Lorit lowered himself to the floor once again. He used his staff to help him sit in front of the boy. He released the bonds slightly, to allow Kaler to focus his eyes and wake up.

  “Why did they kill my sister?” he demanded.

  Kaler drew in a breath to spit at Lorit, as he had in their last encounter. Lorit raised his hand at the boy, who started to choke on his own saliva. He coughed until Lorit thought he was going to turn blue. He lowered his hand and released his hold on the boy.

  “You want to talk now?” he asked.

  “You are a...” he started to say. Lorit raised his hand once more, and the boy stopped mid-sentence.

  “You have something to say?” Lorit asked.

  “Not to you!” Kaler spat.

  Lorit raised his staff and passed it in between them. He remembered the spell the priest had used on him long ago, when he was under their interrogation. Kaler stiffened and thrashed against the bonds in pain.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Lorit said. He watched as the boy grimaced in pain, struggling, just as he’d done.

  Kaler passed out several times from the pain before Lorit was able to make any headway at all.

  “Why are the priests after me and my family?” he demanded.

  “They think you’re special. Your sister, too,” he said, breathing hard, gasping for air between waves of pain.

  “Why do they think I am special? What did I do?”

  “It’s not what you did,” he said around clenched teeth. “It’s what you may do.”

  “May do?” Lorit asked. He shook his staff, rattling the pain that enveloped the boy, who screamed in agony.

  “They fear that you may become a powerful wizard and bring about the ruin of the temple.”

  “Why do they believe this?” Lorit demanded. He leaned in to get a closer look at the boy’s face as it contorted in pain.

  “There’s a prophecy,” he said, “in the temple, in Quineshua. It speaks of you and a girl.”

  Kaler looked up at Chihon. “His sister,” he sneered, “not you.”

  “They’ve defeated the prophecy by killing the girl. Now you won’t pair with her and the temple is safe.”

  “How can I take down Vorathorm?” Lorit asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kaler said. “They didn’t share anything like that with me.”

  As Lorit relaxed the pain he held over the boy, Kaler slumped visibly. He watched Lorit with eyes filled with pain and hatred.

  “What else did they say about me?” Lorit asked.

  “They say you can break a man’s soul.”

  Lorit could see the boy preparing once again to spit on him. He reached out, put a shield around himself, and probed the boy as he’d done with the priest. He found a slight trace of a connection between the boy and the temple. It was a dark blue thread extending from him straight down into the ground. He reached out and touched it.

  The boy sat up and screamed in pain louder than he’d done under any of Lorit’s torture.

  Lorit felt the boy’s power surge as he touched the thread. It would have been so easy to absorb it, to add it to his own. He played with the boy’s energy, molding and directing it, shaping it and twisting it.

  “Lorit, no!” he heard Chihon shout.

  He released the boy’s power and reached once again for the thread. This time he plucked it and quickly severed it.

  The power around the boy collapsed inward upon him. It sparkled and tightened until the boy vanished in a bright flash of light.

  “What did you do?” Chihon asked.

  “I didn’t take his power,” Lorit said argumentatively.

  “I could see that. You collapsed his power in on him until it destroyed him. Where did you learn that?”

  “I just sort of figured it out.”

  “Did you mean to kill him?” she demanded.

  “No,” Lorit said. “I didn’t know what was going to happen. Not for sure.”

  Chapter 21

  Lorit waited a few more days until his strength had returned fully. His shoulder and arm still harbored a twinge when he moved just the wrong way, but he was back to his usual self. He felt ready to take on the temple, so he called a council of war.

  Rotiaqua and Chihon were already seated when Lorit entered the dining room for the noon meal. He pulled out the bench across from them and sat.

  “Where’s Chedel?” he asked.

  “He’s off on errands,” Rotiaqua said. “He’s tending to the horses and then running down to the market to bring me some ingredients for your potion.”

  Lorit rubbed his shoulder at the thought. “I’m feeling fine now. I think it’s time to start planning our assault,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially.

  “Are you sure you’re well enough?” the sorceress asked. “You haven’t had much of a rest.”

  “I’m sure I’m ready,” Lorit said.

  The serving girl arrived with three mugs of ale and a platter of roast fowl. She unstacked the plates and handed an empty plate to each of them.

  “Will there be anything else?” she asked.

  “I think that will be all for now,” Rotiaqua said. She reached into her pack and pulled out a couple of coppers that she pressed into the girl’s hand. “Come back later and we can talk about that custard,” she said with a wink.

  “What are you planning?” Rotiaqua asked Lorit. She carefully carved a slice from the fowl and placed it on her plate. She selected a few
potatoes, nestled around the bird, and herded them onto her plate.

  “I think I want to enter by the side door and see if I can find Vorathorm. If I can catch him off guard, I may be able to penetrate his shields and do to him what I did to Kaler,” he explained. Lorit served himself a slice of the fowl and potatoes after Chihon was finished.

  “I think I was close to that last time, but I was just too exhausted,” he added.

  “Battles between wizards are short-lived affairs,” Rotiaqua said. “In most battles, the priests are not able to absorb the power from their opponent. Their opponent is usually drained in the fight before they can overcome them.”

  “I’m not trying to take his power. I didn’t seem to drain him too much either time,” Lorit said. “He must have powerful reserves, or else he’s drawing from somewhere else.”

  “He may be drawing power reserves straight from the temple. Priests seldom venture far from their temples,” the sorceress explained.

  “How do we defeat him without using more power than he has?” Lorit asked. He swirled one of the potatoes around his plate, creating a wave of gravy before he popped it into his mouth and looked at Rotiaqua.

  “I don’t know how you’re going to defeat him. I just know you must, and you must do it without taking his power into yourself.”

  They debated while they ate, weighing the merits of different approaches until Lorit had the beginnings of a plan that he thought would work. He needed to make a foray into the temple and find a lower level priest to test his theory. He wasn’t ready to take on Vorathorm until he was sure he had a strategy that would work.

  Just as they were reaching the end of the meal, Chedel came skipping into the dining room. He plopped himself onto the bench next to Lorit and grabbed at the platter that held the remnants of their meal. He flipped the cleaned carcass over and stabbed at the back of the bird picking off meat here and there that they’d passed over or missed.

  “This is delicious,” Chedel said around a mouthful of fowl and potato. “So, what did we decide while I was out?” he asked, looking at each of them in turn.