Wizard's Blood [Part One]

by Bob Blink

  Many of the boats were man powered, with a crew of sailors that would use long poles to push the boat on its way. While this worked wonders going down river, the return against the current was slow and difficult. Because of this, much of the shipment from Jupura to Carta was still done by land, a difficult road and dangerous, but almost as fast.

  A significant number of the boats were actually barges, built cheaply and expected only to make the single trip down river. Once they reached the ocean, the goods were off-loaded and the boats disassembled for their lumber.

  They spent considerable time wandering around the docks, looking at the cargoes and talking to some of the sailors. They went over to where the steamboat was docked, but its cargo was already loaded. It was taking on passengers and preparing to leave, dashing any hopes Jolan had of getting on-board for a look. Asari indicated they would probably have a chance later. If they were able to get a sponsor and actually set off for Angon, the most likely route would be to take the boat to the ocean, then a ship across to Cobalo. Jolan promised himself some time with the maps tonight.

  They worked their way through a couple more shopping areas, finding nothing unique, and after asking a lot of people Asari concluded the only place that would have a library that would help Jolan in any way was the one at the university. Since it wasn’t too far from where they were staying, they made that the final destination of the day after a pass by Asari’s uncle’s place.

  “The maid offered to let me stay there,” Asari explained as their carriage moved slowly past the residence. “But she felt she couldn’t allow someone my uncle didn’t know to stay without first checking with him, which is of course, impossible. She is correct. My uncle would discharge her immediately if she took such a liberty. The fact she has served him for more than twenty years would not temper his anger.”

  Jolan nodded his understanding. “It’s okay,” he replied. He wouldn’t want to stay there anyway. Being in someone else’s place is constricting somehow. It would limit their freedom in a number of ways.

  The university was far smaller than he envisioned, with grounds that covered an area no larger than his high school back on Earth. The buildings were largely two story stone, most looking old and weathered. A few were made from wood, and looked like they had been hurriedly erected to meet a growing need for space. Students, all men from what he could see, hurried between buildings clutching handfuls of scrolls and other classroom materials, all wearing a standard uniform with surprisingly muted colors.

  As they searched for the library, they passed the medical center. According to Asari it was the best facility available in Carta, and any severe cases beyond the scope of the local medical centers would come here. From the bloody bandages, and the looks on the faces of the few patients he could see, Jolan decided he was going to exert every precaution to not need medical care here.

  Chapter 27

  After almost a week the novelty of sight-seeing around the city began to wear off for the two companions. Asari decided to go and see if he could locate some of his friends, while Jolan said he would be headed over to the university to see what he could find. He was prepared to be disappointed. He had been underwhelmed, to use a friend’s favorite term, by what he had seen, and as a non-student there was every chance he would be restricted from using the library at all.

  Since he wasn’t carrying much money, all the extra funds having been secured in the Mage’s Box, and since he was going only a short way and onto University property, he decided that he wouldn’t bring the Colt along today. Maybe he was making excuses, but for some reason it just didn’t feel right to bring the pistol, and while it probably wouldn’t be recognized as a weapon if it was discovered, there was a small chance it could jeopardize his chances. Instead he reached over and grabbed the staff resting against the wall and headed downstairs. He’d been wanting to bring it along for several days anyway.

  Finished with a satisfying breakfast in the inn’s common room, he set out on foot. It was a nice day, although the weather was clearly starting to cool. After the refreshing walk, he reached the building he sought and headed inside. He was passed through several of the “librarians”, before he was finally pointed to the Master of Scrolls, who was ultimately in charge of things here and who was the only person available who could grant him access.

  “You’re a mage,” the Master of Scrolls said after they had talked only a few minutes.

  “Excuse me?” Jolan said surprised. He couldn’t understand what he had said to give the man such an idea.

  “Your type is always seeking the same thing. Always wanting to dig into the histories and see if they can find something that others have missed; some clue that might direct them towards additional uses of the power.”

  “I assure you I’m not. . . .”

  “It’s perfectly alright,” the man said. “I am not one of those who disapproves of the power. Too much good can come from it. It is those who misuse it that we must fear. Sadly however, I fear you will not find much of use to you here. Our resources are limited and not aimed in that direction.”

  “I would still appreciate being able to look.”

  “Of course.” The Master of Scrolls scribbled something on a sheet of paper. Then he grabbed another sheet and wrote something on it as well.

  “Show this to the young man over there,” he said pointing. “He will direct you based on your question. The Master of Scrolls then handed him a second piece of paper. This is the address of someone you might want to talk with. True mages are not that common in Carta, and he is very old and very knowledgeable. He might be able to help you.”

  Jolan looked at the piece of paper prepared to ask directions, but surprisingly he recognized the location. His brief wanderings the past few days had familiarized him with a number of streets, and this was less than a half mile away.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  The Master of Scrolls nodded and wandered off to take care of someone else.

  The books were from various times, and appeared to frequently contradict each other. They were mostly handwritten volumes created by the authors rather than formal scribes, and while the writings documented the history of the dark ages following the Mage Wars, they failed to answer many of Jolan’s questions. Clearly, the perceptions of magic and the users of the power had changed significantly with the war and the incredible destruction it had caused. The accounts were quite specific in some areas, and he learned the Settled Lands had held a far larger population in those times. The level of technology had been more advanced as well, and the Settled Lands had not yet returned to a level equivalent to that which had existed before the war. The borders of the countries had somehow managed to survive events more or less unchanged by some quirk of fate, but many of the great cities had been seriously damaged or destroyed. Many no longer existed. One of the accounts detailed how the capital of Seret, once located on the shores of the great sea, had been relocated far inland to its present location at Carta. Clearly, one common thread in the histories was that the attempt by Ale’ald to conquer the Settled Lands had been the trigger for the Mage Wars, and that multiple attempts had occurred over the centuries, all failing to deliver the goals of that hated kingdom.

  Jolan couldn’t help wondering how much the accounts were colored by the lands of origin of the authors, and how much was in fact an accurate description of events. He tried to find references to cuprum without success, and out of idle curiosity he tried to find anything on the dragons as well. That also failed to turn up anything other than a storybook with a couple of wild drawings.

  Despite the limitations of the archives, a few hours every other day would be helpful in expanding Jolan’s knowledge of the land and its history, but the time spent here clearly wasn’t going to be useful in answering any of his questions on magic and use of the power. His eyes were tired from sorting through some of the scrolls and handwritten notes that passed for books, all far harder to use than normal research materials at home
, and light years behind the electronic searches he’d become accustomed to.

  He’d decided to call it a day. He wanted to see if he could locate the mage and whether there would be anything he could learn from him, and had left the university grounds. Somewhere along the way, his mind deep in thought, he had missed a turn, and now he found himself turned around, and well away from the main area he’d been used to walking in. The streets here were a bit more seedy, and he suspected he had wandered into one of the rougher areas. His concern was verified moments later when he heard a coarse voice shout, “There he is.”

  He could see the tough looking youth that had shouted, and saw he was accompanied by a number of other similarly dressed individuals of about the same age. He turned to head the other direction, thinking if he could only make it back to the corner and backtrack a couple of blocks he would be back where the Guard had frequent patrols and these toughs would probably disappear. Then he saw that another group was coming down the street from the other direction, and was clearly focused on him. It seemed he should have brought the Colt along after all.

  There was no way to run. The two gangs were converging and had closed off all possible means of escape. Suddenly someone swung a heavy broad sword toward him. That seemed a bit extreme for a simple mugging, but obviously his life held little meaning for them. The fast moving sword impacted the wooden staff that he had been holding loosely in his left hand and bounced back, recoiling in the opposite direction at the same speed with which it had impacted his staff. The staff remained inert, hanging loosely in his hand, seemingly taking no notice of the sword that had just struck it. No one was more surprised than Jolan. Okay, now here was magic. Jolan didn’t need to draw vector diagrams or run the numbers to know momentum wasn’t being conserved here; at least not in anyway he understood.

  The burly giant who had swung the sword was completely unbalanced by the unexpected reversal in direction of his weapon, and Jolan took advantage of the fact by quickly raising the staff and smacking the attacker behind the ear. He was pleased to see the man crumple senselessly to the ground. One down, a whole bloody bunch to go.

  “Tur’old’ain’e’lorelm,” Jolan said loudly. Now where the hell did that come from he thought? Fingers of lightning like those he tried to make some sense of several times on his own erupted from the head of the staff, except these were fierce and so bright they hurt the eyes. Each of the toughs in the two gangs was targeted, their weapons struck by one of the fingers of light. The lightning from the staff faded although the blades of the street toughs continued to glow brightly. They dropped them in alarm, but before the weapons could clatter to the street they disappeared in flashes of bluish-white light.

  Most of the fools were smart enough to run, but there is always one who doesn’t get it. A heavily scarred and muscled brute in the middle of the right hand group decided to finish the job by hand. As he approached, massive paws outstretched, Jolan nimbly shifted to one side, and with a couple of quick blows with the staff, rendered the gorilla senseless. Jolan knew the staff was helping him somehow. He wasn’t a skilled fighter, and had never used a staff as a weapon before. There was no way he could have finished the man off so effortlessly on his own.

  He was surprised to note that the wood of the old staff was unmarked by the heavy blow it had just received from the sword. Jolan considered the staff in his hand in a new light. He was quite certain now he hadn’t stumbled upon the ancient weapon by accident. Something else seemed to be at work here. Seeing how well the staff had fared against a small gang of normal humans, Jolan had to wonder how effective it would be against a wizard or two who knew a bit about such things.

  Shaken by the attack, Jolan decided he would put off his visit to the wizard, and started to make his way back toward the Peaceful Pony, keeping an eye out for any repeat of the assault. After a while he starting seeing landmarks he recognized, and once he had his bearings he realized he was very close to the address he had been given for the mage.

  “Why not,” he said to himself. Returning to familiar territory had restored his confidence, and the power of the staff had made him anxious to find someone who knew more about magic. Who knew how long it might be before he was able to talk to the mages in Cobalo?

  He wasn’t sure what he had expected when he was given the address, but the small structure with the proper number and name was clearly not a store, and yet didn’t look like a residence either. If anything it reminded Jolan of a doctor’s office, with a small room out front and what might be more private conference rooms in the back. No one was in evidence when he entered, but within a few minutes he heard footsteps headed his way.

  The Master of Scrolls had said a very old mage. That brought a picture of a small bent man with a long gray beard to Jolan’s mind. The man that appeared from the back of the building did not resemble the stereotype at all. He was relatively tall, but thin, with a small band of gray fuzz around his head, being otherwise bald. He was clean shaven, and while his skin was wrinkled, it didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary. It was the eyes that gave it away. One look into the light blue eyes of the man told Jolan this person was OLD.

  “You wish to see me,” he said softly. “I am Altz.”

  “The Master of Scrolls suggested I come to see you. I have a number of questions that he thought you might be able to provide some insight on.”

  “I see,” he said, his observant eyes taking in the staff and the ring on Jolan’s finger. “You are a mage.”

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration actually,” Jolan explained.

  “No, no. You are clearly a mage. You have some very remarkable artifacts of magic with you as well.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jolan said, a bit surprised Altz could have observed so much this easily.

  “The staff is clearly very old, and has great power. I can sense it.”

  “I can’t sense anything of the sort,” Jolan replied honestly.

  “Well, it becomes easier with experience, or perhaps with age,” the old mage said with a slight smile. “You wear one of the eighty rings as well. I have only seen a few others in all my life, and those were of different color stones, mostly the red. I can see the glow, so you are clearly a mage and the ring has accepted you.”

  “I was told it might have power but that I would need to learn much before I could use it.” Jolan said.

  Altz shook his head. “It works for you even now, otherwise there would be no sign of life. I don’t know the power of the blue, but you have the ability to command it now.”

  “That’s some of what I would like to talk with you about. I have little knowledge of the power, and how to use it properly.”

  “Where are you from that you can have the ability, but no knowledge of how?”

  “That’s a bit of a story, and one that is difficult to explain,” Jolan replied, not wanting to get into tales of the transfer from Earth with someone he’d just met. “Let’s just say I suddenly found myself here, with a small assortment of abilities, and a serious set of problems to resolve.”

  Thinking of all the stories he had read over the years while trying to understand his talent as a boy, he suddenly spoke without thinking, “Perhaps you have heard of a prophecy about a person like me?” It always seemed there was at least one prophecy at work in all the stories.

  “A prophecy? I know of no such prophecy. If I did, why would I pay attention to such dribble? Prophecies are always vaguely worded predictions that are supposed to foretell the future. How can anyone believe the future can be known? There are just too many things that can alter what hasn’t happened yet. Sheer foolishness. You want to make a prophecy? You have two choices. Either plan on being wrong, or spout some nonsense so vague that any old mage farting on the night of the full moon would be enough to satisfy it. What nonsense!”

  Somehow the old mage’s ramblings made him feel better. He felt much the same, but here at least was someone who might actually have a handle on what worked and what didn’t.


  “That’s reassuring,” he said after a bit.

  “So what can I help you understand?”

  “Okay. An example. You seem to recognize the staff. I only recently acquired it, yet when I was attacked a while ago, I uttered a phrase I didn’t recognize and the staff struck at my attackers with the power in a way I have never seen before. How is that possible?”

  “Have you studied the old languages before?”

  “I’m happier than you could ever realize that I even understand the one we are speaking. Truthfully, I have never even heard of the old languages let alone tried to study them.”

  “I see. It figures. One of the untrained ones and he stumbles across one of the precious lost staffs. Okay, here’s how it works. You not only have one of a very few rare rings, you have one of the true-staffs, and only a handful of those were ever created. The staff has bonded with you it appears; don’t ask me why or how. Woe be it to anyone who tries to take the staff from you. If you are conscious, it will understand who your enemies are, and will aid you in their defeat. As you grow in ability, you will be able to assume more control, and direct the response of the staff.”

  “That’s a bit scary. Can the staff protect me against other mages or wizards?”

  “That would depend very much on the other mage or wizard and the skill level they possess as well as your own level. Neither you nor the staff alone could overcome a level five or higher wizard, but if you advance high enough, the combined abilities could well be able to do so.”

  “I know nothing of the ‘levels’ you just mentioned. How do I know what level I am?”

  “Hmmm. So what abilities do you have?”

  Jolan summarized the things he had learned to do, as well as things that didn’t seem to work. He also explained areas where he was concerned about accessing the power. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he didn’t mention the Mage’s Box.