The Primordial Flame: Volume I of the Conjurer's Chronicles

By Christopher L. Anderson

The dragon Gern Vernyx has lost his fire!
It's up to Alexander and McKenna, a first year wizard and druid, to find the Primordial Flame and rekindle Gern's flame before it's too late. With the help of Lylla the unicorn, Gadagong the narpyet, Dame Emily the ghostly witch and Eclipse a dragon from the Third Plane of Hell, the two young mages journey through magical Midgard to save their family and the Imperium from destruction. On their adventure they learn the importance of trusting in themselves and in each other, but will it be enough when they are faced with the betrayal of a trusted family friend?

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450241229

Christopher L. Anderson

Mr. Anderson is a rare author who combines a scientific background with an action packed resume. He graduated from Macalester College with a degree in Physics and the University of North Dakota with a MS in Space Studies where he pioneered the aerocapture manuever used on the Mars Observor missions. He went on to fly for the USAF commanding B-52 bombers, commanded an avionics test flight as a Research Pilot and he was on loan for NASA's shuttle operations. Mr. Anderson was a Black World commander, a decorated marksman, a footbal MVP and a tournament winning Black Belt in martial arts. With a wealth of experiences to draw on, Mr. Anderson forces his characters to face the same dilemnas we face and struggle to come up with the right course of action--no matter the cost. Mr. Anderson lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and children. There he works on the lives of dozens of characters in series ranging from thrillers to youth fiction, benevolent and malevolent but each with their own sense of what the world should be.

Book preview

CHRONICLES

FOR

CONJURORS

Book 1

The Primordial Flame

A novel by

Christopher L. Anderson

You can do it!

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

The Primordial Flame

Volume I of The Conjurer’s Chronicles

Copyright © 2010 by Christopher L. Anderson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-4121-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-4122-9 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 7/14/2010

To Nathan and McKenna, who have blessed me with the greatest vocation on earth, being a parent! God couldn’t have blessed me with better kids!

You can do it! Trust in yourself, trust in each other. If you can do that, you can take on anything the world throws at you.

Mom and Dad

Contents

Chapter 1: Opening Doors

Chapter 2: Dragonsong

Chapter 3: Reunion

Chapter 4: A Terrible Secret

Chapter 5: A Memorable Wedding

Chapter 6: An Interruption at Dinner

Chapter 7: Exile in the Woods

Chapter 8: Runes

CHAPTER 9: Familiars and Divining

CHAPTER 10: Angry Unicorns and Grumpy Doors

CHAPTER 11: A Strange Sort of Schoolhouse

CHAPTER 12: Playing with Fire

CHAPTER 13: The Dryads of Elianne

CHAPTER 14: The Woodland Maze

CHAPTER 15: Crashing a Dinner Party

CHAPTER 16: An Unexpected Accounting

CHAPTER 17: A Dryad’s Dilemma

CHAPTER 18: The Road to Castle Zax

CHAPTER 19: The Fire Master

Chapter 20: Books, Books, Books

CHAPTER 21: A Long Lost Sheep

CHAPTER 22: The Amphitheater

CHAPTER 23: Scerstrus

CHAPTER 24: Eclipse

CHAPTER 25: A Parrot Gone Bad

CHAPTER 26: Discoveries in the Attic

CHAPTER 27: A Plot Uncovered

CHAPTER 28: The Lava Pool

CHAPTER 29: The Melee

CHAPTER 30: Celebrations

Chapter 1:

Opening Doors

Alexander stared at the broom so hard he thought it just might catch on fire—that’s how much he hated it. His blue eyes blazed and his brows furrowed, just like his father if he’d realized it, making his twelve year old features look frightening in a rather amusing way. Alexander still had that youthful innocence about him; too much of it to be truly intimidating—however, there was no mistaking the sincerity of his anger. He shook the broomstick with slight white hands poking out of his blue far too large robes, cursing it under his breath. Every day for six long months, he pushed that rotten broom back and forth across Professor Tawdry’s dilapidated keep. Sure, he did other chores for the old wizard, like the laundry, the dishes, picking up the laboratory, tending the herbs—he never got to actually pick them—but it was the sweeping he hated the most, and the broom. It’s worse than being at home! Even Mom isn’t this nit-picky!

That was true. Here he had to do everything, absolutely everything in a particular way. If he swept in the wrong direction, used too much soap, skipped an insignificant step in Professor Tawdry’s exacting sequence, whatever, he had to do it all over again. I thought I apprenticed to be a wizard not a scullery maid!

His studies, if that’s what you wanted to call them, were almost as bad. Professor Tawdry didn’t have him learning or memorizing spells—not even one. Instead, Alexander was relearning all of his lessons from grammar school. The professor was especially intent on Latin. He didn’t explain his reasoning; he just started over again with pronunciation, as if Alexander had never heard the language before. Even the most backwards communities taught their children Latin before grammar school! Alexander reminded professor Tawdry of that, and for his cheek, he had to recite Professor Tawdry’s favorite limericks while hopping up and down to the syncopation of the words, just so he’d get it right.

He thought he finally caught a break when the professor announced it was time to start lessons in elvish. Mom’s a druid priestess; I already know elvish! He was wrong. Professor Tawdry simply shook his head, and scolded him between chewing on his mustache and chewing on his pipe, looking at him over a pair of round spectacles. Young Alexander, there are nine distinct dialects of elvish. You won’t get very far speaking the Tulari dialect to the Sylvan queen! He’d laughed as if he’d actually made a joke. Alexander grimaced at the thought—Professor Tawdry’s quirky sense of humor was as dry as a stack of bones left in the desert for a few centuries.

There was more, much more. There were the many mortal dialects, dwarvish, secret-dwarvish, goblin, giant, demon and dragon—You can never know too many dragon dialects, it’ll save you from burning, freezing, or spending a few weeks dissolving in their belly.

That was just the spoken part of language. The writing was much worse. He shook his head and grumbled. I’m twelve, but I’m writing the alphabet as if I were six, what’s up with that? Even so, he could never perform up to Professor Tawdry’s demanding standards. The old wizard criticized everything, yet when he scrawled a note for Alexander to take to town that’s exactly what it looked like—some half thought out scrawl of spidery letters that was barely readable. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a wizard; I just don’t get it.

As the thought hit his brain, Alexander could see the hard chiseled face of his father sink into that deep, deep scowl that he used when hunting demons. Demons hated that scowl, and they generally crept back through their wormholes into whichever one of the Nine Hells they came from. Never give up, especially because it’s hard! That’s what he’d say.

That just made Alexander angrier, and he stared back at the accursed broom. What are you looking at you stupid broom! I’m stuck here with no friends, no fun and only you for company! What are you doing, laughing at me? I’ll teach you to laugh at me!

Whoosh! The straw bristles went up in flame.

Alexander was so surprised, he didn’t drop it, put it in a bucket of water or throw it outside—he just stared at it.

Well that’s an interesting way to sweep the floor, Professor Tawdry said, coming down rickety stairs. I think spreading ashes about rather defeats the purpose.

It just happened by itself, Professor, Alexander stammered, knowing he was in trouble. I don’t know what did it.

You did it, Alexander! Tawdry smiled and patted him on his head. Go put that out before you start something else on fire. It’s time for you to make some magic!

Alexander could hardly contain himself. Magic, at long last, he was going to learn magic! He dunked the burning broom into the mop bucket, placed the broomstick into the corner and rushed up to Professor Tawdry. The old wizard smiled and led Alexander to the front door, saying, I’ve a good idea where your talent lies but you never know. Now that you’ve had your first magic hiccup so-to-speak, we need to investigate all possibilities.

What are we going to do?

Professor Tawdry grabbed his staff from the closet and stepped through the door. We’re going to put you through the four elements, Alexander. He strode into the knee-deep snow, heading around the keep toward the woods out back. A stream rushed by, babbling noisily. As they passed around the keep, the water wheel came into view. It was old, slimy with moss and it groaned as if forever weary of its unending labor. They joined the path next to the stream and headed into the woods. Professor Tawdry led the way, speaking without turning his head and making it very hard for Alexander to understand him. The Professor demanded Alexander say things in a loud clear voice, but he himself tended to mutter a lot, and when he wasn’t muttering, he mumbled.

We are going to find out if you’re attuned to one of the primary elements: earth, water, air and fire, he announced as if talking to himself. "Every wizard or witch has an affinity to one of them, sometimes more than one. I am a terra-incantus, meaning I have an affinity for spells dealing with the elements of the earth. That is why I’m so well versed in manufacturing gates to the other levels of the earth or anywhere in Midgard. It didn’t start out so well, though. During my testing, I popped myself into Und, the third plane of Hell. That was an eye opener I’ll tell you!"

Alexander had no desire to visit Hell. With a growing amount of trepidation, he followed the old wizard through the trees. The depth of the snow was shallower under the trees so the walking was easier. The wizard seemed to have said what he wanted to say. Now he was quiet and Alexander asked no questions. The only sounds were their breathing and the slosh of their feet through the snow. It was quiet in a way only winter woods were quiet; a very soft, lonely quiet that made the rest of the world seem like it was far, far away. They stayed on the trail until the sound of the water wheel faded to nothing and the stream was a distant gurgle somewhere off to their left. Through the pines, Alexander spied a crumbling ridge of rock. It was slick with ice and snow. There was no way to climb it, and there appeared to be no path up the face. Professor Tawdry continued toward it anyway, and as they got closer, Alexander saw a dark shadow under a bulge of snow. It was the mouth of a cave. Long icicles hung from the upper rim, making it look like the open maw of some terrifying beast lying in wait under the hillside, waiting for some unsuspecting prey to venture too close.

Professor Tawdry stopped next to the entrance and peered in. He sniffed and pulled at his beard. It doesn’t appear that we have any visitors this year.

Visitors, asked Alexander. He didn’t like the sound of that.

The old wizard grimaced. Every few years we have a young male cave bear spend the winter in here. I lost one of my best students that way. He nodded. In you go.

There was nothing for it. Alexander swallowed hard and ducked under the icicles. It was damp and cold inside the cave. He sniffed, following Professor Tawdry’s example but he smelled nothing except wet stone. The floor of the cave was bare rock. There was little else to see in the dim light: a few old bones, scattered stones, drifts of branches and leaves blown in by the wind, and more darkness.

What do I do now? He hoped the professor wasn’t going to have him explore this place.

"I want you to concentrate and think about a single word—Terra! He tapped his staff against the stone for emphasis. It is important that you concentrate Alexander. Center all of your thoughts and dreams of being a wizard into that single word."

Alexander composed himself. He took a deep breath, and said, "Terra!"

Nothing.

Again!

"Terra!" Alexander listened. He thought he heard a slight groan. A pebble dislodged from somewhere and clattered to the floor. Professor Tawdry wasn’t impressed.

That’s enough of that, come on out.

When Alexander emerged the wizard was already making his way back down through the woods. He hurriedly caught up. Well I suppose I’m not going to be gating things in like Professor Tawdry—that’s O.k., it always seemed a bit like cheating to me.

Professor Tawdry glanced back at him, as if he’d heard Alexander’s thoughts.

At that moment, the sun broke through the clouds, streaming through the pines, making the white snow impossibly bright. Alexander squinted, crunching through the snow behind the wizard. Now where were they going, back to the keep? Indeed, Professor Tawdry led him back along the stream toward the keep. He stopped at the wide point of the stream, just before it narrowed and rushed through a channel to the waterwheel. The water moved slower and Alexander could see a brown gravel bottom and even some trout.

Get in! Professor Tawdry said.

What, in the water, I’ll freeze!

Then you’d best be quick about it and concentrate. Get in!

Alexander stepped in the water. It started to seep into his boots. The cold sent a shiver up his back.

Come on now, into the center of the stream. Be quick now, I don’t like standing out in the cold.

Alexander knew better than to argue. He sloshed into the stream, gasping as the chilly water poured over the top of his boots and struck his feet. The water crept up his calves and his thighs, which was bad enough, but the current caught his robes weighting him down and threatening to tip him over. He stopped when the freezing water was up to his waist.

Come on then, quit dawdling Alexander or I’ll have you go in and get my muffler!

Alexander gave a yelp as the water crept up his hips and hit his stomach. He was in the deepest section so he stopped, wrapping his arms around his slight frame and shivering. What do I do now?

Try not to speak with such a shaky voice, remember e-nent-see-ate! Professor Tawdry told him. "Concentrate, and as clearly and succinctly as you can, I want you to say Aqua!"

"Aqua!" Alexander stammered.

"Say it clearly! Focus now Alexander, forget the cold and say the word clearly with all of your being: Aqua!"

Alexander tried, but again his voice shook.

How are you going to cast a spell against a silver dragon who has just breathed an ice storm on you? Again, and concentrate Alexander!

"Aqua!"

Again!

Alexander took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to forget about the cold for a single moment and focus on the water. "Aqua!"

He opened his eyes. The water still swirled around him, but just as he was about to admit that nothing was going to happen it seemed as if the water dipped around him. He swore that the waters were gathering beneath his feet, lifting him. His feet left the bottom of the stream and he began to rise. Alexander felt a thrill of excitement, but then, inexplicably he sank to the bottom of the stream again.

Professor Tawdry sighed. That wasn’t much of anything, but it was something. More’s the pity, as it doesn’t bode for you being as gifted as I hoped—at least in water magic. Very well, come on out of there before I have to levitate you back in as a block of ice.

Hardly able to get his legs to move, Alexander struggled out of the stream. Professor Tawdry had turned away and disappeared behind the corner of the keep, so he had to climb the slick bank by crawling through the snow. Shivering uncontrollably, Alexander staggered back into the keep, slamming the door shut behind him. The warmth helped, but he was drenched from the chest down, and he couldn’t stop shivering.

Come along, the Professor said, and he crossed the room and began to climb the stairs.

Alexander hurried after him, knowing there was a nice coal fire in the laboratory. He almost ran up the steps behind the Professor, but the wizard snapped, Not so fast! He held out his long nailed white hand. The stairs can’t take the weight of both of us so close together—as I told you long ago, three steps back.

Yes Professor, Alexander said with a shaking voice. He tried to ignore his mounting failures, asking the question that had bugged him for the last six months. Why don’t you just fix the steps Professor?

If you knew the answer to that perhaps you wouldn’t have failed so completely thus far, Professor Tawdry snapped, and he kept right on going up the stairs. They creaked and complained under his weight. As he climbed through the hole in the laboratory floor, he turned and pointed his long nailed finger at Alexander. His voice sounded like gravel stirred by long dead twigs. The answer is the same for all of the many questions you have. You may go up these stairs a dozen times a day, but if you do not understand their limitations, they will eventually bring disaster on you. Before you can make magic you need to learn attention to detail, exactness, focus and above all patience. Wizardry is too dangerous an art for the sloppy!

Alexander was too busy thinking about getting warm to discern what the Professor meant, and as he stepped onto the laboratory floor, it seemed as if the wizard read his mind. He whirled on Alexander, his blue robes flying and one finger pointing inches from his nose. You are in an especially perilous spot my young man! You need to watch yourself.

Alexander muttered an apology, but Tawdry cut him short. I don’t mean your eagerness, young man; I mean your powers or lack thereof. He straightened up and ushered Alexander to the middle of the room where there was a large stone pedestal with a coal fire burning in it. It was Alexander’s job to stoke the fire and keep it constant. The fire not only warmed the room, it heated two of the five cauldrons that hung on iron hooks over its flames—Professor Tawdry always had something or other cooking over the fire.

There now, warm yourself for a moment, he relented. Alexander hardly had time to dry his hands over the fire before the wizard was off again up the stairs and heading for the roof. He followed as steadily as he could, starting to warm up a bit but still shaking. When he reached the top floor, the wizard was waiting. It was a dark, cold chamber. There was no furniture in it and no windows. The dark, shadowy room was crammed with fragile astronomical equipment. Alexander had to be very careful picking his way through the mess to the Professor. The wizard waited by a ladder that went up to a trap door in the ceiling.

Up you go, he said, and Alexander climbed the ladder. It took all of his strength to push the trap door open. Professor Tawdry stepped aside to avoid the falling snow. Alexander got the door open and clambered onto the roof. It was a cold and blustery place, a flat expanse of oak planks caulked with pitch but without wall or railing. It was dark and gloomy now. The clouds closed in on the world, hiding the Sun behind a flying mass of cold gray fog. Alexander began to shiver again.

Professor Tawdry climbed up behind, his robes flapping in the breeze. He motioned Alexander to the very center of the roof. That was fine, as he didn’t want to be any closer to the edge of the roof than necessary.

"Let’s try this again, now I want you to say Ventus! Again, concentrate and say it as exactly as you can!"

Alexander closed his eyes and raised his arms. He knew what Professor Tawdry wanted now, though he didn’t know what should happen if he got it right, or why he was doing this in the first place. He had to trust that the old man knew what he was doing. He took a deep breath and focused. "Ventus!"

Concentrate!

"Ventus!"

Draw it out from your mind and up from your belly!

He gathered himself. "Ventus!"

Alexander!

Angrily he cried, "Ventus!"

Professor Tawdry didn’t say anything. A low growl grew in Alexander’s ears. Professor Tawdry must really be angry. He opened his eyes, but the noise wasn’t coming from the wizard. The Professor was looking around expectantly, and as if in response, there seemed to be a fresh breath in the breeze and a low howling in the wind through the trees. Snow began to whirl about the tower, surrounding Alexander. It formed a thin haze that spiraled high up into the air. His heart leapt! Yet even as it started to grow, it died out. The snow stopped swirling and fell back to earth in a flurry of flakes, and there was nothing but the sighing of the heavy, cold winter air in the pines. Professor Tawdry’s face fell. He shook his head and stomped back to the trap door. Not much better than nothing, he muttered. Perhaps I was wrong about you Alexander. He disappeared down into the keep.

Alexander looked after him in shock. Does he mean I can’t be a wizard? It was like one of the school bullies punching him in the stomach. Alexander couldn’t breathe. Standing there miserably, he found himself unable to follow the Professor. He wanted to find some deep, dark hole and hide. He wanted to be alone with his misery. What would his parents think? Alexander knew they’d love him no less, but he couldn’t get the image of his father’s disappointment out of his mind. Everybody fails Alexander; it’s those that don’t try who are the failures. Don’t fail yourself by not trying. Have faith in yourself and give it your all!

Think of all the times dad faced demons and dragons alone, beyond all hope—he didn’t give up, and he didn’t raise me to give up either! Angrily, he shook his head and stomped down the ladder with a stern, grumpy scowl on his young face.

Professor Tawdry was waiting for him, scratching his head. I was certain there was something about you, Alexander. The initial tests were promising—they almost never lie. Yet of the four elements, the only reactions we’ve gotten were anemic at best. We did have something in the water but it’s certainly not enough to build a career on. The troubling thing is, the only element we haven’t tried is fire; and fire and water don’t mix. Those who have a propensity for one are always—always—bereft of any talent in the other. He struck his staff on the floor, and his eyes turned hard. I will not waste my time on a student with no promise. You have one more chance at this, and then— the wizard sighed and held out his arms as if at a loss for what to do.

What do I need to do? Alexander’s face was set. He forgot about being wet and cold. He wanted to succeed and he didn’t care what he had to do or what it took.

The Professor motioned Alexander to a spot on the floor in front of the firepit. Alexander moved there. The Professor stepped behind him, laying his hands on Alexander’s shoulders and straightening him out. After walking around him and eyeing him up and down—Alexander straightened and set his jaw—the wizard tapped his nail on the stone of the firepit and pointed at the flames.

Now, as before I want you to focus on the flames. Focus everything in on them, your anger, frustration and your fears but don’t stop there. He looked Alexander straight in the eye, and told him, "You can become a powerful wizard or witch by using fury, anger, and the dark emotions to channel your power, but you will never reach your full potential. Remember, everything within the Creator’s earth that we seek to control comes from one place, and that place is not a place of anger. As in the Creator himself, there is love, understanding and curiosity. Use all of your emotions Alexander, every one of them, and channel them into your word. Look into the flame and command Inflamo!"

Alexander focused, and with a renewed sense of strength, he commanded, "Inflamo!"

A spark burped from the coals. There was no other change.

"Inflamo!"

Professor Tawdry’s shoulders slumped. He looked as if he were about to say something.

Alexander shut his eyes, his anger rose within him, but then his Mother’s voice sounded within his head. The trees were her favorites, especially the birch, and they yearned to do things for her not because she commanded them. I am a steward of the forest, Alexander. I do not own it. That is for another. I seek the forests aid, not its submission. With that in mind, he thought furiously. Please flame, I tend you day and night, all I ask is that you recognize that and work with me just a little. Show Professor Tawdry that I can do this!

He gathered himself and reached out to the fire. "Inflamo!"

Ka-whoosh! A fountain of flame sprang from the firepit. It spiraled noisily toward the floor beams twenty feet over their heads, burning bright orange, then yellow and then a furious white. The heat and the noise increased. It sounded like some great, greedy monster chomping at the air.

Enough Alexander, enough, turn it off before you burn down the keep! Professor Tawdry waved his arms, and he