Chapter 8 Part 1

Perilous Journeys

Over the next few weeks, Dylan became well acquainted with hard work. His studies occupied almost every waking hour, and what little time he was not under Gage’s tutelage, he spent helping Kraal with the chores. Only the periodic passing of a village or other traveler broke the monotony of the passing landscape.

One morning after visiting a village where a sleight of hand artist was amusing passers by for pocket change, Gage announced that it was time for Dylan to learn his first bit of magic.

“Won’t the guild object to you teaching spells to an apprentice?” Dylan asked his teacher.

“I am not going to teach you spells,” Gage answered. “At least not yet. I am going to teach you a few cantrips. All apprentices learn them. They will help you learn to control magic without causing serious damage should you miscast one of them. A cantrip manipulates the magic that is ambient in your immediate area. It does not summon magic therefore it needs no preamble.”

Gage handed a flask of water to Dylan. “Your first task will be to chill this water. Now even though you will not need a preamble or to balance an equation, you do have to keep the basic laws of magic in mind.”

“Such as?” Dylan asked inspecting the flask.

“To chill the water, you must remove the heat that is in the water. If you remove it, you must do something with it.”

“I see. So how should I get rid of the heat?”

Gage passed a second flask to his student. “Use the heat you drain from that flask to heat the water in this one. If you succeed, we will have cold water in one flask and hot water in the other.”

“I think I can see some good uses for that,” Dylan admitted.

With Gage’s tutelage, Dylan was guided through the casting of his first cantrip. It was his first use of magic and the tingly sensation that he would learn accompanied the use of magic filled his virgin body.

That night Dylan was left to practice his cantrip well into the evening. It was near midnight when Gage finally was satisfied that Dylan had gotten the hang of that particular exercise.
“There are four flasks of water near the fire,” Gage informed him. “First thing in the morning I want you to use what you have learned to arrange for me to have two flasks of warm water without the benefit of the fire. Kraal will show you some grist so that you can prepare a warm breakfast without a fire. This lesson will be very useful should you ever find yourself in a situation where a fire is undesirable or unavailable.

The following morning Dylan awoke and prepared to do as he had been instructed. He found the flasks and set them out before the fire so that he could easily see what he was doing in the predawn twilight.

Kraal watched from his sentry post curiously. “It’s not a difficult thing to do, lad,” the centaur cheered. “Don’t over think the process. Just pick the water up and do the deed.”
Dylan nodded and addressed the containers. He reached out and took one in each hand.

Closing his eyes, he envisioned a misty stream of deep red fog drifting from one of the containers to the other. His thoughts pushed for several long moments and the weariness of the effort began to dampen his brow when to his relief he felt the temperature of the flasks begin to change. One flask was indeed growing cooler while the other was getting warm. Reassured, he renewed his efforts to drain every last bit of the heat from the one flask. He gritted his teeth and strained deeply until the flask in his left hand suddenly shattered.

Dylan’s concentration was broken by the unexpected action. He opened his eyes and looked down to see the broken flask on the ground. A large flask shaped chunk of ice lay among the broken pieces.

“And that is yet one more lesson you must keep in mind,” Gage told him from his bedroll. Apparently Dylan’s master had awakened to observe his student’s efforts. “As with many other things, when you drain or add too much heat you will either freeze, evaporate, or melt what you are working with. In the case of water, when you freeze the water it is too large for the vessel in which you had placed it and so it shattered the clay jug.”

“I see,” Dylan admitted as he knelt to pick up the pieces of the broken ceramic flask.

“However,” Gage added as he inspected the warm flask, “you have provided me with enough hot water to have breakfast. Thank you.”

That week Dylan spent many hours learning and practicing various cantrips. He learned to put himself to sleep, a cantrip that Gage would not allow him to practice during his lessons or chores. He also learned a cantrip to make his balance much better. He liked that one. For almost two hours, he walked backwards across the top of the wagon wheel as they traveled up the road.

By the end of the week, Dylan was able to maintain his balance on the narrow side of the wagon for as much as four hours in spite of bumps and dips in the road. He was also able to put himself to sleep in spite of a dreary rain and cold night with the aid of his other cantrip. The next morning was damp and threatened to rain, a promise that the weather quickly kept well before noon. Nevertheless Dylan felt surprisingly well rested. Kraal, on the other hand, complained of being cold and a lack of sleep.

“Well we will make Marin Hollow by nightfall,” Gage reminded the grouchy centaur. “You should be able to get a good night’s sleep there.”

“All I want is a dry place to lay down for about a week.”

They reached the village late that afternoon. Gage and Dylan left the wagon with Kraal and checked into an inn with a tavern attached to one side. After depositing their belongings in their room, they returned to the tavern and claimed a spot at the table near the fireplace. The table was fairly long, and other patrons sat at the other end.

The fire gave off plenty of warmth, which was welcome to anyone who was coming in out of the hard rain outside. To one side a bard was strumming his harp and singing a cheerful drinking song along with several off key and slightly intoxicated customers.

After several long moments, Kraal trotted in through the front door, ducking his head as he passed through the portal. Several patrons gave him curious looks while others simply spared him only a cursory glance before returning to their business. The lack of commotion led Dylan to conclude that seeing a centaur was not a very unusual sight in those parts. His conclusion was verified when Kraal approached a rack near the door and grabbed a large thick blanket and tossed it on the floor near the table where they sat.

Then the Janusian settled the Equine part of his body on the cushioned mat.

“I take it the wagon and animals are secure?” Gage asked.

“They are,” Kraal answered. “Now where’s the ale?” He glanced around and spied a young lady carrying a tray of empty cups. ”Madam,” he called to her.

While Kraal arranged for drinks to be brought, Dylan was distracted by the applause being paid to the bard near the fire.

“Thank you my friends,” the singer bowed deeply. “And now a special tale: as the moons both climb high into the skies at midnight and approach their full phases, the Moon of the Maiden approaches. It’s an old custom still practiced in many of the smaller villages in the upper Orkon regions.” He strummed a chord and hummed quietly to himself. “Traditions are important things, and like so many traditions, the Festival of the Roses has its origins in legend and truth.”

Dylan had heard of the Festival of Roses that occurred on the Moon of the Maiden. It was a northern tradition in which suitors would toss flowers at the feet of eligible maidens who were seeking marriage when they became of age. It was usually a very joyous occasion and most of the young women would select their husbands from the roses that were offered to them.

It was not a tradition practiced in the southern plantation region where Dylan was from. More often than not, those marriages were arranged far in advance and without the consent of the bride or groom.

“This then is the story of the Rose of the Maiden,” the minstrel announced and he then struck a chord that had a sad and haunting sound to it.

Lands of green and beauty’s dream in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.
Let come now the men so foul and seek our daughter’s hands.
Blessed by Aphrodite’s kiss unmatched so fair and fine.
Seek and fail let none prevail in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.

Dusk and dawn the years are long in the silence of the womb.
No man was found who could be bound to win a maiden’s hand.
Time rolled on for men come and gone with none to pass their name.
The folk grew old their folly untold in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.

To Hera’s call they bowed one and all their patron’s word to heed.
To learn their crime of betrayal and pride their curse was soon revealed.
Death of the blood was the price to pay at the hand of beauty’s pride.
Vanity’s daughters’ refused to mate in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.

To Zeus they turned to spare them the curse and save the family blood.
And raised a temple to him they built greater than all the rest.
“Bring forth your sons,” he whispered then, “and bring your daughters too.
Choose or wane this one last time in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.”

And so they came from end to end to ask for beauty’s hand.
“Choose me, choose me!” was the cry they heard from all the lonely men.
But each, the girls spoiled all their life, dismissed with cruel scorn.
And to the last was rejected there in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.

And with the rising of the next day’s sun the final curse was seen.
Not one was left of the good young men the girls had turned away.
Instead there stood a rosebush, it’s branches covered with buds.
One bloom for each man turned away in the land of Gal-Ron-Dal.

The seasons turn and the years go by sadly for all concerned.
One by one the old were taken by death’s cold cruel hand.
Until finally the world passed them by taking the last life there
And leaving cold and empty the streets of Gal-Ron-Dal.

Dylan listened enchanted at the sad and moving tale. He had heard the story before, but never had anyone sang that song with such feeling and pain. He spontaneously joined the other patrons as they rewarded the singer with a polite round of applause.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s been involved in the Festival of the Rose,” Dylan declared to his companions.

“Actually you have,” Gage informed him. “Crystal’s mother and father were wedded during that festival.”

“Really?” Dylan was intrigued. “I’m sure that that’s an exciting story. Where I come from, marriages are arranged.”

Gage smiled. “Well perhaps you should ask her about it then,” he said. “They do not live far from where we will be, and I am sure that we will visit them several times in the near future.”

“Are you talking about Calista,” Kraal asked.

“Yes,” Gage answered. “She and Sam were joined during the Moon of the Maiden.”

“I’d heard that,” Kraal said. “As I recall, though, it was under some unusual circumstances.”

“I believe so,” Gage agreed. He glanced back at his pupil. “I am sure they will tell you if you wish to know.”

Dylan yawned involuntarily, and Gage decided that they should go to bed. Kraal, being a Janusian, preferred to sleep in special stables that were furnished to a centaur’s accommodations. He was not tired, though and decided to stay up a while longer.

Gage bade Kraal a good night with instructions to meet them for breakfast. Then with Dylan in tow, he retired to the room he had rented.

“Will we be leaving tomorrow?” Dylan asked.

“Probably,” Gage answered. “My brother should be here by morning. He will be traveling with us to Tycho.”

Gage made Dylan demonstrate his progress in the practicing of his cantrips before he bedded down. Then he too retired to his cot, dimming the oil lamp to a minimum before pulling his blanket close and laying back to rest.

The elven mage, regarded his pupil in the darkness. The boy had grown much over the last few years. Dylan had matured mentally, emotionally and physically right before his eyes. The youth had such a strong grasp on the fundamental ideas of magic, and was very quick to learn that Gage wondered just how long it would be before Dylan was tempted to cast a real spell.

Though publicly discouraged, it was not unheard of for a master to teach his apprentice a spell of self-defense to use in emergencies. Gage knew that outside of the Academy environment, an apprentice was at a far greater danger, especially in the company of a mage for hire. He was also aware that although his family was quite capable of taking care of themselves and Dylan, they did have some powerful enemies. Gage was fearful of the possibility that the boy’s life could be threatened by an attack directed at someone else.

Dylan’s breathing was deep and slow as he dreamed of haystacks, girls with heaving bosoms and scarlet braids and of sneaking down to the river to watch the women bathe.

Gage made a mental note to teach Dylan a simple spell as soon as possible. He would have to drill the spell into his memory as the boy was not yet ready to create spells extemporaneously yet. The only question Gage had was which spell to use.

Dylan woke the next morning to discover that his master was snoozing at a table next to a burned out candle. Apparently Gage had fallen asleep while reading a heavy, leather bound book.

Quietly, the apprentice left the room and made his way down to the commons area. There he found the innkeeper and arranged for hot porridge and fresh bread to be delivered to Gage’s room. Then Dylan fetched some clean water and a cake of soap. He put the soap in his pocket and then carried his bucket to the fireplace. There he chose a second pail from those stacked nearby and poured hot water from the community kettle hanging over the fire. The steward, who was in charge of keeping the fire and water, nodded politely as the patron lifted his two pails and returned to his room.

When he arrived, a worker was just coming up from the kitchen with the breakfast he had ordered. Dylan opened the door and with the errand boy in tow entered the room.
He placed his buckets on the stand next to a mirror and some fresh towels that the innkeeper had also sent up. He directed the boy to leave the food and excused the deliverer.

Dylan broke the bread and poured a cup of wine. The he put the bowl and bread on the table next to Gage’s softly snoring head. The commotion of movement woke this master and Gage blinked sleepily. Seeing his apprentice’s efforts, he smiled approvingly and invited the boy to join him.

“I have decided,” Gage informed his charge, “that for your own protection, I am going to teach you a defensive spell.”

Dylan could hardly contain his excitement. “I don’t mean to question you,” he stammered, “but isn’t it forbidden for apprentices to practice magic?”

“It is,” Gage told him. “And you will not be practicing magic. You will cast this spell only if your life is in danger. If it saves your life, then I will gladly face the guild and defend my decision.”

Dylan was taken aback by the enormous amount of faith that his master was displaying in him.

Gage smiled and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. “This is not the first time a master has taught his apprentice a spell of defense. It is not done in the Academy, but for traveling apprentice like yourself, it is fairly common.”

The moment was broken by a knock on the door. Gage held Dylan’s attention for a moment longer then nodded to the door. Dylan opened the door and was greeted by Gage’s brother, Coran.

“Well good morning young fellow,” the tall dark human greeted him, with a pat on his shoulder. “You seem to’ve grown somewhat since I last saw you at the Academy.”

“Come in Coran,” Gage called from the table.

“No thanks,” the man answered. “I just came up to inform you that the wagon’s ready to go. “Kraal and I will wait for you down stairs. I’ve settled the account with the innkeeper.”

“Thank you,” Gage answered.

The master spooned several swallows of hot gruel into his mouth then took a long drink from the wine. “Dylan I want you to take the bags that are already packed down to the wagon. I will follow in a few moments with the rest of them.”

Dylan did as he was directed and lugged the two heavy bags down to the entrance of the inn. Coran helped him load them on the wagon as Kraal fussed over the team. After several moments Gage emerged with the remaining smaller bags. He tossed them into the wagon and directed Dylan to secure them as he climbed into the driver seat of the wagon. Then with Kraal leading the way, Gage directed his team to follow the centaur. Coran mounted a beautiful black stallion and followed the wagon. Very quickly they left the village and were back on the open road.

That morning Dylan listened quietly as Coran, Kraal and Gage conversed about Coran’s travels and the road ahead. Apparently they were still weeks away from their destination.
Around lunchtime, Gage asked Kraal to take control of the team. As they ate quietly near a pool of water, Gage explained his afternoon’s plans to his student.

“The spell you are going to learn is a sleep spell,” the elf stated. “It is a fairly easy spell and should enable you to escape from harm should the need arise, but it will not harm you if it backfires.”

That afternoon Gage instructed Dylan in the mechanics of the spell that he was to learn. “Now I know that you are not ready for all the intricacies of this spell, so I want you to just memorize how to cast it. It is not difficult.”

Gage and Dylan went over the incantation several times until Dylan could recite the formula from memory and could list the words of power and where they should go. Gage then satisfactorily decided that it was enough for one day and gave Dylan a reading assignment.

That evening, they camped in a grove of trees well off the road. Kraal prepared a hot meal and Coran tended to his horse and the team. Then he sat near the fire and took a well-used wet rock from his bag and began sharpening a heavy sword.

Gage and Dylan reviewed once more how to cast the spell they had talked about earlier, and when Gage was satisfied that Dylan had retained all the knowledge, he directed the apprentice to cast the spell on Coran.

“You want me to put Coran to sleep?” Dylan asked startled.

“It will not work on him,” Gage explained. “His psyche is too strong for you to overcome, but it will allow me to watch you cast the spell and make sure you do it right.”

“You mean this spell won’t work on everyone?”

“That is right. It will work on most people, especially if they do not expect it, but experienced people who think and use their heads a lot will be immune.”

“That’s not very comforting,” Dylan muttered as he reviewed the spell silently.

“You would be surprised how many people it will affect,” Gage assured him confidently.
Dylan nodded. He fixed Coran with his gaze. The warrior was polishing his shield and was oblivious to what the mage and apprentice were doing.

With a bit of nervousness, Dylan began the incantation. He used the preamble to summon a small amount of energy, gave it form and purpose then released it at Coran. Then he paused as the spell began to operate. He felt a tightening in his chest and heard Gage whisper “close” from his left. Dylan panicked in the realization that he had not finished the spell and that he had what mages refer to as wild magic in operation. But due to Gage’s caution in drilling the commands into him all day, the closure of the spell came easily to Dylan and the spell terminated normally.

Coran looked up sharply and Dylan found his gaze penetratingly frightening. “Gage” the dark man muttered, “as if the boy won’t pick up bad habits from you as it is, now you’re teaching him to be mischievous?”

“Did you really feel it?” Dylan asked excitedly.

“That I did, young man. I suppose your master failed to tell you that that particular spell wouldn’t work on me?”

“Oh, I told him,” Gage interrupted. “I just needed to see him cast it to make sure he had it down pat.”

“It felt tingly,” Dylan described to himself. His whole body felt like tiny pinpricks were everywhere. “Can we do it again?”

“I doubt if you are able,” Gage answered. “Using magic is very demanding on a body. Perhaps you should get some sleep instead."

Dylan did not want to. He had had his first taste of magic and wanted more right then, but Gage was his master and he had to obey. He stood to go to his bedroll and immediately fell to the ground on weak legs.

“That is what I was talking about,” Gage told him. “You are very tired right now because the magic drained your stamina quite a bit.”

“Is it like this every time you cast a spell?”

“No,” Gage answered. “Just like with working or lessons, you get stronger with practice. But that will have to wait until you are a journeyman.

The next day Dylan felt as if he were tired and had not slept even though he had actually slept almost nine hours. Gage had told him that it was normal after a first spell casting for him to be slow to recover his strength. “Let that be a lesson to you,” he added. “You should not cast that spell unless it is an emergency, as it will sap your strength greatly. It will also be obvious, to me and to anyone with experience, that you have cast a spell. That is how apprentices who attempt magic on their own get caught most of the time.”

By noon, Dylan was feeling much better. Gage had let him forgo the lessons and most of the chores that morning. After the noon meal, he was back to normal.