Children of Magick: A Tale of Sorcery, Elves, and Dragons

By Benjamin Towe

Children of Magick chronicles deeds of sorcerers, elves, and dragons in ancient Donothor. The sorcerer Morlecainen and his Dark Elf princess mate welcome twin daughters. Chalar shares her father’s red hair whilst Theandra bears her mother’s dark features. Magick touches the sisters. The sorcerer’s ambition and unwonted effects of Magick connect two worlds and embroil them in conflict. The sorcerer surreptitiously attains a seemingly insurmountable weapon. The weapon’s creators seek its return. Fragile alliances form and splinter. Deception breeds mistrust. The sorcerer’s daughters traverse different paths and find love. Both suffer the consequences of their father’s misdeeds. All the while the mysterious spirit of the Orb of Dark Knowledge invades dreams, stirs conflict, and serves its own agenda. Will Magick serve of doom its children?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9781728378817

Benjamin Towe

Benjamin Towe is a dedicated Whovian, crafty old Dungeon Master, and lover of all things magic and make believe. Ben is a graduate of Mt. Airy (NC) High School, Davidson College, and the University of Virginia School of Medicine. Dr Towe served five years in the US Army Medical Corps and has practiced family medicine. Doctor “T” loves reading and writing science fiction and fantasy novels. The novels of the Donothor and Elfdreams series are Doctor T’s Rx for fantasy. Children of Magick joins his literary family of Justful Deception, the Queen’s Secret, Thirttene Friends, Dawn of Magick, Lost Spellweaver, First Wandmaker, Wandmaker’s Burden, Emerald Islands, Mender’s Tomb, Deathquest to Parallan, Orb of Chalar, Chalice of Mystery, Death of Magick, and Unwonted Spellweavers. Escape to an Elfdream! Happy reading!

Book preview

One

Brilliant flashes of redness thrice filled Donothor’s skies. Ancient writings archived inexplicable redness 3585, 2001, and 2000 years in the past. Deep blueness followed the most ancient episode. Campfire songs and early recorded histories of Gray Elves, Dark Elves, and Black Dragons described the strange occurrences. Balladeers sang of ancient mysteries and legends stemming from the red glow. Songs tied the redness to the legend of the stone dragon and origin of enmity between the Gray and Dark Elves.

The great River Luumic served as the major artery of the lands of Donothor. The mighty river flowed from its source in the mountains north of Lyndyn, traversed northern and central Donothor past the dangerous Misty Forest, and sent its largest tributary meandering northward into the Iron Mountains gap. Wealth awaited those brazen enough to traverse the gap, but many entered the gap and never returned. In southern Donothor the Luumic divided into three branches. At the trifurcation a conurbation not surprisingly named Three Forks grew rapidly into the third largest town in Donothor, only after Lyndyn and the dwarves’ citadel Hillesdale. The easternmost branch extended eastward to Rancide and the Calamitous Forest and defined the upper Lachinor. The impassible middle branch widened south of Three Forks and merged with the marshes of the Lachinor. There was no safe conduit to the depths of the Lachinor. Marshy terrain became ever more treacherous south of the river. The well-known western branch flowed past the dwarves’ Fort Luumic, passed through the dense forests surrounding Knottington, and meandered to the Great Western Sea. The wide expanse of Suregood Forest sat north of the Luumic and extended to the sea.

Most of Donothor remained wild. Lawlessness abounded when one left the civilized areas. Much of the great southern swamp the Lachinor remained unexplored and home to goblins, hobgoblins, black dragons, and communities of elves. Gray Elves lived in the westernmost Lachinor. Dark Elves lived deep in the swamp. Large numbers of black dragons filled the air in the depths of the swamp.

Northern hamlets bound together and established a center of government at Lyndyn. Lyndyn was strategically located on the River Luumic and shielded by Mt. Lyndyn. The Aivendar family spearheaded the efforts in Lyndyn and formed the Rangers of Donothor to provide security and enforce the law. Eigren Aivendar had accepted the title of king and established the house of Aivendar. Recently efforts began to construct a wall around the growing hamlet. Eigren enlarged the donjon and transformed caverns beneath the hamlet to a dungeon to incarcerate the lawless.

East of Lyndyn, the mysterious Priestess Knarra constructed her freehold, the Fane of the Setting Sun. Magick touched Knarra. The ageless Priestess arrived long ago and never revealed whence she came. The Fane of the Setting Sun became a sanctuary for the needy and a source of strength. Knarra had adventured in the east with Prismatic Dragon Taekora. The duo prevailed over many power-hungry barons. Knarra supported the fledgling government at Lyndyn and presented the Aivendars with the priceless Blade of Truth Exeter. The blade became heirloom of the Aivendars and filled the hand of the Captain of the Rangers. Eigren’s son Ordrych served in this capacity. The ranger force under the tutelage of Ordrych Aivendar had become well trained and effective. Ordrych was never without the longsword Exeter and the two melded into a fighting unit. The dwarves’ King Travan presented Ordrych with a set of glorious chainmail fashioned by the finest armorers of the mines beneath Hillesdale. It had scarcely the weight of a cloak but provided great protection.

Barges carried finished goods from Lyndyn to Three Forks and places south including Fort Luumic and communities such as Tindal, Prille, and Kanath. Titanosteers, oxen, and sometimes the strong backs of river men pulled barges upstream. The River Luumic formed a natural barrier to foragers such as the Iron Mountain Giants that inhabited the regions east of the river.

Two

Magick touched the world Sagain. Orders of Dark and Light Sorcery struggled for dominance and fought constantly. Dark Sorcerers entrusted their leadership, treasures, and the ancient Staff of the West Wind to elderly Clysis. The Staff of the West Wind was one of the thirteen Staves of Sagain and called the Staff of Stone. The artifact passed along legendary icons of Sagain, including Rhiann Klarje, Iyaca Vassi, the wanderer Confusious, the head of the order of Dark Sorcerers Boton Klarje-Jhundi, Bijna Torva, Ross Fizer, and finally old Clysis. The rune W of the Old Language was etched into the end of the staff. Four sets of symbols in the center of the staff briefly glowed whenever the Staff of the West Wind was employed. These symbols, Ǿ ∞ Ǿ, identified artifacts of Sagain. The relic possessed innate faculties of the spells Comprehend Languages, Stonewall, Stone to Mud, Stone to Flesh, Stone Shape, and Petrifaction. The great staff unpredictably reversed the effects of its actions.

Clysis sought power, wealth, and ultimately survival. Distant twin suns expanded in the sky and parched the lands of Sagain. Dreams troubled the aged Dark Sorcerer. Through his disturbed slumber the old necromancer learned the lost Orb of Dark Knowledge and other powerful artifacts rested in a chest in his archrival’s vault. Conjurations of heretofore unknown powerful spells appeared in his mind. Benefitting from his newfound Magick, the old sorcerer fashioned six Arrows of Slaying with fletching of the tail feathers of the deadly Tuscon, a completely black bird of prey whose bite and talons created mortal wounds. Limited Wish and Permanency Spells completed the unerring deadly arrows. The aged wizard vainly called the projectiles Arrows of Clysis. Casting the high-level spells weakened old Clysis, and he relied more and more on his apprentice, a young thaumaturgist Morlecainen. Ambition and lust for treasure drove Morlecainen. At his mentor’s direction, Morlecainen used two Arrows of Clysis and smote the Head of the Order of Light Sorcerers Kreuseul and his chosen successor Garijane. Morlecainen retrieved an ornate chest from Kreuseul’s vault and returned to his master with the spoils. However, the apprentice failed to attain Kreuseul’s powerful staff and kill the Light Sorcerer’s son.

The bejeweled chest contained a palm-sized orb made of polished glass, a tome with instructions for the legendary Translocation Spell, and importantly a smidgeon of fossilized shypoke eggshells, the material component required for the great Ninth Level Spell. Mastering the Translocation Spell meant escape from Sagain and its ever-threatening suns. Once Clysis possessed the Orb his dreams intensified and filled his fitful attempts at sleep. Clysis repetitively studied the tome. Inexplicable hints from his dreams continued.

Clysis also held a small ornamental box, which was a treasured and symbolic heirloom of Dark Sorcery. Clysis prized the little chest and guarded it dearly, for its possession solidified his position as head of the Dark Order. Unbeknownst to Clysis and all who held it before him, the little chest contained seven ancient Elixirs of Mastery of Magick hidden in little phials in a secret compartment.

Dreams directed Clysis’s deeds and his plans proceeded in orderly fashion. The paranoid old sorcerer did not share his knowledge of the necessary spells with Morlecainen. With Morlecainen’s help Clysis constructed a chamber about thirty paces square with a ceiling the height of eight sorcerers and called it the Room of Sorcery. The Dark Sorcerers filled the Room of Sorcery with powerful and rare items, including the Orb of Dark Knowledge, the chest containing the hidden Elixirs of Mastery of Magick, the ancient and mysterious Tome of Translocation, the Staff of the West Wind, and staff Maia, the last of the Pleiades, also called the Seven Sister Staves.

The Translocation Spell had never been cast upon an area. Clysis painstakingly conjured a Limited Wish to empower the Translocation Spell to whisk the Room of Sorcery and its living and non-living contents to a habitable place.

The slain Light Sorcerer Kreuseul’s son was strong in Magick, did not fear the older sorcerers and death, and was not limited to the healing Magick of his father. Since his early childhood, his mother had trained him in destructive Magick. Wise Kreuseul’s spouse was descended from the Dark Sorcerer Boton Klarje Jhundi. She had never practiced her skills of Dark Sorcery. She shared Kreuseul’s compassion for Sagain and its people and taught her son her skills so that he might be able to use both aspects of Magick for the betterment of Sagain. The boy may have been the first offspring of a light and dark sorcerer.

Whatever I feared has come to pass, she had told her son when she had learned of her kind spouse’s death. There could only be one responsible. He has stolen things from your father’s vault. Make good use of the skills that I have taught you.

The expanding twin suns grew larger in the sky. There was nothing left for it. Clysis and Morlecainen entered the Room of Sorcery. Kreuseul’s son came to Clysis’s keep seeking vengeance for his father. The young sorcerer protected himself with Invisibility and Protection from Magick Spells and fatefully arrived at the Room of Sorcery and slipped inside before Morlecainen closed the door and, unbeknownst to Clysis and Morlecainen, stowed away in the Room of Sorcery.

Clysis made ready and began conjuring. The Old Sage applied amber to his left palm and grasped the Staff of the West Wind. Clysis crushed shypoke eggshells, made a series of complex gestures, uttered unsettling phrases, and correctly cast the Translocation Spell. Sagain and all other worlds touched by Magick felt the ninth level spell’s great foreboding wave on the sea of Magick. The powerful spell whisked the three sorcerers and the Room of Sorcery with its contents away from the doomed world of the expanding suns.

The Sorcerers’ bodies and minds ripped through the fabric of space and time. Absolute darkness… cold… void… then colors, and energies… They passed through vortex after vortex of color and energy. Pain coursed through every nerve ending and forces drew the air from their lungs and prevented concentration. Grayness enveloped the Room of Sorcery.

Then intense redness flashed all around them.

Intense redness again filled Donothor’s skies. The Priestess Knarra sensed a great wave on the Sea of Magick, looked to the south, and felt dread.

The brief unnerving red coloration disrupted the birthday celebration of twin Dark Elf Princesses Alluna and Businda in Black Dragon’s Horn in the depths of the eastern Lachinor. Dark Elf King Cellexa halted the affair and sent his family to the royal residence. High Guard Norlen personally escorted the identical twins and their mother Queen Myrrhna. Norlen fancied Alluna and from childhood had the uncanny ability to differentiate the twins, besting even their father the King. Queen Myrrhna wore her ever present purple lenses that hid her tell-tale blue gray eyes from the Dark Elf people. King Cellexa had bypassed millennia of enmity between Dark Elves and Gray Elves and chose beautiful Gray Elf Myrrhna as his life mate. The ancient Dragonlord Xollos had a talon in the affair and acted as matchmaker. Commandant Virnan placed the city on high alert and King Cellexa called an urgent meeting of the community leaders

Dark Elf scholars reported the ancient archives told of three episodes of the red glow 2000 years ago, 2001 years ago, and before written records.

. Magick touched the mighty Dragonlord Xollos, who felt a great wave on the sea of Magick. The intense redness faded after a few moments. Myrrhna’s father Arthur and brother Garnet stayed behind in young dragon guise, which allows the undetected Gray Elves access to the Dark Elf Citadel. The Dragonlord felt a foreboding sense and flew off to the west.

The travelers from doomed Sagain arrived. Clysis collapsed. Casting the powerful spells cost the old sorcerer’s life. Clysis’s death left Morlecainen in possession of great treasures, including the old sorcerer’s staff, the Staff of the West Wind.

Morlecainen gave nary a moment to grief. The towering sorcerer stepped through the door and surveyed the new realm. They had arrived in a hot, muggy fen. A bright yellow sun danced in the sky overhead. Sights and sounds of life abounded around him. Morlecainen slowly waved his left hand, sprinkled fine powder, and uttered a short conjuration. He detected only faint lifeforces and minor waves of Magick in the distance. Magick filled the Room of Sorcery and hid a young invisible stowaway and old Staff of Magick.

The young stowaway, son of Kreuseul, slipped away unnoticed into the swamp with his father’s staff Pleione, spell book, robe of Sagain, and as much booty as he could carry from the Room of Sorcery.

Morlecainen held tightly to his ill-gotten staff Maia, another of the Seven Sisters Staves. The many sounds and smells of the swamp, the boy’s Invisibility Spell, and Morlecainen’s exhaustion helped the youth remain undetected. The young sorcerer slipped past the tall wizard. Old Clysis’s death quenched the boy’s thirst for vengeance. He did not know the arrow that slew his father flew from Morlecainen bow. His anger gave way to survival instinct. He had promised his father and mother that he would use Magick judiciously.

Ǿ ∞ Ǿ

Several hours passed. The redness did not return. Dragonlord Xollos and several drakes came back to Black Dragon’s Horn. Xollos went to the royal residence and joined the council meeting.

Xollos addressed the gathered Dark Elves, My Nightwings and I have scoured the swamp. I personally flew over the dead zone. This area is unchanged. An area of deep swamp is disturbed in the wastelands to the south and west. It’s an area infested by goblins and other vermin. There is no widespread destruction. A small structure sits in the swamp. Many frightened goblins are running about.

King Cellexa said, Lord Xollos, have you experienced this in your lifetime?

Xollos answered, No, but my ancestors recorded flashes of redness in the skies.

Dark Elf scholars reported the ancient archives told of episodes of the red glow 2000 and 2001 years ago.

Elderly Bealla added, A third episode is mentioned in unwritten prehistory.

Xollos said, My ilk recorded a third episode 3585 years ago, matron.

King Cellexa said, What are your thoughts in the matter, Lord Xollos?

Xollos said, I’ve no explanation, my friend. But… though I can’t define how… I just know the world has changed. I get a foreboding sense about the whole matter.

King Cellexa followed, Can you elaborate my friend?

Xollos said, I’ll try. It’s Magick. Powerful Magick. Think of Magick as a great sea. Most simply look out across its waters. Some wiggle their toes in the shoreline. Magick touched me long ago. I don’t know why. How? Had something to do with a strange gray stone that struck me and induced a long sleep. Thereafter, visions entered my dreams. Everyone touched by Magick, everyone whose toes wriggle in the water’s edge, senses the presence of others doing the same. Most times you feel little ripples. Other times, great waves. The more powerful the Magick, and the closer you are to its source, the greater the wave. I sense a great wave in the depths of the Lachinor. Its like feeling I get from the land north of the river. My mentor Xordor spoke of a great sorceress revered by men whose keep rests far to the north. From the great distance she is just a prominent wave. Many years ago, I sensed her in the East during the great war.

Cellexa said, Pirates, merchants and brigands tell of such a sorceress, but also say she never treads south of the trifurcation of the great River Luumic.

Xollos replied, My summation too. More Magick appeared after the redness and moves northwest of the river. The world has changed, Elf-King. We’d best stay prepared.

Unbeknownst to the Dark Elves the flash two millennia earlier had heralded Knarra’s arrival. The year before the sorceress’s paternal aunt the mighty Prismatic Dragon Taekora had reached Donothor in similar fashion. Dark Sorcerer Boton Klarje fomented the flash of redness in antiquity and the blueness that followed some days later was the result of his departure. Boton’s actions created the thread of Magick that connected Donothor with the world of Magick Sagain.

Kreuseul’s youthful son’s journey began with a single step. His father’s staff steadied his nerves and aided his steps in the muck. Great mountains loomed in the distance. The stowaway had adventures and misadventures, settled on the name Roscoe, established residence between Hillsdale and Lyndyn, and called his home Briar Garden. Roscoe’s staff made him aware of Knarra’s presence in the east and their common origins.

Three

Morlecainen established his domicile in the swamp, built upon the Room of Sorcery, established a sanctuary, and called his home Ylysis, the name of a childhood holiday location. The wily sorcerer easily subjugated denizens of the swamp. The plentiful goblins were exquisitely sensitive to Charm Spells. An ogre named Fange served without being charmed and became his most loyal minion. Morlecainen painstakingly inscribed Ylysis on a piece of slate that Fange had found in a creek bed. His minions steadily enlarged Ylysis and the sorcerer’s sphere of influence.

The sorcerer’s interests occurred in the wild swamp between Dark Elf and Gray Elf lands. Dark Elf scouts from Black Dragon’s Horn in the east and Gray Elf scouts from the western Lachinor investigated the activity. Morlecainen’s pursuits occupied the goblins and led to less mischief from the annoying swamp denizens. Black dragons surveyed the goings on at Ylysis from the skies and reported to the Dragonlord Xollos and Dark Elf King Cellexa. For two years the sorcerer’s activities did not conflict with the interests of other peoples of the swamp.

Magick touched Morlecainen’s new world. Strong forces of Magick manifest deep in the great swamp and north and east of the great River Luumic. Minimal emanations of Magick also appeared to the north and west and increased in intensity over the seasons. Morlecainen required materials for his spells and sent his goblin minions across the river, where they befouled the forests and came into conflict with the seven clans of dwarves. The dwarves fought and expelled the interlopers. Morlecainen responded and led his forces of goblins, hobgoblins, and the odd ogre across the River Luumic and laid waste the lands. The dwarves’ army met his forces and a great battle ensued. Morlecainen sent many spells against the dwarves. A tall warrior with an exceptional blade and protection from Magick turned the tide of battle and neared the sorcerer’s very position. Morlecainen smote the fighter with one of four irreplaceable arrows of Clysis, which attained their lethality from their Tuscon feather fletching. The sorcerer escaped. Dwarves pursued him across the river but lost him in the depths of the swamp. Morlecainen’s alliance of goblins, hobgoblins and ogres had failed.

Ǿ ∞ Ǿ

Black dragons monitored the events from the air and reported to the Black Dragonlord Xollos and Dark Elf King Cellexa. The sorcerer warred with the dwarves. Ancient enmity between dwarves and Dark Elves stemmed for conflicts of old. Generations of Dark Elves lived their lives without contact with the short stout folk who lived north of the great river. Now the sorcerer’s actions brought dwarves into the Lachinor. Great numbers of dwarves clustered north of the river. Dragonlord Xollos and Cellexa sat in council.

Cellexa commented, I grow ever wary of this sorcerer.

Xollos replied, What say your scouts?

The King answered, His domain teems with goblins and the odd ogre and hobgoblin. His activity remains confined to the central Lachinor and the lands north of the River Luumic. He has not encroached on Dark Elf land. In fact, we have seen fewer transgressions by goblins since his arrival.

Xollos said, My Dark Wings confirm your scouts’ observations. I have told my brethren to stay out of bow range and avoid contact. The sorcerer led a force of thousands of goblins across the River Luumic. Few returned. Dwarves crossed in river, but only in small numbers. Many now mill about the northern banks of the river.

Cellexa said, My grandfather Emaohi advised to know one’s enemy. Although the sorcerer has made no moves against us, his collecting goblins and drawing dwarves into the Lachinor concern me. What are his goals?

Xollos replied, It’s the unknown factor. His Magick differs him from other foes.

Cellexa mused, The enemy of my enemy is my friend does not apply. He enlists our goblin enemies to fight our ancestral dwarfish adversaries. Dwarves have been an enemy out of sight but not out of mind. Greedy little blighters befoul the depths of the world as much as the goblins besmirch the forests. I don’t want them in the Lachinor.

Xollos chuckled, Time has not dulled your folk’s enmity for the dwarves. Perhaps his occupying and keeping the goblins busy is good enough. He has fomented no ill deeds against us.

Cellexa said, I sense you prefer watchful waiting.

Xollos answered, Very close watching, my friend. Now, I’d relish some of your prohibited Detlor leaf.

Cellexa said, Courtesy of my Gray Elf father-in-law. But be careful. We don’t want to reveal the Queen’s secret.

Xollos accepted the leaf and filled his old briar pipe and said, Never. Still astounds me that a Gray Elf is the Dark Elves queen.

Four

Dreams troubled Morlecainen and filled his mind with suggestions. Some confused and others terrified him. A dream hinted he search the Room of Sorcery’s. artifacts, including the mysterious orb taken from the Light Sorcerer Kreuseul’s vault. The sorcerer located and eased the sphere from its resting place and examined its smooth surface. Lights flickered within the device and it gave off vague mauve auras. Morlecainen concentrated and muttered many incantations. Nothing happened. The fatigued sorcerer returned to his bedchamber and fell asleep.

Shapeless redness entered his dreams.

                            Wisps…

                            Threads…

                            Threads of Magick…

                            Threads of fate…

                            Threads of time…

                            Threads connecting worlds…

                            Dreams connecting worlds…

                            Dreams of Magick…

                            Magick connecting dreams…

                            Magick connecting worlds…

                            Dream raiders…

                            Elf pressure…

                            Albtraum…

                            Albträume, elf dreams, nightmares…

                            Dreams…

An oddly familiar voice entered his thoughts and said, You have access to unfathomed knowledge. You must give of yourself to access my knowledge. Hold the orb, pronounce loyalty to Grayness, swear fealty to me, and feed the orb’s surface your blood. You’ll be richly rewarded.

The sorcerer spoke, Who…

The voice continued, Who, indeed. I am the captive spirit of the Orb. I gave old Clysis the knowledge to whisk you away from Sagain. I grant you the knowledge of new spells whilst you slumber. I am the source of your new understanding and the instrument of your survival. You need me. Feed me, sorcerer. Respect and appreciate me.

The redness dissipated.

When Morlecainen awakened, he went to the Room of Sorcery, held the orb, sliced his right index finger, muttered, I give my life’s blood for your knowledge, and allowed his blood to drip onto the artifact.

The voice from his dream entered his thoughts, Refreshing!

Morlecainen muttered aloud, Your counsel comes at a high price.

The Orb’s voice replied, The knowledge you gain while sleeping costs you nothing. Appreciate your freedom. From the look of you, I’d say your campaign didn’t go so well.

Morlecainen muttered, The dwarves fight tenaciously, and a great warrior fought with the grimy little bastards. Though he threw no spells, Magick touched him. My spells did not harm him. I had to resort to one of my quartet of arrows to smite him. Narrowly escaped. The little scumbags chased me through the swamp. But I suppose you know these things.

The Orb responded, You have bartered for my help. Ask your questions!

Morlecainen said, How might I defeat the dwarves and gain dominion of the lands north of the great river?

The guttural voice