A Sorcerer's Fist

by Guy Antibes

  Someone pounded on Ricky’s front door.

  The sorcerers looked at one another in fear.

  “Are you expecting someone to join you?” Ricky asked as he got up. He grabbed his wand and extended the blade, this time. He also sang a shield before he opened the door.

  A white-shoed sorcerer huffed and puffed, red in the face. “Are you harboring any sorcerers?” Another sorcerer stood behind.

  “No. I am entertaining some Vorrian guests,” Ricky said as he sang the compulsion counterspell. Both men dropped to the ground.

  The three men crowded behind Ricky. “The Master!” one of them said, his hand going to his mouth.

  “Help me drag them in,” Ricky said. These people are un-serious, he thought.

  The two men came to once they were taken inside. The three sorcerers returned to their places on the couch, looking afraid, but Ricky, holding his wand, stood over them all.

  Both men sat up, holding their heads.

  “Compulsion gives you a headache,” Ricky said.

  “What did you do to us?” the Master said.

  “I learned a little trick after I left Vorria and became a Tower sorcerer,” Ricky said.

  “You, a Tower sorcerer? I don’t believe it.”

  “Belief is not a requirement for our discussion,” Ricky said. “Plainly put, a Botoyan put a spell on you.”

  “What?” The Master rubbed his head a bit more.

  “We were, Master Gottal,” the master’s companion said. “I can tell I’m no longer angry at this Parantian.”

  Every sorcerer in the room contributed to an explosion of Vorrian words, except for Ricky, who had no idea what they said. He had to wait for the talk to settle down.

  “Do you want to learn the counterspell?” Ricky said.

  They all bobbed their heads yes. In half-an-hour, all the sorcerers, except for a particularly weak one, had learned the counterspell and the protection spell.

  “You know the compulsion spell?” Master Gottal said.

  “I do,” Ricky said.

  “Then why didn’t you compel us to support you?”

  Ricky looked at the five men. “Is that ethical? Would you think you were somehow violated if I did that?”

  “Of course,” the leader of the three sorcerers said.

  “So I’d never compel someone unless the situation was dire, and I’d hesitate even then. I have sung interrogation before. The protection spell works on both, by the way, so I can’t even find out your true feelings now. Are you still a fanatical Botoyan?”

  The Master gnashed his teeth. “Of course not!” His face turned red again. “You killed my sorcerers, but they were compelled.”

  “They were going to kill the Council. Compelled or not, I couldn’t let them do that.”

  Master Gottal looked away. “I suppose you are right. You can slide that blade back inside your wand.”

  Ricky did so.

  Someone was at the door again. Ricky slid the blade out and went to the door.

  A young man bearing dinner said something in Vorrian. Ricky accepted the dinner.

  “One of you tell the man to wait,” Ricky said.

  Master Gottal’s assistant did so.

  “Ask him if he has dinner for three more.” Ricky looked at the cart in the street. “I’ll pay a gold coin for it.” He located a coin in his purse and held it out for the delivery boy.

  Soon, all six of them ate in Ricky’s dining room.

  “We need to be friends, since I hope to be neighbors,” Ricky said. He explained his idea for a sorcerer’s school.

  “But what would we do?”

  “Participate,” Ricky said. “You can get sorcerers prepared, and then we will fine-tune their abilities and take them as far as they have the desire and capability to do so. Training will be skills-based and strictly voluntary. A noble sorcerer will work alongside a commoner. It is all about how good one is. I can’t speak Vorrian, so I have two, maybe three sorcerers lined up already, but that won’t be enough if we work together.”

  “Your school would rival the Rings?” the Master said.

  “I don’t know if ‘rival’ is the appropriate word. I don’t intend to be in competition. We might emphasize other aspects of sorcery, but that is all for the future. Can we be friends and associates?”

  Master Gottal asked the opinions of the other sorcerers. Sometimes their conversations drifted into Vorrian. Ricky sat patiently eating while he had the chance. He had been doing most of the talking.

  “We can teach our sorcerers our treasured secrets?”

  “Whatever you wish to do. Wedo Sinkel is one of my sorcerers, so we will retain the ability to create bladed wands. That is the only Vorrian secret that I possess.”

  More discussion ensued in Vorrian, and the talking ended.

  “I am interested,” Master Gottal said. “Hemo Grakel is one of the few successful sorcerers in Duteria. It is too far to send our sorcerers, but something closer, even if it is in Paranty, will benefit Vorria.”

  “I have a condition,” Ricky said.

  “What is it?”

  “Purge your Guild of fanatical Botoyans. Botoy is not a god of anger and conquest. The religion has been twisted. Twisted ideologies end up being sources of hate, at least that is what has happened in Duteria.”

  Master Gottal nodded. “I can do that now, can’t I?”

  Ricky smiled. “You can. You are all my pupils now.”

  All the sorcerers smiled. “We will do as you say.”

  “Then notify King Renako about it. He is concerned you will turn on him again.”

  “Don’t remind me,” the Master said. “I will personally speak to the King and the Council, after the purge.”

  Hemo walked in. “What is this?” he said.

  Ricky stood. “I decided to have a few new friends over for dinner.”

  ~~~

  Chapter Twelve

  ~

  P ira took Ricky’s arm as they walked along the battlements, watching Mattia train troops on a field some distance away from the castle. A city of tents had sprung up during the week Ricky was gone.

  “Mattia trains a certain number of troops, and while they train, they live in the camp. When training is over, the soldiers go back to their work and families. I think it is effective,” Pira said.

  Ricky looked on. He still waited to hear from King Renako about Lady Rasso’s attempt to retake her domain. The King felt confident Jac would remain in control, but money had a way of talking over every other consideration. At least the prospect of the Vorrian Sorcery Guild taking over Vorria was eliminated. Master Gottal assigned one of the three sorcerers, who had originally sought asylum, as a liaison. He and Wedo had already started to liaise in the village tavern.

  “What comes next?” she said.

  “You are the one who was supposed to have come up with a plan,” Ricky said.

  Pira gazed out at the soldiers. “We start in Fisttia,” she said. “That may be the hardest, and I want to get that one over first.”

  “You are going yourself? I thought you’d send someone else,” Ricky said.

  Pira didn’t look back at Ricky. “I’m the only person here that has been to Coliat, and I can be understood in Fisttian. I also have some penance to do, but I’m going to insist that you come with me.”

  “If that is what you want me to do,” Ricky said. “Who will keep things going smoothly here?”

  She smiled at him, too slyly for his comfort. “I will show you.” She took his hand and dragged him to the ducal upper quarters. They entered the larger, more ornate study of the upper floor. The desk had been moved, and a table dominated the room.

  “If you would provide us with chairs,” Pira said.

  Ricky took two chairs from the periphery of the room and moved them to the table, while Pira brought a portfolio from the huge desk. She laid out a set of documents.

  “We talked about splitting responsibilities. Mattia continues with training soldiers
and providing security. I will take Ciara with us. Nania will handle the administration of the castle. She was a warden once.”

  “I know,” Ricky said.

  “Hemo will work with the sorcerers. We have reason to believe that there might be more coming. Mirano Bespa and Siria are training soldiers to be healers. Wedo, if he can stay sober, will sharpen swords with his power. Greda is our recorder and will work with Nania,” Pira said.

  “What about the construction of barracks and offices?”

  “Samira combined with the village to the south is nearly large enough to qualify for a town. If there is construction work in the village, it will flow north towards the castle. What do you think?”

  “How long will we be gone?” Ricky asked.

  “Two or three weeks. It depends on how quickly we can fly carrying Ciara between us.”

  “Fisttia is risky,” Ricky said. “They were in league with King Leon. Their king might be as greedy and as determined not to help us as your guardian.”

  “Former guardian,” Pira said, correcting Ricky. “All we need to do is give King Korlia the sterility counterspell, and then we fly away. What can go wrong?”

  “A million things,” Ricky said, “but if neither of us comes back, Duke Noacci will have a base for the Order.”

  “He will, but we will come back. I have faith in you and in Ciara.”

  “And in yourself?”

  Pira smiled. “Especially in myself.”

  ~

  Ricky waited to leave until he had contacted Jac to find that Lady Rasso had failed to get the support from Vorria that she needed. King Renako had sent a bird to Southport, the former and new name of Rassoport, with the good news. Bolstered that he had made progress with Dimani and Vorria, he took off, carrying Ciara, who wasn’t very happy with the whole flying thing.

  They spent the night in Okansil. Ricky didn’t bother contacting the King, Master Gottal, or Hemo’s brother-in-law. He would probably introduce Pira to them on the way back when they could share their progress with the Fisttian monarchy.

  Pira and Ciara left the inn early in the morning and found a good map of Vorria and Fisttia. They spent a late breakfast determining their route and where they would spend nights. Pira spoke both Vorrian and Fisttian, so Ricky would rely on her to make arrangements. If he were traveling alone, he would be sleeping outside. He had to make concessions.

  He knew how difficult returning to Fisttia might be. Pira warned him that he might be retained as a favor to King Leon. Each of the two kings sought to outdo the other. Offering him up after he had so effectively eluded King Leon would be a victory for King Korlia of Fisttia.

  Travel went without a hitch. Ricky and Pira were siblings, with Ciara taking the role of a maiden aunt. They soon looked upon the spires of Coliat, capital of Fisttia. The city was even larger than Sealio, sitting on a big bay at the bottom of the Kerrothian continent. The spires poked up into the air from the many temples of gods the Fisttians worshipped, according to Pira.

  Ciara had been to Coliat with Pira and King Leon during that fateful visit where Pira had laid bare the true nature of Queen Ula. They merged with a stream of merchants, riders, and walkers heading south towards the city. A similar stream headed north back to the interior of the country.

  No one stopped them at the city gates.

  “All the defenses point toward the sea,” Pira said. “Fisttia is pretty much a free city. Who wants to travel this far south?”

  “You came by ship?”

  “Of course. It’s faster than land travel, and King Leon didn’t want to journey through foreign domains.”

  Pira asked some well-dressed pedestrians for directions to a suitable inn. They found it wasn’t too far from the Fisttian palace. The three of them roamed the streets, something Pira wasn’t allowed to do when she had visited the city before. No one would ever recognize her, now that she had grown into womanhood. They bought Fisttian-style clothing with Vorrian coins.

  Ricky wasn’t impressed with Fisttian styles. He listened to the language and had no idea what people were saying and he appreciated the difficulties Mara might have had if she told the truth. He would never know. There were more redheads in the crowd than any other city he had visited.

  Fisttian food was bland and boiled and then boiled some more. Luckily, their inn put plates with tiny pots of seasoning on the tables. Ricky looked around to discover Fisttians freely used the seasonings.

  “Is this typical?” Ricky asked.

  Ciara nodded. “The seasonings are the only way to make the food edible.”

  They retreated to the larger room that Ciara and Pira shared.

  “So what is the plan?” Ricky asked.

  Pira pursed her lips. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

  Ricky raised his eyebrows. “Then describe how things work in Coliat. Our goal is to apply the counterspell to King Korlia. We just have to be a few paces away from him for a minute or so.”

  “But what if he is compelled?” Ciara said.

  “Then we prioritize what we want to do,” Pira said.

  “Counterspell for sterilization, counterspell for compulsion, protection spell, notify King Korlia what we have done. Four things.”

  Pira shook her head. “I’m not so sure we can notify him that he has been sterilized for years. He has three daughters. The kingdom will be destabilized if Queen Ula is put away.”

  “Part of your redemption?” Ricky asked.

  “It’s a practical matter.”

  Ricky looked at Ciara, “What do you think?”

  “I’m here to watch Pira’s back.”

  “And I am here to watch you both,” Ricky said. “What about all the spires? You said they were for churches and temples to different gods. Do the king and queen attend any religious services?”

  “I’ll have to ask around.”

  “We are travelers visiting all the countries on the Kerrothian continent, right? That should be a good enough excuse,” Ricky said.

  Ciara didn’t offer much in the way of ideas. She truly focused on protecting Pira and probably didn’t think much beyond that.

  In the morning, Ciara and Pira strolled out into the city, trying to get information. Ricky didn’t understand the language, but he decided to head to the port. There might be sailors or merchants who spoke Hessilian or Parantian. It was hard to figure out the signage, since Fisttia had its own alphabet.

  He roamed around the docks and spotted a sign that had a name he recognized. Mansali Trading. All the other words were in Fisttian gibberish. He walked through the front door. A counter kept visitors from strolling into the warehouse. A woman rose from her desk and asked him something.

  “Does anyone speak Parantian?” he asked.

  A man leaning over a table in the back lifted his head. “You are from Paranty?” he said from where he stood.

  “I am,” Ricky said. “Does Baron Porio Mansali own this business?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “He does indeed. I manage it.” He walked to the counter.

  “I grew up in Tossa and know the Baron rather well.”

  The man’s gaze dropped to the wand case that Ricky carried. “You are a sorcerer?”

  “I am. Can we speak in a more private space?”

  He laughed. “We can, but you and I are the only ones who know Parantian.”

  Ricky looked at the curious eyes. “Still…”

  “Come with me.” The man opened the little door on the side of the counter and led Ricky into the back. “Now, what is it you want?”

  “You can link with the Baron?”

  The man’s eyes grew. “Do what?”

  “I know all about power-linking,” Ricky said. “I am Duterian-trained. My name is Ricky Valian. You can link with the baron and ask me any question he puts to me through you. I can link with him right now, but you might not believe me.”

  “I won’t do such a thing.”

  Ricky sighed. “Don’t tell me your name.” His link eng
aged. Baron? This is Ricky Valian.

  Is it something important?

  I am in your warehouse in Coliat. I can’t speak Fisttian, but I need some background information. Could you tell me the name of your warehouse manager?

  Brollo Giani. I must go, but link with me tonight. I have some news you will be interested in.

  Thank you. Ricky cut the link.

  “Your name is Brollo Giani.”

  The man bowed to Ricky. “I know of you, but I needed to be certain.”

  “I understand,” Ricky said. He sang the compulsion spell, but nothing happened. That was a relief, he thought.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “First of all, I have no desire to harm the King and Queen of Coliat.”

  “That’s a pity,” Brollo said. “I have no love for the king, and neither do his people.”

  “Perhaps that is a task for another day.” Ricky thought about his words. “Why do you dislike the king?”

  “Lately he has slapped tariffs on our goods. The price of everything has risen in the city. People who complain seem to disappear.”

  “Are there sorcerers who spend more time with him?”

  Brollo nodded. “They are giving us a bad name. Isn’t that a wand?”

  Ricky smiled. He extracted his black metal wand.

  “I’ve never seen one like that before. It looks more like a weapon than a wand.”

  “Watch,” Ricky said. He extended the blade.

  “Vorrian?”

  “Yes,” Ricky said, while he sang the blade back. “It is a weapon. When the blade is extended, it has the balance of a sword.”

  “Can I hold it?”

  Ricky gave his wand to the man after he created a personal shield. Brollo swished it around.

  “Amazing. What can I do to help you?”

  “My initial goal was to see if the king is compelled. His change in behavior suggests that he is. I need to get a few paces from him to administer a counterspell.”

  “Compulsion?”

  “A Duterian spell. So is the counterspell. Let’s go that far first before we think about deposing him,” Ricky said. “Duke Bariani in Tossa was compelled. Did you hear about that?”

  Brollo nodded, then he snapped his fingers. “You were the one who killed the woman sorcerer?”