The Young Wizard, Traveling

By Norman X. Scozzafova

Following the death of his intended a week before the wedding, the young wizard abandons the community and school he founded to continue his westward quest. He is joined by a surprise companion before saving a group of strangers from armed attackers. It turns out to have been the local royalty who then offers him full-time employment & a bit more. Surprisingly, these people are the ones he sought.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martian Publishing
• Release date: Jun 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463575314

Book preview

THE ANABORAXUS SERIES, VOLUME THREE

THE YOUNG WIZARD, TRAVELING

By Norman X. Scozzafova

MARTIAN PUBLISHING

Copyright © 2019 by Martian Publishing Company

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No portion of this volume may

be reproduced in any format

without the express written

permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to persons or

organizations, living or extinct,

is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

In the Land Beyond Cheering

One step in front of the other.

It was really about all he could manage.

Thinking about it, or anything for that matter, seemed rather pointless.

He had no firm idea of where he was headed – nor why – except that he had earlier planned to go westward to the coast and discover the beginnings of the rather strange group he had found himself among. And their mythology surrounding their own origins had left something to be desired.

Life had taken some rather bizarre turns with him in the vortex. The family farm was getting too small to support further cleavage beyond what his brothers' shares would be and so he had been shipped off to apprentice in the capital of the great Koria League.

Traveling with a band of poets, he got separated when waylaid by highwaymen and would up being taken into a cave system and introduced to magic. Not the storybook fantasy version but real, honest-to-goodness working magic.

He shook his head, the story was unbelievable even though he knew it intimately. It was his story and he was anxious to move on from the last chapter – the one in which his heart was crushed – and move on from the pain.

Perhaps some part of him had thought that a change of location would ease the ache, but such was laughable if, indeed, it had ever been studiously considered. The pain was not in that place but in the heart he carried even now, beating in his chest, taking him into the unknown.

Gritting his teeth, he tried to get Uinist out of his mind… her face, her hair, her laugh, her incisive wit, and her creative brilliance. And as long as he kept thinking of all that, he was not going to be able to get any part of it out of his mind. The irony of the thought caused him to grin involuntarily.

His grin was, however, without much humor.

He had been so happy, setting up the defenses of the village, planning the wedding, and working on the design of the curriculum for their school.

Two days later, the day began very differently.

That morning came seemingly with no warmth, no light, no purpose.

He had struggled with the notion of getting out of bed, to go about the motions of trying to make life have some meaning.

He had gone to his desk in the school building to sort and sift through another pile of papers as though their rearrangement might actually offer something useful to the universe. He no longer even seemed to notice the writing thereon. Recognizing the small thin strokes made by Uinist – once so treasured a memory – now seemed a mocking splinter, irritating his every touch.

Sighing, he laid the pages down and stared out the window, absorbed more deeply into the rabbit warrens of his mind.

The next day had gone very much like the one before.

It seemed that fewer gave him greeting every morning, as though they had learned to distribute their shared joy with other, more receptive persons. Tossing good wishes into his empty well seemed to fill nothing. He hardly noticed their words and even more rarely responded. It was as though he were some vacant physical form moving through their world without anything resembling a soul.

Would it do any good asking how you are today?

He had turned from the window to see Dilan standing in the doorway. Is it supposed to?

Dilan had shrugged. I don't know. I keep hoping that my old friend will show up again but I sense he seems very far away.

Looking down at the pages on his desk, moving a few around, and staring some more. I think he has not only gone but he's not coming back.

Dilan tried to sigh very quietly. In the silence of the small room, it was readily heard. Is there nothing I can say or do to assist you in your recovery?

He stared before shaking his head. I know people have come by to try and distract me with questions and problems… He shrugged. And more than a few young ladies have come by to try and spark some interest in that area as well but… He turned to the window again. Nothing seems to matter. I know from the past – having seen such loss close before, the image of his seafaring uncle came to mind, I know the pain and loss will diminish over time but I only know it is not yet that time. He shrugged again. It seems more of an academic knowledge than any deep understanding.

And there is nothing about the school that seems of any interest?

His gaze had remained fixed beyond the window. No. It was probably not the best thing to associate myself so deeply with just one person in so many of life's endeavors but… it was the depth of our connection… connecting through so many things… He sighed and turned back. I suppose I should not have done so but what else could love dictate?

After a moment, Dilan shook his head and dropped his own gaze. I don't know, my friend, I just don't know. I can only hope that the depth of my own love for Lurtiola can someday reach the same deep level you had with Uinist. He looked up to meet the tortured soul's gaze.

I'm sure it will, Dilan, I'm sure it will.

The rest of the morning had been very much the same: sitting at his desk, shuffling the papers around, adding the new reports and requests to their number as though by some subtle rearrangement they should all take on some meaning, however small and insignificant.

It was no use. Shuffling them around only resulted in rearrangement of the confusion present to begin with. He was getting nothing accomplished.

At length, he sighed and set about putting the pages together in some sort of order, wishing that he, like Hadila, had the gift of a systems analyst, to reorganize the mess into something better than what he started with.

It was, of course, doomed to failure.

When the rearrangement had been accomplished, he took the neatly carved rock from the corner of his desk for such purpose and set it firmly in the middle of the pile.

He left his office.

And ran into Uinist's little brother, Borets.

In the lad's grief, he attached himself to his sister's intended.

The shared grieving had helped in the healing process, to both, he felt certain.

Still, it had not been enough to keep him there.

Grieving is, as it has always been, a solitary affair. Others' support can help but the deep wound can only heal over time. He figured the trek he had set before him might give him that time so desperately needed.

With the young lad present, he had been able to focus some little on the work at hand, getting the school situated.

Yes, he was certain it could continue without him.

~~~~

CHAPTER TWO

Decisions Having Been Made

Keeping his intentions to himself, he had requested a meeting with the Seer Council who, as elders and directors of the wizarding tribe, worked at keeping the tribe working together in good health even when their small group had removed themselves from their original home in the caves.

He had stood before the group. After several exchanged glances, the leader, Ugolinter said, Anaboraxus, we are here. Why have you summoned the group to gather?

When we left Third Home, I was entrusted with the task of bringing this group into the outside world, to safely guide them to a new place where they could intermingle with the populations outside and introduce new blood into the tribe. He looked at them one by one. I have completed my commission in this regard and I think it is time that I should be moving on.

Ugolinter's eyes widened. This is most unusual… although, I must admit, in the light of recent events, I cannot say it is completely unexpected.

Edixen nodded. So, where will you go?

He stared out the window. I had always wanted to see if I could find the source of the Pi'esuref and I believe I can find it by going west, to the coast.

Do you really think they will still know about us there?

Not about us, exactly, but I cannot imagine that any people with this kind of knowledge would not have left its mark among the remnants there.

What if there are Langstroma there?

He sighed. I fear there will be Langstroma or people like them – remember Chamlisrood? – wherever we travel on this world. Small-minded people seem to exist everywhere. I do not think one culture, one people, have a lock on those attitudes. People fear what they do not know and allow other people to use that fear to control them. It is one of the great constants in history. One that I fear we will not see an end to anytime soon.

Ugolinter nodded. I see. And when will you leave.

He thought a moment. Tomorrow, I think. Just after the funeral.

He had also asked them to keep this news quiet until after his departure. One thing he did not want was a lot of well-wishers sending him off.

Nor had he thought he could bear the pain and loss in the young Borets' eyes.

So he had left after the funerals and, while the remainder of the village held a communal dinner as a solemn requiem, he had taken his bags – already packed – and left on foot, far from any eyes of the other mourners. They would discover his absence later, through the words of the Seer Council as well as the few private letters he had distributed in the silent dwellings after the funeral, while all gathered for the dinner.

He glanced up at the Sun, well past meridian but still some distant from the western horizon. He thought he was making good time but he had not traveled this way before and had no knowledge of the landmarks.

Uinist and others, including Kairtha, Dilan's sister, had been this road less than a month before, trying to coax some of the earlier neighbors back to the community now that the trouble had been removed. He had not passed any wagons full of goods heading in that direction but imagined that he should be seeing such very soon. Now that the harvest season was over, those neighbors should be returning to their old homes soon.

Thus far, he had not encountered a single traveler on the road. Further north, back toward his original home where the population was greater, there was always someone on the main roadways. At least until the winter snows made passage difficult. That time would still be a month away at least. And he was entirely unsure if and when the weather here would turn that bad for traveling.

Tired of thinking about Janseray and the heartache remembered so sharply in recent memory, he turned his mind to the end of his quest.

What had he thought to find?

When they had traveled to First Home two years previously, the place now held by their antagonists, the Langstroma, he had seen evidence showing the Pi'esuref, the tribe of the wizards, had a possible origination on the western coast of the continent. He did not know if the remnants of the original group of that western Pi'esuref remained intact – he had been told several centuries had passed since their last contact – but if they had, he should very much like to know if they had a deeper understanding of the history than the wizards had retained.

And why should this matter?

He had often asked himself that question.

No answer had been forthcoming but he felt in his very bones that his personal destiny lay in that western land, searching for the ancient tribe from whence they came.

The reason for this quest was not revealed but he felt certain that the answer – or perhaps only the quest itself – should bring him the satisfaction he required. And that was whether or not any answer of sufficient merit was ever obtained.

This line of thought put him to thinking about the school he and Uinist had been creating. In the instruction of magic, the usual form had been to teach the students the ritualized chants and spells, hoping that through the constant repetition they would somehow absorb the concepts behind the things. And, though it seems to have worked fairly well through the ages, there were a number of students for whom such an approach was worse than useless.

Primary among those who required other instruction was Anaboraxus himself. He had been able to see through the standard model of instruction and still learn the craft in spite of the methods used. Because of his notice of this glaring absence, he was able to devise new methods to try and teach those who did not naturally seem to absorb this knowledge.

Now, members of the tribe who had reached middle age thinking they were somehow flawed were discovering they had the abilities all along but could never tap into them.

Even members who had the gift but seemed to never advance beyond a certain level were discovering what had been holding them back and how to overcome the obstacle.

Walking along in silence, he wondered why had that bit of memory impinged while he was trying to think ahead – not behind – and thought perhaps this method of thinking, of changing systems from the normal might have something to do with his quest.

The answer did not come to him at once but it was a puzzle that kept his mind occupied from the dismal thoughts it might otherwise entertain.

~~~~

CHAPTER THREE

Heartfelt Reunions

While he was deep in his ruminations, he became aware of a spirit floating above the roadway. It was his old friend, the prankster. In their past encounters, this unnamed entity had led him to a place outside the realm of this universe. Mischievous though the being might be, malicious it was not.

Greetings again, old friend!

A chuckle could be heard in his mind. "I see you are unafraid to venture again into my domain."

Oh, I see, he grinned, you only travel the roadways to see what mischief you can create.

"Of course! The response came. Allows for a quicker getaway."

Don't give me that, the wizard said, you simply escape to your own space anytime you want.

"Well, that's true. Still, escape along the open road is usually more dramatic."

He laughed. Yes, I can see that. He walked along a bit. By the way, I'd like to thank you for assisting me in learning to create my own space.

The fellow laughed. "Don't blame me!" Then he drifted away.

Sometime later, another presence appeared over the roadway. It was a friend from the poet band of his youthful travels; the only one to have been killed in the attack the led him to the cave of the wizards.

Hook! Good to see you again. It's been a while.

"Odd. To me it seems like we talked only a few moments ago."

Time must travel differently there.

There was a momentary pause. "Actually, I don't believe time, as it were, passes at all. It's more like… Well, let's just say it's different."

I see, I guess. So what brings you around?

"I recall you were wondering about the poets and, as it happens, you are very near to where one of them now resides."

Oh? This far south?

"Yes. When the Smoke retired, he wanted to get out of the cold climes and went southward where it stayed warmer quite a bit longer. He seems to think it helps his old bones but such a consideration is entirely subjective, you know."

He grinned. Yes, I know. Nearby, you say. Is distance also different where you are or is it close in my geography?

Hook chuckled. "Now that you mention it… I can pass from one location to another quicker than… Well, never mind that. Yes, I believe it is relatively close."

I see. And how relative is its closeness?

"Close? He chuckled. I think I'm a bit sketchy on distances… Hold on a moment."

He was gone and the young wizard continued along the roadway alone.

Within the hour, Hook reappeared.

"All right. I am not positive about the exactness of my estimate but I think if you continue along this road for another week… or so… you will arrive at the village wherein he currently resides."

He considered it for a moment. Sure, why not? I'm not real sure about when I need to turn westward but waiting until I reach a warmer climate sounds good to me. Especially with the autumn advancing as we speak.

"Fine. Then I shall rejoin you a bit further along the way."

Great! Keep yourself out of trouble until then!

"Trouble? Me!? He cackled. My friend, you know me better than that. Then quickly, Wait! Don't say it!"

And he was gone.

The road had been meandering more west than south but had recently gravitated in a more southerly direction. Stopping on a rise, one morning, he could smell a strange humid aroma in the air and, looking eastward, saw a great body of water.

Wow! He stood a time and stared. I had no idea I had been walking parallel to the coast for a time. It would seem that the roadway had only recently begun to draw him closer to the sea or he should have smelled the water sooner.

There were several small villages he passed through along the way and one rather large walled town just west of the roadway proper but he did not stop in any of them. He camped out in the woods and had been pleased to not encounter any brigands along the way.

Ten days after he had left Janseray, his old friend popped into existence over the roadway again.

"Braxus!"

Hook! Good to see you again. What brings you back?

"Don't you recall? I said I would help guide you to our old friend Smoke."

Oh, yes. How silly of me!

"He lives in a small fishing village along the coast you have been observing. The next crossroad you come to will take you to it. When you get there, you only have to ask for the 'old poet'. I'm sure everyone in town knows him."

Have you been able to talk to him?

"Sadly, no. But I have recently been able to make an appearance in his dreams."

Oh? That's good.

"Yes, it’s a trick a friend of yours has been teaching me."

Anaboraxus stopped in the middle of the road, staring upward. His throat seemed suddenly very tight. Uinist had even been training him in the art of teaching people in their dreams. A friend of mine?

"Yes, she's quite good at it, too. Teaching, I mean. She wanted to get in touch in your dreams but didn't know how you'd take it."

He glanced around until he spotted another spirit in the vicinity. His knees grew suddenly weak and he sank to them in the dirt. Uinist? Is that you? Tears had already begun falling.

Her voice came hesitantly. "Yes, it is me. I wanted to talk to you but wasn't sure how to… Well, I mean, I did leave you all of a sudden."

Uinist! It's you! I'm so glad to see you again. He was crying unashamedly. He turned to where Hook remained. And you, my dearest friend, thank you so much!

Hook's laughter was robust. "And with that, my friend, I think my work here is finished. When next we meet – if it shall ever happen again – I do not know that we will recognize each other."

In that case, may the gods be with you wherever you travel.

"And to you, likewise. I'll leave you two now."

And the Hook was gone.

He turned back to the remaining spirit. Where have you been?

"I'm not real sure about that. I remember hanging around by my body for a time but then I floated away… to someplace out over the forest. She paused, struggling with the concepts. It seemed like I was there for a very, very long time. Years it seems. I thought of coming back to see you but didn't know exactly how to do that. Presently, I found myself traveling along this roadway. That's where I ran into your friend, Hook. He told me a lot of interesting stories – some about you – and he mentioned wanting to get a message to another friend of his… Smoke, I think he said. He had tried to talk to the fellow but couldn't seem to get through to him. I mentioned the possibility of going into his dreams and showed him how to do it. We were having some success on that account when you appeared on the road."

But why didn't you reveal yourself?

He sensed a shrug. "Like I said, as much pain as you were in, I didn't want you to hurt any more. And you were already having very painful dreams…"

Regardless… He