by Mike Shelton
He watched the people walking home in the warm summer air as vendors closed up their neatly organized shops for the day. Then Daymian felt a strange breeze blow by him and thought he heard a noise in the room. He turned and ran his eyes over the room. It all seemed in order. He took in the large tapestry on the wall next to the door, the stone fireplace he had not used since late spring, the shelves of books outlining the history of the law of Alaris, and then his desk. The feeling that something in the room had changed lingered in the back of his exhausted mind.
So Daymian closed the window and leaned back over his desk to straighten his papers. Then a letter caught his eye. He hadn’t noticed it before. He opened it with a quick tear and cringed. Wizard Kanzar Centari had invited—no, that was too nice a word for it—commanded Daymian to the Citadel for a meeting.
Daymian threw down the letter in disgust. He needed to talk to Onius first thing in the morning. Onius understood Kanzar more than anyone. Daymian knew that others plotted behind his back because some of the people wanted a king, and he would bet Kanzar was involved. The man plainly loved power.
As Chief Judge, Daymian needed to visit one more place this evening before retiring to his living quarters. He needed to see Bakari in the library. There were rumors of the magical barrier weakening in places, especially along its eastern edge—the boundary they shared with Elvyn. The wizards, including Onius, had remained closed-lipped about it. If anyone knew the information, it would be Bakari. In the past year, Daymian had learned many times to rely on the young scholar wizard’s memory and wealth of knowledge.
Daymian reached over to pick up the cup sitting on the edge of the table. As he brought it to his lips he paused for a moment and frowned. The cup, still chilled, dripped with condensation. He didn’t remember having asked for anything to drink recently. He reasoned that it must be from the steward anticipating his needs and bringing it in before leaving for the evening.
He took a swallow from the silver cup and brought it with him as he headed down the darkening corridors of his castle. This thought startled him. He had never thought of it as his castle before. That was dangerous. He knew he served here for only a five-year term. And he was only a servant of the people, a judge. There was a big difference between that and a king. From what he understood of history, kings only brought problems. Kings brought wars. And the last king of Alaris, before the barrier went up, was a powerful wizard. The main purpose of creating the barrier was to protect Alaris from greedy kings in nearby kingdoms.
Two guards fell in behind him as he walked to the library. Their footsteps were quiet on the long run of blue woven carpet running down the middle of the halls in this part of the castle. As he rounded the last corner, Daymian bumped into someone, and a portion of his drink splashed out, dampening the carpet. The other man stumbled but put a hand to the wall to keep from falling down
“Watch where you’re going,” the other man said before looking up. The guards tensed and moved to intervene.
“Roland?” Daymian reached a helpful hand over to his apprentice counselor.
Roland’s face turned red, and he apologized. The guards relaxed. They recognized Roland and nodded their heads to him.
“What are you doing in this wing?” Daymian asked.
“Oh, just hanging around, waiting to be knocked over,” Roland said with a wink, trying to use laughter to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation.
Daymian didn’t laugh. Roland needed to be more serious about his duties if he planned to be a counselor to one of the judges in the land. Taking a long drink from his cup, Daymian motioned for Roland to follow him to the library.
“That’s where I was going,” Roland mumbled.
As Daymian reached for the handle of the door, a wave of dizziness washed over him and he swooned to the side. One of the guards reached over and tried to steady him. He began to choke and felt his eyes starting to roll back in his head. Then his fingers relaxed around the cup, and it fell to the floor, bouncing twice, spilling its remaining cool liquid on the carpet in front of the library’s door.
CHAPTER THREE
“Bak!” Roland yelled, pushing the door of the library open with a bang.
The young, dark-skinned youth with short, dark hair and homemade glasses came running to the door. He seemed out of breath and almost tripped on his long scholar’s robes.
“Roland?”
“The Chief Judge has collapsed.”
Bakari stood for a moment, staring at the fallen judge. Then he took off his glasses and pinched his nose.
“Bak, stop standing there and help us!” Roland shouted. “Pull your head out of your books. We need a place to lay him down.”
“Of course. Of course. On the couch here.” He motioned them to a well-built brown couch in the sitting area of the castle library. Books lined a multitude of shelves around them.
Since Bakari was already a level one wizard, protocol dictated he take the lead—even though Roland was more powerful. So Roland watched as Bakari ran his hand over the Chief Judge’s body.
“He’s been poisoned.”
Brilliant deduction was what Roland wanted to say. He could tell that. Sometimes Bakari’s head was so far into his books it took him a while to return to the real world.
“The cup was in his hand.”
One of the guards started to fetch the cup from the doorway, but Roland flipped his hand out and brought the cup through the air to them. Bakari sniffed it and closed his eyes.
“Well?” Roland urged. “What is it?”
Bakari didn’t acknowledge Roland except to hold up his finger to tell Roland to wait a moment.
Roland sat impatiently, looking across at the young scholar wizard. Bakari had grown up at the Citadel as an orphan and, during that time, had won the respect and favor of most of the other wizards for his ability to recall anything he had seen or read. And his being named a full wizard a year earlier, at fourteen years old, got on Roland’s nerves. Roland ground his teeth together. While Roland did everything quickly and impetuously, Bak moved slowly, thought slowly, and took his time doing everything.
“Maloak,” Bakari said.
Roland was once again amazed at what Bakari could remember from the many books he had read. Maybe there was still hope for the kid after all.
“Should we find the physician?” one of the burly guards asked. The man clearly didn’t want to be held responsible for the Chief Judge dying on his watch. He would end up, at best, working along the magical barrier.
“The antidote can only be made through the use of a magic spell,” Bakari said. “We must get Onius. The Chief Judge doesn’t have much time.”
Bakari stood up to go find the older wizard.
“Bak, no. Wait.” Roland closed his eyes. “I will.”
To the obvious surprise of everyone in the room, Roland remained there and kept his eyes closed. He pictured Onius in his mind, concentrated hard, and then spoke to his mentor’s mind.
Onius, come to the library now. The Chief Judge has been poisoned.
He felt a response, as if Onius had actually jumped up in surprise. So he reiterated the point. Hurry. Then Roland opened his eyes and saw Bakari holding his head in his hands.
“What did you do? My head is killing me.”
“I called Onius with my mind,” Roland said matter-of-factly.
“Well, your power washed over me on its way there. You need to learn to focus better.”
Roland grunted and furrowed his eyebrows at the young wizard standing opposite him.
Bakari smiled. “Sorry, Roland, I didn’t mean it wasn’t amazing. It’s just that you killed my head. I don’t know of anyone else with that ability... except for a few level four or five wizards. How did you do that?”
“Yes, how?” boomed a loud voice as Onius rushed into the room, his robes swirling around him. “A great scholarly question but one that can be answered later. Now, what happened?”
Bakari showed Onius the empty cup, in whi
ch the residue of the poison, mixed with a chilled juice, still lingered.
“Water. We need water,” Onius informed them. “We need to dilute the poison before it gets farther in his system.”
Roland glanced down and frowned. “I can’t move water yet,” he mumbled. At least, not without making a mess, he thought to himself. So he jumped up and ran down the hall to a small common room that was on the same floor. He returned in moments with a full mug.
Onius put his large, bony hands under the Chief Judge’s head and brought it up a foot from the cushions of the couch. He lifted water to the Chief Judge’s lips and watched as his reflexes swallowed automatically. Then the old wizard leaned down and listened to Daymian’s heartbeat.
“Slow and fading,” Onius said.
By this time, others had heard the commotion and begun to gather around. Daymian’s wife, Mara, came in and collapsed on the ground in tears. Bakari tried to comfort her but didn’t succeed much.
“Papa?” The sound of Daymian’s ten-year-old son reached their ears from the hallway. “What happened to Papa?”
“I need quiet here to work,” Onius grumbled. He motioned for the guards to take the child away. “Roland, get me an oak leaf.”
“What?”
“This is no time for your questions.” Onius’s expression was grave. “Go. A few oak leaves and more water.”
Roland motioned a guard to come with him. After telling the man to fetch the water, Roland ran down three flights of stairs to gather the oak leaves. A group of girls squealed and jumped out of his way, almost falling down the stairs.
“Sorry,” he said, giving his attention to one in particular. Her soft blonde curls hung down in ringlets to her shoulders. He hadn’t noticed her in the castle before.
He refocused himself as he took the last three stairs with one jump. He needed to do what Onius had asked him and show his level of responsibility to his mentor. The leader of Alaris was on the brink of death, and it all rested on Roland getting the leaves for the antidote. The Chief Judge seemed like a boring man to Roland, but he would never have wished him to die.
Slamming the ornate castle doors open—to the chagrin of the two guards—Roland ran out to the lawn in front of the great, four-story castle. He raced past more guards at the bottom of some steps and ran to the big oak tree out front. He paused and caught his breath.
The castle grounds were filled with waves of colorful flowers. To Roland’s left, dahlias larger than his hand bloomed in gardens surrounded by freshly cut grass. To his right, lavender asters stood over bright purple petunias. The leaves of the oak tree stood on enormous branches high above his reach. So, without thinking it through, Roland gathered his power and pushed out his hand to bring a few leaves down.
In his urgency, Roland caused the entire tree to lose all its leaves within a matter of seconds. He cringed inside at his lack of control. But he jumped to catch two large leaves, floating down through the air above him, and then ran back toward the castle. The guards’ eyes were wide as Roland ran back inside.
He paused only a moment to glance back outside and then wished he hadn’t. Oak leaves drifted to the ground, soon to cover the entire garden area around the central portion of the lawns. Roland groaned out loud and took the stairs up, two at a time.
He shoved the leaves into Onius’s hand along with the water the guard had already fetched for him.
“The Maloak is a rare oak, whose leaves, when mixed with healing magic, can slow down the heart rate until, eventually, the person will die.” Onius crushed the oak leaves into the mug. “This oak, being a relative of the Maloak, along with a spell, should help to combat the poison.”
“I hope he survives,” Bakari said softly.
Daymian’s wife moaned, and one of the guards picked her up off the floor and helped her to a nearby chair.
Roland watched Onius carefully. If he was to be a counselor to the judges, he would need to protect them as well. Onius settled his right hand over the top of the mug and chanted some words. Roland felt the effects of the words in the air, but the spell seemed incomplete to him. He didn’t know why.
Onius began to lift the mug to the Chief Judge’s lips.
“Wait,” Roland said with so much authority that Onius stopped. His gray, bushy eyebrows rose in question to Roland’s outburst.
Roland put his right hand over Onius’s and pulled both hands back over the cup. “Say it again.”
“Roland, we don’t have time for you to learn this right now.”
“Just do it,” Roland said with such force that Onius complied, and Bakari took a step back at the command.
When both of their hands hovered over the cup, Onius chanted his spell once again, and then Roland added two words to the end: Kaolam Novis. He didn’t know why, but he knew it was the right thing to do. The power flowed through him immediately and into the cup. This was one more reason to talk to Bakari about his magic.
Onius had jumped when Roland spoke those last words. “Kaolam Novis?” Onius asked. He frowned and then added softly, “Maloak backwards and the spell word for reverse.” He brought the mug to Daymian’s lips and forced a cupful into him. Everyone waited in silence.
“How did you know?” Onius gazed at Roland with wide eyes. “You haven’t learned that yet.”
Roland only shrugged.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Onius gave Roland a look that brooked no argument.
Moments later, color began to return to the leader of Alaris’s face, and his heart rate strengthened. Onius told the guards to take the Chief Judge to his bed and informed his wife that, after a good night’s sleep, the Chief Judge should be fine, although still a little weak for a few days. With that, the guards carried Daymian from the library with his wife and son in tow.
Onius, still sitting on the floor, leaned his head back against a chair and closed his eyes. Using magic always took a toll on the user. The more strength the spell held, the more weak the person’s body was after using it.
Roland watched his mentor and wondered what he thought about Roland’s ability. He liked Onius and learned a lot from him, but he knew he had done things today that couldn’t be explained. Roland walked over to a sizeable window and put his hands on the sill, the residue of power still coursing through his veins. He was not tired, as he should have been after such a feat of magic. In fact, he felt invigorated.
Bakari rose and made himself busy cleaning things up, then bid farewell and left the room.
Roland continued to gaze out the window. In the dark but torch-lit evening, he could see the comings and goings of guards and of others around the castle grounds. They went about their routines as normal, not realizing their leader had almost died that evening. Then Roland felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. Onius looked exhausted.
“Roland, we will talk tomorrow. I think we all need some rest now, and I need time to think.”
“I...” Roland tried to speak.
“Don’t say anything. Tonight, I saw and heard things I never thought I would see and hear from you, Roland. I need to think about this.”
“But…” Roland tried again to speak. He thought his mentor must be angry with him. “I tried, Onius. I really did. I tried to be responsible and help out.”
Onius softened his gaze and stroked his mustache and short beard. He sighed deeply and then spoke. “I’m proud of you, Roland. You acted tonight without thought for yourself, and you put yourself at risk to help another. You acted rationally in a potentially dangerous situation. I will rethink our conversation from this afternoon.”
Roland bowed with a slight flourish. “Thank you, Counselor.”
Onius glanced out the window for a moment before leaving the room. With a flourish of his silk robes swirling around him, he turned back to Roland and gave a questioning glare to his young apprentice, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.
“What?” Roland asked, wondering what he had done this time.
Roland followed hi
s mentor’s gaze out the window. The gigantic oak tree stood bare and leafless in the night air. His cheeks reddened, and he shrugged his shoulders.
Onius laughed out loud, turned, and walked out of the library. His booming laughter echoed back through the hall and down the stairs. Roland glanced outside once more and saw a few latecomers pointing to the enormous bare tree. He smiled and blew out the candles, closed the door, and then headed down the stairs himself.
Now, where did that lovely lass go that I passed earlier on the stairs?
CHAPTER FOUR
“So, what is it you wanted to learn about, Roland?” Bakari asked.
Roland sat opposite him in the library with his legs sprawled over the side of an overstuffed chair. The center of the large library was arranged like a sitting room, with colorful couches and chairs and a small table, for readers to relax in and discuss things they had studied and read.
It was the day after they had saved the Chief Judge’s life. Bakari hung on the top rung of a ladder, putting a book away on the top shelf. This library, the second largest in Alaris, held more books than anywhere else, except for the wizards’ Citadel. Books rose from floor to ceiling here, with study rooms off to each side. And scribes worked constantly to make sure the books were continually preserved and recopied.
“I want to understand more about the history of wizardry and if there is a difference between wizards now and wizards in the past.”
“Quite a scholarly question, coming from you, Roland.”
“Bak!”
“I was joking. I thought you liked jokes. You told me I needed to be more personable. I believe what you said was I need to get my nose out of my books more often.”
Bakari, a year younger than Roland, was the closest thing to a friend that Roland had in Alaris. There were plenty of girls who wanted to spend time with Roland, but he didn’t get along with the other young men very well. Bakari thought it was probably because Roland thought himself better than everyone else and far more advanced of a wizard than he was being given credit for. But Bakari ignored his friend’s attitude and tried to find the good in Roland. He had decided Roland wasn’t such a bad person, deep down inside.
