Ardeen, Volume 1: The Circle of Magic

by Sigrid Kraft

  Eryn sat up and asked curiously: “And?”

  The grin on Ravenor’s face was as wide as it could be: “It worked. Gyswen went completely mad about him and now Halfe owes me.”

  Eryn was skeptical. He’d borne the brunt of too many beatings and punishments to be otherwise. Right now this is a time of quiet. Should I really risk that peace? But Ravenor is absolutely right about the meals. The pigs are fed better than we are.

  “Can Halfe be trusted? After all, he’s already got his reward.”

  “Admire my genius, as I said before, Eryn. The potion only works for a few days and then its effect is gone, which means Halfe will need a fresh supply. But now he’s tasted the sweet fruit of love, he’ll certainly do everything to keep it that way.”

  This doesn’t sound so bad after all. A small risk still remains... But I have to give Ravenor his due, it’s a well-conceived plan.

  “Hmm, and what shall we tell Farat and Deren?”

  Ravenor shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. The two of them will still be on watch when we are long back at the dormitory. The fewer who know about the plan, the better. Not that I begrudge it them. It’s just wiser if not too many are in the know.”

  “Well, I’m in.”

  Ravenor slapped both hands on his thighs and stood up.

  “All right. Then let the next watch come. I won’t lose further words about the plan now. For reasons of safety... our safety.”

  Ravenor turned to clean his equipment and Eryn opened a book:

  ‘Basics of Air Magic by Areus Whitethorn’.

  How is it possible to write such dry and boring theoretical books? But Master Lionas gave it to me and he is sure to ask me about the contents. He is a patient man but he also has to report to the superior mage, Master Calwas about my progress in the art. Then Master Calwas will inform the Black Prince and if His Highness isn’t pleased, his displeasure will travel down the chain the other way. In the end, Master Lionas will put on a severe face and reprimand me, and he is certain to find some kind of penalty to remind me to put more effort into learning stupid theoretical stuff. Oh well, just open the first page and soon I’ll have zoned out.

  Eryn read the introduction:

  The Basics of Air Magic by Areus Whitethorn. Mage of eight rings, grade seven.

  These historical designations...

  Air magic is a part of the twelve circles. The color is white. Very important information.

  In the most seldom cases, air magic is used in its pure form. But it is very powerful in combination with the other circles...

  Where did Rhyenna obtain her knowledge? Brewing potions. That’s nothing for beginners and also not something you acquire on your own. Eryn was still staring at the letters, but his concentration had gone.

  Someone must be teaching her. Don’t think it’s one of the old mages. They are too loyal to the Prince...

  Annoyed with himself, Eryn tried to focus on the text: ...In the most seldom cases, air magic is used in its pure form. But it is very powerful in combination with the other circles. Air magic can be combined with all other circles, as Master Cordanius Magnar already mentioned in his standard volume about basic magic four hundred years ago. Meanwhile...

  Ravenor’s plan is still risky. If we get caught... I doubt they would believe us. If we were anyone else – perhaps. But the two of us! We’re already for the highjump even if we haven’t done anything. But the prospect of having a satisfying meal is tempting. I miss the taste of fine food. They have everything there. Meat, fruit, bread – even honeycakes...

  Once again, Eryn’s thoughts circled around the conspiracy. Just two days until the next watch begins. Time moved on, although the waiting made it seem endless. Ravenor and Eryn didn’t talk about the plan again, but arrangements were made. And then finally the fated day arrived. The two of them went into the refectory at midday, where they saw Halfe standing behind the counter, serving meals. When it was Ravenor’s turn to get a ladle of mush in his bowl, he nodded towards Halfe and the kitchen boy replied gruffly: “No more. Move on – others are waiting, too.” Ravenor passed without a word and then it was Eryn’s turn to hold out his bowl. The mush contained oats and vegetables as usual. But if you were really lucky, you might find a tiny morsel of meat floating in the slop ... on a really good day.

  Eryn kept up with Ravenor, who said: “Everything all right!” That utterance would arouse no one’s suspicion, but in truth it meant that their plan was going to be carried out.

  At nightfall, the two conspirators went to take over the watch. Four hours later, when Deren and Farat turned up, they exchanged a few unimportant words before Eryn and Ravenor left to head back to the barracks. On their way, they passed directly by the kitchen and slowed down. Carefully, they looked in every direction to be certain no one else was close. Everything quiet here.

  They turned round the corner swiftly and entered the back door. Everything went according to plan and they soon found themselves in the pantry. It was dark in there, so Eryn cast a small light spell, just the faintest of glows that wouldn’t draw any attention if someone were to walk by the small pantry window.

  It meant, however, that they had to get right up to the shelves to see anything. Close to the floor, there were potatoes and other vegetables. On the higher boards, they found ham and sausages, bread and fruit. They took a little of this and a little of that, careful to make sure that it wouldn’t be obvious that something was missing. Soon they were out again – their raid a full success.

  Eryn’s pulse was still pounding. The perilousness of the situation had given him a thrill similar to fighting on a battlefield.

  This might not be about life or death but it can nevertheless turn out very unhappily if we get caught.

  When they were safely out of danger, they were overcome with euphoria as they examined what they had stolen. A piece of ham, half a loaf of bread, some apples and pears. And the taste was all the sweeter for their having broken some of those stupid military rules. Ravenor was the greater daredevil but Eryn, too, was excited by the game.

  The second and third times went as smoothly as the first. By now, they were very familiar with the location and their raids resulted in a more substantial booty. Eryn and Ravenor felt a bit guilty for not letting Deren and Farat in on the plan. They did give them their share of the spoils, though, telling the roommates a fine tale about a pretty girl who helped them to acquire their edible treasures. To store the food in the quarters would be too dangerous, as they were supervised very strictly by their superiors, so Ravenor and Eryn first stuffed themselves at the scene of their crime and then carried the stolen food with them till they could eat it or share it with their mates.

  Deren and Farat probably didn’t believe the fanciful stories, but they didn’t question them too closely either and were grateful for the extra rations.

  Also, they were fine comrades and wouldn’t snitch on the two thieves.

  Then the fourth time came. The door stood open as usual.

  Quickly they slipped into the house. By now, they had stopped worrying about being caught, because everything had run so smoothly on previous occasions. They had already investigated all the rooms in the upper part of the house, and knew where the best things could be found. His pockets full, Eryn turned towards the exit when he felt Ravenor’s hand upon his shoulder. He turned back again. That night, the moonlight was bright and shone right through the window. Eryn had already extinguished his light but he had no problem seeing Ravenor pointing to the cellar stairs. Then Ravenor made a gesture as if he were drinking.

  Down there must be where all the delicious wine is stored.

  Wine was only served at rare occasions, and was completely forbidden to the recruits, which made it an even more interesting goal to get hold of some. Not that Eryn was very experienced with the juice of the grape. For the Fenn, alcohol was only a method of coming into contact with the Gods, so he had only been drunk at a few feasts during the past years, and never simply for pleas
ure. Nevertheless, he remembered well the warm sensation and the ease of his spirit when he had been drunk. That was rather an interesting experience.

  Ravenor had already hurried downstairs and Eryn was quick to follow. As always, he held a faint ball of magical light in his hand that cast ghostly shadows like dark pictures on the wall.

  To the left and right of the corridor, passages opened on to small rooms, mostly storage places for the supply of fire wood. The corridor came to an end at a heavy oak door.

  Ravenor pressed down on the handle, but the door was locked.

  “A curse on it!” he hissed.

  Now Eryn indicated that Ravenor should wait.

  I have seen the key before...

  Quickly, he ran back up the stairs, turning right, as he remembered. And there it was: a key of shining copper dangling on a cord. It fit perfectly in the lock and after a single turn, the mechanism clicked open. Why people lock doors and then keep the keys just close by... doesn’t seem too clever.

  Almost soundlessly, the door swung open and a sourish, cold draft wafted towards them.

  The wine cellar – without a doubt. They entered in happy anticipation. Suddenly, a sound from upstairs drifted down to them, and a bright light fell on the first steps. It is at such moments that all plans die. A scalding hot sensation rushed down Eryn’s spine and he shut the door very carefully to avoid making a noise.

  We’ll leave as soon as our guest has gone again. Still the magical light burned in Eryn’s palm and he held it high enough to see Ravenor’s face. Ravenor put his finger to his lips in an unmistakable gesture.

  As if I need that advice. Do you think I’m stupid?

  Eryn looked around. In the cellar stood three enormous barrels of wine and a shelf filled with countless bottles. From above, they now heard steps on the wooden floorboards. Eryn listened, every nerve in his body frozen. Someone is walking back and forth. Now – silence. Some rustling followed, muffled by the thick door. And then the person started humming:

  “Hmmmm, the lady was my darling, so pretty, sweet and gentle...”

  Hell, Halford the kitchen master! It’s always the same tune he sings at every improper opportunity. He’s just what we need. Halford doesn’t like us and we don’t like him.

  Halford was not particularly popular with the soldiers because he was known to be niggardly with the ingredients. Rarely was a piece of meat to be found in the bland soup. There were other rumors about Halford as well, that he bad mouthed the soldiers in front of the officers. Ever since Gordow, the old kitchen master had become so old that he could barely walk, Halford had advanced to the sole ruler of the kitchen, and no soldier could expect anything good from him.

  Keep calm and wait. Halford won’t notice us as long as we don’t make any noise.

  Again steps and no – without a doubt – Halford was coming downstairs. Immediately, Eryn extinguished the light and they hid in the shadow behind the last barrel of wine. Eryn cursed the full moon’s light and the bright, shining stars, which illuminated the cellar through a small barred window. But he said to himself: As long as Halford doesn’t search the room too closely, he won’t find us.

  Now the kitchen master was at the door. “That useless rascal has left the key here!”

  The lock clicked, then the steps shuffled away upstairs. Far away, there was a faint click of metal against stone and the key hung in place again. Then the steps departed and the door leading outside uttered its usual creak before falling shut. Silence.

  Eryn sighed in relief and his first thought was: A close shave. His next thought, however, shocked him to the core: Damn and blast – the door!

  In three steps, he was across the room, pressing down the handle. A short clack rang out, but that was all. His worst fear was confirmed.

  Locked.

  At his side, Ravenor had also understood what was going on. Lowering his voiced he said: “We have to open the lock.”

  Oh a really wonderful idea! Eryn thought sarcastically while he created a magical light no brighter than a candle flame. “If we cover the window, I can increase the light and then we’ll be able to see better.” And also think about a way to escape.

  Ravenor found some rags on the ground and stuffed them into the window opening. This still wasn’t sufficient so he took his cape off and squeezed it into the gap that remained.

  With his limited magical abilities, Eryn tested the result. Fine, no light is escaping outside. Then he intensified his spell to create a bright light.

  “We have to find a lock pick,” Ravenor reflected out loud. Now that they were trapped, he seemed to have no problem speaking at a normal volume. Eryn’s concentration dissipated and the flame dwindled to the flicker of a candle.

  “Shut up, will you? I have to concentrate.”

  Even in their miserable situation, Ravenor could not hold back from needling: “Harkon has no problems with such simple spells.”

  “Harkon has been doing magic for the best part of twenty years now and you can’t weave anything at all. So how about keeping your mouth shut?”

  The flame in Eryn’s hand grew, becoming higher, then smaller again, flickered and then fell in little drops to the floor to die out completely.

  Damnation! Okay. Start again from the beginning. Create flame. Increase flame. Then surround it with air and raise it like a balloon up to the ceiling.

  Five more attempts were necessary till the gleaming ball finally hung above them and filled the whole cellar with a dull white light. Beads of sweat dropped from Eryn’s forehead by the time he had at last managed it. Weaving spells is darned exhausting. It is much easier to light a torch than to produce such a ball of light and hang it somewhere. Then he picked on Ravenor: “So much for your super plan. Wasn’t the idea to go upstairs and report to Halford that there was nothing down here ... That was the idea, wasn’t it?”

  Ravenor by now didn’t look as confident as usual.

  “Then tell me why you shut the door when we heard someone coming? And now stop moaning and start looking for a piece of wire or metal.”

  Eryn had to concede that point to Ravenor. Unfortunately it is true – shutting the door was a mistake. There are moments in life when you stop thinking and only react, and later on everybody knows better: You could have done this or that and everything would have turned out well. But the moment of could-have-done-something-else was over and they were locked in.

  The offending door was of massive oak with fittings and riveting made of thick steel. The window was no option either, as it was barred, probably for the purpose of keeping out animals, though now it gave the cellar the air of a prisoner’s cell. Eryn and Ravenor searched the whole room but couldn’t find anything of use. The lock was rather small compared to the key, which was now on the other side – safely out of reach. As they had come straight from the watch, they were still wearing armor and had their weapons with them. But not a single part of their equipment was suited for opening the accursed lock.

  Suddenly Ravenor had an idea and turned to Eryn: “Are you able to do some sort of opening spell?”

  Oh, you’re so quick-witted. Does he really mean it?

  “Of course, I wait here an eternity only to produce the solution at last to how simply we could be saved, with no other aim than to increase the tension so that afterwards my glory will attain ever greater heights and the bards will sing songs about my wit... Of course I can’t! And I presume that an opening spell is the last thing they are going to show me. Apart from the fact that merely mentioning it requires fifth grade magic, if that means anything to you.”

  Ravenor gave a surly grunt and drew his sword, but Eryn held him back.

  “What do you think you’re doing now?”

  As always when Ravenor ran out off clever ideas, he turned to the radical solution: “What do you think? Chopping the wood to pieces!”

  “And you really consider that to be a good idea? Later, they won’t even need a mage to find the culprits. Spending half the night hack
ing through a solid oak door... That’s if no one else hears us knocking beforehand.”

  An understanding of their situation finally dawned on Ravenor. It is over now. We are trapped.

  He returned the blade into the scabbard, then took off his helmet and threw it carelesly into a corner. With a grim laugh, he commented: “Well then, let’s enjoy our last supper. There are still a few hours left to get drunk like kings. Brave heroes, no more complaining in this hall! Bring plenty of food and wine to our table and women... oh, well, we’re sure not to have those here tonight.”

  Again he laughed and Eryn joined in. “Live for the moment, as more than one wise poet has said. We’ll feast and drink till we see heaven on earth, and then when the others come, hell on earth will begin. But that is still a few sweet hours away.”

  Eryn took a dusty bottle of wine from the shelf. “This is certainly fine stuff.”

  The cork popped and a heavy, flowery fragrance floated up Eryn’s nose. He took a long draught and the liquid ran delightfully down his throat.

  “Your Lordship, may I serve you some wine?”

  Eryn held out the bottle and Ravenor seized hold of it to take a long swig himself. “Ahh, I could get used to the stuff.”

  They ate what they had stolen and washed it down with wine. Slightly intoxicated, Eryn began to do his magic. First a warming spell, then he created a cushion of air beneath his cloak, thus fashioning a comfortable sofa.

  Air magic is not as useless as I first thought when I read that boring book!

  Weaving spells in a state of drunkenness worked even better than when sober. Their weapons and helmets lay spread out on the floor in a chaotic mess while Eryn busied himself filling magic air into his leather tunic. Ravenor’s tunic was already turned into a cushion and lay on the couch.

  “Master Lionas would be really happy with my spell work here.”