Chapter 1 part 3

"All right, who's the wise guy?" Not expecting an answer to his question, Avery sat up and looked around. He had just settled down in the grass under a tree for a nap while waiting for Keeneye to run into town for some supplies, when he suddenly found himself in a dreary stone walled room. It was obviously a teleportation spell, and very few people had the power to overcome his protective wards. The trouble was that all of those few people were well known to have a rather odd sense of humor.

A woodsman by trade, Avery was what many people referred to as a ranger. He could talk to animals and plants. He knew the change of the seasons and weather in his blood. And he was deadly with both sword and bow. He was also trained in the art of wizardry on a master's level and a highly skilled healer.

If there was any weakness that he had, it was a dislike of close quarters. He definitely preferred being outside. He absolutely detested enclosed spaces and his present location was all too close for his comfort. He didn’t know where he was. But he knew it was not where he wanted to stay. He preferred solitude, green trees, running water and open skies over civilization. It had always been so.

Avery was the son of an elven father who was a druid. His mother had been a dryad. Both his mother and father had been killed when he was very young. In the aftermath, he had been taken in by the Order of Stars, a monastery where he lived for several years. Upon reaching adulthood, he left the monastery and returned to the wild. There he attained great skill with a sword as well as developed a natural healing ability.
He made an effort to hunt down and exact a measure of revenge on those who had killed his parents, but by that time, most of them had already died or been killed by others.

Avery was a little over seventy years old when he first met the archmage, Armegon. They spent several years working cooperatively to put down an uprising of bandits and Gythian war-tribes. The two developed a fondness for each other’s company and a form of playful antagonism.

At one point, Armegon introduced him to the elementalist, Ultrecht. Again, a friendship formed and the three spent a goodly number of years working together. Over time they established a domain where villany and injustice were rare. Duke Hawkstone of the Blue River Valley ruled over a large section of the world and actively supported their efforts.

Some very unusual adventures followed. By shear chance they had stumbled across a machine that had whisked them across space and time. They visited numerous worlds and the far distant future, where they had gained knowledge far beyond that of their contemporaries.

It was with the help of this knowledge that they had returned to their native time and become the rulers of the world in all but name. Though the Duke and his cousin, the Grand Emperor ruled the courts of the world, they were only rulers by proxy for it was to Armegon and Ultrecht that they turned for council.

During this time, Avery studied magic under Armegon and Ultrecht. He did not posess the passion to be a sorcerer or the discipline to be an elementalist, so he studied the incantations and conjurations of wizardry.

Avery was well over a hundred years old when Ultrecht used a serum for rejuvenating the body from old age to save him from a mortal wound. The elementalist admitted that he had had the serum for some time, and had used it himself, but warned that its effects were a bit erratic. It had recently restored the youth of an associate, the druid, Marlena, but she continued to age normally afterward. It had irrevocably killed another associate. They had watched him wither and disintegrate before their eyes.

As a result of the unpredictable potion, Armegon, Ultrecht, and finally Avery, himself had been rendered partially immortal; perpetually in the prime of their lives and never growing older. Few others dared the risk.

To the best Avery could recollect, that had been over nine hundred years ago. Armegon, Ultrecht and he had watched associates grow old and pass on. Naturally, they had grown close. Companions and friendships passed through the ages like ships in the night.

In time, they had managed to turn most of their world into a land of prosperity and content. Avery often teased that wheras Ultrecht pursued a wealth of knowledge, Armegon pursued the knowledge of wealth. It was a well received jest for Armegon was immensely rich.

Avery, himself had had a hand in that. For, as a wanderer, Avery had little use for large sums lf money. When he came across treasure or valuables in his ventures, he would inevitably unload the burden on Armegon who was all to happy to keep it in trust.

In exchange, whenever Avery had need for money, he simply shook Armegon down for what he needed, and no questions were asked. Avery never kept score as to whether he had given as much as he had taken, but he was pretty sure Armegon did. And, he was equally sure Armegon would complain if the payout exceeded the income.

All that wealth was probably what so often made Armegon the target of con artists and thieves. Not that they had much success. Armegon was crafty as well as intelligent, powerful and rich. It was no wonder that as skillful as Keeneye was, that Armegon had caught him trying to cut his purse.

That had turned out to be a stroke of luck for all. It turned Keeneye from a life of villany and gained Armegon a top notch employee. And Keeneye was one person that Avery did not mind working with. That was how he had come to be on his present mission; that is until he found himself suddenly whisked away, apparently captive and in a cell.

The room was small, about five paces, and cubic in dimensions. There were no windows and no doors just four smooth walls, a ceiling and floor. A small rune etched into the floor was providing a low level of light.

Rising, Avery walked over and inspected the rune. He struggled to subdue his dislike of the enclosed cell by focusing on the light source. He had personally studied magic under the watchful eyes of Armegon and Ultrecht. Though he had some natural talent before their help, it had been nowhere near what was necessary to be anything more than a common mage of the wizard class. Only with their help had he attained the level of master.

Avery recognized the magic rune quickly. It was a simple spell component which would glow until counteracted. He knew the spell well, for he himself had used in often enough. If nothing else he would have light. The room itself was a different matter.

Walking over to one wall, he slowly began checking for a concealed passage or door. It didn't take long to locate one at all. It was a small crack, running up the wall, which made a right turn and moved about two paces over to the corner. Avery stepped back triumphantly.

Keeneye had once told him that secret doors were usually trapped and he respected Keeneye's experience. Avery believed that knowledge was always good. Even if it was reaped from dishonest work.

Stepping out of range of any unguided projectiles that might spring forth, Avery closed his eyes and recalled a simple spell that would open the door from a distance. Pushing aside all emotions, and setting his mind in proper mode of thought, he incanted the preamble of power summoning and then spoke the command.

The result was instantaneous. The door swung open and revealed a blank wall. At the same time, a click sounded from overhead. Seeing the false door, Avery immediately realized he had tripped a trap.

He cursed himself. He should have searched the entire cell and not tried the first exit he had come across. His suspicion was confirmed as water began pouring through a number of holes in the roof. For a moment he was frozen. His first impulse was to flee until he remembered that there was no door. A tremor ran up his spine with a jolt of fear. He may have just sealed his fate with that mistake.

Looking up he saw the water steaming through the nozzles at a steady flow. "Uh-oh," was all he had time to say before the water, which was coming in at a considerable pressure and rate, was up to his waist. There was no visible way out and fear gripped his mind making magic an impossibility. He would have to rely on ingenuity to save his hide.

The water had risen to his chest and he was beginning to float. There had to be an exit for the room's air, he decided. Then he saw it--three small holes near the center of the room's ceiling where the room's air was escaping to let the water in.

Kicking his legs he maneuvered over to just beneath the air holes. Within seconds they were within his grasp. He took a wet cloth and plugged each hole. He noted with satisfaction that the water flow reduced sharply as the water inlets suddenly had to serve as air outlets as well. He had bought himself some time.

He rummaged through a small pouch until he found what he wanted. He slung the contents of the waterproof pouch around the room. The luminous powder settled on top of the water. Avery watched with forced patience as the water continued its slow, but steady rise. His arms were not tired yet, but he knew that he could not tread water forever.

Then he saw it. Near one corner the floating powder was beginning to collect. Avery smiled, the water was flowing to an unseen exit in that spot. He swam over to the wall and easily spotted the secret door outlined with powder. A moment later and he located the hidden latch and was free, riding out into a hallway on a tsunami of water.

He was in a hallway about as wide as he was tall. The water drained away into small holes in the floor. Further down the hall there was a light trace of dust on the floor. He paused for a moment to wring as much water as possible from his mottled green and brown shirt and matching breeches.

Something bothered him. In the room he had been gripped with a fear and near panic he had not known in many decades. He should have been able to concentrate and function in spite of that danger. It was almost as if he were just beginning his profession all over again.

Avery removed as much water from his clothing as he could. Then he walked away from the wet area. He stopped long enough to empty his deerskin boots and examine the undisturbed dust which contained several series of footprints. One pair he recognized as Keeneye's, the others were humanoid. Probably men judging by the size of the shoe and depth of the imprint.

Keeneye was following, Avery concluded, about half an hour behind them. Any friend was better than no friend, he decided, and with a speedy check of his belongings he made a hasty exit down the corridor in an attempt to catch up with Keeneye.