A Wizard's Tears Read online

  The mages of Emorthos were an arrogant bunch. Imbued with their power, many of them scorned the other humans that rejected the call of the magick. Although the protectors of villages and towns, many of the common folk despised them for what the mages had become.

  “Father, I want to become a mage.” Keldoran’s father choked on his tankard of ale, spewing it out across the air in a watery jet that ended up as a frightening stain on his woollen tunic. “What?” he bellowed at his son.

  “You heard me,” said Keldoran, slightly annoyed by his father’s reaction. “I’m fed up being a farmer’s son.”

  “And just what is wrong with being a farmer’s son?” argued his father hotly. “It has been that way for generations in our family! We live a peaceful but rewarding life. The food you eat, we grew. Those muscles on your shoulders, they came from the hard work in the fields. You would throw that honest life away for the tricks and deceit of the mages?”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, father,” said Keldoran, trying not to raise his voice, hiding his bitterness well. “I know we have farmed for generations. I appreciate all you have taught me. It’s just, well, I need a change. I don’t want to live the rest of my days as a farmer. I want to see the world, make something more out of my life.”

  “No, Keldoran!” barked his father. “I will not allow it. I don’t want you to join the mages. You’ve seen the way they walk around the village, as if they own it! Pompous freaks!”

  “You know I’m not like that, father. You’ve taught me well. How will becoming a mage make me pompous?”

  “They play with your mind,” he tapped his forehead with his finger to emphasise the point. “Before long, you won’t be the same person! You’ll be one of them. One o’ the ‘robes. My own son, one o’ the ‘robes!”

  Now Keldoran was angry. His face flushed red, his heart raced. “I don’t know how you can be so stuck in your ways!” His voice was loud now, filled with frustration. “The mages protect us. They put their lives at risk for us. Just because you can’t read and do what they do, you take it personally.”

  “Shut up!” his father rose to his feet angrily. “I’ll not take that from you, my own son! Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? The mages don’t help us. They do it just to get a bit more power, a bit more respect from us, poor defenceless peasants!” he spat out the last word with heavy sarcasm. “I forbid it Keldoran. I expect to see you tomorrow with no more talk on becoming a mage. You are a farmer’s son, and a farmer you will be!”

  His father turned and stormed away. Keldoran heard the door slam behind him.

  Sighing, Keldoran dwelt on his father’s words. He knew it was going to be upsetting for his father, the fact that he wanted to leave the farm, but he had not expected such an outburst. It was true some of the mages appeared arrogant, but he knew he wasn’t like that. He would be a good mage; one that talked to the people, listened to their wishes.

  The magick was calling to him. He could no longer be a farmer, not even if he tried. His heart was lost to the magick he could see everyday. It had been a dream for a few years, but now, as he reached his mid-twenties, he was close to the age when he could travel to Malana and become part of the guild of magicians there.

  Keldoran rose from his seat, and stepped outside of his home. He looked across at the fields of the farmland, and heard the bleating of the animals. It had been all he had known. All his life he had lived here, in this tiny village. He had heard tales of the great golden city of Malana, the tall spires, the cathedral, one of the great wonders of the world! He felt an irresistible pull to visit it, see something of the world before he got too old. If he stayed here, even for another year, he would end up being the farmer his father clearly wanted him to be.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  “Keldoran, have you upset your father?”

  It was his mother’s voice, and Keldoran turned from the view to face her. She had been out visiting her friend, and had just come back in. He had not heard her.

  “He’s locked himself away in that room of his. Sometimes, he can get such a mood on!” His mother smiled at her son, shaking her head in bemusement.

  Keldoran smiled back. “Yes, it’s me this time”.

  His mother was a lot easier to talk to. She understood his quirks, his feelings for the magick. In her youth, she had been a witch. “Care to talk, son?”

  Keldoran nodded, and his mother led him inside to the kitchen. There she opened a cupboard, got out a loaf of bread, and started cutting it into slices with a large knife. “Care for some bread and cheese?” she asked her son, who nodded gladly.

  She fixed him some food, poured out some water from a jug, and sat down with him at the kitchen table. It was a huge oak table, carved by his father.

  “So, Keldoran,” said his mother, “what is it this time? The call of the magick is depressing him, yes?”

  Keldoran nodded. “Yes. I told him I wanted to be a mage.”

  “Ah. So you have finally accepted the force burning within you.”

  “Yes!” said Keldoran excitedly. “It’s been there, for years. Deep down, I have always wanted to be a mage.”

  “You have a lot of me within you, Keldoran,” said his mother in satisfaction. “Your father, although he shies away from the magick of this world, knows this to be true as well. He will not stop you from going.”

  “He has forbidden me to go already,” stated Keldoran glumly.

  “Ah, he does not mean it. Now, at this point in time, he means it. He wanted you to follow in his footsteps, to prove to the world that we didn’t need the magick to survive and live a normal life. In a way, he’s done this already.”

  Keldoran took a bite out of his bread, and chewed on it thoughtfully. His mother drank some water, eyeing him curiously. “Keldoran, your father doesn’t hate the magick. He hates what the mages are doing: creating an orderly, strict society. It’s this that he doesn’t like. For once, I am in complete agreement with him.”

  “You are?” said Keldoran in surprise. “Does this mean you don’t want me to leave either?”

  “Keldoran, you will do what you must. I will be proud of you if you become a mage. I will be overwhelmed with joy if you become the best mage. The mage that doesn’t judge, doesn’t play by strict laws and rules, and listens to the world and its people. This is the mage I want you to be.”

  “That’s the mage I want to be!” declared her son passionately.

  She smiled. “Then you have my blessing, son. I will talk to your father. He cannot deny the magick surrounding this family. He can feel it, just as you and I can.”

  “What did he say, after you had married, and you told him you used to be a witch?”

  She laughed at the question, her voice musical to Keldoran’s ears. “Let me just say that was the night you were conceived!” she giggled in delight at the memory. “At first he didn’t understand what it meant to be a witch. Once I explained things to him, calmed him down, he was fine with it.”

  Keldoran finished his bread and cheese. His mother leant forward, and kissed him lightly on his temple. “I sense something great within you, Keldoran. It is your calling, to be a mage. I think you will be a very good one!”

  Keldoran hugged his mother, glad of her words. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Witches were classed higher in rank than commoners, and even monks. It was the power they possessed. Magick held all power on the world of Elrohen. As well as simple spells of protection, seeing and transformation, witches could summon animals, control the four elements and conjure illusions to trick or delight. Keldoran’s mother had been a great witch, one of the most creative at spells and magick. Yet she had met Keldoran’s father, and had decided to retire from the spell world, to live in nature and harmony.

  In a way, this was a greater power.

  How little she knew about the world, thought Keldoran’s mother. She watched the sun set over the farm, its orange light caressing the fields with a warm, delightful glow.
She had sent Keldoran to bed, to rest. Tomorrow, she would confront his father, and watch her son take the journey to Malana shortly thereafter. His time had come.

  She loved this time of night. Dusk. The sun bathing all in a loving glow, bobbing low over the horizon. This, indeed, was a time of great magick. She waited expectantly for the faeries to arrive.

  They were always difficult to see, unless you knew where to look. She smiled then, grateful in her own knowledge. So many people would miss such beauty. Such a shame, she thought. Faeries made you feel alive!

  Barefoot, she walked out onto the grass. Bending down, she picked up a blade in her fingers, and blew it away with her soft breath. As the wind picked it up and sent it merrily on its way, several small winged beings leapt away from it, darting in front of her twinkling eyes. Giggling, she smiled at them, and they seemed almost to wave at her, before flying high into the sky, their wings whisking them to higher places.

  “Keldoran, you will soon know much,” she whispered to herself. “It is an exciting time for you, my son.”

  She watched as the sun set. The warmth faded, replaced by the excitement of night. Stars appeared in the sky, and a white light from the three moons covered all in a wash of majestic beauty. Humming to herself, she walked through the field, laughing at the faeries that scattered before her like dandelion seeds. They flew around her, buzzing in euphoria. They always appeared so happy. She smiled at them, enveloping herself in their magick.

  It coursed through her body. She held her arms aloft, as if to touch one of the moons in her outstretched hands. The magick of the land rose with her, filling her with strength and warmth. She would cast a spell, she thought, one for Keldoran. A seeing spell that looked towards his future, and blessed it.

  That night, Keldoran slept very soundly indeed.

  3. Youthful Dream The weeks drifted by at their usual pace, although to Keldoran it seemed that each day was getting longer and longer. He became impatient, counting down the hours, mentally crossing them off in his mind. Finally, after what appeared to be an age for Keldoran, the day he had been waiting for arrived.

  A mage was coming to the village to find apprentices. Leaping out of bed, Keldoran’s heart raced. At long last he was leaving the farm; going on the adventure of his life. He was bored here. Although he quite often enjoyed the physical labour, the idyllic nature of the countryside, something inside of him wanted to fly – to see more of the world and become one with its magicks. Elrohen was calling to him, opening its vast lands and oceans to him. It was his time.

  That morning, there was an uncomfortable silence around the breakfast table. His mother had talked to his father, who, as the weeks went by, grudgingly began to accept that his little boy was becoming a man, and as such, had his own mind to do whatever he chose. Now the day had come, he frowned across the table at his son, not sure what to say. Part of him had not wanted his son to leave, yet part of him could accept his son’s wishes and admire those youthful dreams that were his to make true.

  Breakfast was eaten. Dishes were cleaned and dried. Keldoran’s mother embraced her son fondly, kissing him on the cheek. “Blessed be, Keldoran,” she said simply.

  Keldoran rose from the table, and returned his mother’s embrace. “I’ll return one day, Mother. As a mage, and with the wisdom mages possess.”

  His mother grinned, and winked at him.

  Keldoran walked around the table to his father, who had not said a word. Offering his hand, Keldoran waited for his father to shake it goodbye. Surprised was an understatement, when his father stood and engulfed him in a fierce bear like hug.

  “I shall miss you, son,” he said. “Not just for your hard work in the farm, but as a companion. We had many good conversations. I know I wanted you to be a farmer, to follow in your family’s traditions, but I see now how silly that is. You have a strange force about you, Keldoran, as if there is something, some entity, calling to you. I may not understand it, part of me gets damn right angry about it, but I know that through it you will bring about some great event. I just know it. You are strong willed indeed. You have my blessing.”

  Keldoran hugged his father gratefully. “Thank you,” was all he could think of to say; it seemed to be enough right now.

  Behind the two of them, his mother grinned impishly. She nodded her head knowingly.

  Before he left for the centre of the village, Keldoran took one last walk around the farm, his home for all his life. It was a beautiful day, the sun high in the sky, showering him with warmth. He walked around the house, smiling to himself. As exciting as today was, there was also a sad part. There was an ending, today. His home, his whole life, would be changed. This stone house was a part of him; he knew every crack and nook. The air, the familiar scent of his mother’s cooking, all that would soon vanish. The noises of the animals, the chirping of the birds, all of these would disappear from his view.

  So, Keldoran walked, and savoured each step, each moment left with his old life. He would remember this place, fondly, forever. Perhaps one day he would draw the image of it onto paper, to cherish. He would return here, one day, and he expected that nothing would change. His parents would still be here, hugging each other in the doorway of the cottage. The animals would still chatter away to themselves. The sun, even, would still sit high in the sky, bathing all in its warm glow. It was peaceful here.

  Keldoran said his goodbyes, turned, and walked away from the cottage, carrying a few minor possessions in a small woollen bag his mother had made for him, and the clothes on his back.

  Where he was going, he would collect robes. Demorbaln was a small village, quiet and harmless in the countryside. A place to retire, maybe. A place to raise a family, to live a peaceful and happy existence. Yet to Yvanna, the village gave her bad memories, and she could not wait to escape from it.

  Several moons ago, her mother had died here, from an unknown virus. Her father had broken down, collapsed with grief, and had become paralysed, leaving her to care for him. As the months wore on, her father finally retained the use of his limbs, and had met another woman. This gave her the chance she needed to get out. Everywhere she turned in the village she was reminded of her mother. The flowers she used to tend to, people offering condolences, the smell of her favourite drink. No more!

  Yvanna hastily packed her bags, three of them, enough bits of luggage for a trip around Elrohen and back. She would look a mess on the road to Malana, and she did not want to look a mess when she entered the fabled city of gold. There would undoubtedly be many suitors there that would whisk her away to a happy, enchanted world. She would look her best for them. So, in went oils, lotions, soaps and perfumes.

  What better way to meet such men than as a mage? The idea pleased Yvanna. She could also learn those spells that would make her look younger, more beautiful than ever, to put a shine of lustrous body to her hair. She would seduce and beguile, until she found the man rich enough and worthy enough to hold her in his arms.

  Goodbye village, she thought to herself. You have done me no favours, and in return I will do you none. Relb stood in the market of Demorbaln, the heart of the village, and waited for the mage to arrive, the mage that would take him away from the place of his birth.

  It was definitely the time for him to leave. Thought stupid and useless by the villagers, by his old friends (as he used to call them), it was time to prove them wrong, and make a name for himself. A mage! Oh, to be a mage! That would shut them all up, would it not? How far had they gone in a career? Farmers, locksmiths and carpenters, they were. Ha! A mage, now that was something. One day he would come back and just rub it in their faces. Maybe turn one or two into flea-ridden dogs. Yes, that had a good revenge value!

  Chuckling softly to himself, Relb adjusted his cap, a crazy looking, brown leather thing, and waited patiently for his new life.

  Keldoran entered Demorbaln’s market. He had never seen so much hubbub! He rarely ventured out of the farm, especially not down here. He grinned. So this was th
e beginning of his new life. Lots of people chattering inanely to one another, with excited looks and jeers. Already his blood was beginning to surge inside in mounting excitement.

  They have all come out, he thought, to see the mages. Of course, it was obvious. The quiet village must always get into this fervour and tumult when the mages appear.

  Keldoran was excited to be meeting a mage. He had never spoken to one before. He had seen them, before, admired their quiet, knowing looks. His dream had started since he was a mere child, watching these towering men of magick. He held them in awe. Such power to harness inside of them, such responsibility.

  He wandered through the gathering crowd, to the nearby road. The road led to Malana, the city of gold. He had never left the village, and had only read of the city. It sounded an amazing place to him. Keldoran felt like dancing at the side of the road, he was so excited by his thoughts!

  He glanced over at the other people waiting by the roadside, for he was not alone. His eyes widened in a quick sliver of fear, as he saw a horned humanoid not ten paces from him! He had never seen any of these people before, although his mother had told him about the other races sharing Elrohen with humans. This then, was his first sighting of a Bu’kep.

  He looked magnificent, resplendent in a bright green tunic. His skin was white, just like his own, but a small horn extended from his temple, red in colour. It was an odd looking thing, and Keldoran could not take his eyes off it. The man could sense he was being watched, and turned to regard Keldoran. Quickly, Keldoran averted his gaze, but not before the Bu’kep gave him a beaming smile, showing his white teeth.

  Embarrassed, Keldoran turned and looked to his right, where his eyes rested upon a petite, blonde girl. She was surrounded by three huge backpacks. It was a comical sight, for they were as big as she was. Keldoran already marvelled at this weird and wonderful world, with all these incredible people, and seemed so far away from his farm even though he was still in the village.