Epiphany of an Apprentice

A short story from 'Wilderland Wizard' trilogy: a young-adult fantasy series.

 

 

 

 

The scene in the wilderland was calm and lovely, and just as it had been for centuries. Trees and other manner of greenery crowded the banks of the wild, nameless river but the water refused to flow down the creek that led to the gnome village. Where the tributary usually branched off was a mysterious nothing, holding the water back as effectively as a man-made dam. 

A young sorcerer’s apprentice in royal blue robes crouched in the soggy stream bed, examining the river before him. It was like looking through the side of a fish-tank, except there was no glass. When Zakrius reached his hand out, it dipped into the water, causing ripples in the current. He sensed magic here, but not in the air beside the mysterious phenomenon – it was in the water itself. It was very subtle, and seemed benevolent, ancient, and entirely natural. Whatever was taking place here, the fact remained: the garden village was not getting the water it desperately needed. Judging by the drying clumps of mud in the creek bed, it had been several days since the flow ceased. 

Zakrius tossed a small rock at the short wall of water, and it passed through as though nothing were there. It caused a little drip of a splash, exactly as it would if the rock had broken the river’s surface. There seemed to be nothing he could do there – Zakrius decided that he needed to go and speak with the gnomes themselves.

That was, if fact, the reason he’d traveled all alone for four days through the dangerous wilderland. Despite the mysterious water problem, he found himself smiling a little as he stood, remembering his friends Torc and Halum, whom he’d once saved from a troll’s trap. The funny little men would be excited to see him again and they’d surely be asking him if he’d brought any ‘man-cake’ – that is if they weren’t out in the wilderland somewhere, stumbling into more trouble. 

Because the trees and brush were so thick on the banks, Zakrius decided to travel along the moist creek bed. Although wild and dangerous, the wilderland had a misty, enchanted beauty about it, especially at this time of year. While he made his way through the soft soil, avoiding the wetter spots of mud, the young apprentice found himself just staring into the thick green forest, glad to be out of the confines of the walled fief where his master’s tower was. As his gaze drifted across the mystic scenery, a slight movement at the base of a nearby tree caught his attention. It was a person his same size, dressed in green robes. He had a thick stick, and was plunging it repeatedly into the ground at his feet.

Zakrius didn’t realize it was a goblin until it looked up at him, and their eyes met. Instantly on guard, the apprentice dropped his satchel and got ready to either cast one of his spells, or draw the eighteen-inch quillon dagger sheathed in his belt. The goblin stared at Zakrius strangely, looking hard at him first with one eye, then the other. Being the most sworn enemy of mankind, the boy was taking no chances. He drew his slim sword with his right hand, and held the back of his left hand out in front of him.

“RA-MATHE!”

With the mystical command spoken, a ghostly, gray shield appeared in front of the boy’s left hand, project by the enchanted ring he wore – an aptly named ‘shildring’. It was a medium-sized kite shield, and although it was transparent, no magic or weapon forged by man could penetrate it. When the goblin saw it, his eyes grew even wider and stranger. He dropped his stick and began walking briskly towards Zakrius’s position in the stream bed, his gaze fixed on the magical shield. The closer he came, the more nervous Zakrius got. 

The solitary goblin was quite odd. Although he was unarmed and hadn’t yet made an aggressive move, his unusual staring was making the apprentice very uncomfortable. When he was nearly upon him, Zakrius noticed something else that was unnerving. One of the goblin’s long, pointed ears was twisted in the middle, and broken, hanging down towards his shoulder. Although meaningless, this detail was no less disturbing than the way the goblin was drawn to his shildring. It was almost as if his interest in the shield caused him to forget that it was being held by an armed human. Zakrius briefly considered dismissing the shield, but the goblin was upon him by this time – giving up his best protection didn’t seem to be a smart move.

“What issss that?” the goblin hissed through a mouth full of pointed teeth. He pointed a crooked, clawed finger at the shield. 

Caught off guard by the question, Zakrius couldn’t respond. He stared at the sinewy, dark-skinned creature, deciding where best to aim his first attack.

“Do you usssse it to dig with?” His sinister face was filled with amazement, not malice.

Zakrius began to hope that he could keep the encounter peaceful. He decided to answer the question, but he would not lower his shield or his weapon. “It… it is called a ‘shildring’. It is a magical form of protection given to me by my mentor, Mathis Aurora, the Wizard of Krimsonspire.”

“Sssssooo… you are a human.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Goblinssss hate humanssss.”

Hiding his rising panic, Zakrius thought carefully before he responded. “Well… it may be true that our two races are bitter enemies, but I have no quarrel with you. I see no need for us to do battle today.”

“Your ssssword… do you usssse it to dig with?”

“Uh, no.” Zakrius couldn’t tell if the goblin was making a point about him holding a drawn weapon, or if the odd creature was simply fascinated with digging.

His next question settled it. “What do you usssse to dig with?”

“Um… a shovel?”

“Let me ssssseeeee it.”

“Well, I… I don’t exactly have it with me.”

“Issss it in there?” He pointed a wicked claw at Zakrius’es satchel.

“No.”

“Where isssss it?”

“It’s… it’s… at home, in Krimsonspire-fief.”

“Isssss it far?”

“Well, yes, it’s a four day journey.”

“And you brought nothing elssssse to dig with?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“I live under a waterfall.”

“Oh… well… that’s… that’s very nice for you, I’m sure. Not many goblins live under waterfalls.”

“I’m going to dig a houssssse.”

“And… that’s why you’re so interested in finding something to dig with. Of course.” Zakrius had been suspecting it for a while, but now he was sure – this goblin was not like normal goblins – he was deranged.

“I am interesssssted in finding ssssomething to dig with. Do you have any man-cake?”

The way he changed subjects so abruptly nearly confused, Zakrius, but he recovered quickly, and answered the question honestly. “Yes, actually, but… but I was bringing it to some friends.”

“Sssssoooo… you will not ssssshare it with me?”

“Um, I suppose I could, but, first… first I must ask you to take a step back. So that I have room to reach into my satchel.”

Zakrius truthfully just wanted the creature further away while he was slightly distracted, and he was worried that the goblin might be offended. Strangely enough, the dangerous creature did what the boy asked of him without hesitation. He took four big, almost child-like steps backwards, and continued eyeing him with his weird stare. Still holding his sword, Zakrius reached into his satchel and brought out a little paper-wrapped parcel of cake and tossed it to the goblin. He had brought one for each of his gnome friends, but now they would just have to share. The goblin unwrapped the cake greedily, and gobbled it down in seconds, discarding the wrapper on the bank of the drying creek. Zakrius watched him with astonishment. He’d always been told that goblins were carnivores – and how had he even heard of man-cake when he’d never met a human before?

When the creature was through, he looked sharply back at Zakrius. “We must ssssshake handsssss.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I accept your gratitude, and… we can just part peacefully now if you don’t mind.”

“We must ssssshake handsssss. It issss what humansssss do, isssss it not?”

Zakrius didn’t know what to do. The goblin had not done anything threatening whatsoever, but a part of him suspected that this might be a ploy. Goblins were, by nature, aggressive and destructive, yet this fellow seemed to be innocently interested in Zakrius, besides being quite strange. Zakrius decided to take a chance, and give the goblin the benefit of the doubt. He would shake hands, then insist they part in peace.

Reluctantly sheathing his quillon dagger, but keeping his enchanted shield between them, Zakrius stretched out his hand in friendship. The goblin smiled and approached. It looked evil on his snarling features, but even a smile could look no other way on such a fearsome creature. Neither of them spoke as their hands clasped, and the goblin made no move to attack. He simply stared into Zakrius’es eyes, and continued to smile.

The apprentice had expected the claw to be thin and hard, yet he thought he felt something strange in the goblin’s handshake. It was almost as if he were holding a moist bag of bones – and they were shifting around.

When the handshake was complete, the goblin simply turned and wandered away into the wilderland underbrush. Zakrius watched him go with a strange sense of curiousity. Although this wasn’t his first adventure, this had to have been the single strangest encounter of his young life.

He waited a great many minutes before he dismissed his shield and moved on.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

The gnome village straddled the drying creek he’d been following for the last few hours. A tall, dense hedge surrounded the settlement like the curtain wall of a castle, and even spanned the narrow stream. Not much could be seen beyond it, but once Zakrius stepped through the only opening in the protective hedge, he was treated to an excellent view of the magical village. Zakrius’es impression the first time he’d come here was that he had stumbled into a giant’s garden. It was laid out in long rows of pumpkins, melons, squash, and other ghords he could not name and each one of them was a gnome’s house. A powerful, natural magic had made them all huge – nearly his height, and some were even taller. All of the houses were surrounded by their own miniature gardens and berry bushes, flowers and creeping vines grew everywhere, and some even had miniature fences made out of sticks. There was really nothing in the village that appeared crafted or manufactured – everything the gnomes had and used seemed to be somehow grown or gathered. 

The houses had simple holes for doors and windows, carved carefully into the melon or ghord where the individual lived. As he walked down one of the rows, Zakrius could see into them, and was reminded that there was no furniture in their interiors. Each house consisted of only benches or bunks carved into the meat of the fruit and covered with mats of grass and blankets. 

Pleasant little gnomes frolicked all throughout the village, talking, laughing, and playing with one another, smoking pipes or singing songs. Those that passed by him smiled, and waved, and called out friendly greetings. Zakrius smiled and greeted them back, feeling warm and welcome to be back among his old friends. He noticed that only a small handful seemed to be engaged in anything remotely resembling work. Most of these tended the gardens in front of their houses, a few were whittling blocks of wood, and one was working happily at a makeshift loom, weaving some kind of colorful materiel. He knew that these gnomes were only being productive because it entertained them, not because the work was really necessary.

Like on his first visit, Zakrius was awed by the simple beauty and magic of the gnome village. It was natural and lovely, and the people seemed to be living lives of peace and leisure. Their joy and love of life was evident everywhere they looked, and just being there among them made him feel relaxed and happy. 

From the two gnomes that he’d rescued from the troll, Zakrius had learned many surprising things about the jovial race. First of all, gnomes weren’t very magical in themselves. It was the way plants responded to them that was enchanted. At some point in ancient history, the race of pleasant little fellows had somehow endeared themselves to the plant kingdom, so in return, the latent magic in growing things happily answers the wishes of the gentle gnomes. The plants provided the gnomes with food, shelter, and just about everything else they’d ever need. 

Also, the gnomes had no leader. They simply had such a powerful spirit of cooperation, that no matter what type of situation they were in, be it building, planting or harvesting, they all worked together harmoniously. His friend Halum had told him the story of how there once was a gnome who thought it would be fun to be a king. The others in his village kindly indulged him, giving him a court and a crown and attendants. It very quickly became obvious that there wasn’t much to govern, nor were there any disputes to resolve, so the king became bored and resigned. His reign had lasted less than a week.

Another thing Zakrius had learned, and that came to his mind as he walked around looking for Torc or Halum, was that goblin raiders from time-to-time destroyed the garden village. Whenever it happened, the gnomes could regrow the whole thing in less than a week. He wondered if they were planning just such a venture now that their life-giving stream had been cut off.

As he turned a corner at the end of a row of pumpkin houses, he was nearly trampled by a group of one-foot tall gnomelings chasing a rolling tomato that was surprisingly bouncy and resilient. Behind them, was a familiar red-capped figure with a flowing yellow beard, chasing the children, encouraging them to kick the tomato harder.

“Torc!”

The gnome stopped short.

“It’s me, Zakrius.”

“I’ll be…” the tiny man bounced up to the human youth, “it is a great honor and pleasure to see you again so soon, sir.”

“Oh, now don’t start that ‘sir’ business again. And it’s been two summers since I was last here.”

“Ah, indeed, I’d forgotten how slow time seems to your race. Tell me, sir, would you happen to have brought any man-cake with you this time?”

Zakrius laughed. “I knew that’d be the first thing you asked. As a matter of fact I did. I’m afraid I only have one cake for you and Halum to share.”

“Very kind of you sir, I shall have to save Halum’s portion for him for whenever he returns. He’s been very busy wandering the wilderland and all.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, I was looking forward to seeing him again.”

“I’m sure he’ll be deeply sorry he wasn’t here to see you as well. What brings you to the garden anyway, sir?”

“Well, Halum, I’m on a journey. My mentor, Mathis has sent me on a very personal mission. He says there is nothing more he can teach me until I’ve decided on my motivation for using magic. This decision is necessary to guide all of my future studies towards that end, and it would be very difficult to go back and start over if I’ve found I’d been mistaken about my motivation. So you see, it is very important that I’m absolutely sure of what is in my heart before I return home.”

“And our garden village is in your heart, sir? That is indeed touching.”

Zakrius smiled. “Well, yes. But more than that, actually, is that I’m feeling like I want to use magic to help people, but I can’t just go and declare that without testing myself. There may be another reason, and I have to be sure that that’s not it.”

“I see, sir, you’ve come here to help us. Very noble of you, I must say.”

“Exactly, I need to see how it feels – if helping you is rewarding enough to me, personally, then I will know that it is my motivation. If not, I’ll have to keep searching.”

“Well then, what would you like to help us with? Would you perhaps like to come to my home and help me prepare a meal? I’d be ever so honored.”

Zakrius laughed. “I’d love to, Torc, although I’m not sure I’d be able to fit inside your house. Actually I was wondering more about your creek. What’s happened to the water?”

“Oh, it dried up.”

“Yes, I know. But why? There is some sort of mystical barrier keeping it from flowing down its bed. Do you know what’s causing this?”

“Of course, sir. It seems the river-guardians are angry with us.”

“River-guardians? I’ve never heard of them. How could they possibly be angry with gnomes? You’ve got to be the gentlest, most pleasant and peaceful race in the wilderland.”

“I’m not really sure, to tell the truth.”

“Has anybody gone to ask them?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Why not?”

“An excellent question, sir.”

Zakrius understood that the gnome’s personalities were so focused on the present, that probably none of them had ever considered traveling to meet the river-guardians in the future to correct something that happened in the past. They weren’t stupid, just joyous and carefree – and utterly incapable of worrying. 

“So… how is the garden surviving without water?”

“The magic of nature, I’d guess. It seems to favor us. I suppose that if the water doesn’t return soon, the garden may wilt and die.”

“What will you do then?”

“Grow another one, of course.”

“How? If you’re water supply is permanently cut off…”

“Oh, not here sir. Even magic won’t support the garden forever if there’s no water. We’ll have to go elsewhere. Many have expressed curiosity over the lands surrounding the River Rotragon.”

“But that’s well beyond the wilderland. It’d take you weeks to get there.”

“Indeed. I don’t think I’d enjoy that journey much.”

It was clear to Zakrius that he’d found his mission. “Well, Torc, I’d be happy to go and try to talk to these ‘river-guardians’ for you.”

“Oh, leaving so soon, sir? Farewell then, and thanks for the man-cake.”

“Wait, Torc, I don’t even know who they are or how to find them.”

“Of course, sir. If you’ll kindly follow me.”

The gnome turned and headed across the village which Zakrius thought was strange. Were the river-guardians here in the garden? He took a few quick steps and caught up to his tiny friend.

As it turned out, Torc was leading him outside of the village.

Then he led them up the dry creek-bed for most of the remainder of the day.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

They shared an evening meal near the nameless river where the mystical barrier cut off the flow of water to the gnome village. Torc was absolutely fascinated with the vertical edge of the river crossing the drying creek bed. He poked it with sticks, threw more rocks into it, and even stuck his face into the wall of water. The way his beard flapped in the current made Zakrius laugh, but nonetheless, it still took him quite a while to get the gnome to move on. It was later in the afternoon when Torc finally led him to place where he claimed one could summon the river-guardians. 

They broke through the underbrush and found themselves in an area where the treetops soared, their leafy canopy casting sun-dappled shadows over an area of mostly grass and wildflowers. Here the riverbanks were clear of brush, and they were able to stroll right up to a raised point in the crook of where the little river made a sharp bend. This mound seemed to be the center of a circular area that was almost totally clear of underbrush, and its magnificent, natural beauty stunned Zakrius. Torc sat down on the moss-covered knoll, and pointed into the water across from them. Zakrius could see that on the far side, the water rushing around the tight curve had cut deeply into the riverbed, so much so that it was very likely to be over his head.

“That’s it, sir. That’s where the river-guardians come from.”

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Yes sir, it is. I assume the Alorni maintain it.”

“Alorni?”

“Ah, that would be the proper name of the race of the river-guardians.”

“So how do we ‘summon’ them?”

“An excellent question. You are a clever young human, aren’t you sir? What you’ll need is the most fragrant blossom you can find, and the three most beautiful river rocks. They’ll need to be of a decent size though.”

“Why?”

“The river-guardian’s senses fill the entire river. The rocks have to make a big enough splash to get their attention.”

“I see. I’ll be right back.”

The rocks were easy. Finding a knee-deep section of water beyond the grassy area, Zakrius stepped in, and found the three smooth, palm-sized rocks in a cluster on the sandy bottom, as if waiting for someone to pick them up. The flower was a little more difficult. The prettier wildflowers weren’t necessarily the most fragrant ones, so it took the young man several minutes of testing and comparing many odors until he found the one he wanted. When he returned to the knoll, Torc continued his instructions.

“First, throw the three rocks into the center of the river, one at a time, at regular intervals, then drop the blossom, and let the current carry it away.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes sir. A river-guardian will sense the summons, and appear directly.”

Zakrius shrugged and tossed the first stone. It splashed into the water with a sort of a ‘glurp’ sound, and then the other two followed moments later. Next, the yellow, sweet-smelling blossom fluttered down into the river, and sailed away in the current like a gilded, spinning crown. Zakrius turned to ask Torc how long he thought it would take for the river-guardian to appear, but something began to happen immediately.

A jet of water sprayed up from the center of the river, then fell back down – yet not all the way. Some sort of column took shape before their very eyes, composed entirely of water. It looked like clear, gleaming ice, sculpted with fluting and a leafy capital, but Zakrius could see that although it was solidified, it was still merely water. A small, dark shape broke the surface of the water behind it, then flew up to the top of the column and hovered over it, eye level with Zakrius.

The apprentice was stunned. He had indeed seen this mysterious creature once before. It was small, less than a foot tall. It had the lower body of a fish and the upper body of man, like one of the mer-folk, but it also had brown bird’s wings coming out of its back. It’s skin was mottled green and brown, and it wore a necklace of polished river-rocks. His face was more amphibious then human, and in one hand, he held a slim twig of driftwood. He pointed it at Torc in such a way, that Zakrius wondered if it could be a wand.

“Why has this creature been brought into my presence?”

Zakrius was surprised, and didn’t know how to answer at first. When he’d met one of these beings before, it was kind and helpful, and used its powers to help him escape from danger – this one seemed outright angry. “Please milord. He is my guide. He has brought me here and instructed me in the manner in which we summoned you.”

“Regretfully, human, I cannot tolerate the company of gnomes at the moment. Either he moves out of the circle, or I shall be forced to return to the water.”

Zakrius looked down at his friend, unsure as what to do.

“It’s fine, sir. As I told you earlier, the river-guardians are unhappy with us for some reason. I’ll just go into the woods and see if I can’t find any berries.”

“Okay, Torc. That sounds good. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Once the red-capped gnome had left the clear area and disappeared into the wilderland underbrush, the mysterious being spoke once more to Zakrius. “Gnomes have been our friends for many years, but no more – the pain of their betrayal is still too raw.”

“Yes milord, that is why I am here. The gnomes seem to have no idea as to why you are angry with them. I’ve come to see if you’ll tell me, and perhaps I can help make things right.”

“I do not know you, and if fact, our race is rather distrustful of most humans. I must be sure that you are a person of integrity and character before I’ll speak of these things.”

Zakrius suddenly felt a little nervous. This creature’s elemental control over water was very powerful, and at that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder how deadly it was. Wanting to be as respectful as possible, Zakrius took a knee and bowed his head.

“My name is Zakrius Aurora, milord, I am the apprentice and adopted son of Mathis Aurora, the current Wizard of Krimsonspire and thane of Krimsonspire-fief. I have sought you out because the gnomes are my friends, and I’d like to know what they’ve done to make the river-guardians so angry.”

“So, you are an apprentice-magician. We have heard of the Wizard’s of Krimsonspire. Their reputation for decency and nobility has spread even here to the nameless river. If you are in line to become one of them, then it does seem likely that you are an honorable person. I will answer your question, but beware – I will sense it in you if there is darkness in your heart. If you hope to turn our misfortune into personal gain – I will know.”

“No, milord, I swear it. I have only come to help.”

“Rise, Zakrius Aurora, and I will tell you our sad tale.”

The young apprentice stood respectfully, then settled onto the moss of the knoll, facing the winged mer-creature hovering above the solidified water column. The creature had abnormally large eyes on its reptilian head, but despite their strangeness, Zakrius thought he could see a deep sadness reflected in their blackness.

Once he was ready, the river-guardian began. “The Alorni were placed in the rivers at the dawn of time by the creator, to protect the new life in them and to make the waters move. It is commonly understood by the world’s inhabitants today that the rivers flow naturally into the sea, but it was my people who created the current, with our gift of elemental control.  In this age, it continues by itself to do the work that we started, but we are still needed to protect its sanctity and preserve its magic. Our senses fill each drop of the river, from the springs and mountain trickles where it has its roots, to the great lake that it empties into far away. We each live for a thousand years, safeguarding our particular sections, and as you would expect, Alorni offspring are very rare. At this time, there is only one Alorni child in the entire nameless river – and she is extremely young, practically an infant. And now, Zakrius Aurora, here is the reason we have become angry with the garden gnomes: four days ago, while carousing in a strip of the river not far from here, our only child was plucked from the water, and has not been returned since. Thanks to our attuned sense, we know for certain – it was a gnomish hand.”

Zakrius felt something within him sicken and shrivel. Could one of the friendly, cheerful little fellows have actually kidnapped the only child of the benevolent river-guardians? “That is indeed grave news, milord.”

“We expected some sort of explanation or excuse, or even an acknowledgement that the child had been taken, but there was no contact whatsoever. We cut off the flow of water to their village, but still, they did not come to speak with us. It is most disappointing and in truth, has become a complete outrage.”

“Perhaps it was a gnome from some other village, the garden gnomes do not seem to be aware that anything like this has taken place.”

“There are no other gnome villages in the wilderland. They may wander, but their garden sanctuary is the home to which each of them always returns. If one of them does not confess, or if our child is not returned to the river, then we shall be forced into war and we will have to cut off their water supplies. In this way, they will have no choice but to move far away from us.”

“Please, they are a good and honest people. I can’t believe one of them would do that.”

“Nonetheless, one of them has. And gnomes have no secrets – what one of them knows, they all know. We can only assume their silence proves their guilt.”

“I’ll talk to them, milord. I’ll speak to each of them individually if I have to. If any one of them knows anything about this at all, I’ll discover it and come back and tell you. But please, have mercy on them. Do not let their garden die.”

“In truth, Zakrius Aurora, you’re help would be appreciated. Yet I fear there is nothing you can do. Since they have not yet approached us or returned the child, it is clear that whoever has done this does not intend to. We will continue to do what we must.”

“Then I will find her. Wherever she is, I will find her and return her.”

“You would have our deepest gratitude if you did. We cannot search for her ourselves because although we can fly, our powers do not extend far beyond the banks of the river. There is something I can offer you in return, but I do not know what help it will be.”

The river-guardian pointed his wand-like twig at the water beneath him and waved it in a circular motion. Almost instantly, a line of small water-smoothed pebbles spiraled out of the water and joined themselves together in the shape of a circle. The Alorni waved his wand towards Zakrius, and the ring of stones hovered over to him. Zakrius took hold of the cool, wet string of pebbles, and they flopped over his hands. Although they still clung magically to one another, the enchanted ring was flexible, like rope.

“We have only ever created a small number of these for our land-dwelling friends. It is called a ‘breathstone necklace’. Place it around your neck, and whenever you are underneath the surface of any body of water, a globe of continually fresh air will surround your head. As I said before, I do not know if it will help you or not – if she were anywhere in the river we would instantly know it, but this is a token of our gratitude, and I hope it serves you well, regardless of the outcome of this tragic situation.”

With excited and trembling hands, Zakrius placed the string of brown and black pebbles around his neck. “Thank-you, milord. This is a great honor. I will do everything in my power to get your child back, I swear it.”

“Farewall, Zakrius Aurora. I hope for all our sakes that you are successful.” With that, the Alorni dove into the middle of his column, which instantly melted, and crashed back into the water with a splash of spray, taking the noble creature with it.

Zakrius felt the cool string of smooth pebbles. The thrill he was experiencing in that moment was exactly the thing that he feared might be his true motivation for studying magic. He dearly loved enchanted relics, he already possessed several, and their acquisition was the greatest feeling he’d so far experienced during his short career as a wizard’s apprentice.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

“Please, I need all of you to speak in turn so that I might hear your answers. Now once more, were any of you even near the nameless river four days ago?”

Like before, a dozen helpful voices began answering Zakrius’es question, each of them politely telling a different story as though he were the only one the youth was listening to. It had been a frustrating morning for the apprentice. The entire village was gathered in the center of the village where there was a large grassy area, free of giant vegetable houses. Rocks of all sizes littered the grass, and the tiny men lounged about on them, sharing their usual breakfast of the various fruits and vegetables that grew in abundance around the village. Zakrius was glad to eat with them, and to replenish his supply of food, but he was finding it extremely difficult to learn anything useful from the carefree little people.

When he first began questioning them, it had been immediately clear that none of them had kidnapped the Alorni child, or even knew that she had disappeared. When Zakrius asked if any of those who were currently wandering the wilderland might have done it, he was forced to endure countless stories of different gnome’s journeys, and how stalwart and honorable each of them was. He did his best to listen carefully to each one, but nothing he had heard had been especially helpful. In between off-topic stories and the complete life-history of each of the absent gnomes, he learned that of those who were in the area that day, none of them had seen or heard or experienced anything out of the ordinary. When he asked if their might be gnomes from other villages nearby, they actually laughed, and repeated what the river-guardian had told him. There was no other gnome village in the wilderland, and every single one of them made their permanent home there.

Growing increasingly frustrated. Zakrius tried to figure out what could have happened to the child. He asked if any one of them, in a situation where they’d spotted a rare Alorni child, would have plucked her from the water out of curiosity, but the answer was a firm ‘absolutely not, sir’. They simply held too much reverence for the river-guardians to try to handle them physically. Knowing first hand how respectful the little fellows were, Zakrius believed them. He asked if one of the children might have done it, but they did not allow their children outside of the protective hedge, and knew for certain that none had gone astray that day – especially not for six hours, which is how long it would have taken to travel to the river and back.

Another thought that occurred to him was that perhaps it had been one of the cercopes, otherwise known as ‘dark-gnomes’. He dismissed this notion quickly, cercopes were very different from garden gnomes and the river-guardians could surely distinguish between them. This got him thinking along other lines however. The wilderland was wild and exotic, and hid many strange creatures. Perhaps there were others that could either be mistaken for gnomes, or that somehow had the ability to make it appear as though a gnome had committed the kidnapping. If that were the case, there was nothing more he could do in the garden village. All he could do was to go and search the forest around the nameless river for the child and her abductor.

He attempted to share his suspicion with a few of the more serious-minded gnomes. None of them were able to think of a creature that had the ability to do what he was suspecting, but that didn’t discourage Zakrius. He was certain that the gnomes were not guilty, and that meant that something else, somewhere out in the wilderland was.

He prepared to leave the garden right after their morning meal. As he was leaving through the opening in the massive hedge, an elderly female gnome called out to him, “Farewell, young friend. And wear the green robes next time – they look nicer in the forest.”

He shook his head as he headed down the drying creek bed once more. Sometimes gnomes said the queerest, most unexpected things. The green robes made him think about the goblin he’d encountered the previous morning, and Zakrius resolved to question him if their paths crossed again.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

Much later in the afternoon, Zakrius found himself further upriver than he’d ever been before. He’d spent the day searching a large area on both sides of the river, and had run across absolutely nothing of interest. Although it had him feeling discouraged, it had also given him lots of time to think.

The reason he’d come to the wilderland was to discover his true motivation for using magic, and so far, he’d had a few clues as to what that might be.

He was absolutely delighted to have the enchanted breathstone necklace, but at the same time, these feelings worried him. If one were to approach him and ask him why he wanted to practice wizardry, he’d reply without hesitation that he wanted to use his magic for good, to serve justice and help others. The problem with that answer was that there was a secret part of him, hidden beneath the surface, that was eager to gain power. This face revealed itself most clearly whenever he acquired a new enchanted relic. He’d so far collected quite an arsenal of such items: he had his shildring, a hearthcharm that would instantly take him back to his master’s tower if he found himself in too much danger, a web-wand that could be used once each day, a camo-cloak that would disguise him with illusion no matter what environment he found himself in, an enchanted compass that always pointed towards his destination, a bag of seeds from the gnomes that would quickly grow a giant pumpkin for him to take shelter in, and a pair of carved, wooden spectacles called ‘eagle eyes’, that let him send his vision soaring through the sky as if he were an eagle, he’d gotten much use out of these during his long search this day. And now he had the breathstone necklace. 

Like with every previous acquisition, he got a tingling, excited feeling, and had already began dreaming of the thrill when he used the power in his new item. He also felt this way each time he learned a new spell, and gained strength in his older ones. In his heart, he felt certain that he wanted to help others, but he simply couldn’t be sure that he didn’t desire power more. He had to be absolutely certain which of the two was his true motivation, or there would be no point in studying any more magic.

He’d been seeking only to help the gnomes and the Alorni when he’d vowed to find the missing child. He was only given the necklace afterwards, as an expression of the river-guardian’s appreciation. At the moment, he felt like saving the village and the child was more important, but was a part of him secretly hoping to acquire more enchanted items? It was just so difficult to be sure.

Zakrius continued traveling upriver as he thought, trying hard to remain focused on his search. At some point, he became distracted, and without realizing it, found himself stumbling upon a goblin trying to build a fire. The two of them were equally surprised by one another’s presence, and simply stared at one another for a while. Zakrius was seconds away from activating his shildring, when he noticed that one of the creature’s ears was broken and twisted downward.

He relaxed a little, and forgave himself for not recognizing his strange aquaintance. He was no longer wearing green robes, opting instead for the more traditional garb of a goblin raider – hide armor and an overabundance of rusting weapons dangling from his body. Although this explained why it took a moment for Zakrius to realize who it was, there was still no doubt that it was the same goblin, his face, eyes, broken-ear, and wisps of gray hair on an otherwise bald, dark-skinned were all identical.

Zakrius nodded nervously. “Forgive me, I… I didn’t recognize you.”

The goblin simply stared weirdly at him.

“Actually, you know, I’ve been…um, actually looking for you.”

The goblin slowly stood up from the fire. Unexpectedly, two other goblins stepped out of the woods to his either side, carrying armloads of firewood. When they saw Zakrius, they dropped their loads and put their hands on their weapons.

Zakrius was beginning to get scared. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had friends with you. Please forgive me.”

The three goblins closed ranks and took a few menacing steps closer.

“So… so… um, how’s your house coming? The one under the waterfall I mean. Did you ever find something to dig with?”

One of the goblins on the end made a hissing, laughing noise. “He’sssss obvioussssssly deranged.”

“I want that ssssssword.” Said the one on the other end.

“I want that cloak.” Said the one with the broken ear.

Suddenly all three of them whipped bladed weapons out of their belts. Zakrius was facing a scimitar, a battle-axe, and a mace all alone. Several things rushed through his head at that point. The first was that he still wore his hearth-charm. At any point, all he had to do was grab it, and utter a single mystical phrase, and he would be back in his master’s study, in Krimsonspire-fief – however it would take four days to get back, and the by that time, both the garden village and the Alorni child could be dead. The second thing was that he had to resist the urge to summon his shildring for the moment. They were still fifteen feet away, and this would very likely be his only chance to cast.

He knew only one offensive spell: Andric’s Arrow. He raised his hands and flew through the well-practiced motions as he spoke in the language of the mystic arts. 

“Grigala missell offesh-yarn, shayn-dala qin-SWIN!”

Zakrius quickly performed the trigger gesture which was to mime the firing of a bow. Where the arrow would be, a jagged green sliver of magical energy appeared and zipped towards the goblin on the end. The magical projectile struck the creature between his chest and shoulder, and with a burst of green light and smoke, he was thrown backwards and onto the ground. The goblins froze for a moment, surprised to find that they faced a young wizard, and Zakrius took the opportunity to employ his next trick. He popped open the small sheath on his belt and whipped out his web-wand, pointing it the broken-eared goblin in the center.

“Arak-NARA!”

A gray blur streaked from the tip of the slender piece of carved wood. When it was halfway to the goblin, it suddenly expanded and slapped over its entire body. Instantaneously he was trapped inside what looked like a very tight bag of grayish-black webbing. It pinned his arms to his sides, his legs snapped together, and he slowly toppled. The third goblin watched him fall, and Zakrius wondered if he had time to cast another arrow. Suddenly it raised its scimitar with a roar, and charged the last few steps to Zakrius.

“RA-MATHE!”

His shildring flared to life, blocking the falling scimitar. Zakrius shoved it towards the goblin, pushing him back and giving himself enough room to draw his quillon dagger. Until he was a full-fledged sorcerer, the sword would be necessary to defend himself in situations like these. Accepting that reality, Zakrius had actually taken some lessons over the last two years, and was now very glad that he had. Seeing his enemy holding the scimitar high near his right shoulder, Zakrius thrust at his lower left flank. The goblin deflected the blow with a vicious downward swing, and Zakrius responded by using his sword’s momentum to whirl it around and down in a wicked swing of his own.

The goblin dodged, and Zakrius thrust once more. After another block, the boy kept his adversary on the defensive and off balance by a continual barrage of attacks. He could see that the creature was starting to lose its resolve. Its eyes darted towards its companions as if hoping they would come to his aide, then the darted towards the woods as if planning a hasty retreat. Seeing that there was no other option, the goblin steeled himself, and began to fight more aggressively. 

Zakrius met a few blows with his quillon dagger as the more seasoned warrior gained steam. Soon the shildring became his main tool, blocking and shoving back against the dark-skinned goblin. Being no lighter than the ring on his finger, it was more of an advantage than the customary, bulky, heavy shield. With more scimitar blows landing harder and faster, the young apprentice realized that his initial good luck would run out. He would not win this contest by matching blades. Fortunately he had other skills – he just needed to buy himself some time.

With the next scimitar attack, the youth stepped further into his opponents fighting space than was necessary. He used his shield to deflect the falling blade, then continued pushing it forwards into the goblin’s body. The creature stumbled backwards unsurely, but brought his sword around for another blow. Zakrius raised his shield right up against the goblin’s sword-arm, not giving him room to strike, then grabbed the shoulder pad of his hide armor with the hand holding the quillon dagger. He jerked the lighter creature aside, and as he stumbled, pushed him backwards with both his sword and shield. He would need to do what he had to do next very quickly. 

The goblin hit the ground in stages, tripping himself as he tried to remain on his feet with his scimitar in a defensive position. Instead of another sword blow, like the creature expected, Zakrius had his quillon dagger sheathed and his shildring dismissed before its haunches hit the dirt.

“Grigala missell offesh-yarn, shayn-dala qin-SWIN!”

The goblin knew he was casting again, and tried to leap back to his feet and interrupt the spell. Zakrius finished first, once more miming the firing of a bow, and sending the jagged green energy arrow into the chest of the rising goblin.

With that, the fight was over.

He looked at his three scattered adversaries, and knew he couldn’t stay. The webbing around the strange broken-eared goblin wouldn’t dissolve for several hours, but the two that were struck by Andric’s Arrow would rise again in minutes. They would be in pain, and have a small burn each, but they would certainly be ready to fight again. Before he made his escape, Zakrius surveyed the goblin’s camp.

It had a small firepit with the carcass of some animal lying near it, ready to be put on the spit they’d constructed. In a clear space beside the cooking fire, was a simple hide shelter, propped up with sticks and twine. Three rolls of bedding had been placed under it, ready to be spread out when they laid down for the night. There were also a few packs of gear on the ground, and although Zakrius had no time to rummage through them, they seemed to be pretty standard equipment for a wandering group of goblin raiders.

His overall impression of the camp was that it was completely ordinary and expected. There was nothing there that connected the broken-eared goblin to the one he’d met the previous morning. Despite the incredible resemblance, he suspected that they were not the same creature. He took off into the forest once more, following the bank upriver, and considering what this new knowledge could mean.

If what he’d met was some kind of goblin, then perhaps it could also impersonate a gnome. He needed to find its waterfall.

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

He could hear it before he could see it.

The trees and underbrush were especially thick, and the river was wider, shallower and much more rocky. Breaking out between a pair of especially thorny bushes, Zakrius saw what he was looking for. The river tumbled down a hill, then spilled out over a fifteen foot cliff, creating a misty cascade that captured the early evening sunlight in a rainbow. He was still fifty feet away when he noticed the cage.

It was a makeshift birdcage, swinging from a branch hanging out over the water. He could make out a small, slumped over shape in it, and his step quickened. Standing under the tree limb, Zakrius realized that it was just out of his reach. He returned to the bank, and found a long, forked stick, then brought it to the bird cage and used it to unhook it from the limb. As he was lowering it towards himself, he was startled by a familiar voice.

“Hey, what are you doing? That’s mine!”

Zakrius turned, expecting to see a broken-eared goblin in dark green robes, but instead, found a perfect mirror image of himself. The shock tingled through his chest, then over his shoulders and down his spine. He froze, not having the slightest idea as to how he should react. The second Zakrius was stepping out along a rocky shelf from behind the waterfall, wearing dark green robes that were damp from the mist. He approached quickly, seeming alarmed, but not aggressive.

“I need that to make my house. You should put it back in the tree.”

The real Zakrius was still dumbfounded. He simply held the cage and stared at his exact double. He walked up, giving him the same queer expression that he’d received from the broken-eared goblin the previous morning. “Your human ears can hear me. Give me the cage.”

Not knowing what else to do, Zakrius passed the cage of lashed sticks to him. The duplicate tucked it under his arm, and turned his head to stare at the apprentice with his other eye. “Did you bring any man-cake this time?”

“Uh… no, it’s all gone I’m afraid.”

“Did you bring a digging tool?”

“No, no digging tool either.”

“I am making no progress on my house. The water creature is too weak to carve with the river.”

“Carve with the river? What do you mean by that?”

“I brought it here to use its power over the waterfall to dig into the rock. It isn’t working.”

“Um, well, that might be because it takes years for water to erode through rock.”

“I did not know that.”

“Did you know that this creature has a family that is looking for her. They are very interested in getting her back.”

“A family? With a mother and father?”

“I… I suppose, something like that.”

“You have no mother and father. Do they not want you back?”

Zakrius felt another chill. “My parents died when I was a little boy. How did you know that?”

“I learned it when I acquired your form.”

“What are you?”

“I do not know. Do you?”

“No. But you appear to be some kind of changeling. Where did you come from?”

“I do not know. I became in the wilderland, I acquired some of its inhabitants, like the slitherer, the flyer, and the night-time tree climber, then I acquired a gnome and learned very much about the more complex inhabitants. Your form has been the most enlightening.”

“Are you saying that each time you ‘acquire’ a form, you learn something about it?”

“Many things. But not all. It is rather frustrating.”

“And the first thing you remember is being some sort of animal?”

“I became animals for a lot of time. I don’t know how long. This human form is the first one I’ve acquired that had a concept of time.”

“What is your original form?”

“I do not know. I do not seem to have one.”

Zakrius found his nervousness giving over to curiosity. Although this creature turned out to be the kidnapper, it still seemed harmless. “You honestly don’t know what your original form is?”

“No. I was animals, then I was a gnome, then the Alorni, then I acquired the sleeping goblin, then you. I have known no other form.”

“Amazing…” The creature was an absolute mystery. Zakrius’es mind was filled with a jumble of questions which he couldn’t answer, but he knew someone who might – his master and adopted father, Mathis, the Wizard of Krimsonspire. First, though, there was the matter of a vow that needed to be fulfilled. “This creature you’ve captured, do you understand that her family wants her back very badly?”

“Yes. But I want to keep her very badly.”

Zakrius got the impression that the changeling understood the meaning of concepts like ‘family’, but had no experience with them. He was naïve and immature, like a small child, and perhaps, couldn’t relate to the pain of losing someone. “Why is it that you want to keep her so badly?”

“To help finish my waterfall home.”

“But what of her wishes? Or her family’s? Don’t you suppose that they’d all like to be back together again?”

“Of course, but that would not help me dig. I must keep her.”

The boy thought for a moment. This creature seemed to only care about building his house. He focused on it with bizarre intensity and wouldn’t consider that anything else might be important. If only there was a way to get him to forget about it. Zakrius would fight him for the Alorni child, if he had to, but it would be unfortunate. Something occurred to him then – a way that he might accomplish several goals at the same time. “May I suggest something to you?”

“It would be the first time anyone has. I am not obligated to follow your suggestion?”

“Um, no.”

“Then you may suggest something to me.”

“I realize that you enjoy the wilderland, it is very wild and beautiful. But have you ever seen a human town?”

“I can picture some of it from the thoughts I acquired from you.”

“Do you see the great crenellated walls of the fief? Or the colorful, busy marketplace? Perhaps you can see the soaring, red, wizard’s tower that gave Krimsonspire its name?”

“I see… fragments… shadows…”

“Would you like to see more?”

“Yes. I would.”

“Come with me to Krimsonspire-fief then. My master may be able to help you learn about yourself, and there will be many things to see, and many creatures to acquire. Perhaps you may even want to live there.”

“No. I have a home. It is here. Under this waterfall.”

“Don’t you wish to learn more about the world? Don’t you wish to see more? And acquire more?”

“Yes. But my home…”

“It will still be here if you decided not to stay.”

“But who will dig?”

Zakrius could not figure out why the changeling was so fixated on the waterfall. He seemed to be persuading him, but for that one little matter of leaving his home. “Why is this waterfall home so important to you? You seem almost frightened of leaving.”

“I do not know what frightened means, but I will not leave the waterfall. It is the only thing I have. It is the only thing that belongs to me.”

“Ah… what if I were to give you a gift. Something you could carry with you, that would belong to only you. Would you come with me then?”

The changeling gave him another queer look. “It depends on what the something is.”

Zakrius thought fast. The changeling probably wouldn’t want his extra cloak or any of the mundane items he had in his satchel. He’d shown an interest in the shildring, but that was absolutely out of the question. It was traditional for a mentor to give their apprentice a shildring – it was almost a sign of his station, therefore, he’d have to find something else he could part with. Then he thought of it.

He spoke before he’d thought it completely through.

“Would you like this enchanted necklace?”

The eyes of the Zakrius copy went wide as they beheld the string of dark, glassy river-pebbles. The apprentice took the necklace off and handed it to the changeling for closer inspection. “What is its enchantment?”

“Whenever you’re underwater, it keeps a globe of fresh air around your head, so that you can breathe.”

“It is pretty.”

“It was made by the river-guardian. Its yours, if you would return the child and come to Krimsonspire-fief with me.”

“I would keep this, but lose my home forever?”

“Not forever. If you don’t like living in the human town, you can come back to your waterfall.”

“And I would keep this gift?”

“And I will send others with you, like perhaps a shovel.”

“A what?”

“A digging tool.”

The changeling stared at the breathstone necklace for a long time. Then, finally, he passed the birdcage back to Zakrius and put the necklace around his own neck. He smiled. “Let us go then.”

Zakrius accepted the cage, wondering about the curious absence of emotion he felt at losing the magical relic. “We will go. But first, I have a vow to keep. We have to return the river child.”

 

 

*                      *                      *

 

 

It was dark when Zakrius and the changeling approached the grassy knoll overlooking the deep bend in the river. In one hand, the apprentice held the small, listless, Alorni child, cradled against his chest. In his other hand, he held aloft an enchanted tongue of flame, created by one of the first spells he’d ever learned. He came up beside his mirror image, and peered with him into the dark water. Somewhere deep down in the river, much deeper then he’d expected it to be, was a slight phosphorescent glow.

Zakrius’es plan was to send the changeling down to the river guardians rather than waiting to summon them. It would take too long to find the stones and blossom in the dark, and the Alorni child didn’t seem well at all.

The changeling fingered his new enchanted necklace. “So I swim into the river, and this necklace will let me breathe?”

“That’s right.” Said Zakrius, actually feeling happy for the creature.

“Is there a magical command or incantation?”

“No. Not that the river-guardian told me.”

“Then let us begin.”

Zakrius reached out with the hand holding the small Alorni child. It seemed to be sleeping, or sick, and felt overly dry – not like a fish at all. “Take her and swim towards the light. I’m sure they’ll sense her presence as soon as she touches the water, and they’ll come to meet you.”

“You are not coming?”

Zakrius shrugged. “I’m sorry. I can’t breathe underwater. But you’ve got the breathstone necklace, you can take her back, and I’ll wait here for you.”

The changeling looked doubtfully at the string of stones in his fingers. He thought for a moment, then took them off and passed them to Zakrius. “I will loan them to you and take the form of a swimmer.”

Zakrius was pleasantly surprised. He had, in fact, been greatly anticipating swimming in the depths like a merman. He accepted the breathstone necklace, and immediately placed it around his neck. “The moment we return to the surface, I’ll give these back to you.”

Side-by-side, the two Zakrius’es inched themselves down the little knoll and over the bank of the river. It was already waist-deep, and their feet told them that it got much deeper rapidly. Still holding the child and his torch-tongue, the real apprentice held his breath out of instinct, and dove into the water. He felt his shoulders, chest, back, and the rest of his body slip underwater, but his face, head, and hair stayed totally dry, as if they hadn’t gone under. He had to check above him to be sure that he was indeed underwater. In the thin light of his submerged torch, he could see the surface of the river wavering above him, even as the current grabbed hold of him and started to pull him downriver. A long dark fish suddenly swam right in front of him and froze. There was no mistaking the strange stare in its eyes – it was the changeling.  Seeing that he’d been recognized, the fish swam downward, towards the faint glow in the depths.

Zakrius turned to follow, swimming awkwardly with just his feet and leg – his hands still held the enchanted ball of light and cradled the river child. He was grateful that he didn’t have the added complication of trying to hold his breath while struggling against the current. Within his globe of enchanted air, Zakrius was free to breathe as hard and as fast as he needed to in order to follow the fish. Seeing the source of the glow for the first time, Zakrius forgot all about the strain of his swim.

In the darkness, he could see that the rocky bottom sloped unnaturally down towards some sort of circular opening underneath the bank at the bend of the river. It was some sort of tunnel leading down and under the river-bank, and beyond it, in an underwater cavern beneath the grassy wilderland clearing, was a tiny, glowing, town. The buildings were shaped somewhat like human towers and fortresses, but on a much smaller scale, with entrances and windows scattered at random. They seemed to be carved out of sandstone, and their glow was coming from the mosaic of silver and green tiles that covered them. 

Before Zakrius could get close enough to see what the tiles were composed of, and why they glowed, a pair of the Alorni swam up to them. He briefly noticed that underwater, the river-guardians used their wings as efficient fins, even pumping a little with them, as though flying through the river. Although his torch-tongue cast very little light underwater, he could easily see that one of them was the river guardian he’d spoken with the previous evening.

“Zakrius Aurora, you have brought her back to us.”

The voice carried with amazing clarity through the water, as though the river-guardians had an entirely different speaking mechanism for underwater conversations. Zakrius smiled and nodded, then held out his hand and opened it. The child seemed slightly roused by the water, and was actually able to swim a little ways toward the second Alorni. This river-guardian zipped towards the child, and embraced it, wrapping its wings protectively around the both of them. Without any further hesitation, the Alorni swam away towards the town with his precious cargo, leaving his kinsman with Zakrius and the strange fish.

The river-guardian seemed very pleased. “In all honesty, human, I had little hope that you would bring us back our missing daughter, but you have kept your vow, and proven yourself a faithful friend to the Alorni. Where did you find her?”

Zakrius found that he could speak normally within his enchanted globe of air, and that the river-guardian had no trouble understanding his voice through the water. He quickly summed up the events of the previous two days, ending with his encounter with the goblin raiders. Only then did he indicate the long, dark fish, hovering beside him. “When I found the waterfall, I immediately found the child inside a cage hanging from a tree limb over the river. That is when this creature appeared to me. It seems he is some sort of changeling. He doesn’t know anything about himself, other than that he can acquire the shape of any creature he touches. When I met him at the waterfall, he was wearing my own form. After talking to him, I discovered that he had taken the child to get her to use her elemental power over the waterfall to carve himself a home in the rock behind it. He didn’t understand that he was hurting anybody, he just wanted his own home very badly. He is very childlike, and has no experience with relationships between beings of any kind – I believe it was all just a case of innocent ignorance. I plan to take him with me to Krimsonspire where he can meet my master, and hopefully learn more about himself.”

“I suppose that is a wise course of action. Beyond the dry-sickness caused from being out of the river, the child didn’t seem to be harmed. Perhaps she has even learned a lesson about wandering too far from our home unaccompanied. We can forgive the creature. But you must swear to teach him the ways of good, and to shun evil. A being such as this could cause great harm without guidance, Zakrius Aurora.”

“I understand.”

“If he can prove that there is good in his heart, we will allow him to return to the nameless river, and perhaps help him build the house you’ve spoken of.”

“Very gracious of you, milord.”

The river-guardian was silent for a moment, and simply stared at Zakrius. After many moments, he spoke once more. “Even now, water flows down the tributary that leads to the gnome village. I would invite you to tour our home, but with the child having just returned, I fear that now is not a good time. It will take all of the elders to make her well by morning.”

“I understand.”

“But we would like you to return to us someday, Zakrius Aurora, you are now a hero to my people. You are always welcome here. And if you find Alorni in any other river, the breathstone necklace will identify you as our friend. Do not hesitate to ask for our help in the future.”

“Thank-you, milord.”

“Farewell, Wizard of Krimsonspire.”

 

 

 

 

 

Zakrius stepped out of the river beside an exact copy of himself wearing dark green robes. They climbed the grassy knoll, dripping on the dark grass. With a wistful smile, the apprentice removed his necklace and passed it to the changeling. Giving it away was a trifle compared to the joy he felt at the good he’d done this day. He’d saved the life of a treasured child, he’d saved the garden home of all the gnomes who dwelt in the wilderland, and he’d established a friendship with a powerful, but confused being. A flutter of contentment spread across his chest, and in his heart, he knew that he was having a life-changing realization – a wonderful epiphany. In that moment, he knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that there was simply no better reason for wanting to use magic. Enchanted relics were fascinating and thrilling, but they were nothing when compared to the rewards of restoring hope, and joy, and peace. His journey had reached its end. He could now return to Krimsonspire-fief and tell his master exactly why he wanted to use magic.

Zakrius would dedicate the rest of his life to helping others, and advancing the cause of good.