Young Writers Society

Adsul

The magic of ice was to be expected of a Mage practicing in Faymont. The spells of the Ice Beings of the North cast from their shamans in Winterlake kept Faymont in a perpetual and inescapable winter that blanketed the entire land. The cold was harsh and often, for those without the means to protect themselves, unbearable and deadly. The ice and snow was not kept at bay by a wall or a mere door. It crept through windows and broke through glass. The snow always found a way to torture all in Faymont. The walls of the Fortress of Fay were imbued with the magic of the Ice Mages so that the Baron may have protection from the cold. The only place untouched completely by the cold of the Ice Beings was the bedroom of the Baron.

Adsul felt the magic in the wall as he brushed his hands over its rocky surface. He felt the magic of years of Mages pouring their powers into keeping a Baron warm. The Faymont of old was a warm and inviting place with trees of green and fields of the most beautiful flowers in Uthdore, besides the Garden of Vorad. However, in a fit stupidity beyond Adsul’s understanding, Baron Sulath Turat began a campaign against Winterlake and the Ice Beings. He traveled miles into the North and burnt their crystal ice palaces to the ground. In return, they sent their frost. Adsul thought that this punishment was fair. He thought it right to have the winter continue for eternity to punish the selfish Barons of Faymont. It mattered not to Adsul. He felt no cold.

Once Adsul had thoroughly checked the walls of the Fortress of Fay for weaknesses, as was his charge, he trudged slowly through the wind and snow back to the castle. No snow blew into his face. Long ago, he had spoken softly to the ice with his powers and asked it kindly to spare him from the punishment of the Barons. The winter agreed to his request. This had been their arrangement since that day. The Baron had often requested the same treatment from the winter as Adsul received, but the ice was correct not to trust an Almos. The cold refused the Baron’s request.

Adsul opened the door to the Fortress dungeon, quickly stepped inside, and shut the door to keep the cold out of the Fortress as best as he could. Although Mages were allowed to practice magic openly in the throne room of the Barons, Etmon preferred that Adsul work underground and away from the prying eyes of his relatives. He wanted to make sure that they could not influence Adsul’s work and turn the Mage against his Baron. Adsul thought the pure notion of turning against his Baron was ridiculous. Although he had no love for the trickery and evil of the Etmon and the Almos, Torbel had charged Adsul to serve the Baron when he was still alive and Adsul did just that. Adsul never failed in his duties as Court Mage. He did as he was told as soon as he was instructed to do it. Currently, he was working on spells to protect soldiers in battle.

Adsul had many Tomes at his disposal. Nothing like the library of spells that Alder possessed through his position as High Mage, but Adsul was able to find what he needed with ease. As Adsul searched for protective enchantments, he suddenly began to feel tired. He placed his book down and laid his head down to get some rest. The Baron was away on business. The enchantments were not needed until he got back. Rest was in order.

“Really, Adsul? You open yourself up to attack that easily?” a voice said.

Adsul opened his eyes to find himself in total darkness. Had he been abducted? Adsul attempted to conjure a small light with his hands, but his magic seemed to have disappeared. He looked around. There was nothing but the darkness.

“What trick is this?” Adsul asked the darkness.

“A spell that the Elves taught me, my old friend.” The voice said behind Adsul.

Adsul whipped his head around to find a familiar old man standing in front of him. The old man had kind, wise eyes and long, white hair.

“Rangorn?” Adsul asked.

“Hello, Adsul.” Rangorn said.

“What cunning feat of magic have you performed?” Adsul asked.

“I reached out to your mind and forced you into slumber so that I would be able to speak with you.” Rangorn said.

“May I speak to you in the light?” Adsul asked.

“Of course, Adsul.” Rangorn said.

The darkness evaporated into nothingness and replaced itself with a soft, warm light. Trees appeared and surrounded the two Mages. They soared higher than Adsul could strain his eyes to see. Adsul smelt a forest and heard birds around him. It was an impressive illusion.

“What is this place?” Adsul asked.

“It is where I grew up in Woodfair with the Elves. These were the first trees with whom I whispered. I spent many summers laying under the sun and loving the world around me.” Rangorn said.

“It is beautiful. But Rangorn, what is so important that you must trespass inside my mind?” Adsul asked.

“I needed to speak with a Mage that was still a part of the order. You are the only one I could trust.” Rangorn said.

“Do you not trust Warque or Lerage? What about Raydan?” Adsul asked.

“Warque is dead, Adsul. He was killed for knowing me and being a Mage of Osfort. Lerage is too close to Draton. I fear he would spread what I am about to say. Raydan is too easily threatened by Woraugh. I needed to speak with a Mage who would not succumb to threats.” Rangorn said.

“I see. Please, speak your mind.” Adsul said.

“Tell me, old friend: are you pleased with Alder as the High Mage?” Rangorn asked.

“That is… a difficult question.” Adsul said.

“Why?” Rangorn asked.

“Now that he is the High Mage, I respect his authority and his decisions. However, I know that he secured that position through Uskban and I do not feel comfortable with that fact.” Adsul said.

“Do you know of his killing spree?” Rangorn asked.

“Of course,” Adsul said. “All Mages do. He announced to us, without the Osfort Mages present, that he had murdered them all. I was outraged, but he said he had approval from the crown.”

“From what crown? Uskban’s? An Acktur would never permit murder.” Rangorn said.

“I know this, but Alder said that any investigation into the matter would result in imprisonment by order of the King.” Adsul said.

“More lies!” Rangorn yelled.

“I am sorry, my friend. There is nothing I can do to stop Alder.” Adsul said.

“I understand,” Rangorn said. “I have but one more question…”

Rangorn could not speak another word before total darkness engulfed the illusion. Adsul awoke with a hand on his back. He turned around and was startled to see the hand of Ormina Almos.

“I didn’t realize that my son charged you to sleep through all hours of the day.” Ormina said.

“Forgive me, Lady Almos,” Adsul said. “Is there something you require of me?”

“Yes,” Ormina said, her snake eyes almost forcing Adsul to look away in fear. “The Almos are meeting in the throne room.”

“Are you sure?” Adsul could not hide his incredulous expression.

“Of course I am,” Ormina said. “I organized the meeting.”

“Isn’t it strange that the most influential family in Faymont would meet when the Baron, and patriarch of the family, is not present?” Adsul asked.

“Watch your tongue, Mage. Do not test me. I am not Etmon. Now come along to the throne room. You will be needed in the discussion.” Ormina said.

“Of course, my Lady. I live to serve the Baron of Faymont, after all.” Adsul said with a smile.