witch, until you’ll regret having ever set foot in my domain!” Benen needed to keep her attention. He had seen a golden form approaching behind the wizard.
She laughed at the threat. It was a horrible high-pitched cackling.
“You really know nothing,” the wizard said when she finished laughing. “ If I choose to kill you with magic, you can be sure I’ll bind you and rend your soul until you’ll wish you were never born!”
Benen had never known such a thing was possible. He really needed to do more research, read more books — should he survive this. Timmon was now only a few metres behind the wizard. Benen saw him raise his arms high above his head, readying to hit her from behind. He needed to keep her attention.
“I don’t believe you, you’re a liar!” He put as much mocking and derision as he could into the statement.
The wizard’s face became a mask of rage. She started incanting, her arms moving in motions Benen recognized as Sun magic. As she cast the spell, she moved one of her arms so that it went above and behind her head where it hit the cold golden body of Timmon who had been about to bring down his own arms to hopefully stop the wizard’s casting.
“What the —!” she exclaimed and whirled around.
Timmon did bring down his arms then, smashing his fists into the wizard’s head, caving it in. The spell holding Benen up in the air ended abruptly and he fell to the ground.
“You killed her!” Benen got up and went to look to make sure, but there could be no doubt; the head was a crushed mess of brains and bone fragments.
“I didn’t mean to. She turned around at the last minute. Is it really bad?” Timmon’s golden face looked worried.
“I don’t know. I’m glad you stopped her from killing me , but I don’t know if other wizards will come looking for her now and, when they find out she was killed, if they’ll seek to avenge her.”
“But she won’t be a ghost like I was, right?”
“Oh. No. Well, I don’t think so. Although your body is a product of magic, I think her death at your hands is too indirect to be called death by magic . . . I hope.” Benen truly wasn’t sure at all and he dreaded the possibility of this hag haunting him. He had been lucky that Timmon had been so understanding, but he was sure the wizard would do all that was in her ghostly power to make his life a living torment should she come back as a ghost.
As he pondered this, the leader of the village came forward, stopping a few metres from Benen.
“Wizard?” he asked. “I would like to thank you and your . . . creature, for protecting us.”
Benen went up to the man. “I’m sorry, but this is just a small reprieve. If this wizard came here to take a child, it is because that child has the gift to do magic that all wizards possess. That child, if left untrained, will be a danger to itself and everyone around it. A master will have to come and find the gifted boy or girl and take them away to be trained. The best I can do is make sure the wizard who does this is one that is kind, one who will not torment his charge.”
“Is there no way you can train the child?”
“I am a mere journeyman, an apprentice needs a master. I would be doing the child a disservice if I tried to teach them.”
Benen reassured the man he would do his best for the child before returning to his tower in the sky; taking Timmon back with him.
He needed to contact a master wizard, someone who could tell him if there would be repercussions for the death of the hag. He had met a wizard in his first year as a journeyman who had told him of moots, the meetings where wizards gathered. He had missed that moot when events in his life had taken priority and, not knowing where or when the next ones were held, had given them no further thought. But now, this was exactly what he needed. He had to meet more wizards, learn more about their society, share their knowledge. At a moot he could do all this and more.
There were
She laughed at the threat. It was a horrible high-pitched cackling.
“You really know nothing,” the wizard said when she finished laughing. “ If I choose to kill you with magic, you can be sure I’ll bind you and rend your soul until you’ll wish you were never born!”
Benen had never known such a thing was possible. He really needed to do more research, read more books — should he survive this. Timmon was now only a few metres behind the wizard. Benen saw him raise his arms high above his head, readying to hit her from behind. He needed to keep her attention.
“I don’t believe you, you’re a liar!” He put as much mocking and derision as he could into the statement.
The wizard’s face became a mask of rage. She started incanting, her arms moving in motions Benen recognized as Sun magic. As she cast the spell, she moved one of her arms so that it went above and behind her head where it hit the cold golden body of Timmon who had been about to bring down his own arms to hopefully stop the wizard’s casting.
“What the —!” she exclaimed and whirled around.
Timmon did bring down his arms then, smashing his fists into the wizard’s head, caving it in. The spell holding Benen up in the air ended abruptly and he fell to the ground.
“You killed her!” Benen got up and went to look to make sure, but there could be no doubt; the head was a crushed mess of brains and bone fragments.
“I didn’t mean to. She turned around at the last minute. Is it really bad?” Timmon’s golden face looked worried.
“I don’t know. I’m glad you stopped her from killing me , but I don’t know if other wizards will come looking for her now and, when they find out she was killed, if they’ll seek to avenge her.”
“But she won’t be a ghost like I was, right?”
“Oh. No. Well, I don’t think so. Although your body is a product of magic, I think her death at your hands is too indirect to be called death by magic . . . I hope.” Benen truly wasn’t sure at all and he dreaded the possibility of this hag haunting him. He had been lucky that Timmon had been so understanding, but he was sure the wizard would do all that was in her ghostly power to make his life a living torment should she come back as a ghost.
As he pondered this, the leader of the village came forward, stopping a few metres from Benen.
“Wizard?” he asked. “I would like to thank you and your . . . creature, for protecting us.”
Benen went up to the man. “I’m sorry, but this is just a small reprieve. If this wizard came here to take a child, it is because that child has the gift to do magic that all wizards possess. That child, if left untrained, will be a danger to itself and everyone around it. A master will have to come and find the gifted boy or girl and take them away to be trained. The best I can do is make sure the wizard who does this is one that is kind, one who will not torment his charge.”
“Is there no way you can train the child?”
“I am a mere journeyman, an apprentice needs a master. I would be doing the child a disservice if I tried to teach them.”
Benen reassured the man he would do his best for the child before returning to his tower in the sky; taking Timmon back with him.
He needed to contact a master wizard, someone who could tell him if there would be repercussions for the death of the hag. He had met a wizard in his first year as a journeyman who had told him of moots, the meetings where wizards gathered. He had missed that moot when events in his life had taken priority and, not knowing where or when the next ones were held, had given them no further thought. But now, this was exactly what he needed. He had to meet more wizards, learn more about their society, share their knowledge. At a moot he could do all this and more.
There were
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