Chapter 1 Part 4

The following day found all of them at the smithy well before daybreak. They’d found Bindar asleep on the floor of the forge, his severed beard still in hand. When he awoke his manner was businesslike.
“Let’s get to it,” Bindar growled.
“Ok," Ultrecht began, "to begin with, you all have to strip.”
Bindar looked at the mage oddly. “Strip? What in blazes for?”
“My spells will only protect you. Clothing will just get in the way. It will either be consumed by the flames or charred and could contaminate the metal.”
With a shrug the smith undressed and tossed his clothes aside. The boys did likewise.
“Now lay out the tools you will need. Keep it to the minimum necessary.” The mage was unpacking his knapsack, laying out spell components and magical focus devices. He pulled out three small clay pots containing a pasty looking ointment. “All of you, coat your entire bodies with this unguent. And Bindar, you should also coat your tools and the anvil.”
Without comment they did as they were bidden. This was the mage’s area of expertise now. For the next half hour Ultrecht cast various enchantments, slowly using up the pile of items he’d brought with him. Finally the mage called out, “Take your places.” Both boys looked around in wonder. The mage’s voice was huge and seemed to come from everywhere at once. Bindar merely stepped into the forge. “The blood,” called out Ultrecht.
Bindar took a sharp scribe and jabbed it into his forearm. Soon his cup and Ultrecht’s were both sitting on the anvil awaiting the elementals.

A burst of intense heat, accompanied by a sulfurous smell heralded the arrival of the elementals. Without comment, the dwarf handed each of them an exquisite carving of eagles in flight. Both disappeared. The crystal cups burst aflame and melted. Boldly the smith held out his beard. It too disappeared.
“Begin!” thundered Ultrecht.
The boys began shoveling coal and the heat exploded into a white-hot rage.
Standing inside the forge like some kind of Dwarven fire-god, Bindar cracked his knuckles and started to work.
Hours later, the scene gained a sort of surrealistic quality, with Bindar bellowing for more coal, and the constant ring of his hammer. Ultrecht was rooted in place, his face a mask of intense concentration. On it went.

Gage was relaxing in his room with a glass of wine and a new book. His first evening back in town was normally his to enjoy, but to his irritation someone knocked on his door.
With a vexed sigh, he laid his book aside and went to answer the door. An initiate waited outside. “Journeyman Gage, our master requests your presence immediately.” Gage promptly followed.
Instead of his master’s apartments the initiate led him to the Grand Hall where several mages were involved in some kind of very important meeting. He went straight to his master.
“Ah there you are Gage," the master mage greeted the journeyman. “We have an emergency. The Dwarven smithy that Master Ultrecht has been conducting his research in is on fire--magical fire--and we can’t stop it. Can you contact Master Armegon?”
He hated the idea of using the specially prepared scroll Uncle Armegon had given him, but if Uncle Ultrecht was in danger it might be necessary. “Yes master, I can.”
“Good. Do so immediately and ask him to come as quickly as he can.” Though the mage took efforts to hide it, Gage could sense a feeling of worry, possibly panic.
“Yes master,” Gage replied. To the waiting initiate he said, “Run to my rooms and bring me the teakwood box from the top of my desk.” The youth left at a sprint.

Gage read aloud the specially tailored spell inscribed on the scroll Armegon had given him. Carefully he pricked his finger with a knife and squeezed a drop of blood onto the parchment. Suddenly, the incantation completed and his senses reeled. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his uncle.
“Gage? What’s wrong?” Armegon’s voice sounded inside his skull.
“Uncle Armegon, Master Ultrecht is in grave danger! There’s a magical fire burning in the smithy, and they’re still inside!”
“Damn!" Armegon cursed from afar. "I knew he was up to something. What else is going on?”
“The other masters here are afraid that the fires may spread and rage out of control through the city. They've tried, but they can't put the flames out.”
"Mmmm," Gage could sense his uncle's thoughts and curiosity. "IF Ultrecht is playing with the element of fire, not even the entire Academy would be able to put it out. But if it were to get out of his control…," Armegon's thoughts paused. "Ok, wait.”
Gage felt a strange duality as Armegon cast a spell, then suddenly he felt the presence of his father as well.
“Gage, I’m bringing your father with me.” He felt Armegon cast again, and then nearly fell to his knees as the presence in his mind teleported across hundreds of miles. The lurch nearly made him nauseously sick.
“Gage,” came Armegon’s voice. A moment passed. “Gage!”
Trying desperately to maintain his equilibrium, Gage finally answered, “Yes Uncle?”
“Gage, I’m trying to come to you, but I can’t until I can get a fix on your location. You must open your eyes.”
Fighting the urge to vomit, Gage opened his eyes. A split second later Armegon and Avery appeared in the room. Being connected to his uncle’s mind while the powerful mage performed magic far beyond Gage’s ability was too much for the journeyman, and left him with a sudden spell of vertigo. Gage collapsed to the floor.
Avery leaped to his son’s side, a father’s concern for his child at odds with the enchanted sight he was gifted with. He already knew Gage would be fine, but he still felt his pulse race at seeing his son go down.
Armegon put his hand on Avery’s shoulder, “He’ll be fine, and you know it.” He said gently. “We need to get to Ultrecht.”
Avery nodded unhappily and let a pair of apprentices care for Gage. The two left at a dead run.