Path of the Magi: The Chronicles of Covent: Book One of the Adventure Series: Adventure Series, #1

By J. L. Ficks and J. E. Dugue

*****BOOK ONE OF THE ADVENTURE SERIES***** 
Two young mages set out from Phendyrimoth’s tower. The world has changed. Magic has been abolished. Magehunters hunt down the waning magic order. The recent graduates struggle to carve out a new path in a far darker world than they remembered and tumble into a adventure all their own. A faun, a giant and a lady in need take them on a quest from the fabled Enchanted Wood and beyond to the fiery mountains of Doruggdoom...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mirror Images Publishing
• Release date: Sep 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536525007

Book preview

CoC-Logo

Path of the Magi

By J. L. Ficks & J. E. Dugue

Cover Art by Ben Wootten

& Ilich Henriquez

Logo by James Gilks

Map by J. L. Ficks & J. E. Dugue

Font Dugue by Hannah M. Erhardt

Font Romance Fatal Serif by Juan Casco

MIP-Logo

The Chronicles of Covent™

Book One of the Adventure Series:

PATH OF THE MAGI

Kindle Edition

Copyright © 2016 Mirror Images Publishing

Copyright © Chronicles of Covent™

All Rights Reserved

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of any material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Mirror Images Publishing.

The Chronicles of Covent™, the Triloriad™ & Homespun Fantasy™ are trademarks of Mirror Images Publishing. All Chronicles of Covent™ characters and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Mirror Images Publishing.

Printed in the USA

First Printing: June 2016

Mirror Images Publishing

1105 Kings Mill Road

Normal, IL 61761

U. S. A.

Come see us on the web at chroniclesofcovent.com

Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements

To my son, Everett Sheridan Ficks, my daughter, Emiyln Jeanne Ficks, and to my niece, Jayde Alexis Ficks. Our days pass us by like wind. Take no day for granted and remember your maker.

~J . L .

To my beautiful wife, Lindsey M. Dugue and my wonderful son, Isaiah M. Dugue. You kept the fire from going out under my dreams and to my mother and brother who always believed in me.

~J . E .

Sylvane Map

Sylvane-Thumbnail.jpg

Click to visit the online interactive high resolution map only at the

chroniclesofcovent.com

Prologue:

The Parting

Phendyrimoth thrust his staff into the sand and all were hushed. The wise old wizard’s glowing white eyes swept over the small crowd of chatty students, the eyes of a god incarnate, or so men believed. He forced his students to wait and soak in the full meaning of the commemoration, yet that was one of the ways he taught, not always in words, but in significance. They watched as their master’s long white beard rustled against his cheeks and his purple robes flapped wildly in the late summer arctic winds of the Haraglace.

Not a word was spoken on the isle for ten straight minutes.

The crowd waited, shifting impatiently, under the immense gloomy shadow of Phendyrimoth’s tower—home of the most infamous magic school of all Covent.

Finally, Phendyrimoth raised his staff and stepped forward. He smiled and gripped the shoulders of two young, but accomplished mages. Davril, Edronius, I bid you both a fond farewell, he said. He brushed his long white locks from his old careworn face and wiped away a single tear. You have been two of my foremost students. I shall regret losing you. He looked out over the large gathering of students, each one expectant, eager and a little jealous. I look forward to hearing of your achievements in the years to come. Make me proud.

Master Phendyrimoth. Davril bowed in his customary stoic grace. It has been a true honor. He wore his father’s plate armor proudly that he had polished to a mirror shine. The blue steel armor had been laced with white trimming and bore a white lion, the standard of Doljinaar, on his breastplate. He also carried his father’s long centurion sword and a kite shield emblazed with the symbol of a sword speckled with stars. The young warmagi raised his head and fixed his earnest blue eyes on their master.

Phendyrimoth stifled a nostalgic chuckle as the young man kept straightening his unkempt hair as it blew helplessly in the wind.

We shall never forget your teaching. Edronius, the dusty blonde haired mage, bowed next. His ordinarily flashy golden brown eyes regarded his master coolly. He clutched an ornate iron staff capped with a small crystal ball, set into a molded beast claw. The crystal swirled with a wild crackling magic. His robes were the color of the Red Robed Order.

Phendyrimoth grinned broadly. He would never meet another pure-caster quite like Edronius. The lad sported a few random pieces of bronze gladiator armor over his robes, but that was just Edronius. The mage had grown up near the arenas and always had a streak of rebel in him and yet he somehow managed to wear the odd combination with style and confidence.

Phendyrimoth stared at the two for a moment. He pulled his lips tight until they all but disappeared beneath his moustache and beard. Never forsake magic, his voice was intense, almost manic, she is worthy of our lifelong affections and devotion. You must cling to her…serve her, but be careful. The world has changed. Men have forsaken magic, vilified her. They have used her and thrown her out onto the streets like a common whore and as such they no longer tolerate those who remain faithful to her.

But, Master, where should we go? asked Davril.

That is entirely up to you now. I am no longer the keeper of your destinies. You can find refuge in Mindrasteral if you wish. You must enter by way of one of the Twelve Gates hidden throughout the land. There you will find the tattered remnants of our order.

We will, Master, Edronius nodded.

Be warned, Phendyrimoth added, if you choose the way of the gates. The Order has changed. The rift between light and dark robes has widened. You will find naught but the light robes in Mindrasteral. Their prejudice escalates. Many fine magi have they pushed from the Order. The dark robes remain in the Kurn sewers, but beware of their black temperament. Many paths lay open to you. Now go.

Davril and Edronius bowed.

The crowd bid them a fond farewell and waved them off, but the two graduates weren’t ready to say their final goodbyes just yet. They turned and walked to their two closest friends standing in front of the crowd. Both students adorned night black robes, the color of the most forbidden of magic orders, the colors that had divided the magic order in two, but they were good friends. The prejudice that had taken root deep in the heart of the order didn’t exist out here, not on Phendyrimoth’s isle. Only here did magic still walk in balance.

Gashyra’s long black bangs clung to his hard angular dark features. He was noticeably tall and the air of his presence overshadowed the other black robe, Findrol, who hid behind him. Gashyra’s firm jaw spoke of his unyielding drive and glowing confidence. Davril felt relief when Gashyra smirked at him. The black robe’s dark brown striking human eyes stared back at him. For this, Davril was thankful because Gashyra came from mixed roots. Whenever he grew angry, his pupils dilated to resemble the unnerving gaze of a dragon.

Davril had never been fully sure what to make of this unexplainable transformation. He had never met a man with the same problem as Gashyra, but he suspected his friend had some inhuman blood in him. His critics claimed a monster lived deep inside him, but Gashyra had won over Davril’s trust, Gashyra had won the trust of all of their friends. Whatever the case, Gashyra was truly gifted and soaked in magic like no mind Davril had ever known. Findrol the short, shy teenager with big mousy ears peered around Gashyra.

Gashyra, Davril nodded, take care of yourself.

Edronius gave Gashyra a playful nudge with his elbow. And don’t hesitate to humiliate those cocky Brothers Anrelon!

Gashyra smirked, I will miss you two. I wish we were all ascending the final levels of the tower together.

Davril tried to embrace Findrol, but he stepped back in hesitation.

Findrol blinked back tears, but tried to remain strong like Gashyra. I really wish you didn’t have to go, he said and hung his head.

We all knew this day would come, Findrol, said Davril.

Findrol swallowed hard, I know.

Edronius broke the awkward silence. Then let’s not drag this out.

Farewell friends, when you see me next I’ll surpass the power of even our esteemed master, Gashyra said half-joking.

Ha! Davril laughed, I’m sure you will, Friend.

Goodbye, Findrol. Edronius headed to the ferry and waved. Goodbye Gashyra!

Davril bowed and ran off after Edronius.

Terrik, the ferryman, waited at a small sturdy wood sailboat. Davril ducked under the sail and took the far seat. Edronius remained standing. The crowd started waving and shouting them off again. Davril saw his master raise his hand in a final salute as Terrik shoved off. Edronius stumbled and then fell back in his seat. A thick fog drifted in as Terrik paddled away and turned the sail into the wind.

This isn’t goodbye! Findrol ran along the shore calling to them, Gashyra and I will see you as soon as we get done with the tower! We promise!

Davril shouted back, I’m sure you will, Findrol…

The pair watched as the tower slowly faded from view and the fog swallowed it.

I can’t believe this is actually happening, Davril shook his head, after seven long years we are finally leaving it behind.

Seven years?

We ascended to the Seventh Level, remember? One year for every level, he reminded him, so yeah, that’s how long we’ve been there.

Edronius sat back and shook his head, Funny, I’ve been so caught up in studying that I completely forgot about the rest of the world, forgot about Sylvane.

Davril grinned, And that we once called it home.

He feigned shock. So you mean to tell me, Davril, that the sky is not made of brick?

The warmagi laughed and leaned back.

Do you think Gashyra and Findrol will make it to the Tenth Level?

I’m sure they’ll do fine. Those two are like brothers.

So, what’s next?

Davril hesitated. He had a plan, but he hadn’t filled his friend in on it yet. Edronius would most certainly object. I don’t know, he replied, we’ve been shut up in that tower for so long, now that I’m out, I just don’t know what to do with myself.

Edronius sat up and leaned forward. Well, I have an idea of something we might do.

Davril sat back up. Edronius, I thought we talked about this.

Come on, old buddy, his friend said and slapped him on the knee, the new gate is not far from here. It’s on the way no less. In fact, it’s practically begging for a visit.

I’m not sure I want my first venture outside the tower to mean our deaths, Davril frowned fiercely, those gates hold guardians of unparalleled magic, Edronius.

You mean to tell me, Warmagi, that you’re not even slightly curious whether the guardians will accept us now? Edronius used Davril’s new title and leaned in as he spoke, We are graduates of Phendyrimoth’s Tower. The most famous wizard alive exalted us to positions few dare dream. Come on, Davril, Mindrasteral awaits us.

And for what? You heard our master—a world of politics await us in Mindrasteral.

Davril, you know I have very little interest in that stuffy old council. What interests me are those gates! Just think what access to those portals would mean for us. We could go anywhere in all of Covent. Open up endless doors of possibilities!

This is all grounded in the assumption the guardian doesn’t kill us first. The last guardian was a colossus if I remember correctly.

That gate was made by Master Phendyrimoth himself, he put in, I’m sure the council couldn’t match such mastery.

Perhaps not, but what about the combined casting power of the rest of the council?

Have a little faith, Davril, Edronius cocked a smile, you said yourself you don’t know what to do now that we’re out. Either way, he stood up and made a show of turning his back, I’m stopping with or without you. I’ll go it alone if I have to. It’s your choice.

Davril bit his tongue. He knew what he wanted to do, but he just didn’t want to argue about it now. Edronius had put him in between a rock and a hard place, banking smartly on the knowledge that Davril’s old fashioned and downright stubborn loyalty would never allow a friend to go it alone. The warmagi sighed. Sometimes a man’s worst enemies were his friends. Alright, we’ll stop, he said, but we walk up to the gate and the moment something goes south we run, got it?

Hey, it’s me. Edronius spun around and sprawled back on his seat. Remember?

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Davril thought. He said aloud with obvious reluctance, The Darum Gate, Terrik.

Now since that’s settled. The mage leaned back and stretched out across another seat relaxed.

Davril shook his head and bit his lip in frustration. He watched as his friend pulled up his hood and settled in for a long nap. Maybe Edronius was right and they had nothing to worry about. Phendyrimoth’s Tower wasn’t a school set up in the traditional sense. Yes, it had ten levels, but the tower was designed to allow each student to ascend as high as his or her own abilities. A student was a full-fledged mage by the fifth level, a Master Robe by the seventh and by the tenth level Phendyrimoth would name only one master pupil. It had become clear from a very early time in the tower that person would be Gashyra.

Davril supposed that Edronius and he had nothing to be ashamed about. Few students had ever ascended as high in Phendyrimoth’s Tower as they had. Of the original class consisting of forty-two students, most had failed out at the junior levels, and only four had continued past them to the Eighth Level: Gashyra, Findrol and the Anrelon twins. He felt an overwhelming sense of pride and yet he began to wonder whether staying would have been a far wiser choice in preparing them for the trial he had just unwisely agreed to off the cuff.

He looked out over the rolling seas for any sight of mainland. The ferryman skillfully sailed the boat through the rocky bluffs of the Duvildarum Waterways, a rock-strewn maze of coastal isles that separated the great continents of Sylvane and Witherglace. Davril could not see past the thick coastal fogs that divided him from his homeland even in mid- summer. Home. It seemed like a foreign country to him now. It had been so long since he had slept in his own bed. He felt a cold sweat creep up under his armor as he realized he might not make it home after all. He felt suddenly and terribly homesick.

Davril knew what kind of powers guarded these gates. What had he been thinking? He could only pray that they would not be forced to face another colossus like the guardian of the Witherglace gate. How had he let Edronius talk him into such a suicidal idea? He had beheld the living manifestation of magic at the last gate and the memory haunted him still. He glanced back over at his friend who snored loudly.

What have you gotten me into, friend? Davril leaned over and gently patted Edronius on the knee. You’re going to get us both killed someday. Let’s just hope it’s not today.

Chapter One:

The Gates of

Mindrasteral

Davril could not sleep a wink. He sat up in the boat and pulled a red hood out of his travel pack, running his fingers over the flashy gold lining inside the hood. It did not look like much. Nothing more than two pieces of fine glossed velvet stitched together, but the hood was the mark of his highest achievement. He had been a proud member of the Blade Order since he was a boy. He had been called a Bladecaster, a warrior of both weaponry and magic, but it was this hood that distinguished him from the rest of his order.

Only the highest and most powerful of the Blade Order adorned the hood—the Warmagi. He could still recall the first warmagi he had laid eyes on back home. The mere sight of seeing that shining warrior adorning that velvet magician’s hood had caused him to idolize this simple piece of cloth all his life. The shedding of a one’s helmet in favor of the magi hood was symbolic of a warmagi’s rise above a traditional warrior’s need for material protection. And yet, as he stared at the tiny idol in his hands he could not help but wonder why he felt so worried.

I am Warmagi, he whispered aloud as if to breathe power back into the ancient title, but the words echoed with a hollow resignation. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He was the youngest Warmagi in Covent’s history and yet he could not tap into the same excitement that had stirred in his veins in his youth. He had dreamt of earning the hood his whole life. He had falsely assumed that the title would grant him a sense of empowerment and invincibility. He was wrong.

The boat rocked from side to side, waves splashing violently against the side of the hull.

Davril grabbed hold of the rails and gritted his teeth. Chills ran up his spine. He had never liked sailing and the Duvildarum Waterways were filled with rocky tidal waves. Countless isles and bluffs surrounded them in every direction and Davril feared they would run aground, but Terrik masterfully guided the craft along. Of course, that didn’t stop the boat from the occasional rough waters. A flock of Haragulls passed overhead, calling down on him as if in heckling laughter. After all, he was a grounded creature and they flew wild and free.

An even taller wave crashed against the boat’s side, kicking up a spray of seawater that splashed in his face. The fierce Haraglacial winds blew his well-tended hair beyond any hope of repair. He grimaced and fought against the urge to comb his hair. He always hated it when the wind blew his hair out of place. It represented the lack of order in the world and he was a man of order and discipline. The boat quieted, but the effect was done. He felt so belittled by nature’s prevailing breath.

Davril slipped the hood over his head and glanced over at Edronius. The mage still lay sprawled comfortably across two seats snoring loudly. Davril’s brow furrowed. ‘How does he do that?’ he thought, ‘Seconds away from the trial of their lives and Edronius sleeps like the day he was born?’ He thought of his friend and all his accomplishments.

Master Phendyrimoth had been so impressed with Edronius’ natural gift for Combination Magic he had bestowed upon him the legendary title of High Combine. The old wizard had declared that the mage’s mastery over Combination Magic was so complete he did not even need to take the tower’s Eighth Level. Edronius had jumped at the chance to put his feet back on the road again. After all, they had been cooped up in that stuffy old tower seven years and the red robe had begun to grow restless.

Even Davril struggled to wrap his mind around the illusive concept. Combination Magic was a highly controversial idea. It was not a magic realm in the traditional sense. You could not simply open a spellbook and memorize a spell. Rather, Combination Magic was the art of fusing dissimilar and even contrasting magics together into manageable and functional spellcraft. Its practice was both wildly unpredictable and dangerous. Combination Magic had become increasingly frowned upon in the tenured magic community, due to its potential self-destructive nature, but their master disagreed. He believed it taught a valuable lesson in understanding the full spectrum, the balance of magic.

Phendyrimoth’s views had been considered increasingly radical since the years he stepped down as council head, but Davril felt that the old mage knew magic better than anyone. It was hard for even the council to argue with Phendyrimoth’s immense knowledge since his blood had been kissed by the gods. The old wizard’s blood had permitted him to live over a thousand years longer than mere normal men, which granted him unprecedented additional years of magic study. Davril eyed his best friend and weighed in on his master’s glowing praise. The warmagi realized he sat in the company of a friend who had burgeoned into a legend and yet he wondered whether even that would be enough?

We’re here, said Terrik from the front of the boat.

Davril exhaled deeply. He looked out across the waters and spotted an isle lined by rocky cliffs. He could not make out anything of importance atop the bluffs, but then again the remote isle that housed Phendyrimoth’s infamous tower didn’t look all that important either. A small wood dock stretched from a beach littered with scavenging Haragulls and sea lions sunbathing in the fading summer weather. Yet the isle looked otherwise deserted. The sea lions barked and began a massive exodus back into the ocean.

The ferryman brought the boat up to dock and hopped out.

Davril turned back to Edronius to rouse him as Terrik moored the boat. He jumped slightly. His friend’s seat was empty.

The mage waited for him on the dock. Edronius leaned casually on his staff and his hand was already extended. You coming?

Davril shook off his surprise. He took his friend’s hand reluctantly and pulled himself up. I still don’t think this is a good idea, Edronius, he said, only Master Phendyrimoth could safely pass through the gates.

Much to the chagrin of the new ruling council, Edronius mused, that’s why we too shall succeed in this endeavor.

Master Phendyrimoth has studied magic for nearly two thousand years, remember? he replied, His veins are blessed with the blood of the gods. We could study our entire lives and not grasp even a wisp of the knowledge he possesses.

Gashyra used the gates and he’s a Black Robe.

That’s different, Gashyra is well, Gashyra.

I think you underestimate our abilities, Friend. Edronius clapped him on the shoulder. The last time we tried was years ago and we’ve learned so much since then. I am High Combine and you are Warmagi. Surely, not even the guardians can refuse us now.

High Combine, Davril grinned, I’ve got to get used to calling you that.

And I have to get used to calling you, Warmagi.

Perhaps you’re right and we’ll be permitted to pass this time, but we still need to proceed with the utmost caution. Do remember the guardian at the last gate?

The last gate was the guardian, Edronius chuckled and winked playfully at Davril, let’s just hope this one has a lesser guardian.

You mean let’s just hope it’s not some great and powerful guardian but some silly little magic pimple perhaps?

Right, the mage chuckled, a quirky smirk crawling up his lips. Edronius did not waste another minute. He strode down the dock and made his way across the beach startling flocks of Haragulls.

Davril shook his head and started after his friend. He jogged to catch up and the pair headed for a sandy embankment that led up the side of the bluffs. They reached the top of the bluffs and paused as they looked out across a massive plateau of sedimentary rock rich with deposits of broken seashells and fossils. Small tidal pools had formed here with coral and fish still trapped from last spring. The fish were small and hid among the rocks from the gulls.

A circle of stone markers inscribed with runes encompassed most of the plateau. A lone sea cave, more a twisted outcropping of sedimentary rock stood at its nucleus. Wind howled through the cave mouth, humming with a most unnatural glow, swirling with a crackling cobalt magic. The sea cave must have been the Darum Gate, a magic portal, one of the twelve Gates of Mindrasteral and the doorway that would grant them access to all Covent.

Davril stiffened. He had seen only one of these gates before on the frozen continent of Witherglace. Phendyrimoth had originally created two gates: the prototype in Kurn and the connecting gate in Witherglace south of his tower. This gate had been built years later by the High Mage Council because the Witherglace Gate did not always heed the will of the reigning council. It also had been built far south in a remote location chosen by their old master and had a propensity for getting snowed in. Many credited the great Phendyrimoth with two successful castings of the Greater Powers, but he denied such grand achievements.

It had taken the combined power of all the rest of the council to mimic Phendyrimoth’s original design. After Phendyrimoth abandoned the council, the High Mage Council forged another ten gates scattered throughout the world. The fact that Davril’s old master had not created this gate really bothered him. Naturally it didn’t seem to faze Edronius one bit. The students at the tower had used the Witherglace Gate on several occasions with their master, but never this new gate. While at the tower, Phendyrimoth had forbidden any student from using any gate without his supervision or express permission.

Of course, that hadn’t stopped Gashyra. Davril had to remind himself that Phendyrimoth was no longer their master and the old wizard himself had suggested they come this way. Edronius’ robes brushed past his ankles as he stepped over the stone markers without hesitation. The runes on the markers glowed eerily as if suddenly alive, flaring in seething agitation. Davril eyed the cranky enchantment nervously. This gate gave the appearance of being unguarded just like the last one. He did not like this. He did not like this one bit.

Edronius, he said, didn’t we agree to be more careful?

The mage ignored him.

The warmagi cursed and stared after his friend.

Edronius was halfway to the gate.

Magic hummed right through Davril’s armor.

Edronius, that’s too far.

How do we know we can’t use the gates unless we try and pass through?

Davril blinked. His friend had a point, but he wished there was some other way. He waited thirty feet back and watched his friend, his hand on his sword.

The mage reached the gate and headed directly for the swirling magical portal. There you see, Edronius looked back and grinned, nothing to it.

The two friends staggered suddenly. The earth quaked violently, cracks spider-webbing through the sedimentary rock.

Edronius! the warmagi shouted.

The red robe’s eyes widened.

‘Oh no,’ Davril thought and rolled his eyes, ‘here we go again.’

Edronius skidded backward in his sandals and jammed his staff into the ground to catch his feet.

Davril stared at the sea cave, waiting for it to break free from the ground and rise to hundreds of feet above like the other gates. Instead, the earthquake mysteriously stopped. A tiny ball of cobalt light rose from the heaving rock humming like a buzzing insect. It flew in jittery circles around the cave mouth almost playfully and seemed somehow strangely alive. It fluttered up to Edronius and touched his nose.

The red robe laughed. It tickled. Hey look, Davril, he joked, a magic pimple.

The floating light buzzed loudly as if in anger.

The warmagi frowned uneasily.

Who is it that disturbs my rest? the little light flew up into the air again and said in a tiny munchkin voice.

Davril furrowed his brows in confusion. What? This wasn’t what he expected at all. Something was wrong.

Hey look, Davril, Edronius shot him a glance, beaming with glee, no monstrous guardian, just a silly little ball of light!

Careful Edronius, Davril cautioned.

You are most unwise to rouse the greater magic! the little ball of light said angrily.

Edronius brushed his knuckles bored. Ah yes, cheeky little puff ball, we seek entrance into the Gates of Mindrasteral and an audience with the High Mage Cou—

You have violated the sacred circle, the light warned.

Yes, yes little light, the red robe said with some impatience, hurry up and open the gate. We don’t have all day.

The light growled. You trespass on forbidden ground.

We are not trespassers. I am a High Combine and this is a Warmagi. We have risen under the tutelage of the great Phen—

You two are not known to me and yet you boast of titles long vaunted by the inferior orders of magic tradition, the light peeped.

Edronius snapped back, I was telling you if you would just let me finish, you rude little light.

Little? I grow tired of you calling me little, the light flared up angrily, I am not as small as you suppose, puny human.

Puny! Edronius snarled and raised his staff, I ought to squash you, you little glow bug!

Edronius! Davril barked.

I’m sorry, Edronius said, rolling his eyes a bit, we humbly request passage through the gates, great and powerful guardian.

I do not like you two, the ball of light said, leave this place or you shall awaken my anger.

We’re not leaving here without going through the gate, the red robe insisted.

I’m warning you! the light shook crossly.

I’ve had about enough of this, Edronius threw up his arms and stomped past the light toward the gate, we’re going in with or without your approval, you annoying magic pimple!

Edronius no!

The light started shaking, glowing brighter and brighter.

Look at this thing, Edronius gestured at the orb, what’s it going to do, Davril, twinkle at us?

These things could be like Trites, Edronius! Davril warned.

You were most unwise, the ball of light screamed, most unwise to test my anger! The light sunk into the ground, its voice now echoing with a terrifying boom. The earth shook again.

Davril and Edronius fell to their knees.

I think you made it angry! Davril shouted.

Suddenly, the rocky sea cave burst from the ground revealing an even more enormous mound of coastal limestone. The heaving mass shook violently from side to side, shaking off rubble and loose sediment. The air filled with dust. The extra dirt and grime fell away revealing a colossal skull carved into the limestone. The giant rock-face opened a pair of glowing eyes like the once tiny light—pits of cobalt flames blazing in empty eye sockets. Blue clouds of magical fire spewed from its rocky nostrils and disgorged from gaping stone jaws.

Davril gulped, fingers digging into the earth. He trembled in shock and awe. Fools! This guardian too was a colossus!

YOU WOULD DARE ROUSE THE GREATER MAGIC! the giant rock skull roared.

Davril stammered, but his tongue twisted into a knot. The two friends stumbled back to their feet.

The ground heaved even more violently. A huge rock arm tore itself from the sedimentary rock, slamming its giant fist down, pushing up and breaking the gate from the isle.

Davril and Edronius fell backward and tumbled downhill.

An even greater mass broke from the ground as if a mountain was rising to its feet. The earth groaned and crumbled, breaking into massive heaps of rubble. An even greater towering mound wrenched itself free, filling the air with choking clouds of dust. It rose higher and higher into the sky until it seemed it would scrape the very clouds. Large chunks of rock and debris rained down from high above.

Davril and Edronius scattered. Boulders and rubble broke and smashed against the ground. The two mages barely escaped injury,

The dust cleared and the towering form of a six-hundred foot colossus loomed over the mages. Its giant body was a seething mass of huge hunks of sedimentary rock, coral growths, seashells and long strands of dangling kelp—all tightly held together by wet packed sand. The gate still swirled with bright cobalt magic high above, but formed part of the rock giant’s massive right shoulder. The colossus hunched over as if the gate was an enormous tumor growing out of its shoulder. This guardian was no less jaw-dropping or terrifying than the ice colossus they had encountered at the other gate all those years ago.

Davril trembled with such wild hysteria his knees wobbled and banged together with such intensity he nearly fell back down.

YOUR WORDS ARE STAINED WITH ARROGANCE, BUT HOLD A GRAIN OF TRUTH, the colossus roared, THE SWEET PERFUME OF MAGIC I SMELL ON YOU, WHICH IS THE ONLY REASON I HAVE NOT CRUSHED YOU ALREADY BUT YOU WOULD DARE TRY MY PATIENCE. MUCH ANGER YOU HAVE STIRRED WITHIN ME!

Davril and Edronius froze.

The colossus raised its gigantic foot. A shadow fell across the mages’ traumatized faces as the stone giant boomed, SPEAK LEST I CRUSH YOU UNDERFOOT!

NO WAIT! the warmagi threw himself to his knees and pleaded with his hands, Please forgive us! I beg you!!!

SPEAK!!!

Great and powerful guardian, Davril groveled before the great magical being, we beg your forgiveness! My friend knows not who he insults in his arrogance. We humbly beg access to the gates so we may aid in the defense of magic.

The colossus removed its giant foot and slammed it down in a show of force. The ground shook as its monstrous voice rumbled, EXPLAIN YOURSELVES!

Davril rose shouting up at the towering figure, We just graduated from Phendyrimoth’s tower where we studied under the legendary Phendyrimoth himself. We have been well-trained and are prepared to aid magic in the time of its greatest plight.

Phendyrimoth is known to me, the colossus boomed, he was once head of the council, but many things have changed since he stepped down. The council no longer trusts him. He turned his back on the order at the time of magic’s greatest need.

But why do the gates still grant him passage? Davril objected.

The gates still grants him passage because his magic is great, but the council no longer suffers Red Robes or blade-wavers to pass! the colossus boomed.

What? Edronius butt back in, But why? We are not dark robes! Our robes have not rebelled against the High Mage Order! We fought, bled and died at your side at the Fall of Mithrelmora! We have as much right to Mindrasteral as any of the light robes.

You have to ask, Red Robe? the colossus glared down cobalt eyes ablaze, You who dabble in both the light and forbidden black magic arts have the nerve to ask why you were so justly banished? the giant pointed down at Davril, And him, if he had not shown the wisdom to respect powers greater than himself I wouldn’t even have bothered to address a simple-minded blade-waving dabbler!

Edronius clenched his fists and shook them at the colossus, But our magic is great!

The scent of magic is strong with you two, yes, the colossus corrected, but your magic is not great.

What does that mean? the red robed screamed.

I have lost my patience with you, the colossus shouted, NOW BEGONE OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO DESTROY YOU!!! The guardian stooped over and pushed its hands deep into the ground. The isle shook again, snapping and splintering. Davril turned to flee, figuring Edronius was right behind him, but his efforts to escape were more like an awkward stumbling over loose stone. The colossus ripped an imposing stone sword from the bedrock and raised it overhead.

No! Edronius growled back.

The warmagi shot an anxious glance back behind him. It’s over Edronius, he ran back to his friend, grabbed his arm and tried to drag him away. let’s go!

NO! Edronius shouted, staring up at the colossus defiant, WE CANNOT LEAVE! I DEMAND TO SPEAK WITH THE COUNCIL AT ONCE!

This is your final warning! the colossus rumbled. NOW YOU SHALL DIE! The giant swung its colossal sword downward.

Davril grabbed Edronius and the pair tumbled out of the way. The sword smashed into the ground kicking up a cloud of dust and rubble, but missed them barely. Davril shook his head. It was a dreadful mistake coming here, a dreadful, dreadful mistake. The two friends scrambled back to their feet, gaping upward.

Run! Davril shoved Edronius hard and took off running. He glanced back over his shoulder. He exhaled in relief as he saw his friend had enough sense to split and flee in the opposite direction.

The stone sword smashed into the ground and missed them by bare feet. Bedrock buckled and caved in, but somehow they kept moving. The pair made for the boat. The earth