To Cast the First Spell Page 20

  “You’re correct of course. Fighting full Accomplisheds, Condemneds, and yetis is way beyond me, and we don’t know enough about this Daniel fellow to depend on him,” Jerremy added, actually consenting without an argument.

  “Yes, I agree,” Sherree said, adding an affirmative nod. She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out the amulet. “I suggest we all link with Jason this time.”

  Samuel removed the communication device from his own pocket and placed the sapphire stone against his forehead. “Instructor Renn,” he called, in deep concentration.

  “I sense the three of you. I didn’t expect to hear from you before evening and even then only one. What is so urgent?” replied the Instructor.

  “We have a problem,” Sherree began. “Bashierwood is about to be attacked by an army of yetis led by Accomplisheds of the Serpent Guild.”

  “Is the Serpent Guild responsible for the High Power spell?” Jason asked.

  “No, it would seem the spell was cast by a man named Daniel. We hope to learn more about him shortly,” Jerremy replied.

  The information being given was important, but what to do about the impending assault was more so. Samuel felt the other could wait. “That is if we aren’t killed by Accomplisheds, Condemneds, or yetis,” he pointed out. “We need to learn a spell, something effective against a large number of attackers.”

  Sherree and Jerremy fidgeted in their seats. Silence prevailed and for a moment it seemed the link had failed. That or the Instructor was contemplating the need.

  “I knew Efferin should have sent Accomplisheds on this mission,” Jason’s voice whispered in his head. “Listen carefully, the spell I am about to teach you must be enhanced by crescendos and played in concert. Sherree will conduct and focus the potential. Pay attention. By the urgency in your voices, time is short. There are better spells, however this one is less complex and therefore can be learned quickly,” he said, and then played the music over and over again until Samuel could have hummed it in his sleep and the others gave their assurance they could perform it as well. “I will inform the Grand Maestro of these developments. Hold out, help will come,” Jason assured, and then the link was severed.

  Fortunately, none of the villagers had been paying attention, being too busy debating among themselves. Hough Bess raised his hands and motioned for silence. “I say Daniel should be allowed to return. He is one of our own,” the official said, and the debate continued until even Orin Netless grudgingly agreed.

  Samuel picked up his trumpet case and removed the brass instrument. Sunlight reflected off the rim and cast an arc on the wall and ceiling. “The music is simple,” he commented, and then brought the mouth piece to his lips.

  “Thank goodness,” Jerremy added, holding up his vyolin and horse hair bow.

  Sherree unpacked her silver flute. “We are fine individual musicians but we have little experience performing spells in concert. Even so, it is well within our abilities.”

  The Serinian nodded agreement. Good or not, they needed practice. There would be no argument over who should conduct the spell. Jerremy’s acceptance was nothing short of amazing. Sherree seemed humbled rather than puffed up over being chosen. Who could blame her? The lives of many people could very well depend on how well and where she focused the potential. Samuel was suddenly glad he had not been chosen.

  Chapter Fourteen: Bad News

  Efferin Tames stared at the symbols hanging from the far wall of his office. The responsibilities of leadership were staggering, causing a feeling of dread to wash over him, a sense he could not ignore. A little good news would certainly help, and the information piled on his desk held none of that. The desert around Kelgotha is growing. A land once teaming with life is slowly dying while mysteries abounded world wide. Each report seemed to add more worries to his already bulging list. Contemplating the natural happenings were, at the moment, a waste of brain power. The barren land around Kelgotha could be puzzled out another time. The current activities of the Serpent Guild concerned him the most, demanding top priority.

  The daily reports of people missing did not seem to be a cause for alarm. Certainly for the families of those lost individuals it was tragic and such things are always sad, but those were problems for their local Accomplished to handle. The many problems developing around the world far out weighed the troubles of individual communities, or so it would seem. The separate incidents began to develop into a recognizable pattern. Abductions were on the increase and so, not coincidently, were the ranks of the Condemneds. This all smacked of Balen Tamm, for he alone knows that heinous spell.

  Efferin jotted off a note to Talmon Reese, Maestro of the Eagle Guild, a long time friend. Balen Tamm had to be stopped. His forces grow daily in number and audacity. All efforts to crush the Serpent Guild must be doubled.

  The pressures were enough to give any Accomplished a colossal headache. Frustration grew. The three Talenteds had certainly taken their sweet time in reaching Bashierwood. The imperative had been to learn the source of the High Power spell, not vacation in the mountains. Perhaps the real mistake was in failing to send a full Accomplished to investigate. The world could not afford such poor decisions.

  “Grand Maestro,” Bran said, meekly, showing only his head through the half open door.

  “Yes, what is it?” Efferin replied, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  Bran stepped all the way inside and cleared is throat. “Instructor Jason Renn is here to see you. He said the matter is urgent.”

  Efferin let out a long sigh. “Well, show him in,” he said, hoping for news on the High Power spell.

  Jason entered the office. The strain etched on his face indicated a high level of tension. No doubt his information would prove to be unpleasant. He took a deep breath and waited for Bran to exit before speaking. “I reported earlier that the Talenteds came across the corpse of a yeti,” he began, forgetting to even give the proper greeting. The slip in protocol could be ignored. Indeed, the news had to be terrible for the Instructor to forget his place.

  Efferin folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Yes, go on,” he said, with a dry throat, preparing himself for the worst.

  “Bashierwood is surrounded by yetis, directed, I’m told, by Accomplisheds of the Serpent Guild,” Jason began, words coming out in a rush. He continued on in the same breath. “I taught the Symphonic spell, Wall of Wind, to the Talenteds. Hopefully, they can keep the creatures at bay until we can send help.”

  Efferin slammed his fist on the desk. The news was almost bad beyond belief. An army of yetis on Tannakonna is unprecedented, seeing the mountain had little if any strategic value. Bad did not begin to describe this news. This was nothing short of a disaster. “It would seem the High Power spell was only a trick to lure our people into a trap,” he said, forcing his voice to remain even and sound calm through a shear act of will.

  Jason shook his head negatively. “The Talenteds believe a man named Daniel worked the spell. They have yet to meet him, but I am told he has offered to help defend against the servants of Balen Tamm,” he said, in a voice filled with anxiety.

  Efferin rubbed his chin, contemplating; at least the three youngsters had made progress on their mission. And, hopefully would live long enough to complete it. “I see. If they manage to survive the assault, Daniel is to be brought to Aakadon immediately.”

  “Your will be done, Grand Maestro,” Jason replied, stiffly, as if he expected more.

  Giving the proper response proved the Accomplished finally remembered to whom he was speaking. Efferin smiled, a difficult act but necessary in order to appear confident. “Wall of Wind, is an excellent choice of spells. It is relatively simple and can be quite effective when performed in concert,” he said, smoothly, comfortingly.

  A deep frown appeared on the Instructor’s face, revealing how miserably the attempt to encourage him had failed. His face turned red and his eyebrows arched up. “We must help them. You know our Tal
enteds can’t hold back the yetis indefinitely and they are certainly no match for opposing Accomplisheds,” he said, in high volume, and then added, “Grand Maestro.”

  The man obviously had not thought out the situation, perhaps a strong dose of reality would help. “Listen to me. The village will be over run well before any Accomplisheds of the Eagle Guild can possibility get to them. Horses at full gallop would take at least two days to make the journey that is if they don’t fall over dead of exhaustion. Our people are more likely to arrive just in time to help bury the dead,” Efferin said, firmly, and not liking the very idea of having to give an explanation.

  “No, we must do something. You can’t just let them die!” Jason shouted, definitely forgetting his place, using a tone which was completely out of line.

  “Instructor!” Efferin shouted, striking the desktop with his fist for punctuation and giving his sternest stare.

  “Yes, Grand Maestro, how may I serve,” Jason replied, in a much softer tone, swallowing hard and staring at the floor.

  “That’s better,” Efferin said, lowering his own volume. No doubt the Chief Aid was lurking near, he usually was. “Bran, come in hear at once.”

  The door flew open and Bran rushed into the office, stumbling in his haste, only Jason grabbing his arm kept the man from falling on his face. “Yes, Grand Maestro, how may I serve?” he asked, between rapid breaths.

  “Get me Fenton Chen’s amulet. I need to send a message to Cleona,” Efferin commanded.

  Bran straightened to his full height and blinked, “I was about to come in with a request from her,” he said, and then hesitated.

  “Well, what does she want?” Efferin asked in a shout. Why does the man always hesitate?

  Bran glanced briefly at Jason and took a deep breath. “There have been sightings of yetis in her kingdom. The reports place them on several different mountains. Her army is prepared to move and she would like your advice as to where her soldiers would be most effective.”

  Efferin fought back a smile. Cleona’s timing could not be more perfect. Of course reports of yetis would reach her; the beasts were not exactly common. Any substantiated report would be taken seriously. He should have realized that would be the case. “Quickly, have Fenton inform Her Majesty she would do well to have her cavalry ride to Bashierwood.”

  “Your will be done, Grand Maestro,” Bran replied, and then moved swiftly for the door.

  Jason shifted on his feet, having obvious affection for the Talenteds, which was not unexpected. Instructors occasionally developed fondness for promising students, and those three were the best. “I hope that is enough,” he said, in a voice pleading for encouragement.

  Efferin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He had done all he could and only time would tell if it had been enough. “As do I,” he said, and then added, “It has to be.”

  Chapter Fifteen: A Taste of Battle

  Gray clouds drifted low in the sky, blanketing out the sun and every sliver of blue as a gentle breeze whispered through the pines, but not a single bird chirped. Even the animals seemed to sense what was coming, for an uneasy silence had settled over the forest. A twig snapped, drawing Daniel’s attention to the trail, someone, or thing was approaching and trying to be stealthy. He patted Sprinter in an effort to keep the stallion calm while thinking of a shield spell and then waited silently. He could feel his strength slowly return and hoped it would be normal before the assault began. If the yetis were to attack now, he did not want to think about what his chances would be.

  “Daniel, where are you?” came a familiar whisper. “The entire village wants you to come back and everyone is there now, even your parents.”

  Daniel breathed a sigh of relief and led Sprinter out into the open. “Everyone you say, even Orin Netless?”

  “He agreed, although not without complaining first,” Tim replied, while glancing warily to the right and left, yetis could be anywhere and the drummer was no fool when it came to survival.

  Daniel knew the villagers would not reject his offer of help, even the most stubborn among them bent when necessary. “We should move quickly. I have a feeling the attack will come soon,” he said, and then drank from his canteen while glancing at the dirt trail leading to Bashierwood.

  “Yes, I can tell. Even the animals know what’s coming,” Tim said, and then turned and started toward the village.

  Daniel led Sprinter down the trail, heard a rustling in the bushes ahead and came to a quick stop. A large creature jumped onto the path six strides from Tim. The male or female stood buck naked, arm joints twisted in unnatural directions, and its elongated neck appeared barely capable of supporting its bulbous head. Long fingers with sharp pointed nails seemed well suited for penetrating and ripping flesh.

  Tim grabbed an arrow from his quiver; hands shaking while huge drops of sweat dripped from his brow. He was nowhere near fast enough and did not have much of a chance. The creature would be on him before he could draw back, much less let fly.

  Daniel summoned the potential for fire and focused on the twisted parity of humanity. Red flames streaked out at the Condemned, nearly scorching Tim as well. The foul beast fell to the ground, thrashing wildly until being taken by death, the only true relief one of its kind could have.

  He swung up into the saddle and heeled Sprinter in the flanks. “Mount up!” he shouted, speeding forward.

  Tim leaped on as the mighty stallion raced by. Bloodcurdling, screams, roars, and howls came from the woods behind and were met by more of the same coming from everywhere. The race to Bashierwood was on. Two yetis sprang onto the path blocking the way.

  Daniel grew thirsty. He could not afford to ignore the danger of dehydration any more than he could the yetis. The fire spell had set his recovery back by at least several candle marks. A less draining spell would have to be used. An inspiration filled his soul and a Melody took shape for a spell he never thought possible, a permanent sleep spell; a death spell. He summoned the potential and focused, sending tendrils of light out from his fingertips, striking the pair of yetis. The shaggy beasts fell to the ground without making a sound and probably without knowing or feeling a thing, simply falling asleep never to wake again.

  “What did you do?” Tim asked. He could not have seen the low powered spell, only the results, naturally he would be curious.

  “Death spell,” Daniel replied, evenly. The kind only a member of the Serpent Guild would think of using, he thought ruefully. Could Tarin Conn have taught him the spell through the link? It was a frightening thought to be sure. First, a sleep spell and then a teleportation spell. How long would it take before the difference between he and his enemies became impossible to distinguish?

  “Good, better them than us,” Tim said, bringing the matter into perspective. “You seem to have picked up a few new tricks since leaving.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve learned from Cenni Quen and Tarin Conn,” he admitted, while urging Sprinter to jump the corpses and continue forward. “I’m not sure where the death spell came from. The Dark Maestro may have planted it in my subconscious.”

  “Scary thought,” Tim remarked, and gave off what felt like a shudder.

  Sprinter moved ahead at full gallop, raising a cloud of dust. The north end of Bashierwood came into view, a sight quickly blocked by another Condemned running onto the trail. His or her body was thin and wiry, making it able to run impossibly fast for a two legged creature.

  Daniel could feel Tim leaning back, holding on by his legs to keep from falling off the charging stallion. The drummer pulled and notched an arrow, twisted slightly to the right and managed to make a quick shot. The arrow flew straight into the heart of the Condemned. “Go, go, go!” he shouted, at the top of his lungs, as if encouragement to do so was needed.

  Daniel urged more speed from Sprinter, blessing the valiant horse in his heart. The distance to the village grew shorter by the moment. A few strides more and they were safe inside. The enemy did not follow. He peere
d ahead at the near deserted streets and figured most of the people were likely at the inn. He entered the village seeing burnt buildings with fresh stacks of lumber placed in neat rows to be used for repairs after the new assault. Speculating was useless, gaining him nothing but extra worry. He reined the stallion to a halt at the well across from the Polkat and dismounted.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty enough to drink a river,” Daniel said, and then drew the water manually.

  He filled two cups and handed one to Tim after the drummer dismounted looking pale. Facing Condemneds seemed to have wearied him. The first time was always the worst, if the person managed to survive the encounter; feeling drained was a small price to pay.

  Daniel lowered the bucket and drew water to fill the trough, which looked, going by the dust and soot, to have been neglected since the original attack of the yetis.

  Sprinter lowered his head and began drinking after the second bucket was poured, doing so with as much gusto as his riders.

  “Daniel!” his mother called from the porch of the Polkat. She ran from the inn with a speed he never thought her capable of and with so many emotions crossing her face he could not tell if she was happy, sad, or frightened, she seemed to be all three at once. ”You look awful. Quickly now, come inside and tell me what happened,” she said in a rush, and then wrapped her arms around him in a firm hug.

  Expressions of affection were in short supply of late and he had to admit he missed them. The warm embrace held for a few moments more and then ended abruptly as she broke away, guiding him toward the inn. His father stepped out onto the porch, followed closely by Hough Bess. Henri Polkat stood in the doorway next to Darby Jack and Orin Netless; all but one seemed to be having mixed emotions. Orin’s feelings were plain on his scowling face.

  Daniel walked on determined not to show any emotions on his face, realizing none of the people looked at him the way they had before his being an Aakacarn was known. His own father seemed nervous, feet shifting and eyes widening, as did many of the residents who were even now filing out of the inn to get a look at the carpenter’s son as if he was a mysterious stranger.