The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 3

I had been there before, at first when Marc undertook to improve my education. My parents had taught me to read at a young age but the finer arts of geometry and grammar were beyond them. I think he dragged me along at first to provide a distraction from the work his tutor had set for him, but over time it became clear I had a real knack for language and mathematics. Later the Duchess encouraged Marc to invite me since his progress greatly improved when I was involved. As a result I was probably the best educated peasant ever to emerge from Lancaster.

Still the Duke’s library was one of the best in the kingdom, and neither of us really knew the extent and breadth of the volumes it contained. Being young we just started searching titles and hoping to find something relevant. Marc started thumbing through histories hoping to find some mention of past wizards while I wound up getting bogged down in an herbal compendium. I always had a weakness for plants. Eventually I broke away from that and began searching again when Marc called me back.

“Hey Mort I found something!” It turned out to be a history of the university at Albamarl, which was the capital of Lothion. “According to this, the university used to have a college of magic,” he said.

“Is it still there?” I asked.

“No apparently there was a plague and rumors got around that the wizards had something to do with it, the college was destroyed by an angry mob. Looks like most of the faculty were burned at the stake.”

“Why do I want to be a wizard again?”

“Because it’s terribly impressive! There are very few left now, and otherwise how will I ever find a magical counselor when I become duke?” He gave me one of his famously charming grins.

“Your father doesn’t have a ‘magical' counselor” I replied.

“Only because there are none to be found anymore. My grandfather had one though. Oh look here! You aren’t a wizard after all!” That got my attention. “According to this you’re a mage.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Anyone with a moderate amount of latent ability is a mage, a wizard is a mage who’s been educated and learned to harness his powers properly.”

I laughed, “So I’m ignorant! We knew that already.” We skimmed through the rest of the book but as to the fate of the wizards that survived the burning of the college there was nothing to be found.

“Let’s keep looking, I know Vestrius kept some books here somewhere,” Marc said.

“Vestrius?” I asked.

“Grandfather’s pet wizard,” Marc answered.

I made a slow tour of the shelves when I noticed something odd, back near the corner, beside one of the wooden bookcases was a faintly glowing symbol. “Hey come check this out,” I called. Then I reached forward to touch it. A moment later I found myself sitting at a reading table back in the front room of the library. Marc was looking at me oddly.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he said.

“Why?”

Exasperated he went on, “A moment ago you called me over to that side room where the grammars are kept and then you just walked out and sat down over here with nary a word of explanation, that’s what!”

“I did?” Confusion had become my regular companion these past few days.

“The legends of absentminded wizards are becoming truer every day,” he replied. “Come on, let’s see what you forgot, professor dimwit.” We got up and went back into the small side chamber that he said I had called to him from.

Looking around for a few minutes I spotted the glowing rune again, “Hello what’s this?” I reached out to touch it again. A moment later I found myself sitting at the reading table again. Marc was sitting across from me with a bemused expression.

“I’ll start by saying you are never going to cut it as a mage or whatever if you keep touching strange wards,” he said.

“Weren’t we just in here a bit ago?” I queried.

“There’s the great mind I’ve come to respect. Welcome back Mordecai, master of the obvious!” Sarcasm was not one of his more becoming qualities. Now that I think on it, it’s probably not one of mine either. He quickly explained what had happened, so we went back to take another look.

This time I didn’t touch the rune, “Can you see it?” I asked him.

“No.”

“Try touching it and see what happens,” I suggested.

“Not a chance, what if I forgot something important!”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe the first time I lay with a woman!” Marc answered.

“What the heck? When did that happen? You’re not a virgin anymore?” I was stunned.

“And you are?” he replied, arching his eyebrows.

“Shut up, let’s get back to business.” I stared at the rune while he chuckled behind me. Finally I tried something different. Holding my hand out, I brought it near the rune but didn’t touch it. As it came near to the glow I could feel a pressure growing in my mind. Forget. A faint whispering came to me, but I held firm. Taking a deep breath I tried to exert a pressure similar to the one I felt, only directed outward, back at the rune. For several long moments I could feel a tension building, not only in my mind but in the air around me, then the world exploded.

I found myself lying on my back with Marc looming over me holding a pry bar. “You are either the stupidest or the luckiest bastard I’ve ever known,” he said. I sat up and looked at the spot where the symbol had been. It was notably absent, but a scorched area marred the wall now.

“Where’d you get the pry bar?”

“I went to get it before I knew you were trying to blow yourself up. Give me a hand, there’s an iron ring behind the spot where that magical doodad was.” He let me put my hand on it first, and then when it was apparent that nothing else was going to explode he helped me to pull. We tugged for a few seconds and then the paneling opened along a seam, a small cupboard was revealed. Inside were three leather bound books. The first two were about ten inches on a side and about an inch thick. The third was massive, fully eighteen inches tall and three or four inches thick, it was covered in glowing symbols, the only part of it I could read was the title, A Grammar of Lycian. The other two were untitled.

Marc started to reach in but I put my hand on his arm, “Don’t” He glanced at me then withdrew his hand. Carefully I reached in and pulled out the two smaller books; since they weren’t glowing I guessed they might be safe. I left the larger book inside.

“Is it warded?” Marc asked.

“It has something all over it, and it glows like a bonfire.” After some discussion we closed the panel and left the other book inside. Hopefully I would learn enough to peruse it safely later. It was getting late so we decided to quit for the evening. I took the two books with me to my room.

“Promise me you won’t look at them without me.” Marc had a serious expression. “If something happens while you’re reading it someone should be around to drag you away or put out the fire.”

I met his gaze and tried to be serious, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait.” A dozen smart ass comments ran through my head but for a change I kept them to myself.

Once I was safely ensconced in my room I began examining the books. I had initially intended to keep my promise, but curiosity had gotten the better of me. Since nothing had happened after opening the covers I figured I might as well see what I could discover. The first book turned out to be a journal, written by Vestrius himself. The second seemed to be some sort of book of spells, most of it was written in plain English, but interspersed were glowing words and symbols I had no experience with. It also contained a lot of diagrams. As soon as I saw the glowing parts I decided it should wait, so I returned to the journal.

My decision turned out to be the correct one. Unlike most journals in which someone writes their daily thoughts and such, this one turned out to be more like a lab notebook. Vestrius had been apprenticed as a teenager to another wizard named Grummond. The first task he had been given was the keeping of a journal, to record what he learned each day. I could not imagine anything more useful to me at this point. I began to read.

Vestrius’ first days as an apprentice were quite illuminating for me, and made it clear to me what the importance of the third book was. A Grammar of Lycian was exactly that, a book detailing the grammar and vocabulary of Lycian, a long extinct language. The journal also made clear why the book glowed. Wizards are taught to use language, written and verbal, to manifest their power. Since using one’s native tongue would be dangerous in the extreme the custom was to use a dead language. Lycian had become the de facto language of magic hundreds of years ago and knowledge of it was maintained for that purpose only. Because of its long use, even the writing had acquired a sort of residual power, which could prove dangerous sometimes even in the hands of those without the gift, but to a much lesser degree.

I resolved to collect the third book the next day; I would need to study it if I was to follow along with Vestrius’ journal.