The Adventures of Solo Jones: Genesis

Chapter 1, My Apprenticeship

We were fools.

We had travelled together for a few months, in the spring and summer of that year. I was nineteen, and I was next to the oldest.

In my homeland I had trained as a warrior, using the staff; it was our traditional weapon, and I am proud to say I was quite good with it. I joined with Kras Dolan, a spearman, Fresia the Nimble, an acrobat and sometimes thief, and her lover Sol Avar the sorceror. Together we traveled throughout the land now known as Spain, from the ice fields to the strait, and then across to the grasslands you now know as the Sahara Desert.

We fought highwaymen and collected the bounties; sometimes we found monstrous creatures to battle, like the Ape-Men or the Little People. They were not the elves or leprechauns you are thinking of, but more like modern-day Pygmys, endowed with magical powers.

Often we had heard of the evil wizard whose zombie army controlled a small kingdom in the northeast part of Africa, and one day Kras said "We can defeat him." So we headed east along the coast. We were fools.

No sooner than we had stepped into the courtyard of his dilapidated fortress, but we were beset by zombies from all sides. They drove us into the keep proper, where it was dark and gloomy, as the windows were all covered. Though badly abused we began to get the better of them, and Sol even said "Look, they flee before us!"

Those were his last words. I tripped over a zombie Kras had dismembered, so the bolt of eldritch power missed me; but the others were not so lucky. I stood up, and found myself face to face with a horrid, withered sorceror. I could feel his icy breath from five feet away...

I ran, in abject terror. What man wouldn't, if he had not steeled himself for the experience? In my panic I chose a door we had not explored, and found myself descending. Soon I was lost in the caverns below the keep.

He pursued me for what seemed like days; in fact it may have been, for I drained my waterskin, refilled it and quenched my thirst at an underground stream, and drained it again before he caught me.

I had run down a blind alley, and before I had time to backtrack he was there. I had by then prepared myself to stand my ground, and fight like a trapped rat, but he raised his hand and spoke an arcane word, and I fell in a heap.

Three zombies came forward; one stripped my gear from me, and the the other two lifted my tingling body to a kneeling position. With another pass the monstrous wizard removed the spell, removing the paralysis.

"You are cunning and crafty," he said in a voice like dry leaves crackling. "Smarter by far than any of the other fools who have tried to best me. I will make you an offer, my friend: call me your master and become my apprentice, and I will give you power beyond your dreams. If you decline, know that I will make your death far more painful than that of your friends, here."

It was then that I realized the three zombies were the animated corpses of Kras, Fresia, and Sol. I cracked.

"You are my master, O great wizard."

"My name is Gruven Ket, but you will always call me Master." The zombies (I never think of them with the names they had in life) lifted me to a standing position, and I followed my new master meekly out of the caverns.

Ket never called me by my name; he never asked it. I was always "apprentice" except sometimes when he rebuked me, calling me "slave." I was given responsibility for the captives he kept in the dungeon, most of whom had been there many months and had thus lost their minds. The villages nearby gave tribute, in gold and in food, in return for safety from Ket's undead army; handling the food became my responsibility.

Much of my time was spent in study and practice; Ket had many projects occupying his time, and so he spent only two or three days in ten at most training me. Still, I learned steadily, for I had nothing else that I cared to do, and I could not leave. I passed four years in this manner.

Though I could not leave the keep, I was allowed access to the caverns. From time to time when the proximity of my master became too much to bear, I would wander about them for a day or so. It was on one such trip that I found a narrow, hidden passage, at the other end of which I saw sky. I determined that it opened just outside the outer wall of the keep, near the bluff overlooking the sea.

One day in the chill of winter my master called me to his study, for training I assumed; but he wished for the first time to discuss something with me. "In three days hence is the day of sacrifice, when I must give to the demon-lord who must not be named a virgin sacrifice. Here," he said, waving a hand at the door behind me. As I turned to look I saw a young woman, her hands bound behind her, gagged, and held by two zombies. Ket rose and approached her, causing her to writhe and struggle to no avail. With one icy claw he ripped her dress from top to bottom, and the zombies tore off what remained.

She was beautiful, of course, and terrified, her eyes like those of a trapped deer. "You will care for her, apprentice; see to it that she is still a virgin when I slay her on the altar." With that, he waved in dismissal and turned away.

I led the zombies, who by now were carrying her, down to the dungeon. I gave her a cell that had not been used in a while, and sent a zombie to bring fresh straw. After posting guards at the door I removed her bonds.

First she struck at me, but she was weak with fear and exhaustion and so did me no harm. I put my arms around her and held her tight until she stopped struggling and began to cry. After a time she moved away and I told her I would return soon with food and water.

When I returned, some hours later, I brought food and water for her consumption as well as a bowl of water for washing in. She watched me like a mouse watches a hawk, but she did eat and she did wash. Finally she spoke.

"My name is Mara. Have you a name, apprentice?"

"I am called Solomoriah, but not by my master, who does not know my name." I smiled at this, my first smile in many years.

She stood then, and approached me slowly. "I would do anything, Solomoriah, to escape the fate your master plans for me." She spread her arms slowly, a gesture of offering, and I would be no man if I didn't admit I was tempted. My master's warning rang in my ears still, though, and I refused her. I left quickly, before I could change my mind.

It was nearly daybreak then, and like my master I slept in the daytime; but I did not sleep that day, for in my mind I could see Mara bound to that altar Ket spoke of. I had seen it many times, even seen the bloodstains, but I had not allowed myself to think about its use before. Now I could think of nothing else.

The next night I did my best to avoid my master, and he seemed content to ignore me. I planned and plotted a thousand escapes before I settled on one.

As I have said, Ket's keep stood on a bluff overlooking the sea. The land above the bluff was flat and devoid of trees for a long distance, and I knew that zombies were "planted," half-buried, throughout that area as traps. The bluff, though... Ket's zombies had to be kept away from salt, lest he lose control of them, so the salty sands below never saw a zombie footprint. My master himself could not bear the daylight very long. We would flee, then, through the hidden tunnel to the outside and quickly over the bluff. If we did so at dawn Ket could not follow us, and I believed we would be safe.

As dawn was about to break I put on my gear and went to Mara, carrying some of my extra clothes to cover her against the cold. Though they fit her poorly she said they would do; for by now she realized I meant to save her.

As I led her from her cell I saw zombie guards massed at one end of the line of cells. I boldly approached them, ordering them away, but they did not obey me this time. With a cold chill I realized that Ket knew of my treason.

I ran back to Mara, throwing open all the cells (which were merely barred) as I went. The other slaves, particularly those with more aggressive forms of madness, ran out into the corridor and grappled with the zombies. I heard Ket calling to me but his words were unintelligible.

Both ends of the cellblock had entrances, and though it was a longer distance the other way it was our only choice. Mara, for her part, was tougher than I gave her credit for, and never fell behind. We narrowly missed being caught by zombies; fortunately they are slow and stupid opponents.

We reached the opening at last, and I put Mara through first, then followed her. The sky was clear and bright, and I felt confident.

I was a fool.

I started down the bluff first. The handholds and toeholds were quite good, and I could see a ledge only five yards or so below where we could rest out of sight of the fortress. I turned to Mara to help her down just as a bolt of scarlet fire burned through her abdomen. She toppled, lifeless, falling on me and nearly bearing me to my own doom.

I was right that the zombies would not follow me onto the beach, so I buried her there under sand and a cairn of large stones. I wept, and as I wept I realized I had never wept for my lost friends.

It was a long, cold day as I fled along the seaside, putting as many miles between myself and my former master as I could. I don't know if he let me escape or if I really got away on my own; but I spent the next several years on the run. I freely used my name, certain he did not know it, and I became more powerful in the ways of magic. As with my friends years before I fought the unjust and evil, and lived on the proceeds.


Chapter 2, The Madman and the King

I fought many battles in that time, but two in particular are important, as they led to important increases in my capabilities. Specifically, from each I acquired a ring of mystic power.

The first such was, in fact, my first battle after leaving Ket's service. I was told, in a small town on the eastern coast of Africa, about a wild and dangerous creature known simply as the Madman. He attacked farms, killing all he found using his clawed hands.

I spoke with a warrior named Gar who had been one of a group sent to kill the Madman; only Gar returned. He described the Madman as short and wizened, but very strong and fast. Perhaps the most horrific thing about the Madman was the fact that any wound inflicted on him healed very quickly.

I prepared my spells, and the next morning I left in search of the Madman. He was said to attack only by night, so I assumed he slept by day. The townspeople advanced many theories about where he might be found, but based on the pattern of his attacks I deduced that he lived in the farm house where he performed his first murders. I was right.

At first it seemed no battle; I became invisible, and crept into the house. He was asleep on the floor, sleeping beside a perfectly serviceable bed. Had I not been trained as a necromancer the human body parts strewn about the two-room shack would have made me retch, or weep, or both. It was obvious that he was a cannibal.

Before he had time to awaken I cast a Paralysis spell on him. I had expected to thus make him helpless, and then to drag him back to town.

To my surprise, as soon as I spoke he leapt to his feet and charged at me. The Paralysis spell seemed only to slow him, and he shook like a wet dog to rid himself of it.

I didn't have time to cast a spell; so I raised my staff and fought. Round and round the small room we went; I nearly slipped on a puddle of blood, and he came at me at that sign of weakness. I struck forward with my staff, catching him in the forehead, and he reeled backward into the wall.

Several more times we feinted and parried like that, and then I saw an opening and struck with the tip of my staff into his chest. It caved in with a sickening sound, and he fell backward.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I took a step back. Why I stepped away from a downed foe I don't know, but it saved me... for as I watched his collapsed chest rose back into place, and he lifted his head slowly to show me an evil grin.

As he charged again I was prepared for him, and with a word I released a powerful spell of Sleep on him. He fought it, tried to shake it off, but I had prepared another just like it, and I used it.

I bound him with all the rope and cloth I could find. This gave me time to study him, and a simple spell of Mystic Vision revealed that he wore a magic ring. This, it turned out, was the source of his rapid healing: a Ring of Regeneration.

I took it from him, put it on, and then, as he was helpless, I dragged him back to the town. By then the spells had passed, and he was gibbering and screaming. The chieftain pronounced sentence on him quickly, and the next day they hung him. Perhaps in these latter days, he would be committed to an institution instead, but in those days that's how it was done. I accepted my payment and moved on.

The second ring came from a corrupt king of a seaside nation at the southern tip of Africa. I have by now forgotten the name of the nation, but the king was named Elmarin.

I did not intend to slay him; his nation was too powerful, and I was just one man. I was, in fact, just passing through.

As I walked down a street in a merchant district, I heard a cry of pain from down a narrow alley. There I saw two scruffy-looking men wrestling with a young boy. Ordinarily I would not pay much attention to such things (as children often overact to draw sympathetic attention), but this boy was much better dressed and cleaner than his opponents.

I stepped into the end of the alleyway and said, "What are you doing with that boy?" In answer, one of them turned and charged at me, brandishing a dagger. I stopped him with a Paralysis spell, and he fell on the dagger. By the time I turned him over I could see he was dead.

The other assailant released his young captive, and said "You're in big trouble, friend. Tigris will have your hide for interfering with his pleasure."

Now, I had heard of this Tigris. He was the mage-in-residence at Elmarin's castle, and had created (I was told) many powerful enchantments to protect the castle. I had also heard that he had unsavory appetites, but I really hadn't wanted to know any more.

So be it. "My friend, you will take me to this Tigris," I said, and then with three words and a gesture I compelled him to obey.

I am no great master of illusion, and I know it, so I chose a simple one: I impersonated the other thug. I instructed the thug under my control, whose name I have since forgotten, to take me to Tigris and to do all the talking, allowing me to avoid giving myself away.

We entered the palace of Elmarin by the rear entrance, as servants do. My guide spoke to some of the people we met, but I just grunted, feigning a cold. Presently we entered the private chambers of Tigris.

"I thought I sent you for a boy! Have you failed me, then?" yelled the tall, dark-skinned mage. He wore a light robe such as rich men wore when resting at home.

The thug began to sputter, unable to think clearly under the control of the Domination spell. I waved my hand at Tigris, saying a single word, and released a Paralysis spell.

Tigris was made of sterner stuff than the thug, though, and I could see he was going to resist the spell, so I quickly followed with a spell of Lightning. The bolt turned out not to be fatal to him, but he was made unconscious. I cast Sleep upon the thug, who was showing signs of overcoming the Domination; then I bound and gagged them both, and went to work looking for Tigris' spell books.

I had just found them, hidden under his huge bed, when I heard a noise from behind me. I turned and found Tigris standing up, no longer bound. "How," I began, and he interrupted with a spell of Paralysis.

"You fool. This perhaps is a bad time for you to learn this, but it is possible to cast spells without speaking. It is not the sound of the words but the mental act of forming them that makes the magic work. If you had time to read my books you might have learned the spell of Freedom which I used to overcome your bonds." He walked up beside the bed, which I had fallen upon when my muscles had failed me, and drew his dagger. "Now, I'd like to interrogate you, but you are much too dangerous, so goodbye." With that, he stabbed me in the chest. I died.

Well, I did, just as anyone in the modern world might die on the operating table, only to be brought back by doctors using advanced medical knowledge. Tigris did not know of the ring on my hand, and he turned away too quickly after removing the knife, so he did not see the flow of blood cease. The Ring of Regeneration repaired my ruptured heart, and I lay there, worrying that he would turn back and notice I was no longer dead before the spell of Paralysis wore off.

He didn't. I stood up quietly, and saw that he was trying to counter my spell on the thug. I decided to keep it simple, and released a Force Bolt spell of twofold power. He was transfixed, and as he turned and saw me I could see his shock and confusion. Then he died.

I always hated pedophiles, and I always will.

Unfortunately the scuffle had not gone unnoticed. The door burst open, and no less than five spearmen rushed in, menacing me. I was surprised, but even as I tried to cast my spell of Kinetic Shield they stabbed me.

I awoke in a cell, bound and gagged. Outside the cell stood a man of regal bearing in fine clothes with a leering grin. Elmarin, I supposed to myself. Behind him stood several guards. "You have killed Tigris, my chief mage, and so you must die. I have learned you are called Solomoriah. I have come here, Solomoriah, to thank you kindly for this fine ring, which saved your life. As you will not be needing it anymore I will wear it instead."

I remembered what Tigris had said about casting spells; he hadn't known that I also knew the spell of Freedom, though I didn't have it prepared. I began to cast it, forming the words in my mind as if I were speaking them, and I felt the mystic energies flowing into me.

Fortunately kings love to talk, and Elmarin was no exception. He continued in the same vein long enough for me to complete the spell, and as my bonds fell away I quickly spoke the word to activate my Kinetic Shield. I was just in time, as the guards rushed forward to stab at me through the bars with their spears. Elmarin stepped back behind them, toward the exit, as I released my Force Bolts one by one against the spearmen.

When the last guard fell, Elmarin turned tail and ran. The Freedom spell was already exhausted, so I used a simple Spirit Servant spell to retrieve the keys from the jailer's desk. I assume one of the fallen spearmen was the jailer, but frankly I don't know.

I was behind Elmarin by some seconds, but I still had spells left. I used a spell of Speed first. Then, Invisibility seemed prudent, and I cast it as I ran after him. I easily reached the corrupt King as he fled up the stairs and into a servant's hallway. I was nearly out of spells by this point, so I grabbed a nearby lampstand and struck him over the head with it. The bronze pole bent with the force of my strike, and he fell. Invisibility is a fragile spell, but I kept my mind calm even as I struck at him, and it did not fail me. I took all the rings he was wearing (for there were several) and fled the palace. I didn't slow down until I was outside the city.

Later I had time to study my "booty" and discovered one of his rings (besides the one he had taken from me) was enchanted. It took a while to puzzle it out, but I discovered that the ring served to detect scrying. Scrying refers to any spell or device which allows one to spy on a person or place remotely; a crystal ball, for instance, which incidentally are worthless for telling the future but quite handy for watching one's enemies.

The ring had a large blue sapphire in it, which I discovered turned orange when I was being scryed upon. The change was so fast that no one scrying upon me would be able to see it.

As I wore my Ring of Regeneration on my left hand, I put the Ring of the King (as I called it) on my right. It proved to be nearly as useful as the Ring of Regeneration in my battles against evil mages.


Chapter 3, I Lose Another Friend

I reached the village of Zimba some weeks later; it was the second village past the borders of Elmarin's territory, and I felt much safer at last. I stopped at a tavern and inquired about a room; the barkeep referred me to the owner, and he in turn showed me to a private room.

"Room and board, one night, one silver ringlet. Drinks extra." I paid him a gold ringlet, worth in those times about fifteen silver ringlets. "Will you be staying long, then?" he asked, a gleam in his eyes.

"I doubt it, but I may not have time to check out properly when I do leave. You may keep any excess." He left with a spring in his step. I closed the door and lay down on the surprisingly clean bed.

Later that evening I went down for my complimentary supper of stew. A gold ringlet bought my beer for the evening; I told the waitress to keep the change, and she also got a spring in her step.

I should tell you that money means little to me. Once I sold myself into slavery to a monster for the price of my life; money seems unimportant after you have lived through that. If I have enough for my physical needs, generally I am content.

As I finished my second beer, which I resolved would be all for the night, lest I become dangerously impaired, I overheard several men at a nearby table having a heated argument.

"I say he's a menace! Who knows what he's doing alone in that cave? He's a wizard, for Zor's sake!"

"Now, Rasha, how do you know this?" asked another man. "I, for one, have not seen him eating children or consorting with demons."

A third man spoke up. "Aye, but still, he at least is rustling our sheep, for how many herders have lost sheep in that district?"

The second man said, "Foo. That region is full of bluffs and washes. Sheep are stupid enough to die on their own there, and I fear some of the herders are also."

Rasha must have been a herder, for he lept to his feet and raised a fist in the second man's face. "Cor Vinus, you have insulted me too many times!" A fight seemed imminent.

I considered a spell, but decided (perhaps it was the beer talking) to step in instead. "I am Solomoriah, the slayer of wizards. Calm yourself, Rasha, and you all will tell me of this man who lives in a cave."

It came out then that a hermit named Zam Nar lived in a cave in a nearby area. He was known to be a sorceror, but no one knew his speciality, if indeed he had one. He came to town every month or so with skins of various types to trade for food and supplies, and he never spoke to anyone if he didn't have to.

I resolved to meet this Zam Nar, and take his measure. "I will go to his cave, my friends, and learn about him; and if he poses a threat to you and yours, I will deal with that." There was some grumbling, but all agreed this seemed a reasonable course of action.

They were terrified, of course. They were scared of me, too; I could see it in their eyes. This had been my lot in life for quite a while.

The next day, I renewed my prepared spells and set out into the countryside. It took me about three hours to reach the bluffside cave the men in the tavern had described.

"Zam Nar, are you here?" I called. "I am Solomoriah, come to parley with you." My voice echoed in the cavern.

After a few moments, I heard "Enter, Solomoriah, slayer of wizards. Have you come to slay me today?"

"Not today, my friend. Many of the village of Zimba fear you, and they would like me to kill you, but it is not my way. Only if you are truly a threat to them would I do that."

At that moment, a light appeared in the cavern. I could see the hermit, wearing worn but generally clean clothing, standing in the back of the cavern with a flaming torch in hand. He put it in a crevice in the wall, a sort of makeshift sconce, and motioned me to sit on one of the several large rocks which formed his furniture.

As I did so I looked around his cave. He had bedding, in the form of skins and straw, in one spot, with a large, shapeless leather bag placed nearby... his "luggage," I presumed. Boxes and sacks of dry foodstuffs were in another corner, and hanging from a sort of wooden frame was a gazelle, obviously for his next meal, and some skins drying beside it.

"I am finishing my apprenticeship," he began. "My master feels that seven months spent in the wilderness, meditating and focusing, is the best way to make the transition to adept."

"A sort of sabbatical before you begin?"

"Just so. I am forbidden to eat meat or fish I have not caught and killed myself, but I may trade for other foodstuffs. I am also not to have visitors, so I am afraid you must leave."

"Who is your master?" I asked.

"Tigris, first mage of King Elmarin." I could not hide the brief moment of shock from my face; and Zam noticed it. He stood up. "You know them, don't you?" Then he looked me over, taking my measure again. "That ring on your hand! It is the ring of Elmarin! You have slain them both, then!"

I braced myself, my spell of Kinetic Shield at the forefront of my mind.

"I suppose you think I should slay you now," he said, "to defend the honor of my master. In truth, I am relieved."

"How so?" I asked, relaxing slightly.

"Tigris was a dark and evil man. When he learned I had demonstrated unusual talent, he decided he wanted me as his apprentice. I refused, but he found out I have a little brother, Ren; so he blackmailed me, and I gave in to save my brother."

"Sit, Zam Nar, and consider your apprenticeship at an end a bit early," I said. "Let me tell you of my former master." So I did.

We talked all day, and all night, exchanging spells, drinking the wine he had brought to celebrate the end of his seclusion, telling tall tales of women we had known, and considerably more realistic tales of the men I had fought. I drank more than is my normal quota, and became quite drunk.

I awoke after noon the next day, in a smoke-filled cavern in terrible pain. As I looked down, in the smoky gloom I saw a spear working its' way out of my abdomen; the ring at work. I looked around, and realized that we had been choked by smoke from a fire at the mouth of the cave, and then attacked by spearmen. They had apparently been too fearful to loot our bodies...

I saw Zam, a spear in his chest. He was not breathing.

My rage cleared my head. I prepared a fearful group of spells, and cast a potent Flight spell on myself, with enough power to carry me all the way to the village. I flew swiftly, and I saw Rasha and his friends laughing as they entered the tavern. I landed, and I listened at the door a moment.

"Barkeep! Beer all around!" yelled Rasha. "We have slain two foul wizards this day, and that's thirsty work!"

That was all I needed to hear. I cast a Force Bolt, which blew the door off its hinges. I stepped inside, already protected by a Kinetic Shield, and said "When you kill a foul wizard, you damn fool, make sure he's DEAD!"

I won't list the spells I cast; it is sufficient to say that the killers' bodies were a bit hard to identify when I was finished. Those not involved in the murderous plot quickly realized I wasn't interested in them, and fled.

The red haze before my eyes finally faded, and I was left drained of emotion. I picked up a forgotten mug of beer, drank it, and flew out the door.

I decided then and there to leave Africa. I had lived on that continent seven years, and had perhaps a month's worth of happy memories from that time. In the city of Gharu I found a merchant with a large ship (for the time, anyway) and arranged to exchange my magical services for passage to the continent now known as South America.


Chapter 4, A Cup of Xocholotl

In a village in a country in South America, I was told of an evil sorceror. It was said that he lived on the side of a volcanic mountain and held sway over several villages in the lowlands below. When I learned he was known for human sacrifices, I vowed to defeat him.

His name was Tjarik; that's about all I knew. The last time I had battled a wizard I didn't know anything about, my friends died and I became a slave. Since then I always tried to learn something about my foe first.

I went to the temple district, in the city of Ta Charka. It lay on the mouth of the river Yoris; you know it as the Amazon. I approached the gate to the temple district in the morning, before the heat of the equatorial sun became too much to bear. An alert guard challenged me. "You are impure, stranger. I can see it in your aura."

"I am certain you are right, sir. I need to speak with a priest regarding Tjarik the sorceror. I can wait here if you prefer me not to enter."

The guard sent a runner, a young boy, to get a priestess named Zanice. Shortly she arrived, and we moved to a nearby restaurant to get out of the heat. I bought her an iced xocholotl and sat down across from her.

"You said you wanted to talk about Tjarik," she said.

"Indeed. I am Solomoriah, the sorceror, and I intend to defeat him."

"And take over his domain, I suppose?"

"You haven't heard of me, have you? I am Solomoriah, slayer of mages. I plan to defeat him, take his works of mystic knowledge, and move on, as I always have."

"Why do you live this way, Solomoriah? Has it anything to do with the taint upon your aura?"

I grimaced. "Most likely. Ask not for more than I dare to tell."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't, I suppose; but what harm can it do to tell me what you know of him?"

Well, she told me what I needed to know. Tjarik was a fire-mage, and evidently feared necromancers in the worst way; this could work to my advantage. She could tell me little of the lay of the land, but she did reveal that one of the villagers, a man called Bombas in the village of Korth, could be trusted. "Tell him the one with the commanding eyes sends you," she said. I decided to seek him out.

The trip around the coast to Korth was uneventful; I booked passage on a merchant ship heading in that direction, but as it didn't proceed all the way to Korth I had to walk the last few miles. I found the house of Bombas much as Zanice had described it, and likewise the tan-skinned and portly owner thereof.

A glance at the ring on my right hand told me I was being watched; so I said, "Bombas! I am sent by the one with commanding eyes! Call me Zam Nar."

"Well met, Zam Nar. Please grace my home with your presence," he said, as he held open the cloth covering the door.

Inside, he indicated a chair at his kitchen table, and I sat. He sat opposite me, and said "You have come to battle Tjarik, then?"

"No, my friend, to join him. He is said to be a powerful fire-mage, and I believe I can learn much from him."

"Then you don't want to defeat him?" Bombas looked shocked.

"Why should I do that? He is a man of might and power!"

I feared that Bombas would cast me out right then, and then I noticed the stone in the ring was again blue.

"We may speak now, Bombas. I knew Tjarik was listening. I am not Zam Nar; rather I am Solomoriah, the slayer of mages. I do intend to slay Tjarik." Bombas' face softened.

I drank from a cup of warm xocholotl he offered. "I plan to enter his fortress, not by force nor by stealth, but by guile. I will offer him an exchange of knowledge, but he will not know I am a necromancer until it is too late."

"Is your necromancy more powerful than his pyromancy, then?"

"Not really, but he fears it, I have learned. I plan to claim I am an air-mage, then when the battle finally begins I will use some fearsome spells I know to rattle him. I plan to go to his fortress tomorrow; may I spend the night here?"

"Of course, friend of Zanice."

"She wouldn't call me that, but she will be grateful for my intervention."

The next morning after a hot breakfast prepared by Bombas' equally portly wife, I went out to the small barn and sat down in the straw. My ring was a steady blue, so I began with the necromantic spells.

Most spells take too long to cast to be used in battle if you must gather the power and speak all the words; so mages prepare them, performing almost all the casting and capturing the required power. When the spell is to be released, just the last few words and gestures, such as targeting, must be performed.

It had been a long time since I had cast any spells of necromancy; so far as I know, no one outside of Ket's fortress knew I was a necromancer, and this is because I avoided those spells. I found I had to get out my old spell scroll, and refresh my memory. I kept two spell "books," the scroll of necromantic spells from my old master and a leather-bound tome I had created since containing no necromancy. This second book is the one I used when exchanging spells with other mages. Because it was too heavy, I sold Zam Nar's spell book in Gharu after transcribing those spells I had learned from him into my own book.

As I finished my preparations, Bombas hurried into the barn, evidently looking for me. He looked agitated. I checked my ring, then said, "You may speak, Bombas."

"Tjarik has sent word that he requires another sacrifice. It has been only a month since the last!"

"Has one been chosen?" I asked, rising.

"Yes. My niece, Silla."

Now I understood his worry. Certainly, any death by sacrifice to Tjarik's fiery patron was sad, but this hit too close to his home.

"What is the procedure for delivery of a sacrifice?"

Bombas took a moment to calm himself. "The sacrifice is to have her hands bound, and to be delivered by one of our warriors to his front entrance. He lets down his flame barrier, and his guards take the sacrifice inside."

"This can work to our advantage. Bombas, let me take the girl. I swear to you that I will protect her."

"The other elders will never allow it. They fear Tjarik too much; if they knew what you were doing they'd turn us both over to him."

"I doubt they'd find it easy. Still, I can make this work."

I left the village shortly after the warrior took Silla from her weeping family. I went in a different direction until I entered the jungle, then after again checking my ring, I used the spell of Flight to become airborne. Flying low over the treetops, I knew the people of Korth would not see me. Presently I overtook the warrior and the sacrifice.

A wave and a word, and the warrior fell as if he were struck. The spell I used was Sleep, not Paralysis, because I did not want him to see me; the paralyzed still have their senses. Quickly I whispered to Silla my plan, and she agreed to cooperate, though I could see she was terrified. Reluctantly I placed a Compulsion on her to ensure her silence, as I did not want her to give me away.


This story continues on my regular website at:
http://tower.newcenturycomputers.net/fiction/book01chap05.html