by Jaxon Reed
She struggled to digest his words and said, “They only appear to strong wizards? And I’m strong enough to get one? And nobody else has seen a mind monster since you battled one?”
He nodded at each question.
She said, “Darkstone didn’t have one?”
“No. Neither did Greystone, and he is nearly as powerful, in his own way, as I. So, you are beginning to see how momentous your little fight was last night.”
“Little fight? That thing reached out and hurt me in my dream! And nothing I could do fazed it. It was impervious to all magic. I couldn’t even see the rotten thing!”
He nodded sympathetically and said, “Mine was equally vicious. It broke my arm. It took months to fully heal. I still have nightmares.”
“Did it appear in your dreams?”
Oldstone shook his head and said, “No. Each one is different. Mine attacked when I was alone. I must say, it took me a century or two before I finally felt secure being alone again. Even so, I still like to keep facsimiles around for company. I’m far more comfortable in this castle with them present.”
“So how did you defeat yours? Nothing I tried in my dream worked. Even the Spell of Expulsion was useless.”
“I’m afraid if I told you how I defeated mine, it would do you no good. Each wizard’s mind monster is unique, and no two victories occur in quite the same way. You’ll have to figure it out on your own, just as your predecessors did before you.”
Mita looked at the book again with renewed interest. She pulled it closer and tried once more to read through the page Oldstone had left open.
She gave up and asked, “So what are these things? Why do they attack powerful wizards?”
Oldstone shrugged and said, “No one is really quite sure, although some theories have been proffered. One is that they represent balance in nature. The most powerful wizards should have an equally powerful opponent who must be overcome before the wizard can truly come of age.
“Another idea is that you cannot explore the full extent of your power until you have defeated your mind monster. All the wizards who did so went on to obtain phenomenal capabilities, and all became exceptional. Myself included, of course.”
“Wait. ‘All the wizards who did so?’ Do you mean some did not?”
“Oh yes. You can read about it.” He pointed at the book again. “Some of their deaths were quite gruesome, especially for those experiences mind monsters before their trials, like you.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought. She wrapped one arm around her injuries and pushed the book away.
Oldstone’s eyes rested on her middle. He said, “They always seem to attack something vulnerable, something personal. For me, when I was a young wizard (and I met my mind monster after my trials), I used my right arm to cast spells. I thought by waving my arm a certain way, I could induce more power into a spell. And I probably did, looking back on it. Half of magical ability is believing you can do it, after all.
“After the mind monster broke my arm, I had to learn how to cast without using gestures, much as you did in your training. Oh, I could use my left arm, but it wasn’t the same. I’m right-handed, and my spells were more powerful when I used my right arm.
“Eventually, I figured out how to focus power without using bodily movements. So in a way, my mind monster performed me a generous favor, although it didn’t feel like it at the time. Once I defeated him, my confidence bloomed and I grew considerably more powerful.”
They both looked back down at the fresh bandages around her middle. Dread filled her heart as she processed the wizard’s words, and what they implied for her.
She said, “What has he done to me?”
Oldstone looked up and met her gaze levelly.
“I suspect, Mita, you can no longer have children.”
3
Greystone smiled as his steed plodded down the road at a leisurely pace. His long blond hair and his long blond beard, both streaked with gray, waved gently in the afternoon breeze.
Deedles the blind cat lay sprawled across the saddle and his lap, snoozing through the horse’s steady movement.
Reluctantly, Greystone’s attention wandered back to the royal retinue, on its way to a duke’s summer manor for a meeting with the kingdom’s top nobility. King Keel was already there. His wife and daughter, along with Trant and the wizard, were due to arrive that evening.
In front, Captain Tomlin led a contingent of five other Royal Guards. In the middle, Prince Trant and Princess Margwen rode side by side, deep in conversation about some book they both had read in childhood. It seemed obvious to all the two were deeply in love, and it mattered little what they discussed so long as they were together.
Behind them rode Anabella, Margwen’s former nanny, along with Isabeth, Trant’s former nanny, and two other ladies of the court. These four held their own conversation, an ongoing commentary about the sights and people around them. They served as chaperones to the couple, and were constantly present when Trant and Margwen were together.
Wizard Greystone followed them along with Queen Kita, Margwen’s mother, who had taken a liking to Greystone, much to his dismay. He turned back to her conversation and smiled politely, offering no outward sign of his discontent.
Behind them rode more guardsmen, followed by a royal carriage which wheeled its way along the empty road. Margwen and Trant wanted to ride today.
At first Greystone was content to let the lovers ride while he remained in the carriage. He considered passing the time by expanding its internal space with magic, perhaps adding a bedroom and bathroom. But the queen latched onto him and would not stop talking. She stayed in the carriage with him, and talked. And talked. He felt it would be extremely rude to ignore her, so he listened. He had been listening all day. Or at least feigning to listen.
After lunch at an inn, he decided to ride along with the prince and princess, choosing one of the spare horses tied onto the back of the carriage. The queen joined him. Although she preferred the comfort of the coach, she gamely chose a horse of her own in order to maintain her one-sided conversation.
Greystone nodded politely at something she said, although if asked on the spot to repeat it he would not have been able to.
The queen appeared quite attractive, even without makeup or magic. In her middle fifties, the gray in her hair made a more aggressive showing with each passing year. In fact, little of her original color remained. Greystone knew she could fix that herself. She had the magic for it but refused to use it. Many women had varying degrees of glamour spells they used on themselves. And for those with little magic, plenty of mages would be willing to oblige for a small fee. Certain spas, Greystone knew, existed for that sole purpose. Women entered, dropped some silver, and left looking ten years younger. Until the spell wore off, necessitating another visit and more silver.
But not Queen Kita. It had to do with some odd Coralian tradition, he thought. The royal line never enhanced their looks by magic. They always appeared to their subjects with unadorned features, never altered by beauty spells.
Not that the queen needed much enhancement. She hailed from one of the five major noble families in Coral, although the wizard couldn’t remember precisely which one at the moment. The families had intermarried with one another, with occasional injections of fresh blood from one of the minor houses, for a thousand years. There were enough varieties in the bloodlines for the nobility to consistently produce attractive offspring, and it was not unusual for the King of Coral, whoever that might be at any given time, to choose a bride from one of these five families.
Even unadorned, the queen’s finely chiseled features carried the sort of feminine qualities poets often mention, Greystone thought. He decided the gray hair did not detract from her looks. If anything it seemed to enhance her stature, as if bestowing an aura of wisdom alongside her beauty.
If daughters followed their mothers in looks as they aged, Trant would find his wife exceptionally attractive well into old age, the wiz
ard thought.
Provided he lived that long. That was always the caveat when considering Trant’s future. And so many elements were lined up against the prince.
Well, I’ve kept the lad alive so far. Perhaps he’ll at least live long enough to sire an heir, Greystone thought.
The entire party drew to a halt as Trant and Margwen paused to watch a group of peasants working around a collapsed building.
Tomlin looked back, questioningly, at his princess. Greystone knew the Captain refused to let anyone else in the Royal Guard accompany her without his say-so. After losing his men in the Battle of Greystone Village, Tomlin had proven particularly mule-headed about maintaining his assignment upon returning to Coral. He had personally chosen each guard accompanying the party today. His men stood in awe of him, fearful of his battle-hardened reputation. None doubted his loyalty to Margwen, nor his willingness to sacrifice his life, if need be, to protect her.
After conferring with Trant for a moment, Margwen made a motion to Tomlin indicating he should investigate what the peasants were up to.
Greystone’s attention returned to the queen, who hadn’t stopped talking and now brought up Trant again. The wizard suspected one of the reasons Kita insisted on accompanying them on this trip was to pry as much information as she could about the man in which her daughter had taken such an interest.
For his part, having practically raised the orphan prince, Greystone felt happy to oblige. But after the first few hours of their journey he had run out of new things to say, and the conversation shifted to other topics which held little interest for the wizard. But he never let the queen know of his boredom.
She said, “I am so glad you and Prince Trant are able to see the countryside. It is my opinion, I’m biased of course, that Coral is the prettiest of all the lands. And we have such excellent peasants. They are very hard working. Good, kind, decent people who till the land and work the soil.”
Greystone nodded, but kept his eyes on Trant. The prince fidgeted in his saddle. The wizard knew he wanted more than anything to question the peasants himself, and spend time investigating, perhaps assisting them in their efforts. But as a royal, such action would be unseemly.
Trant knew this, having been coached by Greystone extensively. Trant was fully versed in all the customs. But the wizard knew he didn’t like it. Around the village back home, he often mingled with the people. The commoners loved Trant, and he treated them well, not as some arrogant ruler keeping his distance.
But custom in Coral, as most elsewhere, dictated that distance indeed be kept between the nobility and common folk.
Tomlin rode back to the party and addressed Margwen, saying “The old granary collapsed, Highness. The local villagers want to reuse the stones for their houses, but they’re having a hard time prying the remaining ones loose.”
Trant looked over his shoulder and raised questioning eyebrows toward Greystone. The wizard smiled. He said, “I must beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I believe I can be of assistance in this matter.”
The queen nodded. He squeezed his ankles into his horse’s side, rode away from the royal party and headed toward the fallen building. The structure once stood several paces high, perhaps three rods or so, Greystone estimated, but had collapsed in a pile of rubble. The villagers had already carted away most all the good stones, save those near the foundation.
These, Greystone realized, were bigger and heavier than the smaller ones comprising the upper portion of the granary. He noted a group of men worked with a team of horses struggling to pull out one of the heavy stones. The horses pulled hard in their harnesses, straining powerful muscles, but barely budged the giant block.
Several other men and women worked, all dressed in simple unbleached linen, breeches and dresses died occasionally brown or green or dark yellow. They loaded stones and fragments and other remains of the building onto wagons. Children darted here and there, gathering small rocks and trying to be helpful while playing at the same time.
One of the men stopped working and approached Greystone’s horse, knuckling his forehead in a respectful greeting. He stood tall and stout, brown hair matching the color of his clothes, barrel-chested and broad shoulders and a ready smile. He was the same man who had spoken with Tomlin a moment ago.
Greystone acknowledged him with a nod and said, “Have your people step away. I’ll loosen the remaining stones for you.”
The big man smiled, then turned and bellowed out to the others, “Make way! The wizard’s gonna loosen the pile!”
Scattered cheers went up, and men scrambled from the stones. A few horses were led further back, drawing their flatbed wagons with them. Mothers scolded at children running about. In a few moments, the site stood vacated, the villagers surrounding it in a rough circle while eyeing the wizard expectantly.
Greystone chuckled, self-deprecatingly. He said, “Oldstone was always the one for theatrics, I fear.”
The big villager tilted his head, trying to understand what the wizard meant by the comment.
Gresystone said, “Never mind. Yes, well, here we go.”
He gave a flourish with his hand and the large stones pulled up from the foundation, floated gracefully through the air, and landed neatly on the carts one by one. A cheer went up from the crowd. The children ran toward him squealing with delight and spooking his horse.
Greystone patted the animal gently on the side of her neck, and held the reins tighter.
The big man raised his hands for quiet, and soon the crowd settled down. He cleared his throat and said, “On behalf of everyone in the village of Althan, I want to thankee, Wizard, for saving us days of work.”
Somebody yelled out, “Aye! Three cheers for th’ wizard!”
After the cheers and more applause, Greystone smiled and nodded, ready to leave.
One of the little boys from the village caught his eye and said, “Won’t you make a speech, Wizard?”
Instantly the crowd quieted. Greystone flushed slightly as he met the eyes of several people.
“Oh. Yes, well of course. Uh, may Althan forever be blessed by the Creator!”
Everyone beamed in gratitude. Greystone felt truly ready to leave by now, but it seemed they expected more. He looked at the stones loaded on the carts, and raised his eyebrows as an idea struck.
“And may every house, every structure these stones are reused in, be especially blessed!”
Another cheer erupted from the crowd. Greystone took the opportunity to turn his horse around and rejoin the royal retinue. Trant and Margwen smiled their thanks as he approached. He grinned back at them, then drew up near the queen again as the party resumed its journey down the road.
The queen said, “A very nice gesture, Greystone! I’m sure you saved them days of work.”
“Yes, yes. Happy to help, Your Majesty. Your subjects are good people.”
“Indeed! However, I must confess I have no idea what they want with those old stones. I’m afraid I don’t spend much time in the villages. Their ways remain something of a mystery to me.”
“Oh, that’s easy to explain Your Majesty. Villagers waste nothing. If an old building such as that one falls down, the stones are carted away to be used elsewhere.”
“I see. It all sounds so efficient. I do believe Coral has the best peasants of all the kingdoms. I know I’m biased, but . . .”
Greystone tuned her out as he examined a new thought entering his mind. He looked at it from different angles, thoroughly considering the idea.
Deedles woke up, and stretched luxuriously from her perch on his saddle. She connected with Greystone’s mind effortlessly, and examined the idea along with him.
She purred in approval, and her thoughts entered his mind with a single word: “Reuse!”
-+-
Duke Fellows’s summer manor seemed incredibly sumptuous to Trant. At least, that was what Greystone surmised Trant felt while watching him from a distance. The prince could not stop swiveling his head, drinking in all the s
ights as they neared their destination.
The party arrived just before sunset, in time to admire acres and acres of gardens surrounding the manor. Beautifully manicured foliage grew in abundance, kept impeccable no doubt by some gardener or two who were particularly adept at nature magic, Greystone thought. And no doubt well paid for their service.
The manor itself would serve royalty well in any large city. As they neared, it emerged from behind a final line of trees, gleaming in polished white stone three stories tall, balconies and windows and columns all below a dark tile roof. The queen shifted her ongoing monologue as they rode closer to the front gates, explaining the manor featured 65 rooms along with 22 bathrooms, an indoor pool and several spacious courtyards.
Greystone nodded, at last paying closer attention to her words. Curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “And this is one of several homes he owns? How can one man afford so many opulent estates?”
The queen smiled graciously and said, “My family is very well to do, Wizard Greystone. My older brother inherited Donamar, but proceeds from the family’s shipping fleet allow for many such luxuries.”
Greystone nodded in sudden understanding. He stroked his beard thoughtfully and said, “Donamar. ‘Gift of the sea’ in the Old Tongue. Quite appropriate.”
“You are so wise, Wizard. It has been such a joy speaking with you today. I must confess I rarely have the opportunity to spend much time in conversation with someone of your intellect.”
“The pleasure, Your Majesty, has been all mine.”
And given the chance, I’d lie again. One must remain diplomatic, above all else.
The queen flushed with the compliment, and began a brief history of the Fellows family, dating back to their founding patriarch and his first boat, Seafellow. Her story had to be cut short, though. Soon they arrived at the front gates and servants darted out to help everyone dismount and take away the horses.
All were assigned to their rooms, and more servants rushed out to take luggage and show the newcomers where they were to sleep. Greystone found himself in a prestigious location next door to Trant. The room had marble tiles, expensive wood paneling, and a vaulted ceiling. Significantly, it included a private bath. That alone indicated the honor bestowed upon the wizard by his hosts.