the mage's servant - extract

8/3/2019 The Mage's Servant - Extract

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The Mages Servant - Extract

P. B. Dillon

CHAPTER ONE: THE MAGES SERVANT

Willem wasnt the sort who longed to go on wild quests in strange lands.

Thoughts of such adventures scared him. He would have been content to spend the

rest of his life just like this, standing in his masters kitchen, elbow deep in a sink

filled to the brim with steaming suds, never having any adventures at all.

The plates and glasses all done, he picked up the first of the pots and

wondered which tool he should use to scrape the layer of encrusted gunk off thebottom. Scrubbing brush? Knife? Chisel?

Before he could make up his mind, he heard someone pounding on the front

door. He put the pot back into the sink. Let it soak, he thought.

The pounding repeated before he got to the door, this time to the tune of a

raspy voice swearing loudly. By the gods of boils and backsides, open up!

Had he been anywhere else, such blatant anger would have frightened him,

but here, in his masters home, Willem felt safe. Instead of opening the door as

swiftly as possible, he paused to listen.

The raspy voice continued to swear. Son of a maggot! it said. Fungus andfilth! Why do I waste my time?

Willem smiled, enjoying the colorful language, but the tirade soon died down

and the banging stopped.

He waited for a handful of heartbeats, heard a more distant, Pox! then

swung the door wide.

A very short man was striding away as if he meant to walk through the gate

without opening it. The man wore what looked like oversized mages robes

except for the color. Willems master, like every other mage in the land, wore blue.As far as Willem knew, no one wore purple.

Can I help you? Willem called.The man whirled. He glared from beneath heavy brows and stomped back up

to the door. He was short enough that when he thrust out his chin, his nose almost

touched Willems facebut he was very bulky and looked strong. If you were my

servant, Id have you flogged for tardiness. Do you know how long Ive beenstanding here beating my knuckles bloody against your door?


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Willem took a step back, but he was still in his masters home. Still safe. I -

Im sorry, he said. Master Palmanders house is quite large. Somesometimes

guests can stand here all day and nobody will notice.

The lines of bitterness that creased the skin between the small mans brows

remained. His mouth continued to curve downwards at the corners.

Nervous now, Willem stepped aside and gestured the man inside. Come in.

Make yourself comfortable. If-if youll give me your name, Ill tell my master

youre here.

Thats more like it, the man said and shouldered his way past. He chose a

seat and put his feet up on a stool. Despite the days warmth, he pulled his robes

tight.

Willem waited.

The man noticed and leveled a glare that could have spl it a rock. Well? Go

get your master!

And, um, when I find him, who should I say is calling? Lord Gothar, thats who. He said it as if it were the most important name in

the land, as if Willem should have known it already. Now go, before I lose my

patience.

Willem nodded, bowed politely and left.

* * *

He found his master in the small garden that separated the house from the

forest behind it, but didnt approach right away. Gothar had unsettled him. Willem

didnt like being intimidated, so he waited for a while in the shade, happy enough

to ignore their visitors demands for haste.

Palmander stood amid a colorful cloud of longtailed butterbirds. More than a

dozen of them buzzed about on invisible wings, darting down to drink from the

shallow dish that the old man held cupped in his hands, or to alight briefly on his

narrow shoulders or the thinning hair at the top of his head. One of the birds,

hovering in mid-air, latched onto a single long hair from Palmanders beardpure

white and fragile, like all the restand flew backwards, trying to carry its prize

away. The ageing mage smiled. When the hair refused to come free, the bird gave

up. It flew back to the dish and drank again.Palmander played with the birds for another few minutes, letting them do

what they wanted and chuckling at their antics. Then he turned the dish over and

said, Thats it for the moment, my pretty friends. Fly away now, and come back in

a day or two. Ill have more nectar for you then. The birds took him at his word,but they didnt go far. Many reached only the nearest branch or rooftop before

landing, fluffing out their feathers and beginning to preen.


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Palmander reached for his staff, which stood upright even though it had no

visible means of support. As soon as the mage touched it, the jewel mounted at the

tip glowed a cheerful red.

Now, he said, finally acknowledging Willem. Have you come to tell me

that youve finished the dishes? His voice was warm and resonant despite his age.

Um, no. Not yet. Ill do it later. Youve got a visitor.

Oh? Who?

He called himself Lord Gothar.

Hmmm. Im not sure I know him. Is he a lord of the land or a mage?

Um, I dont think hes either. He wears mages robes, but they dont fit him

properly, and theyre purple, not blue. Kind of worn and faded

Purple? Are you sure?

Willem nodded, and Palmander frowned. Nobodys worn purple for ages. Is

he really old? Older than me?

No, younger. And really short.Hmmm. Cant be him, then. He shook his head and brightened again. No,

it cant be him. Did he tell you what he wanted?

Just told me to fetch you. He wasnt very nice about it either.

Wasnt he? Curious. The old man seemed thoughtful. Then he laughed and

said, Well, there isnt much point in staying out here then, is there? Lets go in

and find out what he wants.

But when they reached the sitting room, Gothar wasnt there. Palmander

turned to his servant and raised an eyebrow. Willem shrugged, privately pleased.

Maybe he didnt want to wait.

Maybe.

Gothar chose that moment to stalk in from the direction of the study. He

stopped beside the potted tree in the doorway and scowled at Willem, completely

failing to see the old man. There you are. Didnt I tell you to make it quick?

Willem flinched, but Palmander answered for him. Im afraid its my fault he

took so long. I was busy when he came to fetch me.

Gothar whirled. His eyes widened and his demeanor quickly changed. Um, f-

forgive me, my lord, he stuttered, I didnt mean to imply ... I mean, I didntrealize....

Palmander dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. Think nothing ofit. Im sure youre a very busy man, so why dont you sit yourself down and tell

me why youre here.

Gothars face turned the color of blood. He glared hard at Willem and flopped

onto the indicated couch. Begone, he commanded Willem, as if he had a right to

do so. Get out of my sight.

Willem started to move.


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No, Willem, stay where you are, said Palmander.

Willem stopped.

What I have to say does not concern the boy. I dont want him around.

Willem is my servant. He does what I say, and would never break my trust.

He will stay until I ask him to leave.

And if I will not speak until hes gone?

Then I wish you a very good day, and bid you farewell.

Gothar said nothing. He shifted his glare briefly to Willem, then let it settle

again on Palmander. All right. You give me no choice, he snarled. I want your

help.

Willem didnt know what to think. He didnt like Gothar. The man scared

him. And yet he didnt want to be sent away. He glanced at Palmander, grateful

that the old man had told him to stay.

What sort of help do you want? Palmander asked.

Knowledge.There are many kinds of knowledge, and while my library is extensive, it

isnt all-inclusive. What did you have in mind?

Gothar didnt answer right away. Instead, he looked at Willem again, sneered

as if he loathed the sight of him, grasped the front of his robes and said, I want to

know how to use this! He pulled open his robes and flooded the room with pale

pink light.

Willem had seen enough of magical gemstones that he was less than

astounded. Palmander, though, leaned forward, peered into the glowing light and

muttered, The Jewel of Jaegeron, just loud enough for Willem to hear.

He blinked. Had he heard right? The Jewel of Jaegeron? Now he was

impressed. No, not impressed. Anxious. Scared. Everyone had heard of Jaegeron,

the Demon Master. A generation of mothers had used the name to scare their

children into doing what they were told: If you dont go to bed right now, Ill get

Lord Jaegeron to summon a demon to eat you all up!

Where did you get it? Palmander looked uncharacteristically fierce.

What does that matter? Its mine. Gothar pulled his robe back over the

jewel and held it closed. Well? Are you going to help or not?

Palmander regarded him for a long moment before he answered. Willem

could feel the tension in the air. No, I am not. What? What do you mean? Why not?

Why not? Because you arent just seeking knowledge. Youre seeking thekind of knowledge that could destroy everything we know. You want to master

Jaegerons Jewel. You want to summon demons. Of course I will not help you. If Icould, I would shatter the Jewel around your neck and nobody would be able to

summon any sort of demon ever again. Do you understand?


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Gothars eyes narrowed, his complexion reddened even more and the musclesof his jaw bunched and loosened as if he were grinding his teeth. Willem thought

the man would explode in a rage, but Gothar just snarled, I understand, in reply.

Good. Now, if you find yourself in possession of a less dangerous stone,

come back and I will help you as much as I can. As for now, you will have to

excuse me. There are some roses that require my attention. Willem will see you to

the door.

Gothar, though, didnt wait. Before Willem could move, the false mage

lurched out of his chair. When he reached the door, he spun and raged, Dont

think youve seen the last of me! Ill be back! And when I return, youll be sorry

you ever treated me like this! Youll be sorry! He turned, swept through the door

and slammed it hard as he left.

Willems fear faded immediately.

Well, said Palmander. It would seem I have to agree: he wasnt very nice.

* * *

Later that night, something broke the silence and jerked Willem awake. He

lay in his bed and stared up in the darkness. The noise soon repeated: a muffled

bang followed by a curse. Willem sat up, his heart thumping in his chest. He

fumbled in the gloom for his flint sparker. He used it to light the lantern beside his

bed and blinked in the sudden brightness.

Nervously, hesitantly, he climbed into his breeches and headed to

Palmanders room. Before he arrived, he heard more curses. He also heard his

masters voice raised in anger.

Willem didnt know what to do. Fear made him tremble where he stood. His

master might be in trouble, he thought. Even so, he hesitated for long seconds.

Finally marshalling his courage, he ran down the stairs and through the lounge,

skidding to a halt at the entrance to the study.

He found his master, dressed in a nightshirt, cap and slippers, leaning on his

staff and sifting through a scattered pile of parchments. He acknowledged Willem

without turning around. Its too late. The thief has already gone.

Willem surveyed the mess. About half of the shelves were empty. Books lay

strewn about, some damaged and torn. One of the windows had been shattered, andbroken glass lay on the desk with smaller shards glittered in the carpet. Thief?

Willem asked. He couldnt believe anyone would have the nerve to steal from his

master.

Palmander stood. Our friend Gothar. I heard the window break and camedown to see what had happened. I found him with a lantern, halfway through the


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shelves. I havent checked everything, but the most obvious lack is a treatise by

Jaegeron on the summoning of demons.

Is-is that bad?

Its bad enough. Fortunately, he didnt find Jaegerons more advanced

works. I keep those tucked away in my room.

Willem nodded, then asked the question that had been bothering him all

afternoon. Why didnt you take the jewel away from him?

I would like to say that its because I didnt want to judge him before he

committed any crime. But Id already judged him when I refused his request. No,

the real reason is that Jaegerons Jewel gives the wearer a kind of invulnerability.

As soon as our friend put on the jewel, a powerful field wrapped him from head to

foot, and that field keeps him from harm. I doubt that I could have removed it even

if Id tried.

Theres no way to get through the field?

None that I know of.Again Willem nodded. S-so what will you do?

There isnt much I can do. Ill tell the guards in town, and theyll arrest him

if they find him. Other than that, we can hope his talents are ill-suited to demon

sorcery, and we can warn the other magi to keep alert. The old man looked at the

broken window and shrugged. We can also make sure, if he returns, that he wont

gain entry so easily. So saying, he raised his staff and muttered a series of arcane

words that raised both the hair on the back of Willems neck and the broken glass

from the desk and floor.

The glass flew to the frame and fitted itself together so perfectly that it looked

as if it had never been broken. Something about its reflection told Willem that it

wasnt really glass any more, but something much, much stronger. Gothar

wouldnt get in this way again.

Palmander stopped muttering, lowered his staff and nodded to himself. I

guess thats the best I can do. We can leave this mess until morning.

CHAPTER TWO: GOTHARS RETURN

Several months later, Willem sat cross-legged on the floor of the cellar,

cleaning as usual.

Willem? Palmander called to him from the stairway. Come upstairs for a

moment, would you?


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Willem yelled back that hed be right there, gave a jar of pickled onions one

last wipe with his cloth, dropped the cloth over the edge of his bucket and padded

up the stairs.

He found his master in the study with his back to the door, running a hand

slowly along a low shelf, searching for something. His staff stood erect in the

middle of the room.

The old man half turned when Willem entered, and waved him into a chair. I

wont be long, he said. Just looking for.... Ah, here it is. He selected a book,

paused, then handed it over.

The book was a slim, velvet-covered volume Willem had never noticed

before. He read the title: Magic: An Introduction and Brief Lexicon, by Lord

Salisor. He stared, first at the book and then at Palmander. What ... what does

this mean?

It means that you are no longer my servant. If you choose to be, you are my

apprentice.Don-dont you need some kind of magical talent to be an apprentice?

Yes. Residue, we call it. The raw magic potential thats in everyonesome

more than others. You more than most. Why do you think I chose you as my

servant? And why do you think I forbade you ever to touch my staff? You were

tested long ago, and if you want, you can become a mage of rare ability. Unless

you prefer to remain a servant...?

Willem didnt know what to say. Could he be a mage? The thought terrified

him. And yet, at the same time, it appealed quite a lot. Much more than he would

have expected.

Maybe his life wouldnt continue as it always had. Maybe it would change

and maybe that would be all right.

He reached for the book and placed it reverently on the desk, then

looked to his master.

Go ahead, open it. Its yours, Palmander said.

Reverently, Willem opened it and started to read.

Magic: An Introduction and Brief Lexicon

by Lord Salisor

Firstly, and of utmost importance, I must state what should be

immediately obvious to any who practice the fringe arts: Magic is not a

science. There are no hard and fast rules as to its application, and you

cannot become a mage simply through the acquisition of knowledge.

Nobody knows why some people are born with the ability to change the


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world by force of will while others cannot, and indeed if it were known

why, it would cease to be magic and become a science. The very

definition of the word, Magic implies that there is something unknown

and unknowable about it.

Having said that, there are a handful of facts and suppositions

(five: two suppositions and three facts, and the occasional aside) that

can be used to gain an understanding of how magic works. These facts

and suppositions I have listed below, in some semblance of what I call

order.

1) The first supposition is important: everything else is based upon

it. Whether it is correct or not remains unable to be proven, but as of

now it is the best explanation available. The supposition is that every

rock, every droplet of water, every species of plant and animal,

everything that is able to be seen, touched, tasted or smelled was created

an unknown length of time ago by ancient and powerful Gods.2) The second supposition is this: if a being of sufficient magical

power creates anything, even something as simple as a piece of rock,

that rock retains some magical properties. This magical residue

remains consistent over time; it is an essential part of the rock. If any

mage in existence were able to create in the manner of the Gods, this

would be able to be proved or disproved. So far there has been none

powerful enough to do so.

3) (This one is a verifiable fact, as are the next two.) Three things

possess more magic residue that anything else. These three things are:

a) a certain type of crystal, b) certain words and c) people. It is assumed

that the reason for this is that the Gods used the crystals and the words

as tools to help focus their power, and as people are so much more

complex than anything else, the Gods by necessity took much more time

in our creation, and so more magical residue rubbed off.

4) The amount of magical residue is not the same for everyone.

Many people have only as much as farm animals. A very few have much,

much more. Nobody understands the reason for this; the variation

correlates with nothing. But it is important. If a persons level of magical

residue is sufficiently high, that person can alter reality by force of willalone.

Interestingly, not everyone strong in magical residue manifests it in

the same way. Some are good only at piercing the veils of time, for

example, while others may have a particular ability for controlling

weather. Oddly, the crystals appear to show similar affinities.


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5) Finally, if a person high in magical residue is in contact with one

of the magic crystals, that persons ability to alter reality is increased

tenfold. If they utter the correct Godspoken words, then again, their

power is magnified. This is not an indelible law, but rather a rule of

thumb, for if a person whose nature suggests healing the sick is in

contact with a crystal which eases the translation of one substance into

another, there will be only slight benefit, and indeed the powers may

work against one another.

As an aside to this last, there are other things not necessarily

greatly endowed in magical residue which can assist in the performance

of certain kinds of magic. It is known that living sacrifices assist in the

summoning of demons, as do the drawing of certain symbols in the earth.

It has also been suggested that the combination of certain vegetables and

other ingredients generates such an interaction of residue that odd

effects can occur. The fabled love potions and elixirs of life are the mostobvious examples. I mention these last only because so many believe in

their existence. I myself do not.

* * *

In the two hundred years before I put quill to parchment, there has

been no better theory that explains why magic works better. But such a

theory cannot be called complete without an inventory of Godspoken

words and their definitions. The following pages contain such records.

They are not inclusive by any means, but are designed specifically to

expose students to enough Godspoken words within each category to

indicate where their aptitudes might lie.

Willem flipped to the end of the book, closed it gently and turned back to his

master. Whe-wheres the rest?

Isnt that enough?

No. The first part says that a persons ability to perform magic is enhanced

through the use of certain crystals and words, but can it be done without? Why

does summoning demons require a sacrifice? Wheres the history? What are itslimitations? How much effort

Palmander laughed and raised his hands in surrender. Slow down, slow

down, he said. Youve only just begun, and an apprenticeship typically lasts for

years. For now, its enough that you learn the words in the back of that book. And

even that wont be easy. Those words have a habit of sliding away just as youre

about to speak. They take forever to memorize, although it can get easier with long


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practice. They also have a nasty habit of vanishing completely from your mind just

when you need them most. Nobody knows why. I guarantee that by the time

youve learned as many as you can, we will have gone into the history in such

depths that youll think you are drowning. The mage paused. Interestingly, it can

happen the other way as well. A word that proves all but impossible will become

clear at the most opportune time. Its rare, but He suddenly looked down at the

floor. What on earth...?

Willem turned to follow his masters gaze. What he saw surprised him. A

large, white rabbit sat on the rug, half-way between the doorway and Palmanders

staff. As they watched, the rabbit stood on its hind feet, pawed the air, sniffed

repeatedly, got down on all fours again and took two more hops towards the staff.

Tell me, my new apprentice, did you leave the back door open?

I guess so. The rabbit had nearly reached the staff. Ididnt know rabbits

came in that color.

They dont usually. An albino rabbit in the wild would make too easy atarget for predators. This one is probably somebodys pet. The old man stepped

towards the rabbit, and it froze. There, there, little one, Im not going to hurt you.

In one swift movement, Palmander caught the animal under its ribcage and

supported its hind legs with his other hand. The rabbit kicked out repeatedly and

the old man let it go. It scampered out of the study and disappeared around the

corner.

The mage showed Willem a long scratch on his palm and smiled. Thats

what I get for assuming it wouldnt mind being picked up. He gripped his staff,

muttered something under his breath and flexed his fingers. The jewel at the tip of

the staff pulsed red. Thats better. Come on. We have a rabbit to catch. The

scratch had healed.

Willem left his book on the desk and followed the old man out of the study.

Wh-where did it go? he asked.

Im not sureahh, there it is, on the stairs.

They caught up with it in Willems room, but werent quick enough to stop itdarting under his bed. Willem leaned on the wooden frame and peered into the

darkness. Now what? he asked.

Now we move the bed out of the way. Stand back. Palmander muttered

again. The bed rose until it brushed the ceiling. Willem could have stood under itcomfortably. The mage flashed a grin. There are uses for magic, after all.

Willem tentatively touched one of the legs that hovered in front of his eyes

then leaned as much weight on it as he dared. The bed didnt move.

Well? said Palmander. Is it going to fall, do you think? Willem shook his

head. Then what are you waiting for?


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Mindful of the scratch his master had received, Willem moved to his clothes

rack and selected a leather jerkin. He held it in front of him like a net. The rabbit

hunched against the wall, completely still except for an occasional twitch of its

nose.

Bang.

Willem hadnt pounced yet. The bang came from downstairs. He looked

questioningly at his master.

Maybe our friend brought a companion, suggested the mage. Tell you

what: you catch our friend here and Ill see whats going on.

Will the bed stay there? Or will it fall on my head when you leave?

It will fall only if I should let it, replied Palmander. Or if I should die, he

added as he left.

Willem moved slowly towards the rabbit. Its okay little bunny, he

whispered, its just me, everythings going to be all right, just be a good little

rabbit and stay right there, Im not going to hurt you. Its just my jerkin; nothingsgoing to hurt you at all. And then he lunged.

The rabbit neatly hopped to the side. Willem lost his balance and hit his head

on the wall. He heard Palmanders voice raised in outrage. Momentarily stunned,he shook his head to clear it and levered himself to his knees.

The rabbit grinned evilly.

Willem fumbled for his jerkin. Another voice, a grating one that he thought he

recognized, yelled an obscenity. Willem stumbled towards the rabbit. A rabbit,

grinning? Wasnt that impossible? He closed his eyes and shook his head again.

When he re-opened his eyes, the rabbit had vanished. A youth knelt on the

floor in its place. The youth seemed to be about Willems age, with Willems pale,

reddish hair and serious brown eyes. He wore the same green-colored servantsclothing and confused expression that Willem did.

Willem began to be afraid. He frowned, and the stranger did likewise. He

stood, and so did the stranger, copying his every move exactly but in reverse, like a

mirror. Wha-what are you? he asked, but he received only silent mimicry inreply.

Then, a particularly loud bellow came from downstairs. Raen, get in here!The doppelgnger grew taller, leaner and darker. It gave a nasty grin, stepped past

him as if he wasnt there and headed out of the room.Not knowing what else to do, Willem followed. When he reached the stairs

and looked over the banister, he hesitated. Gothar lounged contemptuously on the

couch with a glass of wine in his hand and a tray of cold meats on the low table

between himself and Palmander.

The thief had changed considerably. An oily smoothness and black tunic and

trousers had replaced the wild look and purple robe. But the mans nastiness


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remained. Willem could see it in the set of his jaw and the sneer that never left his

lips. Even now, months after the theft, Willem found himself both angry and

scared.

The little man turned his head disdainfully from Palmander and said, About

time. Now, old man, I want you to meet my servant, Raen. He drained the glass in

one swallow.

Palmander didnt turn. I have even less time for your servant than I do for

you. I will say this just once more: get out of my house. You have no business

here.

And I say youre wrong. Ill stay as long as necessary. And you will meet my

servant.

The shapeshifter reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the mage

from behind.

Willem felt very scared. Uncertain and confused. Considering his last

experience with this man, he didnt want to draw attention to himself, but he knewhe should tell Palmander what Gothars servant could do. Ma-master.

Not now, Willem, Palmander replied, his attention still on the thief. I have

no wish to meet your servant. The only thing I wish is for you to leave my house.

The only question I want answered is are you going to leave by yourself or do I

throw you out?

Gothar laughed loudly. Raen stepped directly behind Willems master. The

shapeshifter had moved so quietly that the old man hadnt heard him.

Master, Willem repeated, louder this time. He stumbled down a couple of

stairs, but still the mage ignored him.

You old fool, Gothar sneered. Do you really think you have the power to

tell me what to do? Do you have any idea who youre dealing with?

Im dealing with a liar and a thief. Im dealing with someone who sneaks

into other peoples homes and helps themselves to food and drink uninvited. Im

dealing with someone who thinks magic is for personal power and glory. Im

dealing with a fool.

Gothars face turned blood red. By all the gods, thats enough! I wont stand

for this! Raen, kill him!

Master!

Palmander spun just in time and, surprisingly nimble for one so old, dancedout of the way. Raen slashed the air where the old man had stood; its hands had

changed into knives. Palmander stared, and Willem surprised himself by charging

down the rest of the stairs.

Its a changeling! he yelled. Even Palmander needed to know what hefaced.


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Comprehension dawned in his masters eyes. The old man skipped

backwards, barked, Stay there! and the jewel at the tip of his staff flared red.

Willem found he couldnt move either to help orand this second notion appealed

more stronglyto run and hide. Still, perhaps he could watch the old man teach

Gothar a lesson.

Palmander muttered odd-sounding words under his breath, and the air in front

of the shapeshifter shimmered. Raens movements slowed, as if ithewas

swimming through treacle.

How dare you unleash such as this!? Willems master demanded.

I dare what I please.

Palmander didnt have time for any more questions. The shapeshifter had

stopped fighting the invisible barrier. It poured itself through to re-form on the

other side. Quickly, the mage started another spell.

Give it up, old man. Youre no match for my demon.

I might surprise you. Palmander completed his spell even as he backedfurther towards the wall. Vines burst through the floor at Gothars feet and coiledtheir way to his knees before shrinking and withering, as if touched by some

virulent poison. Gothar laughed.

Palmander summoned a wind that buffeted everything in the room, uplifting

rugs, sending the table crashing into a wall and tossing planters and pictures to the

floor. The changeling fought to stand, dropped, became a silvery sphere and rolled

through the wind. The thief, relaxed and comfortable on the couch, seemed

amused.

Palmander next tried fire, then ice, then turned the floor into glue, but the

demon matched every attack and kept advancing. Willems master retreated to the

kitchen. From there, the old man aimed bolts of lightning, brought down part of the

ceiling to no effect, and at last sought protection within a barely visible field of

force. The demon grinned, grew a dozen arms, wrapped the old man up field and

all, and squeezed.

Hold! Gothar cried. The changeling paused.

The expression on the old mages face remained defiant. He spat words at the

demon, unheard through the shield, his staff glowing brightly. The shapeshifter

stiffened, but did not loosen its hold.

Everything became silent.Gothar approached the mage and eyed him coldly. Dont even think of

mercy. There wont be any. I just wanted you to know, before you die, that I will

find Jaegerons other books, and I will be the most powerful mage in the world.

There isnt anyone who can stop me. Go ahead, Raen.

The demon squeezed.

Willem watched.


15/16

The final battle was as noiseless as a graveyard at midnight. Palmander

couldnt be heard through the shield, Gothar said nothing, and the demon just

squeezed. Willem also stayed silent. His masters command still held.

The shield buckled, held for half a dozen heartbeats, then fragmented. The

translucent sections held their form for an instant before dissolving into nothing.

Willem saw his masters face contort briefly in pain, heard his truncated cry and

watched him relax one final time.

* * *

The demon held onto Palmander for longer than necessary. When it finally let

go, the mage fell to the floor with a quiet thump, as if all his bones had turned to

butter. The staff clattered loudly beside him. The changeling shuddered. Perhaps

Palmanders last spell had hurt it a little. It looked at Gothar and bowed.

Gothar stepped forward and kicked the mage solidly in the ribs. I told youId be back. And I said youd be sorry. He picked up the staff and hammered itagainst the floor until the crystal shattered. He cast the remains aside. Wheres the

boy? he asked.

In answer, Raen squeezed past his master and headed directly for the stairs.

Willem didnt understand. Palmander couldnt be dead; he was much too

powerful to die. Much too important. Willem kept looking at his master on the

floor, expecting him to get up and launch some new counterattack. But he didnt.

He just lay there. And Raen would reach Willem in a few short breaths.

He realized Palmanders spell no longer held him. Yet he stood as still as if

hed grown roots. He wasnt even afraid any more. He just felt numb.

Why wasnt Palmander coming to his rescue?

Raen loomed over him. The shapeshifter grinned and reached out, ready to

grab hold.

At the last possible moment, Willem lurched forward, rammed his head into

the demons torso and pushed past. He took two quick steps into the lounge beforehe realized that Gothars squat bulk effectively blocked any escape that way. He

turned, ducked back under Raens outstretched arms and flew into the study. He

grabbed the book of magic hed so recently been given and stuffed it inside his

jerkin. He remembered too late that Palmander had hardened the windows whenGothar first broke in.

Get him! he heard. There wasnt any choice; he raised his arms and flung

himself at a window. He struck palms first and it hurt. He heard laughter from the

lounge. Break, curse you! Break! he cried. The hair stood up on the back of hisneck. He hit the window again.

This time, it broke with surprising ease.


16/16

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