The time had come to act, as I must forge a new wand, a more powerful one. And I would reap my rewards after so many years of waiting, for Magenta would return, and I would be a Lord once more.
Carrying the bough took me a little time for dark oak was aptly named, and not just for the colour, as needle-like splinters would bite into my hands with regularity. With my head pounding, and my eyes almost closed with the concentration of finding the right place to cut, I threw the branch from my cave in anger. Immediately, a ray of light shone through the clouds and lit up the perfect veins in the wood.
“Thank you! Thank you!” My sobs left wet spots on the wood as I caressed it in my hands, but I didn’t care, for she had shown me the way, and my marks would soon be in place. I lay down and slept like a dead man, as on that night no vile dreams swept through my head.
The dawn slowly appeared, as the moon was eaten by the new sun. Bright it shone, as if renewed of energy, and after a meagre breakfast of nuts and several bruised apples, I took out my sharp knife and made the first incision. Surprisingly, the oak wood proved soft, and with the veins showing brightly, I cut the outline of the wand in minutes. With dark brown coalescing with pale beige, it looked beautiful sitting in my hand, and all I had to do was polish it.
It took longer than I thought, but after five long days of scouring, rubbing, and oiling, and with the skin on my hands raw with the effort, I sat back in astonishment.
The wand shone like the North Star.
I wanted to caress my creation, to wave it in the air, but the wand was full of purpose, and whilst I could move it from one place to another, any thoughts of using it were quickly dashed. The wand would only serve one.
I waited patiently, yet received no message or the visit that I had been expecting. Autumn had long passed, and the first frosts had greeted me on awakening each morn. Every night felt colder than the last, as I wrapped more blankets around my deteriorating frame. I hadn’t given up, yet my body was slowing, as I could feel my life force gently ebbing away.
Time passed.
Hope dissipated like the dripping from the icicles when the snow slowly thawed for I was still alone. With rage consuming me, I needed to lash out, to release the pent-up energy, but all I heard was my screaming at a lonely mountain. Yet a part of my mind refused to give in, telling me to believe.
As far as I knew I was the oldest man alive, not that I saw folk that often, but when I did they stood and stared in astonishment unable to believe that any human could look so unwell and yet live. I guess that I did look older than time, for I had seen my reflection in a pail of cold water, and I wasn’t impressed with the sour and weathered face that greeted me. With so many lines on my face, I could barely see them, let alone try to count them.
Those few that were brave enough to climb so high were always young and seeking adventure. I think that each one had been dared to visit me, for all they wanted was to touch the huge lines on my face and ask questions. Yet, none of them stayed long, as perhaps my threats of turning them into a tree rat had something to do with their speedy departure.
I was named Alaric, which was derived from the words, all and leader, the two things that folk told me all those years ago that I had thrown away. Stupid people, for perversely I had both, living alone so high up in the mountains.
Huddling in my cave as the days shortened, I expected every day to be my last, as soon I would pass into another world. Yet, when the sun once again rose ever higher in the sky, I knew hope, for at least I would live through one more summer.
Outside, the wind died away, and all I could hear was the constant drips from the melting snow. The sounds were constant and I rejoiced, for this was the music of spring and soon the trees would bud, the first of the baby creatures would emerge from their hidden dens, and I would know hope once more. I waited until the sun had almost reached its zenith before venturing out, for I had fish to catch, snares to set, and fresh water to carry, and most of all, I needed the warmth of a bright sun on my face and back.
I was almost ready to sally forth from the mouth of my cave, when I heard a noise and shrank back, for the clang of metal on metal rang clear through the forest. With no desire to meet anyone with a sword, I hesitated, even though I believed that I was safe, for had not Magenta shown me an image of my body lying on a bed of flowers? The flames would consume me, and my journey to the afterlife would be one of pure joy.
My body violently shuddered with the thought of armed men violating my sanctuary, and without thinking, I said a short prayer to my goddess asking her to provide a cloak of invisibility.
I thought again of the few that dare visit each year, yet none had ever seen my cave, for they came in summer, and I had met them at my summer hut nearly a mile downhill.
This cave was a perfect place to hide in, for the huge boulder in front acted like a door, and even a frail man like me had to squeeze through a tiny gap.
Another sound outside broke my thoughts.
Whosoever made it was coming closer.
My body shook and I closed my eyes as I prayed harder.
Chapter 3
Only a complete fool would dare to peek out from a safe hiding place, and I was no fool, or so I thought. Yet my curiosity betrayed me, and I moved, hitting my head on a small spur of rock that I had meant to remove for years. I tried to stifle my groan, but the footsteps came ever closer, and I held my breath as my heart rate increased.
“Are you coming out or do I have to drag you from the cave?” He spoke like rolling thunder, and I felt my whole body shake.
“I’m old, useless, so go away and leave me to enjoy what time I have left.”
His laughter was instant, full of sarcasm and loud like his voice. “You? Old? Of course, you are, so move your arse.”
I did as I was bid and edged my way around the rock. He wore a leather jerkin over a linen shirt. Both looked in good condition, but dirt covered his trews, and I guessed he had frequently slipped on his climb. Slapping away a fly from his angular face, he looked at me and beyond, his green eyes missing nothing. I felt naked in his gaze and shuddered as if the cold of winter had returned.
“Who are you? Better still, go away.” I wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t take any notice.
“My name is unimportant, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“If I say please, will you leave?” I held my hands together.
“No! What a pigsty. Couldn’t you have dropped your trews farther from the entrance? I’ve seen less shit in a tavern.”
“Piss off?”
His laughter echoed off the rock face. “Tetchy aren’t we. Do you know why I’m here?”
“No! So go away.” With both hands sending waves of pain up my arms as I balled them into fists, I felt a wave of inevitability wash over me.
“I don’t think so, unless you want to feel the wrath of Magenta.”
I saw the smirk, and it really irritated me, but he had my full attention now. “What do you know about Magenta?”
“Got any ale?”
If only looks could kill? I shook my head and waited.
“Magenta told me you were a stubborn bastard, and now I know what she meant.”
I stayed quiet and waited.
“Okay, you win. I’ll tell you what I know, and you give me a bit of meat.”
With my brain wanting answers and desperate for the news of the goddess, I nodded, probably a bit too much, for I saw the gleam in his eyes.
“Magenta isn’t coming.” I swayed, my mind overcome with disappointment. He grabbed my arm to stop me from falling. “Hold on, it isn’t all bad news, old man.” With such a snarling edge to his voice, I didn’t believe him.
He led me into my cave and sat me around my fire. Gathering my last supply of dried wood, he carelessly threw it all on the weak flames which instantly burned brightly, giving off a heat to warm up my old bones. My face felt red, and my eyes dripped tears. Patiently, he waited.
“Thank you,” I said.
His words seemed well-rehearsed, condescending, but they didn’t stop my mind from whirling. I allowed the veil of concealment to slowly disappear, as I remembered who I was. Holding my head in both my hands did nothing to ease the torment trying to break my overwhelmed heart. With so much pain, the constant throbbing from my weary joints seemed insignificant now. I saw again my arms around Magenta, our bodies entwined as one, our lovemaking frantic and as endless as the waves hitting a golden beach of sand.
Time lay broken in the sand as I saw again my departure, the sobbing of a beautiful girl, and my arrogance of conquest.
And how could I forget her father, Lord Offa and his whip? Looking back, he was right to leave me a broken man, for was not I the one that seduced his virtuous daughter, and soon after quickly disappeared.
Spring had passed into summer before I could walk without a stick, and one finger on my left hand would always be missing. Magenta loved me more than I loved her, but she had vanished and I was alone.
Without the care of the Reverend Sisters in their abbey, all hope would have disappeared, and perhaps my life as well, for I had become lost in a tidal wave of self-pity and rage.
“Thinking back are you? So you should, for few men would survive the cruelty that was meted out, yet your callous behaviour to one so innocent was despicable, and I will never forgive you. I believe in fate and here you are, but remember this, for whilst I have given my word to take you back, I never promised that you wouldn’t be harmed. Too many suffered when Magenta lost her power and was forced to return to her home in the sky.”
I turned away, for I didn’t want him to see my tears. I believed in fate once, but she is a cruel mistress. How was I supposed to know that Magenta was a goddess in human form, and that her father, Lord Offa, a god? He had decided to play games with humans by pretending to be one of them. Taking his youngest daughter with him into my world would give her valuable experience in controlling those who worshipped the gods way above. Alas, for Magenta, she had met an untrustworthy maggot of a man, had fallen in love and willingly gave away her virginity, only for me to spurn her.
Lord Offa saw a distraught daughter. He asked questions, heard whispers, and although Magenta denied the existence of a human lover, he had his daughter followed.
“I was told that after your floggings, you were held captive for over a year. Is that true?”
His information was correct. Tossed out like an unwanted dog, I was left to scavenge for scraps in the old part of the town. The locals would kick me as I begged for food, the children would taunt me and throw pebbles, but Offa’s men were ordered to beat me as they passed. There was little I could do, as my right ankle was shackled to a long chain tied to a post. I ate, pissed and shit where I was, and within days folk held their noses as they passed. If a few kind women hadn’t fed me in the darkest hours, I would never have survived. They told me that I had aged ten years in those twelve months. Yet, looking back, who could blame my tormentors.
Finally, I lifted my chin, “Yes. I was.”
“Do you remember the wizened crone amongst those that fed you?”
I wanted to ask where he had received such information, but too shocked to answer, meekly nodded.
“And do you remember her words when you were finally released and banished.”
How could I forget? “She told me to drink from a water sack, to leave the town, to seek refuge in the mountains, and if I did, I would live long.” Her words had been etched in my brain, but whatever had been mixed with the water sent waves of energy through my body. And the higher I climbed the more water I drank and the fitter I became.
“I understand that Magenta’s disguise fooled everyone, including you.”
Pain coursed through my body and without thinking I clasped both hands to my heaving chest. The earth came to meet me, as I sat down hard. After so many years of wondering, I finally had the truth. All that time ago, my love had vowed that she would find me when the time was right. She had saved me, by sending me away to hide, and now she had sent a messenger to bring me back home.
My head was almost on my knees and biting my lower lip didn’t help. I rose up and spread my arms wide.
“If you can hear me, I am sorry, and if you can read my mind then you know that I speak truly.”
“I’m glad you understand, Lord.” His scorn was obvious.
“What happens now? Will I see her again?” My words tumbled out, as images of her beautiful face raced around and around inside my head.
“You are to journey with me, back to Vicorea where you once lived, and there, all your questions will be answered.”
“Has Magenta aged like me?” It was a stupid question, but I had to know whether we were both old. His eyes bored into mine, making me tremble, but I managed to stare back pleadingly. He snorted, crossed his arms and evaded the question.
“Many things have changed since you left, best you find out for yourself.”
He could see my furrowed brow, and surprisingly, decided to say a little more.
“Lord Offa has long since returned to the heavens to join Magenta. She has been waiting a long time to rejoin her people and claim back her rightful place here, but in her world, the time has passed as quickly as blinking an eye.”
“What about the wand?” I shouted.
“What wand, old man?”
“Nothing, it was probably lost.” I hastily added.
“Good! Gather your things and follow me, for your goddess awaits.”
Unseen by my tormentor, I caressingly placed the Wand Of Luminance at the bottom of an old sack and covered it with a stained cloak, before limping from my home of so many years.
Chapter 4
The sun emerged from behind the clouds on most days, as we travelled the three weeks to reach the cottages on the outside of Vicorea’s stone walls. Yet, even sitting on the back of an old grey mare made my body ache, as I was frozen stiff, but at least the end was in sight. I remembered the journey lasting months, when I had climbed up the mountain so many seasons ago, but that was on foot, the ground was frosty, and I had been leading a donkey with a constant desire to bite me.
Asking my capturer his name many times proved to be fruitless, as he always responded with the same answer. I’d begun to hate the name, Sir.
As we eventually walked into the Old Tavern adjacent to the city walls, I listened carefully for anyone to address my man with no name, but alas, those inside said nothing. My nose could smell strange, but wonderful cooking aromas from the kitchen, and soon a beef stew was placed before me, along with some fresh bread and a flagon of ale. I hesitated, my eyes unbelieving. Sir looked into my eyes, saw my discomfort, shrugged his shoulders and nodded. I picked up a battered spoon and gently placed a piece of well-cooked meat into my mouth. Salivating, I closed my eyes and gently moved the beef around and around. Scoffing the lot and wiping the bowl with the last piece of bread was easy, yet holding the food down was difficult. With all eyes watching me, I hesitated. Were they waiting for the inevitable, or were they simply curious about seeing a man who looked as if he was already dead, or soon would be?
If I were them, I’d be having the same thoughts, but I wasn’t going to keel over now with my Magenta so close. From the looks on their faces, I guess they were disappointed, especially as I downed the ale in one go, and without thinking, ordered another. My body relaxed and my brain switched off.
Sir told me the next morning that I’d been carried to bed and snored louder than anyone in the tavern. Why should I care? That was yesterday, and today, I felt better. Alas, my stomach didn’t agree, and I rushed outside. Yet even
my throat burning in the aftermath of the mess didn’t quell my determination.
“Too much, too soon, Lord.” His disdain never wavered, nor did his eyes. They were light blue and as cold as the frost in winter. I hated them and I hated him, but I was old and he was strong. Not for the first time did I wonder where his loyalties lay. I tried again.
“Who are you? Who sent you? I have a right to know, Sir.”
After he stopped laughing, Sir deemed it appropriate to put me in my place.
“You have no rights, you pathetic excuse for a man. And if you haven’t any rights, then you can’t expect answers, can you?”
“You’re a fiend, a devil, leave me alone.”
Holding his sides and displaying a wide grin, Sir looked like an idiot. It didn’t last.
“Better get used to it shitface. Someone is looking forward to meeting you, and it’s my job to deliver you in one piece.”
“What now?” I’d had enough of his stupid moniker.
“Follow me.”
I did as I was told and hobbled along like a pet dog following in his wake. The path was narrow and rock-strewn making me fall to the ground often. He cursed loudly every time he had to wait. The walls around Vicorea seemed to have grown, as they towered way above the tightly packed rows of dwellings, or perhaps my memory was sending the wrong images. Yet the mighty oak gates looked the same, although someone had tried to set them ablaze.
We passed through, and more of my buried memories came flooding back. I was Lord Arnasson, leader of the mighty Vicorea army and a poor magicker. Only Lord Offa could control me, and I hated him for his supremacy, yet my life would have been so different, if I’d have known about his godly powers. His human form may be dead, but I knew he’d be watching, and I shuddered as I wondered what surprises were in store.
“Who reigns now?” I couldn’t stop my words.
“You’ll soon find out. Keep walking.”
The courtyard was alive with so many people. There were merchants selling their wares and hundreds of buyers were milling around haggling over prices. Armed guards stood tall everywhere. There had only been a single tavern before, but that was gone, and now two three-storey, wooden buildings vied for business. The old forge looked much larger, and I could feel the heat from the blacksmith’s fire as we passed.
The Magical Book of Wands Page 6