CHAPTER 1
He held his eyes shut and concentrated, feeling the mystical energies all around him, brushing against his skin, snaking through his hair, and even passing through his body, sending shivers down his spine. Though his eyes were closed and his mind was set upon the spell he was trying to master, he saw the waves of energy before him, looking like sparks of light, saturated in hues of blue, white, and silver. To someone accustomed to the sight, they may have shielded their face from the brilliant light or even turned away thinking they were hallucinating, but to a practicing wizard, there was nothing more beautiful than the magical emanations floating before him. They were like a second skin, settling over him, offering their protection and comfort, much like a mother does to her newborn child. Along with that protection and safety, the magic also offered power and provided the weapons a young man needed to become a mighty wizard.
No matter how many times he felt it, the sensation of those tendrils of magic flowing through him always filled his soul with joy for there was no better experience than feeling that energy, the energy that flowed through all living things. That power, that energy he so enjoyed, flowed around everything, even the world itself, penetrating deep into the ground, the rock, and the very air he breathed. It lived within every being, be they dwarf, elf, orc, or dragon and whether they knew it or not, it was a part of their soul. It connected them to each other and made them a part of something only a select few, perhaps only the gods, could even begin to understand. Magic was in everything and for those who knew how to call to it, to shape it to their needs, and draw it to them, it was a powerful tool, and wonderful experience.
By now, he would have thought his body would have become used to such feelings, would have become bored and uninterested in the way magic made him feel. After twelve years, he would have thought that the routine would have lost some of its appeal, but each time was the same, sending waves of pleasant emotions flowing through him. If he could spend all day basking in magic’s brilliance, he would, but eventually that power had to be used, had to be expelled and directed from his body or he risked being burnt out. Magic was wonderful, yes, and in the right hands could bring about wonders that could change the world, but it was also dangerous and if not used properly, could kill a man or turn them into something...undesirable. Holding that power inside one’s body for too long could be perilous, but one of the first things his mentor had taught him was how to control the flow, how to shape it, and how to expel it so that it did its wielder no harm.
“Very good, Druzeel,” came a voice, muffled and seemingly so distant. Druzeel knew his mentor was close but being so deep in a trance, it sounded as though he was far away, standing behind a wall of glass.
“Feel the magic,” his mentor said, his words becoming clearer the more he spoke. “Let it build and tell it what you want it to do. Do not force it. Ask it to do your bidding. Remember, magic is not your slave, but your partner and will do as you desire if you treat it with respect.”
If his eyes had been open, Druzeel would have rolled them. He had been hearing those same words from his mentor since he was five, since Graeak had begun teaching him the ways of wizardry. He knew what to do, and more importantly, what not to do. He would think I know this by now, the young wizard-in-training thought to himself. But he also knew that Graeak was just being Graeak; always over-cautious. The knowledge that his mentor cared so much brought a smile to his face.
“Now speak the words,” Graeak said, a bit of hesitance in his voice. Druzeel had never attempted a spell of such power and though if he failed the spell would most likely fizzle away, there was always a chance, albeit small, of something bad happening.
Druzeel heeded his mentor’s words and began the words to the spell that, if successful, would turn his skin as hard as stone. No apprentice had even tried this spell before their twenty-first birthday, but Druzeel was extremely skilled and adept with all things magical, or so his mentor had told him, and was confident he could do it. Graeak had resisted the seventeen-year-old’s pleas to try the spell for almost an entire month, but he eventually relented, as he always did when being prodded by his star pupil. He only agreed to let Druzeel try under the strictest supervision: his own. Now Graeak walked around his apprentice, watching intently, with more than a little bit of angst, as Druzeel began casting the spell.
He pulled in just as much energy as he needed and started to shape the spell. To pull in anymore would be dangerous and he knew if he showed the slightest bit of trouble Graeak would intervene and that was not what he wanted. He wanted to prove he could do this, that he had the skills and training to pull this off.
As the words continued to pour forth, he pictured what he wanted and felt the magic react, settling over his body and clinging to his skin. For just a second, the magic slipped away and he felt the spell start to fade. He clenched his teeth and threw his will at the spell, concentrating as hard as he could. His face must have showed signs of distress for he heard his mentor wince. Fortunately, Graeak stayed his hand and let his apprentice work through it. A quality that Druzeel loved about his mentor was that he was not afraid to let his students overcome such obstacles on their own. He believed that if he always lent aid whenever one of his apprentices was in trouble, they would never learn. For some reason, his stance on that had lessened considerably with Druzeel, but over the years, he slowly let the budding wizard fight through his own battles. Thankfully, this was one of those times.
Druzeel felt the magic snap back and the spell took shape. It fell over him and a slight constricting sensation took hold of his body, but the feeling only lasted a few seconds. When it faded, the magic he had held also fled from his body and the energy dispersed. He opened his eyes and looked to his hands. The flesh looked as it had before. There was no noticeable difference. Since he had never cast the spell before, he had no idea what to expect. He had read about what may happen, but wanted to be sure. He looked up to find his mentor standing before him, a blank look on his bearded face.
“Did it work?” he asked.
Graeak Loyalar, his mentor and teacher, stood before him donned in golden robes that shined bright in the candlelight. The fabric had the same sheen and reflection as with a bar of gold. Some whispered that Lord Loyalar, as most people called him, had found some way to spin gold into fabric and had knitted himself fine clothing indeed. Odd swirling patterns decorated the robes and a deeper gold color, almost brown, lined the edges. If not for Graeak’s long white beard, hair of equal color and length, and the odd red hat he wore, he would indeed look like a golem made of the auriferous substance.
“Well?” Druzeel said, staring into his mentor’s brown eyes, eyes lined with almost a century of wrinkles.
Graeak’s mouth, lined with just as many wrinkles as his eyes, slowly curled up into a smile. Druzeel saw the expression and was about to put on a smile of his own when his mentor waved his hand through the air a dagger suddenly appeared within. It looked like a simple dagger and Druzeel was about to ask what his mentor was doing when Graeak suddenly sent the weapon sailing straight at his apprentice’s heart.
“Wh...?!” was all Druzeel managed to blurt out before his hands flew up to deflect the missile. The weapon slid through his arms and hit him right where his heart was, but instead of slicing through his flesh, penetrating his heart and ending his life, the dagger just bounced off him, as if a piece of stone had been set beneath his cloths.
He stared at the dagger in shock then frantically put his hands to his chest, to make sure there was no blood. Assured that he was indeed unharmed, he turned narrowed eyes to his mentor.
“It appears to have worked,” Graeak said with a smile.
“Not funny,” Druzeel replied in a level tone, but his dismay soon turned to delight as he realized that he had done it. He had successfully cast the spell!
“I did it!”
“Yes,” Graeak said with both pride and relief. “Very good, but don’t let this small success go to your head.”
 
; “Small?” Druzeel replied with surprise. “Small? I just did something that no other apprentice has ever done at my age and you call that small?”
Graeak kept his face neutral but inside he was feeling the same elation as his student. He was proud of the young wizard for he had come further in his young age than any wizard Graeak had taught in the same time frame. Indeed, what young Druzeel had just done was quite a feat, but he could not let the young man let that accomplishment, or the sense of power, go to his head. It was time for a little lesson in humility.
With a simple flick of his wrist, Graeak dispelled the spell that Druzeel had just cast. It had been fast, so simple that Druzeel did not even have time to blink, but he felt the magic fade. He knew what his teacher had just done.
“You have done well,” Graeak said, seeing the dismay that suddenly filled his student’s face, “but do not think you have come farther than anyone that has come before you. Remember, there will always, always be someone just a little bit faster, just a little bit smarter, and a with a little more power. It is not enough to know how to cast a spell, but how to use it in the best way possible. That is what can make the difference between life and death. I am proud to see you achieve these feats, but there is much left to learn.”
“I know,” Druzeel said, a bit more modesty to his voice. “I’m just trying to be the best.”
“You don’t have to be the best,” Graeak said, looking his young apprentice in the eyes. “Being great is much more important. A great man. A great friend. A great citizen who helps where he can and lends his spells when aid is called for. Trying to be the best can lead to very bad things.”
Druzeel stood still for a moment, absorbing his teacher’s words. He had wanted to be the best, to be the very best at every spell he attempted, but perhaps that wasn’t as important as he had once thought. Perhaps his mentor was right. How you used the knowledge you gained was much more important than how fast you learned it. His mentor was telling him that coming in first should not carry as much influence as Druzeel was allowing it to carry.
He walked over to a large mirror on the wall and looked at his reflection. Smooth skin, deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and a nose with a slight point stared back at him. The beginnings of a beard and mustache were just starting to show on his young skin. He reminded himself he would have to shave in a few days for it took almost a week for any real growth to take hold, but until then, he was content with the image he saw. Most women would call him handsome, if he ever got out of the tower enough to meet one, but his studies and lessons kept him in the tall structure. Graeak had given him numerous opportunities to go out and have fun in the city, but Druzeel was relentless in his studies, pouring over books and tomes, wanting to be the best. Perhaps now, after hearing his mentor’s words, he would go out for a little leisure time.
“Are you happy with what you see?” Graeak asked, walking up behind Druzeel, looking at the young man’s reflection.
“Are you?” Druzeel said, not knowing why he had just offered the offhand comment.
“Don’t talk back to your elders,” Graeak said, lowering his gaze, though a smirk split his lips a few moments later. Druzeel managed to stifle a chuckle and looked back at his reflection.
“Yes,” he said. “I like what I see.”
“Good,” Graeak replied. “If you have no respect for yourself, if you do not like what you see when you look into a mirror, your actions will reflect your emotions. A lack of self-esteem is detrimental to a wizard, especially one so young, who wields the power that you do.”
“It’s strange, is it not?” Druzeel asked. Graeak looked at him oddly. “For one so young to be able to control such magic?”
“Strange?” Graeak said. “No. Rare is the word that more aptly describes you, my young apprentice. Someone of your age, to learn and be able to wield magic as you do is a rare thing, but not completely unheard of. You indeed have a gift, a gift that you must use wisely. Thankfully, I am here to guide you.” Druzeel smiled at that comment, but his mirth soon turned to distress as another thought entered his mind.
“The others don’t treat me like someone with so much skill,” Druzeel said, his voice carrying a hint of anger.
Graeak took a deep breath. He knew well of the taunts and teasing the other apprentices threw Druzeel’s way. Most of the students in Fount of Knowledge, or The Fount as most called it, treated everyone as an equal, regardless of their wizardry level, but a handful, as with any school, were bullies and always picked on those younger than they, even if they did hold more power or possesses a larger aptitude of magic. Much of their vitriol came from jealousy for Graeak did give Druzeel a greater amount of leniency and attention, but that was not the entire reason for their behavior. Some people were just insolent and no amount of discipline could cull that behavior from their souls. There were a handful of apprentices that Graeak wished he could expel from his tower, but he had made promises, and taken gold, and he never went back on his word.
“Though I know you suffer through a large amount of harassment,” Graeak said, “you are not the only one, though that does not excuse some of my apprentice’s behaviors. You need to stand up to them, whatever the consequence. Eventually, their bullying will relent and they will come to respect you for your courage and talents. It may take time, but trust me; they will learn to respect you. Know that it will not last forever and though they see your age as a disadvantage and something to exploit, it is one of the best advantages you have.”
“Being young?” Druzeel asked, baffled.
“Yes. When the time comes for you face combat–though I hope it never does, but it will for combat never leaves one alone forever–your opponents will think you weak, think you at their mercy because of your youthful appearance. What wizard would think a man of your age able to possess such magic? They will think you inexperienced and you will use their naiveté to your advantage. That will keep you alive and help you win the day.”
“So,” Druzeel said, finally understanding, “your enemies must turn tale and run as soon as they see you.” Now it was Graeak’s turn to look confused. “Someone as old as you surely has the power to destroy worlds.” Graeak raised a single eyebrow.
“Not funny,” he said, though a smile quickly formed on his lips. Druzeel started smiling as well and soon both were laughing.
After the mirth died down, the two went about cleaning up the sparing chamber. They placed the books back on the shelves that lined the room, bottled up the spell components that lay scattered on the floor, and placed sparing dummies back in their original positions. Graeak watched Druzeel during this time and a surge of pride shot through him. He truly was proud of the young wizard, the boy who had quickly grown up into a responsible young man and would no doubt become a powerful wizard, perhaps even more powerful than himself. That thought brought him both happiness and fear for he could only watch over the young man for so long. Eventually, Druzeel would leave his tower and venture forth on his own, to make his own way. Graeak was confident he would make the right choices when he did, but that small amount of worry in the back of his mind reminded him that he had been wrong before. All he could do was continue to guide the man down the right path and hope he followed it after his time at the tower ended.
“All right,” Graeak said after the room was set back to its original state before they had started their lessons this morning. “Off you go.”
“What next?” Druzeel asked, wondering what chore, task, or mindless work his teacher was about to give him.
“Whatever you wish,” Graeak responded, bringing a look of surprise from Druzeel. “After what you have done here today, you’ve earned a little free time. I strongly suggest you spent it outside the tower. You could use some fresh air, as could I come to think about it.”
“Are you sure?” Druzeel said. “I could–”
“Go!” Graeak said rather loudly, with force to his voice. “Before I change my mind and have you cleaning the refuse pits, without magic!
” With that promise, Druzeel was down the nearby stairs in less than a heartbeat. After he was gone, Graeak slowly, and with more than a little pain, made his way up the tower to his personal chambers.
He walked to the small wardrobe and took of his golden robes, robes that had grown quite heavy over the years. He then walked over to his elaborate desk, took a seat, and poured himself a glass of wine.
Although he had successfully put up a facade of vigor and vitality in front of his students, in private, Graeak’s bones and joints ached. It seemed that the years, almost a century, were finally catching up to him. Lately, it was taking him longer to dress, indeed, to even get out of bed in the morning. True, he could use spells and potions to make himself younger, but those would only do the trick for so long. The body could only take so much magic and it looked as though their use had finally come to an end. Unless he chooses to become a lich, something that he would never do, he knew he had only a few more years of life. The thought of death did not scare him for he knew that all things must die eventually and he had lived a good life. Death would be his ultimate reward and truth be told, he was looking forward to seeing his family and friends once again, those that had passed before him. His only regret, his only remorse, was that he would not be able to see Druzeel progress into the great man he knew his apprentice would become.
Druzeel knew that Graeak was finally feeling his age. Though the young wizard hid the knowledge from his mentor, Graeak knew that his student had seen the signs. A stifled grown, a slight limp, or a long breath, held longer than usual, was all Druzeel needed to see to know that his mentor was growing older and would not be with him forever. The boy didn’t miss much, Graeak mused. Thankfully, Druzeel only needed a few more years of tutelage before he was ready. Who knew, perhaps one day, the aspiring archmage would eventually become Graeak’s replacement and take The Fount as his own.
“You would have been proud of him,” Graeak said, talking into his wine, seeing much more than the burgundy liquid. In the surface, in his mind, he was picturing his old friend, the man from whom he had inherited Druzeel.
Not a day went by when he did not think of Hellric and the tragedy that had struck his friend. In his dreams, he still saw his friend’s mangled face and the insanity that had taken him, just moments before Graeak had been forced to kill him. He still had nightmares about that night, horrible dreams about what may have happened had he not acted as he had. He knew those visions were still haunting him to this day because of the guilt he carried, guilt of not being more involved with his friend, not making sure he watched Hellric’s back as he experimented on that horrible artifact, an artifact that at this very moment sat tucked away in the room right above his head.
Graeak had wanted to destroy the orb right after Hellric’s death, but with the damage to the city, the wounded throughout the streets, and his new apprentice, now an orphan, he hadn’t found the time. When the city had finally been put back together, he had done some research but failed to find a way to destroy the orb. And he was not about to do experiments on it to find out if it had any weaknesses. After what had happened to Hellric, he did not want to come within a hundred yards of the dreaded Orb of Decay. So he tucked it away in his tower, hiding in a pocket dimension and surrounding it by some of the most powerful wards he knew. He also destroyed any mention of the orb in old tomes or scrolls he or Hellric had possessed. No one would ever find or read about the orb again and he was confident that its secret, its existence in this world, would die with him. The only thing left from the terror it had caused all those years ago was the small boy Graeak had taken in, the sole survivor of Hellric’s dark descent.
Amazingly, Druzeel had escaped unscathed on that tragic night and Graeak thanked the gods every day that he had little memory of that awful night. He hardly remembered his parents let alone the terrified screams that had no doubt filled the tower when the slaughter began. When he was old enough and started asking questions about his parents, Graeak had told him that they died in a tragic accident, that they died saving his life. The explanation must have been good enough for he never asked about his parents again and threw himself into his studies. That dedication, that yearning for knowledge, is what Hellric had no doubt seen in Druzeel, and his parents for that matter, for they were aspiring wizards as well. That was why he had taken the boy into his tower and that was why Druzeel was now as powerful as he was. That and Graeak’s tutelage.
Those feelings of guilt, of obligation were why Graeak had been so involved with Druzeel and gave him so much more attention than the others. It was why he was so intent on making the boy something far greater than he or his friend had ever been. Graeak felt an obligation to him as soon as he heard he had survived the calamity that he could have helped avoid. He had done nothing to help his friend but he would do everything he could to make sure that one of Hellric’s students, his last student, grew up and had everything at his disposal to succeed.
At first, the obligation to Hellric and the guilt he felt is what drove Graeak, but over time, the old wizard came to realize that he cared deeply for Druzeel. The boy had become like a son to him, a son he never had.
Graeak never married nor had any family. Druzeel, and some of the other apprentices and tower servants, were the closest people he had to a family, but Druzeel more so than the others. The fact that Druzeel progressed so much more rapidly than the other apprentices also helped grow their relationship. He did feel a little guilty about not spending as much time with his other students, but Druzeel was unique and with the right amount of attention and teaching, had the ability to become greater than any wizard Graeak had heard of. That would be what he left when he passed from this world. Druzeel Sesstar would be his legacy.
He drained what was left of his wine and slowly moved to his bed. The sun had barely started to dip below the horizon and there was plenty of daylight left, but Graeak found that he was tired. Teaching Druzeel could be exhausting sometimes. He lay back and close his eyes, hoping that for at least tonight, his dreams would be pleasant.