* * * * *
Druzeel practically skipped his way down the stairs and out of the tower. Not even the taunts from some of the older apprentices could damper his spirits. He just ignored their jeers and made his way out into the streets of Atlurul. He had invited a few of his friends to go along, those handful of students who he actually got along with, but they were busy with their studies. After seeing what they were going to be doing tonight, a small part of him thought he should stay in the tower and get a little extra work done. But he knew if his mentor caught him inside after giving him explicit instructions to leave he would be made to do some insidious chore that he was sure he would not enjoy. So out of the tower he went, in search of a few drinks and perhaps a pretty lass he could fool into kissing him.
The night was crisp with not a cloud in the sky. Solaris was just about to disappear below the horizon and Lunaria was already shining brightly in the sky. Druzeel took a deep breath enjoying the cool air and the scent of flowers that decorated the tower grounds. He wiped away any dust that might be clinging to his dark blue shirt, patted down his brown pants, and left the tower behind him. His robes he had left behind for he did not want the added attention wizard’s robes always brought. There were times when he liked animosity, when he could walk into a tavern without every eye turning in his direction. The only eyes he wanted to draw were that of a serving wench, and perhaps a few ladies as well.
He felt good, having just cast his most powerful spell yet and had hoped that in the coming months ahead, a dozen more would be following. The energy and feelings that magic brought always excited him and he could not wait until he was at it again, attempting a difficult spell. When he was in that trance, that moment when the magic passed through him, when the energy built to a climax and grabbed hold, he truly felt alive, alight with the fires of life itself. He could not imagine anything else feeling so wonderful. Nothing else in all the world mattered to him at that moment when magic was within his grasp, except for maybe the approval of his mentor. And even now, he heard his mentor’s concerns echoing in his head about power and responsibility. That energy was wonderful, yes, but he had to be careful not to let that feeling take him over completely. That could lead to corruption, to evil, and that was something Druzeel would never let happen. Doing good and becoming a great man was his path and woe be the one who tried to steer him off course.
Even though his mentor had warned him, constantly it seemed, of the dangers of trying spells that were above his current experience, Druzeel knew his teacher was just as happy as he was and was looking forward to his student’s next lesson. After all, Graeak’s teachings and guidance had brought him to this moment.
As Druzeel walked, nodding and smiling to the many people that passed him, he thought of the man that had become like a father to him.
Graeak cared for him deeply, Druzeel had not doubts, and the attention and encouragement the old wizard gave to his most adapt apprentice only made Druzeel love and respect the man that much more. But it was more than just love. His teacher respected him and treated him like an equal. That was what Druzeel truly craved: the respect and trust of his mentor. Graeak was many years his senior and much more powerful as well, but he had treated Druzeel, indeed, all his students, as adults, at least when they behaved accordingly. That mutual respect, and the way he taught, was why Graeak was such a highly sought after teacher.
Many of Atlurul’s citizens came to him, practically begging him to teach their children should they show an aptitude with magic. Some paid gold, others offered services, and many offered only good will for they were too poor to pay. Regardless of their position in the community, be they noble or poor, Graeak considered all. He only had a limited amount of space and took only those he thought could become not just powerful wizards, but good men and women. Sometimes he would take in a poor man’s daughter while rejecting a rich man’s son. Other times, the reverse occurred. He had made some enemies along the way but had secured more friends than adversaries. It all depended on what Graeak saw in the potential student. There were a few times when he took in some students that Druzeel felt were not quite up to his mentor’s standards, but Graeak said he had made promises, and he was a man of his word. Those students, more often than not, usually ended up being the bullies. It seemed politics were in everything, Druzeel surmised.
But as time stretched on and as Graeak aged, the number of students he took in lessened. Even though Druzeel knew his mentor could not live forever, though when he had first come to Fount of Knowledge it appeared to him that his mentor would, he had never thought of a time when Graeak would not be around. The man had always been there, to teach him, to guide him, and yes, to even berate him when he had done something stupid, which all children do on occasion. Druzeel really did not want to lose Graeak but knew that eventually, all thing pass. He had already lost his real parents and was not looking forward to the day when he would have to tell his adoptive father goodbye.
He had little memory of his real parents. Graeak had told him they died protecting him and he took the wizard’s word as fact. He just wished that he could remember how they died or how his life had been before their premature deaths. He knew they had been wizards and took great pride that those qualities had passed to him, but a part of him wished he could remember what they were like.
The last memory he had before the guards had found him was being hurried into a small closet and buried underneath a mountain of clothing. His mother’s voice was still embedded into his mind. It was just her face, and his father’s, that were a bit hazy. He had heard the muffled screams and the tiny space around him shook dozens of times, like a small earthquake had attacked the tower they lived in. But eventually, the sound and shaking stopped. The Lances eventually found him and escorted him from the room. He never saw his parent’s bodies, just the shape of two people lying underneath a bloodied blanket. That vision stayed with him even to this day. He was taken to Graeak’s tower then, offered room and board, and soon after, a chance to learn magic. That was when his tenure with Graeak had started. He never spoke of what he had seen to his new mentor and kept it to himself. His soul was still pained a little by the tragedy but again, he hardly had any memory of what his life was like before coming to The Fount. Could he really mourn two people he never really knew?
Druzeel shook all the sad thoughts from his head. Now was not the time to think of such things. He had accomplished something great and was going to reward himself justly. The coins in his pocket seemed to be beckoning him to spend them, so he made his way to the Crying Lady, a nearby tavern that Graeak often visited and he himself had been in a time or two before. A small part of him wished he had a few friends with him to celebrate, but he had always been a bit of a loner and was content to offer a toast to himself.
The tavern was busy but he had no problem finding a table. The proprietor of the Lady, whose name Druzeel could never remember for some reason, always kept a table empty for Graeak, his friends, and a select few whose names the wizard had given to the owner and help. Druzeel happened to be one of those select few so he walked right in and took a seat. One of those employees, an attractive young woman with auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and full lips, saw him sit down at Graeak’s table and walked over, a frown on her smooth face.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice betraying her annoyance, “but that table is reserved.”
“I know,” Druzeel said, trying his best to keep his eyes on her face and not her chest. She wore a loose shirt with a V-shaped collar, cut so low that it would make even the noblest of men blush. “I’m a student of Lord Loyalar. My name is Druzeel. Druzeel–”
“Oh,” she said, her lips quickly forming a smile. The annoyance faded from her voice. “We know all about you. Graeak never stops talking about his prized apprentice.”
“Really?” Druzeel said, his mood brightening. He knew that his mentor spoke of his students outside of the tower, but to hear that he was often the topic of those conversations ma
de Druzeel beam even more.
“Oh, yes,” the woman said, her smile widening as she saw the affect of her words. “He’s very proud of you, have no doubts. You are welcome to his table anytime. What can I get for you this night?”
It took Druzeel a few moments to come down from his elation. The serving wench couldn’t suppress a giggle as he just stared off at nothing, eyes wide with joy. In truth, he was looking in the direction of Graeak’s tower, to the only home he had ever known, and ever wanted.
“A glass of the best wine you have,” Druzeel said gleefully, finally finding his voice.
“Had a good day, have you?” the woman asked with a chuckle. Druzeel turned a wide smile in her direction.
“My best.”
* * * * *