The Wizard (Dungeon Core Book 1)

by MJ Kaltenbrunner

  If he were to be discovered by a professional adventuring company, his core would be theirs for the taking. Fear was something that he was not free of, despite no longer being human in body. Briefly, he wondered if that were something he would be able to address, so that he could become a truly focused being of logic and magical expansion.

  For now, since the golems would not be able to stay animated, and he was becoming increasingly terrified of being destroyed so soon into his new magical experience, Mertho decided to try and find another, more natural, creature to protect him.

  He put out his magical feelers, streams of invisible energy, just like he'd done to call to Tehra. There were beasts in the wilderness away from the city. He had felt their presence and even seen them great distances from his tower. It was rare they ever ventured anywhere near to where humans were in large numbers. Mertho would find one to tempt, to draw near, and he would take hold of its mind—supposing that he was able. Yes, of course he could. He was no longer a mere human, after all.

  12

  Tehra woke up, the scratchy material of her blanket damp, and heat giving way to an icy chill as the air flowed under the edges as she sat up in her narrow bed. "Gods damn it," she said in a way that was very un-elf like. If any of the gods were to damn anyone due to that kind of language, it would be her. Having been severed from her elf heritage at such a fragile, young age, she had little connection left in her heart.

  She shook her head slowly, the weight inside it making the movement labored. It was like a crown of heavy lead was atop her head, pushing down and making the swiveling of her neck difficult. Inside it were thoughts of that cave in the mountain, the deep down the chamber with the hidden core.

  It had been a year since that night in the hills with the strange wizard’s floating skull, but it was still fresh in her mind. Could it have been nothing but her imagination? She still tried to convince herself that it wasn’t real sometimes. Sleeping outdoors alone, in the eerie wilderness could play with a person's mind. That would be enough to cause anyone to see things that weren't really there. Or, to have terrifying dreams that crept up and seemed so normal at first that she had mistaken them for reality.

  Those men and the woman who had come for her, come to get her for killing Rufer, they had been real enough. And she knew very well that the mercenaries were not just part of her dreamtime imaginings. Had Tehra caused their deaths? Looking down at the way her body was making the blanket shiver, she had her hands in her lap. The palms were so clear and light, pallid really, as an elf was known to be. The true color seemed closer to red, with the blood that had been pulverized, stabbed, and slashed from their bodies.

  "Those poor bastards," she whispered. Reducing them to such simple terms helped her to make things simple again in her mind. Acting as though she felt truly sorry for them also helped to ease her conscience. If it hadn't been for that evil wizard and his magical core, and his hideous traps, she would have almost assuredly ended up with a slit through her neck while sleeping under that fallen tree in a ditch.

  Something about the cave and the magic it had contained continued to call to her. At first, she had wanted to stay inside the city and avoid the guards. That was too risky though, so she traveled to a small town about half a day’s walk away. There, Tehra had asked traders for information. The fat merchant who she'd killed, that sleazy pig, had actually had a wife. It was little wonder he'd been keeping a secret room. It was likely that wasn't even his primary home. Tehra was glad he hadn’t left any children behind along with his wife when the elf had had to stick her knife into his throat.

  The widow still had plenty of money apparently and had paid the city guards handsomely to keep searching for her husband's killer. This, along with the mercenaries who were still after the reward money, had made it impossible to go to the city. That's why Tehra was glad she’d wound up in the dirt-poor town of Fayborrough instead, half a day's walk away from Aklago. The people of this town kept to themselves and did not like drawing the attention of outsiders. That, coupled with the distance from the city, made it a great place to hide from officials. That’s why Tehra had decided to remain there rather than bothering to move on.

  With another shiver and then a big sigh, Tehra got out of the rickety bed and stood up. There was only just enough ceiling clearance in her rented room to stand fully straight. She wanted to stretch out first thing in the morning, but lifting her hands far above her head was not physically possible. There wasn't much to her room. It just contained the bed with its straw-filled mattress and pillow, and a scratchy, yet sufficiently warm, blanket. In the corner was a bucket that was for whatever use she might find, namely relieving herself without braving the icy cold on winter nights. It was still warm this time of year, so there was thankfully no need to forgo using the common latrine situated behind the boarding house at present.

  With an empty stomach and nothing in her room to eat, Tehra stepped out to greet the rising sunshine. It was a pleasant day and the wind rolling over the fields and crops was enticing, like the true essence of nature. At least, that’s what it felt like to someone who'd grown up in the hustle and grime found within a densely populated city.

  Tehra was hungry, but that didn’t mean she was going to eat. It had been several days since she’d last been offered any work. Then, it had been shoveling horseshit with a few of the local boys. The way they stared at her was somehow both offensive and cute. If they weren’t gawking at her pointed ears and elven features, they were admiring her firm backside when she bent over to scoop up a shovel load, or looking at her breasts when she was stretching her back out on their break.

  And today, Tehra was going to see the white witch who lived just on the edge of the forest outside of town. They say that the town was given its name because of the large family of witches who were among the original founders, but speaking about that sort of thing out loud was not considered proper with most of the current townspeople. They both feared and respected the "old hag" as they were known to call her. The witch had been a friend to Tehra when the other townspeople had kept her at arm’s length. And she had been helping teach her the ways of her inherent elven magical powers. The only thing Tehra had learned was a low-level ability to now detect magic. She was able to see it in magical items in the witch’s home, and the aura was even visible around the witch. It might not have been impressive, but it made Tehra feel closer to her elven ancestors.

  Tehra walked out of the town, now used to the harmless stares of the locals as she went. They didn’t mind the elf being there, and mostly found it exciting to have someone so strange and exotic calling their town home for a time. Still, Tehra hadn’t made any friends there, not when people were still so reclusive around strangers.

  She went up the road toward the forest and then veered off a surprisingly well-trodden pathway. Inside the forest, life was still and so different that it was hard to believe a large clump of humans lived just down the road. Birds tweeted and sang in the morning sunshine, dancing and playing with each other between the tall tree branches. There was a low orchestra of natural noises, from insects to birds, coupled with the rustling of the leaves and tall grass as the breeze slowly moved along on its never-ending journey around the globe of the world.

  “It’s a fine day to see one so fair and young,” called out the old woman from her home, not far from the path leading into the forest. “I hope you brought your appetite with you, Tehra.”

  “Hello, Wynoa! Yes, I certainly did. It’s been a day since I last ate. Work in the town is slow, especially when you look different to everyone else.” Tehra walked toward the open door of the battered, wooden cottage. It was a shack really, but not much worse than the average farmer spent their lifetime in.

  Wynoa grinned, the age lines on her face cracking even more around her thin lips. “I’m sure the business owners in the town just have jealous wives who won’t let their husbands hire someone who possesses such an abundance of feminine beauty, my dear.” Despite how old
she looked, her eyes were full of a youthful vigor that mortals tended to lose not long into their young adult years, and even during their childhood in many parts of this harsh world. It was true that she was a spinster, and lived alone out here, largely made a pariah by the very people who frequented her home to utilize her services and expertise. However, life seemed to bring her endless joy.

  Tehra’s face went hot, and she was sure she was blushing. She looked away from the old lady.

  Wynoa brought a wrinkled hand up to the young elf’s face. With fingers thin as twigs and dry skin from mixing her concoctions for the villagers, the touch of the old lady’s hand was still warm and endearing.

  “Thank you,” said Tehra, feeling rude but still embarrassed by the compliment. During the past year they’d known each other, the two had bonded almost as though they were family. It had occurred to her more than once that she might have sought out Wyona’s attention due to not having a mother of her own. Such things were a waste of time to think about, and didn’t linger in Tehra’s mind for overly long. Besides, it was only upsetting to think about the family she lacked.

  “Please, sit with me. I have fresh bread with nuts and berries from the forest. Plus, I brewed that magroot tea you so enjoyed last time. Some find it on the bitter side, but you seem to have a natural affinity with the earthier flavors.

  “I guess it’s hard to avoid when you look like me.” Tehra was referring to being an elf, but she knew the good-natured witch wouldn’t actually draw attention to her being different just because of her race, even though it was meant as a compliment.

  As they sat inside by the small fire, each of them drinking from a wooden mug filled with fragrant, warm tea, Tehra chewed on a hearty chunk of still warm bread as Wynoa continued to stare. By the time the elf had finished eating the piece of bread, it was nagging at her to ask what the problem was. While her stomach was not sated, and life seeming much better again, Tehra couldn’t help but feel there was a glimmer of regret or sorrow in the eyes of the kind woman.

  “You’re probably wondering why I stare this way,” Wynoa said as though reading her guest’s mind.

  It had occurred to her that perhaps the old, white witch did have some kind of power of premonition. It had never been discussed, however. “You do look a bit sad today, and I really wonder why you’re looking at me in such a way. Are you alright?”

  “Do you mind if we skip today’s lesson? I am distracted. Oh … I’m going to miss you,” said Wynoa. “I can sense that you’re going to be leaving me today. Please,” she said firmly, raising her hands up, “don’t be worried. If I appear forlorn, it will only be because I love your visits so. I am almost sure your leaving will be a positive thing in your life.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I thought maybe my time was up already. And here I am, with so very much to do,” Tehra replied with sarcasm.

  Wynoa laughed and shook her head. “I am going to miss your humor. I know you haven’t particularly opened up to me, although I feel like there is a warmth in your heart when we drink tea and talk. When you practice your magic, that’s when I can feel your warmth the most.”

  "So, are you saying you think I'm going to leave Fayborrough?”

  "Come now; it's hardly your own fault that you were made an orphan and left to grow in a land of humans. We don't possess the same knack for magic, or the interest in it, let alone the trust required to peer into the unknown void that exists within the invisible world around us. Also, I am not the only one who can teach you such basic knowledge as I have of herbs and healing remedies. I'm little more than a witch doctor, when it comes down to it, only I've never liked that term. It implies my knowledge is based on science, when it is much more a feeling sort of thing."

  Listening to Wynoa talk about the magical world, especially how it was so solidly melded with the natural one, always brought a warmth to Tehra's soul. "If I seem happy when you teach me, it's surely just because of the good magic I'm picking up from you, Wynoa. And it's thanks to you that I even understand how to detect magic on any level. But that's not enough to do my ancestors justice, surely."

  "I'm sorry to bring this up, but you may never know who those ancestors are. You might do better not to worry about things you can never know, and most likely can't change anyway. Remember the way the natural world moves like endlessly flowing water, running in the direction that makes the most sense. Trying to fight against what is real can only lead to heartache, or worse still, destruction."

  When Tehra eventually left the old witch, her eyes were sore from tears that had been dying to burst forth. Letting herself become emotional would have only upset the kind woman, and bringing sadness into such a giving and loving heart would not have been right. Instead, as the young elf walked away from the weathered cottage, she wept and wondered if she would really be leaving the village that day. Again, she'd be all alone if she did, so the decision to stay was firmly in her mind.

  13

  The air in the forest was ideal for drying tears. Tehra was feeling pathetic and emotional, so she stooped down and picked a tiny string of flowers that were growing in a ring around a tall tree. They didn't have much scent to them, but the petals were a lovely shade of red that spoke to her and seemed reassuring for some reason. She placed them around the button of her shirt, tying the string of flowers around it so they'd stay put. It was stupidly sentimental and just as pointless, but the act seemed to have significance for some reason.

  As Tehra slowly slumped back to the town, still with an invisible weight resting upon her head, she saw new things before her. A caravan had come into the thoroughfare of the town, down the road that went through the center of the scarce houses and stores. There weren't many people who lived right in the central part of the town. It was more of a central trading area. So, when anyone new did come into the town, it was easy for the locals to know about it.

  They had already started to swarm around the wagons and coaches. There was one coach in particular that looked out of place among the other vehicles. Its vibrant color stood out particularly against the backdrop of the modest town. It was built for only a handful of people to ride in. There was a trunk on top, but it was only large enough for a small amount of personal effects. The carriage's occupants were most likely not farmers or laborers. The exterior was painted a lavender hue that few could afford the pigmentations for, and there were shining metal fittings on the sides and up where the driver sat.

  The rest of the caravan was made up of the usual wagons and buggies that came through the town regularly. It was an ideal spot to stop and water the horses and oxen, and to trade for any supplies that were too expensive coming from the city. There were also merchants who stopped through on their way to or from the city, to try and sell off some of their goods before continuing.

  Children were gathered around the lavender carriage. It made Tehra nervous when she saw a stylishly coiffed lady sitting inside. Two children were playing with each other nearby. Young boys with short sticks they were pretending were swords, they clacked the pieces of brittle wood against each other and laughed as they imagined they were brave adventurers in a duel for honor or glory.

  "Hey," said Tehra to them, with a harsh whisper that carried her word without being too loud. She approached the side of the road, so she was standing near the fronts of the stores and houses. There was some shade there, as the sun was low. This gave her cover from the group of people who were over by the visiting caravan. "Hey, boy," she called again.

  They stopped and looked over to discover the source of the calling. One of the boys answered her, his face grimy from playing, after first probably working on his parents' farm doing early morning chores. "Who? Me?" he asked.

  "Yes, well, either of you, or both. How would you like to earn—" Damn it, she thought. Tehra had been planning to bribe them to go find out more about that posh looking lady in the lavender caravan, but didn't have anything to offer.

  "Earn what?" the other boy said, equally gri
my and looking so similar to the other that they were surely siblings.

  "I don't know. Would you like to do me a favor out of the kindness of your hearts?"

  "You mean a good deed?" said the first.

  "That is what knights would do," added the other. They looked at each other and whispered so that Tehra couldn't hear what was said. The first one, who'd originally replied to Tehra, said with a beaming smile, "Yes, we will help you, my lady."

  "Wonderful!"

  When they returned from their 'quest', as they referred to it, they had some useful information for Tehra. Excitedly, they told her in unison, talking over each other here and there, repeating details without noticing, about the lady whose husband had been a rich merchant in the big city of Aklago. It was Rufer's widow. She was leaving the city to go back to her family's farm to live because she had completely run out of money and even lost her house.

  Almost stumbling back as the boys explained this to her, Tehra had to ask them again. "Are you certain? Who told you that?"

  "Everyone in the town knows it by now. We heard our father talking to one of the farmers who's done lots of business with a man who's part of this caravan, doing some trading. That carriage and whatever's in her trunk is the only thing the widow has left. "

  "You can believe us, my lady," said the other one happily. He puffed his chest out, as did his brother. "We are honorable knights on a quest." They can't have been more than eight years old, and this was adorable.

  "Okay, I do believe you, boys. Err, I mean, noble knights. You have my everlasting gratitude. Oh, here," she said, taking the flowers from her shirt and breaking the string of bright red and green in half. "This is a token of my thanks, given only to the most trustworthy and selfless of adventurers. Oh, and this can be our secret, can't it?"