To Cast the First Spell Read online

  Tim looked away from Gina, though briefly, “What was it?” he asked, with what now seemed to be mild curiosity. No doubt thoughts of the girl were still bouncing around in his head.

  “People seem to think it is the work of the Aakacarns, one maybe more,” Henri said, then stared at the floor, a frown forming on his face. “Be here at the sixth candle mark tomorrow and don’t you and Daniel be late. I want the floor polished and the tables gleaming.”

  Tim, who had managed at some point in the conversation to take hold of Gina’s hand, was caressing her fingers while looking up at the innkeeper. “Yes sir.”

  “See that you are,” Henri replied, and then glanced at the dark haired young woman before heading into the kitchen.

  Tim used his free hand to wipe dust from the table top, a habit, while gazing into Gina’s eyes. He stole a kiss when he thought no one was looking, although what is freely given cannot be considered stolen.

  Terroll decided it was time to take a break. He almost regretted what he was about to do, but not enough to keep from doing it. The young lovers would have a lifetime to stare and steal kisses. He walked toward the couple and thought of the Potential melody. The mountaineer did not glow. Oh well, there was still information to be gleaned. Terroll had grown somewhat fond of Tim and Daniel. Both boys were hard workers and often requested songs while going about their tasks. People who appreciated his music showed themselves to have good taste. “Excuse me, how far away from here is Binkman‘s cliff?”

  Gina looked up, eyeing him as if trying to decide the quickest way to make him go away.

  Tim turned from his lady love and deigned to answer, “Three spans up the north trail. Go outside and look up and you can see it for yourself.”

  Terroll compared the distances involved with what he knew of the area and figured the radius of the spell. The Aakacarn had to be no more than a span from the inn. “What lies between here and there?” he asked, feeling satisfied at the progress and hoping for more.

  “Not much,” Gina replied, no doubt deciding that answering the question was the quickest way of getting rid of him, “Nothing but woods and a few cottages.”

  Terroll gave a nod of thanks, went back to his chair, and wondered about the Aakacarn. Could the spell caster be one of the villagers or someone who happened to be camping in the woods? Terroll was certain time would reveal the answer and all he had to do was be patient, and hope the person responsible had not already left the mountain. A locate spell would be useful, if directed properly. He imagined there was a Melody capable of locating all Aakacarns within a specific region. The Eagle Guild would know, not that they would teach it to him, they would cast the spell and wait for a gratuity, which reminded him of the gratuity he was honor bound to pay the caster who freed him. The price did not matter, having his memory and repertoire restored was well worth what ever was asked of him.

  Chapter Two: A Mystery To Be Solved

  Efferin Tames leaned back in his chair and drummed an anxious rhythm on the top of his oak desk. Papers containing reports from around the world cluttered the surface and added to his somber mood. He glanced at the eight rings, four on each hand, representing the seven guilds. The eighth and largest of all was the ruby pyramid, representing the office of Grand Maestro. His green and red silk coat hung neatly from a hook off a stand placed in arms reach. Stitched into the shoulders were six golden lightening bolts, three on the right and three on the left. He noticed a piece of lint on his lap and brushed it off with a gentle sweep of his hand, not able to stand the sight of filth on his black on silver silk shirt or trousers. He folded his arms in frustration and sighed. He did not like mysteries, no, not at all, especially in light of the burdens he already carried. The ripples of a High Power spell washed through him earlier in the evening and made him feel like a stone lodged firmly in the middle of a raging river. Spells of such magnitude should not be performed lightly and the fact that someone had done so troubled him more, especially since he had not given his authorization in the matter. He knew by the space of time between each wave that the spell was cast from far away and no doubt enhanced by a crescendo. Only a highly skilled Accomplished could do such a thing.

  He took his mind off the mystery and the worrisome reports long enough to stare at his office, doing so helped him to put things in perspective. The room had only one chair, his. The soft turquoise padding matched the thick carpet and was blessedly comfortable. Plaques representing the seven guilds decorated the pearly white walls. A golden bird of prey set against a silver oval identified the Eagle Guild, the keepers of order. All of the emblems were gold on silver encrusted with diamonds. A five-pronged plant represented the Aloe Guild, known primarily for healing. He smiled. They were particularly useful when a king or queen became ill or was gravely injured. A golden drop indicated the Aqua Guild, skilled in the manipulation of water. They were politically advantageous when kingdoms suffered from droughts.

  A circle with jagged lines radiating outward represented the Sun Guild, the conjurers of fire and light. The rock and hammer represented the Stone Guild, the architects and builders whose abilities are seen and appreciated most by the ruling classes. A simple, “Z,” represented the Zephyr Guild, the manipulators of wind and air. A branch with lance-shaped leaves hanging down represented the Willow Guild, known for making vegetation grow. They were especially useful when crops failed and the suffering kingdom must then request assistance.

  As always, thinking of the guilds under his authority helped him organize his thoughts and decide how best to proceed. He reached over and pulled a golden amulet set with a polished emerald from the inner pocket of his cloak, then placed the object against his forehead. “Bran, come in at once,” he sent through the device.

  The massive double doors swung open and a tall man with red hair stepped inside. His scarlet on black robe hung loosely about his head and shoulders, matching his silk shirt and trousers, which were well tailored to fit his rather slim build. A golden lightening bolt on his right shoulder indicated his ranking as a one bolt Accomplished. A golden rock and hammer on the medallion hanging by a silver chain around his neck identified his guild affiliation. “How may I serve, Grand Maestro?” he asked, in a soft voice. The man almost never spoke loud enough to be heard beyond ten strides, although he did seem ready and eager to please. Even now he stood with an insufferable grin, a dog waiting for his master to show him even a modicum of attention.

  “I’ve given you sufficient time,” Efferin said, while straightening in his chair. “Did you ascertain the information I requested?” You better have.

  Bran Tippen shifted his weight from the left to his right leg and lost the silly grin, but not his enthusiasm, no doubt he had the information. “Yes, Grand Maestro. I contacted each Accomplished assigned to cities all over the continent,” he replied, then paused for no apparent reason.

  Is the man going to make me ask? It seemed so. Efferin held his temper in check, somewhat. “Well, speak up! I have no plans to be awake all night.”

  Bran gasped and looked ready to shrink from sight, but fortunately did not. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The grin returned, evidently he was feeling confident. A hologram of the continent appeared. It was an impressive show of efficiency on the part of the Chief Aid, Efferin smiled approvingly. “The affects were felt as far west as Cret and Bon and the farthest east was Lamont. The ripples were sensed as far north as Tinewood and not much farther south than we here in Aakadon. To be precise, the southern most point was Linnar,” the Accomplished stated, matter-of-factly. The cities named began to glow on the hologram.

  The glowing cities, towns, and villages formed a broad circle around a pin point of light which marked the epicenter of the spell. It was in the vicinity of a remote village called Bashierwood, near the summit of Mount Tannakonna, in the kingdom of Ducaun, ruled by Cleona.

  “Good work,” Efferin said, realizing a little praise did wonders for morale. He forced a smile on his face even though the
political ramifications running through his mind did not allow him much merriment.

  Bran snapped his bony fingers and the hologram vanished. He grinned like an idiot. A harsh stare in return seemed to produce a more appropriate and solemn expression on his countenance, there was hope for him yet. “I wonder who cast the spell, could it be Balen Tamm?” he asked, cautiously, as if the question would invite a stinging rebuke.

  While it was true the Maestro of the Serpent Guild, an illegitimate society, was busy causing trouble wherever possible, the thought of his participation in the recent occurrence was disturbing to say the least, though unlikely. Efferin tapped the desktop with his fingers. “From what I sensed, the spell was not cast with malicious intent,” thank all that is good, “This spell had the feeling of benevolence to it, something to do with memory.”

  He glanced up at the ceiling and focused on his beloved mural depicting, in brilliant colors, the Grand Maestro as champion against all forms of violence and corruption in the world. For over a thousand years the major part of that struggle was fought against the Serpent Guild, who seemed stronger now than at any other point in history since the Great War. “The servants of Tarin Conn rarely perform spells having beneficial outcomes, unless such strengthens their position in some way.”

  Just saying the Dark Maestro’s name out loud brought disturbing thoughts and fueled the over all sense that something was amiss. His establishing the Serpent Guild was open rebellion against the Grand Maestro living at that time and a challenge to the civilized manner in which all Aakacarns interact with the rest of the world. Tarin Conn wanted to conquer and rule as a god. After decades of intense battle, some major ones in Ducaun, that ravaged the continent, he lost the Aakacarn War and was imprisoned beneath Mount Kelgotha, in the kingdom of Ecoppia. He managed to survive the millennia in a chamber under tons of rock. How? No one knew. The High Powered spell holding him captive did not account for his longevity or the seducing power and influence he wielded even to the present day. Too many Accomplisheds have betrayed their affiliations and followed after him. Bad as he was, the current and true threat to the world’s security was up and about, and free to work mischief. Balen Tamm, the embodiment of evil, was actively doing the dirty work of his master. Efferin shuddered at the amount of chaos and mayhem being carried out by the Maestro of the Serpent Guild.

  The majority of the Accomplisheds in the seven legitimate guilds were assigned to the cities throughout the twelve kingdoms of Atlantan. Efferin made certain none of the Aakacarns served in their former homelands, thus avoiding mixed loyalties. The members of the Eagle Guild spent most of their time keeping order, which more often than not involved confronting the Accomplisheds of the Serpent Guild. A huge amount of time was taken up just to reverse the harm done by Balen Tamm’s followers. Unfortunately, the important task of locating and recruiting Potentials fell on the shoulders of third and fourth level Talenteds. Efferin disliked sending individuals who were not fully trained to do the work once done only by an Accomplished.

  “If we felt the ripples, there is a strong possibility Balen Tamm or one of his followers did as well,” Bran pointed out, demonstrating a good grasp of the situation. He shuddered, as well he should.

  “I considered the possibility earlier in the evening. On my desk are reports of yetis in the north, sasquatches in the south, and the Condemneds running loose everywhere. There is good reason to worry about the strength of the spell holding Tarin Conn where he belongs. It is difficult to determine whether the shield is weakening or the Dark Maestro is growing stronger. Either way, the results are almost too chilling to contemplate. Balen Tamm definitely has a plan to free his master that much I am sure of. The fate of the world is balancing precariously on the brink of disaster and a shift to the side of the Serpent Guild could bring about our downfall. In addition to these problems comes what I fear could be that shift, a High Power spell is cast in a village so remote even I forgot of its existence. I must know who is responsible for that spell, and quickly. Before it is too late,” Efferin said. He had not intended to give a speech or talk so openly about the problems plaguing him, especially not to his Chief Aid.

  Bran’s face had taken on a ghostly pallor. It was clear he understood the gravity of the situation. “Shall I dispatch a member of the Eagle Guild to Bashierwood?”

  Efferin drummed a new rhythm on his desk until arriving at a decision. He could not spare a single Accomplished. Especially not from the Eagle Guild, there were too many equally important tasks requiring their attention. “No, send Talenteds.”

  “But, Grand Maestro, they could well encounter Accomplisheds of Balen Tamm,” Bran blurted out. His concern was understandable but unacceptable when it involved questioning the decisions made by the highest ranking Aakacarn in the world.

  Efferin glanced at the lighting bolts on his shoulders and stood up, looming over the Chief Aid, pausing to think about the day he attained the sixth golden bolt. It was shortly after his one hundred-eighty-fifth birthday, ten years ago. How powerful is Tarin Conn after a thousand years? Who could know? No one else has managed to live beyond three centuries. How does the Dark Maestro survive his entombment? The thoughts served to stimulate negative emotions and Efferin did his best to channel them into his facial expression. The Chief Aid took a hasty step backward, eyes open wide.

  “I know. That is why you are going to send three of the Talenteds rather than one!” Efferin shouted, and then added in a calm voice, “There is a test scheduled for the senior class tomorrow. Send word to Instructor Jason Renn that the three Talenteds having the highest grade average after the examination will be sent. They are to journey to Bashierwood and ascertain the information I seek. Specifically, who is responsible for casting the High Power spell, a single person or a group, whatever? I must know.”

  Bran licked his lips and took another step back and then bowed deeply. “Yes, Grand Maestro, your will be done.”

  Efferin sat down pleased with the knowledge that his will would indeed be done. He watched the Chief Aid bow a second time and exit through the double doors. It was amazing how quickly a series of incidents could get out of hand. The Serpent Guild grew daily at a time when kingdoms squabbled over petty grievances. He sometimes fancied himself a juggler with many assorted objects in the air and not one of them could drop without causing a disaster. Of all places, why did the spell have to be cast in Ducuan? Relations with Cleona were not good. The thirty year old monarch was not like the older more experienced rulers who more readily understood the importance of good relations with Aakadon. The general population in her realm feared, disliked, and in some cases out right hated anything and everything to do with Aakadon. The young queen had enough sense not to break off relations, although her loyalty needed to be cultivated and nurtured until she had no choice but to bend to the will of the Grand Maestro. It would take time to bring her around to his way of thinking. The rub, there always seemed to be a rub, was her feeling slighted by the fact that not a single Potential had been found in her kingdom in over six decades. That one died casting a spell beyond his potential. The last Accomplished born in Ducuan died fifteen years ago at the ripe old age of two hundred-eighty-three, during her mother’s reign. The efforts of even the Talenteds simply could not be spent in a vain search in what could only be described as a dry well. In the Queen’s opinion, not enough was being done to find another Aakacarn. All of the other kingdoms proudly sponsored Potentials to be trained in Aakadon and she had none.

  Efferin slapped his desk in satisfaction as what to do about Cleona flashed through his mind. The spell could do some good after all. A good master throws his dog a bone once in a while and he had a beefy one. The Queen would be informed of the Talenteds who would be sent to Ducuan. She would believe her request was being honored and yet never know the reason why, unless further advantage was to be had.

  He placed the communication amulet against his forehead and concentrated, “Bran, come in here at once.”

  The d
oors flew open before Efferin could place the amulet back on his desk. Bran Tippen stepped lively into the room while wiping straggly locks of red hair away from his blue eyes. “Grand Maestro, How may I help you?” he asked in a soft yet formal tone.

  “Send a message to Queen Cleona informing her that three of the Talenteds will be entering her realm,” Efferin said, solemnly. Displaying light heartedness in front of the sixty-two year old Chief Aid would be inappropriate.

  Bran’s left eyebrow arched upward. “Do you want her to know about the spell?”

  What a question to ask. Efferin almost could not believe the ignorance it betrayed. “Of course not!” he snapped. “Let her believe the search is for Potentials.”

  Bran’s lips quirked into a smile and then he chuckled, actually chuckled, and leaned forward over the desk. “Imagine a Potential working such a spell.”

  Efferin sprang to his feet. “Do you see humor? The world is in turmoil and you laugh. Is something funny about this situation?”

  “No, Grand Maestro, the situation is most serious,” Bran replied, stone-faced and ridged.

  Efferin glanced across the room at the emblem of the Aloe Guild. “Bring me Fenton Chen’s amulet. I will send the missive myself. We wouldn’t want your giggling to garble the message.”

  Bran lowered his gaze to the floor; as well he should, and bowed. “Your will be done, Grand Maestro,” he said, and then made a swift exit.

  Efferin smiled, imagining a Potential working a High Power spell of the magnitude he sensed earlier. As the double doors opened, he reverted back to a frown, he did not want to be seen smiling by the Chief Aid. The man needed to learn proper decorum.

  Bran entered and stepped forward, slowly, as if reluctant to hand over the amulet, as if he hoped for another opportunity to send the missive himself. “Here is the item you requested, Grand Maestro.”