The Power of the Mage’S Staff

By Rosanna Mary Hoppo

The Power of the Mages Staff is the story of a young orphaned girl as she struggles to survive after she has been left alone, homeless and very afraid. She is also wanted by a very powerful and evil duke who thinks she may have witnessed his soldiers as they massacred a whole village, her village.

Five boys, also orphans, find her unconscious and very ill. Guessing where she may be from they take her to their cave and hide her. Lotrace lingers in a deep sleep for some time so the boys enlist the aid of an old medicine woman to help her.

Eventually Lotrace wakens and begins an epic journey to find her uncle and save the land from the clutches of an evil prince. Along the way she must deal with her new powers as a very powerful Mage as she becomes Theressa of the Lake Endeann, Mage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Aug 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452504698

Rosanna Mary Hoppo

Rosanna Mary Hoppo 2011 Born Rosanna Mary Seaton in Pemberton WA. The daughter of a rabbit trapper (returned war hero) she grew up travelling all over Australia. She was educated to high school standard doing correspondence (school of the air). Along with her sister Judith Seaton was taught by their mother Maida. At age fourteen she was sent to boarding school in Broken Hill and left school at end of year twelve. Growing up in the great Australian outback her parents’ based themselves out of Tibooburra and this she adopted as her home town. She married in South Australia and all her children were born in that state. Rosanna went on to become a tdriver until she could no longer do it and thebecame a security guard and worked up on the Olympic Dam mine. She started writing in her late forties.

Book preview

THE POWER OF THE

Mage’s Staff

A NOVEL BY

MARY SEATON

SKU-000562313_TEXT.pdf

Copyright © 2012 by Rosanna Mary Hoppo.

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.

Interior Graphics/Art Credit: Shutterstock

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www.balboapress.com.au

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-0468-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-0469-8 (e)

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.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

To Joseph Hoppo

To Roly and Judith

And Tracey and Adam

To Andrew and Robert

To Bruce and Jenny

To Heather and Helen

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

SKU-000562313_TEXT.pdf

Rosanna Mary Seaton was born in Pemberton Western Australia in 1954. The daughter of an ex commando Turned rabbit shooter she grew up all over Australia, Educated to year twelve by correspondence and boarding school from age fourteen. Married in South Australia and all her children Andrew Robert Tracey and Joseph were born there. She was a truck driver for years and then a security guard on the Olympic Damn mine in the north. Mary started writing when she was in her forties.

Chapter

1

The girl stumbled into a small clearing; she was soaked through and freezing cold yet she felt none of it. Numb and bewildered she lifted sad eyes to a sky-laden heavy with dark clouds. The wind whirled and tore at her clothing almost ripping her coat from her back. Her hood was wrenched from her fingers and blown back from her head and she gasped as the icy air hit her face.

The trees reared and bowed in a crazy dance yielding to the winds powerful force. Down they swooped, the upper branches in a spray of water, and then up they reared as they were dashed here then there. Lotrace slumped to the ground underneath the huge, protective branches of an oak tree and huddled there, more for comfort than for warmth.

She had a pain in her ribs she couldn’t shift with rubbing and a lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. The fear in her innards was so terrible that she knew it was there to stay. Why she asked herself again why had they come?

The young girl noticed the light dimming as she sniffed back the tears, which almost choked her. She always felt a little easier after a good cry but on this day she doubted she’d ever feel easier again. The dimming light meant something to her but she wasn’t sure. She shivered and looked about trying to get her bearings but nothing came to her but misery.

She wiped the tears from her eyes to get a better look. She had never before been so far from the hamlet and her home’ her mother’s arms the warmth of the fire. She reckoned she must be deep, deep in the woods. Lotrace breathed out slowly, unaware that she had been holding her breath.

‘Good God no’ she gasped and let her hands fall to her lap she sat still, as she realized the deep trouble she was in. ‘God in heaven, I am in the middle of the forest and the night is upon me.’

A shiver of panic ran through Lotrace. She’d heard stories about these woods and what happened to people who ventured in here at night. Some said that the people who went in there were still in there but they could never come home because of how changed they were. It was believed that on nights when the moon was full these poor things could be heard wailing and beseeching their tormenters to release them. The young girl felt a shiver pass right through her.

Lotrace remembered hearing strange noises come from these parts as she slept secure beside her family, a family that no longer existed. Suddenly Lotrace felt a little better, so what if the monsters got her to? Then at least she would either be dead and gone with her family or she would be a monster and no longer fear them, nor would she care for a dead family she supposed. ‘Let them come’ she whispered into the cold damp, the steam from her breath hanging in the air.

But Lotrace had more pressing needs; her stomach was empty and growling for food. She wasn’t aware when the shivering had started but she knew she was too cold and she was exhausted. Where would she sleep, what would she eat?

Without another thought she got to her feet and began the long climb to the great trees’ branches and the comfort she somehow knew she’d find there.

Somewhere high up in the forest, in the loving arms of a big old elm tree with love enough to spare, a young girl kissed her father’s cheek, hugged her mother and ran and frolicked with her little brother in the hay fields one last time. She played and loved and laughed until the morning sun bid her leave her dreams for now and climb down from the tree to face the nightmare that, in the space of a heartbeat, had replaced her life.

Lotrace was not beaten and as her feet hit the ground it occurred to her that she had spent the night in the dreaded woods and she was still alive. Lotrace’s hands flew to her face and she looked down at herself, half expecting to see the hairy feet of a monster poking out from underneath her coat. But no she was normal or at least she looked normal. She felt her face for whiskers and such but there were none.

Next Lotrace considered her family for a while and yes she still ached for them so she guessed she must still be human. But then Lotrace didn’t know whether she was pleased or not when the hunger and pain returned full force with such intensity it took her breath away.

Looking back up into the trees’ branches Lotrace whispered a heartfelt thank you to the massive oak though she didn’t understand why. Deciding which way to go wasn’t easy either for she had no idea which way she had come. She didn’t want to end up back at the village to be hacked to pieces by the cruel men who had slaughtered her family in a blood bath she would never forget. She sobbed a great loud sob into the morning stillness. The wind had died at dusk and the rain had eased shortly after. Lotrace was dry and felt a little refreshed, but she was lonely. She knew she had to find people, friendly people or face death alone in the forest.

And so Lotrace put one foot in front of the other and walked away from the sun. She remembered something her father used to say about coming home with the sun in his eyes from working in his fields. That was late afternoon and this was morning, or at least she hoped it was.

She had run that way from the awful sounds and sights of yesterday’s massacre. Covering her ears she had run as fast as she could to the hayfield her father had worked in that very day. And she would never be able to run there again, this she knew with absolute certainty.

Lotrace realized she had frozen and was standing stock-still. Would these memories always be this painful? She could still smell the smoke as it mingled with the dreadful smell of blood. Lotrace heaved a sigh and trudged on. Death smelled awful she thought.

Slowly her senses started to return to the day to day things of life. Birds sang in the bright morning light and everywhere the animals, by their sights and sounds, were busy. It seemed strange to Lotrace that life was going on around her as if nothing had happened.

And what of herself? Was she alive through some terrible retribution? Something she had done, some wrong to someone, and had not atoned for? And yet yesterday she had run for her life. A bird flew down and landed noiselessly on a branch inches from her head. She stopped and stared at it, marveling at its sweet voice as it began to sing. Maybe not retribution, she thought, maybe just something that she didn’t understand.

Sometimes, Lotrace thought, it is surely harder to be alive than dead. What peace to lay dead amongst her family and friends, in the bosom of her loved ones, for here she had nothing and no one. She didn’t know what she would do or how she would survive.

One thing was sure; she didn’t want to spend another night in these woods alone so she trudged on. As she walked the trees and the vegetation got thicker so she could hardly see through the thick canopy up above.

At about midday she could make out huge dark clouds gathering above and to the left of her. They got thicker and darker until they obliterated the sun.

It wasn’t long before she came to a creek, which was too wide and too deep to cross. So she changed direction and followed it for the rest of that day until night fell once more and she had no great oak to go to.

Lotrace could feel the fear and the anger rising in her stomach like bile, bitter and intrusive. How she hated those men in their shiny uniforms and their strange tongue. She could still smell the awful smell as if it were happening now. She could almost taste it and she was suddenly overcome with sickness. She looked about her, stealing forward slowly now, one foot in front of the other. Something was wrong here but what?

Lotrace’s heart began to thump and pound in her chest as she realized she actually could smell smoke and blood. Death was apparent in the air, but how?

The cold hand of dread took hold of Lotrace’s heart as the realization of what had happened here sank in. As much as she did not want to face the awful truth it made itself known to her and she stood still, hardly even wanting to breathe.

The dark clouds that covered the sun, she should have known, but she had paid no attention. Lotrace crept forward making sure to stay hidden from view. She could hear men’s voices now, men’s voices speaking that strange and awful tongue. And this she heard above the drumming of her heart beat, loud and echoing in her ears. She could see now, up ahead she could see that she had returned unwittingly to her hometown.

Lotrace sank down behind a bush trying to take it all in. How had she got here? She must have circled around in a sort of semi-circle and come up to the village from the south side. She swung round to look for the creek; it was not there. She couldn’t remember when she had parted company with that. And how had she not recognized her surroundings? Everything looked strange and unfriendly and Lotrace’s heart sank to the ground along with her spirits. She stayed crouched behind some bushes.

Lotrace was in a daze for some minutes, she didn’t know how long, but she was brought up out of her doldrums by the sounds of chopping. Someone was chopping something. Lotrace envisioned some one’s head rolling away from the chopping block and she sprang to her feet and lurched back into the forest and the safety of the trees.

Night was closing in once again on Lotrace along with despair. Tears rolled down her face as she subconsciously searched for a tree. Blindly she ran on through the jungle. Bushes and low branches scratching her face and grabbing at her clothes.

Something, some bush or other had her by her coat and she pulled and sobbed until she could pull no more and collapsed on the ground, hungry exhausted and alone. And she was frightened. The last thing that registered on Lotrace’s mind before she passed into blackness was that touch. A simple human touch. Someone had touched her and stoked her blood and tear stained face.

Lotrace woke up to a new day and for a time her mind was blank. Where am I she thought as she tried to lift her head? Her head wouldn’t rise from the ground at first and she had a terrible pain behind her eyes so she lay for a while thinking. It was no good her head pounded so much it hurt to blink.

The sun must have been high in the sky she thought as she gazed up through the canopy of trees at what she could see of the sky. Memories flooded back into her thoughts and she moaned and rolled over to hide her face. That’s when she saw her, as she rolled over she caught sight of an old woman lying on her back seemingly dead. Lotrace sat up and gasped in horror and disappointment as she looked into the sightless eyes of the village elder Cranin.

‘So it was you there with me last night, no wonder I am still alive this morning, I slept beside the village medicine woman.’ A sob escaped her for the old lady, obviously beaten by the barbarians so badly she had died of her injuries during the cold dark night. Lotrace touched her face and it was cold. She backed away.

Cranin was a very powerful woman and was said to be able to make these things that lurked in the forest and would do harm to any man give second thought to doing so. Cranin was a gifted magician as well as an excellent healing woman and it was common knowledge that upon her death she would give her powers to whomever she thought worthy. This she would do because she had no heir. But now… well she’d never be able to thought Lotrace sadly and her knowledge and powers would die with her.

Lotrace slumped on the ground beside her and cried, tears streaming down her face and spittle from her nose and mouth. She had found a survivor of this terrible holocaust just to lose her it seemed so cruel. The crying subsided and Lotrace looked back to where she’d slept near the tree and discovered that she’d been lying beneath a coat. A very warm coat the red one she’d always admired on the old lady. Dare she take the famous mage’s coat?

Lotrace got to her feet and walking over to the coat she bent over and picked it up the old mage’s sweet but spicy smell still lingered on it and she brought it lovingly, longingly to her chest and hugged it.

Her hands went to a solid object in the pocket but on inspection it was not in the pocket. Must be in the lining she thought vaguely. Lotrace shrugged and put the coat around her shoulders. She was cold even in the glorious sunshine which even managed to penetrate the canopy of the trees. The knowledge that she must put as much distance between her and those fiends as possible gave strength of purpose to her legs.

Lotrace looked around her for some sign as to which way she should go. On this morning she decided to go into the sun. On and on she trudged through vegetation so thick sometimes she had to push her way through or go round or yet climb over it.

The beautiful smell of flowers came to her and reminded her that it was springtime. Of course the animals are preparing their nests and boroughs in readiness for their young, which is why they are so busy.

She was feeling worse with each step, her head ached and pounded her throat was dry and she longed for the cool waters of the river she had followed the day before. She was sweating profusely and yet she hugged the coat around her to try and get warm.

Finally only a few hours later she had to sit for a while and think. She reached into the other pocket of the old mages coat and found some dried meat and some dried fruit and nuts. There was also a slice of bread which Cranin almost always carried to feed her beloved birds. Lotrace could have cried she was so hungry and she ate ravenously keeping only a few nuts and some fruit for later.

Feeling better after some food Lotrace got to her feet and trudged on again. After an hour or so she was aware that she was walking down hill and the going was quite a bit easier. The vegetation was thinning out and the sun actually reached her sometimes. She could see about fifty feet in front of her and she felt warmer. Lotrace took the coat from her shoulders keeping its benefit for the long cold night she knew she’d be spending in this forest.

As the day wore on Lotrace found the going got easier yet she got weaker and weaker.

Exhausted and knowing it would be dark soon she started looking around for a tree. She was looking up at some prospective trees when she put her foot in a puddle of water. She exclaimed in delight as she flopped to her knees and drank. As dirty as it was she had never tasted water so good. It soothed her dry and burning throat and she was loath to leave it behind as she dabbed her burning face with the cool liquid, thinking how good it would be if she could drink first thing in the morning.

She couldn’t believe her luck when she found a tree nearby that looked perfect. And so once again Lotrace climbed eagerly to the branches of the tree and found a hollowed fork, which would support her, and she would be safe from falling. She would be high up off the ground to; Lotrace settled into the warmth of the hollow and covered herself with the coat.

Although Lotrace was exhausted sleep did not come quickly. Instead she cried herself to sleep after wondering if these killers had taken over the whole world. If they had, would they still want to kill her to? She thought they probably would seeing as how they had killed women and children, even babies. Lotrace felt angry at this and wished she could get even with them. One day she vowed silently, ‘I will one of these days’ she whispered into the coming night as she remembered the toothless, merciless grin on the face. of one of the soldiers as he smashed his axe into a child’s face. Lotrace actually jumped at the memory.

During the night Lotrace was woken by something, a sound that she couldn’t make out. It was pitch dark now and no moon offered any light to the forest floor. Lotrace was sure the noise had come from below her. She lay still, trying to breathe as shallow and as noiselessly as she could. For one shaky breath after another she listened. All she heard was her own heart thumping in her chest. Her limbs were aching from the tension and her stomach had turned to water.

The minutes ticked by and the young girl began to relax, it was nothing, and sleep was claiming her attention once more when she was brought to full alert by the noise. It sounded as though someone was crashing around in the bushes below not more than twenty or thirty feet away. Lotrace made no noise. Then she heard a grunting noise and then another and the crashing stopped.

The scream of a small animal almost brought Lotrace down out of the tree. She’d let out a gasp and the noise of it seemed to hang in the air in front of her but she couldn’t get it back. She held her breath but all was quiet. Had the monster heard her? Would it eat her to or just her heart? Either way…

She had grown up on stories of people being eaten by these monsters. It was even told to bairns that the monsters sometimes ate only the heart. This they did so that without it the victim could never find his way home and were left wandering these vile woods forever. Alive or dead they couldn’t find their way home. Sometimes the monsters got hungry and ate them but then their spirits would be left to haunt the woods. And it was these you could hear on moonlit nights when the wind howled through the woods.

Lotrace shivered and began a silent prayer in her head. She prayed for herself and for her family and all their friends and anyone else who had been butchered. The grunting started again and Lotrace thought it sounded almost human. Maybe it was one of the soldiers who had wiped out all her loved ones. Either way she was not in a good position.

Lotrace wondered if she should try and get away. She thought she should make a run for it. ‘Go now’ she told herself and made to start down the tree but she could not.

To her horror something held her firm; she swung round trying to see what or who. To her relief she discovered her coat was hooked on a small branch.

At that very moment the tree shook, the thing was right beneath her now. The drumming of her heart in her ears got louder until she thought it must be able to hear it. But the thing went off crashing through the woods until she heard it no more, doubtlessly in pursuit of some small creature. When all in the woods was returned to quiet she let out her breath on a silent sob.

Lotrace looked down where her coat lay hooked to the tree. If it hadn’t been for that she would have landed right on it. Returning to the hollow she lay her head against the warm soft bark, it smelled good and she slept away the rest of the night in peaceful swoon. No memories pained her for the rest of that night and no dreams troubled her, she was fast asleep. But she was in a fever.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The duke slammed his thick pudgy fist on his desk causing all on it to bounce. His ruddy face was almost purple with rage and his thinning hair was damp with sweat. His oversized belly told of too many years of overindulgence and easy living. He glared balefully at the young soldier standing on the other side. His piggy eyes narrowed to look like folds in the fat as he raised a finger to point at him.

‘You will pay for this! Good God man we will all pay for this. I specifically told you that no other villages were to be harmed but the two I told you were to be hit. When news of this reaches the king he will be breathing down my neck and poking his nose into all my