Foundling Wizard (Book 1) (23 page)

“I think I can squeeze through,” Gareb said. He pushed his head through the crack. Soon his whole body was inside.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“He’s in this one,” Chihon said, placing her hand on the tomb where she’d felt his thread.

She pushed on the lid, but it didn’t budge. Gareb joined her, but even with the two of them pushing together the lid remained firmly in place.

“Try that spell again while I try forcing it,” Gareb said. He pulled his knife from his belt and wiggled it between the lid and the side wall of the tomb. “Go ahead,” he said, looking up at her.

Chihon stood before the tomb. She grasped Lorit’s staff in one hand. “Posuit vinctum liberum”, she intoned, willing the tomb to release the captive Lorit. She could feel her energy draining as she focused her will against the stubborn marble lid.

“I think it’s moving,” shouted Gareb. “Keep doing what you’re doing.” The lid slid ever so slightly out of place.

Working together, they soon had the lid open enough that it was balanced on the edge of the tomb. It wavered and then tumbled to the ground, exposing Lorit lying there fast asleep, with his pack clutched to his chest.

Chihon reached in to lift him out. The feeling of a web surrounding him remained even as she reached in. She could feel it muffling her senses as she touched him and pulled him into a sitting position.

Lorit shifted slightly as she pulled him up. “Give me some water,” she said, holding her hand out behind her without taking her eyes off of Lorit.

Gareb pulled out the water skin and placed it in her hand. She pressed it to Lorit’s lips and squeezed. Most of it ran down his chin, but some entered his mouth. He swallowed.

It took a while, but eventually Lorit was able to open his eyes briefly. “Chihon. You made it,” he croaked, struggling to get the words out of his parched throat.

“Yes, I made it,” she said as she raised the water skin to his lips once again.

“Good. I knew you’d make it.” His head nodded, and he fell back into a deep sleep. She tried to wake him, but he would not respond.

“We’ll have to carry him back to your house, Gareb.” She pulled at Lorit, trying to drag him from the tomb to the floor.

“Wait, let’s get a wagon. We can’t drag him all the way home. That would raise suspicions that we don’t need.”

Gareb squeezed out of the door and soon returned. “I found us a cart,” he called to her. “Can you drag him to the door so I can get him out?”

She pulled at Lorit’s jacket, sliding his unconscious form across the polished marble. When she reached the doorway, she propped him up against the crack and pushed. He easily slid through and outside. She squeezed behind him and out into the early morning light.

Gareb lifted Lorit as if he were a feather and placed him in the cart. He reached down for Chihon and helped her up from the ground where she’d fallen.

“It’s strange,” he said. “When I look directly at him, I can barely see him. As soon as I look away, I forget that he’s there.”

Chihon looked at Lorit. He did seem somehow insubstantial. She looked away. The thread connected them and tugged at her slightly. She looked back. He was still present, but somehow not fully there.

“Let’s get him back to the house before everyone wakes,” she said.

“Why are you here?” Sulrad demanded of the under priest who stood before his desk.

“Father Taiez sent me here,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How did you get here?” Sulrad didn’t think the under priest had the power to travel. Taiez must have sent him with the expectation that the man would have to make his own way home. “Did Father Taiez cast the travel spell? Tell me the truth.”

“He cast the spell, Father.”

“What is your name?” Sulrad asked. The under priest shook with fear.

“My name is Thrag, Father. I have only recently been assigned to Trickby.”

“What news has Father Taiez asked you to convey to me that he could not have carried himself?”

“He is occupied, Father.”

“Occupied with what? Come. Out with it.”

Sulrad knew as soon as word reached him that an under priest had arrived with news, that it was bad. Most Priests would gladly carry news of their success on their own. It was news of failure that they sent with a messenger. His patience was growing thin.

“He is searching for the Wizard Lorit, Father.”

“Searching for the Wizard?” Sulrad sputtered. “What happened to the Wizard that you must search for him? When last I heard, he was securely bound in the crypt of Azerath in Trickby.”

“He is missing, Father. He is no longer in the crypt of Azerath.”

Sulrad could feel the anger well up in him. Along with it came a desire to blast the under priest where he stood, but he fought back the urge. He needed the information the man carried more than he needed an outlet for his anger. He also feared that the under priest would lose control of his bodily functions and leave him with a mess.

He tried to soothe him, to stall off that unfortunate event while he questioned Thrag. “The web of Kalwor-Raden-dan? Surely it wasn’t broken so easily?”

“No Father, it is still in place; that is the difficulty. We can find no trace of him by any magical means. We have been reduced to searching door to door, but Trickby is a large city. Being a port town, they are not as welcoming of the Priests as a smaller city like Bebrook is.

“We have been searching for him for several days now. Father Taiez said it was time to notify you, in the event that you had any advice, or were willing to provide assistance in our quest.”

“Thrag, were you involved in placing the web on the Wizard Lorit?” Sulrad asked in his most soothing voice. “It doesn’t seem like a job for an under priest.”

“No Father, I am not powerful enough to partake in such rituals.”

“But you were a part of the search for the Wizard Lorit?”

“Yes, Father. I am. I go from door to door asking folk if they have seen the Wizard. I can offer no assistance in the magical quest.”

Sulrad tried to remain calm until he concluded his questioning. If Father Taiez were the one standing before him, he would not have to be so restrained. He had a good idea what had happened. He was just confirming his suspicions. “And Father Taiez, is he part of the search?”

“He has been orchestrating the search, Father, but he did say that he was going back to Bebrook soon because he had preparations to make.”

“Thrag? Do you know how to make a fireball?” Sulrad asked. He tried to sound sincere as he held back his anger.

“No Father, I am not so advanced.”

“Well, consider this your first lesson. You know about the four elementals, earth, water, wind and fire?”

“Yes Father, I have learned my lessons.”

Sulrad held out his hand. As he spoke, an orange flame ignited and danced above his palm. “There is another state beyond simple fire. It is called plasma. It is a fire so hot that even earth would be consumed by its heat.”

The flame curled into a ball, the yellow tails licking at one another until it was a solid sphere about the size of his fist. It started to spin faster, and shift color. It took on a blue cast, as tiny purple tongues appeared amidst the yellow. Soon it turned completely violet and was spinning so fast that Sulrad could barely follow the individual flames as they chased around the sphere.

“See this plasma ball? Nothing in nature can stand against one of these.”

“I see, Father,” Thrag said. He was starting to sound shaky again, as if he were about to lose control of his bowels.

“Thrag?” Sulrad asked quietly so that the under priest would have to struggle to hear him.

Thrag leaned forward and turned his head.

“You should have refused Father Taiez when he asked you to come here. You know that, don’t you?”

“Father Taiez said he would kill my family if I refused.” Thrag looked at Sulrad in panic.

“Then you made a wise choice. I will only kill
you
.” Sulrad glanced at the flaming spitting ball in his hand. It jumped up and rushed towards Thrag who barely had time to flinch, before he was transformed into a floating swirl of ash. Sulrad looked down at the carpet. He had been too late.

“I’m going to need a new carpet,” he called to his assistants who sat just outside of his office. “Please, remove this one. It’s soiled.”

“Yes Father,” came the reply.

“Oh, and send word to Vorathorm. I’m going to need his special skills once again. Tell him to come as soon as he is able.”

Free Lorit

Gareb and Chihon placed Lorit on the bed in the guest room where Chihon spent her nights questing for him. His breathing was shallow, his heartbeat weak. Occasionally, he would open his eyes long enough to focus on Chihon for short periods of time. He seemed to recognize her.

“He needs to eat to regain his strength,” Yerlow said as she entered the room with a small pot of rich beef broth and a cup of weak tea. She placed the tray on the table next to Chihon.

“How’s he doing?” Yerlow asked.

“He’s asleep most of the time.” Chihon brushed his hair back stroking it gently. She tilted Lorit’s head and carefully lifted the cup of broth to his lips. He took several sips without opening his eyes before she carefully lowered his head back to the pillow.

“I’m worried,” Chihon said. “I can feel something wrapped about him. It feels like a web of thick ropes. I can feel it when I touch him.”

“I know little of these things,” Yerlow said. “I’m just a seamstress, my husband is the wizard. Has he been able to explain any of this?”

“Gareb is as baffled as I am. He can’t feel the web and doesn’t know what it might be.”

“Have you asked the mighty ones? Have they been any help?”

“I haven’t contacted them since before we found Lorit. I’ll try to get their help tonight. They were not able to sense Lorit while he was in the crypt. I fear they may be of no assistance,” she said. She returned her attention back to Lorit.

That evening, Chihon prepared for contact with Rotiaqua. She was getting more familiar with the feel of the Sorceress’ thread, and was confident that she could reach her successfully. She carefully lit the solitary candle on the table in the room where Lorit lay bound in the mysterious web. She smoothed the table cloth in front of her and quieted her mind. She reached out to touch the sorceress.

The candle flame flared, and then sputtered almost to an ember. It reignited and fanned out to create a small round globe in which the image of the sorceress gradually became clear. She turned to look at Chihon.

“What is it, child?” Rotiaqua asked.

“I’ve found him,” Chihon said. “He was hidden in a crypt, in the cemetery, north of town.”

“Does he live?” she asked. “We’re still unable to sense his presence.”

“He lives, but he’s weak. I need your help. He’s ensnared in something,” she said. “I can feel it enveloping him when I touch him. It keeps him weak and asleep.” She spread her hands out in supplication, “You must help me. I fear he may die if I can’t free him.”

“What does the web feel like to you?” Rotiaqua asked.

“It feels like thick ropes entangle him. I can only feel them vaguely. They form some sort of net encircling his whole body.”

“Does he take nourishment?” the sorceress asked. Her image looked off to the side, not at Chihon.

“Yes, he takes nourishment, but only weak tea and thickened broth.”

“Just a moment,” Rotiaqua said. “Zhimosom has been doing research on this. Let him join us.”

The candle flame flared again and turned into two wavering spheres. In one, the image of the sorceress reappeared, in the other the familiar form of the old wizard revealed itself. He was seated at the table in his study, with a thick book opened before of him.

Zhimosom peered up from his book. “You say it feels like thick ropes enmeshing him?”

“Yes.”

“And you can feel his essence, even through this mesh?”

“Yes, I can.”

“You were able to locate him using your connection?” he asked. He carefully flipped the book open to a new section and smoothed the page out.

“I was,” Chihon answered.

“Interesting,” he said once again, flipping through the book. “Who would cast such a spell?” His fingers drifted and started stroking his long white whiskers.

“I fear it’s more of the temple mischief,” Rotiaqua said. “I fear they recognized him and want to bind him to keep him out of the way of some mischief they’ve planned.

“I also believe that you two are becoming paired.”

“Paired?” Chihon asked.

“We believe that you and Lorit are becoming paired,” Zhimosom explained. “A wizard and a sorceress become paired when they develop a strong empathy and establish a partnership of trust.”

“A pair,” Rotiaqua said, “A wizard and a sorceress feed off one another’s powers, making them both stronger. The wizard’s power is derived from his male essence. It’s wild and strong, and full of destruction and rage. A sorceress’ power is derived from her female essence. It’s formed of affection, nurturing and righteous anger. When combined, their magic is stronger than either can be alone.”

“Sorceresses are rare indeed,” Zhimosom said. “Very few are born, and even fewer awaken. Of those that do, many of them are driven mad by their power before they learn to control it.”

“That is why you two are so special to us,” Rotiaqua explained. “You had the potential to become paired, and now it appears you’re forming that bond. Power is strengthening in both of you. The temple may have recognized Lorit’s power, but they surely didn’t know of the paring, or else they would have taken you, too. They somehow overlooked you altogether, fortunately for you both.”

“You are paired,” Chihon said. It was a statement not a question.

“Yes, child, we are,” she answered. “For many years have we worked at our common causes.”

“Are you married, then?” Chihon asked.

“Married?” Zhimosom looked up from his book as if in shock.

“No child, we’re not married,” Rotiaqua answered with a chuckle. “We share a bond that is closer than man and wife, but different. We share power and empathy and a common goal, nothing more.”