Red Jade
Book 5:
Delminor’s Trials
Stephen J. Wolf
Copyright © Stephen J. Wolf
All Rights Reserved
Print Edition:
ISBN: 978-1-950110-00-1
eBook Edition:
ISBN: 978-1-950110-01-8
To Dad, for always protecting us, despite the odds.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Once a Teen
Chapter 2: Jerrona
Chapter 3: The Apprentice
Chapter 4: Magitorium
Chapter 5: Library Discovery
Chapter 6: Of Pebbles and Rocks
Chapter 7: Denial
Chapter 8: The Masters
Chapter 9: The Rats in the Hall
Chapter 10: Elemental Confluence
Chapter 11: Subterfuge
Chapter 12: Of Wind and Earth
Chapter 13: Punishment
Chapter 14: Pyron’s Dismay
Chapter 15: Joureying
Chapter 16: Magehaven
Chapter 17: The Library
Chapter 18: Donya’s News
Chapter 19: The Mage Council
Chapter 20: The Demonstration
Chapter 21: Desperation
Chapter 22: Wishes of the People
Chapter 23: The Hold
Chapter 24: Departure
Chapter 25: Marritosh
Chapter 26: The Stroll
Chapter 27: Castle Hathreneir
Chapter 28: Impetus
Chapter 29: The Great Forest
Chapter 30: Leaves
Chapter 31: The Nature Jade
Chapter 32: Communing with Nature
Chapter 33: Sandonia
Chapter 34: The Unknown Jade
Chapter 35: The Castle Revisited
Chapter 36: Gemstones
Chapter 37: Promises
Chapter 38: Battle
Chapter 39: Verrithon
Chapter 40: Beasts
Chapter 41: Communication
Chapter 42: Changes
Chapter 43: Training
Chapter 44: Skirmish at the Castle
Chapter 45: Pennithor’s Wrath
Chapter 46: Home
Chapter 47: Elevation
Chapter 48: Apprentices
Chapter 49: Messages
Chapter 50: Song
Chapter 51: Bandits
Chapter 52: Rocktaurs
Chapter 53: The Final Shard
Chapter 54: Detour
Chapter 55: Mage’s Rest
Chapter 56: New Magic
Chapter 57: Wounds
Chapter 58: Unrest
Chapter 59: Petition
Chapter 60: Laboratory
Chapter 61: The Day of Change
Chapter 62: New Life
Chapter 63: Summons
Chapter 64: Updated Game
Chapter 65: Working with the Jades
Chapter 66: The Contest
Chapter 67: The Jades
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Works by Stephen J. Wolf
Chapter 1
Once a Teen
The hamlet of Verrithon was a quiet, subdued place. Villagers milled around on their business, growing vegetables, tending to sheep, and the like. A few practiced their magic spells, rifling through massive tomes and practicing the long incantations and intricate movements needed to call forth the forces of nature.
One such practitioner was Delminor, an unruly sixteen-year-old determined to prove himself to the world around him. His auburn hair was as fiery as his wit, a jumbled mess like his thoughts, and unkempt like the workstation around him.
Tossing papers aside, Delminor grumbled, trying to find the pages of Regnard. He needed the final summoning movements of the earth spell he was working on. If he could find a means of aerating the soil and improving the crops, surely the king would notice him and he could leave this forsaken place.
“Dellie!” called his mother from the other room. “Come in and eat.”
“Bah.” He ignored the call and continued seeking the
missing parchment. In his haste, he knocked over the flask of liquefied manure, which oozed along the floor and created an immediate stench.
He stamped his foot and struggled to control the urge to upend the nearby table. “Oh, come on!” The solution had taken the better part of a day to prepare, balancing the mixture to perfection. And it was a vital ingredient for his spell.
“I don’t want to hear you’re busy.”
Unable to do more anyway, he drudged out of his laboratory and into the kitchen.
His mother was covered in bits of flour and jam, as untidy as his study, her faded brown hair a tangled mess. He averted his gaze and focused on the plate set before him.
Digging in, his annoyance faded away. “It’s delicious, Jary.”
His mother stiffened her lip and swatted the teen in the head. “Eat.”
The sun peered through the window as he sipped his water and scarfed down the berry pastries. She really was an excellent baker, which had been a key factor in his own research. After all, what were magic spells but bits of recipes put together? He gleaned a lot from her techniques over the years, but he was impatient to have success with his own concoctions.
When his plate was finished, his mother looked at him with a wry expression. Delminor bounded to his feet and turned to leave. Jary responded by taking his dirty plate and clattering it into the sink.
Ignoring the commotion, he scuttled to his room, determined to recreate the manure mixture, which should take less time now that he had the ratios written down, and to find that blasted sheaf of Regnard’s work.
* * *
“Let’s go, mister mage. Gather your travel pack; it’s time for market.”
Delminor groaned at the interruption. “I’m nearly finished.”
It was the wrong answer. The door flew open and a man of average height and build stomped into the room. “I don’t care what you have left to do.” His voice raised. “We’re off to Jerrona now.”
His father had never hit him, but the threat was always in his tone. Perhaps it had never happened because Delminor hadn’t truly tested the man. The teen looked around at his workstation, the vials of muck, the carefully tied packs of herbs, the fastidious notes he had taken. If his father wanted to hurt him, all he’d have to do was wreck the room. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Yes, Father.”
Delminor grabbed his satchel and dutifully followed his father, who grabbed a sword and then handed a knife to his son.
There was a snickering gleam in his eye. “Sand jays are out today, so you may want some of your bandages, too.”
“I’ll be fine,” Delminor said. “I haven’t been bitten by one since I was ten.”
“But, oh, the howling!”
Jary wandered into the room with a list. “Here, Minlon, don’t forget these.”
“Do I ever?”
“Every time.”
* * *
The journey to Jerrona would be a relatively quick one, just two days northwest of Verrithon. The terrain was a mix of dirt and sand, a growing problem in the kingdom of Hathreneir. The natural energies of the land could no longer support the nutrients in the soil, hence Delminor’s attempts to fix it. He had his own theories regarding why it was happening, but he kept them to himself. No one else should take credit for his ideas.
The sand jays were indeed out in force. A small flock of them chirped and flew toward the travelers. Minlon and Delminor brandished their weapons, ready for the strike.
More experienced, but by no means a warrior, Minlon stepped into the onslaught, waving his sword at the oversized blue birds. The
ir beady eyes flared orange and their fluttering wings drew up the soil and tossed it at their foes. But Minlon had faced these beasts enough times to expect the distraction and he tucked his eyes behind his arm long enough to pass the dirt cloud. He brought his sword sharply into the nearest jay and cut a mortal wound.
Delminor did not charge like his father had. Instead, he closed his hands into fists, still clutching the knife in his left hand. He racked his mind for what he needed and then remembered. He dropped to the ground, scooped up a fistful of dirt, spit into it, then dragged the blade in the mixture. He cleared his throat for the incantation. “Kathrahasslerad formitherien jalicorith rectusampricant portillius breq…”
His father heard the chanting. “Dammit, don’t waste your time. Just kill the things, you idiot.”
“…ramitorrican fabronie engor shai!” Delminor’s knife drew in the soil stuck to the blade and then cast it outward in a stream of mud. He aimed the knife at the sand jays around him, covering them in the muck and grounding them. It was short work to finish them off after that.
Delminor gave his father a smug look and noted the bites the man had received during his own rush. “I see you needed the bandages for yourself this time.”
His father harrumphed. “At least I’m not crying about it. If you’re finished with your little victory, let’s move on.”
“Little indeed,” Delminor scoffed. “If I hadn’t grounded them, they could have overwhelmed us. What would you have done if one of them had ripped out your eye? Pop it back in?”
“Watch your tone,” came the warning growl.
He’d had enough. “No. You put up with my magic, but you’ve never accepted it as part of who I am. I don’t need you to protect me anymore. All you ever do is tell me not to bother with it. ‘Here’s a sword, little Dellie, don’t cut yourself.’ Or, ‘haven’t you spent enough time with your manure?’ Or whatever. Leave me alone.”
His retort was met with a fist to his gut, felling him instantly. “Lot of good your magic did about that, kid.” He spat on Delminor and then took a deep breath to compose himself. “Fine. You want to prove yourself?” He took the shopping list and threw it down. “I expect you home in four days.” He stormed off, heading back to Verrithon.
Delminor watched him go, his belly aching. It took some time to regain his footing, but he pocketed the list and spat toward his father. “I’ll show you.”
Chapter 2
Jerrona
Jerrona was only slightly bigger than Delminor’s hometown, but it was a lot busier, a hub serving several smaller hamlets in the area. Delminor always wondered why it wasn’t bigger, considering how many travelers came through it.
He had been here many times and knew where he needed to go to get the supplies his family needed. Yet he found himself at a loss this time; on his own, angry, and hurt. His father’s punch had done more than bruise him.
He couldn’t return home if he wanted to learn magic, not that he particularly wanted to return anyway. The prospect of venturing off alone scared him, but he knew he needed a mentor, someone who could teach him. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he couldn’t do it on his own.
His resolve firmed, Delminor made his way through the town and located the tavern. He’d never been inside, but he knew from his father it could be a gathering place for visitors and therefore a place to gain information. He pushed his way inside and was immediately met with resistance.
“Little young, kid?” a reeking patron slurred. “Run along to mommy afore you get yerself in trouble.”
Delminor trembled instinctively but composed himself and ignored the man. He strode toward the barkeep and sat down. “I need help.”
The barkeep was a pleasant, middle-aged woman with soft, kind eyes. She smiled tenderly and leaned forward. “Lose your way?”
He shook his head. “I’m looking for a new one. Do you know of any mages seeking an apprentice?”
Her eyes shot up. “Well, you sure do cut right to the chase. Why didn’t you head over down Nivvek Street and ask there? Surely they’d know better.”
“They’d also report back home about what I’m asking.” He heaved a sigh. “I just need some guidance.” He reached into his pocket and procured a few copper coins, setting them on the table.
“Oh, honey, thank you, but that isn’t necessary.” She stepped back and fumbled behind the counter, then set a glass of milk on the table. “Sip this and by the time you’re finished, help will be here.”
Delminor lifted the glass and started to chug it.
“Nuh uh,” the woman admonished, wagging her finger. “Sip.”
It took all his self-control to set the glass on the table and keep quiet. He didn’t like the idea of playing a game for whatever pleasure she might take out of it. He kept himself from rolling his eyes, occasionally lifting the glass and sipping it as requested. The barkeep left him to it and tended to other customers.
Another patron approached the bar after some time and tapped her fingers, trying to summon the barkeep, who was nowhere to be seen. “What kind of tavern doesn’t have someone tending the mead?”
Delminor ignored her, keeping to his task, but the patron was persistently annoying, slamming her hand on the counter and clearing her throat aggressively. At last, she got up, exasperated, and walked away. Delminor let out a sigh and took the last sip of his milk, setting the glass down and half-expecting the barkeep to materialize in front of him with a poof of smoke.
He looked around, but the tavern was still lowly attended, it being midday. Everyone had something to drink, so he guessed the barkeep had been busy after all. When he turned back around, she stood in front of him.
“I’m surprised you’re still here.”
“You said to finish the glass and help would arrive.”
“Didn’t she? Dratted girl.”
“Wait… She was here for me?”
The barkeep buried her face in her hand. “Of course she was looking for you.”
“But… but she just kept asking where you were and being all obnoxious about it.”
“It wasn’t bothersome enough for you to talk to her?” She shrugged. “Considering you were expecting someone to show and when someone did, you didn’t even greet her, I can’t help. You’re not committed to whatever your plan really is.”
“I—”
“Now there, it’s not a judgment, just a caution. But that’s all I can give you for today. Maybe your luck will change if you’re more attentive.”
Delminor took the hint and left the tavern, scolding himself for his silence. He’d felt too out of place to speak up at all, but to think he’d missed his chance… he wouldn’t let that happen again.
His only other option was to head to Nivvek Street and ask there. The mages knew him and would likely report back to his parents, but he didn’t care anymore. His father had crossed the line and Delminor had no intention of returning, even though it meant leaving his research behind.
Nivvek Street was a haven for local mages. There were shops with herbs and powders needed for many of their spells. No less than five book stores were in the area, one of which housed minor spells that a curious mage could read through without paying a usage fee. They also served a host of teas, which was mostly how they supported their business. Delminor entered and took an empty seat.
He’d been there countless times, talking with the proprietor, Leesha, who often put him to work in exchange for her assistance with his research. Despite his desire to embark on his own, he needed an ally.
“Welcome back, D.”
The young mage smiled. “Hi, L. You’ve done something a bit unusual with your hair.”
Leesha laughed and ran her fingers through the blue half of her hair, which ran halfway down her back. The other side of her head was shaven almost to the scalp and dyed red. “I’ve decided to swear off fire magic for a while.”
“Is that what happened?” Delminor asked with a laugh. “You burned half your head?”
She smacked him on the shoulder. “No, I did not burn myself. I just find I like water better these days.”
He raised his eyebrow. “It’s an entirely different element. How can you switch after all the time you’ve spent with one?”
“I’m following my heart. Besides, I’m not the only mage to dabble in more than one element.”
“I suppose. But those are usually wiser mages who’ve spent their lives working at it.”
“Wiser?” she fumed.
“Well?” When she hesitated, he added, “Most of them don’t go around shaving half their heads and turning them all different colors to alert the world they’re studying something else.”
“Why you—” She stopped herself and growled. “Is it that obvious?”
“No more red fire, instead a long flowing bit of blue water? Obvious enough to me, anyway.”
“Well don’t you think mages should signify their elements? It’d make conversations so much easier. I hate getting into a whole conversation just to find some idiot that dabbles in earth magic.”
Delminor’s eyes narrowed.
She laughed. “See? It doesn’t feel so nice, does it?” She ran her fingers through her hair again and then sobered. “So what are you doing looking for a master?”
The question caught him off guard. “Excuse me?”
“Word went out some kid was looking to be an apprentice and then suddenly you show up here to sulk. You didn’t even pick up a spellbook as cover.”
“I’m not returning home.”
“That’s typically what happens when someone goes to be an apprentice, isn’t it?”
“Do you know of anyone?”
“What about me? I could show you some things.”
His shoulders tensed. They had always gotten along, but she wouldn’t be a good mentor for him, as she was too eccentric for his tastes. Not knowing what to say, he bit his lip. “You’re… not an earth mage.”
“I could be if I wanted.” She saw the hesitation and laughed. “Not any time soon, though. But, if you’re up for a bit of travel, there’s this old guy, can barely get around anymore. His son comes now and then for supplies.”
“So I’d be an errand boy?”
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