The Circle of Sorcerers: A Mages of Bloodmyr Novel: Book #1 Page 4

With the dawn light flooding his room, he awoke. He felt as though he hadn't slept at all, as though he had been in the twilight between being asleep and being awake throughout the night. He walked down the narrow hall to the washroom and cranked the pump to fill the tub. Cool and refreshing, the water helped him wake up and get motivated for the long day ahead.

  When he finished bathing, he put on his traveling garments. Beneath a deep purple vest, he wore a white cotton shirt with sleeves that stopped just above the wrists and allowed free movement of his arms. The pants were snug but not constricting to his legs. He donned his thin socks and leather boots and buckled a leather belt bearing an empty leather sheath. The style of his clothing made it easy for him to cast a spell if need be without it being gaudy and flashy like the true sorcerer’s robes of the archmages.

  “One last thing.” Opening the long, narrow box on his dresser, he retrieved a dense wooden wand. He ran his fingers across it, admiring the ornate carvings and master craftsmanship. Although a practice wand meant for no more than a first-year neonate, it was of the highest possible quality and more than serviceable. The wand had been in his family for some five generations, and Ma had given it to him when he began his training. Turning toward the door, the smell of the morning meal wafted into his nostrils.

  He placed the wand in the sheath at his side, then went downstairs. Ma was busy preparing breakfast when he reached the common room on the first floor of the house. As he surveyed the offerings, he grabbed a plate and a helping of each item down the line.

  “Eat up, son. You'll need your strength for the journey ahead.”

  A combination of nervousness and sadness at leaving home made his appetite weak, but he tried to eat. It would be quite some time before he would partake of his mother's fine cooking again. When finished, he packed a few pieces of the sweetbread loaf—a specialty of his mother and a favorite in the Telpist house—into a leather pouch. The trip from Reven’s Landing to Westmarch could take as long as three days, and to have a snack on the road would be a luxury and a welcome reminder of home.

  “You've barely eaten anything, Ma,” he said, noticing her watching him.

  A smile crept across her lips. “It's all right, Lae. I'll eat as soon as I get back from the Reven’s.”

  He wiped his face with a napkin and dropped it on his half-empty plate. “I'm ready to go when you are. I can't eat another bite.”

  Bowing her head, she stood. She took her traveling shawl from the shelf above the coat rack and wrapped her shoulders with it. When Laren came downstairs, he saw the concerned, loving look in her eyes.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Take care, brother.”

  He smiled, taking in the warmth and gentleness of her embrace. “Watch out for Mother while I'm away.”

  She stepped back and nodded. Turning to follow his mother out the door, he was soon following his mother on the road to town.

  Through the trees, the summer sun shone upon the dirt path before them. Most would find it uncomfortable to travel on such a warm day with what Filadrena wore, but she managed to keep from breaking a sweat. Laedron fondly remembered what she had always told her children: a woman must always be proper and dress according to her status, and the ladies of Reven’s Landing held her in high regard. In respect of her rules, she was often seen concealing her fine black locks under beautiful hats and ensuring as little skin as possible showed at any given time.

  Due to its seaside placement and hilly terrain, Reven’s Landing's wheat mill sat atop one of the taller foothills on the outskirts of town. The miller didn’t have the benefit of a river swift enough to power his industry, but the wind was just as effective at keeping the grinders churning out fresh flour. Approaching the massive structure, Laedron could hear the rhythmic sound of the huge wheel turning with the constant breeze. Marac and Bordric were already outside packing a wagon for the journey to Westmarch.

  “Hail, Reven!” Filadrena waved after she and Laedron topped the path.

  “Bannorette Telpist, what brings you here so early this morning?” Bordric asked, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the morning sun. Marac’s father was another of the townsfolk who used her official title, and Laedron thought it was more out of fear than respect.

  She continued on the path until she was close enough to speak at a reasonable volume. “I have a proposition for you, Reven.”

  “I certainly can't decline to at least hear what you have to say, but I'm busy getting the wheat ready for market.”

  Laedron dipped his head to Marac, and he nodded back.

  “I have need to add a parcel to your shipment, sir. Can you indulge me?” she said.

  Bordric scratched his chin. “How big a parcel, ma'am?”

  Calling Laedron over to stand beside her, she held her hand at the top of his head. “Oh, about this tall, about as heavy as my boy.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean for me to take your son with us to Westmarch?”

  “I do, Mr. Reven.” She smiled.

  “But why?”

  “You know he's to attend training as a mage soon, yes? Let's just say that the day has come sooner than any of us expected. Can you do this for me?”

  Bordric shook his head. “I don't know if I can oblige, Bann' Telpist. We're already loaded down as it is. The horses can't take the extra strain without slowing us considerably.”

  “What's the hurry to get to Westmarch? Afraid the flour will spoil in the heat?”

  “We're already a day late on our trip. We had a slight mishap in the mill.” He paused long enough to give Marac a stern look. “We'll be pushing the horses to the limit to beat the other millers to market this season. The road is long from here to Westmarch.”

  She tapped her chin with a finger. “What if I told you I could make it so you're the first to market? Could you take my son with you then?”

  “There's no way we could make it to market first now. If we left this instant and rode through the nights, it would still take us nearly three days.”

  “Trust me, Mr. Reven. If you take my boy with you, you will make it by the morning tomorrow.”

  Bordric let out a deep laugh. “I've heard it all now. Get us there by morning, eh?”

  “With each of you sleeping while the other drives, yes. That's exactly what I can do for you.”

  “And how do you plan to do that exactly?”

  “Do you forget that I'm a sorceress, Bordric?”

  Her words silenced his laughter. “Well, yes, but I thought that was just for throwing balls of fire or blasting down your foes with lightning.”

  Rolling her eyes, she removed her shawl, handed it to Laedron, and produced a gold-laden wand made of a dark wood. Its appearance was that of a winding branch with an unnatural spiral through its length.

  Bordric raised his hand defensively. “Just a minute, now. I didn't mean to offend you. There's no need for violence.”

  She spoke an incantation and waved the wand, closing her eyes as sparkles of purple flames licked the air nearby. She raised the wand to the sky when she finished the words, then thrust it in the direction of the horses at the head of the wagon.

  With a crackling sound, the pure energy shot through the air, and the smell of jasmine filled Laedron’s nose. The horses reared and snorted while glittering light surrounded them. As fast as they had appeared, the candescent waves dissipated, and the horses resumed their stirring.

  “You have until dawn to get to Westmarch under the spell I've made, Bordric Reven. I can only maintain it for that long. I'd suggest you get going.”

  “Aye, thank you,” Bordric replied, stammering. He let out a sigh, and Laedron suspected he was relieved he hadn’t been transformed into something hideous or disintegrated outright.

  Ma turned to Laedron, who was still awestruck at the powerful spell she had cast. Not being accustomed to seeing his mother using magic, he was impressed by her display. She most often practiced her charms privately, if at all.

  Huggi
ng him, she shed a tear. “Laedron, good luck on your journey. Be cautious of others that you meet, for Ismerelda's message doesn't sit well with me. She knows something that she couldn't put on paper, so be careful. I shall miss you, my son.”

  “I love you, Mother. I'll see you again.” He wrapped his arms around her.

  “When you get there, Ismerelda's house is near the old center of town. The guards have been known to offer directions when asked.”

  Bordric waved at Laedron while he and Marac climbed onto the driver's bench. “Best get on the wagon if you're coming, son. We haven't a moment to spare!”

  Laedron turned and jogged to the cart. He hopped onto the back where he could ride with his feet dangling off the end. With a crack of the reigns, the cart sprang forward and clattered along the rough road. His mother eventually became a small figure in the distance, and he waved at her until she disappeared from view.

  Having spent his childhood in the town which grew smaller and smaller behind him, Laedron was consumed with mixed feelings. He had passed the summers by the sea and the winters gathered in the house around the hearth. His mother and sister had cared for him the times he had fallen ill, and he had cared for them likewise. His excitement notwithstanding, Laedron couldn’t help but feel some measure of fear and anxiety at leaving home and entering the wide world. He wished that Marac was coming with him to stay at Ismerelda's house. At least then he would know someone in the much larger city of Westmarch, but Marac was needed in Reven’s Landing at the mill with his father.

  Climbing across the huge sacks of flour, Marac joined Laedron at the back of the wagon. “Your ma surely has a way with her powers.”

  “I've never seen her use magic that powerful before. Everything she's cast in front of me has been nothing more than a wisp of smoke, if even that.”

  “I wonder why that is, Lae. If I could use magic, I'd have a much simpler life, that's for sure.”

  “She always told me to use spells only when we needed to. Azura teaches us that magic is but one of our tools, and we shouldn't use it to just to be lazy.”

  “Maybe that's why you're a mage, and I'm a miller.”

  “I guess we'll find out if I can learn it. Ismerelda is well-known for quickly figuring out if you meet with her expectations.”

  “Oh, you'll be fine.” He smiled and gestured as if toward the future and spoke in a herald's voice. “Now presenting the Archmage Laedron Telpist, finest magician in all Sorbia and neighboring nations!”

  “Keep it down back there! I'm trying to concentrate on the road,” Bordric shouted over his shoulder. “Silly boys'll spook the horses with all that loud ruckus and fooling about.”

  They laughed and joked back and forth about just how grandiose and spectacular Laedron would become with his training, being careful not to draw the ire of the miller any further. Each comment passed between them was followed by one even greater until Laedron was destined to become the Grand Archmage himself, in addition to ruler of all nations, possessor of all the wealth of Bloodmyr, and the gentleman of every lady even a touch above fair in countenance or well-sculpted in figure. A relief to Laedron, the humor helped ease his troubled mind and tempestuous nerves over the many hours of the trip.

  They traded out steering responsibilities as needed through the evening and night to allow each to take his turn sleeping. The horses, as promised, showed no signs of fatigue or weariness. With Filadrena's spell holding strong, they made amazing time. When he spied the walls of Westmarch early the next morning, Laedron thanked the Creator for the safe journey, while Bordric and Marac—both Heraldan—thanked Azura for her gifts granted through Filadrena's hands.

  In both size and scale, Westmarch was a true city. Its stone walls were tall, thick, and intimidating. A few buildings near the city's center spiraled into the heavens, and a second wall, much smaller and set atop a hill, enclosed the ancient headquarters of the Knights of the Shimmering Dawn, a sacred order of Sorbian knights charged with the defense of the northwestern bannoren. The city was also home to the largest Heraldan temple in the area, and it contained the palatial home of Duke Hadrian Fenric, bannor of Westmarch, protector and overlord of the northlands, and brother of King Xavier II.

  Laedron felt the daunting presence of each tower besetting the sky, of the merlons topping the walls that grinned like a jagged smile, and the silhouettes of soldiers on patrol eying the cart. The soft gray stone of the structures seemed to darken with shadows, but he dismissed it as his imagination playing on his fears. If for no other reason than to be in a safe place away from these discouragements, he almost looked forward to getting to Ismerelda's house. Bordric steered the cart to the western gatehouse, where the city walls towered overhead.

  A squad of guardsmen dressed in shined steel armor greeted them at the portcullis. Laedron nervously eyed their swords and shields; he had never dealt with the guard before. Surrounding the cart, the soldiers inspected it while Bordric spoke to their captain. “Ho, Captain! We bring wheat flour out of Reven’s Landing.”

  The captain nodded. “Well met and greetings. You're Bordric Reven, are you not?”

  “Aye, but I wasn't aware that I was famous 'round these parts,” he replied, dusting his tunic.

  The man lifted the faceplate of his helmet to reveal a stern expression. “I remember your son better. It was I who sent for you to retrieve him after the drink got the better of him. Do you recall the matter some months ago?”

  “Yes, sire. I appreciate your kindness in that matter. He doesn't always behave like that.”

  The captain's eyes narrowed. “Please make sure he remains in control of his faculties in Westmarch. It's a different place and not tolerant to those out of control of themselves.”

  Bordric bowed his head. “May we enter, Captain?”

  The captain looked to the other guards, who reported no suspicions. “You may.” He pointed at the guards inside the gate, and they turned a crank to open it.

  When the portcullis had risen high enough for the wagon to pass, Bordric slapped the horses with the reins. Riding through the gatehouse and into the bustling streets of the city, Laedron caught sight of commoners, yeomen, merchants, and nobles alike crowding the thoroughfares in vast numbers, carrying on with their daily affairs.

  Many of the buildings were constructed the same as his home in Reven’s Landing—stone and dense wooden walls, sturdy roofs, and thick glass. Laedron expected the city would have many structures of stone, though; rich with wide varieties and vast supplies of rock, the region's quarries were able to supply every nearby city with an abundance of materials.

  The wagon rumbled through the streets under Bordric's careful guidance until they arrived at a circular plaza consisting of cobblestones. He drove the horses to a fine space in the market square where his flour might draw the largest crowds.

  “This is where we part ways, Laedron.” Bordric hopped down from the cart with a sigh before grabbing his back.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Reven.” Laedron climbed off the back the cart with Marac following close behind.

  “We'll be in town for a few days. You should come by and visit us if you have the time.”

  Laedron extended his hand to Marac. “I'll do that if I can. In case I never see you again...”

  Marac took his hand and pulled him close to hug him. “We'll see each other again. I'm sure of it, Lae!”

  He nodded, not wanting to say ‘goodbye.’ They released one another from the embrace, and Laedron walked away as Bordric and Marac unloaded the sacks of wheat. They displayed their pleasure as several customers gathered and waited for the miller to conduct business with them.

  Just as Ma had instructed, he followed the westerly road out of the market. Seeing a guard patrolling the lane, he approached the armored man. “Excuse me, sir. Might you tell me where the old center of town lies?”

  “Keep following this road and take your next left,” the guard said with a no-nonsense demeanor.

  Laedron t
hanked the man, but he received a funny look in reply. Having heard stories of how the city folk were less accustomed to politeness, he assumed the look was all he would garner and continued on his way.

  He turned left on the appointed street, then followed the narrow lane. The closeness of the buildings on either side gave the impression that the streets had been built narrowly, without regard to increased activity or taller wagons. Hardly wide enough for a horse, the lane was uncomfortable for more than two people to walk side-by-side.

  It wasn't long before he spotted a placard marked with a moon and stars—a common symbol amongst mages. He recalled the same mark on several of Ma's spellbooks and even on a few of her dress robes hanging in the closet. Placed between two larger buildings, the house appeared small. Passing through a wrought iron gate, he crossed the stone steps on the paltry lawn and arrived at a heavy wooden door. Being timid about meeting Ismerelda, he rapped quietly upon it at first. When no one responded, he knocked louder.

  The door swung wide, revealing a slender, beautiful woman. “Might I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice that reminded him of the few times he had spoken to high, noble ladies.

  Beneath her long, golden hair, her bodice was made of fine silk dyed crimson with golden floral designs. Her black skirt hung a bit below the knee, but it had no decorations or embellishments. Wrapping her at the middle like a belt, a braided golden rope had a rod with a large ruby tucked through it. Laedron had never seen a woman dressed in such splendor, and even his mother didn't clothe herself as richly as the woman before him.

  “Yes, ma'am. I may not be at the right house.” Swallowing deeply, he glanced back at the street. “My name's Laedron Telpist.”

  “You've arrived at the appropriate place, young man. Earlier than I expected, too. Won't you come inside?”

  Confusion filled his mind, and his voice cracked. “You're Madam Ismerelda?”

  The woman took on a curious expression. “I am. You seem confounded by that possibility. Why is that?”

  “I was expecting someone much...” he said, stopping short of an insult.

  “Older?” she asked.

  Laedron shrugged and searched for the words to soften the blow. “Well, yes, ma'am. I wasn't going to say it first, though.”

  A large grin crossing her face, she extended her hand and opened the door completely. “Come in, there is much to discuss.”

  Chapter Five

  The Sorceress Ismerelda