Wizard Pair (Book 3) (20 page)

Rotiaqua scowled but took the man's feet. She lifted them up and backed towards the stairs as the roof caught fire and smoke poured out the door.

They dropped the fake Wizard at the bottom of the stairs and ran as the fire broke through the roof and flames shot into the air.

Recruit

Sulrad recovered slowly from his fight with Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. He kept to the Temple and concentrated his efforts on building up the faithful and influencing the citizens of Frostan. He needed power to find Zhimosom and Rotiaqua, and the only way to do that was to restrict himself to using as little magic as he could.

One day, Sulrad heard rumors of a young Wizard living in Frostan. They said he was a leather worker who had just reached his twentieth summer. It shouldn't be that hard to find him. There were not too many leather workers in town.

Sulrad waited until early afternoon, when business would be slow, and walked the streets of the craftsmen district. Here, coopers carefully crafted their barrels; candle makers boiled the fat from the butchers. The mix of smells was almost overwhelming as he scoured the streets until he found the cobbler's shop.

There was a crude sign hanging over the door, visible from the narrow cobbled street. It sat next to the tannery and shared the same foul odor with it.

The cobbler was a strong young man with short sandy brown hair and brown eyes. He sat behind a shoe held together with wooden clamps. He carefully tapped nail after nail into the sole to secure it before pausing to look up.

Veran's eyes widened when he saw Sulrad standing in the doorway. Sulrad had gotten used to the stares wherever he went. He barely noticed it any longer.

"Can I help you?" Veran asked.

Sulrad leaned against the door post. He reached out with his magic to see if he could sense the man's power. It was weak and shielded, but it was unmistakable.

Sulrad didn't answer the question; rather, he just pushed a compulsion on the man. He felt Veran resist it.

"So it's true, then," Sulrad said.

"What's true?" Veran stood, still grasping his hammer, and started towards Sulrad.

"That you're a Wizard." Sulrad stood his ground.

"Wizard?" Veran took a step closer and raised the hammer. "I think you'd best be along now. I don't need your type of trouble here."

Sulrad pressed the compulsion spell even harder. Veran faltered, slowing as he came, and then he froze in mid stride.

Sulrad smiled. The compulsion had taken hold. He probed for shields. Sure enough, they were there. They were crude, but effective. That must be how the man had kept himself hidden for so long.

No matter, he was caught now and Sulrad would soon have him on the altar.

"Stand there." Sulrad pointed to the corner.

Veran lowered the hammer and let it fall from his grip. He stood still where he was. Sulrad felt him struggle against the spell, but it did him no good.

Sulrad sat down at the workbench. He searched the drawers until he found a small piece of parchment and a quill and ink. The ink was almost dry, so he spit in it and stirred it with the quill.

To Baron Rieck.

The Cobbler Veran has accepted a position in the Temple as one of my trainees. As our agreement states, I have taken possession of his cobbler shop, but have no interest in operating it. I ask that you find some deserving craftsman and convey the property to him.

Sulrad signed it with a flourish and blew on the ink. He found a small cache of sand and sprinkled some on the parchment.

Sulrad stepped outside the cobbler shop and saw a boy of about ten summers in age.

"Boy. Come here."

"Sire?"

"Do you know the way to the castle?" Sulrad asked.

"Yes."

Sulrad handed the boy the parchment. "Please take this to the castle for me. When the Guards ask what you're doing, tell them you have a message for the purser."

The boy stood there, looking at him.

"You know what a purser is?"

"Yes, Sire."

"What are you waiting for?" Sulrad wanted to get the cobbler back to the Temple, but he had to make arrangements for the cobbler shop. He couldn't just abandon it.

Sulrad looked at the boy. He wore threadbare homespun clothes and nothing on his feet.

Sulrad reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of coppers. He handed them to the boy. "Run along now."

"Right away, Sire."

The boy ran off down the street and Sulrad returned to the shop. He smiled as he motioned to Veran. "We're going to have such fun, you and I. Come with me."

Veran turned and followed Sulrad down the shadowy alleyways and streets that took them back to the Temple.

The days of torture had not been gentle to Veran. He was gaunt and thin, and his hair had fallen out in clumps. His face was red and blotched with bruises. Sulrad had spent every day and much of each night with the cobbler for the last five days. He wanted to expose Veran's power before he attempted to take it from the man. He usually calmed his victims so that they relaxed before the sacrifice, but Veran was different; he had shields.

"Where did you learn shields?" Sulrad passed his staff over Veran, watching him tense up at the pain as it traveled along the man's body. Sulrad moved the staff back and forth from head to toe in a smooth motion. He was tempted to dwell in one spot more than others, but he resisted. He felt Veran fight back, strengthening his shields even as Sulrad poured the pain into him.

Veran remained silent. He clenched his teeth as the staff passed over him, but he didn't cry out.

Sulrad saw the man was starting to fade. He might very well die from the torture before Sulrad could break his shields. That would be a waste.

Sulrad relented, leaving Veran tied to the altar. He had removed the compulsion spell earlier and secured the cobbler with stout ropes instead. Sulrad sat and pondered his next move. He probed Veran, finding the shields still in place and as strong as ever. Clearly, this was not the right approach.

Sulrad needed a little more power to defeat the shields. He knew he was close; Veran was about to break ... or die.

"Don't go anywhere." Sulrad looked into Veran's bloodshot eyes and laughed. "I'll be right back. I have something in mind to help with your shields."

Veran just stared at him through tortured eyes.

Sulrad fetched a mini dragon that he'd received from one of the wealthy merchants in return for assuring that the man's firstborn would be a boy. The animal was in bad shape, having been caged for weeks, but its magic was still intact.

Veran's eyes widened when he saw the mini dragon. His brow furrowed and his breathing quickened. He followed it as Sulrad brought the mini dragon to the altar where he trussed it up next to Veran. "This is a mini dragon. It is a creature of magic that is going to give its life to me. I will take its power and use it to break your shields."

Sulrad stepped back. Why was the cobbler so interested in the mini dragon? "You recognize this?"

Veran nodded ever so slightly.

"You want this?"

Sulrad saw the excitement on Veran's face. The cobbler wanted the magic of the mini dragon. He wasn't the innocent that Sulrad had thought he was.

Sulrad raised his staff and pushed the spell on Veran once more. The cobbler tensed up in pain as the staff passed from head to toe. Sulrad thought Veran was going to snap, he strained so hard, but then he relaxed. Veran lay still on the altar. His breathing calmed.

"More?" Sulrad asked as he passed the staff over the cobbler once again. This time there was no reaction. Veran should be screaming out in agony, but he was relaxed as if he were lying on the grass on a sunny summer afternoon. Sulrad probed him. The shields were still in place, but this time there was an opening that Sulrad could pass. It was custom made for him.

He cautiously probed the opening in the man's shield, careful of any treachery that might be at work.

"I submit myself to you," came the thought from Veran.

Sulrad stepped back in surprise. He passed the staff over Veran once more to no avail. The man was in pain, a great deal of pain, but he seemed able to ignore it ... no, not ignore it ... embrace it?

Sulrad felt Veran embrace the pain, internalize it, make it a part of himself. He heard the voice once more. "I submit."

Sulrad looked down at Veran's face. A slight smile touched his calm lips.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Sulrad asked.

"Take my magic. I give it to you freely. No reservations."

Sulrad grasped Veran's magic. He separated it from the man and drew it towards himself, but something made him pause. This man accepted him as the master. He had power, strong power. He would make a good Priest, just what Sulrad needed to help run the Temple.

Sulrad released Veran's power. He drew the mini dragon close. The sunbeam was almost upon the statue. It was time.

He calmed the animal, soothing it with gentle strokes. It relaxed under his touch.

As the sunbeam struck the statue, Sulrad slid the sacrificial knife from its holder. He deftly slashed the creature's throat. He leaned down to Veran. "Feel that?"

Veran's smile broadened.

"Take it into yourself. Make it your own. Harvest the magic."

Veran drew the magic from the mini dragon and took it into himself. The cloud of sparks swirled around and Veran arched his back. The power settled into him, and Veran screamed. Not a scream of pain, but one of joy, of pure elation.

Sulrad slashed the bonds that held the cobbler to the altar. "Welcome to the Priesthood."

Several days later, when Veran had recovered from his ordeal, Sulrad invited him to his study. Veran looked like a true Priest now. His black robes were trimmed with silver and the bruises on his face had faded to a dark yellow.

"You understand our mission, then?"

"To help the faithful, heal the sick, and tend to the flock." Veran smiled. "Just like back on the farm, shear the sheep, and send them off so they can run and frolic until the next time we bring them in and shear them." He shrugged his shoulders. "And occasionally we butcher one to satisfy our hunger."

Sulrad leaned towards the new Priest and lowered his voice. "Let's keep that to the inner circle, shall we?" He sat back and studied Veran's reaction. The man was suitably embarrassed. Good. No need to remind him, then.

"Tonight I would like you to take over the evening prayers," Sulrad said. "I will teach you the spell. It is a subtle one that simply encourages wellbeing towards the Temple and an inclination to fear crossing us. It helps build faithfulness in our adherents while keeping the undesirables away."

Veran nodded
.
"There is another Wizard that we may want to recruit or harvest."

"Another Wizard?" Sulrad's heart leaped. "Where?"

"A boy. His name is Dran, the son of a merchant named Burl. He comes here every new moon and sells cloth. They will be by in a few days. He knows me. I can get the boy away from the family."

"And what would you do then?"

"Take his magic."

"For your own?" Sulrad raised an eyebrow. Was Veran thinking of keeping the power?

"For us. We can both share in his power, can we not?"

"We can." Sulrad smiled. He was growing to like his new under Priest.

"You have my blessing. With a Wizard, there is much more power than a mini dragon. You have to earn the boy's magic. Make him believe in you. Make him yield to you. Then you take his magic. It helps the transfer."

At the new moon, Veran and Sulrad met the merchant at his camp to see about the boy. The man admitted that his son had experienced dreams of fire and on one occasion had set his tent aflame in his sleep. He was worried about Dran and seemed relieved when Sulrad explained that he wanted to train the boy.

"The Temple trains young Wizards very thoroughly," Sulrad said. "They learn their lessons here, but when they are sufficiently advanced, they move from town to town so that they can learn the plight of the common man everywhere. They rarely return to their home after they are trained."

"You hear that, Dran?" Burl grasped the boy by the back of his neck. He leaned in and touched his forehead to Dran's. "They will teach you magic. You will be a healer. You will do great good."

"Yes, father." The boy sniffed back tears.

"Don't cry, son. This is a good thing. This man will take good care of you."

"Yes, father."

Burl patted the boy on the head. He turned him to face Veran and gave him a gentle shove. "Go on. Off with you."

Sulrad turned to Burl. "We will take good care of him. Today he has made you proud. You have a good son."

"Thank you." Burl bowed his head.

When they returned to the Temple, Sulrad prepared the altar for Veran. He cleaned the blood off the surface, sharpened the knife, and replaced the candles. He signaled the Guard to bring the boy.

Dran wore a black robe of the Priesthood, and his head was shaved.

"Come right on in." Sulrad motioned him into the room. "Hop up here." Sulrad patted the altar. Clean and shiny, it no longer looked like a gruesome sacrificial altar.

Dran jumped up and swung his legs, knocking them into the altar.

"Relax," Sulrad said. "We're going to teach you about magic." He rubbed the boy's back and placed his free hand over Dran's heart.

"Lie back now. It helps you learn."

Dran looked up at him hesitantly, but complied. He lay back on the altar.

"That's a good boy. Just relax." He nodded to Veran who stood ready with the rope.

Veran grabbed Dran's hands and bound them to the altar. He quickly ran to his feet and did the same.

"What are you doing?" Dran screamed.

"This is all a part of your training." Veran reached out and rubbed the boy's arm, trying to soothe him. He leaned over the boy and looked directly into eyes full of fear. "Ready?"