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

by Michael Novak

  “My daughter, you have grown so much in such a short time. Your mannerisms remind me of your mother, but your red hair and green eyes you received from your grandmother. You seem to represent all of the family so well. I pray for your future.” Mikal’s eyes begin to mist.

  “Father, the white streak in your hair adds an air of mystery about you. Just think; my father…a man of mystery! Who would have ever thought it? But you must tell me more about your adventures.”

  A high-pitched, urgent whistling pierces the air and they both start.

  Mikal asks, “What on earth is that irksome sound?”

  “That’s the warning signal. I must return at once to the group. I'm sorry but I have no choice. I don't want to go, but I must.”

  Mikal nods. “I understand. I love you. Hurry. Be careful.”

  The wizard kisses his daughter lightly on her forehead and watches her run from the ancient room.

  He asks his cat Majam to follow at a distance and allow him the use of her senses. With his cat leading the way, Mikal discretely follows his daughter through twists and turns, almost tripping over some loose rubble on the ground. He rights himself and is about to leave the cover of the ancient ruins when Master Whitestone appears in front of him.

  “I’m sorry, my friend, but you know you must not go out there. I don't believe your daughter or you are in any immediate danger, but quickly; we must return the way we came.”

  The two tread through the old ruins and eventually emerge into sunlight. They travel the wildflower path and descend a small hill.

  Mikal longingly stares back over his shoulder, a look of unease and concern wrinkling his brow. Amadeus assures him that all is well. Shortly the two White Wizards enter a clearing hidden in a small grove. A large boulder obscures them from the road.

  Exasperated, Mikal asks, “What is the purpose of all this?”

  “We await our informant and master spy.”

  As if on cue, Mikal hears someone approaching, whistling an unusual tune. When the sound is at its peak, Amadeus joins in the melody. The whistling stops, and through Majam's eyes, Mikal watches a man dressed in light-colored clothes and a fashionable hood cautiously peer around the bolder. Satisfied, he approaches and bows slightly to Amadeus, all the while eyeing Mikal suspiciously.

  The older wizard waves his hand impatiently.

  “This is Melchior Brightstar, and you have my word that he can be trusted beyond reproach with anything you have to say. What have you learned?”

  The informant explains, “A man who claimed he shares your last name of Whitestone was attacked and slightly wounded by a would-be assassin on the outskirts of the ruins. The inept perpetrator was quickly apprehended and is in custody. The one who calls himself Whitestone is being administered to at the Temple, and the students, who saw none of this, have returned to their school. I assure you none of them were harmed in any way.”

  Amadeus thanks the man and turns to Melchior. “We must be on our way.”

  The two wizards make quick time and talk little.

  ***

  Eventually, they arrive at Master Whitestone's farm. Amadeus slows his gait and says, “The man who was attacked introduced himself to me months ago, claiming he was some distant relative. I had no reason to believe him and I told him I know of no family connection and that the name could prove problematic for him. Nevertheless, he introduced himself to many people using the name. I think he thought it could open doors for him or bring him prestige. Again, I warned him that this was not wise and if his name was in truth Whitestone, it would be better if he didn't declare it everywhere. He laughed at me.

  “I don’t think he realizes that the dark assassins associate my name with White Wizardry and have spies everywhere. Fortunately, there are many charms and protective spells about my farm and it would be extremely difficult for anyone to spy on us while we are here.”

  The old wizard notices a look of deep concern and consternation on Mikal’s face. “My dear friend, do not worry so. Know that your daughter is safe. You are fortunate that no one saw you, or that might not be the case.”

  Mikal nods and says, “I thank you for allowing me to meet with my daughter.”

  Amadeus responds, “I'm sorry you could not have stayed longer with her. Now please come into my house. There is one last thing for us to do.”

  When they enter the well-built farmhouse, Mrs. Whitestone is nowhere to be found.

  “Mikal, please sit and try to relax.”

  Amadeus places his left hand over Mikal's forehead and eyes, the other on his friend’s heart. The White Wizard recites a few words, and then repeats them. Mikal feels familiar, mystical energy enter him and, with his mind's eye, he starts to see images. Like a book being opened before him, but not quite a book. He starts to make out an impression of someone. There are words written he can almost read. Then they are gone, and other images take their place. Again, Mikal is about to understand what it is he sees but that vision fades and another appears. The process speeds up as more and more images flash through his mind and are gone before Mikal can distinguish anything clearly. Then the book that is not a book closes.

  Amadeus steps back. Mikal looks up at him and asks, “What is it I saw? It was too fast. I do not remember any of it plainly.”

  Master Whitestone smiles. “You have received secretive information about every White Wizard in the land.”

  Mikal shakes his head. “Something must be wrong. I saw but I can recall none of it.”

  Amadeus nods. “That is not entirely true. You should remember one impression.”

  Mikal closes his eyes. “Yes. I do remember something: your picture, information about you, your preferences of agricultural techniques, your areas of expertise. How do I know these things?”

  Whitestone explains, “The truth is, the mind remembers everything it has ever experienced. The art is to bring what your mind contains to the surface. I have fixed esoteric knowledge deep in your sub-conscience. What you saw, you now know. This information will not rise to your consciousness until you are in the presence of another White Wizard. You then will know who they are as they will know who you are. The spell connects all of us. In exceptional circumstances, if one of us needs assistance, we are all joined. We are then able to share some of our magic power with our brethren. But I warn you, only use this in extreme circumstances. You can put all of us at risk. With this last spell, I have nothing further to pass along to you. Your training is complete and I welcome you fully into the ranks of the White Wizards.”

  Mikal stands. He places his hands upon Amadeus Whitestone’s shoulders.

  “I thank you and I am honored by the gifts you share with me.”

  “Now, Mikal, tell me what you know of the Witches of Endorr.”

  Chapter 3

  “What do you know of the Witches of Endorr? Well, I'm waiting, you have shown promise, and you have requested more challenging tasks to prove that you are worthy of advancement. Tell me, Damien.”

  Somewhere in a red tower just outside the walls of the dark city of Umbra, behind a large ornate desk, sits a red-robed Grand Master Wizard. He is flanked by two impressive, scarlet cardinals. They to seem to be scrutinizing the two eager, young men.

  “Master Bloodhue, I know they are a group of females that split from the Black Robes years ago. They have been looking to prove themselves. They claim to foretell the future, soothsayers and such. Oh, they are supposed to be very beautiful, and mesmerize men. I suspect there are potions and enchantments at work there. I believe they are a coven of women trying to achieve fortune and fame. Why do we concern ourselves with that ilk?”

  Path Bloodhue stares at the young man. “They claim to have a crucial prophecy that will affect all the land and will…”

  “And you believe them?” Damien interrupts.

  Master Bloodhue stands, hands on desk. “Do not interrupt me again, boy, or you will be assigned back to an acolyte this very day.” He calms a bit. “The witches would not make
this bold statement if there were not some truth to it. It would be the ruin of them if it was proved false. They have sent out invitations to select groups, cities, and nobility. Exactly how significant it is, I intend to find out.”

  Damien bows. “I apologize. I will leave and hear their prophecy.”

  Path sits back down and laughs. “You would not last a minute under their alluring gaze. I'm willing to bet within an hour of their presence you would renounce yourself as a Red Wizard and join them as one of their many male subordinates. You will not enter their main tent. No, you are to escort Master Gallium. He will record everything that is said.”

  Damien responds, “I apologize again, but Master Gallium is very old and will need assistance.”

  “Then you will assist him in every way. Besides, his old age is a natural resistance to the female charms.” Path chuckles. “Yes, he will do just fine. But, my eager young associate, this will be Master Gallium's last assignment. He has outlived his usefulness and his old age and arrogance have bothered me once too often. You are to make sure he has recorded everything. You may even ask him what this prophecy is, before you eliminate him.”

  An eager smile slowly spreads across Damien’s face. “I shall burn him slowly. He will be forced to endure much pain.”

  Master Bloodhue shakes his head and pounds his fist emphatically on the desk top. “No! You will not. He is still a Master Red Robe. The kill should be swift and painless. Then burn his remains and leave no trace.” He stands. “Wait here.”

  Path turns to the second young man who stands before him and takes a moment to scrutinize this candidate. He wears his long, dark hair held back with a red tie with a red feather attached to it. Master Bloodhue knows this is in style but he does not like it. The young man is clean-shaven almost to a fault and he relishes a sharp blade. Aden Ferrum’s dark eyes stare down, but not quite to the floor. Path wonders a sign of respect or insolence?

  The clean-shaven one’s leather jerkin is expensive and well maintained. Its short sleeves reveal well defined muscles. His wrist braces are finely polished and made of steel with the flame symbol intricately carved upon them. On his right hand he sports a gold ring enhanced with an expensive ruby. His leather, knee-high boots are worn but well maintained and have steel shin reinforcements. What impresses Path Bloodhue the most, however, is that he carries his short flame staff just above the floor. Even though it is just over three feet long and made of iron, it weighs well over twenty pounds. This weapon is a young Red Wizard’s lifeline. A talented wizard can create a myriad of weapons with this short flame staff.

  “Aden Ferrum, tell me what you know about White Wizards?”

  Aden's eyes lift to meet Path's. He shrugs his shoulders and scoffs, “A colored robe, few in numbers with little power.”

  Master Bloodhue asks, “How do you know this?”

  Aden replies, “It is what I've heard.”

  Path nods his head. “Yes, this is what most believe but I am not so convinced. There are no facts or evidence to back up your claim. In fact, recently there was an incident: an impressive display of power achieved by what I believe was a White Wizard. Also, how do we know they are few in number? Maybe they are many but well hidden. I do not like not knowing who my opponents are and their capabilities. This is where you come in, Aden. I have knowledge of that White Wizard. As soon as I can locate him, you are to track him and uncover everything about him.”

  “Then can I kill him?”

  “No, not without my specific instructions. You are to join him. Gain his trust, watch and study him carefully.”

  “This is below my station, to work with a lesser color.”

  Master Bloodhue commands, “You are to follow my orders without question. You will travel with him using any guise you choose. I don't care if you become a servant or even a slave. But you will gain his trust and learn from him. I will send contacts to you so you can pass on relevant information. But you are not to harm him unless his way crosses my path. Do you understand?”

  Aden Ferrum clenches his fist but bows his head. “Your will is my will. It shall be done.”

  “Excellent. His name is Mikal Novastar from the city of Addis. He may be traveling under the alias Melchior Brightstar. Nevertheless, my associates are searching for him as we speak and I am confident we will soon have his location. So prepare yourselves. These will be challenging tasks. Make sure that you are up to them and do not fail me. Now both of you leave.”

  ***

  “The Witches of Endorr? Well, Amadeus, if I remember my lore, a little more than ten years ago a group of female wizards, colored and non-colored robes alike, separated from their former consortia to form, oh, I don’t know, a sisterhood of a sort. If I remember correctly, they felt restricted in their prior positions so they began to carve out their own separate destinies. Quite impressive really. I believe they specialize in potions and herbal remedies. I understand they can foretell the future, a claim used far too often in my opinion. Of course, there are also rumors of their beauty and, if they so desire, they can bewitch any man. A few years ago they camped at the Valley of Endorr. No one seemed to discredit their claim, so there they remain. Why do you ask?”

  “Mikal, they sent out a multitude of couriers with a curious invitation. They asked that all their contacts send a representative to their Valley. Recently they received an ominous prophecy that they allege will affect the whole land. It is important for everyone to hear it.”

  “I wonder,” Mikal asks, “What is their payment for this revelation?”

  “That is also very interesting. All payments will vary and be collected upon arrival. You seem doubtful of their claim, my friend.”

  “Again, too often I have heard too many profess the gift of prophecy, but few have actually been blessed with it.”

  “I understand your hesitation but I believe we cannot ignore the summons. I would like to send you as the White Robes’ representative.”

  Mikal questions, “Would that not divulge our identity?”

  “I don't think so. There are special arrangements in place for secrecy. There is one contact for each group that wants to, how shall I say this, remain hidden. Our special password is ‘Aurum’. So I'm asking you. Are you willing to go to the Valley of Endorr?”

  “Are you sending me because you believe my blindness will protect me from their charms?” Mikal asks, with a twinkle in his white eyes.

  “Perhaps, but I also think you will be a fine representative of our assemblage.”

  “But I was hoping to meet up with Talon.”

  “Yes, I know. If all goes well, you will be back in time to do so. Travel to the town of Ulna and leave a message there for him. I estimate it will take you four days to travel to the Valley. The revealing of the prophecy is in five, so you should have sufficient time. If you desire, upon your return, send a message from the town and I will meet you there. Is this acceptable?”

  “If you ask, Master Whitestone, how can I refuse? I will leave in the morning.”

  Chapter 4

  Mikal and his cat Majam look up to the sky. It is overcast and the clouds are moving by rapidly, but Mikal does not believe it is going to rain. He makes good time because he knows where he is going, yet remembers how tentative he was when he first walked this path.

  After some time, the woods start to thicken. Late in the day, he eventually approaches the small settlement of Ulna. A resident notices Mikal and gives him a nod and a smile then continues on his way. Mikal is happy to see a light burning in the main house. He knocks and enters the building. Sitting at a heavy, wooden table are William the Blue and other residents of the town of Ulna. William looks up and smiles.

  “Traveler Mikal, you are just in time for dinner! Welcome.”

  Mikal can smell the various foods about to be served. Majam jumps into Mikal's arms. Through her eyes, he finds a vacant seat. He thanks his host and starts to eat, realizing how hungry he has become.

  He listens to conversations about da
ily chores and personal responsibilities and answers many questions about his travels. The main door opens and in walks Jocomund the Squirrel Master with two small rabbits that he offers to the cook. The cook accepts them but gives a questioning look of ‘what am I supposed to do with these two small cottontails?’.

  Jocomund sits and starts in on his meal and only then does he notice Mikal. He gives him a heartfelt greeting. After the meal, tomorrow’s chores are discussed, and then more than a few residents ask Mikal for a story. He respectfully declines, claiming fatigue. Mikal is offered a bed in the main building and gladly accepts. He and Majam spend a restful night.

  ***

  Early the next morning, most have gone their own way. Mikal, with Majam by his side, continues his journey to the Valley of Endorr. Majam meows and looks to her right. Through her eyes, Mikal sees Jocomund walking in the forest, pacing them.

  “Jocomund, welcome. Come walk with us. Any news about the hermit?”

  “No, I have not seen him for a number of days.”

  The three stop and, obscured by the woods, they glimpse a very shaggy animal walking oddly on all fours, producing peculiar noises. One moment it sounds like a bird of prey, next a small rodent. The creature suddenly stops, turns on its spine, and lays there with its four legs pointing straight to the sky. It holds this position for a surprisingly long, uncomfortable time. Then, unexpectedly, it jumps up on its hind legs and roars like a deranged bear, scattering small rodents and birds. It then returns to all fours and continues toward them with an unorthodox gait. Mikal can make out something: a piece of cloth tied around the creature’s eyes.

  “Jocomund, it looks like it is blindfolded.”

  Majam meows and runs through the woods straight at the furry creature.

  Mikal asks, “Is that the hermit? The Mad Plunket?”

  Not surprisingly, the hairy creature runs face-first into a tree. It raises its left hand and partially lifts up the blindfold and sneaks a peek, seeking a safer route. Majam pulls up and sits before the hermit and produces a greeting mew. The hairy creature falls to the ground and mimics the cat’s meow. Mikal and Jocomund approach the two. Mikal notices at least two small birds fly into the hermit’s thick, matted hair. The wizard chuckles. Unfortunately, he has seen this before.