The Powers Of Haddenspor - Chapters 1-2

A young inexperienced mage is put under a geas that brings him half a world away to danger

The Powers Of Haddenspor

Chapter 1 - Tower Of The Elements

Tafon slung his small travel bag over his shoulder, moving with a confidence he wouldn’t have recognised in himself a year ago. He paused at the end of the gangplank and glanced back at the Kolo Duck. Captain Jessy stood on deck, arms folded, giving him a single curt nod — the closest thing to a farewell the man ever offered. Tafon returned the gesture with a brief wave before stepping onto the dock. Solid ground felt strange after months at sea. He had taken surprisingly well to ship life, but it was good to see new faces again — even if the comfort of dry land did nothing to quiet the dread twisting in his gut.

That dread was the real reason he was here, half a world away in Haddenspor. Something — or someone — had dragged him across continents. He still didn’t know who. Or why. Only that the compulsion had grown too strong to ignore. He hadn’t even realised what was happening at first. Already an outcast in his village for dabbling in forbidden magic lore, he had thought the strange pull was some instinctive magical warning. But the old witch woman in Janolo had set him straight. Someone had placed a geas on him. She had tried to lift it, muttering and sweating over her charms, but in the end, she had shaken her head. Only the one who bound it can break it.

So Tafon had followed the pull across the sea. He made his way through a narrow, filthy street that reeked of rot and sewage. Over the rooftops, he spotted a tower rising above the city — impossibly tall, its steepled peak piercing the sky. The geas tightened in his chest at the sight of it. “That’s where I’m meant to go,” he muttered.

The streets grew busier as he approached the city centre. People jostled past him, shouting to one another, their voices blending into a constant roar. Tafon had never seen so many people in one place. He ducked into a crowded inn, bought a meal, and listened. The locals spoke of political unrest, factions vying for control — but one rumour caught his attention: someone trapped inside a magical sphere. When he left the inn, the geas tugged harder, pulling him toward the tower. Guards stood at the main gate, so Tafon circled the outer wall until he found a servant’s entrance. He waited until sunset, when a horse and cart approached. As the gate opened, he slipped beneath the wagon, gripping the central axle as it rolled inside.

“So far so good,” he whispered.

When the cart stopped, he dropped down and kept to the shadows, moving between outbuildings as twilight deepened. He came upon a domed structure and found a locked door. Tafon muttered a spell under his breath — nothing. He tried again. And again. On the fourth attempt, the door creaked open.
Inside, a torchlit corridor stretched ahead. Voices echoed from a room beyond. Footsteps approached. Heart pounding, Tafon slipped into a small recess — a stairway leading upward.

He climbed quickly and emerged onto a circular balcony overlooking a chamber below. A long table dominated the room, surrounded by six or seven men in a heated debate. At the head sat a woman with long auburn hair braided down her back. Even from above, Tafon could see the tension in her posture.
She rose abruptly and left the room.

The geas pulled harder. Tafon moved along the balcony into the central tower and climbed another set of stairs. His breath came short by the time he reached the top. A door swung open as he reached for it.

Inside, a single crystal-like structure glowed with cold light. Trapped within it stood an elderly man with white hair and beard, frozen mid-gesture. Tafon felt the truth instantly. This is the one who bound the geas.

He stepped closer, studying the crystal, searching for a weakness. He tried a spell. Then another. Nothing.

He was so focused, he didn’t hear the door behind him open.

Chapter Two

Tafon felt a sharp blow to his back and gasped as he sprawled across the floor. He tried to roll and rise, but his attacker was already on him, straddling his waist and pinning him down.

“Stop there, assassin. Move, and I’ll kill you. I’m trained in unarmed combat — I know exactly where to strike to make it fatal.”

“I’m no assassin,” Tafon managed, wincing. “I was trying to break the crystal — to release the man inside.”

The voice was unmistakably feminine. In the glow of the crystal, he recognised her: the auburn-haired woman from the council chamber.

“Liar,” she snapped, pressing him harder into the floor. “If you’re not an assassin, then you’re a thief. No one gets in here by accident.”

Despite her threat, Tafon struggled, expecting a killing blow at any moment. He freed one hand and muttered a spell. A burst of force lifted the woman clean off him and hurled her across the room. Tafon scrambled to his feet, breath ragged. She recovered quickly, rising with fury in her eyes.

He raised his hand to cast again — but before either could act, a shimmering apparition formed between them. The image of the man trapped in the crystal.

“Father!” the woman gasped, her lower lip trembling. Tafon caught a flicker of grief beneath her anger.

“Stop, both of you,” the apparition commanded, raising translucent hands. “Elvira, my daughter — stay your temper. I brought this young man here to help you.”

Elvira shot Tafon a look of pure scorn. “This thief? He’s nothing but a vagabond. He may know a few spells, but how is he supposed to help us?”

Tafon sighed. “So that’s how it’s going to be.” She clearly saw him as some low-born oaf. Maybe he was, compared to her — but she had no right to speak to him like that. His nostrils flared. “I told you, I’m no thief. I was forced here against my will. I want to know why your father dragged me across the world — and how to lift the geas he put on me.”

“Enough,” the Archmage said, his voice hollow through the projection. “I haven’t much time. If our enemy senses I can still use even a little magic, they may strike again. And every moment I speak drains what strength I have left.”

“Sir,” Tafon said urgently, “can you at least lift the geas?”

The Archmage sighed — the same weary motion as the man frozen in the crystal. “Your name, young man?”
“Tafon Nafrin.”

“I am sorry to have brought you here, Tafon, but we are in desperate need of your help—”

“I don’t need this commoner’s help,” Elvira cut in, folding her arms. “I’ll find a way to free you myself.”

“Elvira,” her father said sharply, “you must work with him.” He turned to Tafon. “If you agree to go with my daughter and aid her, you will no longer feel the compulsion. But if you stray from your task, the geas will become… painful.”

Tafon frowned. “How am I supposed to help?”

“I have searched far and wide for a mage of your strength,” the Archmage said. “You are more powerful than you realise. With training — and if you survive — you may one day equal me.”

Tafon stared, stunned. “Sir… you expect too much. I know some magic, yes, but I doubt I can be of much use.”

Elvira grunted in agreement.

“You must go with her,” the Archmage insisted. “Haddenspor is in danger — and that danger may spread to your homeland. Dark forces are at work. I do not yet know who they are, but they have allies everywhere. Even here, in my tower.”

A chill ran down Tafon’s spine.

“It was those allies who deceived me and imprisoned me in this crystal.”

Tafon nodded slowly. “Very well, sir. I’ll help. I don’t know how much good I’ll be, but I’ll try.” He glanced at Elvira, offering a faint smile and a respectful bow. She ignored him, looking down her nose as if he were an insect.

“Elvira,” the Archmage pleaded.

She huffed. “Very well. For your sake, Father, I’ll work with this ruffian. But I don’t trust him — and if he gives me cause, I’ll kill him in the blink of an eye.”

The Archmage sighed. The vision flickered and vanished.

Tafon exhaled, rubbing his temples. He glanced up — for the first time noticing the dome above them, alive with swirling elemental lights. “What is this place?”

“It’s an elemental tower,” Elvira said. “My father is an elemental mage.” She gestured impatiently. “If you’re done gawking, get out the way you came. If anyone sees you, you’ll end up in a cell — and then you’re no use to either of us.”

“Yes, but how do we meet later?”

Elvira pursed her lips. “Do you know The Prancing Horse Inn?”

“I can find it.”

She paused at the doorway. “Do you have a horse?”

“No.”

She sighed again. “Fine. I’ll bring the horses. Meet me there before noon tomorrow.” She left without another word.

Tafon lingered a moment, looking at the Archmage trapped in the crystal. “I’ll do my best, sir. Despite your daughter.” He bowed and slipped out the way he came.

Tafon waited well past noon before Elvira finally arrived at the inn. She scanned the room until she spotted him in a corner. In the full light of day, Tafon felt heat rise to his cheeks. She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but she had a presence — long braided hair with a copper shine, green eyes, a faint blush to her cheeks, full lips, and a petite but well-proportioned figure. She wore a light mail shirt, riding trousers, and boots. She stood half a head shorter than he, but carried herself like royalty.

She stopped at his table, expression as superior as ever. “Well? Are you ready? We’ve a long road ahead.”

Tafon stared at her. “Ready? I’ve been waiting here since midday.”

“Well, come on then.” She turned and strode out.

Tafon rose, shaking his head, and followed her to where two horses waited. She pointed to a grey dun for him while she mounted a black. Without another word, they rode north out of the city.