Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy Read online

  The Square was originally built by the black mages as a place to sell their wares to various interests. It provided a substantial source of income for the tower and at the same time allowed outsiders a look at the tower itself. Many people who were afraid of the tower soon quelled their fears after observing it.

  The tower, although obsidian black in colour, was a picturesque multi domed structure. Each dome was a study hall or gathering area accessible to all black mages, whether apprentice, master, or arch mage. These domes surrounded a set of three higher domes, open to only master and arch mages. All the books and artifacts too powerful for an apprentice were stored here. Out of the center of these domes sprouted a tapered pinnacle, which was the arch mage council chamber. This was where the twelve arch mages made all of the important decisions. This was also where one was summoned for various things, from being assigned to quests, to punishment for incorrect use of magic.

  The most interesting part of the tower was the entrance. It was a narrow tunnel with no light on the inside. Anyone who approached the tunnel would see nothing but blackness down its depth. If someone other than a black mage attempted to enter it, they would be repelled by an unknown force. Any mage entering it would instantly be whisked into an apprentice hall or an inner dome if their station allowed it. They could then walk freely between domes as they wished. How the tower knew to distinguish black mages from others was a mystery to all except the mages themselves. Some people thought it was the rings each of the mages carried. Others thought it was the black cloaks. Still others thought it was some sort of magical spell. Kazin knew it was all of these things. Without all three of these things, the person trying to enter would be warped into a prison chamber inside the tower. An arch mage would then come to investigate and if a ring or cloak was lost, the apprentice would be punished accordingly. If the prisoner was a thief, they would be dealt with severely.

  Kazin shuddered at the thought of what kind of punishment they might use and turned away from the tower to examine the Square. It was a large circular area containing the selling booths of the three mage orders, black, white and grey. Each booth specialized in magical potions, herbs and artifacts. The booths were situated on the outside edge of the square. Slightly inset from these were the eating and drinking establishments as well as the inns. These in turn surrounded a vast seating area where perhaps fifty or sixty long benches stood, separated by aisles of carefully tended shrubbery. The benches were set up in a spoke pattern, branching away from a central water fountain. The water came from the breasts of a mermaid statue, a graceful figure curving up out of the pool of clear blue water. Many people were near the pool looking at the statue (particularly the men). Some were even making a wish and throwing coins in. For an island of sorcery, it was very attractive, and nothing except the tower itself reminded anyone that it was being run by mages. Of course, there were a lot of mages about, all of them holding a bright little flame in their hand. Kazin jumped. In his daydreaming, he had not heard the master mage give the order to resume the lesson! He quickly created a flame in his palm and looked fearfully toward the master. Then he breathed a sigh of relief as he realized that the master was busy berating another pupil for daydreaming.

  The day was nearly over as Kazin and Max took the portal back to Marral.

  “I’m burned out,” said Max wearily, “and I have one mammoth headache to boot.”

  “Me too,” said Kazin. “Why don’t we stop for a drink before we head home?”

  “Good idea,” said Max. “I’ll die of thirst otherwise.”

  The setting sun cast an orange glow on Skull Lake as Kazin led them to a plain but solid looking inn.

  Max looked at the inn dubiously. “The Rising Moon?”

  “Don’t worry,” said Kazin. “I know the owner. Innkeeper Barlow is a good friend of my dad’s. Besides, he’s always got some cold grape juice in back.”

  “How do you know?” exclaimed Max. “I’ve never seen you go in there before.”

  Kazin smiled. “In the good old days, Sherman and I knew where all the hiding places were.”

  “I’ve got to meet that friend of yours someday,” said Max.

  The inn was only slightly crowded, and the air, although smoky, was still bearable. Kazin and Max headed straight to the bar and sat down. Barlow, on seeing Kazin and his friend, immediately strolled over and leaned on the counter in front of them.

  “Well, well, well! Nice to see you again, Kazin! Come to order the usual?”

  “Hi John,” grinned Kazin. “The usual for both of us. By the way, this is Max.”

  “How’s it goin?” said Barlow, wiping his hand on a clean dish rag before proffering it.

  “Hi,” said Max, shaking it politely.

  “Jeremy, two grape juices for these fellas,” called Barlow over his shoulder.

  As Kazin reached into his pocket for some change, Barlow held up a hand. “It’s on me, Kazin, and any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” he added, winking at Max. “So, when’s the test?”

  “In a few more days,” said Kazin.

  “That’s odd,” said Barlow. “Isn’t black magic stronger during a new moon?”

  “Yeah,” answered Max. “So?”

  “Well, in about eight days, it’ll be full moon. That’s when black magic’s at its weakest.”

  Kazin and Max exchanged glances. Barlow was right! The test was scheduled for full moon!

  “I wonder if the arch mages made a scheduling error?” suggested Max.

  “I don’t think so,” said Kazin slowly. “Arch mages don’t make that kind of mistake. If anything, they deliberately scheduled the test for full moon.”

  “But then we won’t have anything to draw on except ourselves!” exclaimed Max.

  “Exactly,” said Kazin. “What better way to test your magical ability than to see if it’s within you.”

  “Kazin has a point there,” said Barlow.

  “It certainly makes sense,” agreed Max.

  Jeremy returned with the drinks and murmured something into Barlow’s ear.

  “Sorry fellas,” said Barlow, rising. “I’ve got a shipment of ale coming in at the back and there seems to be a problem with one of the kegs. Gotta go.”

  “See you later, John, and thanks for the drinks,” said Kazin.

  “No problem, Kaz.”

  After Barlow left, the mages returned to their discussion about the test.

  “Do you think we’re going to have to do some extremely dangerous spells?” asked Max.

  “What do you mean?” said Kazin.

  “Well,” fumbled Max, “what if the reason for the full moon is that clerical spells are going to be needed to heal the injured mages?”

  Kazin thought about this for a moment and concluded, “No. Sure, a cleric’s magic is stronger during full moon, but they can heal some pretty serious wounds even without the moon being full.”

  “That’s true,” said Max, relieved.

  Suddenly a large hand clamped down on Kazin’s shoulder.

  Kazin jumped. “What the-,” but the words died in his mouth as he turned to see who it was.

  “Kazin, old buddy! How are you doing?” exclaimed a huge man with long, shoulder length brown hair. The man, some seven feet tall, with arms as big as the legs of an ordinary man, gave Kazin a bear hug before he could respond.

  Max, unsure what was happening, halted the spell he was preparing to defend his friend.

  When the man finally let go of Kazin, who was wheezing and gasping, he turned to Max. “Have no fear, young mage. Kazin and I go back a long way. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Sherman Takar, at your service.” He bowed with a flourish.

  “Uh—hi,” stammered Max, awed by the politeness of the fearful looking man. “I—I’m Max.”

  “A pleasure,” said S
herman, bowing again.

  Kazin, meanwhile, had regained his breath and said, “Sherman, you big oaf! You didn’t have to kill me!”

  “You mean you’re dead?” asked Sherman in mock surprise.

  “Yes,” said Kazin, “and my mage friend is keeping my body alive with magic.”

  “Then thou art a mage of great power,” he said to Max, bowing again.

  Kazin gave Sherman a shot in the arm. “It’s nice to see you again, Sherm.”

  “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” said Sherman.

  “Nearly two years.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  “Speaking of time,” interrupted Max, “It’s time I was heading home. I’m sure you guys have a lot of catching up to do. Nice finally meeting you, Sherman. Kazin’s told me a lot about you.”

  “He has, has he?” said Sherman, giving Kazin a sly look.

  “Mostly bad,” said Kazin, returning the look.

  Sherman laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, I have a reputation to uphold.”

  After bidding Max farewell, the two friends sat down at the bar to chat.

  “You first,” said Kazin. “When did you get in?”

  “Just now, as a matter of fact. We were ahead of schedule.”

  “We?” asked Kazin, looking around the inn.

  “My caravan,” said Sherman. “Our last stop was at this inn. I was unloading the last kegs of ale out back when I saw the waiter pouring some glasses of grape juice.” He nodded toward the now empty glasses on the bar. “I had a hunch you might be here so I asked the waiter who he was making the drinks for. He said he heard Barlow call you ‘Kazin’ so I knew I was right. Then I told the waiter there was a bad keg of ale and to call Barlow in to check it out. As soon as Barlow saw me, he let me in the back way and I sneaked up on you, and here I am.”

  “Where have you travelled so far and what interesting things did you see?” asked Kazin.

  “Let’s see, now,” said Sherman. “I’ve been west as far as the Tower of Hope, south as far as the guard post at the foot of the Five Fingers Mountains, and east as far as the Tower of Stars, with a view of Five Star Reef. I’ve seen many dwarves and elves and even a few goblins, minotaurs and ogres in the mountains.”

  “Did you do a lot of fighting?”

  “From time to time,” answered Sherman. “Mostly with bandits or thieves, but sometimes with angry creatures in the mountains; especially when we were carrying dwarven gems or magical artifacts.”

  “Magical artifacts?” pursued Kazin, his curiosity intensifying.

  “Yes, even artifacts,” said Sherman. “Most of them turned out to be fakes, though.”

  “You mean you have no mages in your caravan to identify the real ones from the fakes?”

  “No. That would only arouse suspicion. If nobody thinks we’re carrying magical artifacts, they’re less likely to attack us. Besides, mages have more important things to do than go travelling with caravans.”

  “I guess that’s true. But you can’t sell fake magical items.”

  “Yes we can.”

  Kazin blinked. “But who would want—oh, I see—other unwary merchants.”

  Sherman grinned. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

  Kazin shook his head. “Not really.”

  “Now it’s your turn,” said Sherman. “What have you been up to in the last few years?”

  Kazin related the events of the past two years—his mage apprenticeship, making lightsticks in the local factory, and everything else leading up to the test which was coming up at the end of the next week. Sherman, as it happened, had some time off and vowed to be present at the completion of Kazin’s test.

  “After all,” he added, “you might even get sent on a quest and you’ll need to hire a body guard.”

  “I don’t think they’ll send me on a quest right away,” said Kazin, “but thanks for the offer; besides, I haven’t passed it yet.”

  “You will,” said Sherman confidently. “Even if I have to drag you through it myself.”

  Kazin smiled up at his friend. It was good to have him back.

  Over in a dark corner of the inn, a grizzled figure sat hunched quietly over his glass of ale, murmuring softly to himself. “You don’t think you’ll be going on a quest right away? If you and your mage friend both ‘perfect’ the test, you’ll go on a quest that will end your questing days—PERMANENTLY!” Quietly, without drawing attention to himself, he rose and left the inn.

  In another corner of the room, a burly man, young and clean shaven, had also overheard the two friends chatting. His interest, however, was not in the mage but in the warrior. So Sherman has returned home, has he? That should make things easier, at least for a little while. He rose and left, thinking of how to phrase his report to the boss.

  The celebration that night was loud and boisterous. Mr. Takar and his wife Ezra were overjoyed at seeing their son and Ezra, being totally unprepared for this visit, bustled about nervously in her kitchen.

  “Relax, Ezra!” shouted Takar from the sitting room. “I’m sure Sherman isn’t all that hungry right now.”

  “It’s no trouble, really,” responded Ezra amid the clanging of pots and pans. “I’ll be done in a jiffy!”

  “Really, Ezra-,” began Takar.

  “Don’t ‘Really, Ezra’ me, Sam!” interrupted Ezra. “Just keep the guests entertained!”

  Sam Takar sighed and smiled ruefully at Sherman. “Don’t ever get married, son.”

  “I heard that!” shouted Ezra from the kitchen.

  Sam quickly changed the subject, “Come, let’s all sit down by the fire. Randall, close those shutters over there. The breeze tonight is quite chilly.” Randall, Takar’s hired hand, quickly obliged.

  When Kazin, Sherman, Max, and their families finally seated themselves in the sitting room—all except Ezra, who was preparing a feast, and Carla, who had gone to assist her—Sherman rose and raised his glass. “To home! May everyone always have a place to come home to!”

  “Here, here,” agreed Calin, Kazin’s father.

  An unreadable expression crossed Takar’s face for just an instant before he smiled and repeated, “Here, here!”

  Everyone took a sip of their wine except Sherman, who downed his glass enthusiastically.

  “How many times have I told you not to gulp your wine?” scolded Ezra severely from the doorway with a stack of plates in her hands. Everyone laughed except Sherman, who reddened. “Obviously living away from home has made you forget your manners,” she continued.

  Sherman looked down, crestfallen. “Sorry, Mom.”

  Then Ezra smiled, put the plates on a table nearby, and approached her son, stretching to her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Of course, on a special occasion like today, I’ll let you get away with that kind of thing. It’s not as if you’re home every day.”

  Sherman smiled and hugged her, lifting her small, fragile figure up off the floor. “I promise I’ll come home more often,” he said, gently putting her back down again.

  “You had better,” Ezra warned, returning to the plates. “Otherwise I might forget how to make all your favourite foods.”

  Later as the party drew to a close and the last of the guests were leaving, Sam Takar drew Sherman aside in the hallway. “I know you’re on holiday, Son, but I need your help. I have to deliver a shipment of milk down to Arral. To ship the milk down the river by boat is costly, since most captains are more interested in shipping down to the elves where they’ll get paid a lot more. So I have to deliver it myself by road. I know you want a rest from your work and—”

  “You want me to come along?” asked Sherman.

  “If it wouldn’t be a bother. I need Randall to watch the farm while I’
m gone and the roads aren’t as safe as they used to be—.”

  “I know all about that,” said Sherman. “Of course I’ll come; as long as I’m back by the end of next week. I promised Kazin I’d be there when he completes the test.”

  “No problem,” said Sam. “Arral is only three days by road and when the shipment is dropped off we can head right back home. That should leave you two days to spare.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “Tomorrow around noon,” said Sam.

  “O.K.” said Sherman. “It’s about time I came back to help you with your farm. This will be a good start.”

  Sam smiled and slapped Sherman on the back. “It’s settled then. I’ll get Frosty to help prepare the shipment in the morning.”

  “Frosty? Who’s that?”

  “That’s Kazin’s young friend, Max. Some of us call him Frosty because he’s so successful with freezing spells. I spoke with him tonight and he agreed to give me a hand tomorrow morning. Now, let’s get back to that apple pie your mother prepared for us, shall we?”

  “You mean for me,” chided Sherman.

  “You won’t be able to eat all of it,” said Sam.

  “Wanna bet?” said Sherman, stepping toward the dining room.

  “You’re on,” said Sam, pushing his son aside and racing ahead of him.

  “No running in my house!” yelled Ezra from the kitchen.

  After the introductions earlier that evening Randall, the hired hand, quietly slipped into the background. It was easier to keep an eye on everything and everyone that way, particularly Sherman. Randall, like Sherman, was a solid, heavyset man. Although not as big as Sherman; few were that big; he was still powerfully built. He had dark hair and eyes and a penetrating gaze. He also appeared to be fairly young, perhaps in his early twenties. Anyone conversing with him got the impression that he was a pleasant, intelligent young man. That suited him just fine. They didn’t need to know his secret. Now he stepped from the shadows into the hallway where the father and son had just been talking. He overheard the entire conversation and was glad he had. He was surprised that Sherman was leaving so soon after arriving; he’d expected a longer visit than that. But maybe this would fit better into his own plans. In any case, he had a lot of work to do and needed some rest. He entered the dining room and approached Sam Takar, who was eating a large piece of pie. “It’s time I went to bed, Mr. Takar,” said Randall politely. “I’ll get up early and feed the animals so you can sleep in a bit.”