Iggie, "Small Sorcerer"

By Laraine Anne Barker

Iggie, illegitimate son of Lazaronia's two vilest sorcerers, now both dead, believes his father Ignarius, twin to the late King Lazarone III, should have been king. Iggie, who never knew his father, goes in search of his stepfather, an outcast god (Lazaronia's equivalent of Satan) convinced Fallanein can help him claim his rightful place as heir to the throne. He finds Fallanein trapped in a place of eternal cold and darkness. But in releasing the fallen god through a rift that he makes, Iggie drowns the whole of Lazaonia in snow and ice. Even worse, he frees an evil monster, known as the Hydralon. And Fallenein isn’t the ally he hoped for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laraine Anne Barker
• Release date: May 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987665096

Laraine Anne Barker

Laraine Anne Barker has always enjoyed telling stories. As a child, when playing with dolls with her younger sisters became boring, she would make up stories featuring the dolls. She also remembers how she and her sisters wrote stories into exercise books and even illustrated them, using crayons to colour them because they found that rubbing on the crayon pictures gave them a shine similar to that of glossy colour pictures in magazines. Laraine submitted her first book (for adults) to a publisher at about the age of 21 and received a very kind rejection letter in which the editor suggested the story could be rewritten for young readers. She regrets she didn't keep the rejection and follow up on the advice. She didn't start writing fantasy for young readers until 1986. After many rewritings the book started then became The Obsidian Quest (published under the Hard Shell imprint of Mundania Press). The Obsidian Quest was a finalist in The Dream Realm Awards 2001 and was followed by Lord of Obsidian and The Third Age of Obsidian, also published under the Hard Shell imprint of Mundania Press. The Mark Willoughby series was started in 1992. Silvranja of the Silver Forest was short-listed (one of three) in 1998 for a major New Zealand prize, The Tom Fitzgibbon Memorial Award.

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About Iggie, Small Sorcerer

Despite the anxiety that made his heart thud, Iggie couldn’t help marvelling at the bizarre way the shimmering rainbow light from the tower’s famed stained-glass ceiling so far above reached right to the bottom of the otherwise windowless tower.

But what if the light was conscious of Iggie, alive to his purpose? What if it rejected him? What if it could alert Princess to Iggie’s presence, so revealing his aim of destroying the earthling usurper whom silly, deluded Princess loved so much?

He stood motionless a few moments, holding his breath, watching the multi-coloured light dance around him. Ready to flee at the first sign it might mean him harm, he prepared to reach out to it with his mind ...

Iggie, son of Lazaronia’s two vilest sorcerers, blames his earthling foster father for their deaths and is about to set out on a quest for vengeance, the consequences of which will threaten to destroy the whole land.

Chapter 1

Iggie bit so hard into the stalk of honeygrass he had just picked that the sticky juice spattered all over his hands. His scowl deepened. They want to take Iggie’s name away, Argentsia—all he has left in the world—and call him Marcus! But why should Iggie have to bear the name of the hateful earthling usurper?

The silver-white unicorn, whose horn of barely thirty centimetres showed she was little more than a filly, raised her head from the lush summer pasture. The horn flashed silver in the sunlight.

With thoughtful dark eyes she regarded the boy, noting that his slim adolescent figure was about to start filling out. The wildness of his long black hair made him look more like a porcupine that had been prodded than a member of a royal household.

But for Prince Mark I’d be dead. All unicorns would be dead. Without him our world would be galloping to its end. Argentsia sent her unwittingly reproachful message in mental images in the manner of all unicorns, who had developed the ability during countless centuries of being hunted to near extinction.

The fury on Iggie’s face lessened. He flung his arms around Argentsia’s neck in remorse. Oh, Iggie hasn’t forgotten all that. And he’s glad for the unicorns. But he killed Iggie’s parents, remember. And in spite of that they expect Iggie to call him Father!

Argentsia knew the self-styled prince didn’t need reminding his parents had been the vilest sorcerers Lazaronia had ever known. Nevertheless she did so, for she had become increasingly aware of his anxiety to deny the fact. She made her images as vivid as she could.

Iggie should forget them—forget they ever existed—just as Prince Mark no longer retains memories of his former life, she advised.

Iggie’s face had suffused with anger at the suggestion his parents had been evil, but now he gaped at her in horror. Argentsia is saying the earthling usurper doesn’t remember he’s an alien?

Argentsia nodded. The Goddess Lazaria thought it best for Prince Mark. Only the unicorns and the dragons remember. And of course Queen Esmé, her mother Esmeralda and her grandmother—your grandmother. But they won’t remind him.

Iggie bridled. Well, Iggie will!

However, the little unicorn knew this possibility would have been taken into account. She allowed the suspicion of a twinkle to enter her eyes. Have you tried?

Iggie frowned in deep concentration. Finally he nodded, confessing with obvious reluctance, But somehow Iggie never managed it.

Argentsia twitched the hide on her shoulders in an imitation of a shrug, a skill she had copied from Iggie. Well, then, why don’t you accept the Goddess’s gift of forgetting too, since remembering only makes you miserable?

A cunning glint entered Iggie’s eyes. Ah, but did the earthling usurper choose to forget?

No, I don’t think so, Argentsia was forced to admit.

Well, the earthling usurper might be easy prey for the meddling Goddess—that silver-eyed freak!—but Iggie’s made of sterner stuff and won’t bend to her evil will.

Knowing that only the boy’s resolve neither to forgive nor forget stopped him accepting the young Queen and Prince Mark as his parents, Argentsia’s uneasiness deepened. The unicorns wish you would accept the gift of forgetting, for the sake of your own happiness and peace of mind.

The boy’s black eyes flashed. Iggie’s happiness and peace of mind depend on remembering everything they did to his parents. And Iggie intends to have his revenge.

How will you do that? Argentsia tried to project an air of unconcern into her images, but every hair on her body prickled. She suspected Iggie’s inborn powers of sorcery, though immature and seemingly now inert, were not to be regarded with indifference.

Iggie will overthrow the earthling usurper and take his rightful place as King.

But Prince Mark isn’t the King. He’s only consort to Queen Esmé, who’s our sovereign by right of birth, Argentsia reminded him.

Iggie bristled, stamping the ground like an outraged stallion. No! No! Princess isn’t rightful sovereign. Iggie’s father Ignarius—not his uncle, the one they call Lazarone the Third— was rightful king, so therefore Iggie is legal heir to the throne.

You speak treason, the little unicorn warned. And Ahlita is the heir to the throne. How could you even consider robbing your foster sister of her birthright?

As Argentsia intended, Iggie’s indignation instantly collapsed. He sank onto a boulder at the feet of the snowclad mountains towering behind him, and put his head in his hands. Argentsia could feel his anguish, so close had their secret bond become.

Oh, Argentsia, Iggie doesn’t know what to do! Iggie wouldn’t hurt Ahlita for worlds. But revenge against the earthling usurper who turned him into an orphan burns within him like a fire that won’t go out.

Revenge has a habit of hurting only the one who harbours it. And the longer it’s harboured the more viciously it hurts. The images Argentsia sent were grim enough to haunt Iggie for the rest of his life, although her message was sad and gentle rather than violent. She knew nothing she could say would turn Iggie’s mind from his horrifying path of self-destruction. I think perhaps it’s time you went home.

Iggie looked almost comically dismayed. Argentsia is tired of Iggie’s company?

Of course not. I’ve grown to enjoy human companionship. It’s just that we’ve been together today longer than usual and my mother has probably already missed me. Unicorn society isn’t like in the days of the Godking Lazarone the First. Unities of unicorns were large then, and a wandering unicorn might not be missed for some time. Besides, my mother wouldn’t like us meeting in secret like this. She’d be afraid you’d have a bad influence on me.

Doesn’t Argentsia want to see Iggie again, then?

Argentsia looked at the crestfallen boy thoughtfully, feeling his intense disappointment as though it was her own. He couldn’t possibly exert any bad influence over her. But maybe she could influence him. Certainly somebody had to keep an eye on him, steer him from a senseless, possibly dangerous course of vengeance. It might as well be her. Of course I do.

However, Argentsia didn’t yet have her mother Silvranja’s wisdom. She wasn’t to know her well-meaning decision to disobey would lead to disaster.

Chapter 2

If you want the Duchy of Mirakklon and the legal right to be addressed as ‘Your Grace’ you’ll have to change your name, Prince Mark insisted. The people of Mirakklon won’t accept any overlord bearing the name Ignarius. And it isn’t only Mirakklonians who object. The entire land is against your present name. Only my assurance you aren’t like your father stopped your nomination being rejected outright.

Iggie forgot he was trying to be respectful and scowled at his foster father across the silver tea service, placing his cup on its saucer with a rattle that made Prince Mark wince.

He’d make the usurper recognise himself as an alien this time. Nothing would stop him getting the words out! You didn’t have to change your name. Even Korennsyon changed his from whatever outlandish earth name he bore before he married Queen Siana.

Prince Mark looked puzzled. Why should I need a name change? The name Mark Willoughby identifies me as the One Marked by Willow. But obviously if an earthling wanted to marry a queen who was also a goddess he would be expected to adopt a Lazaronian name.

But you’re an earthling, just like Korennsyon. There, he’d got it out!

He had the satisfaction of seeing Prince Mark look as though he had been struck in the face. Don’t make stupid allegations, young man. And don’t change the subject. The fact remains the people of Mirakklon will accept you as Duke solely on condition that you change your name to Marcus—their choice, not mine—and stop referring to yourself as a prince. Only boys born to the sovereign are princes. It was your idea, remember, to bear some of the burden of royal duties, now that you’re approaching manhood and beginning, in your own words, to feel useless and bored.

It was also Iggie’s idea the Duchy of Mirakklon might be the ideal starting-point, Iggie added mentally. Perhaps it would be easier to let the people have their way. Being known officially as Marcus was surely a small price to enable him to get revenge on this pompous earthling who dared try taking his father’s place. He would still be Iggie, son of Ignarius. And he could easily keep his real name to the forefront of everybody’s mind. He struggled to stop his expression becoming smug.

Yes, sir, he said, meekly and respectfully, as over the years he had steeled himself to address his foster father.

Prince Mark looked at him in exasperation. Yes, Father, he corrected, though rather mechanically, for this form of address had been Queen Esmé’s idea and Iggie knew Prince Mark wasn’t keen on it. And is that an agreement to a change of name?

Yes, sir.

The Prince heaved the biggest sigh Iggie was sure he had ever heard. Good. At least that’s a beginning.

Then may Iggie go, please, sir? It’s story time. Ahlita will be disappointed—

Prince Mark interrupted. And that’s another thing. It’s time you stopped that ridiculous, childish nonsense of referring to yourself in the third person.

Iggie affected to misunderstand. Please, sir? He injected his tone with as much puzzled innocence as he could. To be taken to task for insolence would ruin everything.

In future you will use the pronouns I and me when referring to yourself, not your name, either old or new. Is that clearer?

Iggie put on a hurt but submissive frown. Yes, sir.

Prince Mark sighed again. But his tone softened. Very well. We’ll talk later when I’ve made the arrangements for your investiture. And now you’d better go to Ahlita.

Thank you, sir.

Savouring the knowledge that his enemy didn’t know what to make of him, Iggie rose. He bowed deeply before backing from the room—a formal and servile departure that he knew annoyed the Prince Consort even more than the few times when he forgot himself and allowed