To Cast The First Spell (The Maestro Chronicles)

by John Buttrick

  “Sound the alarm!” Daniel shouted, and watched as Hough Bess rang the warning bell.

  Men rushed out of the buildings carrying knives, swords, axes, and long bows, running to the barricades and readying themselves for battle. The Talenteds did not seem to know what to do or where to go.

  “Follow me,” Daniel said, making a decision and heading towards the southern barricade. Tim notched an arrow and filed in behind, bringing up the rear, as if he did not fully trust the three Aakacarns.

  Daniel walked straight up to the crate and leaped on top to get a view of the field. The forest seemed dark and dangerous even in broad daylight. The closest trees were over a hundred strides away, fortunately, that distance would give a few extra moments to aim. Twenty archers stood by him ready to send up a volley. Men twice his age and more seemed eagerly awaiting his advice. “I want you Talenteds to stand up here where you can see the battle clearly. Don’t let the yetis get within thirty strides of this fortification. Work with the archers and let plenty of the beasts get within range of the volleys,” he said, and then glanced at the old trapper standing to his right. “Work with the Aakacarns.”

  “Sure, anything you say,” Darby Jack replied, enthusiastically.

  The Talenteds climbed to their positions with ease, apparently not strangers to physical exertion, a good thing too. The fact could have a direct bearing on whether or not they live to tell of the experience.

  A large group of yetis ran from the forest, screaming fiercely, making the skin crawl, and inspiring fear enough to cause most people to flee in terror. That is, if there had been a safe place to go. The Talenteds took up their instruments and performed the spell, Sherree taking the lead. Each of them began to glow, bathing the barricade in orange, violet, and amber hues. The archers stared wide-eyed at the lights, the High Power spell clearly within even their visual perception. They seemed to take courage from the display of raw power. Sherree focused the potential and sent a triple color beam into the charging yetis. The entire first row flew backward into the second, startling even the archers.

  “Launch volley!” Daniel shouted, and then watched the arrows fly into the air and strike twenty of the downed beasts. “Good, keep this up,” he said, and then leaped from the barricade with Tim landing next to him a moment later.

  Hough Bess made his way to the wall of crates. “Where do you want me?”

  The cries of the yetis seemed to be coming from every direction. Daniel hesitated, caught off guard by the mayor’s question, not expecting to be consulted. “Direct the eastern defense, I’ll take charge of the North,” he replied, making a snap decision.

  Hough acknowledged with a quick nod of the head and hurried into position, immediately giving instructions to his team.

  Daniel sprinted to the north end of the village, leaping onto the barricade as Chad Grening stepped aside to make room for him and Tim, who leaped up at the same time.

  Yetis were charging onto the field, closing the distance quickly. “Launch volley!” Daniel shouted.

  The mountaineers let fly at his command, raining a shower of arrows onto the shaggy beasts, striking with deadly accuracy. Tarin Conn had not been lying about sending a legion of yetis. The numbers were staggering. Even still, hundreds more streamed from the forest, making the first kills seem inconsequential.

  “Launch volley!” Daniel ordered, when the screaming horde came into range.

  The archers struck down an equal number of yetis, but did not make much of a dent in the over all size of the enemy forces. Daniel first thought to unleash his deadly arsenal of spells on the yetis, but changed his mind. Fight smart. The words echoed in his head, clearing his flawed thinking. He quickly cast a location spell and found the enemy Accomplisheds half a span up the north trail leading to where he once lived. He maintained that spell while making slight alterations in the Melody to summon the potential for another spell, trying out his theory of casting the location spell simultaneously with another Melody. Blue tendrils of light snaked from his fingers, through the trees and directly to his intended victims.

  His shot had partial success. He sensed only three living Accomplisheds, they must have cast a shield spell after seeing the first one drop dead. All three Aakacarns suddenly vanished, sending out ripples of a teleportation spell. “The cowards fled,” he grumbled, and then noticed how close the yetis were to the barricade and the archers sweating as they awaited his command. “Launch volley!” he shouted, and then cast a broader location spell and found the Accomplisheds had indeed left the mountain. His senses only detected the Talenteds maintaining the southern defense.

  Even with the enemy Aakacarns gone, the yetis were still a threat. As if to prove the fact, they charged on ferociously. Daniel summoned the potential for fire and sent a streak of flame across the field, engulfing scores of the foul beasts.

  Squads of yetis ran from the forest to die as the thrill of focusing such power washed through him. He unleashed the potential, bathing them in white hot flames, granting them the death they deserved. He gulped a full canteen of water and continued the slaughter, fighting until there was nothing but burning corpses in the smoldering field and no sign of life.

  A cheer went up around him from those he shared the barricade with, but for him the time of rejoicing had not come. He cast another spell and found the yetis were concentrating their attack from the east and west, being unable to gain against the spell casting on the north and south. Some of the beasts were in the village and creating havoc. The assault was not over it had only shifted. “Tim, you’re in charge. Hold the position,” Daniel said and then leaped from the wall of crates and hit the ground running.

  He had sensed fifteen yetis within the village, all would have to be disposed of. Three were attacking the inn. He summoned the death spell, drawing his potential, and sent blue light from his fingers, striking the beasts and dropping them instantly in their own tracks.

  Screams beyond hysteria led him to the stables where two yetis were fighting over Gloria Dockett’s severed arm. She now lay silent, probably in shock, on the ground in a pool of blood. Daniel struck both beasts dead and hurried over to help her.

  A yeti jumped from behind a corner of the building, landing on top of him. Its sharp claws ripped through the buckskin and into the flesh of his right shoulder. Pain racked his nervous system, but with the heat of battle came endurance. Ignoring the pain, he cast a wind spell and floated the protesting beast off the ground, wrapping it in bands of air far stronger than three finger width hemp. He slammed the yeti to the street, raised it, and slammed it again, then cast a fire spell and turned the white nightmare into a living torch. He wrapped it once again in bands of air, but this time tossed the fiery corpse out of the village. Burt Sutchen ran to Gloria, tied off the blood flow, grabbed the severed arm, and guided her to the Polkat.

  Daniel ran to the eastern barricade and found Hough shouting orders and shooting arrows with a vengeance. Six of his archers lay wounded alongside several dead yetis. The injured men were in no shape to help against the huge creatures now approaching the crates. The beasts were coming too fast; the mountaineers did not even have time to notch an arrow and take aim. He had to act quickly. The fire Melody played in his mind and with it the potential. He sent streaks of flame from both hands at the advancing forces, roasting them until the field was void of life and acrid smoke filled the air.

  Expressions of gratitude from Hough and the remaining archers were ignored; Daniel had no time for that. He took off running toward the western barricade, covering the distance quickly. He found seven archers dead. No doubt this was where the yetis had entered. His father gave an order and the surviving twenty-one defenders wearily sent up a volley.

  Daniel stepped through the smashed crates, over five yeti corpses and onto the field, facing the screaming horde. Flames shots from his hands and consumed every beast in sight. Thirst grew and the strength he had gained since casting the teleportation spell was draining fast. He fought on until
only smoke and charred remains were all that could be seen. The din of battle was subsiding and he sensed peace was forth coming. Wanting to be sure, he cast the location spell and sensed the legion had indeed withdrawn. Yetis were still in the forest, but none of them dared attempt to cross the field. He could not find a trace of the Accomplisheds or Condemneds, yet knew in his heart they would regroup and attack again soon.

  The members of the Serpent Guild seemed to have been taken by surprise by his assault on them. They had to know he could sense their location. Or, maybe they did not know spells could be combined to have duel results. After all, he had learned out of sheer desperation. The limited location spells Terroll had taught him could only locate one type of object at a time. Daniel’s spells were more advanced and adding the, Death, spell had been simplicity itself. The how and why were not important; results were all that mattered to him.

  He headed for the northern barricade without waiting for thanks from his father or the archers. His shoulder ached, healing it would be simple enough, but he wanted to check on Tim and the others first. People were walking about with bloody wounds and he intended to heal them all. The yeti had ripped half his shirt off with one swipe, leaving his flesh covered with blood and the pain becoming more intense by the moment. Suddenly, healing the shoulder first did not seem like a bad idea after all. He cast the healing spell and the wounds vanished without a trace.

  “We did it,” Tim said, striding forward with a grin. He stopped short, standing with his mouth wide open.

  Daniel glanced at his shoulder where three golden lightning bolts were plain to see. There had to be a spell for mending clothing. He knew one existed for cleaning and also knew plates could be mended. Why not clothing? He concentrated on the current need. Random notes in his head developed into a Melody. He used the new inspiration to summon the potential, and focused. The blue light emanated from his body and the buckskins became whole, laundered, and good as new.

  Tim blinked, shaking his head as if he had trouble believing his own eyes. “I never know what to expect from you anymore,” he said, and then swallowed. “Three bolts is strong, I think. Why am I surprised after all I’ve seen today?”

  Daniel felt guilty about keeping facts from a friend who had searched the woods and risked his life to find him, such withholding under the circumstances went against his nature. “You may not want to hear this or be around me after I tell you. What I say must be kept between you and me.”

  “Whatever you want to tell me can’t be worse than what I already know,” Tim replied, unblinking. “Go ahead; tell me, I’ll not repeat it.”

  Daniel scanned the area to be sure there was no one else close enough to see, and then opened his shirt briefly to expose his left shoulder.

  “Six,” Tim mouthed, before his jaw went slack, leaving his mouth wide open. He seemed to realize he was gawking and forced himself to stop.

  “Don’t even say it out loud. Now you know why Tarin Conn is so interested in me,” Daniel warned, not wanting the villagers to fear him more than they already did.

  The drummer stared at the ground until finally reaching some inward conclusion, and then looked up. “I thought this battle was over, but it isn’t. Tarin Conn isn’t going to give up on you.”

  Daniel glanced at the burning buildings and the bodies of people he had known all his life being carried away. He wanted to scream. More innocent folk were going to die because of him. “Orin is right; an Aakacarn in the village means trouble for everyone.”

  Tim’s face became hard, as if chiseled in stone. “We can’t go back to the way things were. The present is all we can work with. If you hadn’t come back, the village would have been destroyed and your parents would be among the ranks of the Condemned. That is a fact. Stop fretting about what you’ve become and learn to live with it.”

  Daniel stared up at the smoke filled sky and knew the words were true. He needed to accept his fate and get on with his life. Balen Tamm is his fleshly enemy, the corrupt tool used by Tarin Conn to afflict the world. Stop the Maestro of the Serpent Guild and you stop his master as well. The thought, though correct, did little to solve his current problem. None of the violence had been Daniel’s fault. He only wanted to be left alone, which did not seem to be a likely turn of events. “Thanks, I needed to hear that,” he said, having known the truth but needing to hear someone else say it.

  Tim’s stone face cracked a smile. “What are friends for?” he said, and then shifted his eyes as if looking for something. “Where is your guitarn I think we all could use some entertainment.”

  Daniel wiped perspiration from his brow. He had not given the instrument much thought, but was in no mood to play it anyway. “I left it strapped to Sprinter’s saddle. I’ll go get it later. We could be attacked again at any moment and besides, I’m tired and thirsty enough to drink the well dry.”

  “Come to think of it, I could use a drink about now,” Tim replied, and then gestured towards the inn.

  Chapter Sixteen: No Mere Potential

  Forty, fifty, or more hairy blood soaked carcasses lay atop each other, each group forming rows of grotesque mounds throughout the field. Each of the skilled hunters turned out to be excellent marksman and had placed their arrows accurately. Smoke and a sickly smell carried along by the west wind assaulted the olfactory nerves. Samuel lowered his trumpet and breathed a sigh of relief as the last volley sailed into the air and finished off the remaining yetis. He was proud to say not a single shaggy beast had come within ten strides of the barricade, even though the mountain spell caster had suggested thirty.

  Samuel, being on the verge of physical and mental exhaustion, found it difficult to build up the desire to brag about the great victory. His tongue felt like a thick wad of cotton and his body like a dry sponge eagerly seeking water. He glanced at his fellow Talenteds and noticed they appeared to feel similarly. “We did it, we saved the village,” he said, ending the statement with a dry cough.

  The Serinian wiped his bloodshot eyes and pointed to the archers. “Yes, along with them, an unbeatable team,” he added, over the cheering voices, the loudest of which belonging Darby Jack.

  Sherree turned away from the dead and dying yetis and stared towards the village and frowned. Samuel turned immediately and understood her reaction. Clumps of small fires burned in the sandy street while men and women busily tried to extinguish them. The bodies of villagers who had not survived the attack were being carried on make-shift stretchers to the livery. The doors of the Polkat stood wide open, admitting the many injured residents. It was obvious the yetis had entered the village.

  Tears formed in Sherree’s eyes, and not just because of the smoke. Her compassion was famous. The woman had healed every injured creature between here and Aakadon, although she showed no such concern for the yetis. “I must help them,” she said, and then leaped from the barricade, heading for the inn.

  “She’s right, we should do whatever we can for them,” Jerremy said, and then leaped down and followed after her.

  Perhaps the villagers would be less afraid of an Aakacarn now that they see how helpful one can be, Samuel thought, as he waved to the archers and hopped down from the wall of crates. He passed by several people, they greeted him with polite and respectful nods of the head. Attitudes seemed to be improving already. He enjoyed their quiet acceptance of his being among them, what a shame it had to come at such an awful cost.

  Structurally, the village had not suffered, looking much as it had when he first arrived. The western barricade was down and fire burned in the field beyond. Men struggled to bring the blaze under control. What started it in the first place was not readily apparent. He stopped at the inn and watched Jerremy and Sherree go inside. A movement to the east caught Samuel’s attention; wounded men were being escorted to the Polkat, for a moment he had feared the yetis were attacking again. Thankfully, the beasts were all dead. He glanced to the north and noticed the barricade had held. The east and west were obviously not so successful.
The defenses had been breached and yetis had entered the village and even still had not gained any great advantage, they certainly should have. Once inside, there should have been no stopping them.

  Samuel continued north, knowing the answers lay with the peculiar young man in charge of the barricade. Passing the livery, he caught a glimpse of bodies being covered over with sheets and any other material large enough to do the job. The wind spell had helped to maintain the southern front, but could not prevent those deaths. Perhaps a better spell could have saved more lives. He knew the Eagle Guild possessed such spells, the kind more suited to battle. He wiped his eyes, blaming the smoke for his tears, and walked on wonderingly. A spell to locate enemy positions would have been useful, if such a one existed. If so, the Eagle Guild would know. He intended to affiliate with them after graduation, if only to oppose the Serpent Guild directly and prevent innocent villagers from being hurt.

  His entire reason for coming to Bashierwood now stood less than twenty strides ahead talking to an archer. The young mountaineer could be considered handsome in a rugged sense of the word. Some women seemed to be attracted to that type. Of course, such things did not matter to an Aakacarn. The tall spell caster seemed on the brink of exhaustion, a condition not surprising to see. No mere Potential could do what he did. It took three highly trained Talenteds all of their strength to defend the south and this fellow somehow held the north on his own. Someone gave him training; there could be no other explanation.

  Samuel walked ahead slowly, thinking of his own past. Back when Talenteds happened across his wagon troupe and discovered his potential, he resented them, putting up quite a fight to stay home and avoid his destiny. In time, he learned better and all had worked out for the best. How could he make Daniel understand that being among his fellow Aakacarns is the only real choice? Like him, all wants and feelings aside, the mountaineer would have to accept his own destiny and go to Aakadon, willingly or not.