The unsuspecting mage ms-1

by Brian S. Pratt

  The rains of the night before have swollen the stream. Its water rushes pell-mell over rocks in its bed. More berry bushes provide a morning snack as well as sufficient quantities to resupply his pack. His strength slowly returns throughout the morning and by noon, the headache and shaking go away.

  He continues following the streambed. Sometime after noon, motion from downstream brings him to an abrupt halt. A shiver courses down his spine upon spying a wolf standing amidst the trees, watching him. He bends over and picks up several stones, placing all but one in his pocket. Looking back toward where the wolf had stood, he readies to throw the stone, but the wolf is gone.

  For the next several hours, wolves can be seen amidst the trees, pacing him along his side of the stream. Every time he pauses to try and take one out with a stone as he had the night before, the wolves melt back into the forest. Their intermittent howls were a force of fear as he quickened his pace through the forest.

  By this time, the stream has swollen to twice its size; several tributaries having joined with it. The stream was becoming more of a river, having a width in places exceeding twenty feet.

  James encounters another large tributary cutting across his path. Standing upon a grassy knoll on the far side, a wolf stands motionless as it stares him down. Reaching into his pocket, James takes a stone and cocks his arm back to throw. Forming a visualization of the stone striking the wolf with great force, he repeats the incantation used back at the cave and throws.

  Before the stone flies from his hand, the wolf lets out with a spine-chilling howl. Several answering howls erupt from out of the trees all around him and break his concentration resulting in the ruination of the spell. Without the power of magic behind it, the stone flies wide and lands in a bush several feet wide of the mark. Wolves burst from behind bushes and trees.

  James turns and flees toward the river. Their growls and snarls give swift speed to his flight. The wolves close fast and his flight is cut short as he is forced to turn toward them, spear held out before him. Swinging the weapon to and fro, he is momentarily successful at keeping the wolves at bay.

  “Back!” he shouts, fear tingeing his voice with hysteria.

  Doing his best to ward off their attacks, he backs up slowly until his feet enter the coolness of the water’s edge. A wolf darts in and only a quick thrust of the spear prevented the animal from sinking its jaws into his leg. Over a dozen wolves are arrayed before him along the shoreline. For the moment they appear content to merely watch as he backs farther into the river. The coldness of the water and the terror of being torn apart keep him from being able to formulate any spells.

  Two steps, three, he slowly puts distance between himself and the wolves. At step number four, as if by some unseen signal, the wolves rush him en masse. He lays about with his spear, using it like a quarterstaff. For a time he manages to strike the onrushing wolves with the broadside of the spear, even managing to stab a few; but they are beginning to wear him down. He still has not fully recovered from the night before.

  With his footing becoming treacherous as his legs slowly lose feeling due to the coldness of the water, he slips on a loose stone under the water. Having to thrust his spear into the riverbed to remain upright he’s unable to maintain his defense.

  Seeing its chance, one wolf rushes in and nips him on the leg, tearing a three inch long gash along just below the knee. Blood flows freely from the wound and the pain is intense. James is certain this will soon be his end.

  He regains his balance and thrusts with his spear at the wolf that bit him, driving it back. His swings become ever increasingly slower and less powerful. Never having been what one would call athletic, his arms quickly lose the endurance to continue wielding the heavy spear.

  A large wolf leaps for his throat and James brings the spear around just in time, piercing the wolf’s chest. Though dead, the wolf’s momentum carries it forward and slams square into James, knocking him backward into the water. The wolf’s dead weight settles upon him and nearly prevents him from raising his head above the water.

  In panicked desperation, he struggles to remove the wolf but it’s far too heavy for him to move in his weakened state. Three more wolves enter the water and move in to finish it. Barely able to keep his head above water, James struggles to remove his spear from the dead wolf. As the spear comes free, a growl draws his attention to a wolf less than a foot away. Even as he swings the spear point toward the wolf, he knows it will be too late. The wolf leaps…

  Thwock!

  An arrow takes the wolf in the side. Mortally wounded, the beast thrashes in the water.

  Looking over his shoulder, James stares across the stream in disbelief to where a man stands with bow in hand. Another arrow grazes the side of a second wolf that had been coming in for the attack.

  “Come on. Move! Stay there and you’re going to die.”

  With the prospect of surviving this ordeal once again a reality, renewed strength fills his limbs. Taking hold of the wolf pressing him into the water, he gives out with a mighty groan and the carcass comes free. As the dead animal sinks beneath the surface, James uses the spear to aid in gaining his feet.

  A wolf’s painful cry heralds another arrow having found its mark as he wades though the water toward the far side. His wounded leg only makes traversing the slippery, rock-filled bed more difficult. Though progress was slow, James reaches the shallows just as his leg gives out altogether.

  Letting fly another arrow, the man puts an arm under James’ shoulder and helps walk him from the river.

  James gives his benefactor a weak “Thanks” before collapsing into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Three

  Disoriented upon awakening, his first thought is that he’s laying abed back in his room after coming out of a particularly vivid dream. Unfortunately, reality sets in and memory returns; and so too does the pain. It wasn’t a dream.

  The room bears little resemblance to the one in which he spent the majority of his time the last few years. The walls were fashioned of lengths of timber set horizontally such as one might find in a log cabin. There is very little in the way of furnishings, merely the bed, a night stand and a chest with clothes folded neatly across the top. His spear and backpack rest in the corner next to the chest with his clothes. Clothes?

  Lifting the covers, he discovers that he’s naked as the day he was born; the only exception being the bandage covering the wound on his leg where the wolf had bit him. Not sure how he came to be in this place, he does vaguely remember someone at the edge of the stream helping to fight off the wolves.

  Daylight filters in through a small window in the far wall. The soft pink tinge in the sky beyond indicates that sundown must be approaching. Or could it be dawn? Beyond the window comes the sound of wood being split with an axe. A slightly off-key whistling tune accompanies the chopping.

  Lying quietly, he listens to the whack, whack, whack. When the chopping stops, footsteps are heard making their way around the cabin. From the other side of his bedroom door comes the squeal of hinges in need of oiling, followed by the thudding of wood being dumped into what James envisions to be a wood-box.

  After an anxious moment of silence during which James strains to hear what is going on out there, nervousness fills him when footsteps start coming toward the door to his room. He listens with growing trepidation as they draw closer.

  Will he be friend or foe? Praying for the one who approaches to be counted among the former but fearing he may be of the latter, James glances toward the spear leaning against the wall. For a split-second, he contemplates going for it, but then the footsteps stop just outside the door and know2 the opportunity has past. He watches with apprehension as the door handle turns.

  In walks the man who had been at the river. Seeing James awake, he pauses just within the door and gives him a disarming smile.

  “Finally awake, I see. You slept all night and through most of this day. I bet you’re hungry. Yes?”

  He’s in hi
s mid forties, about six feet tall with brown hair, and quite muscular. Nothing fat about him, he’s in very good shape. Dressed in woodsman’s attire, he has a clean if not stylish appearance. Earlier apprehension is soon alleviated by the man’s friendly demeanor.

  A loud rumbling from his belly answers the question. James gives him a nod. After a moment of silence, he asks, “Where am I? And who do I have to thank for my life?”

  “As to where you are, you are here, in my cabin. My name is Ceryn and I am the Forest Warden in these parts. It was lucky I came along when I did. That wolf pack would have had you for dinner for sure.”

  “Ceryn?” James says, hoping to have pronounced the name correctly. “My name’s James. I appreciate you saving me.”

  Ceryn’s grin widens. “Glad I was there to help. You can rest for a little while longer. Supper’s cooking and will be a few more minutes before it’s ready.” He gestured toward the clothes upon the chest. “I cleaned them a bit, washed out the worst of it. If you have the strength and wish to get dressed, you can join me in the other room. If not, I’ll bring a bowl in here.” He waits for James’ reaction. When none is forthcoming, he mumbles, “Strangest clothes I’ve ever seen,” then turns about and without another word closes the door as he leaves the room. Soon, the sounds of what James’ grandfather always called puttering could be heard coming from the outer room.

  Not really having the energy or drive to leave the comfort of the bed, but not wanting to eat dinner lying naked beneath the covers either, James gingerly sits up and swings his legs over the edge. The movement causes the throbbing in his leg to increase. He remains sitting for a few moments to gather his courage before braving the pain and stand.

  It’s not going to hurt that bad.

  Coming to his feet proved how wrong he was. The pain was the worst he’d ever felt in his life. It took every ounce of fortitude and willpower he possessed to cross the ten feet to where his clothes lay. As soon as he comes within reach of his spear, he takes it and uses it for support. Doing so did much to relieve his discomfort.

  He finds that his clothes have indeed been cleaned, and dresses.

  Once clothed, he carries his backpack over to the bed and sitting once more, takes inventory of what remains of his meager possessions. Everything is there except the book explaining the workings of magic. He does a visual search of the area where his backpack had sat, but fails to find it. It occurs to him that he could possibly have lost it during his flight from, and subsequent fight with, the wolves. But that doesn’t seem likely as the backpack had been closed tightly throughout the ordeal and still remains so. Could Ceryn have taken it? James didn’t want to believe that of his benefactor, but what did he really know about the man?

  Deciding to take things one step at a time, he returns his pack to the corner. Hobbling across the room with the aid of his spear, he opens the door and peers through to the outer room.

  Beyond he finds a room three times the size of the one in which he awoke. In the center sits a wooden table with three chairs. One wall holds several shelves containing plates and other cooking equipment. Set against another section of wall is a simple wooden desk atop which papers lay in haphazard fashion. An inkwell sits near the stack of papers with a quill lying beside it.

  The bow that saved his life hangs near the desk along with a quiver of arrows. On the side of the bow opposite the quiver lies a scabbarded sword and shield, both of which have the look of having been well used.

  Attention drawn to the opening of the door, Ceryn spies him and gives a nod as the Warden continues slicing vegetables for a big stewpot. Indicating the table with a jerk of his head, he says, “Have a seat. This will need to cook a little longer.”

  Hobbling to the table, James looks longingly toward the stewpot simmering upon a hook over a gently burning fire in the fireplace. The mouthwatering aroma it emits causes his stomach to growl. Taking a seat facing Ceryn he says, “I haven’t had a good meal for a while.”

  Ceryn grins and chuckles. “Whether this will be what you call good or not, you’ll have to decide.” Finishing with the preparations, he places the pot on a hook over the fire in the hearth to finish cooking. After filling two mugs from a pitcher, he brings them to the table.

  James takes the one offered him, looks within and sniffs uncertainly.

  “It’s just ale, lad. You look like you could use some.” Giving him a wink, Ceryn tosses back his mug and takes a deep draught.

  Bringing the mug to his mouth, James hesitantly takes a sip. When the liquid hits his tongue, he has to admit it wasn’t bad. A little strong for his taste, but not worse than some of the stuff he has tried over at his friend Dave’s place. Glancing to Ceryn, James notices that he’s being scrutinized.

  “I suppose you have a lot of questions about me?”

  “Yes, a couple. But your business is just that, your business. You seem a nice enough lad. You needn’t feel obligated to tell me anything more than what you want.” Ceryn sets his mug on the table then returns to the stew pot where he stirs it with a large wooden spoon. “Can’t let it burn on the bottom.”

  “That’s what my grandmother always says, too.” Remembering times sitting in his grandmother’s kitchen while she cooked makes him a little homesick.

  “She must have been a nice woman, a good cook maybe?” He casts a look to James and receives a nod in reply. Returning his attention to the pot, he stirs the stew a few more times. Once satisfied that it isn’t in any immediate danger of burning, he sets the spoon on the counter and returns to the table. Grabbing his mug, he downs the rest of it.

  “She was the best. Sometimes there would be little in the house, yet she could whip up the most wonderful dinners.” Memories of fine meals make his stomach growl loudly.

  “It’ll be just a few minutes longer.”

  “Where am I exactly?”

  A surprised look comes over Ceryn. “You mean you don’t even know where you are?”

  “Not really.” After taking another sip of the not-entirely-unpleasant ale, he adds, “I’ve been lost.”

  The Forest Warden studies his face for a moment before answering. “You are near the Kelewan River, not far from the township of Trendle. The forest I found you in is called The Dark Forest of Kelewan. Nothing really dark about it unless you come here ill prepared. It’s my job to help people in trouble, like yourself, and if need be get a crew to clear the roads when a tree falls and blocks the trails.”

  “I am very glad you were there for me. Those wolves had been after me since the night before. I took out one that had wandered into my camp and the others seemed to have it in for me ever since.” Pausing for another sip of ale, he then asks. “How far is it to Trendle?”

  “About a day and a half’s walk. In your condition you’ll never make it. You will need to rest at least until tomorrow. I’m heading there in the morning and could take you if you like.”

  “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

  James was warming to this Ceryn. A rather genial chap, his easy speech and relaxed demeanor put James at ease.

  Ceryn goes to inspect the stew once again. Using the spoon to take a taste, he nods approvingly and removes the pot from the fire. After setting it on the table, he crosses to the shelves and selects two bowls and a pair of smaller, wooden spoons. Returning to the table, he hands one of each to James.

  Following Ceryn’s lead, James dips his spoon into the stewpot and proceeds to fill his bowl. The stew has a thick gravy and contains many different vegetables, some unfamiliar, with a little bit of meat. While he fills his bowl, Ceryn fetches a loaf of bread. Using his belt knife, the Warden slices off two thick pieces and hands one to James.

  Breaking off a corner, James dips the bread into the stew’s gravy. When the gravy covered bread hits his taste buds, his salivary glands go into overtime. This tastes great! Taking up his spoon, he eagerly scoops as much meat and veggies as the utensil can hold. “Oh, man,” he mumbles appreciatively as he chews. The meat i
s flavorful without being tough and the veggies are soft yet still firm. Eating with gusto, James soon empties his bowl and is scooping a second helping out of the pot.

  “Hungry?”

  James realizes that he is starting his second bowl while Ceryn still has yet to finish his first. Slightly embarrassed at eating so fast and greedily, he replies, “Either I am totally starving or this is the best stew I have ever had!”

  Ceryn chuckles. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both. Eat as much as you can hold, you look like you could use it.” Scooping out another helping, the Forest Warden re-fills his bowl from the stewpot then cuts another section of bread for himself and James.

  Once the meal is over and hunger has been satisfied, Ceryn takes the bowls and spoons outside to the river and washes them. Bringing them back inside, he sets them on the shelf then places a lid on the stew pot before moving it over onto a side table.

  Night has fallen by this time, the only light being that from the fire. Ceryn settles into a chair near the fire and pulls out his pipe. Filling it with pipe weed, he sets a smoldering stick from the fire to it and puffs several times. He tosses the stick back within the fire and leans back in his chair as pipe smoke begins to encircle his head.

  James brings a chair and sits next to the Warden. The warmth coming from the flames feels good and quickly relaxes him. He watches the flames dance as they consume the wood, thinking how his life had changed over the past few days. From home, to the woods, and now a friendly Warden’s home, he can’t help but wonder what the next day will hold. Though thoughts of the past two days and what may lie ahead occupy his mind, he has a hard time keeping his eyes open. Repeatedly, his head droops to his chest only to suddenly jerk back up.