The Phoenix Ring(10)

Edwin could feel the boy weakening even as the fight began. It was not a  question of if the warlock would win, but when. When the sphere was  less than a foot from the boy, he made a stupid mistake and opened his  eyes, losing his concentration further.

The warlock decided to end it. He said a little incantation that would  give the boy a nasty surprise when the magic touched him and then  prepared himself for a final burst.

That was when the boy saw something. Edwin did not know what, but he  knew it was bad. He knew what anger felt like, he had dealt with many  angry mages before. And he knew from experience that anger was the best  way to boost magic.

Then the boy turned and looked him straight in the eye. The warlock gave  him his most confident smile. Edwin expected a surge in power, but he  couldn't expect what happened next.

The boy's eyes turned white. Not the white like some fish, not crossed  with veins. A perfect, beautiful white, glowing like the stairway to  paradise.

What Edwin felt in the magic wasn't a surge, in fact it was far too powerful to be described in the language of Sortiledge.

I haven't felt that since the days of …  But that can't be!

Then the power washed over him and completely overwhelmed him. And for  the first time in sixty-three years, Master Edwin, the greatest warlock  to ever live, was totally, entirely powerless.





5





Aidan was standing alone, in a small meadow surrounded by trees. The  grass was green, and the sky was blue, it was a perfect day. Aidan  looked down at his hands, they were fat and chubby. He jumped, dazed and  confused, and stared at the trees, which seemed to be three times  taller than normal.

Where am I?

He felt like he was forgetting something important, but he couldn't  remember what. Then, very faintly, Aidan could hear someone shouting  from the left. He began to run through the trees, mosquitoes buzzing  around him and low branches smacking his face.

Finally, he came over a hill and everything clicked into place.

He was standing on the same spot he had been standing on nine years ago,  on a hill overlooking a village. On that day, a crowd had gathered to  watch the only public execution to ever take place in Aidan's village. A  man that had often been caught stealing from the other villagers had  gone too far, and had stabbed a woman. She would live, but just barely,  and so the villagers could no longer overlook the thief.

There had been a small gallows constructed in the valley, and the  blacksmith had been the one selected to do the actual task. The man had  been masked, so Aidan had never seen his face.

But there was no blacksmith now. Instead, it was Edwin that stepped onto  the platform beside the man. The warlock's eyes locked onto Aidan's,  and he smiled the smile that Aidan had come to hate.

Then he pulled back the man's hood.

It was Jonathan.





Aidan screamed and sat up in his bed, sweat pouring off his body.

"It's alright, he'll be fine," someone said next to him.

He turned his head and saw a familiar figure.

"Malachi?"

The man's face wrinkled. "Do I look like that sorry excuse for a warlock to you?"

Aidan refrained from answering that.

"It's Amilech, you fool! He gets made a warlock, and I'm stuck as a  wizard, does anyone ever get HIM confused with ME? NO!, I'll tell you … "

He continued to ramble to himself as he went out the door and slammed it shut.

Timothy laughed, and Aidan jumped again, not realizing that he had been there.

"Don't worry, he may the crabbiest old man, but he's a fantastic healer. And he's not quite as …  odd as my master."

Aidan fell back against the bed.                       
       
           



       

"What happened?" he asked.

Timothy leaned against the back of the chair that seemed to appear whenever it was needed.

"I don't even know, I was hoping you could tell me. Oh, and so are half of the wizards and mages in the camp."

"What did it look like? And did I win?" Aidan asked.

Timothy chuckled.

"Oh, you won alright. The evaluation was three days ago, and-"

"Wait, I've been out for three days?"

"Yes," Timothy said, "Now be quiet and listen. Edwin is still powerless.  He can't even light a candle with magic right now. All we know is that  your eyes turned white, and then this massive wave of power just  engulfed Edwin. He was knocked out too. Even if it had just been an  illumination you would have done well."

Aidan kicked off the blanket.

"How's Eleanor?"

Timothy closed his eyes.

"Not well. She blames herself. You see, Jonathan took the entire  training time to teach her how to use magic and master a Soulrock, and  never focused on himself. He always wanted to be burned on a hill, which  is how they take care of heroes' bodies, but they're going to dump him  in a lake, which is pretty much the opposite of what he wanted."

Aidan pulled on his sandals and thought for a moment.

"Where are they keeping the body?"

Timothy's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Either you can tell me, or I can go ask someone else."

The younger boy considered for a moment before giving up. "I'll show you. Follow me."

The two boys left the boys' quarters and walked, for the first time, around the back.

It was the middle of the day, and the sun was shining beautifully over the perfectly weeded grass.

There was an old, dilapidated cottage type of building, sitting drearily in a garden of daisies.

"Alright, he's in there, but you can't go stealing any bodies," Timothy said.

"Don't worry, I don't plan to." Aidan said, closing his eyes.

"Good because you're already in a huge amount of trouble, and-"

He was cut off as the cottage exploded, flames arching high into the  air. Aidan turned around and walked away with a smile on his face,  leaving Timothy speechless on the lawn.





The boy has gone too far this time.

Edwin stood behind the boys' quarters in a heap of ash that had once  been the storage facility for the recently deceased, his robe billowing  around him in the wind.

He knew the boy had done it. A wizard that had arrived at the scene not  more than a minute after the fire had started claimed he had seen a pair  of footprints leading to and from the cottage. The old building had  burned in just three minutes, yet all the wizards had seen the plume of  smoke.

Edwin's position was in more jeopardy than it had been in years. None of  the wizards in the camp were very happy with him, and, though no one  knew it, his standing with the council was not very good either.

The warlock had not known that the Gerangs' father worked directly for  king Lief. Both he and the dwarven warlords were willing to remove him  from his position, only the Elven Chief had not cast his vote, though  Edwin was willing to bet that if something did not happen soon, he would  be discharged within the quarter.

This can't happen, I've worked far too hard to disappoint the master now.

Edwin began to walk as quickly as he could towards the adult quarters,  yelling at two of the apprentices that had begun to follow him.

Ignorant little whelps, I can't wait for the day I get rid of them.

Edwin muttered a spell as he approached his door and it opened without a  sound. As soon as he was through, it shut with a bang and the candles  lit automatically.

Powerless? I'll show that boy powerless. No one can keep me from my magic for long.

Edwin's rooms only had one window, in the living area. The warlock  preferred that people not see what he was doing. He walked to his fire  place, which was as empty as always, and muttered a quick spell.

The bottom of the fireplace dropped out, revealing a long, dark hole into the ground, with a ladder on the side facing Edwin.

It was a tight squeeze, slightly tighter than the last time, but somehow  the old man managed it. After twenty long rungs, Edwin finally fell in a  heap onto a floor of cold, wet cobbles. He knew the room was exactly  fifteen feet long and wide, and seven feet high. There was only one  piece of furniture in the room, a stout wooden table, upon which sat a  candle and a rock the size of a fist.

Edwin hesitantly walked to the table.

"Ingo," he whispered.

The candle lit up, casting a beautiful haze of light across the room. The only part of the room that stayed dark was the rock.

It was hard to tell whether the rock was purple or black, since it  seemed to suck up the light around it. Edwin really didn't care.

"Master?" he said, hesitantly.                       
       
           



       

There was about a full minute of silence as the message was transported to the other end and the reply came back.

"What is it, Edwin? You had better have a good reason for contacting me."

And so the warlock related to him all that had happened in the past few weeks, starting with the death of Gerang.