The Defender: Elderwood

Allan ran.

He’d been running for three days. He thought at the end of the first day the guards would give up. Early into the second day of his flight from Elderwood Ford, he passed by a village. He didn’t know the name of the village, but he did know that it was at the far western edge of the domain of the Lord of Elderwood. Beyond that the Lord, and the Lord’s guardsmen, had no authority. Or so Allan had hoped.

By the middle of the morning, Allan saw that his hope was dashed. Six guardsmen were still following him, five on foot, and their leader on horseback. They had left moving steadily west, trying to pick up his trail. Allen kept running.

He slept as best he could up in a tree that night. The next morning he decided to keep running. He wasn’t going to waste time with hope and observation. He would keep going.

He wished he could stop running. He wished he could turn himself into the guards. He wished he could return to the city, and make his case. Foolish wishes all, he told himself. The man who killed Elena because she refused him did nothing of the sort. If I hadn’t avenged her, no one else would have.

On the third day of his escape from Elderwood Ford, Allan stopped late in the afternoon. Unlike his stop on the second day, it wasn’t to look behind him. He’d picked up the rough outline of an old road earlier that day. The road dated back to the time of the mages, and the wars to end their terror. The road consisted of paving stones, and sections of dirt where stones had been removed. It was regular enough to follow, and smooth enough that he could make good time.

Allan stopped because the road had almost come to an end. Ahead of him was a castle, or more truthfully, the ruins of a castle. Allan had no idea what it looked like when it was in use, but it didn’t appear impressive to him. Certainly not as impressive as the castle of the Lord of Elderwood.

The first sight of the castle Allan got was of the stone walls that had protected it. In its prime, the walls were twice as tall as the tallest man. Some sections of the walls were still that high, but most were much shorter. The walls surrounded a rectangular stone building three floors high. Half of the end of the structure that Allan was approaching had fallen in. Only a small portion of the roof was still intact.

From the instant he saw the castle, Allan knew what it was. It has to have been the home of a mage. Everyone knows the mages lived out in the country. That was so they could protect themselves from soldiers sent by Lords or Princes.

Allan glanced around. The trees here are fairly tall. Maybe, back then, the land was cleared. Maybe the mages had spells that protected them.

He heard a voice on the wind. The guards are following the road, just like me!

He turned back to the castle. There might still be spells there. There could be traps.

It’s going to be night soon. I need a place to hide, and rest, and eat the last of my food. There’s not another place to hide anywhere around here, except up a tree again. If the guards are on the old road, then they’ll know to look around here. If I climb a tree tonight, they’re bound to find me this time.

They’re bound to search the castle, too.

Well, I know how to hide within a building. This is another building, yes? If I hide here, and they don’t find me, maybe they’ll give up.

The noise from the guards got louder. I have to take that chance. I don’t have any other places to hide.

Allan advanced on the castle. He found a section of wall that he didn’t have to struggle to clear. He scrambled from the wall to a window that had long since been broken out. He slipped through empty hole in the castle wall. He entered a wide room centered on a long stone table. There were no chairs around the table, and there was no decoration on the walls.

He saw a door leading out of the room as he heard the sound of a horse’s hooves clattering around the outer wall. He dashed to the door and pushed. It didn’t move. He glanced down and saw a doorknob. He turned it; it moved after a couple of tries.

The door opened into a hallway. I don’t think the bedrooms would be down here. I’ll see if there’s a way up. He walked down the hallway. He passed two pairs of doors on either side, then came to a narrow, circular stairway. He paused long enough to catch his breath, then walked up the stairs.

The stairway led to another corridor. The corridor seemed wide enough for two men to walk beside each other without touching themselves or the walls. In the dim light, he could see more doors on either side. Most, though, were open. He decided to follow the corridor to see where it led.

He peeked past the first open door he came to. He saw what appeared to be the remains of a bed and blankets. The posts stood, but the canopy was gone and the cloth was in tatters. He found similar scenes of decay in the other rooms he looked into.

Halfway down the corridor, on his right, was another stairway. It was narrower than the one he came up. He decided not to go further up, but to keep searching the rooms on this floor.

Past the second stairway was a row of doors to his left, but nothing to his right. He pushed open the first door he came to. Inside the room was a tub, a toilet, a basin, and the remains of a waist-high cabinet. A bathing room.

A memory rose up in Allan’s mind. It was cool autumn night, several months ago. He and Elena found the home of a wealthy merchant. It was vacant; the merchant and his family were away on some personal errand. He and his sister had never been in such a residence before. They were aware of some of how the wealthy lived, but never had firsthand experience. One of their discoveries was that not all the rooms inside the home had doors that locked. Indeed, only two did: the parents’ bedroom, and the bathing room.

Allan looked at the door of this bathing room. There was a lock he could turn. He turned it; it moved after two attempts.

The guards might be suspicious of a locked door. Or, they might assume that if they can’t get in, I couldn’t. He leaned through the doorway; he could barely hear footsteps from below. I can’t keep wandering around. I’ll have to try it.

He closed the door and turned the lock. He found a piece of the cabinet that he could pick up. He moved it so that it could block the door if the lock was forced. He edged down behind the tub. I suppose, this time, it’s good that I haven’t yet become a man. A man might not fit down here.

Allan waited. Time passed before he heard footsteps on the floor of the corridor. More time passed before someone took hold of the doorknob to open the door. The man on the other end of the door tried a few times. When the door didn’t open, he walked away. More time went by, followed by the sound of footsteps passing the bathing room door.

“The boy doesn’t seem to be here, Sergeant,” a man said. Allan was surprised he could hear the voice so clearly. They must be in front of that second stairway.

“Still one more floor to search,” a second man replied.

“Sergeant, this was a mage’s castle. I don’t like the idea of being in this place after dark.”

“The magic’s gone away,” a third man said.

“So’s part of this building,” the first man replied.

“You’re right,” said the second man. “If the boy’s here, he could sneak up on us at night. If he isn’t, we could still get hurt by something falling. Right, men, we’ll camp outside, and search the grounds tomorrow.”

“If we don’t find him?” the third man asked.

“We’ve been at this three days, and we’re in the wilderness. If we can’t find him, maybe some wild beast will. We got this far. We’ll head home tomorrow, after we look up some trees around here.”

Allan sighed to himself, but he didn’t relax until the footsteps went away. He closed his eyes for what he thought would be a few moments of rest. When he woke up, he used the empty toilet. He decided to see where the guards were camped, so he’d know to sleep on the opposite side of the castle. He walked down the corridor to a bedroom door. There was a vacant spot on the wall where a window had been. He approached the window slowly so as not to be heard.

He was stunned when he got to the window. It’s the middle of the morning! He looked outside the window. Halfway between the castle’s front gate and the road leading here were the remains of a campfire. He listened for voices for a time, and heard nothing. The guards are heading back. I’m safe!

Well, safe from them, at least. I need food and water if I’m going to survive.

He left the castle and explored the land around it. Years ago, he and his sister had learned that they could hide out in the wilderness outside the city during the summer, if the struggle on the streets became too risky. Finding that out meant that they had to learn how to survive in the wilderness. They found a reliable man who taught them how to hunt for game, and how to scavenge for fruits and vegetables.

All Allan had on him to hunt with was his knife. Without his sister, hunting wasn’t going to be easy. He decided to assemble a couple of traps for smaller wildlife, and hope for the best.

Finding vegetables turned out to be easy. There had been a garden along the back of the castle. Although it hadn’t been tended in ages, the vegetables and herbs raised there continued to grow. Some had spread beyond the original garden patch.

Allan found apples in the wilderness near the old road. The lines of apple trees told him that, when this castle had been occupied, there had been an orchard here. There were no other fruits to be found, and if there had ever been a field of grain, shrubs and weeds had displaced it.

A short distance from the ruined castle was a stream. The water seemed good enough to drink, so Allan filled his canteen. The moment it was full he realized that he’d have to find something larger, or he’d be walking to the stream several times a day. An instant later he wondered if the castle had its own water well.

He took time to eat and drink before exploring the castle to locate the well. He climbed through the open window to the dining room, then began searching the ground floor. He found a reception room, a kitchen with much of the cookware intact, a wide room with overturned tables, and another room with ruined planks of wood. In that room he came across a door that opened onto a dark stairway leading down.

That leads under the castle. That might be where the well is. Allan peered down the stairway. Even after a moment, it’s still dark. I’d better make a torch.

It took time to find a piece of wood that would make a usable torch. Finding it caused him to explore the second floor. He found another bathing room, and two rooms with scraps of cloth on the floor. He wrapped a few scraps around a strip salvaged from a bedpost. He located other bits of wood, and started a fire. He touched the wrapped end of the post to the flames. He tapped out the tiny fire, then headed back downstairs.

The stairway leading below the castle ended in a short corridor barely wide enough for a man to walk down. On either side of the corridor were closed doors. Ahead of him was an open entranceway. He sniffed the air and smelled water. He walked to the entranceway.

As he passed the door closed doors, Allan felt an odd sensation. It wasn’t fear, or hunger, or grief. It wasn’t anything he’d ever felt before. He dismissed the feeling; he needed to find the well.

He found it past the entranceway. It opened into a circular room. Metal bars were stuck into the stone floor framing a circle cut into the floor. The bars held up a water basket, and a pulley system to raise and lower the basket. Instead of rope, metal chains were used to raise and lower the basket.

He peered down the opening. His easily saw the reflection of his improvised torch; water was not that far down.

He examined the well apparatus. The basket was secured to the chair with a hook, which meant it could be removed and water carried anywhere. The basket itself was also metal. Noticing that caused him to examine the chains, the basket, and the bars holding everything up.

You’d think they’d have rusted by now, but they appear to be fine. Well, if they’re fine, then I should use them.

Allan lowered the basket into the well to fill it. It took him some effort to pull the basket up once it was full. He struggled with the basket for a moment before he unhooked it. Realizing how heavy it was going to be, he dumped about half the water in the basket back down the well. He picked up the lightened basket by the hook with his right hand, and the torch with his left.

As he walked down the narrow corridor, he felt the same sensation as he did when he first passed the pair of doors. There was no space to put anything down, and the torch was getting low. He decided to come back once he’d settled himself upstairs.

He took over one of the bedrooms on the second floor. He brought in the basins from the bathing rooms. He poured some of the water from the basket into one. He found a thick enough scrap of cloth so that he could give himself a quick wash.

He took the other basin to the garden and filled it with vegetables and herbs. He brought that back to the bedroom. He went to the kitchen and found a pot and a wide metal pan. Both had a bit of rust on them, but otherwise appeared solid. He took them to the bedroom, then found more scrap wood and cloth. He started another fire, this one on the pan. He filled the pot with water halfway. He cut up the vegetables and dumped them into the pot. He returned to the kitchen for a bowl and a spoon.

It’s going to take time for the soup to cook. Everything seems safe, so I guess I can figure out what happened down by the well.

Allan improvised a second torch and lit it with his cooking fire. He headed back down the narrow stairway. Once again, when he passed by the rooms he felt something.

He edged to his right. The sensation felt stronger. He reached for the door and put his hand on the knob.

Suddenly, the knob and his hand glowed with a blue light. It wasn’t painful; in fact, it felt good, like the way he felt after a full meal, or getting a compliment from his sister. He turned the knob; it moved without resistance.

The door opened onto a room a few times wider than the door. The room was dark as the door opened, but once Allan stepped through the doorway, a globe in the ceiling came alive with a bright yellow glow.

Facing him were three rows of shelves set into the wall. The other walls were empty. On the top shelf, at about shoulder level, was a short staff of wood and a sheathed sword. On the second shelf was a row of books. On the bottom shelf were rings and jewels.

I’m rich!

Allan reached for the nearest ring. As soon as his hand was over the shelf, it felt warm. He continued to reach for it, but his hand got warmer. He jerked his hand back, and the warmth was gone.

A magical trap.

He reached for the sword. Again his hand warmed as it got closer, and cooled once he pulled it back.

He decided to try for the books. He knew how to read. When their parents were alive, they had taught him and Elena to read. It hadn’t seemed to be a useful skill after they died. One day Elena was telling Allan what a sign meant. A man overheard them, and asked if they could read. Elena said they could. He hired her to carry a letter to another man. The man had a small shop on a side street, and the shop could only be found by reading the signs.

Elena carried out the job. She had no choice; there was the money, but the man who hired her kept Allan at his shop as a guarantee that she’d return. She did return, and with another letter. The man paid her for the errand. It was then that they understood that reading was useful. “Any skill that keeps us from stealing is a good one,” she’d told Allan.

Allan reached for the nearest book. This time, his hand felt cold. He moved his hand to the right; it felt colder. He reached to his left. His hand slowly warmed, until he came to a book on the far left end. He touched the spine of the book and felt nothing.

He pulled the book from the shelf; still nothing. There was nothing on the cover to say what the book was about. He opened the book to the first page.

“This is the testimony of Damien, one of the last of the great mages,” was what the writing on the page said. It was handwritten, in a flowing script Allan thought belonged to a nobleman. There was nothing else on the page, so he turned it.

At first glance, there was nothing on the page but twisted lines. Then other lines appeared, and the whole formed into letters and words. Allan was stunned for an instant, then he read what the words said.

“My name is Damien, and I have lived what I believe to be a good and proper life as a mage, a caster of spells. I am writing this book to preserve the knowledge I have gained. The power of magic, ‘magus,’ is fading fast now. My fellow mages are unwisely fighting over the centers of magus that remain. Various nobles and princes are using this as a chance to seize land and power. In time someone will cast their eye on me. I cannot resist every foe, so I shall use the time I have left to make this testimony, so that someday the truth about magic will be known.

“This testimony, along with a selected few items, should be able to survive the time to come. To you who finds this, I encourage you to read on. Learn the spells within the books. Understand the power of magic. Above all, absorb the history of this time. Know the mistakes that were made, the abuses committed, and the schemes that formed and collapsed.

“The Second Age of Magic is coming to an end. As there was a First, so there will likely be a Third. It is up to you, of that later age, to see what those of this Age did wrong. You must learn to use magic more wisely than we have. You must resist the temptation to use magic for personal gain. Too many in this Age failed to do so. Their folly has led to the time we are in.

“However, I am moving too far ahead in this story. Allow me to give you a brief sketch of the First Age and the Second Age. This will help you to understand these times, and what I have to say.”

Allan closed the book, then opened it again. This time the words were clear as a sunny day. Knowing that it would take him time to read the book, and remembering his soup, left the treasure room and returned to the bedroom. He read more while he ate his soup.

“If you can read this tome, it means you have the ability to use magus to cast spells. I doubt magus will ever entirely go away. Even now, as its power wanes, children are still brought into this world with the ability to invoke it.

“Your talent will not go to waste. I will secure my tomes of spells so that you will be able to use them. You must, however, read this volume first. I have cast spells upon the books, and the other items I am preserving, to prevent you from using them before you are ready. This first volume will not only help you to understand history, but also to understand magus itself. You will need to know what it before you can know how to invoke it.

“You must also heed the warnings I give in this testimony. A great deal of wisdom is required in the use of this power and the casting of spells. There is your protection to consider. I trust you are reading this in a time where magic is rare, if not entirely unknown. If you are seen to cast spells, you will be known as a mage. That will paint a target on your back for all to fire at, from princes to common thugs.

“You must also see to your character. My fellow mages are being laid low because they abused the skills they learned. It is quite tempting to cast spells to exert your dominance over others. It is tempting to cast spells to make your life easier, without regard to anyone else. These temptations create resentment and jealousy. They create an opening by which you can be attacked by men stirred by angry passion.

“You may not think such a message is worth heeding. Remember that you are probably alone in the world with this ability. One man, or one woman, cannot resist the whole world for very long.”

Allan set aside the book for a moment. Jealousy and resentment, he thought. That is how I feel right now. My sister was murdered because she wouldn’t submit to a man’s lust. That man wasn’t punished because of his wealth, and his connection to Lord Gillam’s family. That made me angry, so I killed him.

Where did those feelings get me? Chased from the city I was raised in. Made an outlaw. Living even more hand-to-mouth in a ruined castle. Maybe magic will help me live a little better. Beyond that, though?

He looked at the book, sitting open at his side. Maybe this man from the past can guide to something better. He sounds like a good soul. Maybe he’ll help me find a use for this new power I have.

Maybe he’ll be the teacher Elena always wanted us to find.

*****

Thanks for reading the first chapter of the first Defender story. To learn more about this book, and the series, go to this page at my blog:

http://robertlcollins.blogspot.com/p/the-defender-series.html