Five years after the fall of the Guild

  A light rain sprinkled across the Foerstian countryside. Leif pulled the hood of his cloak farther over his head. He had hoped to make it to the inn before the rain started but the weather did not seem to care about his hopes.

  Up ahead, the clouds had parted to allow a single ray of sunlight through. It shone down on the small town before him. It would have seemed like a good omen if Leif had believed in omens. The clouds shifted and the ray of light disappeared. Probably nothing, Leif thought.

  He patted the chestnut-brown neck of Emir, and they trotted towards the entrance to the town. He’d been on this road for three days. It had been a full thirty days since Leif left home, although it felt like he’d been gone for months.

  He walked with Emir past the first of the small cottages. Very few people were about due to the rain, but Leif could see faint swirls of smoke rising from nearly every chimney. He continued deeper into the town until he arrived at the main marketplace. Vine-covered shops lined the street on either side. It was quiet for a town market but there were a few people braving the rain.

  Leif approached a man who appeared to be a butcher. He asked about an inn called The Guild. The butcher lifted a large knife and pointed towards the back of his shop, “One street back. It’ll be on your right.”

  Leif worked his way in the general direction that the butcher’s knife had pointed. Sure enough, he came upon a building with a freshly painted sign hanging above the front door. The sign read, “The Guild Inn”. There was an overly crude drawing of a man with a full gray beard in blue robes. The man held a staff in one hand and the other appeared to be holding a burning flame.

  Disappointment flooded through him. A joke then, he thought. It had been a joke, or a mistake, or just a rumor with a shred of truth. Hopefully he’d find another lead to keep him on his journey.

  Leif sat there a moment longer, letting his hopes fall away from him while the rain continued to soak his clothes. He collected his things with a sigh and entered the inn.

  The common room was indeed common, but blessedly warm. A large fire crackled in the fireplace and many of the tables were filled. A few pairs of eyes looked up at him but they all went back to their drinks or their conversations. Most of the patrons ignored him. A petite woman in an apron delivered bowls of stew and large mugs of ale to the group nearest him.

  Leif approached the long bar-counter at the back of the room. A stout man greeted him with a polite close-lipped smile. “Welcome traveler, I’m Rondo, what can I do for ya?”

  Leif nodded towards the stairway past the bar, “A room and a hot meal would be much appreciated.”

  Rondo spoke loudly, as if the whole common room were listening, and made a show of pointing up the stairs, “it’ll be three marks for the night. Take room four down on the right. Horse?”

  Leif nodded and pointed back towards the entrance, then pulled three coins from his coat pocket and set them on the bar.

  “We’ll take care of it,” said Rondo.

  After dropping his belongings and changing into dry clothes, Leif went back to the common room and took a seat at the bar. Although most of the tables were filled, the barstools all sat empty. Rondo set a steaming bowl of stew and a tear of bread on the bar before him. Large chunks of meat floated across the surface and Leif felt his mouth water.

  He burned the roof of his mouth on the first spoonful, but forced himself to gulp down the fiery stew. Rondo leaned against his side of the bar, eyeing him with interest. “What brings you to our patch of the road, mister…?”

  “Leif.”

  “Good to meet you, Leif.” Rondo smiled lazily.

  Before Leif could respond to the rest of Rondo’s question, someone stomped loudly across the room behind him. A man came into view as he passed each of the empty barstools before he plopped himself onto the stool next to Leif. He sloshed a mug of ale down on the counter before him.

  Leif looked at the stranger. The man was taller than Leif, which was saying something. Despite his age, Leif stood taller than most Maedish males. The stranger looked to be just a few years older as well. His straight golden hair fell back and draped over his shoulders. Despite his thick dark clothing, Leif could tell the stranger was well-muscled.

  Something inside Leif burned through him in warning. This man was dangerous. This man was deadly.

  Leif gulped down the scoop of stew he’d been chewing and turned to the newcomer. “Can I help you?” In his periphery, Leif saw a long dagger at the stranger’s waist, and he resisted the urge to put his hand on the knife at his own belt.

  “Leif, meet Vigo.” Rondo interjected, wiping down the bartop.

  Vigo took a drink from the mug in his hand then looked at Leif, “I don’t know. Are you going to answer the barman’s question or are you going to be rude?”

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  Leif was taken aback by the directness of the stranger. Caution filled him, but a bubble of annoyance crept through as well. “You know there are other seats available,” Leif motioned to the line of empty barstools next to them, “any of these look like they could work for you.”

  Vigo chuckled. He downed the rest of his drink then gave Rondo an expectant look as he tapped the edge of the mug. Rondo rolled his eyes, then picked up the mug and filled it from the large cask behind him.

  Leif was considering moving onto the next stool away when Vigo turned back to look at him. “Now, out with it. What brings you to this fine establishment?”

  Leif took a deep breath. He was irked but he supposed Vigo hadn’t done anything threatening. He was probably just the local drunkard, trying to rile him up. Rondo hadn’t seemed concerned by Vigo’s arrival, although Leif didn’t know how much he could trust the innkeeper either. Ultimately, he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with silence.

  He looked at Vigo, then back to Rondo. “I’m looking for any surviving guildmembers. I’m hoping to earn an apprenticeship.”

  “And which guild would that be? Come to work at the bar?” Asked Vigo, as he tipped his head towards Rondo, a smile creeping up at the corners of his mouth.

  “The Inn,” said Rondo. “I’m looking for a witch or wizard to teach me.”

  Vigo laughed heartily. “Thought you’d start by poking around in the bar with the little wizard drawing out front?”

  Rondo looked at Vigo, his face flat. “I drew that picture, you know, and a fine drawing it is.” He turned to Leif, “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Looks like a baby drew it,” Vigo murmured as he swirled the contents of his mug.

  Leif felt a spark of hope return and he leaned again towards Rondo, “I have some ability. I need someone to teach me to master it. I must master it because my family is in danger.”

  Rondo and Vigo both looked at him quietly. Vigo’s smirk was gone so Leif continued. “I’ve traveled from Riga, Maedelund and spoken to many people with supposed knowledge of where a surviving witch or wizard may be. My search has led me here. If there is something you can do to help, I would be in your debt.” Vigo looked at the men with a youthful eagerness.

  “When you say debt, how much specifically are we talking?” asked Vigo, a sly smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  “Bloody hell, Vigo, stop torturing him.” Rondo interjected.

  “Let’s say that you do possess the ability,” said Vigo, “if you were to be trained, learn to use magic, become a wizard, a god-like man essentially, what then?” Vigo took at drink of his ale.

  “Return home. Be a capable enough mage to protect myself, my family, and our interests. That’s it. That’s the goal. In all likelhood, I will take over the family enterprise. Eventually, marry and have children. I am committed to learning for as long as it takes although I intend to return home as soon as practicable once I am trained.” After a brief pause he asked, “You’re a wizard then?”

  Vigo sat, contemplating. When he didn’t respond immediately Leif took it as affirmation. He stood and spoke, “Sir, I have traveled a great distance already and I had planned on going far longer until I found someone like you. I don’t know what words you’re looking for from me but I swear to you that this is a purpose I am dedicated to. I have the required Guild fee. I know there are few of you left. Would it not be a good thing to teach more? Take on more students? Begin rebuilding the Guild?”

  “Okay, enough.” Vigo held up his hand. The earlier mirth in his face had left, and a far more serious expression had taken its place. He lowered his voice. “It is not worth my time to consider without first knowing your ability. Show me what you can do, if you truly have any abilities.”

  Leif’s heart rate increased as he realized he may have finally found someone to help. He knew he needed to show something worthy of praise, but did not want to attempt too much and fail in front of the overbearing mage. He searched for an idea and spotted the tear of bread on the counter before him. He reached out his hand towards the bread. Rondo and Vigo watched him. Leif focused on it, trying to block out everything else. It was a white bread with a golden-brown and cracked crust. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but he knew it had worked before. He found himself wishing he’d taken a bite of it prior to using it as his test subject.

  Leif mentally willed the bread into his hand. He imagined it lifting off the counter and floating towards him. He saw it happen in his mind. The connection between his hand and the bread seemed to be alive and vibrant. The bread would come.

  Nothing happened.

  He closed his eyes and took a breath. Hand still extended, he tried again, forcing everything else out of his mind and willing the bread into his hand. His focused entirely on the bread and where it needed to be.

  Slowly, the bread tipped and began to roll towards him. Leif pulled it to the end of the counter, it tipped over the edge, then he lost it. The bread tumbled off the bar and dropped, bouncing onto the floor between their stools.

  Leif looked up at Vigo. To his surprise, Vigo didn’t laugh or even smirk. His lips curved up in what appeared to Leif to be a small but genuine smile. “I’ve seen worse.”

  “You’ll teach me then?” asked Leif, an excited smile beginning to spread across his face. Rondo winked at him, then pulled the towel from his shoulder and left them to clear one of the tables.

  “Of course I will. I didn’t come all this way for nothing. Plus there’s not exactly hordes of talented boys and girls knocking my door down. I’ll take the limited option available to me because the world needs good wizards. And so does Danaria, and so does the House of Erling.” Vigo stood and spoke again. “I’m going to sleep. Finish your meal, we leave for Danaria in the morning.” He paused for a moment then added, “after breakfast.”

  The elation and relief that Leif had felt at finding a wizard, and being accepted as a student, became subdued. “Danaria?” he asked.

  Vigo nodded, “Yes, the palace.”

  Leif’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t go to the Danarian court,” he paused, “it’s too far from my home in Maedelund.”

  Vigo gave Leif a serious, almost dangerous look. “Just as I have limited options in who to teach, you have an extremely limited choice in where you will be taught. That choice is the palace in Danaria, or to head back home where you came from.”

  Before Leif could respond, Vigo quietly slid a key across the counter to him. “As a precaution, you’re taking the other bed in my room. See you in the morning.”

  Leif wasn’t done with the Danaria conversation but he was utterly confused about the room switch, “Why?”

  As Vigo marched up the stairs towards his room, he looked back over his shoulder and responded, “You were followed.”