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The Warrior and the Wandering Wizard (The Way of the Wandering Wizard Series Book 2)

Page 1

by Michael Novak




  The Warrior

  and the

  Wandering

  Wizard

  MICHAEL E. NOVAK

  JOHN PAUL ADDIS

  FIRST EDITION

  Copyright © 2015 by Michael E. Novak & John Paul Addis

  All rights reserved.

  Book layout and cover designed by AE Press,

  a division of Addis Enterprises LLC.

  www.aenow.com

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-10: 0692602259

  ISBN-13: 978-0692602256 (AE Press)

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for your interest in our fantasy novel, the second of a trilogy, based on characters from the first but intended to be read on its own without need of reading The Way of the Wandering Wizard.

  We would like to encourage you to take the time and post a review on the website from which you purchased the book. Your participation in this would be greatly appreciated.

  We would love to hear comments and questions from you on our tale. Find us at:

  thewayofthewanderingwizardseries.weebly.com

  Michael E. Novak

  John Paul Addis

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  ADDENDUM

  DEDICATION

  To our families and friends and all the St. Paul and St. Brendan students who have taught us so much over the years.

  Thank you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The authors would like to express appreciation for the contributions of the many people who made this book possible. Our ex-boss Beth Burns, for her editing input and encouragement…Aubryn Samaroo of Brown University, for her detailed recommendations and assistance…John Kennedy Addis, for his excellent cover design…and a very special thank you to the Reilly family, who appear in this tale.

  Prologue

  Months earlier….

  Late on a starless, moonless night three black-robed rogue wizards, closely followed by a small group of rat-like minions, approach a fetid swamp that conceals a hidden cemetery for one.

  “Brother, beware of that plant. It will numb your senses if you touch its thorn.”

  “I know that. Do you take me for a fool?”

  As the putrid smell of rotting vegetation assails his nostrils, he thinks frantically why am I even here? I told them this would never work. This is mad folly that can only end in disaster. No one is looking. I could slip away and none would be the wiser.

  Sensing their brother’s unease, the two stop and confront their hesitant collaborator. The taller of the two says, “Need I remind you that we must all remain resolute and put our fears of the unknown aside?” This is more of a statement than a question.

  With a wild look, the other adds, “Focus on the unimaginable power that will be ours if we persevere.”

  Approaching the obdurate enchantment, the three raise their hands high above their heads and intone practiced, archaic words. This sixth consecutive night of ceremony is met with success. The spell shatters with the sound of broken glass.

  “It-it… I don’t believe it! The way has opened!”

  “It was only a matter of time, brother.”

  The three warily approach a small mound of gnarled wood and spike-like weeds. One of the Black Robes observes, “It is as if nature itself obscures what we seek.”

  The leader of the grave defilers commands the rats, “Clear the tomb.”

  With claw and teeth the filthy beasts tear at the wood and spike-grass until a stone sarcophagus appears. The brothers approach and, with their combined strength, slide back the heavy stone lid. A thick, foul fog billows from the murky depths of the tomb. One of the Black Robes directs another, “Summon the first gift.”

  The tremulous Black Robe holds his quivering hands above the gaping cavity. Insects approach from all sides, slowly at first: shiny, green, spindly things, black beetles, huge clicking cockroaches, flying horrors with stingers. Their numbers increase to hundreds. Thousands. They fill the open tomb.

  The wizards wait.

  Small, wet, popping noises fill the night air. The writhing mound of the miniature horde collapses into itself and is absorbed by the one lying in the tomb.

  “Summon the second gift.”

  Ancient words echo off the tombstone and mausoleum. Rats, mice, snakes of all sort appear, some carrying carrion of small fur animals in their dripping teeth and fangs. An eerie, clacking chittering fills the night air. Like lemmings of lore, the creatures fill the tomb, creating a sickening, squishing, splattering sound. The squirming heap collapses into itself and the thing inside the tomb assimilates its essence.

  And stirs.

  “Bring the final element.”

  The wizards are prepared. Four magnificent white horses are herded through the darkness, very much against their will. They are positioned around the tomb. The three dark-robed brothers slice the extraordinary beasts’ shanks and blood drains into the tomb like a crimson fountain. As it flows, the terrified creatures’ brilliant, white coats slowly fade to grey, then a deep, luxurious black.

  The Dark Knight rises from his grotesque grave and faces the horses, ignoring the kneeling, bowing, stammering Black Wizards. The horses try desperately to escape his penetrating gaze but are held fast in demonic enchantment.

  The apparition gently touches each steed’s flaring nostrils and inhales the essence of the creatures. He steps before the largest stallion.

  “I choose you,” he rasps and kisses the horse on its glistening forehead.

  One of the kneeling faints dead away.

  The herald is risen.

  Chapter 1

  A hooded figure slips silently into a dilapidated barn. He takes stock of his surroundings and his eyes find his target. With measured steps he approaches the unsuspecting body lying on a bed of straw. He crouches, and in quick succession strikes pressure points on his victim’s body, rendering it immobile. He then places one hand over the mouth of his prey, and with the other he searches and finds a dark blade. He leans very close, and whispers in the ear and the
whisper enters the mind. You are carrying this dark blade on you, Mikal Novastar from the great city of Addis, but the destiny of this blade is to be in you. Sleep, sleep…nevermore to rise. Mikal feels the blade enter his throat just below the chin… It is said that most dreams are not remembered, but that does not mean that they have not been dreamt.

  Mikal awakes with beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

  I cannot feel my arm. I must have slept on it.

  Mikal stiffly rolls over the straw on the floor of the barn. He opens his white, swirling eyes and wonders how long he has slept.

  Mikal tries to stand but instead crumbles to the ground. My legs are numb, as well. This is not good.

  He senses Majam and links with his familiar’s mind. The great white cat’s senses become his own. He sees through Majam’s eyes, hears with her ears, and he tastes fresh mouse.

  “I do not think I will ever get used to that taste, my friend,” he says on all fours facing the cat.

  Majam conveys to Mikal that it is an acquired taste and would be surprised if he were to appreciate the subtle nuances of the delicacy.

  Mikal finally rises fully and chuckles. He sees a ray of bright, early morning sunshine striking where his head had been. There are advantages of being blind.

  He imagines Majam proudly displaying the recent mouse that she caught.

  "Don't look so smug. With all the rodents that infest this barn, it must have been easy pickings."

  Majam does not respond.

  “I cannot believe I have been here over a week. This numbness in my legs and arm is most worrisome.”

  The door opens and Amadeus Whitestone, Mikal’s current mentor in the ways of a White Wizard, enters.

  “Good morning. I see you are a little unsteady on your feet. Here is your staff of light to lean upon.”

  Mikal thanks him and Whitestone continues, “My wife is preparing breakfast, after which there is a short journey we must undertake.”

  Mikal nods. “I do not know what I enjoy more: your wife’s cooking or your tutoring.”

  Amadeus laughs lightly. “I have been truly impressed with how quickly you have adapted to your situation, but, then again, you have achieved The Effulgence, a truly remarkable accomplishment. You know also that it is a very dangerous spell and you are fortunate to be alive, even though you have lost your sight.”

  “Not quite all,” Mikal responds. “I can still see somewhat in very bright light and I can see quite well though Majam’s eyes.”

  “A truly remarkable creature indeed. But now, let us eat.”

  ***

  After the morning meal, they set off on their short journey.

  Amadeus observes, “I see that you walk very well even when your cat Majam is not near to assist.”

  “You have to remember that Majam is a cat first and my familiar second. When something catches her eye, she is free to investigate, not that I could stop her. So I constantly try to anticipate what lies ahead and it becomes second nature. She seems to know when I do need her, though, and she is always but a thought away. I recognize that I am virtually blind and I cannot always rely on her as my crutch. I do have my staff of light and it also aids me with walking.”

  The Wizard Whitestone smiles. “I think that staff aids you in many ways.”

  The two continue in silence.

  At length, Mikal stops and says, “Amadeus, this path we are following seems familiar to me. I know I agreed not to ask many questions, but does it not lead to the elemental ruins where field trips from the school are often held?”

  “There is a field trip there today.”

  Mikal’s heart leaps into his throat.

  “My daughter…is there any chance…”

  Amadeus nods slightly. “If all unfolds as planned. But, Mikal, I caution you. The visit will be brief and you must remain from view and follow my instructions explicitly. Do you understand?”

  A wave of excitement and anticipation washes over Mikal.

  “Oh yes, yes, certainly. And I thank you. You do not know what…”

  “Do not thank me yet. Let us see how this all plays out.”

  Chapter 2

  Before the two reach their destination, they are interrupted by the sound of trumpets. Four heavily leathered, armored riders approach. They carry long, glistening spears and are closely followed by a ruggedly constructed wagon creaking under the weight it endures. Six powerful horses strain at their task. Two more guards lead a second wagon that carries several large jars with crests blazoned upon them suggesting they contain fine wine. Two more menacing riders pass and glare contemptuously at the wizards.

  Amadeus Whitestone quips, “It appears that someone will be celebrating tonight in the city of Addis. I doubt if we are invited.”

  Mikal responds grinning, “That is fortunate, for I am not comfortable at parties.”

  Amadeus chuckles. “I used to be quite the reveler, but, alas, no longer, I’m afraid. It takes far too long to recover at my age.”

  They eventually reach the outer wall of the element ruins. The structure had been massive and impressive at one time, but now is a crumbling ruin overrun by grass and weeds.

  “Now, Mikal, follow me and watch your footing.”

  The two friends come across a narrow, well-traveled path and find Majam sitting patiently, licking her front paw. The great cat lifts her twitching, pink nose toward one of the many wildflowers flanking the path.

  Mikal hesitates. “I smell jasmine and daffodils.”

  “You are correct, flowers are scattered all about. Your feline friend is here, as well.”

  “I know.”

  Amadeus and Mikal enter a small recess that is more or less intact. Amadeus closely examines the structure. He can make out flecks of worn, black and red paint. There are deep crevices in the wall, as if an ancient, powerful force had pounded the barrier over and over again in frustration. Minute fissures radiate in all directions like a barren valley’s dry riverbeds.

  “You must wait here, Mikal. Remain hidden, for the students would recognize you and ask awkward questions. If your presence were discovered by those who wish us ill, the school and the city itself could be threatened. I shall bring your daughter to you.”

  Master Whitestone weaves his way to the northern side of the ruins, followed by Majam, acting as Mikal’s eyes.

  He approaches a small group of students from the School of the Three Moons and catches the eye of the professor in charge. With a subtle signal the teacher acknowledges Master Whitestone.

  Amadeus greets him formally and asks, “May I impose upon one of your students? I have found a worn inscription on the wall in one of the western rooms and need young eyes to read it for me.”

  The leader of the group nods. “I think Alison the Swift here would be happy to oblige.”

  Amadeus thanks his collaborator. “I'm sure this won't take long. Now, young lady, please follow me. What you are looking for is near at hand.”

  A bewildered Mairin, also known as Allison the Swift, responds, “And what exactly is it I’m looking for?”

  ***

  “Father…Oh, Father!”

  The young girl is nearly overcome with emotion. Her heart pounding wildly, her eyes wide with disbelief, tears of joy and relief streaming down her cheeks, she runs to and desperately embraces her parent. She buries her face deep in his chest and sobs quietly as Mikal strokes her fire-red hair and soothes her.

  Finally able to speak, she reluctantly eases her embrace, afraid that he would be gone again if she were to let go completely, and manages to stutter, “I…I’ve missed you so much…and worried so long…and prayed so fervently that you be kept safe. There are so many rumors about you, some so fantastic I refuse to believe them.”

  She looks at Mikal’s weathered face, much older than she remembered.

  “Oh, Father, your eyes have lost their color, they are all so white.”

  She raises a hand as if to touch them. “Do they hurt? Can you see a
t all? I have so many questions. I…”

  “Hush. Hush, now. We have little time. I am fine… different… grown. I can only see in extreme bright light and even then not very well. But I do have my faithful cat Majam here, and through her eyes experience the world.”

  Mairin approaches the extraordinary animal, kneels, and strokes the luxurious, white fur on Majam’s head.

  “Father, she's beautiful.”

  “She thinks so, and I do, too.” They laugh and Majam meows and tosses her head.

  “He has written to me about you, but has not done you justice. I know you have protected him well. I thank you for that, and I am forever in your debt, oh faithful feline.”

  Majam bows slightly and rubs up against Mairin.

  “Is anyone else with you? Talon the half-elf?”

  “No…no one else,” Mikal answers. “I hope he will join me in the near future, but I have no guarantee.”

  He reaches down and gently helps Mairin to her feet. “Now tell me how you have fared, my daughter.”

  “School is crazy this year, Father. We know there are wild things happening. The worst is, no one knows for sure what’s real and what isn’t. The rumors abound. Talk of dark assassins and impending war and some say the headmaster has gone loony. We know the school is being watched for our own protection, but we don't like it. On the more mundane side, my classes are going well. I enjoy learning new spells and am starting to master more and more of them. I am surprised, though, that they let us out on this field trip. It's the first one in some time. But father, tell me again that all is well with you.”

  “I miss your mother and agonize over you. I too have been learning new spells. I guess one is never too old to learn. The gentleman who led you here… I have been spending time with and learning from him. I think, he will soon ask me to do something for him in return.

 

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