Chapter 1

A Spark Of Magic

A lone horseman rode at a moderate pace down the stone surfaced, coast road of the Kingdom known as Sutherland towards the castle of the then current ruler, Roderick the 22^nd. Roderick was the most recent ruler in an unbroken line of absolute monarchs reaching back as far as memory or recorded history documented. The day was mild and clear with a cool breeze blowing off the nearby ocean to the rider’s left. The rider’s direction of travel was true north. The horseman was of medium height, whip slim, with blond, almost white hair worn in a stylish tail tied with a black velvet ribbon. His eyes were a luminous blue and piercing with intellect. His pleasing features included an aquiline nose, a strong cleft chin and a generous brow. He was dressed all in black. His trousers were of soft black leather of excellent quality and cut, worn over plain black riding boots with raised heels. His plain black tunic was also of fine material, cut loose to cover his well-formed body of corded muscle and sinew. His black cape was of the finest silk, but conservatively fashioned as well. The duel adornments on his person were a pure gold bracelet encircling his left wrist, cast into an eternity link pattern and a natural Aquamarine crystal with a small diamond set in the top, hung around his neck on a fine but sturdy gold chain.

As the rider approached the castle’s drawbridge, the well-armed and wary guards came to an immediate alert, but as soon as they recognized the horseman, they waved him through. He nodded to the guards with courtesy, but refrained to stop for converse. As he rode over the lengthy drawbridge, his big black stallion’s hooves clip-clopped loudly on the heavy wooden trestle. He passed under the forbidding, steel portcullis, on through the hundred foot long gray stone entry tunnel and into the bailey. The bailey courtyard was extensive, measuring every bit of a hundred thousand square yards of hard cobbled stone. Slowly, with purpose, he and his stalwart stallion proceeded towards the castle’s main entrance where he dismounted. A groom took his horse for stabling. Still, he had not yet spoken a single word to a living soul. He entered the castle through the grand portico, an imposing sculpted stone archway, passing vigilant guards who allowed him to proceed with but a cursory glance.

His destination was the King’s private apartments, located on the ocean side of the castle. At a moderate pace it would take him the better part of a half hour to reach his intended destination. The castle was staggeringly enormous due to the fact that most of the Nobles of the realm kept quarters there, sized to their rank, which were held for them even when they were not in residence. Over the centuries and millennia the additions to the castle expanded the already vast dimensions of the edifice to that of a large city.

As the fair-haired man walked towards his objective, he suddenly tensed up, sensing something, a change in the nature of the castle. Something was amiss. To the best of his knowledge, at this moment in time, he was the only wizard within a hundred miles of the royal castle, however he sensed something that caused him to stop and evaluate the strange variation. There was a focal point of the three forces of magic that had been absent on his previous visit. It was subtle, but real nonetheless.

Instead of keeping to his appointment with the King, he decided to follow his inner compass to discover the basis of this troubling mystery. He walked past the residential wings, past empty function rooms and the main dining hall, through marble clad hallways and corridors on to the royal kitchens. Now he was more than a little intrigued. With his interest peaked, he stopped at the kitchen’s entryway to let his senses search out for the source of power he had detected. As he stood there at the entrance, observing the bustling cooking complex, the Senior Cook took notice of the interloper and hurried up to him inquiring as to his intentions. The Senior Cook was a pale, round woman in her late middle years with wispy gray hair coiled into a bun and cheeks rosy with broken veins. After toiling day after day, overseeing the food preparation for the King, Nobles, laborers and visitors alike she had achieved the prominent status of Senior Cook. She would remain Senior Cook for the rest of her life since as a commoner she could not rise to a higher station in service to her King. Even so, her plain gray dress was clean and neat and made of good cloth which stretched across her big body. The visitor was not deceived by her soft appearance. He noticed the size of her forearms that any wrestler would have been proud to possess and the ubiquitous wooden spoon, her sigil of power, that she wielded like a saber over all those who toiled in her exclusive domain.

The black garbed man spoke for the first time since entering the castle. “What might your name be, mistress cook?”

“Ser Trillion, I am Anna, the Senior Cook. What can the Senior Wizard of all of Sutherland be wanting in my most humble kitchens?” she inquired with apprehension.

“Please do not let me disturb you, Anna, I was just wandering around the castle and could not ignore the delectable scents emanating from your kitchen. Please ignore me.”

Anna snorted like a prize pig. How could she possibly ignore the most powerful wizard in all the realm? Though she replied respectfully, “Whatever you want or need, Ser Wizard, I will be ready to favor you.”

Distractedly, he ordered her, “Please, just let me be, Anna.”

Trillion walked around the kitchen, searching for that spark of power he had sensed earlier. He strolled past the grizzled old baker hunched over a pastry table kneading dough, past junior cooks slicing vegetables and past the drudges cleaning dirty pots and pans. He turned the corner of the vast kitchen towards the hearth tended by a spit-boy, the child’s face flushed from the heat, slowly turning a full side of beef over the open flames. The savory aroma emitting from the crackling meat reminded the wizard that he had not eaten since early morning and was overdue for another meal. He put aside his pangs of hunger and focused on the spark of power originating from someplace nearby. He walked past the hearth, then turned back, astonished. He realized with a shock that it was the spit-boy. The youngster was the source of power.

The boy appeared to be no more than nine or ten years old, though Trillion thought that he must be older to be attending to the hearth. He was nice-looking, but small and fragile looking with narrow shoulders, scrawny limbs and a shock of unruly light brown hair. Both his tunic and trousers were old and threadbare, homespun which had obviously been handed down more than once. His feet were shod in old, scuffed, down at the heel boots that had seen a great many better days. When Trillion peered more closely at the boy’s face, he saw that one eye was nearly swollen shut, his nose was dripping blood and he was bruised in every area not covered by his worn clothing. It was obvious the little boy had been badly beaten. Trillion bent down to address the boy. “What is your name, young man?”

“I am Timothy, Ser.”

Even though the boy was obviously suffering from acute distress, he was calm, alert and completely self-possessed. His big brown eyes reflected none of the pain he was enduring. Trillion thought, “Quite a show of courage for a young boy who could hardly stand.”

“Timothy, who did this to you?”

Timothy looked the wizard straight in the eyes and shook his head.

“Alright, Timothy, I will not press you. Could you please tell me who your mother and father are?”

With resignation and dignity the boy replied, “I am sorry, Ser, I am an orphan. I have no parents except for Anna.”

Trillion used his magic to delve into the boy to confirm that he was indeed the origin of power he had previously sensed. “Timothy, I am a wizard and have the ability to heal your injuries. Would you mind if I did that?”

Timothy smiled and replied, “If it would not be too much trouble, Ser Wizard. I am having a little difficulty turning the spit.”

Trillion was not surprised, the boy could barely stay on his feet, let alone do his job. The Senior Wizard placed his hands over Timothy’s damaged eye and nose and a soft green light emanated from his hands. When he took them away, the boy’s nose was dry and his eye was completely healed. Trillion then moved his hands across Timothy’s body, healing as he went along, until he reached his ribcage. There he stopped and asked him, “Did you know you have three badly broken ribs, Timothy?”

“No, Ser Wizard.”

The answer did not surprise the Senior Wizard, but the placid manner in which the small boy delivered his response, did amaze him. There was a depth to this stripling that went far beyond what a lad of his years would normally epitomize. Trillion’s hands glowed with a deeper green this time and when he took them away, Timothy drew in a deep breath the ease of which produced an angelic smile from the now healed boy.

“Thank you, Ser Wizard,” he politely stated.

“You are very welcome, Timothy. I will be back shortly, but first I intend to have a brief conversation with the Senior Cook.”

“Please do not tell her I was hurt, Ser Wizard,” the little boy fretfully pleaded with the powerful wizard.

“And why should I not, Timothy?” Trillion demanded of him.

Timothy bowed his head and then looked up, directly into the wizard’s intense blue eyes and said, “I just do not want anyone to get in trouble because of me, Ser Wizard.”

Trillion was a bit confused by this reaction, but he forthrightly responded, “I give you my word as Senior Wizard of Wizard’s Keep that nobody will get in trouble. Is that good enough for you, Timothy?”

The unobtrusive boy smiled and said, “Yes, Ser Wizard.”

Trillion walked toward the Senior Cook who rushed to meet him, having kept a close eye on his movements. Trillion demanded of her, “Did you know that Timothy had been savagely beaten?”

Anna blurted without thinking, “That damn bully!” Then was aghast when she realized what she had said. She shut her mouth so tightly her lips compressed into a distorted white smear.

“What bully, Anna?”

“I am sorry, Ser Trillion, I cannot say.”

Trillion studied the sturdy woman carefully for any sign that she would eventually be forthcoming with the identity of Timothy’s assailant. Obviously she was terrified of something or somebody. By the way she had looked at Timothy, with manifest love, Trillion knew she would not allow anybody under her sway to touch the boy. Therefore, it had to be somebody with position who was capable of exacting severe repercussions on a commoner if she made an accusation. Even an accusation based on clear and visible evidence.

“Anna, as I am sure you know, all wizards are sworn to be everlastingly truthful. I give you my wizard’s oath that what you tell me will go no further than the two of us.”

Anna’s grim countenance remained fixed until she gave a short, forceful nod of her head having come to a meaningful decision. She reluctantly told the wizard, “It was Harpen, the Heir to the Duchy of Fentan. Harpen is fourteen years old, thick as a barrel and as large as a man grown. He loves to brutalize all the common boys of the castle and Timothy is his favorite victim. I swear that one day he will kill that sweet, gentle boy.” With a catch in her voice and tears in her eyes, she pleaded with the mighty wizard, “Can you do something for him, Ser Trillion? Can you protect my Timothy?”

With a frightening timbre to his voice, Trillion replied, “Oh yes, Anna, I definitely can.”

Trillion was known to be a mild-mannered, urbane man. Further, he was an accomplished diplomat, dedicated scholar, gifted administrator and the greatest wizard in all of the Kingdom of Sutherland. He despised the strong gratuitously preying on the weak. It was the antithesis of all he stood for and believed in. Trillion was sworn to follow the Wizard’s Way and did so diligently, as did every wizard who wished to remain a wizard. Simply put, The Wizard’s Way committed every living wizard to serve and protect all the people of the realm. All the people, regardless of their station or rank. And, to do the right thing in any and every circumstance. Their wizard training imbued them with an innate sense of justice and Trillion was the epitome of that conduct.

“Anna, please tell me about Timothy’s parents or lineage?”

The big cook shook her head sadly and answered, “One day almost thirteen years ago a woman, on the brink of birthing a child, crawled up to the outside door of the kitchens. There was a terrible storm that night with the wind howling and the rain falling in buckets. She was drenched to the bone and all but spent by the time she reached us. Her water had broken and she was in the last stages of birthing her baby. We did all we could for her and were able to save the infant, but the woman had consumed herself in getting to us and died birthing the baby. When we put the new-birthed child to her breast, she lit up like an angel, then with a smile that could break your heart into pieces she named the infant Timothy and took her last breath. I have raised Timothy like he was my own and if I could I would kill to protect him.” She shrugged mournfully and continued, “But as a commoner there are limits to what I can do.”

Trillion gently placed his hand on her quivering shoulder and stated, “Mistress Anna there are no limits to what I can do.”

The Senior Cook, who ruled the kitchens with an iron hand and a wooden spoon, just stood there with tears rolling down her careworn face and gripped the wizard’s hand with all her strength, relieved that now she had an ally in Timothy’s defense.

“Anna, what do you know of the boy’s mother? Who was she? Where did she come from?”

“I know not, Ser Trillion. I can tell you she was high birthed. Her clothing, even soaking wet, was costly and well made – silks and velvets. She carried nothing to indicate who she was or where she had come from. No jewelry, no belt purse, no heraldic crests.”

“Anna, when she named the baby were you able to determine her accent or something in her voice that told you of her origins?”

“No, Ser Trillion, the utterance was the merest whisper. She was dying and she knew it. She had only the strength to mouth that last and only word, her child’s name.”

“What about her features or coloring, Anna, did they appear of northern, southern or eastern derivation?”

“Her skin tone was on the dusky side, Ser Trillion, but I could not say if it was the sun or of natural aspect. Other than that, she could have come from anywhere, although she was petite and very pretty even in death. I can tell you that when Timothy came into the world he was pale as milk.”

“What of the body, Anna? Where is she buried?”

“I asked a favor of a ship’s captain I am friendly with to bury her at sea. We did right by her we did. We cleaned her up real nice and my cousin, one of the royal seamstresses, sewed her into a good piece of fresh canvas. The captain told me they put her over the side in deep water with a prayer said by all the crew. That is all I know, Ser Trillion.”

The Senior Wizard stood there with a faraway look on his handsome face. This was indeed a mystery. Once he returned to Wizard’s Keep he would have to inquire if there was a female wizard who had gone missing thirteen or fourteen years ago. He certainly did not remember any such woman, but wizards were birthed by ordinary people all the time, so that may be a dead end. However, he could and would do something for the boy’s protection.

Trillion squeezed the cook’s shoulder reassuringly then returned to Timothy who was still at the spit performing his task with renewed vigor now that his injuries had been magically healed.

Timothy looked up at the wizard with those big, tranquil brown eyes, calmly waiting at the sufferance of the notable wizard.

Trillion bent to one knee so he could be at eye level with the boy. “Timothy, I want you to look carefully at what I do,” he instructed. “Not with your eyes, but with your inner sight, your inner senses. That place where your magic resides.” The wizard then gathered the white force of the stars into his being. “Did you see what I did, Timothy?”

“Yes, Ser Wizard.”

“Now, you do it.”

Timothy concentrated then also drew into himself the white star force.

Trillion was impressed at how quickly the boy had caught on and how much of the force of the stars he was able to access. In Trillion’s judgement he was that rare wielder of magic – a natural. “Now watch carefully.” Trillion disappeared from where he was kneeling and materialized three feet to the right of where he had been. He commanded the young boy, “Now, Timothy, you do what I did.”

Timothy showing no sign of agitation at the miraculous display performed by the mightiest wizard in the Kingdom, replied, “I cannot, Ser Wizard.”

“Why not, Timothy? You comprehend what I did, do you not?” the Senior Wizard demanded with some impatience.

“Yes, Ser Wizard,” Timothy calmly replied.

“Then why can you not duplicate what I showed you, Timothy?”

“I have to keep turning the spit or the meat will burn, Ser Wizard.”

Trillion chuckled and took hold of the spit and started turning it in the boy’s stead.

“A little slower, please, Ser Wizard.”

Trillion laughed again and lessened the tempo of his cranking of the iron rod with the wooden handle that pierced the succulent meat. “Now, Timothy, you do what I did.”

Timothy, who was still holding the force of the stars in his small body, winked out of existence then reappeared three feet to his right just as the Senior Wizard had done.

“Good, very good, Timothy. You did that very well. Especially without any prior instruction. Now release the white force of the stars and observe carefully.” Trillion then drew the red earth force into himself. One of the three sub-forces of the force of the earth. “Now, you do it, Timothy,” he directed the young boy.

Timothy closed his eyes, concentrated and drew a prodigious amount of the red earth force into his core.

“Open your eyes, Timothy,” Trillion directed, “and see what I do not with your eyes, but with your inner perception.”

Trillion punched forward with his free hand targeting one of the iron buckets filled with ash by the far side of the hearth. The bucket flew backwards as if it had been kicked by a big, muscular man, landing some ten feet away. The mangled container bled ashes onto the clean stone floor. The sound of the broken bucket striking the hard surface of the stone brought the kitchen to a standstill. Without exception, everyone was awed by this magical display. “Now, you do it, Timothy,” the wizard ordered.

The little boy hesitated a moment wandering what he was going to put the ashes in if he crushed the only remaining bucket, but he complied with Ser Trillion’s directive and duplicated the wizard’s magical exhibition with the result being a second mangled bucket ending up by the first one with more ashes strewn across the floor.

“Excellent, Timothy. I am amazed that you picked up the recognition and basic use of the forces of magic so rapidly. For someone without any formal training that is a stunning achievement. Now heed my words, Timothy, if you are attacked again, I want you to defend yourself as I have taught you. But remember, only if you are attacked. No wizard is allowed to use his or her magical powers to perpetrate offensive violence against anybody or anything. This is a cardinal rule of the Wizard’s Way, never to be transgressed, under any circumstances. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

“Yes, Ser Wizard.”

“Now please take this spit back before my arm falls off.” With this amusing comment implying fallibility on behalf of the world’s foremost wizard, all the kitchen staff, who had been observing the exhibition with rapt attention, nervously laughed and returned to their duties.

Trillion got off his knee, brushed the grit off his leather pants and patted the boy on the head. Then he headed for the kitchen exit rushing to keep his belated appointment with the King. Anna intercepted the Senior Wizard on his way out and thanked him profusely. While walking with her, he declared, “Take care of that boy, Anna, I have a keen interest in him.” He left behind a worried Senior Cook who was amazed that her little Timothy could do magic, but was sorely afraid of the consequences of the Senior Wizard’s magical teachings.