Wizard Pair (Book 3)

by James Eggebeen

  A young woman held her hand out to the Guard, begging. "Please, my children are starving. Please let me have just one loaf of bread. Just one loaf of stale dry bread."

  The Guard looked cross with her. "Show me your coin."

  She extended her empty hand once more. "I have none. Please. My children."

  The Guard thrust the butt of his spear at her, knocking her on the shins. She crumbled to the ground in pain.

  The Guard kicked at her. "Come back with coin. No beggars allowed."

  He turned to Zhimosom. "Halt."

  The Guard held out his spear, blocking Zhimosom's path. "What brings you to the market? What coin do you have or what goods do you trade?"

  "I ... I have none." Zhimosom searched his person mentally, looking for something, anything, that he could claim as a trade good. He wished he had kept the scythe blade he had worked in the fields. A nice shiny blade like that would fetch a few coppers, maybe even a silver.

  Brill released Zhimosom's hand, ducked beneath the Guard's spear and quickly disappeared into the market.

  "Hey, come back!" Zhimosom started after her, but the Guard barred his way. He drew out a whistle and blew three short blasts. Immediately, more Guards appeared as if out of nowhere. They grabbed Zhimosom by the arms.

  "Where did she go? Where was she headed?" they demanded.

  "I don't know." Zhimosom struggled, but they held him fast. "I just met her yesterday. Her family was killed. I told her I would take her here, to town, so she could find her relatives."

  He twisted and tried to break free until one of the Guards jabbed him in the gut with the blunt end of his spear.

  "Thieves work in pairs," the first Guard said. "She's probably your sister, trained to steal while you occupy the Guards. We've seen more than enough of your kind lately."

  The Guard grabbed Zhimosom by the chin and raised his head to look him in the eyes. "Last chance."

  "I don't know where she is," Zhimosom pleaded.

  The Guard let go of his chin and slapped him across the face with the back of his hand. Pain shot through Zhimosom and he spat out blood.

  "Bind him and take him to the gaol," the Guard said. "Once the headsman returns, we'll take off his hand."

  Take off his hand! Zhimosom struggled, but it didn't matter. The Guards were too strong. The larger one jabbed him again, taking the wind out of him. He bound Zhimosom’s hands behind his back.

  "Come on, you. Don't make me carry you all the way to the castle." The Guard grabbed Zhimosom by the ear and turned him towards the street that lead to the castle.

  Zhimosom struggled to catch his breath as they shoved him along the street with their spears.

  Priests and Wizards

  "Stop this nonsense." The Baron stood and extended his hand to the Wizard. "Clearly, you have power. Why is it that you chose to help us against King Omrik? Surely he would pay a high price to have a Wizard such as you in his employ?"

  "I care not for the King," the Wizard said. "Nor he for me, I fear."

  The Baron laughed and sat back down on his ornate throne. Rotiaqua knew the King was even more dead set against Wizards and magic than her father. It was no surprise this Wizard had received a poor welcome at the King's hand.

  "No, he does not," the Baron said. "Why should I listen to you instead of having you executed for your insolence?"

  The Wizard approached the throne, took to his knee in supplication, and bowed deeply. "My Lord, all I ask is official recognition for Ran and for his priesthood. Nothing more, just a haven for worship where the faithful can gather."

  "If I recognize your god and grant you liberty to practice your religion in my land, then you will defend me from the King's armies?"

  "Yes, My Lord."

  "Nothing more?" The Baron laughed. Rotiaqua watched with a skeptical eye. She felt the magic emanating from the Wizard. It was muddy, as if it was a mixture of different types of magic, not pure and clear like her own.

  "Nothing more, My Lord."

  "Rise then ... What is your name, Wizard?"

  "My Lord, I am called Sulrad."

  "Well, Sulrad. If you can do as you say, I will grant you the freedom you request of me, but first you must prove yourself."

  "As you wish, My Lord." The Wizard bowed his head low and started to back out of the audience chamber.

  "Not so quick, Wizard. I need a reliable witness. You will take my daughter with you so she can report back to me what you do. You will protect her with your life. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, My Lord."

  The next day Sulrad sent word to the Castle that he had located the village where the King's men would attack. Rotiaqua called her Guards and a small squad of soldiers and rode out with the Priest. It took half of the morning to reach the village where Omrik's men were supposed to be headed.

  The King's men were working their way along the border towns on her father's land, burning and killing just as they'd said they would. It wasn't hard to determine the next town they would attack. Rotiaqua was not impressed with the Wizard's powers of divination.

  Sulrad set up camp on a hill overlooking the town. The stone-walled houses below were topped with sparse thatch roofs. Smoke trickled form chimneys as the townsfolk carried on with the business of harvesting and stockpiling the crops.

  A rickety wagon stuttered down the dusty lane behind a pair of oxen; the oxen were being driven by a child.

  The wagon made its way to a field almost at the extent of her vision. The wagon stopped, and the occupants piled out. They attacked the wheat with their scythes and sickles. The tall waving stalks of grain fell methodically before their labor.

  The child who had been driving the wagon joined another in the task of gathering the grain into sheaves, tying them up, and standing them in the field like soldiers at attention in a ragged line. They made quick work, cutting a wide swath that quickly stretched to the low rock wall that marked the extent of this particular field. They turned and headed back towards her, just as quickly felling the golden stalks.

  They had half the field harvested before the blare of a distant horn pierced the silence. The farmers perked up at the sound and ceased their labor. They gathered together, forming a solid mass with extended forks and scythe blades.

  A dozen men galloped down the lane towards the assembled farmers, dust filling the air behind them. They flew a banner bearing the King's crest. Rotiaqua turned to the Wizard and called out. "Here they come."

  Sulrad rushed down the hill to the dirt lane ahead of the knot of farmers. He stood in the middle of the dusty road, arm outstretched to halt the advancing army.

  "In the name of Ran, I order you to stop and leave this land," he shouted.

  The lead soldier reined his horse to a stop as he reached the Wizard. The soldier remained seated and settled his horse as his men stopped behind him.

  "In whose name?" the soldier asked.

  "In the name of Ran, on behalf of Baron Rieck, I command you to leave this land and its people and return to your King."

  "I don't know no Ran." The soldier pulled his sword from its scabbard and held it high. "In the name of King Omrik, I command you to step aside or be run through where you stand. We are meting out the just punishment that the King has decreed."

  The soldier shook the reins and his horse stepped closer to the Wizard.

  "I am warning you. Leave now, while you still can, or face the wrath of Ran." Sulrad held out his hand and a fireball like the one that Rotiaqua had witnessed before materialized. It floated just above his outstretched palm. The ball turned a deep violet, spinning and spitting sparks. It was soon so bright, she could not look directly at it.

  Power emanated from Sulrad. A violet haze seemed to enfold him in its embrace, extending out from the Wizard to the men on horseback. Rotiaqua felt the surge of power as Sulrad let the fireball loose. It flew straight and struck the lead rider. The man, horse and attendant equipment vanished in a bright sparkle of light, to be replaced by a shiny cl
oud of ash that quickly floated away in the afternoon breeze.

  The next horseman didn't wait for a challenge; he raised his sword and charged Sulrad. The soldier flashed through the dissipating cloud of ash that had been his comrade as he bore down on the Wizard.

  The soldier swung his sword.

  Rotiaqua felt the power as the sword impacted the violet light surrounding the Wizard. It was almost as if the sword had hit her flesh, so forceful was the impact, but it was blunt and turned away easily. Sulrad followed the attack with another fireball. This one materialized in the air half way between his outstretched hand and the soldier, who vanished in a flash of light and a cloud of ash, just as his commander had.

  Sulrad dispatched several more soldiers before the remnants turned and galloped off the way they had arrived. Sulrad approached the farmers and spoke to them, but his words were soft and they did not carry to her perch on the hill. The farmers all bowed their heads to the ground in front of the Wizard as he held his arms outstretched towards them.

  Rotiaqua and Sulrad rode back to the castle at a hurried pace. Rotiaqua tried to avoid the Wizard as much as possible. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. He spent most of his time preaching to the soldiers about his god Ran.

  Rotiaqua had little interest in religion. Her father said it was a waste of time; that the gods had died out well before the time of the dragons, and had been gone for a millennium. She didn't think this new god, Ran, was real; it seemed to her that he was just a story the Wizard made up to try and impress ignorant folk.

  She felt his Wizard’s power though, even when he wasn't using magic. It emanated from him as a slight violet light that constantly surrounded him.

  When they reached the castle, Sulrad proceeded immediately to the audience chamber. Rotiaqua headed to her quarters and ordered her maid to draw a bath. She'd spent more time out in the dusty, dirty countryside than she wanted and couldn't wait to get cleaned up.

  "Did he really do magic?" Oadry asked as she helped Rotiaqua out of her dusty travel clothes and into the bath.

  "Yes, he did. He raised a fireball and vaporized several soldiers before the rest of them turned tail and ran for home. I'm sure the King has heard of it by now."

  Oadry helped her wash off the worst of the dirt and grime but was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Rotiaqua, your father wants you in the audience chamber immediately."

  "Go tell him I am making myself decent and will be along as soon as I am presentable."

  Oadry rushed to the door. The Guard insisted that Rotiaqua was to come immediately, no excuses.

  Rotiaqua rose from the tub, splashing water all around. She grabbed a large towel and wrapped it around herself. She twisted her long hair to squeeze the water out and let it fall down her back. She stepped into her slippers and headed off to the audience chamber.

  When the Baron saw her, he scowled the way he usually did when she displeased him.

  "You said immediately," Rotiaqua quipped. "I wouldn't think of making you wait when such a summons is issued." She sat on her chair beside him, water still dripping from her hair and onto the rich velvet covering. It trickled down to the floor, where it made a small pool beneath her.

  "You were with the Wizard. Did you witness the power of Ran he speaks of?" The Baron nodded towards the Wizard.

  She blinked back at Sulrad in astonishment. He had paused long enough to shave his head and beard and had donned a black robe with gold piping. The robe flowed around him as he knelt before the Baron.

  "I don't know whose power he used, but I did witness him vaporize a number of the soldiers and drive the rest of them off before they could put the farmers to the sword or burn their crops."

  Her eyes kept straying to the Wizard. His shaved head and long black robes looked silly. She wondered what he was up to with such an elaborate affectation.

  "I'm sorry," she finally blurted out. "Why have you shaved your head and what are you wearing?"

  The Wizard looked up at her. "These are to mark me as a Priest of Ran. I have taken an oath to serve Ran for the rest of my life. No other shall have a place in my heart, no woman, no child for me. I am a Priest of Ran. I have dedicated my life to him and to his worship. I exist only to serve him and guide others to his light."

  "And what does this service entail, besides fighting the King's troops on behalf of my father?"

  "Ran is merciful and powerful. He shines his light on everyone who comes to him. He heals the sick, soothes the suffering, and prospers his people."

  "Care to show us how that works?" Rotiaqua asked. She was skeptical about all the talk of Ran, but Sulrad had power - that was certain.

  Sulrad turned to the line of petitioners. "Is there anyone who comes here seeking assistance? Perhaps for a sick or injured child?"

  Back in the line, a woman raised her hand. "I do, Sire. I have come asking for medical help for my son. He was run over by a wagon and his leg is twisted and broken." Her ragged homespun dress was threadbare and dirty. Her hair looked to have been quickly brushed out, but bits of straw still stuck out of it here and there.

  The Wizard walked along the line. "Anyone else?"

  Farther back, a merchant stood in the line. He wore fine clothes and jewelry made of gold and precious stones. He leaned on an ornate cane for support and looked to be overfed. He raised his hand. "My daughter. She has weak eyes. She can't see to do her work, and needs a guide to take her from place to place."

  The Wizard motioned to the merchant. "Please take me to her. I will heal her."

  "But what about my son?" the woman asked.

  "I can't heal everyone," the Wizard said, dismissing her. He turned to the merchant and extended his arm.

  "Please, kind sir. Won't you heal my son? He won't be able to work with his leg all twisted up like that. How is he supposed to support a family?"

  Sulrad turned to look the woman in the eye. "Then it's best that he not raise a family, if he can't care for it."

  She grabbed at his robe, but Sulrad pulled it away from her. "Leave me alone!"

  Sulrad turned back to the merchant and extended his arm. "Let us see about your daughter."

  Rotiaqua was furious at the way Sulrad had treated the woman. Why was the merchant's daughter worthy of healing and not the poor boy? She turned to her father to voice her complaint, but before she could say a word, he held up his hand.

  "Go with him and witness what he does," the Baron said. "Then come back and tell me about it."

  Rotiaqua looked at him, her eyes full of anger. She glanced down at the towel that enfolded her. "Like this?"

  The Baron laughed. "I didn't ask you to come down half dressed." He waved toward the Wizard and the merchant. "Hurry up before you lose sight of them.

  Rotiaqua and Sulrad followed the merchant to his house. The foyer was large and decorated with fine paintings of the man and his family. The daughter was depicted in many of them. She was a chubby, sour-faced girl with her father's nose and chin, and her mother's eyes.

  Rotiaqua and Sulrad were escorted into a sitting room and served refreshments. The merchant's wife ran around in a panic, shouting at the staff and demanding attention for Rotiaqua. "Your Grace, please excuse my lazy servants. We don't get much royalty here."

  "Please don't trouble yourself on my account. I am simply here to witness the healing of your daughter." Rotiaqua smiled over at Sulrad. She secretly hoped he would fail at his task. The more she saw of him, the more she disliked the man. She certainly didn't want him getting in the Baron's good graces.

  "Please bring the girl here." Sulrad motioned to the small divan near the interior courtyard.

  The wife snapped her fingers at the nearest servant. "My daughter!"

  "Yes, Ma'am." The servant bowed his head and backed out of the room. He returned shortly leading the girl by the hand and seated her on the divan, as requested.

  Sulrad stood before her. He held his hand up in front of her face. "Can you see my hand?"
/>   "Yes, I can."

  "How many fingers am I holding out?"

  "Two ... three ... I don't know." The girl huffed and turned her head to look at her father. Rotiaqua saw the milkiness of her eyes and knew the girl was nearly blind.

  Sulrad passed his staff before the girl's face, repeating unfamiliar words. Rotiaqua sensed the power rise up in him. Sulrad had a slight violet glow around him. Magic flowed from the Priest and wrapped around the girl. Rotiaqua felt the magic drain out of Sulrad as he healed the girl.

  Finally, Sulrad stopped his chanting and sat back. He looked drained and thinner; it must have been exhausting for him, the way he channeled power to the girl as he worked.

  "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked the girl again.

  Her face broke out in a smile. "I see three."

  The girl turned to her father. "Father. I can see again."

  She sprung from the couch and ran to her father. "I can see again."

  The merchant removed the gold chain from around his neck and made a big show of extending it to Sulrad. It was heavy and inlaid with precious stones. He held it out to place it around Sulrad's neck.

  "No, I do not need any adornment beyond these simple robes." Sulrad took the necklace and placed it in his pocket. Rotiaqua noticed that while he might not wear it, he certainly had no qualms about accepting it.

  Rotiaqua refused further hospitality from the family, who wanted to take the opportunity of a royal visitor to improve their standing in the neighborhood. Rotiaqua was slightly embarrassed that she had rushed out without proper dress.

  She returned to the castle and her bath, dressing properly before seeking out the Baron. She found him in his study, sitting beside a fire with a chalice full of wine and a book.

  "Well?" he said as she entered the room.

  She took a seat next to him and motioned the servant for a glass of wine. "He healed the girl. He also took a very expensive necklace as payment ... Well, not as payment, more of a gratuity, but he took it nonetheless."

  "Must look silly with those black robes he's determined to wear."