Cleric's Revenge - Chapter one

Chapter One

Dav entered the dimly lit passageway. Weak yellow light shone from plain oval crystals, set into the coarse gray stone walls. Beads of water glistened on the smooth, faded stone. The sharp bite of salt blended with the stench of fish accosted his nose.


Blocking the passageway stood a weathered oaken door, its blackened wood dully shone in the dim light. Magical symbols glowed, a faint reddish color, against the deeply scratched surface. He approached it cautiously. His master’s private room lay beyond. His fingers traced a series of triangles in the air before the door. The dark wood gleamed with a dim blue light. The door was shielded with a spell to prevent entry, a protection spell.


Dav thought of the power that he would gain with his master’s spells. He had been an apprentice for the last ten years. In all that time Olan, his master, had never trusted him with any spells of power. He was told to be patient. When he achieved the proper skill, he would then be given more powerful spells. He couldn’t wait any longer. His youth was at an end as was his patience.


He had to get past that doorway without setting off the protection spell. His delicate fingers began tracing a complex series of circles flowing into triangles. Softly reciting the incantation that would dispel the protective power. The timing was critical; the smallest mistake would set off the spell. A yellow glow suffused the doorway. He stepped up the pace of the chanting. Sweat dripped down his brow, landing gently on his nose. The magic called to him. Energy coursed through his body, enhancing his senses. Bringing his hands up he touched the door. The glow surrounding the door blazed to an azure blue then faded into darkness. Success, he was in.


Mages, he thought, trusting that their magic was supreme wrinkled their noses at using anything so mundane as mechanical locks. Dav lifted the iron latch and swung open the door. Peering into the darkness inside, he spoke several sharp words and the room was bathed in a bright red glow. His eyes took in the small sparsely furnished room. There wasn’t any implements to work with, no vials, containers or any of the usual magic devices present in any Mages room. With only a crudely built cot and a tiny round table to work at, he knew no master slept here. Fire welled up within him, spreading into his cheeks. He couldn’t be mistaken. This had to be Olan’s room; he had followed him here on many occasions. Perhaps, the old man was smarter then he thought. Maybe this was a diversion and a hidden entrance lead to his master’s suite.


Dav ran his well cared for hands over the rough surface of the stone walls. Grit dug into his soft uncalloused hands. The stones were well inlaid. There were no large cracks or seams in the wall. Stepping back, he overturned the cot and found nothing hidden there. He hated to have to use his magic for a seeming simple task. Each spell that he cast drew a little more magic from him, replenished only by relearning the spells from his book of spells. Every mage carried a book of spells, in it was every precious spell learned by them. To lose one’s book was to cease being a mage, powerless until it was replaced. He would need all of his magic to open his master’s spell book. Then he would have the power that his master had withheld all these years. Maybe, he would even let him live. Perhaps, allowing Olan to be his apprentice, so that he could watch him beg for magic.


Cursing his own bad luck, he started chanting in a low voice. His right hand traced a seven-pointed star into the air. It glowed a bright crimson. Quickening the pace of his chanting, the star started to slowly rotate. The chanting increased in volume and the star danced with its rhythm, bouncing up and down to the beat. A crimson beam shot out and fell upon the back wall. Touching the wall where the beam shone he found a small stud. Pressing it caused a crack to appear in the wall, Dav forced it open and entered his master’s suite.



Entering his master’s room he beheld a richly decorated room large enough to hold four apprentices and all their meager possessions. A large bed with scenes depicting dragons fighting armored men, in all their glory, was carved into the wooden headboard. The red velvet bedspread was haphazardly strewn on the bed spilling onto the hard marbled floor. A gnarled oaken chest lay at the foot of the bed. It’s highly polished surface a striking contrast compared to the dull weathered oaken doorway. Dav’s eyes found the treasure that he so arduously sought: a massive book, ornately drawn gold runes gleamed from its black bindings. It rested upon a twisted wooden stand. Now I will have my reward.


Dav’s eyes scanned his master’s spell book. He would have to be very careful; the book would be magically protected. Concentrating, he quietly intoned certain syllables, his fingers tracing a series of unseen circles before the book. A blazing sphere of white light winked into existence around the massive spell book. Four green points of light were visible within the sphere. Ah, a shield spell. Cast upon the book four times, multiple casting gave more power to the spell. This will be tough to get around.


Dav fell into a sitting position, taking several deep breaths to clear his mind. He started chanting to a steady rhythm, his fingers tracing elaborate helical designs in the air before him. Slowly the air around the book became charged with golden flickering stars. Sweat poured into his eyes causing a blurring of his vision, threatening to break his concentration. His pulse pounded in his head. He had to break this spell soon; his energy was rapidly failing him. No, he wasn’t going back to begging for magic. The chanting took on a life unto itself, the words running together. The air swirled, crackling with golden bolts of blazing electricity. A dazzling flash momentarily blinded him. The book lay naked upon the stand; no sphere of energy surrounded it. Finally, his master’s book was his. No longer would he have to cower at the feet of lesser men. Power was his to command.


Dav’s fingers caressed the supple leather cover; gently he traced the runes carved upon it. He grasped the heavy black cover and slowly opened the book. An acrid musty smell assaulted him. Dust tickled his nose. A stark ivory page greeted his eyes. Again he gently turned the stiff linen carefully so as not to cause damage to this great treasure. Another blank page met him. What trickery was this, no dark symbols adorned the pages?


A red glow surrounded the book, reaching out fingers of energy. It was drawn toward Dav extending itself to gently touch his arm. Blinding pain shot up his arm and slammed into his brain. Dav’s world collapsed into complete darkness.

By Mythrannia