The Warrior and the Wandering Wizard (The Way of the Wandering Wizard Series Book 2)

by Michael Novak

  “Why, I would be honored. Name the place and the time.”

  “In six days at the Valley of Endorr. I believe I can procure an enchanted suit of armor for you and I was told you might be able to capture your own war steed.”

  The Paladin ponders a moment. “I believe I may be able to, but it has been so long. I hope the way is still open for me.” Mikal sighs with relief. “Forgive me, Mikal, but you look exhausted.”

  “That is an understatement. It has been a long and trying night.”

  “Let us go then and find a bed for you to rest. Bring your friend along”

  The three, with the black cat leading them, leave the sleeping barracks and enter the main streets. Derrick points ahead. “The library is this way. There are beds for us all.” He pulls Mikal closer and whispers, “Is that really Sir Rusel Ironwood from the Wizard Wars?”

  “There is no doubt.”

  “Oh, my.”

  Just before dawn they enter the double doors of the library. They find the boy and the snoring dwarf fast asleep. Aden Ferrum is nowhere to be found. Derrick nudges the young servant awake. “Tell me, boy, where is Aden Ferrum?”

  The lad rubs his eyes and looks around. “I do not know, sir. He was here when I fell asleep.”

  “No matter. Bring us something to drink and some water to cleanse ourselves.”

  The one-armed dwarf continues to bellow away. The boy returns, carrying two pitchers on a tray. Majam turns and stares intently at the front door. Aden appears, and it is evident by the look on his face that he is surprised to see everyone gathered there. He straightens and strides into the room.

  Mikal stands. “Sir Rusel, allow me to introduce my current company. This is young Robert, Derrick’s servant. The snoring one over there is Kairn, the dwarf. And this gentleman, returning from where I do not know, is Aden Ferrum, a Red Wizard. Aden, this is Rusel Ironwood, a Paladin.”

  “A Paladin, you say? Wherever did you unearth him? It looks like he has seen one battle too many.”

  Sir Rusel stares hard and long at Aden. “Red Wizard, I say to you, in my time even the Red Mages I fought beside left fiery death and destruction in their wake.” Sir Rusel raises his right hand and points to the Red Wizard. “Do not play us false, or I will hunt you down and exact vengeance in this life or the next.”

  Aden lifts his fire staff.

  Chapter 30

  Sebastian asks, “Mairin, have you been to the Valley of Endorr? I can tell by that look that you have not. Neither have I, but I have heard rumors. Supposedly, the witches are talented healers and they are quite noted for herb and potion lore. Some say a few can even foretell the future. I do not know about that. They are all supposedly beautiful, and it is said that they can bewitch any man and make him their servant. What do you believe, Mairin?”

  “I have heard the same, but let me ask you this; do you not fear the witches if they can make you their servant?”

  Sebastian laughs. “I am no man's servant, but a beautiful witch, that is another matter. Let me think upon it.”

  Talon interrupts, “If I remember the map I saw in the Stonegrove library, we should be getting close to the valley wall. The way down is said to be slow and difficult.”

  Late in the afternoon, the three, along with the cat Tamarix, stand on the edge of a cliff. A switchback trail leads to the valley floor. The half-elf surveys the descent. “The question is, we can either camp here for the night and take the trail down at first light, or start down now and camp at the end of the path.”

  Sebastian says nothing, but looks to Mairin. The young lass is anxious to see her father. “I would prefer to start immediately and camp later.”

  With the cat taking point, they start their descent. The way is difficult and the light is fading but eventually they arrive at the valley floor. Talon finds a secluded spot just off the path.

  “Search, Tamarix.” Immediately the cat is gone.

  Sebastian inquires, “That is an impressive cat. For what did you tell him to search?”

  The half-elf shrugs. “He will look for any danger in the immediate area. It will not take long. We should gather firewood for the night.”

  They soon share an evening meal. Talon looks to the moon that is rising over the horizon. “We should leave at first light, so I recommend we get our sleep now. Tamarix will take the first watch and I will take the next.”

  Sebastian speaks. “I shall gladly take the third. Just please wake me when it is my time.” Talon hesitates, but nods reluctantly.

  ***

  With the first rays of the new day, Talon awakens and prepares a small breakfast of cheese, dates, and water. The white-haired man joins the group and looks surprisingly refreshed for standing the third watch.

  Mairin stands. “Well, let's be off.”

  Talon extinguishes the fire. “We should follow this path and soon we will be on open ground. The witches’ encampment should be but a few hours travel.”

  The way is uneventful. Sebastian does point out the seemingly inordinate number of birds in the air, most with dark feathers. Talon does spy some with red and yellow plumage.

  Mr. Wolfram makes the observation, “Usually when I see this many birds, I am traveling through a forest of trees. We are surrounded by open plains and rocks. I find that curious.”

  A few hours pass, when something catches Talon’s eye. He moves to the front of the little procession and stops and looks intently across the valley floor. The white-haired man holds his pointed nose high. “I do believe I smell something burning.”

  Tamarix sniffs the air as well. Mairin asks, “Talon, what do you see?”

  “I believe it is the witches’ encampment, but I cannot be sure. It looks like a great fire has taken place, but I see movement. Wait. There are men mounting horses. They are galloping this way.”

  “What should we do?” questions Mairin. Talon reveals his bow and readies an arrow.

  Sebastian Wolfram raises his arm. “Elf, lower that bow. There are too many and they are approaching fast. If you do not stop them all, they will hunt us down. Look around. Open ground surrounds us and we are short on supplies. I can talk our way out of this. Trust me.”

  Chapter 31

  They feel the vibrations of the hooves as the riders close in. The white-haired man turns his back to the approaching marauders. “Mairin, give me your ring and anything else of value. I shall attempt to hide them.”

  “I really do not have anything of value.”

  Sebastian repeats, “Give me that ring or it will surely be lost.”

  Both Talon and Mairin witness Sebastian uncover a medallion that hangs from his neck. His eyes grow wide when Talon offers the cat pendant he had taken from the hermit’s murderer. Wolfram takes the ring, the pendant, and his medallion and hides them in a hidden compartment in his left boot.

  Talon bends down. “Tamarix, hide.”

  The cat is out of sight immediately. The white-haired man straightaway turns, stands, holds up his arms, and addresses the rapidly approaching riders. “Please, hold! We are mere pilgrims en route to see the Witches of Endorr.”

  The five unkempt riders brandish weapons and surround the three. Talon can tell that the horses have been pushed to their limit and are not well cared for. A short, stocky, smelly man spurs his horse and moves closer. Talon notices flies buzzing around him. He lowers a short spear in front of Sebastian's pointy nose.

  In a calm voice the white-haired man introduces himself. “I am Sebastian Wolfram, this is Talon, and this is Mairin, a Witch of Endorr,” he lies.

  The short, dirty man stares at the girl. “A witch, you say?”

  Sebastian nods. “Yes, she was on a leave of absence. We are helping her return.” He points in the distance. “What has happened to the encampment? You must be powerful warriors to overcome the Witches of Endorr.” He pats his robe. “By the way, I am sorry but we have nothing of value.”

  The malodorous marauder looks to Talon. “Boy, handover that bow and any othe
r weapons you have. That goes for the rest of you.” He spits.

  The half-elf hesitates. Sebastian Wolfram offers his sword and hunting knife. He addresses the half-elf. “Talon, please do as he says and things will be all right.”

  Reluctantly, Talon gives up his enchanted bow and short sword. The pudgy, fly-ridden rider is satisfied. “Now, back to our camp.”

  The walk to the encampment is filled with jibes and laughter directed at Talon and Mairin. Once the captors determine that Talon is a “half-breed”, he becomes their primary target. The three remain silent. Shortly they enter the burnt campsite. Sebastian can tell that this was an impressive array at one time, but wonders what occurred here. He knows whatever has happened is beyond the capabilities of these marauders.

  The captives are brought to a burly man with wild, blonde hair. “So, what do we have here, eh? Three little lost lambs, to be sheared or slaughtered?” The man laughs at his own joke. The stocky, smelly man lays the weapons before his leader. The straw-haired man inspects them haphazardly.

  “So, fine weapons for sheep slaughtering, no?” guffaws the stocky man.

  “We found them on the open plains. They claim they were coming to see the Witches of Endorr. That white-haired... sheep says the girl here is one of the witches.”

  “So, she claims she’s a witch? She does not look like a beautiful, young witch.”

  Sebastian steps forward. “Sir, may I have the honor to know your name?”

  The beefy man with the wild hair studies Sebastian. “So, you want my name? Why not? My name is Brent Plumbum.”

  Sebastian bows. “Master Plumbum, may I introduce my company? The young half-elf is a talented archer. His name is Talon. You can see how appropriate his name is. The beautiful young lass is named Mairin and she is in her traveling guise. And I am Sebastian Wolfram, at your service.” He bows from the waist.

  The wild-haired man is impressed with Sebastian. “So, you still claim she's a witch?”

  The marauder leader’s gaze rests on the young female. “So, tell me, girl, are you really a Witch of Endorr?”

  Mairin lowers her eyes. “Yes, I am.”

  “So, how old are you?”

  Sebastian starts to cough and catches the young female’s eyes. He interrupts, “She's older than she looks.”

  The leader steps forward. “So, you like to talk? Well, stop wagging your tongue or I’ll cut it out, you white-haired lamb.”

  Some of the underlings laugh lustily. “So, girl, what is your age?”

  Mairin looks directly at the bandit leader. “I am twenty and eight years.”

  A low murmur spreads throughout the marauders’ camp. “So, twenty-eight, eh? You will get a chance to prove that you are one of the Witches.”

  Brent asks the smelly man, “So, they did not have any coin on them?”

  The short, stocky one attempts to swat away the flies from his face and lowers his chin. “Well, they gave us their weapons.”

  The bandit leader’s backhand slaps his underling in the face, leaving a welt.

  Master Plumbum points to one of the younger plunderers. “So, I suggest you search them now.”

  A man with long, greasy hair strides up to Talon. The half-elf holds open his cloak. The young bandit removes a knife and a small bag of coins. He tosses the bag to his superior. He continues to inspect Talon, checking for hidden pockets and offhandedly probes both boots. He starts the same procedure with Sebastian, finding the fine throwing knife, but, unexpectedly, no coins. As he searches the right boot, a long, unnerving, distant howl fills the camp.

  The short, stocky man declares, “I told you, Plumbum, there are wolves out there!”

  Brent again backhands the smelly man, sending flies everywhere. “So, you’re afraid of wolves? Wolves do not concern me. And call me Master Plumbum. I kind of like that. Hey, Greasy, check the girl.”

  Mairin removes her cloak and hands it to the young bandit. “Nothing to be found here, sir.”

  The girl gives him her rucksack which he opens and inspects. “Some food and clothes is all.” He feels something. “Wait… something is wrapped up.” He unfolds the cloth. “Look at this! It’s a black-bladed knife.”

  “So, something of value after all, eh? Here, give me that,” Brent commands.

  He inspects the blade closely and turns it over in his hand. “Perfectly balanced. This blade is for killing, not healing. So, how did you come by it?”

  Talon interrupts, “A large, hairy man gave it to her. It was taken from someone's back.”

  Brent chuckles. “I bet it was. So, the question is how did it get there?”

  His question is met with silence.

  He addresses Wolfram. “I like you but I don't trust you.” He looks to the stinking one. “So, bind the hands behind the elf and the white-haired sheep,” he commands, and to Mairin he says, “We have an injured man in the back. So, girl, if you want to live, you do your best to heal him. You two show them where he is and keep an eye on them.”

  On the way, they find themselves stepping on small bones that make irritating, crunching sounds beneath their feet.

  “Those are rat bones,” one of the captors informs them. “There are pockets of skeletons spewed about everywhere.”

  Mairin, Wolfram, and Talon are lead to a small canopy that looks like it was made from shreds of a larger tent. The injured man lies inside. He has suffered many lesions and a severe, gaping stomach wound. Mairin kneels and closely inspects the life-threatening injury. Both Talon and Sebastian kneel next to the young girl.

  The white-haired man whispers, “Cleanse the wounds and look like you know what you're doing.” Sebastian stands and speaks to one of the guards. “She needs clean water and cloth. Fetch some.” Sebastian looks to the other. “This man has a fever and may have a disease of some sort.” The guard pales and takes a few steps backward. Sebastian returns to his knees and is surprised to find Mairin moving her hands over the more serious cuts and healing them with spells.

  “This is good,” Sebastian says. “But what of the stomach?”

  “I have a vial in my pack that should readily cure him.”

  Sebastian looks up. “You there, retrieve her rucksack.”

  “I have been ordered not to leave you,” the guard protests.

  “Yes, she, however, is supposed to cure this man and she needs her potions. If he dies, Master Plumbum will blame you.”

  The unhappy, suddenly concerned guard turns and begrudgingly exits the tent.

  Sebastian shakes his head. “My, but these men are not very bright. Plumbum is remarkably dense, if you know what I mean. I also believe they are but scavengers and have not been here long. They are, however, dangerous.”

  The first guard returns with water and clean cloth and Mairin cleanses the many lacerations. The second guard appears and gives the young girl her rucksack. She rummages through it and produces a vial of green fluid.

  Talon explains to a quizzical Wolfram, “That is a powerful healing brew.”

  Sebastian nods. “Give him only a bit.”

  Mairin looks at him puzzled. “Am I not supposed to cure him?”

  “Yes, certainly…only not too quickly. As long as the man is healing but not cured, they will let us live…or you at least.”

  The teenager applies a small amount of the thick, green liquid to the gaping stomach wound. She then feeds a small amount to the critically injured man.

  The short, smelly, stocky man and another bandit enter the tent and approach the three captives. Mairin informs the stinking one, “I have done all that I can do for now. We can only wait and see.”

  “He’d better live, witch.” He roughly grasps Mairin’s upper arm and rudely pulls her to her feet. “All of you…come with me now.”

  They are ushered to a burned-out, tattered tent. Inside, two wooden stakes have been driven into the ground. Talon and Sebastian are tied to the stakes, with their hands behind them.

  The fly-infested scavenger looks to the gi
rl. “We will leave you unbound for now. But if you run off or try to release your friends, we will split all your throats.” The smelly one laughs sardonically.

  Wolfram asks, “Excuse me, sir, but do you have any notion of what befell this encampment?”

  “Huh?”

  “What happened here?”

  One of the scavengers looks about. “We don’t know. It was like this when we found it this morning.”

  The short, smelly bandit slaps his collaborator hard across the face. “Shut up, fool. Tell them nothing.”

  Not far from where the three are held, a commotion of whistling and cheering erupts. The sound soon subsides and the three captives are left wondering what it was all about. Sometime later, they hear the crunching of rat bones.

  The young bandit with the greasy hair strolls in. “I'm here to relieve you. Our friends found a half full keg of wine. I had my two cups already and you better hurry if you don’t want to miss out. They'll drink the rest without you.”

  The guards waste no time in leaving. The greasy one produces a whetstone and begins sharpening his short sword. Sebastian coughs lightly in order to gain the brigand’s attention.

  “However are you feeling, good sir?” Sebastian inquires innocently.

  “Why would you ask me that?” responds the greasy-haired guard.

  “I am sorry. I just want to see how you are feeling. You are the one that took the black-bladed knife from a Witch of Endorr, are you not?”

  “Again, why do you ask that?” He is beginning to become irritated.

  “Well, that blade is cursed. It was given to the girl properly but you took it from her improperly. Now I know you were ordered to do so by Master Plumbum, so there is probably a curse upon him as well.”

  “I don't believe you,” snaps the bandit.

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter in the least. The curse will still work without your belief. I am sure of it.”