Footwizard

by Terry Mancour

  “Just don’t die,” she admonished, a very serious look in her eye. “It would be bad, if you died. For one thing, it would leave me running this place. And everything else we’re involved in. I have enough to do. So do not die. But you do have Anguin’s blessing – which he will tell you in person, actually,” she mentioned. “He’s going to appear at the Opening of the Palace ceremony in Vorone, with his new bride. He’s expecting you and Marcadine to be in attendance.”

  “Agreed,” I said, with a reluctant sigh. “But I do hope Their Graces understand that I am about to embark on an important expedition that could greatly assist with the war effort.”

  “They do . . . mostly,” she admitted, cutting her eyes away. “They take great pride in their good relationship with His Excellency, the Spellmonger of the Magelaw. Both of them credit you with the restoration of the realm. That doesn’t excuse you from certain social obligations, however,” she said, warningly. “His Grace understands you need to go. You can attend one party before you do so, to support his reign and celebrate his nuptials.”

  “I will, I will,” I assured her. “I just want it understood that I have other plans, this summer. I won’t be able to attend a bunch of garden parties and tournaments.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re very important, doing very important wizard things,” she said, without much sympathy. “And I do know how important this journey is, Minalan. Of all people, I know,” she said, a little too emphatically. “But as tawdry as they are, our politics matters, too. Our support of Anguin and Rardine early in their reign is vital. It shows our enemies our unity of purpose and demonstrates to our allies and vassals that their leadership is united.”

  “I understand the importance of politics, Penny,” I assured her. “I just want to ensure the Duke understands the importance of my work – beyond the politics.”

  “More than you know,” she said, firmly. “Indeed, more than any other crown or coronet in the duchies. Anguin appreciates how the arcane impacts the mundane, and vice versa. The magi have proven themselves to him.

  “That being said,” she continued, “His Grace cannot ignore the vital role the magi currently play in politics. Especially when he is facing a hostile royal government and considerable number of rebels who persist in contesting his rule,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “If he cannot count upon the support of the most powerful gentlemen in the duchy . . .” she said, trailing off. I could infer the remainder of her argument.

  “Fine, fine, I’ll go,” I conceded. “As long as it is before my departure date. That cannot be delayed, if what Fondaras says is correct. We have a very narrow time of opportunity. If I am to accomplish what I set out to, I will need every moment of it.”

  “As long as you show up to the party at Vorone, you can do whatever else you want this summer,” she agreed. “But you need to support the Duke. Especially now,” she emphasized. “There is a movement growing to supplant him. Either based on his perceived weakness, or his perceived alliances with Castal. But there is a large and growing number of the minor nobility in Enultramar that favors confrontation with Rard and Tavard. Some of them backed the rebel counts, but more and more loyalists are coming to that opinion. I’ve spent the last year putting down revolts and rebellion; I don’t want to see that work go to waste,” she admitted.

  “There shouldn’t be much for you to do here, now that the wars are over with, for the moment,” I suggested. “The Goblin King and I are going to sign a nonaggression treaty, and I think that Tavard might have learned his lesson after he meddled with the Magelaw.” I explained to her my stratagem of employing the troops he’d paid to attack me against the forces of Shakathet. “I sent him a lovely letter thanking him for the support. Hopefully, that will keep him out of the way for the foreseeable future.”

  Pentandra frowned – which was almost never a good thing.

  “I don’t know, Min,” she sighed. “I’ve probably got better contacts at the Royal Court than you do, especially after the Aunt Marladine Affair, but from what I understand Tavard is hells-bent on humbling you before he takes the throne.”

  “A day I hope is long from now,” I nodded. “In the meantime, I will continue to advocate for and protect my lands. For all magelands,” I corrected. “Vanador and Sevendor are a good start. They give us some temporal strength.”

  “They also give Prince Tavard a target,” she pointed out. “Don’t worry, I’ll be glad to deal with Tavard and the Ducal Court of Castal while you’re gone. With Duke Anguin at Vorone, I can’t imagine Tavard taking any action against the Magelaw. Which is all the more reason you need to be at that reception.”

  “We’ll be at the party,” I promised. “I’ll even wear my funny hat.”

  “We wouldn’t expect anything less of the mighty and sage Spellmonger,” she agreed, smiling.

  It was good to have Penny back. Even if it was just for a little while.

  The next few days were largely devoid of drama and filled with pleasant memories. After the hardships of war and the strain of politics, it was good to be back with some of my old friends again.

  Having Sire Cei’s family and Pentandra and Arborn’s family all at Spellgarden at the same time meant an emphasis on the children that, I think, all of us welcomed. The kids didn’t care about rank or station; they were far more interested in imagination and playtime. I took endless pleasure in watching them contrive one impressive game after another, down in the courtyard, while the older, wiser, and decidedly more boring adults convened in the upper chambers of the tower. I was commending my children to Pentandra’s care, while Alya and I were gone. It was gratifying to watch them play so well together while I was plotting my escape.

  “What, exactly, do you expect to discover in the wilderness, my lord?” Lady Estret asked, politely, as we stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Faresa, her daughter by her first marriage, was contending leadership with one faction of the children with my daughter Ismina, and it was quite entertaining.

  “I honestly am uncertain, my lady,” I admitted. “Our expedition to Anghysbel is a multifold quest. There are many secrets concealed in that secret land. Secrets older than mankind’s tenure on this world, from what I understand. Secrets I hope will lead to some better understanding of our difficulties. And some hint of how we might overcome them.”

  “I do hope so, my lord,” Estret said, lightly. “And I wish you Ifnia’s luck and the blessings of the gods on your quest . . . but I also hope you understand how many of us have worries revolving around the absence of the Spellmonger at such a crucial time.”

  Her meaning was obvious. I had presumed on Sire Cei’s time and attention for two solid years by making him the Steward of Sevendor during my absence in exile. While the honor of the position was clear, so was the imposition. Acting as the temporary baron had been a strain on Sire Cei. While Lady Estret appreciated the necessity of the appointment, and understood the honor involved, she was also bearing the brunt of the inconvenience of it.

  By all accounts, Sire Cei’s stewardship over my barony had been exemplary. There had been no illicit attacks during his tenure, nor had there been any serious disruptions in the services the barony provided the domains within its frontiers. The markets were packed. The revenues were high. The people were prosperous, under Sire Cei.

  “You are not alone,” I admitted to the lady, in a fit of candor. “I, myself, am unsure if this is the wisest course of action. But I have to plead that there is more at stake than mere political advantage. My lady, I assure you that I would not be undertaking this expedition at this difficult time if I did not think it would, in the long run, give us advantage.”

  “Advantage for what, my lord?” she asked, pointedly. “You are our greatest defender against the whims of the Crown. I credit you, my lord, for the stability the Bontal Vales has enjoyed – more than stability, our general prosperity,” she insisted. “Our folk have never enjoyed a higher standard of living. Yet, in your absence, you invite the attention of
forces that would see that diminished.”

  “You speak of Prince Tavard, my lady,” I observed.

  “The wrath of His Highness is well known,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Especially toward Sevendor. And the Spellmonger. Though we endured the same desolation from the dragon that Castabriel suffered.”

  “I have done what I can to shield Sevendor, and the Bontal Vales, from His Highness’ ire,” I sighed. “Indeed, I have bribed him liberally . . . only to see those bribes used to raise an army against me. An army that I turned against my more earnest foes,” I chuckled.

  “It appears your children have inherited your devious nature, my lord,” she said, as she watched our two little girls argue amidst a crowd of other children. “And perhaps your good judgement. I wish I could say the same about our Prince. Faresa! Screeching is not ladylike!” she reproved, firmly.

  “King Rard is a good man, but every father has his failings. Allowing the Queen to take such a hand in Tavard’s upbringing has made him rebellious and arrogant. I had hoped that marriage and family would temper his youthful impulses, but he inherited his father’s power as Duke too young, and is apt to listen to unwise counsel. I think – Almina! Almina!” I said, trying to get my daughter’s attention, “that is not a nice name! Apologize!” I commanded.

  “My lord husband agrees – privately,” Estret informed me, with a smile. “Cei is concerned that Tavard seeks to strike at you through Sevendor. He’s been quietly preparing for it since you went into exile. He has had the Karshak accelerate their progress on the new castle and has been increasing the garrison. He hopes it will not be needed.”

  “So do I, but it’s not really up to – Almina! Almina! Stop that! No hitting! No hitting!” I said, and dropped the affairs of the world. Someone needed a spanking.

  Chapter Three

  Preparing for the Expedition

  Every Good Fellow of the Road knows these truths; they are what define our vocation, as we trade our meager talents for bed and board along the dusty trails of the hinterlands. Every good wizard has a quest, or more than one, a calling beyond our immediate need to which we devote our efforts beyond mere survival, to enrich the lives of those who often castigate our efforts. Our quest may be impossible, unlikely, or commonplace, but once we have committed ourselves to the sanctity of the mission, a good wizard does not withdraw his attention from a quest, no matter how impossible the fulfilment might seem. Indeed, the more impossible the quest, the greater the honor and glory to the wizard for fulfilling it.

  Fondaras the Wise,

  Footwizard of Alshar

  Fondaras and Gareth were waiting for me in Gareth’s office in Vanador, in a special room set aside specifically to prepare for the expedition. I had devoted considerable resources to it. Considering what was at stake, I wanted the best possible chance at success. Surviving the trip would be nice, too. Therefore a thorough preparation was essential. Gareth was excellent at organization, while Fondaras had actually been to where we were going and knew it.

  Visually and professionally, the two men were about as different as night and day. Gareth was young, highly intelligent, Academy-trained and honed for his position by years of studious work and practical experience with enchantment and thaumaturgy. Fondaras, by contrast, was an old, weather-worn footwizard whose wisdom was legendary, and whose magic was largely self-taught. He had traveled the length of the Wilderlands and beyond, in long and storied career.

  I had to count on both men to prepare for our journey to Anghysbel. It might sound like bureaucratic excess to devote the resources I had to the outing, but then my initial plan had been for me, Tyndal and a couple of men-at-arms to head north.

  That plan had changed completely. It looked like everyone and their third cousin wanted to accompany the Spellmonger to a place where magic didn’t work. I tried not to read too much irony into that.

  Not only had Alya insisted on going, but the list of volunteers and interested parties had grown. The Karshak and the Dradrien, for one, had officially requested that they send representatives with the expedition to inspect the welfare of the Kilnusk clan – once the leaders of all the dwarven clans, now in exile over some scandal a few centuries back. Lilastien was also going as the medic for the expedition and representative of the Alka Alon Council – something I know had rankled several members, but I had insisted. Ithalia would also be going as a representative of the Alka Alon Council, to search for the lost scion of Amadia, Ameras, only daughter of the late Aronin.

  Gareth, himself, would accompany us as one of my thaumaturges, taking a well-deserved break from his duties as administrator of Vanador. His . . . paramour? Girlfriend? Consort? Sky Captain Nattia would also be going, flying her giant hawk overhead while we crawled our way through the alkali desert. Tyndal was going, as he was technically the liege over the place as Viscount of Callierd. He planned on bringing along a few of his gentlemen as guards. And Fondaras, of course. He was the only member of the party who had been to the strange land before.

  But then there were others who had tacked themselves on to the expedition for various reasons. Indeed, the composition of the company was our first matter to discuss.

  “Ormar the Shroudmaker wants to go,” Gareth related, after we’d settled in to plan out the last-minute details. “He’s interested in examining the geology and the alchemy of the wastes, and what lies beyond.”

  Ormar was a former warmage whose passion was alchemy; he was in charge of the mysterious Stenchworks, a special installation somewhere in the foothills of the Kulines that produced rare elements and alchemical reagents for the duchy. Its exact location was a state secret, one of the most closely held state secrets, at that. I wasn’t certain why, but Pentandra had kept that knowledge even from me.

  “Considering he’s providing the leather hoods that will help us get through the wastes, I would say it is wise to include him,” Fondaras offered.

  “You really think those hoods will help?” I asked, surprised.

  “He uses them when working on noxious chemicals,” Gareth explained. “He has some method of filtering the air, so his alchemists don’t die while they’re working with certain reagents. And they’re nonmagical. Fondaras has said we can make the journey without them, but it will be a lot easier with them. Besides, his expertise might come in handy,” Gareth reasoned.

  “If you say so,” I conceded. I knew very little about alchemy – it was one of my worst subjects at the academy. But I also knew Ormar was well respected by my colleagues – Pentandra, especially – and if there were any alchemical issues, I’d be useless. Alchemy was one of the few disciplines that didn’t rely completely on magic, which meant it might play an outsized role in a place where magic didn’t work. And it was one of my worst subjects at the Academy.

  “The Kasari also want to send a small group along with us,” Gareth continued. “They have a camp there – it’s been there for centuries, apparently.”

  “It’s where they send their magically Talented people, if their abilities are unable to be controlled,” Fondaras explained. “It’s a small community, but it gives them an opportunity to live relatively normal lives without the burden of rajira. They wish to send four or five of their folk with us, along with two rangers as escorts. Both have also been through the wastes, before, so that will help.”

  “Is it really that dangerous?” I asked, perhaps a bit anxiously. I was taking my wife through it, after all.

  “Yes, it is,” Fondaras said, frankly, as he stroked his long beard. “It’s not impassable, but if you are unaware of the dangers, you can fall prey to them quite easily. Many have, over the years. Their bones still litter the wastes. We will have to bring our own water, for instance, until we get to Tyr Morannan. That’s the ancient depot the Kasari made at the midpoint of the journey that we can take some shelter in, but it’s the last place you’ll be able to do any real magic. After that, you’ll have to rely on your wits and your wisdom.”

  “Don’t forget to tell
him about the beasts,” Gareth reminded him. Apparently, they had already been discussing the trip.

  “Ah, yes, the fearsome creatures of the wastes,” nodded Fondaras, sagely. “There are only a few species who can survive the desolation, but those that do are strange and exotic. And highly aggressive,” he added. “There are some solitary predators and some pack hunters. Some creatures lurk amongst the rocks and sand. There are even plants that can be aggressive if you are unaware of their tricks. And there are a few insects that are quite deadly if you are bitten. But none of them are edible. We must bring along our own food and fodder for any beasts, as well as water.”

  “And remember, no magic, for the second half of the trip,” Gareth added. “But I have some ideas about how we can maximize our efforts, when we reach this place, what was it called—”

  “Tyr Morannan,” Fondaras supplied. “It means ‘sanctuary,’ in Kasari. It’s just a modest shelter over a very deep well, but it’s the only place we can get potable water during the journey through the wastes. And it does provide some temporary protection from the surrounding wildlife.”

  “Yes, Tyr Morannan. I think we can expand the outpost and improve the journey,” Gareth proposed. He then whipped out a scroll of notes and outlined his plan. It was impressive, but it was well within our magical capabilities. Especially after two magically-intensive wars.

  “And don’t forget about Forseti,” I added, at the end of his presentation. “He will be coming along. He wants to inspect a possible installation built by the Ancients that may have survived. A relic of the colonization,” I explained. “He’s hoping to find some clues to lead us to the Forsaken. Or at least shed some light on how their civilization fell. He might be useful in your placements. And he doesn’t need food or water, just a bit of sunshine.”

  “I was counting on that, actually,” Gareth agreed. “In fact, he’s already informed some of my plans. If this works out, the journey won’t be so dangerous in the future. We could see a bit more interaction between the domain in Anghysbel and the rest of the Magelaw.”