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  Chapter 23 - Counsel of Wizards

  “A wise precaution.” Raven stared intently into Myt’s eyes. “Grimm can take many forms. By inviting her dark magic into your village, you would belong to her and be forced to serve her dark ways. After two hundred years, I would expect nothing less than total certainty that I am not her.”

  Krys looked upon the great man, the legendary lost wizard of two centuries past.

  The villagers began talking at once. The air tingled with a mixture of fear and excitement.

  Myt held his hands up. “Silence.” He waited for the crowd to quiet before he continued. “We shall reconvene in the meeting cottage at once. Citizens, search the village for injuries and treat those in need.” He waved a pointed finger around. “And extinguish these fires.”

  Krys squeezed his eyes shut and slowly blinked them open. It didn’t change a thing. Much of the village was still in ruins, his parents’ cottage—burned down. Guilt flooded through him. He swore he’d make this up to his neighbors, but more importantly, his parents, even if it took the rest of his life.

  Myt touched Raven’s arm and steered him in the direction of the line of wizards heading toward the meeting cottage. The Elder then waved Krys, Peter and Navashay into the procession.

  Peering ahead, Krys noticed three familiar people as they pushed their way through the crowd. His heartbeat spiked.

  “Ah, Rufus, Sarah, Richard,” Myt said to Peter’s and Krys’ parents. “Based on the age of your sons, I would prefer you accompany us.”

  Krys saw the worried expressions of his parents. They ran to him and his mother smothered him in a tight hug. His father wrapped his arms around both of them. Krys had trouble breathing, but he didn’t mind. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into their loving embraces.

  “Krys, you’re okay,” his mother cried. “We thought you—” She glanced over her shoulder toward the charred remains of her cottage.

  Another stab of guilt dissected Krys’ heart. “I’m sorry I—”

  “That’s of no real importance.” His father held Krys by the shoulders at arms’ length. “As long as you’re safe.”

  His parents flanking him, Krys walked toward the meeting cottage, the village site reserved for business and elder meetings. Peter, Rufus Greenleaf, and Navashay walked ahead of them. They all followed the long line of wizards.

  The rest of the assembled citizens drifted away into the damaged village.

  Krys shuffled forward, apprehensive about facing every wizard leader in Lanterra for a meeting far more important than the choosing of apprentices. The tale he was to tell was exciting and fantastic, yet he knew it would also be hard to believe. Elder Myt, of course knew of the journal and Krys’ need to attempt Raven’s rescue. But what did the other wizards know? Had Myt told them? He was glad Raven was here. He would validate everything. But, how would they prove Raven’s identity?

  A shudder passed through his body from head to toe. What if he really wasn’t the great Wizard Raven? If this wizard was actually an impostor, then Krys would have brought the enemy into his village. But he’d seen Raven and Grimm fight. It just had to be him. As he walked through the door of the meeting cottage, his stomach twisted into a tight knot.

  Glowing oil lamps hung on the walls and the cramped room glowed in soft hues of gold. Myt closed the door behind Krys, shutting the village out. Everyone had taken a seat, except Krys, Raven and Myt. The Head Elder indicated an empty seat on the bench next to fidgeting Peter and Navashay.

  Krys sat down. He folded his sweaty hands in his lap, and waited.

  Raven moved to the back of the room, his hair, beard and clothing still smoldering. The stench of burning hair filled the small space. He stood, unmoving against the wall, his arms crossed upon his chest. Krys wondered why the great wizard didn’t even look at him.

  Myt also remained standing. “Before we begin, I would like to know the identity of our other visitor.” He turned to the healer.

  Navashay stood, but before she could utter a word, one of the visiting wizards spoke. “She is Navashay Foxglove of Hibbard Village.” He smiled at the young healer.

  “Why is she here?” asked Myt.

  “I don’t know,” said the wizard. He turned to Navashay.

  Krys jumped up. “She’s here, because without her, I wouldn’t have freed Raven.” He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and sank back into his seat when he noticed Raven standing beside him.

  “I was sent by an old woman to seek Raven,” she said.

  Myt blinked. “And your expertise?”

  “I am a healer.”

  “You mean you are a healer-apprentice.” Myt raised an eyebrow to her.

  The visiting wizard rose. “She is a healer. She completed her apprenticeship not only at an early age, but far quicker than any other. She is a very gifted child.”

  “I see.” Myt rubbed his chin.

  “I will vouch for her character, Myt.” The visiting wizard threw his shoulders back and seemed to take a defensive position.

  “And so will I.” Krys rose slightly from his seat again, then reconsidered after noticing the slight back-and-forth shake of Raven’s head. He dropped onto the bench.

  Myt waved his hand. “There is no need for an investigation. She is but a small part of this.” He turned to the great wizard. “You say you are Raven.” He paced at the end of the table, his arms crossed and his chin resting on one hand. “I must be sure.” He stopped, dropped his arms to his sides, and faced Raven.

  “If I may, Head Elder—Myt, isn’t it?” Raven’s voice was kind.

  Myt nodded.

  “As was stated, I am the Wizard Raven, advisor to King Reth. I have been held prisoner in Ravenwood Castle for the past two hundred years.” He extended his arms from the folds of his robes, bringing his magnificent staff into plain view.

  Another visiting wizard jumped from his seat, strode around the end of the table directly to Raven. “This means nothing.” He pointed an accusing finger at the staff. “Any half-trained magician can conjure a likeness of Raven’s staff.” He scowled and stood nose-to-nose with Raven. “If you are who you say you are, then you will have no objection to showing us the mark of the king.”

  Raven never took his eyes from the other wizard’s as he handed his staff to Navashay. He flipped back his robes and pulled the left sleeve of his inner robe up to exposed his upper arm. “This mark?”

  Krys smiled as everyone around the table rose from their seats, leaned, and strained to get a look at the visitor’s arm. The mark symbolized an attacking lion reared up on his back legs and surrounded by a spray of ivy. Flames of blood-red flickered around the edge of it.

  “Can someone not conjure the mark?” Elder Halkiya of Ravenwood shouted.

  “It is unlikely,” said Raven.

  Myt stared at the mark as he stroked his beard.

  “If you still doubt my identity—” Raven took a step toward Myt. “I invite you to test the mark. You shall find my claim to be valid.”

  “As you wish,” Myt replied.

  Krys’ heart clenched. Why wouldn’t the Head Elder accept Raven’s identity? What more proof did he need?

  Myt held the tip of his staff to Raven’s arm. The stone on the end gleamed with an intense light. The two wizards closed their eyes. Neither moved nor spoke. After several moments, their eyes shot open at the same time, their stares fixed on the other.

  Raven smiled.

  Myt’s jaw dropped open.

  Krys couldn’t help but grin.

  Silence shrouded the small room.

  “It is you,” Myt whispered as he studied the great wizard’s face.

  “Indeed.” Raven’s emerald eyes sparkled. He extended his hand to Navashay and she gave him his staff. He leaned it against the table.

  Myt shook his head. “B-But, how?”

  Raven motioned everyone to sit, and explained what had happened two centuries before. When he had finished, Krys stood and filled in details su
pplied by the journal and began his own story.

  When Krys was done, Myt shifted his stance and peered at Raven. “If Grimm is as old as you, how could she have survived this many years?”

  “She is an exceptionally powerful sorcerer, sired from an ancestry of the most dominant wizards to have ever existed. The dark magic she practices most certainly has prolonged her life.”

  The assembled wizards whispered amongst themselves.

  “Tell me,” Raven said. “How has the magic of Lanterra become unbalanced?”

  Myt crossed his arms, stared at the floor for a moment and shook his head. “There are far too many incidences to list here.”

  “Several examples, those you find most important, will be sufficient.”

  Myt arched his brow and blew out a breath. “There are areas scattered throughout the land that lack magic of any kind.”

  “That is the result of Grimm’s acquisition of the Stones of Wisdom.” Raven paced at the end of the table. “When not housed together, a detrimental change in the fabric of magic occurs.”

  Krys nudged Peter’s shoulder with his own. “The stones! They’re at the heart of all of this.”

  “Somehow,” Peter said. “They’ll be able to fix the balance of magic.”

  Navashay leaned forward. “I just hope it isn’t too late.”

  Raven halted and turned to face Myt. “Are these areas of no magic marked in any way?”

  “No, but their boundaries can be felt,” Myt explained. “Over the years, these places have been mapped, but occasionally they drift to other areas. And they are slowly becoming larger.”

  Raven clasped his hands behind his back and resumed pacing. “In time, all of Lanterra will be devoid of magic altogether.”

  Krys had heard about the areas of no magic his entire life, but never knew they’d been charted.

  “I will need to see those maps,” said Raven.

  “Certainly. We will provide you with whatever you need.” Myt turned to Peter and Navashay. “Will the two of you go to my cottage and fetch them?”

  Peter nodded and he and Navashay stood.

  “You will find them wrapped in leather on the bottom shelf of the cabinet in the main room. Please bring both rolls.”

  “Yes, Elder Myt,” said Peter.

  When the door shut behind Peter and Navashay, Raven continued. “And what of the good citizens of Lanterra?”

  “There is some harmony between the villages,” said a visiting wizard. “But they no longer function as a whole. There is much unrest and distrust. Most do not openly support each other. Only the wizards remain civil and work together.”

  Raven was silent for a few moments. “How else has Lanterra suffered?”

  “There have been numerous attacks by Grimm’s followers,” another wizard reported. “Whole villages have nearly been destroyed by dragon fire.”

  “What reports do you hear from the clans of non-human folk?”

  Krys sat straight up. He’d always been fascinated with the collection of creatures that inhabited the land.

  The elders shook their heads and looked at each other.

  “There is little association between them and us anymore,” said Crillin. “The giants have moved high into the mountains, and to the Southern Island; the ogres stay hidden deep in the foothills north of Hibbard; the dwarves continue to live underground, but will not permit humans to approach their city any longer; the elves stay secluded, mostly in the forests, away from all human contact. The—”

  “That is an incredible loss,” said Raven. “Those folks have always stood behind the kingdom.”

  “Sadly, Raven,” said a wrinkled wizard from another village. “There is no real kingdom any longer.”

  “How can that be?” Raven asked. “What is known of Kings Reth’s heirs?”

  “After the massacre at the castle,” said the same wizard. “No heir to the throne, or descendent of the king has surfaced.”

  “Then how is the land governed?”

  “The land, as a whole, is not,” said Myt.

  “But,” said Crillin. “Once a year the village wizards from across Lanterra meet. We try to keep evil magic at bay the best we can.”

  “But there is no real leader in this land,” one of the visiting wizards said.

  “That is quite unfortunate.” Raven raked his singed beard with one hand and stared at the floor, clearly in deep thought. He exhaled and scanned the assemblage again. “What else of the non-humans is known?”

  “Virtually nothing,” Said Crillin. “The only contact between any of them and us, other than dragon attacks, has involved goblins.”

  “But they assail and kill any human they can,” said Myt. “There have been reports of them entering villages and taking babies and small children from their beds.”

  Several wizards seated around Myt nodded.

  Krys was in awe of all he was hearing. He glanced from wizard to wizard as they spoke. He never knew Lanterra’s future perched so precariously on the edge of an abyss.

  “We fear they are being trained as children of darkness,” Myt continued.

  Raven shook his head. “This is not the world I knew.” Silence hung in the air for a few moments. “Tell me, has anyone actually seen Grimm before today?”

  The wizards all shook their heads.

  “She, no doubt has kept herself well hidden all these years—” Raven commenced pacing. “—sending her followers in her place. But now she has made herself known again.” He stopped and faced Myt. “No one else will be able to complete the task fate has handed me.”

  “So, you’ll have to fight her again?” Krys’ stomach tightened as he recalled the battle that occurred earlier that evening at the tomb of King Reth.

  “Most definitely.”

  “But, she beat you two hundred years ago,” said Krys.

  “If she had, I would be dead. She tried to kill me then, but my magic was as strong as hers and I had the added magic of the castle to protect me. I felt her strength waning, unable to do as she desired. In the end, all she was able to do was place me in an artificial sleep, even though she was in possession of the Stones of Wisdom. I believe she suffered greatly during that battle. She overestimated her own abilities and drained her energy to the point of exhaustion. When she finally captured me, the only strength she had left was used to defeat King Reth, a man—not a wizard.”

  “But Raven, what has she been doing for two hundred years?” Krys yawned, his eyes burned with exhaustion. “And where are the stones now?”

  “The stones are, no doubt, scattered throughout the land to minimize their powers.” Raven eased himself into a seat. “As to where she’s been, I believe she has been resting.” He placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Knowing the day would come when she would meet me in battle once more.”

  “But you fought her just a turn of the hourglass ago,” said Myt.

  Raven dropped his hands, palms flat on the table and looked around at the group. “I don’t believe she planned that meeting. She had taken Peter, mistaking him for Krys. I interrupted her. She will return even stronger soon. We must be ready.”

  Myt leaned forward in his chair. “We have heard no reports of her whereabouts, Master Wizard. Where could her lair be?”

  “In the place she has always controlled,” said Raven. “The farthest point northeast.”

  “Firewood Island?” Myt rose slightly out of his chair.

  Raven nodded. “In the ruins of Firewood Village, near the mines.”

  “But that area is controlled by dragons,” one of the wizards said.

  “And the dragons are controlled by her.” Raven leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t speak for several moments. “Your task,” he said to Myt. “Will be to bring together as many of the villages as possible. Send messengers throughout the land. The good people of Lanterra must stand strong and united if victory over Grimm and her army is to be realized. There is much to do
in a short amount of time.”

  Myt nodded. “As you wish, Master Wizard.”

  The door creaked open and Peter and Navashay entered, each holding a bundle wrapped in thin, soft-looking leather.

  Falunsaar glided into the cottage before the door shut. He circled the room once and dropped onto Krys’ shoulder.

  Krys glanced at Crillin, who gazed back at him with knitted brow and head cocked to the side. Krys shrugged at his teacher, unsure why the dwarf dragon had come to him instead of his master.

  Peter and Navashay handed the bundles to Myt and took their seats again.

  Myt held them out to Raven. “These maps have been compiled over the years. You should find them quite useful for your purposes.”

  Raven set the bundles on the table in front of him. “We will be leaving Ravenwood soon.” He motioned to Krys, Peter and Navashay.

  One of the visiting wizards jumped to his feet. “You expect us to trust our safety to a child?” He threw his arm out towards Krys. “A mage so incompetent that he couldn’t even secure the teachings of a mentor?”

  Krys’ chin dropped to his chest. He glanced up at Raven, the heat from embarrassment crawled up his shoulders and across his head, and a stab of self-loathing spread through his body.

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  Chapter 24 - The Wizard’s Apprentice

  Raven looked upon Krys with kindness. He turned his attention back to the accusing wizard. He leaned against the table toward Krys’ accuser. “Krystomere Anderwood has proven his competence to me.” He stood straight and squared his shoulders. “I will take him on as my apprentice.” He locked gazes with the wizard and dragged his words out one at a time, “You have no idea the power he possesses.”

  The realization of what Krys had just heard sent a shock of disbelief through him.

  Elder Myt jumped to his feet, an expression of sudden realization crossing his face. “Wait a minute!” He pointed to Peter. “You want to take Peter Greenleaf too, don’t you!”

  Raven nodded.

  “He’s my apprentice! How can I train him if you take him on this journey?”