The Old Magician
I met the old human in the wilderness between the Dragon Mountains and my homeland. He was accompanied by four of his followers. He was dressed in the dirty robes of a magician and rode a tired, stubborn mule, seeming content to ride along at whatever pace the animal wished while a T'skrang and another human attempted to coax the beast into a faster gait. They, too, were clearly magicians, as was the third, an elf. As I approached, the fourth moved to intercept me, a young human dressed in leather armor. He glared at me menacingly, but the old human spoke in his own tongue, and the younger frowned and stepped back.
"Greetings, urthmun", he said in accented Throallic, using a term I was unfamiliar with. I noticed that the group seemed to press closer to the old one and the armored man fingered the hilt of his sword. He gave me little cause for worry, but the old man's casual demeanor did little to assuage my uneasiness. I could see nothing to indicate their chosen disciplines, but so many mages together could mean nothing good. I forced myself to appear relaxed and deliberately kept my hand from my axe. "We are travelers to Throal, seeking one known as Merrock, but we are lost. Can you help us?" Merrox, of the Hall of Records?
"Indeed, old one, you are traveling in the correct direction, Throal is to the north, but the Badlands lie that way. For what reason do you seek the recordkeeper of Throal?" The old human looked at me carefully.
"I have magic, magic against the horrors. I wish to impart it, that others may be saved." He spoke simply, with a trace of sadness in his voice. The armored human cried out sharply and began to speak excitedly. "My grandson," he said with a wry smile, "does not think we should trust an urthmun like yourself. I apologize. He has never seen one of your race. Thank you for your help, but cannot turn aside now." He waved his hand and the two who had been pushing the mule commenced. The mule had become comfortable during the moments rest and strongly resisted.
"Excuse me, old one..." I began, "If you take a simple detour to the east, you will bypass that cursed place entirely. If I may be of assistance, it is said that I have something of a knack for dealing with animals." He looked at me quizzically.
We made very good time traveling toward Throal. We passed the Thunder Mountains and left my home territory. The old man told me his name was Cadam, and he told me of his home land, far to the southeast. He told me of his self-imposed exile, dedicated to the study of magic and the workings of natural proccesses. This study had led him to the creation of a great many magic spells. He was traveling in the company of his grandson Drathin, and his students in his discipline, Feremith the T'Skrang, Nitin the human, and Asper the elf. I told them of my homeland, of the Horrors I had encountered, and of the Blades of Dawn. I became acquainted with all of Cadam's students, and found them to be good-natured and dedicated to the old man and his teachings. Drathin was a different matter, he was cold and aloof, never speaking more than a word to me, even though he spoke Throallic better than his grandfather.
One night, very near Urthik's Passing, we were settled in by the campfire. I began to tell Cadam of Urthik and his sacrifice. As I finished, he began to speak.
"Urthmun Rutegur, such a sad story. I know all too well how you feel. It is Drathin who has convinced me to come to this land, because of what has happened. As I have told you, I have given my life to the study of my magic. I can grant healing and strength to those in need. But in my works, I have discovered many things. I can repair essences. The power is incredible and it is difficult. I did not realize it when I first came to success. I had spent many months on the making of the magic. So when I finally found it, was convinced it would work, I sent for my brother and my son. Drathin loved my brother, he was named for him and trained by him. We had always called him Small Drathin ever since he was a child." He smiled, a wistful expression, then looked to me again. "I had found the key, and I was certain it would work. There was a village nearby where a small girl had been found wandering the countryside. Drathin, my brother had gone to get her, for she had been touched by a horror and none would take her in. So we brought her to our home. I sent for everyone, not just my brother, son, and grandson, but all those I had trained. And I began the spell, to free the girl from the horror's influence. To pull the horror's taint from her essence. However, I failed, and the horror felt it. It came and attacked us. We were surprised, but we fought it. My grandson and I survived, as did a few of my luckier students. The horror slew the rest before we could drive it away. The mistake was costly, and it is not one I have repeated since. But the knowledge must be preserved. So we travel to Throal to give it to the Library there."
It was that very night that I first encountered the Horror. The elder human had need of a campfire and I had taken my post outside the light of the flames to keep watch. Before I had even counted an hour, I saw a black shadow rise up at the edge of the fire's light. The creature wavered for some time, then retreated. It did not appear to see me and its presence seemed weak... still, I did not deign to give chase.
"It is as you say," sighed Cadam. "The dark one whose taint we sought to drive out now seeks to destroy us. It has been content to chase us this far only because it still feels the pain of the wound that Drathin inflicted on it. I see that you are skeptical friend urthmun, but Drathin is probably one of the most powerful... I'm sorry, there is no word for it in the language of the dwarves. Like my brother, he is one of those who seek to cleanse the world of the corrupt essences. When he strikes at their essences, even adepts feel extreme pain, but those creatures whose essences come from dark planes like Horrors or other spirits may lose their hold on this one or even collapse under his blade. When Drathin was able to strike, his first slash rent the Horror's being. It was probably the first real pain the creature itself had actually experienced, not like the pain of a wound to its body, and it fled. However, it is powerful and becomes bolder with each passing day. Drathin was sure he can defeat it, but I am sure it will not make the same mistake twice." Even to me, he looked very old then.
"I think it is time we turned back," I said to him after we sat in silence for a time. He looked at me and then nodded. "There is a place where the Horror cannot go."
Thaumaturge -- Cadam's Discipline
Spirit Slayer -- Drathin's Discipline
This page hosted by 
Get your own Free Home Page