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

by Brian Kittrell

Laedron arrived home after what seemed like an eternity, his mind drifting through the tapestry of his life. Ma was outside sweeping the dust from the porch as he approached. She always cursed the winds for stirring the soil and disturbing her clean surfaces, but she was quick to be thankful when it cooled the kitchen in the hottest months.

  Most of the houses around Reven’s Landing consisted of dirt floors and light wood frames, but his family was fortunate to have a quality home. Even in the hottest months, the flagstones flooring the place were often cool to the touch and gave a pleasurable feeling to the feet following a day's labors. After investing most of his money on materials, his father had built a home of strong timbers and stone for his family.

  Laedron had planned on telling his mother that his mind was made up and he wanted to attend Morcaine, but seeing her caused him to have doubts that she would take the news well. His heart sinking, he approached the house. It wasn't difficult to imagine the prospect of never seeing the front of his house again; at least, not for a very long time.

  Ma looked up as he drew closer. “Lae, good to see you, my son. Any luck today?” she asked, sweeping the remaining dirt from the planks of the porch.

  “Yea, Ma. I caught a nice-sized redfish.” He raised the basket for her inspection.

  With a rub of her stomach, she quivered with delight. “Oh, I can taste it already. A pinch of salt, a squeeze of lemon, and that fish will be quite fine, I'd say. Come along, bring it in, and we'll fillet it.” After leaning the broom against the wall, she led the way inside. “Let's see this mighty catch, then.”

  Placing the basket on the kitchen counter, he opened it. “It should be plenty for us. Laren doesn't care for fish.”

  “Yes, that girl will never gather any meat to her bones if she eats only greens from the garden. I can't convince her otherwise, though. She's as stubborn as your father was, rest his soul.”

  He nodded. “Do you need me to do anything for you, Ma?”

  “I'm fed up with this blasted heat, and the breeze hasn't been coming in strong through this end today. Could you fetch us some lemons and sage from the garden?”

  Burning in the back of his mind, the decision begged to be uttered, but he wanted to wait for a better time. “Yeah.”

  “Lae, when you come back, could you pick through the larder for some salt?”

  “Yes, Ma,” he said, opening the back door of the house and stepping through.

  His mother maintained a large garden compared to many others in the township. Not only was it wide and bountiful, it held a number of different fruits and vegetables—even ones uncommon to the region or from distant countries. Having traveled the world over, Filadrena had taken extra time in the places she had visited to collect things she favored. The lemons came from a country called Qal'Phamet far to the south and across the sea, and they were more bitter than the local breed. Dinner guests often commented that the taste of seafood was brought up more than only a meager sum with the application of his Ma’s lemons and spices.

  Had she been of the enterprising sort, Filadrena Telpist could have made a profitable business from her assortment of herbs, spices, and other flora, but she was content to give away a few things here and there, instead. Perhaps that was why the townsfolk continued to provide the customary tribute due to bannors of the realm, even though not required by law.

  “Collect some Wildertea while you're at it,” she yelled from the kitchen window.

  He grimaced as he looked at the Wildertea plant. Pods containing black seeds, grainy and fragile, hung from its limbs. When boiled in water, the seeds dissolved, and the resulting mixture was imbibed as a fine tea. He didn't enjoy it without a flavoring, though, as the natural taste was abrupt and heavy; sweetening his tea with a sprig of Meriwether had become a habit, and he readily found a mature bud on the vine.

  By the time he returned, his ma was well into the task of filleting the fish and making it ready for the oven. After placing the fish on a baking platter, she sliced the vegetables into small bits with precision. The lemons came next, then she added a variety of fragrant herbs and spices.

  “Thank you, my boy,” she said as he handed her the items from the garden. “I see you picked a bit of Meriwether to go in yours.”

  “Yeah, Ma. It's quite bitter by itself.” His face contorted as he remembered the taste.

  “I bet you'll grow into it one day. Fetch your sis.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She's off by the creek practicing her spells again. Girl's as secretive as any mage I've ever seen.”

  He recalled a certain incident where a fire had been found to be the cause of some missing drapes from an upstairs room of the house. “Should I be worried?”

  “No, the lesson from last week's mistake should be well-remembered by now.”

  Dipping his head, he walked out the back door of the cottage. Laren was still considered a neonate by the standards of a mage. She still practiced lesser magic and had trouble grasping the concepts she needed to proceed to a proper academy. At thirteen, she should have been more advanced, but her shortcomings notwithstanding, she had the drive and spirit to keep with her studies. Nonetheless, he was afraid for her future. If she couldn't master the most basic of incantations, she'd never be granted entry into any of the Sorbian mage schools.

  He traversed the brush and thickets that lay between his home and the nearby creek. Practicing her spells in the peace and solitude of nature was her custom, a preference neither Laedron nor Filadrena encouraged. If she couldn't use her magic in busy or distracting places such as a mage school, she wouldn't stand a chance, no matter how much she tried. Seeming to ignore their advice for the time being, she trained how she wanted; she once explained her plan, which involved mastering spellcraft on her own without interference until she was ready.

  Approaching the creek, he spied her standing near the water's edge. Her auburn curls fluttered with the breeze and fell over her blue eyes before being tucked away. As he watched, he found her technique to be sluggish and haphazard; the pronunciation of the charm was off by an octave and a syllable, and she didn’t maintain a tight grasp on her wand. Though he wanted to correct her, he resisted; in his mind, to interfere without giving her an opportunity to try would do nothing to benefit her. With bated breath, he waited to see what would happen next.

  Her skirt was damp at the bottom, the probable cause being a misstep that had sent her into the shallows of the creek. Her blouse was besmirched by a few scorch marks, likely from carelessness and the flailing of her arms. If he hadn't known any better, he would have guessed she was a common laborer who had gone through an unfortunate accident with a lantern.

  She waved the wand and stammered through an incantation, and a fizzle of electric energy bolted from the end of her wand and dissipated as quickly as it had been created. Taking her stance again and narrowing her eyes as if she were facing off against some unseen enemy, she waved the wand in a tighter motion and invoked the proper wording with a confident articulation. A bolt of lightning shot out across the still water of the creek. Sparks and smoke filled the air, and a tree limb dropped to the ground.

  She gasped in surprise. Laedron's eyes grew wide at the spectacle, as well. He had never seen Laren perform a spell so well, and it was an advanced spell, at that. Even with his knowledge and experience, he didn't think he could cast such magic with the resulting effect.

  Walking out from the thicket, he said, “That was some fine work, Laren.”

  She turned in his direction but lowered her shaking hand when she caught sight of him. “Thanks, Lae. How long have you been watching?”

  So as not to break her confidence, he omitted the truth. “I just walked up as I heard the bolt. And a fine bolt it was!”

  “Thank you, brother. Has Ma sent you after me?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You have that look on your face. Besides, the only time you come and get me from down here is when she calls.”

  Even though
he didn't agree with her methods, he decided it was better to let her practice. The only way she'd ever become an admitted mage would be through 'finding her way to the magic,' as his mother called it. Having witnessed her recent display, he was impressed with her ability to conjure a spell greater than he could, though he wondered what had instilled those newfound skills in her.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you, sis, but Ma’s wanting us both back. You and I both know you’ll need all the practice that you can get if you're to be going to school in a few years.”

  She gathered her cloak and other belongings from the ground. “I know, but I can't practice with others watching.”

  Leading the way through the copse, he held a branch high enough for her to pass beneath it. “You have to get over that if you're going to the schools. They don't have time for insecurities there.”

  “That's why I train, dear brother. I train so I won't feel embarrassed, so I won't fail as often.”

  “Each has his own way,” he said. “You'll have to find yours in time.”

  “Now you're talking like Ma, Lae. Did she say what she wanted?”

  “For supper. I caught a redfish this afternoon, and she's at the house cleaning it up for us now.”

  “Oh, redfish. I can't really say I'm excited at the prospect.”

  “I got lucky at the pier. It's a healthy one, to boot. She's busy preparing some vegetables for you to pick through, so you won't be forced to eat the fish tonight.”

  Though eager to discuss the matters between her and Marac, he kept things to himself. Approaching the cottage a few minutes later, Laedron observed a pillar of gray smoke rising from the chimney, and the smell of burning maple permeated the air. The mere idea of redfish sliding down his throat enticed him to pick up speed.

  Upon entering the house, Laren was quick to tell her mother of her training session. “I did it, Ma! I cast lightning!”

  Filadrena glanced at both of them with a curious eye. “Lightning? You must be talking about a flash-bolt.”

  “No, she shot a bolt of lightning. It severed a limb from the big maple by the creek.”

  She looked over at her daughter with a sense of amazement. “So, you can call the lightning now, can you, girl?”

  Laren was exuberant and, for a first in a long time, confident about her magic. “Yes, Ma! I'm finally learning!”

  “I never taught you that spell. Have you been reading my tomes again?”

  She glanced at every corner of the room. “No, Ma. I'd never read your tomes without your permission.”

  “If you've been reading those tomes, you’d best tell me now, Laren. The conjurations in those pages aren't for young mages. They're far too dangerous.”

  “No, ma'am. I swear it.” Waving her hands, she shook her head in denial.

  “Where did you learn about them, then, if not from one of my tomes?” Filadrena didn’t seem to care that a pot of potatoes was close to boiling over.

  “I must've accidentally done the lightning.” Her head sank as she spoke, her confidence obviously waning.

  Looking down her nose at the girl, Filadrena maintained a firm expression, but then relaxed and let out a sigh. Stepping to Laren's side, she wrapped her arms about her. “I don't want you getting into those tomes and getting yourself in trouble. Even fourth-years shouldn't be reading pages the likes of those.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” Laren rested her head on her mother's arm. “I wouldn't disobey you, especially not when it comes to the tomes.”

  Ma kissed Laren’s forehead and released her. “The words for lightning are similar to those of the flash-bolt. Go wash up for supper, you two. It's almost ready.”

  After changing clothes and washing up, Laedron went toward the end of the upstairs hallway, but he paused when he reached his mother's room, noticing Laren standing inside with her back to the door.

  Entering the room, he remained silent. He felt it his obligation as a big brother to spy on his younger sister without her knowledge. As he crept through the room and around the bed, he saw an old book in her hands.

  “You’ve been reading Mother's tomes after all?” he asked. “Are you mad, girl?”

  She dropped the heavy book, and the thud reverberated through the floor as it struck. Her eyes wide with shock, Laren stared at him.

  “What's going on up there?” Filadrena asked from below.

  “Please don't tell,” Laren said, putting her hand in his.

  Giving her a long, stern look, he turned his head toward the door. “Tripped on the board again.” Laren smiled at his lie.

  “I'm nailing it down for good today!” his mother said. “Can't have my kids breaking their necks on it.”

  “Thank you,” Laren said with a sigh.

  “Thank you? That's all you can say?” Laedron picked up the book from the floor and flipped through the pages. “I’m not in the habit of lying to Ma, and you shouldn’t be, either.”

  “I'm trying to do better. I got tired of trying the basic spells, so I started looking into Ma's books. Those are easier than the simple incantations.”

  He gazed at her with disapproval. “We have to have a foundation in magic before we can move on to things such as this, Laren. We're supposed to practice with safe magic until we go for our training.”

  “I know, and I'm sorry. I just want Mother to be proud. That's all.”

  He bobbed his head agreeably, knowing exactly what she meant and how she felt at that very moment. “All right. Let’s go down and have a nice supper, and tomorrow, we’ll practice.”

  She smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  “Me,too,” he said, trying to hide his begrudging attitude about the proposition. “It will be my pleasure.”

  They joined Filadrena in the kitchen not long afterward to find the stovetop and oven working at full capacity.

  “Everything turn out all right?” Filadrena asked, passing plates to them.

  “What?” Laedron asked fearfully, but then he realized what she meant. “Oh, yes. Stubbed my toe on it, but it'll be fine.”

  “Your father built this house with great care, but we had to expect some problems over the years,” Filadrena said. “Nothing stands forever without a quirk or a need for repairs to be made.”

  Having glimpsed the pages of her secret books, Laedron became curious. “Ma, what else is in the tomes?”

  “High magic, my boy.”

  “Am I old enough to look upon the pages?” he asked with longing.

  “No, you're not ready for such magic. A simple mistake when dealing with high magic is enough to destroy you outright, and not in any pleasant way, I might add.”

  Taking a seat on a dining chair, he sighed. “How long do you think it will take before I can do magic like that?”

  “Some are never able to get to that point, Lae. In those pages lie the most powerful of all incantations. Only a mage learned in all the ins and outs of spells can hope to safely read those books.”

  “What happens to the ones who aren't ready?” he asked, resting his arms on the table.

  “They usually meet their ends very quickly. Magic can turn on those who wield it carelessly. The First Mage teaches us temperance with magic, and we must obey.”

  After pausing for a while, he stared at his boots with his arms folded across his chest. “I've made up my mind.”

  “Have you now? And what have you decided?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “Morcaine.”

  “Morcaine is nice, my boy. Its spires stretch into the sky, but nice doesn't always mean best. Ismerelda's the best, the best by far.”

  “How do you know that, Ma? Have you ever met her before?”

  Her eyes shifted and twitched. “Met her? Why, yes. I've met her on occasion.”

  “Is there something you're not telling me?” Laedron asked.

  Wiping her hands with a scrap of cloth, she sat beside him. “I didn't want to tell you, but I also trained under Ismerelda.”

 
“You? That was over thirty years ago! How can that be? Why didn't you tell me before?”

  “I didn't want our past interfering with your training.”

  “Is that why you want me to study from her instead of attending Morcaine?”

  “At least one of our family must train with Ismerelda. It's always been the way.”

  His finger traced the contours of the sturdy oak table. “I'm choosing Morcaine. The tradition will have to be broken or left to Laren.”

  With a deep sigh and a shrug, she said, “I'm afraid not. We can’t leave the responsibility to your sister.”

  “What do you mean, Ma?” he asked. “It's my choice, isn't it?”

  “Your application didn't make it to the headmaster at Morcaine. Only the one to Ismerelda was ever sent.”

  “What?” He stood and stared at her. “What happened to it?”

  “I burned it, Lae.”

  “Burned it?” He felt the heat of anger in his face, and he balled his fists.

  “Laedron Telpist, you will sit and listen to me!” Rising to her feet, she looked him in the eyes with a fire of her own. He knew she was serious, and he sat on his chair again and closed his mouth.

  “I'm sorry, son. I've been stressed lately with you leaving soon. Laren won't be far behind you, and I'll be all alone. It's not easy seeing your children grow up.”

  He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. “I thought the choice was mine. Why, Ma? Why would you keep me from going to Morcaine if that’s what I wanted?”

  She took her seat beside him and placed her hand on his. “It's our place in the world, Laedron. The first in every generation of our entire family has trained under the regnant magister of Westmarch. It's our family's tradition, one I don't intend to break now. Not in times such as these.”

  “I don't understand. How can Ismerelda be better than all of the mages of Morcaine? She's just one woman.”

  “Don't doubt her, Laedron. Never doubt her. Do we doubt Azura? She was just one woman, too.”

  “She's a legend, though. No one ever built a church to honor Ismerelda.”

  “Now you're just talking out of your head. You have to learn to listen, and you should never underestimate anyone. Ismerelda's a great sorceress.”

  “Fine, Mother. You won't hear any more complaining from me about it. If you want her to teach me, then I'll go there.” Although the idea ripped his heart, he knew he wasn't going to dissuade his mother from the proposition, and it was far too late to prepare a new application for Morcaine. Determined to see him train in Westmarch, she had sealed his fate in the nearby fire pit.

  She patted him on the knee as she stood. “Good. I think you're worrying too much about it. She's a good teacher and an excellent mage if you'll just give her the chance and your time.”

  He nodded, but frustration still clouded his mind. “I don't understand why you never told me of these traditions before.”

  “You’re the first one to ever choose Morcaine over Westmarch. All of our ancestors chose Westmarch without question,” she said, her voice carrying a kind note. “Can you trust me this time, son? Give her a chance, and I really think you'll be impressed with her many abilities.”

  “Very well.” They exchanged an easier smile. “I'm sorry for getting angry, Ma.”

  Stroking his raven locks, she nodded and patted his hand. “It's all right. No harm done, my boy. Let's just enjoy this supper you've brought us.”

  Staring into the fireplace, he remembered how he had been intimidated by Morcaine and felt some sort of relief in not being judged against so many other students. Perhaps Ma’s right, after all, he thought.

  After helping their mother move the meal to the table, Laren took a seat to his left, and they partook in the splendorous sights and smells of the meal before them.

  “I think we should thank the Creator for the meal this time.” Filadrena sat and reached across the table. Laedron and Laren joined hands with her and then with one another.

  It was a common practice amongst mages to worship the recognized god of creation, known simply as the Creator. Whereas Heraldans would worship Azura as they did the creator, the mages did not; they respected her, but they did not worship her. When she deemed necessary, Filadrena would call for prayer to the Creator for goodness, blessings, and aid. Their religion differed in many ways from the Heraldans, and the tenets of their faith were considered blasphemous by those who didn’t practice magic.

  Closing his eyes, he listened to their mother's prayers. She asked for the Creator to continue to protect the family and guide them, and she gave thanks for the bountiful harvests, the healthy and productive fruit trees, hearty vegetables, and all of the other gifts she attributed to the work of the heavens. She ended the prayer with, “Creator be praised.” He and Laren repeated the phrase.

  They all delighted in the first course: a fresh garden salad picked with great care earlier in the day. Next came the redfish with a steamed vegetable medley seasoned with fresh lemons, pepper, and sea salt. Though she refused the fish, Laren was fast to fill her platter with every sort of vegetable available.

  When they finished eating, Laedron noticed a worried expression burdening his mother’s features. “Is anything bothering you? You seem troubled.”

  She placed her folded hands in her lap. “I hate to see you go, my boy. It will only be a matter of time before Laren leaves the nest, too. I'll miss my children.”

  “We won't stay gone forever, though. We'll come back to visit from time to time.”

  She choked on her tears but kept her composure. “Don't you worry about your old ma. You do what you’re supposed to do. You go out into the world and make something of yourself, my boy.”

  “I don't want you to feel sad, though.”

  “You always knew my heart, Lae. Ever since you were a small boy, you could tell my feelings.” She paused, then smiled and placed her hand on his. “Who knows? When Laren goes to her training, maybe I'll travel a while and see the world again. This time, I’ll be more experienced, that's for sure!”

  He returned her smile. Seeing his mother in such a sad state was disheartening, but his training was a necessity to continue the family tradition, to carry on their line. Laren's was a part of that tradition, also. It would be unnatural for there not to be a studied mage in the Telpist family, but following the path laid before them was difficult nonetheless.

  Laren shrugged. “Maybe we could put off my training for a while?”

  “No, that Reven boy already tried to delay your training for long enough. No, you'll go to your school, and you'll be out seeing the world.”

  Feigning ignorance, Laedron said, “What do you mean? I thought Marac broke things off between you.”

  Filadrena wiped her nose and turned to him. “No, it wasn't to be. Laren's training is much more important than resolving to be a simple wife in a tiny village.”

  “He told me he didn't want to be married yet, that he was too young.”

  “Well, that's the half of it. I talked with Bordric about the situation, and we both came to conclusion that Laren and Marac weren’t to be betrothed.”

  “Can you make decisions for her like that? What if she feels differently? How do you feel about it, Laren?”

  Filadrena spoke before Laren. “It was decided by everyone involved, Lae. All of us thought it would be better if they didn’t commit to wed so hastily. Even Laren.”

  “She's right, brother. I must finish my training before I decide to settle with a man. The training is more important.”

  “And Marac was all right with this line of thinking?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  With a sustained nod and a matter-of-fact tone, Ma said, “Of course, my son. He enjoys the night life and his drink, so why would he disagree?”

  “Do you think that his recent turn to drinking and being out all night might have something to do with this decision? Perhaps he's trying to deal with it in the wrong way because he truly loves her?”
>
  “We're mages, Laedron. We have to make difficult decisions sometimes, and not everyone understands the reasons.”

  “Perhaps I'm just stubborn, Ma. Maybe I don't see how it could be any better keeping two people apart who love each other in favor of traditions. I'm going to train, so the tradition will continue forward. Doesn't that mean Laren could pursue her own path?”

  “It's my decision as much as it is Ma's and Bordric Reven's. I want to continue my learning, Lae. There's no need to talk about it further,” Laren said.

  “All right, sis. If you tell me it was as much your decision as everyone else's, then I'll never worry about it again.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for dinner, Ma. It was amazing. I'm going to bed.”

  “Good night, Laren,” Filadrena said, kissing her forehead as it was presented.

  He stood and gathered the dishes as was his nightly duty. Without another word, he piled them in the sink, pumped water from the crank, and started scrubbing.

  “One day, I hope you'll understand all of this, Lae,” his mother said, her voice sinking to a whisper.

  “Oh, I understand it. I just don't know if I agree with it. You taught us the only destiny we have is the one we make for ourselves.” He gave her a stern look.

  “This is a little different. It's a matter of having the tools to live whatever kind of life you choose. The training is what gives you those tools. Whatever choices you make after are yours.”

  Laedron shook his head in contempt. “And what if Laren's happier path was with Marac? What if she comes back all those years later, and he's married to another?”

  “If Marac loves Laren as much as he says, he can wait for her. I'm not pushing this upon her. I know you think I am, but I'm not.”

  “Given the fact their relationship was broken up as a result of these conversations, I'd say you and Mr. Reven had a part to play in the decision. Had it been left to go without interference, they might have been married before the end of the fall.”

  Filadrena’s shoulders drooped, and her head tilted downward. “You must think me a bad person.”

  “No, Ma. I don't think you're a bad person. I'm worried about Marac.”

  “He's as grown as you, son. He has his choices, and you have yours. Just as I can't force Laren or Marac to do one thing over another, you can't, either. We gave them our minds as concerned parents, and they made the decision.”

  “Well, they'll never see each other again, not after she leaves town.”

  “Not so fast, Laedron. Did I never tell you the story of how I met your father?”

  He thought for a few moments. “No, I don't think it ever came up.”

  “A fine lad he was, for a Heraldan.” She laughed. “I see a lot of him in you, in your handsome looks and tall stature. He shows in you when you're stubborn and hotheaded, too, that's for sure. We knew each other since we were children, you know?”

  “In Westmarch?” he asked, scrubbing the last of the plates as if they were the cause of his frustrations.

  “Aye, indeed. I was with Ismerelda when I met him, a girl of only fifteen. Mages were few and far between in those days, and we trained younger. Your father was the page of the bannor.”

  “I didn't know mages mixed with common people while in training. I thought we'd be under lock and key.”

  “Different days, my boy. The rules have changed since then, and that's not to say they won't be broken, either. He was dashing, slightly older than me, but brash and undeterred. He would always bring me fresh fruits, which he barely had the money to afford.”

  Following her to the lounge, he sat next to her on the plush velveteen sofa, and she recounted the days of her youth with a hopeful look in her eyes Laedron didn't often see. “Our fledgling romance went on for years until I was graduated. I was assigned to Morcaine to assist with matters there, but we always promised one another that we'd meet again.”

  She rarely spoke of the past, and Ma’s words had ignited a spark of curiosity within him. “What happened then?”

  “I went to Morcaine, of course. I couldn't disregard my duties, and I stayed in that city for nearly five years before I was released to go on my own. The pay was quite impressive, so I took the time to travel to distant lands. There are some astounding and extraordinary things beyond these borders, I can tell you that!”

  He sipped his tea as he listened, stirring it with the sprig of Meriwether. “When did you return?”

  “I spent a few years abroad, and after I realized that I'd gotten myself into plenty of mischief elsewhere, I came home to Westmarch. That's when I found that your father had become the bannor of this bannorn. Being impressed, I went for a visit.”

  She scratched her chin. “I figured he'd married by then, an impressive bannor with family and wealth. Well, the first thing he said to me was, 'I've been waiting for you.' He recognized me as soon as I walked into his office.”

  “He courted me, and we were wed not long after that. Then, you came along. You shared a birthday with Prince Zorin that year. Oh, your father was so happy he finally had a child to call his own.” She displayed a satisfied grin. “A couple of years later, Laren arrived.”

  His eyes widened with surprise. “You never told me the prince and I share the same birthday.”

  “I'm surprised you never matched it up yourself, to be honest.”

  “Well, they celebrate for a week every time, so I never knew exactly which day it really was. Go on, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

  “The years went by, and we were fortunate to be so happy. Then he stopped feeling as young and vigorous.” She paused as if the very thought drove a spike through her heart. “He kept good spirits, but the disease claimed him over a year's time. He received the funeral of a knight of the realm by order of the king, and people I had never heard of before traveled here and paid their respects.

  “Now, we find ourselves parting ways, just under different circumstances. It feels like a little part of me is dying all over again,” she said.

  “Don't be sad, Ma. I'll come back to see you again. I swear it.”

  She patted his hand. “I know you will, Lae.”

  Hearing a cooing noise from the windowsill, he turned. A white pigeon perched there with a tiny wooden scroll case attached to its leg. His mother stood and approached the bird, then removed the tiny note from the case and fetched a seeing glass.

  As he joined her near the window, she read the note aloud. “House Telpist, you must make all haste to send the boy to me. The winds of change have been felt in the east, and I need him to join with me with no delay. I dare not speak more of the matter in my message in case it is intercepted. May the Creator guide him safely here. Ismerelda.”

  Glancing between the note and his mother, he asked, “What do we do, Ma?”

  “We must send you along immediately. It is as Ismerelda commands, and we must obey. The miller has a shipment of wheat going to Westmarch the morning after tomorrow, and you'll be on it.”

  With little more than a nod to his mother, he ascended the stairs to his room. Washing his face and removing his soiled clothes, he eyed his bed and then the dresser. He'd called the place home for sixteen years, and he hadn't realized the weight of his feelings about leaving until that moment.

  He felt as though much of his last summer had been wasted, and some anger still resounded for his mother's actions. Had he known he would be going to Ismerelda in Westmarch all along, he might have concerned himself with enjoying Reven’s Landing until his departure.

  “Still one day left,” he thought. “Better make it count.”

  Lowering himself onto the bed, he pulled the sheet across his body. Thicker blankets dressed the bed, but he rarely used them; even at night, warm breezes found their way into the house most of the year.

  He took a deep breath before he prayed and thanked the Creator for his gift of spellcraft. He knew full well that most other boys his age weren't able to bend existence to their will. As he drifted off to sleep
, he glanced at the wand on his dresser, its intricate carvings drawing his mind into fantasies of brandishing it in action in places far away from his home.

  Chapter Three

  Two Mages by the Brook