The Wizard Duel

by Kevin Winters

alabaster walls, nearly twice the height of any man. He picked up his pace to a near run as his boots clicked down the stone road which led up to the front of the estate, a building shaped like a square with one side missing, open to the path that lead to the front gate. He walked around the large fountain in the center toward the western side of the estate, where he opened the large oak doors and entered the study.

  Tables and benches covered almost the entire floor, and on top of them were tomes, maps, bottles, scrolls, alchemy sets, magical devices, talismans, ancient artifacts, and statues carved from the finest minerals money could buy. Heavy pewter sconces hung from the wall holding thick, ever-burning candles. All of it was a testament not only to the wealth of Caldea's richest wizard lord, but to his skill as well. Cecht moved through the maze of tables and benches as he headed toward the north wall where he stopped in front of a bookshelf and took off a moderately sized chest from the lowest shelf. It was the only thing in the entire estate that the wizard lord would let the young wizard own, and as far as Cecht had been able to determine, the Master kept his promise of privacy. His wards placed on the chest to prevent anyone from opening the chest by physical or magical ways had never been disturbed, and a perfect rectangular space clear of dust was always underneath.

  With a wave of his hand and a magic word, the locking mechanism clicked and the lid swung open. Inside was a cloak that had seen too much wear to offer any protection, and a small, wooden jewelry box filled with odds and ends.

  He removed the scroll tube from his robe and wrapped it best he could in the cloak rag and placed the ring in the jewelry box. Cecht stared at the chest. It might be the last time he saw anything inside. Despite his distaste for his forced servitude in the estate and the insignificance of most the items in the chest, he had come to feel fond for them. They defined who he was for the last eight months.

  Don’t grow soft, Cecht thought. Remember your plan.

  With a small sigh he closed the lid and weaved a magical web over the wooden box, a spell that would alert him to any disturbances a thief might cause. He also enacted another spell upon the chest since he was unable to afford revealing his trump card for the night's duel. A small flame sprung into existence at the end of Cecht's finger which he held up to the lock, pushing the flame inside. He rapidly increased the intensity of the flame then cooled it, permanently melting the locking mechanism in place.

  Cecht looked up to see Saccius standing in the doorway just a few paces away.

  "That's an awfully drastic measure to take just to make sure no one peeks at your sentimentals. Or perhaps it's something else?" Saccius raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a trinket or new spell scroll for tonight? Or perhaps a flask of cyanide to drink in despair after you fail?" Saccius narrowed his eyes at the crouching wizard. Cecht didn't move, enjoying the look of anger that quickly crept into Saccius' face. "Well? Answer me, worm."

  Cecht stood up from his crouch and placed his hands into his robe's pockets. "Saccius, budd-"

  The black-haired apprentice cut him off, "You will address me properly, dog. You haven't won your freedom yet. And I don't intend for you to win it at all!" A whip of lightning formed in his hand. "Now, speak, and do it properly."

  Cecht held out his hands, keeping them in his pockets, and bowed his head. "My apologies, Senior Apprentice, I forgot my tongue and misspoke. I offer myself to any consequences I may have incurred." He bowed once more.

  "That's better," Saccius said. The boy stood straight and fixed his hair. "We have been summoned to the Master's quarters, no doubt to discuss tonight. Now come, we must not keep the Master waiting." Saccius stepped back from the door and indicated Cecht to lead. Cecht bowed once more and left the study, Saccius right behind.

  Cecht and Saccius moved through the wide halls of the estate without speaking to one another. Large paintings and foreign pottery on small stands decorated those halls, more used to impress political figures than anything. The Master had little taste for anything that did not pertain to magic.

  They arrived outside the Master's quarters in short order and Saccius reached around Cecht to ring the golden bell signaling their arrival. The door swung open and the two apprentice-slaves stepped inside the lavish room.

  The Master sat behind his large desk across from them on a raised portion of the floor. He was leaned over, quill in hand, reading and signing papers. His pafjuji, a traditional headdress worn by the wizard lords of Caldea, sat on the desk next to him. It consisted of long rope wrapped in a dark green cloth which the wizard lord then wrapped around his head. Behind him, through a window that ran the length of the wall and over half the height, trees swayed lightly in the estate's garden. The room was kept spotless, minus the desk, and was sparsely furnished with a fine couch and two high-backed chairs in a floral pattern. To the left a bookcase lined the entire wall, and halfway up a second floor had been constructed with a spiraling iron staircase leading up. To the right was a wall plastered with maps showing political and business related distributions of the city and its surrounding area.

  Minutes passed and Cecht started to fidget. Saccius glared at him and his hand itched to whip the insolent foreigner. A grin spread across Cecht's face as he enjoyed how Saccius was torn between disciplining him, and behaving in front of the Master. Both apprentices ceased when the Master set down his quill, folded his hands, and looked up at the two.

  "Thank you, Saccius, you may leave us," he said, his voice deep and rich with a gentle undertone. Saccius bowed stiffly and departed from the room, the heavy wooden doors closing behind him. The master eyed Cecht up and down. "Are you sure you can't be swayed? I don't want you to get hurt tonight."

  As if you care.

  "Your concern is touching, Master, but I remain resolute in my decision. I will enter the arena tonight, win, and leave Caldea a freeman.”

  The wizard lord leaned back in his chair. "Cecht, it doesn't have to be this way. You have it good here, and things will only get better as time progresses. Stay and study under me and I’ll make sure you become the best wizard lord Caldea’s ever seen when I retire.” Cecht felt a hint of magic in the wizard lord’s words. He was well known for using magic to persuade people, but Cecht already defeated the effect by recognizing it. A genuine smile spread across the Master’s face. "See? See what I mean? Most of the other wizard lords can't even detect my persuasion magic. You should stay here and become my successor. You will become a powerful wizard and could do great things for Caldea, not to mention yourself and your family." Cecht bowed his head and removed his hands from his pockets. A tempting offer, if his sights were as low as the Master’s own.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but I already have plans, plans you so rudely interrupted when you abducted me." He should have been ruling his hometown by now, with plans under way to take the next town over. Cecht started to pace back and forth. The Master and he had had this conversation almost a dozen times in the last eight months, but somehow he always tried once more to convince the wizard lord to free him. "I've already lost more time than I'm comfortable with in your stupid estate, following your meaningless instructions, attending your stupid meetings, and worst of all, taking whippings from your damn lap dog!"

  "Watch your tongue, boy," the wizard lord said.

  "Or what? You'll whip me? No, you won't. You never have. You'll get your damn lap dog to do it. Keep your hands and conscience clean while I get my flesh charred."

  Perfect. Make him think you’re just emotional.

  “Enough!”

  Cecht’s body seized up as the Master mentally activated the slave brand around his upper left arm. The room rumbled, furniture moved, books fell from their shelves as the master stood up, his chair falling from the sudden force. "Your arrogance will be your undoing, Cecht Angrove. Remember that, if anything in your life." The Master's chair righted itself and he took his seat again. "You are relieved from all your duties today in order to prepare for the arena tonight. Now be gone."

  Relief flooded Cecht's nerves as his
slave brand dulled, releasing his body.

  "You didn't break me with beatings and you won't lull me with kindness," Cecht said. He bowed and turned to leave. The Master picked up his quill and went back to signing documents. The doors opened themselves and Cecht stepped on the threshold where he stopped. He turned back to look at the Master. The Master could have simply refused his request to fight for his freedom, but he allowed it. Why? Did he get pleasure from the idea of watching Cecht fail and lose his only chance at freedom? Or was he just stupid?

  "I said be gone, Cecht. You have a long night to prepare for."

  The boy bowed once more and left. He looked forward to the next time he would enter that room, when he was the one and only ruler of Caldea.

  Cecht returned to the study right after the meeting; with the day now free, it was time to prepare for the night. He pulled his chest off the bottom shelf and dispelled the magical wards protecting it, then held his finger up to the lock and sent a spike of magical energy into it. It exploded and the chest swung open. He pulled the tube out from the tattered cloth and slipped it into a pocket inside his robe, then took the ring from the jewelry box and slipped it over a finger.

  He left the chest open on the ground and crossed the cluttered