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

by Michael Novak

  The early morning light awakens the pair. They break camp and set out on the main road. Sometime near midmorning, Mikal hears what must be a wagon approaching. He steps off the road and, using his cat’s sight, notices two merchants bringing their wares undoubtedly to the city. Mikal waves and the two return pleasant nods. Within minutes the wagon is out of sight. A short time later, four horsemen gallop by, dressed in impeccable uniforms. The wizard looks to his cat and comments, “This road seems safe enough.”

  Just after noon, Mikal steps off the road to take a short break. He heats water and brews tea. Majam looks up and meows a warning. The White Wizard hears a lone rider approach. The man is sitting tall in the saddle, looking to the right and left. His gaze catches Mikal and his cat as he rides by. He pulls up, and turns his horse toward the wizard. The equine approaches slowly. Mikal notices lather around the creature’s mouth and that the steed’s breathing is labored.

  Looking down from his high horse, the stranger says, “Good afternoon, Mikal Novastar from the city of Addis. I have been searching for you. My name is Aden Ferrum. I am at your service.”

  “And what service is this?” Mikal asks.

  Aden stares. “Oh, a traveling companion or your bodyguard perhaps.”

  “I do not require either, thank you. Who sent you?”

  Aden dismounts and takes a closer look at Mikal.

  “What is wrong with your eyes? Are you blind?”

  The mage responds, “In some ways but not in others. Again, who has sent you?”

  The wizard notices a red feather tied to Ferrum’s long, dark hair and the ruby ring he wears. The stranger looks to Majam.

  “My, but that is a large cat you have. I never had the need for a pet.”

  “She is far more than a pet.”

  “If you say so.”

  Mikal notices a short, metal staff that Aden carries on his back.

  “Is that a magical rod?”

  “It is, indeed.”

  Aden proudly displays the iron staff to Mikal. The wizard can read some of the runes etched upon it.

  “You are obviously a Red Wizard. Path Bloodhue has sent you, has he not?”

  Aden lowers his gazes slightly. “You are perceptive. In fact he did.”

  “With orders to spy on me.”

  “No, that’s not the reason.”

  “Oh, really. Then tell me, why you are here?”

  The Red Wizard contemplates his answer.

  “I committed a serious transgression recently and my punishment is to seek you out and become your…” Aden hesitates, “… servant for a time.”

  “For how long, may I ask?”

  “Bloodhue was vague on that matter.”

  Mikal laughs slightly. “It does sound like something Path would do. Go back, I neither need nor want a servant.”

  Aden protests, “But you must. I cannot return until I have atoned for my misdeeds.”

  “I am sorry,” the White Wizard responds, “but I do not believe you.”

  The Red Wizard stands tall. “I have told you the truth. Why do you doubt me?” Mikal straightens up, holds onto his staff of light, and, with Majam’s sight, looks intently at Aden.

  “I believe you have mixed the truth with lies. I have no need of you. Be gone.”

  The two wizards hold their gaze for some time. Finally, Aden Ferrum lowers his eyes and challenges, “I will not leave. You cannot prevent me from following you.”

  Mikal says nothing, but gathers his few belongings and starts down the road.

  ***

  Mikal travels at his own pace, with his cat to guide him. The Red Wizard leads his horse not far behind. This goes on for more than an hour. The path starts to dip toward a small river. Mikal is dismayed, for the bridge is washed out and the water is running high.

  The White Wizard looks to his cat. “It looks as if the effects of the storm are still slowing us down. I think I can wade through with the aid of my staff.”

  Aden Ferrum approaches. “Well, it looks like you do need my help after all, white eyes.”

  Mikal does not respond but steps into the rapidly flowing river.

  Aden protests, “My horse can carry us. You need not get soaking wet.“

  With Majam on his shoulders, Mikal wades into the river. Soon the water is waist high. Mikal is startled when Aden’s horse splashes by. Just pass midstream, the rider waits and proffers his arm. The White Wizard takes no notice and continues.

  The Red Wizard laughs. “Aren’t you the obstinate one. I like that. But now you will be cold and wet.”

  Mikal almost falls but catches himself in time, to his and his cat’s relief. Majam’s claws dig a little deeper into the wizard’s shoulders. He finally steps out of the river and removes his traveling cloak. He wrings out some of the river water. Suddenly, a piece of driftwood bursts into flame.

  Mikal jumps and Aden explains, “I thought you would want to warm yourself by my fire.” Immediately, the White Wizard grabs his dripping cloak and continues down the road.

  Again, he hears the Red Wizard’s condescending laugh.

  Mikal tries to maintain a good pace but he knows the Red Wizard is not far behind. Another main road crosses their path. He is forced to step aside as a small caravan of goods heads toward the city of Stonegrove. Neither the wagon drivers nor guards pay Mikal notice. The White Wizard is surprised, though, that a few sentries give the Red Wizard long, serious looks. The last wagon eventually passes. Oddly, there is a bell hanging from it that produces a peculiar, melodious sound. Majam seems to enjoy it.

  ***

  With the warmth of the day, Mikal's clothes start to dry.

  “I believe we are not that far from our destination. With luck, we may reach it by nightfall. What do you think, Majam?”

  The cat does not respond but continues down the road, sniffing different odors along the way. A lone rider hurriedly gallops by, riding a chestnut mare.

  “It looks like another courier. I wonder what his destination is.”

  Mikal decides to take a short respite. He sits on a fallen log and unpacks some fruit given to him by Martha, the old woman healer. Majam keeps an eye on a flitting butterfly, with beautiful, identical, blood-red wings fluttering around a nearby flower. Mikal ignores Aden Ferrum even though he knows he is close by. Again Mikal is alerted by the sound of horses approaching. This time at a far more leisurely pace. Three horsemen slowly approach Mikal. The White Wizard discerns that the oldest man is a successful merchant with a guard by his side and a servant riding close behind.

  The older man hails Mikal. “Good Sir, how does the road look ahead?”

  On closer inspection, he notices Mikal's white eyes. “I'm sorry. I did not know you were blind.”

  The White Wizard chuckles softly. “Oh, think nothing of it. The road is generally fine but if you are heading south there is a bridge that is washed out.”

  “I thank you for the information. Here is a silver piece for it. I hope you have safe travel.”

  Mikal accepts the coin and nods to the merchant and his associates. The three smile and continue on their way.

  “They seem nice enough, don't they, Majam?” The White Wizard rises and, with his staff in hand, continues his journey. A short time later, his cat notices two large scavenging birds circling just off the road. Majam suddenly stops and faces toward a small clump of trees.

  Mikal asks, “What is it?” and easily slips into the mind of his cat.

  “Yes, I do smell it. It reeks of blood and death.”

  With the cat’s enhanced hearing, he can make out a weak moan. “Does someone need our help?”

  With his cat to lead him, he cautiously leaves the road and crosses some tall grass and approaches the clump of trees. Mikal holds his hand to his nose. A putrid odor assaults his senses. Cautiously, he proceeds. The White Wizard turns his head and winces at what he sees. A lump of broken flesh lies before him. He forces himself to inspect the grotesque site. At first he believes he is looking
at a short man with very thick, fleshy arms and legs. This broken creature has a heavy, long, dark, blood-drenched beard. Mikal wonders how the previous riders could have ignored such a piteous sight.

  “Am I looking at a dwarf?”

  The creature’s left arm is crooked and broken in a distorted, misshapen manner. Most of the body is covered with black and blue welts, swelling his body to strange proportions; strange for even a dwarf. The left side of the head looks as if it has been dented. Dried blood is caked around head wound and it is leaking pus. His face looks as if it is an off-centered Cyclops’, due to the fact that there is a distorted, seeping swelling just above where the left eye should be. A piece of broken wood protrudes from the right side of his stomach. Blood still leaks from it. His legs do not appear to be broken, but they are black and blue, with a multitude of tiny bites covering them. Mikal wonders if this broken creature is still alive. His cat moves closer and meows near the dwarf’s right ear. The right eyelid flutters.

  “By all that is holy and not, he lives.”

  Aden Ferrum approaches. “What have you found here? Oh, it's a dead dwarf. I can tell just by the smell,” he snorts and makes a face of distaste.

  Mikal quickly rebukes, “He is not dead.”

  Aden scoffs. “Well, he should be. He offends my senses. Look at it. It is too stubborn and stupid to know that it should be dead. You cannot save it. Besides the land would probably be better if you left it alone.”

  Mikal ignores the Red Wizard then takes out a potent healing potion he received from Amadeus Whitestone. With difficulty, he opens the wounded dwarf’s swollen mouth, and pours in the healing brew.

  Mikal leans back. “He is so cold to the touch. He needs warmth.” The White Wizard starts to take off his traveling cloak. Unexpectedly, a flame surrounds the broken creature.

  Mikal, startled, yells, “What are you doing?”

  Aden explains that it is his flame and it will only produce heat, not burn the creature.

  “Go ahead you may test it. I will not allow it to harm you.”

  Mikal suppresses his amazement and cautiously touches the flame. It does not burn. He places one hand on the dwarf’s head the other over his barely-beating heart. He closes his eyes and recites his most powerful healing spell. A soft, white light emanates from the White Wizard's hands. A frail moan escapes the wounded one’s mouth. Mikal sits next to his patient with Majam on his lap and waits.

  “Okay, now that that's done, let's be on our way,” says the Red Wizard.

  The healing mage looks up and responds, “We cannot leave him. In fact, if he lives I will need your horse.”

  Aden responds, appalled, “Oh, so you don't need me but you need my horse. You also may thank me for my warming fire. If you want my horse you must also accept me.”

  Mikal begrudgingly nods his head. “I will accept your horse and you as my servant for short period of time.”

  The Red Wizard gives a slight bow and a sarcastic, “I am at your service, White Wizard.”

  “I believe he is improving; his color is better. Though I am not sure what a healthy color is for a dwarf. His breathing is definitely more even,” Mikal says hopefully.

  Aden concurs. “You know, you still have to take out that large splinter from his stomach. And good luck with that mangled arm.”

  Mikal closely inspects the stomach wound. “I hope a barbed metal piece is not attached to the wood. In any case, I intend to pull it out with my right hand. With my left, I will heal what I can. Are you capable of cauterizing the wound?”

  The Red Wizard scoffs and lowers his iron staff just above the oozing gash.

  “I’ll show you what I'm capable of. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to burning some dwarf flesh.”

  Mikal gives Aden a serious look then sets himself to task. Gently at first, he moves the large spike back and forth then forcibly pulls it straight out. Luckily, there is no barbed tip to it. Without hesitation, his left hand starts to administer a localized healing. To his dismay, however, the open wound begins to bleed more profusely. The Red Wizard’s iron staff flares and the smell of burning flesh fills the air. Mikal quickly pulls back his hands. The flame ceases and, to Mikal's relief, the wound is sealed.

  The Red Wizard steps back. “Well, that was easy. What are you to do about that mangled left arm?”

  “I am not sure. It looks like the bones are shattered. Will you try to set the arm correctly while I attempt the concentrated healing incantation again?”

  Aden grips the dwarf’s left arm and pulls and twists until it looks like it is in a normal position. Mikal starts his enchantment, when suddenly; the dwarf sits up and screams in agony. The healing wizard steps forward and immediately recites a sleep spell. The wounded creature falls slowly into a deep slumber. Mikal then administers the healing incantation to the arm.

  “We cannot wait much longer. I want to move him before dark. The recovery is taking effect but very slowly.”

  Aden nods. “That is because dwarves are resistant to magic. I told you they are stubborn, even when they aren't conscious, which they are most of the time.”

  Mikal orders, “Give him water. I’m beginning to think he might indeed survive.”

  The two wizards wait a short time and, with some difficulty and protests from Aden, place the battered dwarf on the horse. They make slow progress as the sun starts to set.

  “Well, Mikal, if I am to be your servant, I should know more about you. What can you tell me about being a White Robe Wizard, which I deem an inferior color?”

  Mikal does not look at Aden Ferrum. “I presume you consider all other colors inferior to yours.”

  “Of course I do, for I know Red Wizards are the most talented and powerful wizards of them all.”

  Mikal responds, “And how do you know this?”

  “Oh, it's common knowledge to all that have seen our power.” He points ahead and asks, “Is that some sort of inn ahead?”

  Within minutes they stand before a small, two-story tavern. The name The Broken Pony is carved into an old, wooden, weathered sign that hangs above the door.

  Aden chuckles. “It seems like a appropriate name.”

  Mikal asks Aden to stay with the wounded dwarf and his horse.

  “I will go in and make arrangements.”

  The White Wizard enters the old inn. He holds his staff in his right hand and cradles his cat in his left. The dining room is not crowded.

  “There may be a room for us, Majam.”

  Within minutes, Mikal helps lower the unconscious dwarf from the horse. The two wizards carry their wounded charge into the inn. Everyone stares at the three, but especially at the battered dwarf. The innkeeper waves a wrinkled, dirty towel.

  “Hey, you didn’t say you had a wounded one of those. I don't want a filthy dwarf in my inn.”

  The White Wizard looks to the innkeeper. “I will pay you double and will leave first thing in the morning.”

  The proprietor looks at the two wizards. “Well, keep him quiet and be gone early.”

  Luckily their room is on the first floor. They place the mangled dwarf heavily on the bed. Mikal inspects the damaged creature.

  Aden says, “I want to talk to the innkeeper. I'll get some food and water for us.”

  The Red Wizard goes behind the counter and approaches and confronts the innkeeper. “My good fellow, I may agree with your feelings toward our wounded gnome, but I must point out with whom you are dealing. When a wizard of color is kind enough to ask you for anything, you respond always with yes, sir. You will not question your betters.”

  Suddenly the Red Wizard’s iron rod flares to life. An orange, hot flame surrounds it.

  “See this? With a mere whim I can burn this hovel down with everyone in it in a matter of minutes. What would you do then, my good man? We will not pay double for the room. Do we understand each other?”

  The flustered innkeeper stammers and nods his head.

  “Now bring us food and water. Hot soup, if
you have it.”

  ***

  There is a knock at the two wizards’ door. A serving girl and a young boy enter, carrying food, water, and some hot soup. They set it down on a small table and leave without saying a word. Aden eagerly takes something to drink and starts eating. Mikal props up the dwarf on the bed and attempts to feed him some hot soup. The weakened dwarf's eyes slowly open and close.

  The Red Wizard looks to Mikal. “It’s obvious you’ve never seen a dwarf eat before, have you?” Aden stands, grabs the bowl of hot soup, places it on the lips of the dwarf, and aggressively pours it down wounded one’s throat. It is gone in an instant.

  He hands the empty bowl to Mikal. “That is how dwarves eat. Now, why don’t you eat and drink, as well. You must be positively weak from hunger.”

  Mikal nods and takes part in the small feast.

  “My good servant Aden, tell me what makes you such an expert on dwarves?”

  Aden Ferrum shakes his head. “Dwarves work in the mines for us. They dig for metal and precious stones. We even let a select few forge some of our weapons. When I was younger I was a supervisor in one of the mines for almost a year. Yes, I know dwarves. Maybe too well. They are a sub race, fit only for the mines, and they should not be allowed to travel the lands like normal folk. You know, they all are cowards and cannot be trusted.”

  Mikal responds, “I know of that perception, but how much of it is accurate, I do not know.”

  Aden scoffs. “Oh, believe me it is true. For what I have seen of them, there is no doubt.”

  “Well, I am not sure what to believe, except that I am tired and we all need some rest. Good night.”

  ***

  Just before dawn, Mikal is awakened by his cat who is perched upon his chest. She meows once, hops over to the dwarf’s bed, and sniffs his left hand.

  The White Wizard rises. “What do you smell, Majam?” Mikal inspects the dwarf’s left wrist. “Oh my, is that gangrene?”

  Mikal slips into the cat‘s mind. It smells bad, like death.

  The White Wizard also detects a noxious odor. The Red Wizard awakens from his slumber and looks over Mikal’s shoulder.