Silverstone Part Two: A Mage Revealed

By J.J. Moody

Ben Silverstone has been swept through a dark portal in his school swimming pool, and has found himself in a strange land where magic looms in the hands of powerful mages.
As he begins his quest to find a way home, the path taken through the realm will lead him to new friends, fantastic places, and within the grasp of grave danger at every turn.

In the exciting Silverstone series, Ben must journey far over great snowy peaks and through the darkest caves, explore the most majestic cities in the land, and build alliances and find trusted companions in a world fearing his kind if he is to survive.
But to find the path back home his quest will take him to the most dangerous place of all...
The Silverstone series tells a sweeping story of friendship, family, adventure, and imagination. It will be published in several exciting parts, each the length of a short story.

Silverstone Part Two: A Mage Revealed is the second part of the series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.J. Moody
• Release date: Jul 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994611215

J.J. Moody

James’ passion for fantasy writing and film stems from his youth spent travelling the world, and drawing from its spectacle. He currently writes in space between the everyday magic surrounding him, and the glorious deeds and epic battles of a career in finance.Silverstone is his exciting debut series of young fantasy short stories, which will be published separately as well as combined in a full-length trilogy of novels.James aims to connect as thoroughly as possible with readers by encouraging active feedback, which dynamically affects events and outcomes of the Silverstone series.

Book preview

SILVERSTONE

Part Two: A Mage Revealed

J.J.Moody

All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

First published July 2016 by James Moody

Copyright © James Moody 2016

ISBN 978-0-9946112-1-5 (EPUB)

www.silverstonestory.com

CONTENTS

Chapter Four

The Wisecrinkled Man

Chapter Five

The Blue Lady

Chapter Six

Evander

From the author

Q&A

Chapter Four

The Wisecrinkled Man

Ben had been walking for more than an hour.

At first he had walked north for a mile or so from the Peregrine camp, following a well worn road between the gentle green hills. The birds had chirped a merry morning greeting to him as he went.

Then when he'd reached a path turning east and up hill, he had followed it, entering the denser woods that shaded the foothills to begin the climb up to the ridge of the Drumald range.

The woods were thick, and the air dense and cold. It smelt of moss. The light from the morning sun did not penetrate much through the canopy, and there were no more birds cheering him onwards. It felt like he had stepped from a bustling street into a somber cathedral.

Ben remembered what Alder had said about bandits in the foothills. He tensed, and slowed. His eyes searched around the trunks and branches. He listened for anything stirring amidst the soggy leaves, or between the fallen twigs that sank like bones of fallen trees, slowly receiving their burials.

Nothing moved. A bird whistled far away.

He edged forward along the path, every crunch or whistle making him freeze, while he looked around carefully for signs of a bandit attack. He was a fawn, watched by hungry predators. Besides outlaws, what sharp toothed, red eyed, dark furred thing lived here?

The pace was slow.

Ben stopped mid stride, hearing a cracking somewhere in the distance.

He thought of the hooded man he had fought off with the Peregrine. There would be cruel laughs when the group found him and carried him away to their base deep in the darkest forest for a proper fate. Since he had injured one of them they would no doubt treat him with ingenious savagery. He would be tortured sadistically first, and then – he stopped himself.

He should have just hidden in the boat under the pile of oars.

His thoughts moved on to the Peregrine. If only they could see their celebrated battle hero now, he thought. Barely able to move he was so convinced disaster waited for his next step. He felt terribly ashamed.

Ben’s body was as still as the forest, while his mind ran for miles in all directions.

But finally he completed his step.

He managed another stride forward, then another. Movement might ease the dread, soften the ache. But the lifeless air pressed. Stale trees surrounded him, fixed in hushed stares. He looked ahead to a turn, and scenarios played out like horror shows, his heartbeats punctuating like channel switches.

Every step plodded fanned his fear.

The panic was unbearable. His breaths were shallow and fast.

Finally he came to the bend.

Nothing was there.

Nothing but the same stupid silent forest.

He sighed a deep breath, and almost laughed.

He was too young to have a heart attack, wasn't he? He felt his chest for the heartbeat.

He looked up ahead to the next corner. Plodding up to it would just result in the same awful anticipation. The torture he would exact upon himself just by walking along would be worse than any bandit devices.

He adjusted his sling over his back, wiped his brow, and broke into a steady jog.

It wasn’t long before he was feeling much calmer. He breathed heavily up the steep path, and sweat dripped from his brow. But he was confident he was fit enough to manage the pace, and pressed on, pushing himself harder and harder.

The turns came and went, and soon he was barely noticing them.

Finally the woods began to clear, and thick beams of sunlight breached the canopy further up the hill in the distance. The forest grew lighter, and sounds of life returned. The ridge was not far away.

He emerged from the trees and onto the grassy high slopes. The peak was up ahead in the distance, beyond a rocky section of the ascent. Its outline was sharp against the clouds.

But almost immediately the wind picked up.

At first Ben slowed to a jog, but was soon forced to a walk by the power of the wind. Gusts swept over the ridge and tumbled down against him like the ghosts of a great avalanche. Soon he could move only sideways, probing for a softening in the mass of wind that might let him through.

He clutched his shirt and sling close, and bent over almost double to force his way forward. He angled his body, trying to reduce the surface the wind could catch.

Although Ben made some advances, progress became ever more difficult. Grass gave way to large boulders atop unstable gravel. The smaller pieces leapt against him, stinging like a stony hailstorm.

As he climbed an especially large boulder a strong gust caught, and his stomach lurched as he struggled to avoid toppling backwards, down to the trees. He bent low and looked back, down the rock-strewn slope.

What had Alder been thinking? This way was obviously not the least bit easy. Not unless you happened to be a very streamlined mountain goat. Had he been right to trust him? What had Alder said that first day they'd met in that tiny tent, and Ben had told him the truth about where he'd come from? About what would happen if Ben found a Mage and learned magic. That then he might become a friend no longer. An enemy of the Peregrine, and an enemy of Alder. Was it such a stretch to imagine him sabotaging Ben's search and sending him up here to his doom, to be murdered by brigands or blown off a cliff? The old man was probably chuckling in to his bowl of stew in delight at the success of his scheme.

Even if Alder hadn't tricked him, could he have simply missed a turn somewhere in the woods, or amongst these rocks? In the forest he had been worrying more about ambushes and a slow and tortured death than minding his way, and beyond them he'd been concentrating on fighting the violent wind. He peered back to the point where the path broke out from the tree line, and retraced its snaking route up to where he crouched. It was clear that the road led to his position. And back in the forest - well it was possible he'd missed another path, but Alder had only mentioned one, and he didn't like the idea of retracing his footsteps to make sure anyway.

Then again perhaps this was simply what the Peregrine farmers defined as an easy path up a hill. After all, they tended their herds in the hills around the camp, and had migrated from place to place after the great plague, so they would probably have scaled much worse