To Cast The First Spell (The Maestro Chronicles)

by John Buttrick

  C hapter Eight: An Unasked For Attachment

  Daniel glanced at the smoldering village below, watching people work by lantern, clearing debris and patching what could not be restored right away. He strengthened his resolve and gripped the reins, urging Sprinter up the trail. Wiseone hooted from within the darkened branches of a large pine. The old owl must have decided to broaden his hunting range. “That’s right; tell the ravens there’s a feast waiting for them.”

  Daniel peered into the dark forest and listened to the sounds of nocturnal life, a stark contrast to the bright and noisy battle recently fought. The natural order had returned to Tannakonna. He set a leisurely pace, what was the point in hurrying?

  A pink glow formed off the trail to the right. Pain struck hard and fast, affecting every nerve in Daniel’s body. He attempted to summon potential but the intense pain interrupted his concentration. His stomach cramped, causing him to double over and fall from the saddle, and then go into convulsions before hitting the ground. He struggled to remain conscious and to think of a counter spell but his brain refused to cooperate. Conflicting impulses flooded his mind, keeping his thoughts scattered until blessed darkness came with its offer of relief.

  He awoke with no idea of how long he had been out cold and feeling as if he had been wrestling with a bear. No wounds, only a lingering headache. Light flickered from a torch tied to a stalagmite, he was in a cave. A faint glow to his left indicated an opening of some sort, hopefully the outside world. To his right a dark tunnel led deeper, perhaps to the very heart of the mountain.

  A bald little man entered from the left and sat down. A large crooked nose, thin lips, and narrow eyebrows made the peculiar fellow look homely, although it was the sadistic smile that truly marred his visage. He had on a black silk cloak with gold braid on the sleeves and cuffs. A silver medallion circumscribed with a serpent gave notice to his guild affiliation. Two golden lightning bolts on his right shoulder and one on his left indicated his rank. Clearly, an experienced three-bolt Accomplished could over come an inexperienced six-bolt.

  Fear and anger surged through Daniel and he channeled the emotions into acceptance and a firm determination to remain calm. The Accomplished of the Serpent Guild obviously wanted something, Daniel was sure, or he would not be alive to even wonder about it.

  “What is your name?” the stranger asked, in a nasal whine.

  Daniel could not think of a reason to hold back the answer, so sat up slowly and looked the man in the eye. “Daniel Benhannon.”

  “Well, Daniel Benhannon, you have impressive abilities,” the man said, and then added, “judging by your age, I would say you have only recently been raised to the level of Accomplished.”

  The Aakacarn nodded his head affirmatively; seemingly please with his own powers of reasoning. His arrogance would cause him to make a mistake and hopefully provide an opportunity to escape. The lack of an aura around him meant no spells were at work, none that Daniel could sense. He could feel the knife sheathed to his belt, meaning his captor did not feel threatened by it. He wondered which would be more effective, a spell or a blade through the heart. He made up his mind, a spell it would be, but not deadly, one that could be focused quickly. How powerful is the Accomplished and how fast can he summon potential and strike? Daniel wished he had the answers before taking action, a failed attempt could prove fatal. The best plan would be to hit fast and hard.

  “I don’t believe a mere Talented could perform High Power spells of the type you sustained all those hours,” the little man said, and stopped to rub the side of his nose before going on with his speculations. “The Sun Guild must be teaching the deadly spells earlier these days. I was with them ten years before they taught me to throw fire and even then it wasn’t as spectacular as the way you did. Your method is the best I’ve seen. You burned hundreds of my yetis to ashes.”

  “I couldn’t think of a better way to stop them,” Daniel replied, trying hard not to smile, not wanting to provoke an attack.

  “Your solution proved effective enough. Most of those types of spells throw fire balls. I’ve never seen flames stream out like jets of water,” the Accomplished said, and then grimaced as if he was sharing the cave with a skunk. “Don’t try anything against me. I know more deadly spells than you can possibly imagine,” he said, in a most unfriendly tone. The threat would have had greater impact he had not whined.

  “Me?” Daniel asked, as if shocked by the very notion. “What chance would I have against a three-bolt Accomplished?” he added, doing his best to sound frightened. The act did not require much of a stretch from his true emotions. “Who are you?” he asked, since the man had not volunteered the information.

  “Cenni Quen, Accomplished of the Serpent Guild, second only to Balen Tamm, and follower of the great Maestro Tarin Conn,” the vain man replied with unwarranted pride.

  Daniel winced. The names were well known by every man, woman, and child in the world. All the worries over what to do and where to go were abruptly muted by the possibility his life would soon be over. He left home and fell straight into the hands of the Serpent Guild and it took a supreme amount of self control to keep from laughing hysterically.

  “You see humor,” Cenni Quen said, while rubbing his nose and shrugging his shoulders. “No matter, let us get to the business at hand,” he added and then stood up and began pacing the floor. “A High Power spell was cast from Tannakonna. The ripple affect spread out over a hundred spans and I assume you are the individual responsible. Tell me, what kind of spell was it?”

  Daniel was tempted to be stubborn and not reply, but answering the question could not make his situation any worse, not answering could have the opposite effect. Cenni Quen appeared to be the kind of person who enjoyed inflicting pain, a man without a conscience. A follower of Tarin Conn would not have any qualms about using torture to get a response.

  “I cast a memory spell. It seemed to have improved my memory as well as most everyone else in Bashierwood,” Daniel admitted, hoping to avoid another experience with the spell used to capture him.

  Cenni Quen sat down, scratched the cleft in his chin, and then frowned. “Memory spells are usually more selective and tend to fade quickly. I know of none capable of improving long term memory or, for that matter, last much beyond the original casting,” he said, and then paused as if for thought. “Why are you dressed as a mountaineer? Did another Accomplished help you with the casting?”

  Terroll Barnes could not have helped even if his life had depended on it. The memory spell had been nothing more than happenstance. “No,” Daniel answered cautiously, wondering if the Accomplished would believe him. “I worked the spell myself and as for my clothes, this is what I always wear.”

  It was difficult to determine if Cenni Quen believed a word of what he was told. He began rocking back and forth and humming an unusual Melody, summoning potential for a spell. The notes sounded off key and had almost no discernable pattern, the lack of which was memorable in and of itself. A pink glow formed around the stout little man.

  Daniel thought of a shield spell and played the Melody in his mind, but the attack came too fast. He was bathed in a bright pink light, creating an urge to sleep, and interfering with his ability to concentrate on his own spell. Longing for sleep, he yawned, and decided it was too much of a burden to stay awake, and fell asleep.

  He stood on a white marble floor in a royal court where light was provided by a diamond chandelier hanging from a mirrored ceiling. The grand fixture had no candles. Each precious stone radiated energy of its own. A plush crimson carpet lay two strides ahead leading up thirteen steps to a raised floor, and came to a stop before a crystal throne.

  A large man, wearing a blouse of purple silk with red horizontal stripes and white cuffs, was seated upon the sparkling chair with the poise of a king. A broad black belt studded with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires held up his violet pants, which were tucked into a pair of black shiny boots. His wavy hair was as dark as a raven’s
feathers. His rugged face was light brown, making him appear to be of Serinian origin. “Welcome to my realm,” he said, in a deep baritone, while gently stroking a neatly trimmed mustache. “I am Tarin Conn,”

  Daniel’s first impulse was to run, in any direction so long as it led elsewhere. He summoned all the courage he could muster and stood firm. He knew it was a dream but could not wake up.

  “Who are you?” Tarin Conn asked, staring intensely.

  Daniel strengthened his resolve, took a deep breath, and stared right back. “Daniel Benhannon,” he replied, trying to sound confident.

  The founder of the Serpent Guild did not respond right away, seemingly lost in contemplation. His black eyes reflected a keen and penetrating mind and gave the distinct feeling they could enable him to see into the very soul of whomever he chose to gaze upon. He blinked and licked his lips like a dog after devouring a choice morsel. “You are strong, unusual for one so young. A six-bolt Aakacarn is more than I ever hoped to recruit. Wait, I see more,” he said, and then paused, staring with those penetrating eyes. His lips stretched into a smile. “No, not an Aakacarn, you are an Aakasear,” he finished, clearly pleased by the discovery.

  “I’m not a recruit,” Daniel said, managing to keep his voice from quivering in spite of the fear threatening to overwhelm him, and at the same time wondering, what is an Aakasear?

  “Of course you aren’t, not yet anyway,” Tarin Conn said, and his smile vanished, leaving his face void of expression. “You remind me of my humble beginnings. I became a six-bolt Accomplished before the age of, never mind, suffice it to say, you have great potential.”

  Daniel decided the bad dream had gone on long enough, the Dark Maestro was imprisoned beneath Mount Kelgotha, and this was all the result of the spell Cenni Quen had thrown at him. “This is only a dream. I’ll wake up and find myself..,”

  “Yes, you are dreaming,” Tarin Conn interrupted. “You are going to awaken in the cave with Cenni Quen. Listen and learn quickly, I control every aspect. Follow me and be great. Follow me and the world will bow at your feet.”

  Daniel knew better, such talk was not fit to slop hogs with. The Accomplished was still trapped in the bowels of Kelgotha and therefore the promises were meaningless. Daniel decided it would be prudent, in present company, not to make that point, better to be civil. “What about Balen Tamm? He is the current Maestro of the Serpent Guild and I don‘t think he would like me very much.”

  Tarin Conn leaned forward, smiling shrewdly. “You are wise beyond your years and absolutely correct. Balen wouldn’t like you at all. It doesn’t matter, none of my servants like each other. The Maestro is a five-bolt Accomplished and the highest potential I’ve ever recruited. I knew him from birth and trained him from boyhood. He was not even a one bolt then, but highly skilled, and with my tutelage, has become the deadliest and most powerful spell caster in the waking world. You, however, will soon out strip Efferin Tames and possess the highest potential in the world. The only power superior to yours is mine.”

  Daniel needed time to figure a way to escape, keeping Tarin Conn talking was a good way to stall for time, and prevent the situation from going from bad to worse. “Ah, sir, would I have to challenge Balen Tamm?” Daniel asked, having no intention of ever doing so.

  The ancient Accomplished’s lips quirked into a smile, showing he was clearly pleased with the question. “I don’t recommend you challenge him. As I said, he is well trained. I can teach you as I taught him. You shall be second in my kingdom when I rise and Balen will be third.”

  “How can you be in my dreams? Pardon my bringing this up, you are held beneath Mount Kelgotha by an old spell cast by Della Lain,” Daniel said, continuing the effort to keep the Maestro talking and civil, not wanting to know first hand what evil the Accomplished was capable of.

  “I can enter the dreams of anyone who has been to my mountain,” Tarin Conn replied without hesitation.

  Daniel had never been out of Ducaun. “But, I’m on Tannakonna, hundreds of spans away.”

  Tarin Conn leaned back in his seat and laughed heartily, a disconcerting sound to say the least. “Ah, but you are on my mountain. The very cave you are sleeping in belongs to me. Cenni Quen brought you here.”

  Daniel froze in thought, fighting the fresh wave of panic stirring in his soul. The Maestro had to be lying. No one could travel hundreds of spans in what? How long had he been in the cave? Daniel did not know the answer but was troubled by more questions, how was he going to get back to Ducuan, and where was Sprinter?

  “Be calm. You are in my domain,” Tarin Conn said, as if that was supposed to be soothing. “Be faithful and I will teach you more than you could ever learn in Aakadon. I know more spells than all seven guilds combined. Serve me, worship me!” he said, with widening eyes that seemed to glaze over in dreams of glory.

  Daniel shook his head, no way would he serve the evil Accomplished and no Aakacarn deserved to be worshipped regardless of how many lightning bolts he or she possessed. “I don’t belong to any guild. I am a citizen of Ducaun and serve Queen Cleona. And, I only worship the Creator.”

  “You will be mine!” Tarin Conn shouted, civility was gone and his face was bright red.

  “I will be mine!” Daniel shouted right back, surprising even himself at the intensity in his voice. He gulped, becoming aware of the extreme danger he was in, and summoned the potential for a shield. He smiled as the familiar blue glow surrounded him.

  A brilliant white light flashed forth from the ancient Accomplished, changing the aristocratic monarch into a huge yeti, making him six cubits taller than the largest beast sent against Bashierwood. “Serve me!” he snarled, and then charged down the steps with razor sharp claws outstretched.

  Daniel awakened abruptly, screaming in terror. He sat up, wiping sweat from his brow and hearing the sound of laughter. His captor sat chortling like a hyena, providing the awaited opportunity. Daniel summoned the potential and quickly focused the sleep spell used against him by the foolish Aakacarn, who never should have hummed that spell out loud. Cenni Quen fell forward, striking the rock floor face first, possibly to be asleep for days.

  Daniel formed a shield and headed toward the faint light to his left. The tunnel grew brighter, which meant the entrance should not be much farther. Turning a corner, he stepped out into the sunlight, immediately took in his surroundings. Kelgotha loomed above, a giant rock in the middle of a desert. The only clouds floating over this wasteland were those hovering over the mountain peak.

  Sprinter was tethered to a stump and seemed to be in good condition. Cenni Quen must have thought Tarin Conn would be a more successful recruiter. The three-bolt Accomplished did far too much assuming for his own good, fortunately.

  Daniel untied the ashen stallion and patted him on the neck. “I’m glad to see you,” he said, in soothing tones.

  He mounted Sprinter and headed south, careful to keep a sharp eye out for followers of Tarin Conn. He sighed, knowing Kelgotha was in the kingdom of Ecoppia and over three hundred spans from Ducuan, guaranteeing a long and difficult journey. Since returning to Tannakonna was out of the question, he would have to find another mountain to live on.

  Chapter Nine: Maestro of the Zephyr Guild

  Terroll Barnes shook his head, yawning. An entire night in the saddle had not provided much in the way of rest, although it put him much closer to accomplishing his goals. Daniel’s ploy to get rid of the yetis apparently worked, seeing as not a one had been seen or heard in the area.

  Clouds drifting along the horizon were given an orange cast by the rising sun. Wings fluttered in the branches of tall trees where birds chirped and landed to rest momentarily before taking off again. The trail stretched on another hundred cubits up a steep hill and seemed to vanish into the distance. Behind, Tannakonna stood tall and mysterious with dark storm clouds at its peak. A large number of yetis in one place inevitably meant serious damage to the locale. The rain would surely make any repairs the mountain folk were eng
aged in more difficult but would hardly stop them. Terroll knew them to be a strong and resilient people.

  He smiled, thinking of the precious gift, the return of his repertoire. “I’m back,” he announced to the world.

  Dusty whinnied and continued forward. The old Battencayan bred gelding had kept a good pace through the night and even now seemed strong enough to trot until noon. From the top of the hill, the trail turned sharply to the right, a person less familiar with the path would likely charge up too quickly and be rewarded with the rather unpleasant experience of slamming into a stout pine. Terroll maneuvered the dapple without incident. The trail ahead of him broadened out enough for eight horses to ride abreast and curved to the east and continued on for another twenty spans before coming to an intersection. North led straight up to the town of Bollen, which was larger than most cities. The people there seemed to appreciate fine music. Heading due west would lead to Lake Sennaca and the city of Krellin, where musicians abound and the arrival of yet another performer generated little if any excitement among the population. The southern trail would eventually lead to the Gosian River, as does the west at a distance much farther away. The river flows from the north and turns east after swallowing Sennaca creek.

  Terroll reined Dusty to a stop at the intersection. His destination lay to the southwest. He urged the gelding down the southern trail, choosing to follow the Gosian into Zoltair. His plans were seven years in the making with every detail worked out. There would be no mistakes this time. Gerard DeCamp would rue the day he cast that accursed spell, justice would prevail, and the Zephyr Guild would have proper guidance under a new Maestro.