Impossible Castle (Guardian of the Realm Book 1)

by M. Gregg Roe

  Ferikellan found himself mesmerized, not by the woman’s lascivious appearance but by her strong and complex magical aura. Most spell-casters specialized in one type of magic, or at most two. (That was something that another spell-caster could read if they possessed sufficient skill.) Rosalind’s specialty was clearly spirit magic, but she also registered significantly in all six other types. He had sensed nothing like it before.

  “Can I use the other bedroom on this floor?” she pleaded earnestly. “I’ve got a lot of books and other things.”

  “Of course,” he replied, still disconcerted. “My assistant, Vurk, can help you get settled. He is a gworn, by the way.”

  Her shrug was nonchalant. “Yes, Audrey told me about him. I’ve met the one that lives in Rohoville.”

  He wondered if that was the one who had written out the Gray Potion’s instructions. “Is, um, Audrey still here?” He was rather miffed that he hadn’t been informed of Rosalind’s arrival in advance.

  “Audrey had to go,” she replied, smiling saucily. “She has a dinner date.”

  It was late in the afternoon, which meant that Vurk was probably busy cooking. “One moment,” he said. “I need to inform Vurk that there will be two for dinner.”

  “Okay. I’ll start looking around my room.” She turned and headed to her left.

  Getting through the hallway to the stairs was a challenge. Filling much of the space was a large wooden trunk, two huge canvas bags, and several bundles of books. Just how long was she planning to stay?

  He rushed down the stairs to the floor below and headed to the kitchen. From the aroma, Vurk was cooking a pork roast.

  “It’s not ready yet, boss,” Vurk called out, busily stirring the contents of a small pot. “Maybe half an hour.”

  Ferikellan drew himself up. “Our cleric has arrived. Rosalind will be staying on the upper floor. Perhaps you could help her unpack after dinner?”

  “Sure thing.” Vurk looked over and grinned. “Is she cute?”

  “Yes, for a half-elf.” He swiftly exited before the gworn could ask anything else.

  Back upstairs, he found that Rosalind had opened the trunk. But it was the stone ceiling that caught his attention. The entire surface was glowing. It was dark outside for the time of day, which probably meant that a storm was coming. “What spell is that?” he asked her, not believing what his magic sense was telling him.

  She frowned at him. “Illumination. What else? It can do more than just make a floating ball of light.”

  That was news to him. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  She gestured sharply with her right hand. “I figured it out myself. Most spells can do more than people think. You need to experiment.”

  Staring at the ceiling, it was as if a fog had lifted from his brain. He had been taught that spells could only be cast in a certain manner—everyone was. A few spells had minor variations. But this… It was a revelation. He held out his left hand palm up and stared at it. He needed to form a different image in his mind, and it took him a moment. “Illumination!” he finally said, and a small glowing orange cube appeared above his palm. He couldn’t suppress a smile of pride.

  “That’s impressive,” she remarked, walking over with a long glass bottle cradled in her small arms. “Most people really struggle at first. Maybe it’s because you’re a researcher.”

  “Perhaps.” Her praise made him unreasonably happy. He willed the spell to end, and the cube vanished. “Is that grape wine?” he asked, noting the color of the liquid.

  Her face lit up. “Yes. It’s from my temple.”

  “And which temple is that?” he inquired, stroking his beard.

  She looked off to the side briefly. “I didn’t introduce myself properly. Here.” She held out the bottle, and he carefully took it from her. Then she struck what she probably thought was a sexy pose, but just looked awkward. “I am Rosalind av Janika, Priestess of Kyran. My temple is located in Wineton. That’s west of Fog Lake, just south of the Valena River.”

  That explained the skimpy dress, but also made him uneasy. Kyran was the deity associated with fertility, whether it be of crops, livestock, or people. The god’s temples were rumored to be wild places, hotbeds of excessive drinking and uninhibited sex. The presence of a winery nearby made perfect sense.

  “Siljan’s Select,” he said, reading the label on the bottle. Below it was a simple drawing of a bunch of grapes, a symbol associated with Kyran.

  “Siljan is a senior priestess at the temple,” she explained. “Her parents rule the city of Rohoville.”

  “I see,” he said, neither understanding nor caring. He had never been to the place. “Well, it is an honor to have you here with us, Priestess Rosalind.”

  “I’ve always been interested in research,” she said earnestly. “But there just wasn’t much time for that sort of thing at the temple. Or proper facilities. When Audrey told me about this opportunity… It just wasn’t something I could pass up.”

  “Are you familiar with Tritown?” he inquired, wondering how she would react to all the ogres.

  “I’ve been here before,” she answered to his disappointment. “Our temple serves a wide region.”

  “Shall we head downstairs?” he suggested, nodding toward the stairs.

  “Yes. I was so busy packing that I missed lunch today.”

  During dinner, she listened attentively as he described the work he had done on Gray Potions. The questions she asked revealed a keen intellect and willingness to learn. Teaching her should prove to be an interesting experience.

  With each passing second, Ferikellan’s impatience grew. Just how much longer was she going to monopolize their shared bathroom? If only he had told her to stay in one of smaller rooms on the level below. Then Vurk would be the one waiting.

  He had been up till nearly midnight, repeatedly casting Illumination in different manners. It was disconcerting how easy it was to alter the spell’s behavior. Before Rosalind’s revelation, the only variation he knew for that spell was to create a single bright flash. That was apparently useful in either signaling someone or blinding an enemy, not that he had ever had cause to do either of those things.

  Further investigation into other spell variants was called for, but that would have to wait. It was also something he preferred to do when she wasn’t around.

  “Good morning,” she said, opening the door inward and beaming at him. She was wearing a light blue flannel robe and had her hair wrapped in a towel.

  “Good morning,” he returned, wrapped in his own robe and straining to remain polite. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did,” she said, sounding pleased with herself.

  His forced smile vanished as she walked away. Tomorrow he would arise earlier and make her wait. Once inside, he saw that the room was still in good order. At least she wasn’t a slob.

  Feeling much more alert after cleaning up, he went down to eat the breakfast he could already smell. It was a relief to find Rosalind dressed in a conservative fashion. Vurk soon delivered his food and cleared away her empty plate.

  “Tell me about your training while I eat,” he said to her, then picked up his spoon and started in on the bowl of oatmeal.

  “I didn’t find out that I was a spell-caster until I was already an adult,” she began, both looking and sounding embarrassed.

  “But how?” he asked after finishing swallowing. “You noticed nothing odd before that? Auras?”

  “I noticed how some people seemed to glow,” she confessed, “but I didn’t understand what I was seeing and was afraid to say anything. Spell-casters are a rarity in my family.”

  “I see,” he said, disconcerted. It made the magical potential he sensed from her even more impressive. She had missed out on years of training.

  “It was a woman named Almera that figured it out,” she continued as he resumed his meal. “I was pursuing her son at the time, but not for a good reason. Anyway, it was Almera’s father, Daragrim, that ended up being
my first teacher. He’s an elf, but older than you.”

  Ferikellan had heard of Daragrim but never met him. He wondered if Rosalind understood just how fortunate she had been to glom onto such a skilled spell-caster as her instructor. Perhaps he had been the one to encourage her to experiment with spell-casting variations. It made more sense than a novice stumbling upon it.

  “The next thing that happened was that Siljan persuaded me to join her temple. They were desperate for acolytes to train back then. It was a big change, because I had never lived anywhere other than the Witch’s City. And everyone there was a human.”

  “That bothered you?” he asked, now working on a thick slice of buttered bread.

  “I just wasn’t accustomed to it,” she said with a wistful look. “My parents are half-elves. Their parents are half-elves, and so on for generations. I was raised to believe that half-elves combine the best aspects of humans and elves, making them the superior race. But I no longer believe that.”

  “I should hope not,” he muttered darkly, then felt guilty as she averted her gaze.

  Even though he had never met one, he knew that there were elves that despised humans and considered half-elves to be abominations. But he had grown up in a city home to all three races. And really, so had she. He had never encountered such an odd belief before.

  “Does your family encourage matings between humans and elves?” he inquired, watching her face closely.

  She closed her eyes briefly with a pained look. “Yes, but I don’t anymore.”

  “How long have you known about Audrey?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  “Three days,” she complained, scowling as she ran one hand through her unbound hair. “I’ve known Audrey for years, but the only one at the temple who already knew about her being the Guardian was Siljan. I’ve been thinking about what Audrey told me of her powers. I think she’s a witch.”

  Startled, he put down the slice of bread he had just picked up. “Explain,” he implored.

  Rosalind blinked in surprise. “I forgot that you’ve probably never encountered one. I’ve met both the High Witch and her daughter. They have innate abilities that seem magical but don’t emanate magic. I’ve witnessed it personally.”

  “Just like Audrey,” he murmured, no longer hungry. He wasn’t about to admit that he had thought that witch was just a title.

  “Exactly,” she agreed, leaning forward and gesturing. “I need to do some research, but I’m pretty sure there were no witches here before Andoran’s Realm was created. I don’t think there are any outside, either.”

  The conclusion was obvious. “Andoran made them,” he breathed.

  “That’s my theory. I think they were the prototype for the Guardian. We know that he killed most of the witches when they became too powerful.”

  Ferikellan knew no such thing. His knowledge of the history of the Witch’s City was nearly nonexistent. That obviously needed to be remedied.

  “You finished, boss?” It was Vurk, standing next to the table and grinning toothily.

  “Yes,” he replied, then pushed back his chair. “Shall we adjourn to the laboratory?” he said to Rosalind, gesturing toward the door that opened onto the hallway.

  After thanking Vurk for the food, she followed him out.

  Who was she to question his expertise? He had been studying the issue for longer than she had been alive. It was time to put Rosalind in her place, to clarify that she was the apprentice and he the master.

  “Most magic is suppressed within the Gray Forest,” Ferikellan lectured, sitting comfortably behind his desk. “But not all. The Gray Potions function there, as does the spell I crafted.” He had spent half the morning telling her about his success. “There is also Audrey. Her powers function fully while inside.”

  “Audrey’s not exactly normal anymore,” she retorted in a tone that grated on his ears. Seated in front of his desk in the laboratory, her arms were folded and her eyes narrowed. “And we’re not talking about your spell. This is about your plan to activate a potion inside. I don’t think it will work.”

  “It will,” he countered, losing his patience. “And you will be there to witness it.”

  “We should try it on an animal first,” she insisted as her expression hardened. “Something like a rabbit or a squirrel.”

  Ferikellan clucked to himself as he adopted a smug expression. “And how will we know when the potion activates?” he asked scornfully. “Will the rabbit wiggle its little nose? I should also point out that Gray Potions may not even work on animals.” The instructions referenced only humans, elves, half-elves, and dwarves.

  “Birchbark has a spell that allows him to communicate with animals,” she shot back, seemingly unimpressed. “We can make a potion for an animal and try to send it inside.”

  He had forgotten about that. It was time to compromise. “Very well. Go speak with Birchbark about the possibility. If he agrees, we will obtain the required blood and formulate a potion tomorrow. It will be an excellent learning experience for you.”

  Rosalind sprang to her feet with an eager look. “It’s late afternoon, so I might end up eating dinner there. I haven’t seen them in ages.”

  Ferikellan sighed heavily after she had departed the room. Speaking with the woman for so long had been exhausting. He had never expected so many questions or so much skepticism. Why couldn’t Rosalind be like Vurk, simply doing as she was told and only asking necessary questions?

  After returning to his room, he stretched out on the bed and tried to relax. He hated to admit it, but she was correct. Testing on animals first was the wisest course. Well, even masters made the occasional mistake.

  The acrid fumes drove all four of them out into the hallway. “It’s never done that before,” Vurk remarked after closing the door. His voice sounded odd because he was still pinching his nostrils shut.

  Leaning against the opposite wall next to Rosalind, Ferikellan was utterly baffled. They had used blood from a Gray Forest rabbit along with blood from a local one that Birchbark had tamed. The result had been a bubbling black mass that gave off spurts of sickly purple gas. He had never smelled anything so foul.

  Birchbark began to speak, then coughed. “Maybe rabbit blood is just too different,” he suggested.

  “Or maybe we don’t know what we’re doing,” Rosalind snapped. “None of us are trained alchemists.”

  Ferikellan had studied briefly with one, but she had a point. “This may be why only humanoids were listed,” he observed. “We will just have to try with one of the elves that lives in the forest and pray for the best.”

  After a long silence, Rosalind said, “I agree. But we need to take our time. What was that?” she exclaimed, following a muffled thud from inside the laboratory.

  “I think that was the beaker exploding,” Vurk said. “And guess who has to clean it up?”

  Rosalind giggled. “I’ll help, but no one should go in there for a while.”

  “I will return our furry friend to the wild,” Birchbark said, also looking amused. “Let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

  “Thank you,” Ferikellan called out as the tall man strode toward the stairs.

  “You’ve never had trouble combining the blood before?” she asked, frowning.

  “No, and that was combining my blood with blood from a Gray Forest mouse.”

  “I don’t think my blood would work,” Vurk put in. “It’s blue.”

  “We should still try to make a Gray Potion for you,” Ferikellan told Rosalind. “We should all have them available when we conduct the test.”

  She nodded fervently. “I’ve never been inside the Gray Forest. I want to try it out in advance.”

  It was a reasonable request. “Then you will craft a potion for yourself tomorrow,” he told her. “Under my supervision.” He turned to address Vurk. “We will need more blood from a Gray Forest denizen. That will give you something to do while we wait for the laboratory to air out.”


  After rolling his eyes theatrically, Vurk headed for the stairs mumbling what were probably curses under his breath.

  “I’m going to take a walk,” Rosalind announced. “Do you want to join me?”

  It felt to Ferikellan like it might rain soon. “No, thank you,” he replied. “I believe I will take a nap.”

  But he never did fall asleep. Why had the blood reacted that way? It made no sense. He was still contemplating the matter when Vurk came to tell him that dinner was ready.

  [ 14 ]

  Parenting Issues

  Standing by the front door, Aliva tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for Romee to appear. The girl had taken longer than usual to eat breakfast, and now it was apparently taking her forever to get dressed. Or maybe to fix her hair. She had even inquired about the possibility of using makeup. That was problematic for someone whose classes sometimes involved working up a sweat.

  Overall, it was going well. Romee loved her classes and was making friends. She helped out around the house and did as she was told. Well, most of the time. The medication didn’t change the fact that Romee was a teenage girl, easily distracted by boys and sometimes rebellious.

  Worried that they would be late, Aliva made her way to what was now Romee’s room. The door was ajar, and the girl was sitting on her bed, staring blankly. Next to her was the canvas satchel she always carried to and from school.

  “I feel weird,” Romee said, speaking slowly. She blinked several times. “Everything’s blurry.”

  Had she come down with some type of malady? (Being half demon, Aliva never suffered from them.) Maybe that was why the girl had seemed sluggish during their meal.

  “My juice tasted funny,” Romee said, slurring the words and swaying. “Maybe it was bad.”

  The words were an icy dagger to Aliva’s heart. She had thought that Stanley told her he hadn’t yet put the medication in Romee’s juice, but maybe she had misheard. If that was the case, then Romee had consumed twice her usual dose. No wonder she was drowsy.