B00B15Z1P2 EBOK

by Kollar, Larry

  “We’ll be busy for a while,” Sura told Mik as a hired boat carried them across the Wide to their landing. “The needs of folk don’t go away for six weeks when their sorcerer does.”

  “At least I now have two apprentices to help with much of it,” said Bailar. “Much of what you two will learn, in the coming months, will address the tasks folk bring to us. Perhaps we’ll catch up on correspondence before the equinox.”

  The boatman hopped onto the landing and secured his craft. “Home at last,” Bailar continued. “We bring with us a little more knowledge. And, I hope, a little more wisdom.” He grinned. “Not to mention, some battle scars.”

  “You had better not bring home any more battle scars,” Sura growled. “Either one of you!”

  Mik laughed, slipping into Low Speech. “A right Striker you were. Took charge there in the tower, you did!”

  “Well, now I have to march my men up the riverbank, then start supper. Father, you’ll need to rest your hip once we finish the climb. Mik, that means you’ll have to come back down to get the rest of the baggage. Mind your arm, eh?” She shouldered a pack and took her place at Bailar’s side.

  “Yes, my love!” Mik chuckled, shouldered his own pack with his good arm, and stood on his mentor’s right.

  Sura pretended to scowl. “Is that any way to talk to your Striker?” she growled.

  “Yes, my love!” The three of them laughed. Together, they walked up the path.

  Epilogue

  “Relax,” said Sura, focusing on the ball floating before her. “You’re trying too hard.”

  “I swear,” said Mik, “I’m going to get this right.” His own ball, a little larger than his fist, twirled and darted this way and that.

  “Try using your hands to focus. Like this.” Sura cupped her hands under her floating ball.

  “I shouldn’t have to do that.”

  “Well, it can help at first. Other side of Necessity, right?”

  Mik took a few deep breaths and copied her pose. The ball slid and tilted, but not as much as before. “Better,” he said. “But maybe I’m not too good with Air magic. Back at the Conclave, Charn lifted that bed right off the floor and I couldn’t even see it tip!”

  Sura’s ball dropped into her cupped hands. “You know that it’s up to Father to say where your talents lie,” she said. “And Charn’s a year older than either of us. After a year of practice, you’ll be able to do that too. I’d bet on it.”

  “What would you bet?” Mik grinned and raised his eyebrows.

  “Whatever you’d want to give me. Because I’m pretty sure I’d win!”

  Mik’s ball popped into the air with his laughter; he took a step forward and caught it one-handed. “You’re right. Of course!”

  Her laughter echoed his own. “Maybe you need an incentive,” said said. “Pretend the ball is me. Lift me gently.”

  Mik laughed and caressed the ball, whispering to it, then hugged it tight.

  “Stop that!” she laughed, falling to the ground and crossing her legs. “Pretend I’m the ball, and you’re Lifting me out of a well. Focus, but don’t overdo it. If I wobble a little, I’ll be all right.”

  Mik nodded and held the ball in cupped hands. It rose—and this time, it hovered almost still before him, rocking gently. Then the ball dropped into his hands, and Sura herself rose from the ground.

  “Hey!” she protested. “What are—”

  Mik grinned as she floated to him, then leaned forward and kissed her before lowering her.

  Sura put her feet down. “I should…” then she Lifted Mik. She kissed him, then laughed and give him a push, letting him tumble to a gentle landing on his seat.

  “Apprentices!” Bailar called from the top of the low tower. “Show me what you have learned!”

  Mik picked up his ball and looked at Sura, then glanced up at their mentor. “Want to try this?”

  She raised her eyebrows, but smiled. “Why not?”

  They joined hands, then rose together, watching their mentor’s amused look as they approached. At last, they crested the parapet and touched down before him. They bowed, still holding hands.

  “Showy,” said Bailar. “But you gave more than requested, and that is always good. When it works, of course. Mik, you especially made a great deal of progress today.”

  “Thank you, sir, but Sura deserves the credit. She helped me find what I was doing wrong.”

  “I just helped you like you helped me with that candle-lighting exercise,” she protested.

  “When apprentices help each other, it helps the mentor even more!” Bailar laughed. “But now it’s time to see to more mundane duties, like preparing supper.”

  “I hope those fish taste as good as they look,” said Mik.

  “I’ve never bought bad fish at the market!” Sura poked him. “But we need to get them roasting.”

  “Fish, potatoes, and leeks,” said Mik. “With a good end-piece of bread. In Lacota, we called that a ‘lucky man’s supper’.”

  “Then we’re lucky!” Sura took his hand again. “Or we will be, once we get it ready.”

  Bailar watched them go, still smiling. Despite the complications, it was helpful to have two apprentices helping each other.

  “I’m curious,” said Bailar over supper. “Why do your folk call this a ‘lucky man’s supper’?”

  Mik laughed. “Because someone who brought both fish and leeks home from the river was thought to be lucky, I suppose.”

  “And if you weren’t lucky?” asked Sura.

  “Then it was whatever meat was for sale at the market, with potatoes. Everyone has a potato patch. Just like we do here!”

  Bailar and Sura laughed. “Well, your—” Bailar paused and frowned. “Odd. Someone just tripped the ward at the landing. A little late in the day for a visitor.” He stood. “Let us see who it is.”

  They left the table; Mik broke off a hunk of bread to eat on the way. He was hungry all the time these days.

  Their visitor, standing before the house, appeared to be a soldier of fortune. He wore no insignia, but carried a sword and wore a leather vest covered with overlapping bronze scales. A large grey medallion hung around his neck.

  “I am Tarnas Wizard-Slayer!” he shouted, as Mik opened the door. “Boy, I have business with your master!”

  “Announce me,” said Bailar from behind him, handing him his staff, “then step inside.”

  Mik nodded. “The Sorcerer of Exidy, Bailar the Blue!” He struck the step with the staff as he dropped a little pellet, then stepped back under cover of billowing smoke as his mentor took back the staff and stepped forward.

  “What is this?” Mik whispered, as he and Sura peeked around the door.

  “I don’t know,” Sura whispered back.

  “I am unaware of any quarrel I have with you,” Bailar told his visitor. “Have I offended you in some wise?”

  “I am sworn to destroy all wizardry!” Tarnas shouted from no more than fifteen feet away.

  “Then you have been misdirected,” Bailar explained. “I am a sorcerer, one who harnesses the elements. A wizard is one who attempts to divine the future by magical means… ‘seer’ is the more common word.”

  Tarnas scowled. “Mere words! Come out here, wizard, and meet me in mortal combat!”

  Bailar shrugged. “You have interrupted my supper, but very well. I presume you, who despises magic, have some magical protection? That amulet about your neck, perhaps?”

  Tarnas looked surprised for a moment, then fingered the medallion. “Those of us who hunt wizards must oft protect ourselves from their evil spells, no?”

  “He’s protected?” Sura gasped.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Mik whispered.

  “But what… I know. Out the back door. Hurry.” Sura took his hand and pulled him through the house.

  Bailar thumped his staff on the stoop and threw his other hand skyward. An ice dragon soared up and over the tower, then dived at Tarnas.

 
“Your illusions do not frighten me, wizard!” Tarnas stood, chest thrust forward, to meet it. The dragon obscured him from sight, then disappeared, leaving Tarnas standing.

  Bailar scowled and shouted, stretching his hand forward. Fire leaped from his palm, bathing the intruder.

  “Your magical fire does not burn me, wizard!” Tarnas stood whole and unsinged before him, although his clothing smoldered. He brushed away an ember.

  “Then you leave me no choice,” said Bailar. He drew a large dagger and waved his staff over it, chanting.

  “Your enchanted knife will not harm me, wizard!” Tarnas shouted, then looked to his left. “Nor will your apprentices with their orbs.”

  “What?” Bailar turned in time to see Sura’s wooden practice ball leap from her hand, hurtling toward Tarnas. Mik simply threw his. Both found their mark: Sura’s caught him in the temple; Mik’s twisted his jaw askew. Tarnas and the balls fell to the ground.

  Bailar made his cautious way down the steps and prodded the fallen intruder with his staff. “He’s alive,” he said, turning to his apprentices. “Which is not how I intended to leave him, but there will be fewer questions from Reeve Tanber this way.” He gave them a grim look. “You should not have interfered, though. You could have been killed!”

  “Us killed?” Mik gave him a wide-eyed look. “You were going to fight him? He’d have struck you down!”

  “Likely not.” Bailar shook his head. “The fool was so enamored of his amulet, he would have stood there as I stumbled up to him and let me stab him with what he thought was an enchanted dagger.

  “Sura, take my staff. See if you can use it to slip that amulet over his head. But don’t touch it—it will dampen your powers like Fierda’s bracer. Without it, he’s helpless. By the code of combat, his weapons and magic are now ours. Mik, fetch a rope, then go raise the distress banner. I don’t know if anyone will see it at this late hour, but if not? He’ll keep until morning. Once he’s secure, we can finish our lucky man’s supper.”

  “I got lucky with that throw,” Mik grinned.

  “And we are all lucky to be together,” said Bailar. “As long as we watch out for each other, who can stand against us?”

  Common Terms and Phrases

  All Points of the Compass—commonly used to refer to a multi-ethnic group. Some folk use it to describe a person whose ancestry is indeterminate.

  The All-Seeing Eye of Bula-Bula—a humorous reference to the Eyes of Byula, six scrying-stones said to be the eyes of an ancient idol (perhaps predating Camac That Was). Protectors in the farther reaches of Camac’s domain used them to communicate with the capital. The Eyes were lost in The Madness; if any have been recovered, their owners say not. The name became corrupted over time and is now a humorous way of saying someone is watching carefully.

  Bowgnoash—from the goblin-tongue. Its original meaning was “unfit to eat,” but was also used to describe one they wished to disown. Given what is known about dietary and social habits of goblins, anything or anyone considered bowgnoash would be extremely repulsive. Over time, it became a rude insult, with “rotten meat” the polite substitute.

  Commander—an officer in command of a battalion, 800–1000 soldiers.

  Folk—(Sorcerers) People not of a magical bent. (Folk) People seen and dealt with regularly.

  In the time of Camac that Was—the traditional beginning of a child’s story or tale.

  Lucky man’s supper—fish, leeks, potatoes. May refer to a “lucky man” bringing home both fish and leeks from the river, thus saving money that would have been spent at the market for food.

  Making the wind—idle chatter, equivalent to Earth’s “shooting the breeze.”

  Peace and harmony—a formal greeting. Through the early Age of Heroes, rivals or enemies used this greeting to offer a temporary truce. Later, it took on more common usage. The expected response is, And all peace unto you.

  Spread—the length between outstretched arms, typically 6 feet or 1.8 meters (or three to four cubits).

  Striker—the leader of a “strike,” 10–15 soldiers. Not always a formal rank.

  The tide comes in, the tide goes out—acknowledging that events are beyond one’s control. Similar to Earth’s “roll with the changes.”

  Wine fortifies the spine—a humorous description of drunken bravery.

  About the Author

  Larry Kollar lives in north Georgia, surrounded by kudzu, trees, and in-laws. His day job involves writing user manuals — some of which may have been fiction, but not by intent. He has had short fictional works published in the Hogglepot Journal, the Were-Traveler, and the Best of Friday Flash, Vol. 2 anthology. His first novel, White Pickups, is available at major eBook outlets. To keep up with his strange fiction, and even stranger reality:

  Blog: http://farmanor.blogspot.com/

  Twitter: FARfetched58

  Subscribe to Larry’s email list, “Fleet Commanders,” at http://eepurl.com/nDOP9 Members receive first peeks, plus exclusive content and discounts!

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  Copyright © 2013 Larry Kollar. All rights reserved.

  For republishing permission, please contact the author at lkollar@gmail.com.