Master Holten almost dropped the tome he had been stretching to retrieve from an upper shelf. “You were what?”
“A bear killed a man right before my eyes while I was in the forest today.” Kevon clutched his stomach as the images suppressed by monotonous tasks resurfaced. “I… there was nothing I…”
Holten put the book on the table by his reading chair and moved forward to steady his apprentice, who was beginning to wobble. “Here now, come, sit.” Holten guided Kevon to another chair and eased him down into it.
Kevon sat for a moment, snuffling softly.
Holten seated himself and filled his pipe with a pinch of herbs from a small pouch. He puffed a few times, lighting the mix with a magical spark. He sighed. “Did you know the man?” Holten asked. “No… Speak of it when you can.” Kevon’s Master sat quietly, enjoying his pipe.
Kevon shook his head. “No, he was not from the valley. I think he was a Warrior.” Kevon produced the amulet from his tunic pocket. “He gave this to me, and tried to tell me who to take…”
Kevon choked on his words, grief mixing with fear from the encounter, the memory of touching the forbidden blade, and worry about his Master finding out.
Holten’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of the amulet.
“There was a Merchant in town traveling with an escort. Perhaps he was with them. They are gone now, some hours ago, I think.” Holten stood slowly. “I’m going for my evening walk. I’ll be back to tend the potions. Get some rest. I’ll have Martin bring dinner to your room.”
Holten paused at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “We’ll speak more of this tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
Morning came far too soon. By the time Kevon had finished tending the potions, he was tempted to try the cure-all to ease the aches and pains that the previous day’s labor had brought upon him.
Instead, he found himself heading to the kitchen to fetch a slice of goose from the cold-box. Martin already had the bones boiling in a pot for soup, but that was far from ready. Kevon chose two of the half-dozen portions stacked in the corner of the box. He broke off an end of one of the flat loaves of bread that lined the other end.
Kevon made his way out the back door and walked to the corner of the house to catch the morning sun. He sat on a short stone stool and contemplated the stream that bubbled happily and wound its way down into the valley. Kevon ate slowly, having no pressing duties. The potions were fine until mid-afternoon, Martin had the other chores well in hand, and Master Holten was nowhere to be found.
Hiss mouth suddenly went dry. What if Holten was with the Town Council now? Kevon had handled the matter yesterday with nothing but respect, as well as he knew how. But how might it seem to someone who was not there, who did not witness the entire affair? Although Kevon was sure he had done no wrong, he had seen the Council do things before that did not seem fitting. What if they…
“Kevon.”
Kevon’s hand jerked involuntarily and he dropped the end of bread he had been chewing on into the dirt.
Martin sighed loudly. “Don’t eat it then. But don’t waste it. It’s not as bad as last week’s batch.”
“Sorry. Sorry I… You just startled…” Kevon began.
“It’s all right,” Martin smiled. “I’ll just use it for fish bait. Master’s given me the afternoon, and he wants to see you straightaway. He just got back.”
Martin lifted his willow-wood pole off its hanging hooks and stuffed the crust of bread into the small knapsack he was carrying. “See you later, Kevon.”
As he turned to go, Martin paused. “The Master’s upset,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure what about, but he’s trying not to show it.”
Kevon stood silently as Martin hiked down along the stream into the valley, whistling a cheery tune. He straightened himself up, took a deep breath to regain his composure, and went back inside.
He found Master Holten in his study, sorting through scrolls and books, muttering to himself. Holten decided on two large volumes, and placed them carefully in his Traveling Tome. The thin leather book was magically fused with a locked chest Holten kept atop one of the other bookshelves. The Enchantment was done long ago, with skill beyond what any known Mage could do now.
Holten tied the thin leather fastenings together to secure his selections in the Tome, and dropped it into the pocket of his robe.
“Ahh.” Holten started as he turned and noticed Kevon standing in the doorway. “There you are. How are you feeling?”
Kevon thought for a moment. “Weary.” he decided.
“Mmm.” Holten nodded. “To be expected. Certainly.”
“Master…” Kevon began slowly. “Did I do right yesterday? Have you spoken to the Council about…?”
“Faugh!” Holten burst out. “That Council has nothing to say about the well intentioned actions of a Journeyman of the Mage’s Guild.” Holten paused for a moment as Kevon’s eyes widened and the younger man steadied himself on the threshold of the door. “Yes, I’m promoting you.” Holten continued. “I’ve been putting it off in hopes you would shift your studies to a more practical Art, but your skills are more than sufficient.”
“Master- I…” Kevon stammered. “Thank you!”
“Well, don’t put the cart before the horse. This is more sudden than I had expected as well.” Holten began. “I’ve not acquired your new robes yet. I’ve no time to do it now, either. Word came yesterday that I am needed on Guild business on the other end of the Realm. I’m leaving today, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Kevon remained silent, unable to think of anything useful to say, and stood there, gaping.
“I do have a letter of introduction to another Wizard that might help further your studies.” Holten continued after a brief silence. “I also have a book of his that needs returned. If you would return it to him, you would be able to study it on the way.”
The fact that Kevon was going to be traveling the world, in one direction or another, in a very short time, was beginning to sink in. His eyes widened further, if possible.
“Where does he live?” Kevon fairly blurted. “Of course I’ll return the book! Who is he? What Arts does he teach? What…”
“Hold on.” Holten broke in. “I have everything you will need packed. The book, letter, and directions are all bundled in your spare cloak.” Holten withdrew a small pouch from a pocket and handed it to Kevon. “This should more than cover the cost of your robes when you reach the Inner Cities. From West Thaddington, you should be able to head west to reach Gurlin’s Tower.”
Kevon held the pouch close to him for a moment before placing it in a pocket of his own. The contents were too light to feel, and made no noise. Kevon had no idea what the pouch held, but decided to wait to find out.
“And Gurlin’s Arts?” Kevon asked. “What does he teach?”
“The last I knew, he taught Summoning and Enhancement.” Holten replied. “The volume I am returning is an overview of Enhancement, his personal views and experiences. His Summoning is more impressive though, as I recall. When we were younger, studying under the same Master, he once managed an Extraplanar Summoning. It was all the two of us could do to Control the beast until our Master arrived and destroyed it.” Holten grinned at Kevon wryly. “Not something I would like to see again, but he is the most capable Summoner I’ve ever seen.”
“At any rate, we’d both better get going.” Holten said, with an air of finality. “Martin will take care of the house and my affairs until I return. All of the potions will be done after this afternoon’s tending. You’re more than welcome to all of them for your journey. They’ll be handy to use, and for barter.”
“Thank you, Master.” Kevon whispered, bowing slightly. “How will you be traveling?” he wondered aloud, quirking an eyebrow.
“There is a little known tower, leagues south in the wilderness, across the pass. Once I reach it and rest for the night, they can Send me to my destination.”
“A Sending
?” As if Kevon had not experienced enough surprises and new information flooding into his brain already. He shook his head. “How will you reach the tower?”
Holten’s usually serious face cracked into a slight smile. “Did you eat a good breakfast this morning?”
* * *
When Kevon woke, the last thing he remembered was a vision of a small chamber with walls of stone and wood. It had contained a bed, bookshelf, and a chest and was lit with a single torch in a sconce by the door. A medium-sized tapestry had hung on the other side of the door, but the glimpse had been over far too quickly. Kevon had passed out from the exertion of Aiding his Master’s Sending.
Kevon’s mind still reeled from the newness of the past days. Holten had spoken briefly of Sending and the other applications of the Movement aspect of Control, but had never mentioned being able to work such a powerful spell.
It had not been easy. The floor Kevon was just beginning to pull himself up off of was covered in used up chalk, charred grey by the forces it had helped channel. The circle and symbols that Kevon had barely recognized when they were solid were now scattering across the room with the slightest movements of air. He had seen the symbols during infrequent peeks at the advanced books he was not really allowed to read yet.
Another thing had been fairly surprising to Kevon. Holten, who usually disdained the use of gestures and speech during spell casting as amateurish and feeble, had been chanting something quite loudly. He’d also been gesturing emphatically when the spell reached its conclusion and Kevon had felt his entire magical reserve leave him, almost as if Holten had torn it from him.
Kevon coughed from the charred chalk smell, and the residue on the floor whorled about, further disturbing the circle. He brushed the smudges off the sleeve of his cloak, and tilted his kinked neck until it popped. Kevon rubbed at a crease on his right cheek where it had rested on a joint in the floor. He ached all over, was hungry, and sick to his stomach at the same time.
Thinking a handful of bread might settle his stomach, Kevon made his way from the library to the kitchen. He heard the sizzling sounds of the fish cooking before the wave of smell hit him. It was all at once familiar and appetizing, but far too much for his queasy stomach to handle. Kevon clapped his hand to his mouth and lurched past a bewildered Martin.
Once outside, Kevon struggled not to vomit for the second time in as many days.
* * *
Sometime later, after finishing the large mug of warm cider Martin had brought out to him; Kevon ventured back inside and finished off the last two fish.
After thanking Martin and sincerely praising both his fishing and cooking skills, Kevon excused himself to finish the potions in the laboratory.
Kevon carefully transferred the contents of each flask into the wooden, resin treated flasks that were normally used for storage and transit. He filled three of the smaller containers with the two brewed healing potions, deciding they would be easier to barter with, if needed. The cure-all and sleeping potion he placed in larger containers, marking each with a different bit of colored wax in a depression near the carrying straps. Kevon thoroughly rinsed each flask and used the rinse water to quench the coals in each brazier. He then re-shelved all of the ingredients in their proper places and hung the flasks upside down on the long drying pegs on the far wall.
Kevon left the quietly hissing braziers for Martin to clean later, gathered the potions by their leather carrying straps, and went to his room.
The room seemed in order for Kevon to leave. He found his bedding was rolled and tied with leather straps, and the borrowed book was indeed wrapped in his cloak, along with directions to Gurlin’s tower. A scroll case containing a sealed letter with Holten’s mark was presumably the letter of introduction. These items were wrapped inside a smaller oil-treated hide to prevent damage from the elements. After inspecting them all, he noticed how hungry he was.
Kevon went to the kitchen and found Martin had already gathered a large leather wallet full of provisions; salted meat, bread, cheese, and two large skins filled with water.
“That eager to see me go?” Kevon joked as Martin handed him the supplies.
“Looking forward to having only me to clean up after for a while.” replied Martin, grinning. Then his expression sobered. “You’ll be missed though. Master always spoke more fondly of you when you weren’t around. Who knows how he’ll be when he’s back and you’re not.”
“I’ll miss both of you, as well.” Kevon conceded. “You’ve been like family to…” He stopped abruptly.
“I’ve got to go see my family before I leave.” Kevon dropped his supplies on the counter and made for the door. “Be back soon!” he called over his shoulder.
Kevon found his mother in her workroom, mending clothes. For the last few years, since Kevon’s father died, she had supported Kevon and his sister by doing odd jobs, mending or cleaning for those too busy or lazy to do it for themselves.
“Hi, mom!” Kevon called as he entered the room, careful not to trip over the piles of garments stacked about.
“Come to see your dear mother before you go exploring, have you?” Kevon’s mother gave him a glare that could still tangle a knot in the pit of his stomach.
“Well, I uh…” Kevon stammered. “Wait, how did…”
“Alma told me before she went over to help Widow Anders with her garden.” Kevon’s mother’s glare softened, and her eyes shimmered with a hint of wetness. “We’re glad you’re going, but we hate to see you leave.”
Martin must have told Alma, Kevon thought. “I know,” he said, placing his hand over his mother’s. “I’m so excited to see the things beyond the valley, but it means leaving everything I’ve ever known, and everyone I love.”
Kevon’s mother stood, placing her work on a nearby table.
“Well,” she said, “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll come back to us. Is there anything you need before you go?”
Kevon sighed. “An extra pair of arms would be nice. I’ve got a lot to carry with me now.”
Kevon’s mother shook her head slowly. “I’m afraid all I can manage are some extra legs.”
Kevon blinked.
“I’ve been doing a lot of mending lately for the widow and her sons.” she explained. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind giving you back your father’s mare to settle their account.” She paused, and grinned. “Especially when Alma’s doing the asking.”
Kevon laughed. His sister was a good girl, but she was quickly learning how to use her newly acquired feminine features to get what she wanted.
“Are you sure, Mother? That’s quite a bit of trade, I don’t want to…” Kevon began.
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve often thought of buying her back, but we wouldn’t have been able to afford to keep her.” His mother sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’ve always regretted having to sell that mare. It’s fitting that she goes back to you now.” She turned her head and wiped her eyes again. “You’d best get going; they’re expecting you for supper.”
Kevon thought about working up an Illusion of a pot of flowers and seeing how long he could maintain it as he left. He settled for a firm hug, and a soft “Goodbye.”
He returned to Master Holten’s house, gathered his supplies, and set out for the widow’s farm.
Chapter 4
Kevon rode away from the farm, relaxed and trying to absorb every sensation as his journey finally began. The light breeze blowing from the south down the valley brought the fresh smell of pine to mingle with the scents of horse and leather. He closed his eyes and smiled as he felt the morning sun warming his cheek, and the half-familiar motion of his father’s mare’s gait.
Everything he owned was tucked snugly into saddlebags or strapped down behind him with his bedroll. The large breakfast he had just eaten would most likely last him the rest of the day. The widow’s sons had been more than happy to settle accounts with Kevon’s mother for the mare, and had parted with the saddle and some bags for one of the healing poti
ons and the cure-all. The sleeping potion had been brewed for the widow, Kevon had discovered, so he left that as well.
The mare plodded unhurriedly down the track, which suited Kevon just fine. His only responsibility now was to deliver a book that had been borrowed years ago. Kevon wondered how much time he would really have for reading on the road. Besides, when he began studying again he would be using Gurlin’s library.
A restlessness came over Kevon and he began to rummage through his cloak pockets. Empty herb pouches filled several of them, but he stopped when he came to the pouch Holten had given him. He unlaced the drawstring and poured the contents into his cupped palm.
He almost dropped it. Kevon held in his hand a small, but almost perfect pearl. The only flaw was a tiny dark discoloration in the shape of a four-pointed star. The surface was completely smooth even where it was discolored. Trembling slightly, Kevon put the pearl back into the pouch and tucked it into a deeper cloak pocket.
Kevon had not known what to expect, but had thought at most Holten would have given him a lesser gemstone. A garnet or an opal would have been more than enough to pay for the services of all but a Master Tailor for Kevon’s new robes. He would have been able to get a few garments and a new pair of shoes. But this? Kevon did not know how much things cost outside the North Valley, but he knew that this pearl was worth more than any property in Laston. He would not have any trouble getting anything he might need once he sold it.
The only unfamiliar item Kevon had in his pockets was the pewter amulet. As his fingers brushed over the raised image of the sword, a flash of memory washed over him. The Warrior had wanted his sword taken to someone. Who that someone was, Kevon realized, he might never figure out. But it was, as far as Kevon knew, the dying request of an honorable man.
Kevon turned the mare off the track and urged her into the forest.
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