The Haunted Wizard - Wiz in Rhym-6 by Christopher Stasheff
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy fiction, Fiction - Fantasy, Fantasy, Fantasy Fiction; American, Fantasy - General, Fantasy - Series, Wizards, American Science Fiction And Fantasy
Ads: Link
enough to speak.
Footsteps came near, and the enemy sorcerer's voice said, "I know you are alive and whole in there, for you spoke a spell that told anything falling not to strike your body. Listen well, Lord Wizard. I know who you are, but you do not know me. You will, though, be sure of that—for King Drustan will declare war on Merovence now, in revenge for the death of his son. He has wanted to battle Alisande for some time, for he seeks to rule both Bretanglia and Merovence. Now he has an excuse, and will defy you to find a way to keep him from it." There was a sound of gloating in his tone as he went on. "Try to stop this war, and you will find yourself fighting me at every turn. Let the war run, and you shall meet me on the battlefield. In either case, we shall meet again, and fight. I cannot kill you now because you have cobbled up some sort of spell to defend yourself, but I shall be ready to counter it when we meet again." Matt caught his breath and shouted,
"With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of chance below…"
"Aroint thee!" the enemy sorcerer cried, and chanted a couplet in his flowing language. A soft explosion sounded, and Matt ended his verse with a curse, knowing his enemy had escaped and thereby won the fight.
Matt resolved the man wouldn't win the war. He tried crawling forward, and beams bounced off the unseen bubble that protected him. At the edge of the pile Matt shoved himself to his feet, and boards fell around him. He stepped out into the moonlight, gratefully drawing a breath of clean air and looking about him.
He saw Sergeant Brock lying facedown in the dirt, and ten feet across from him, Sir Orizhan, on his back and unconscious with his sword by his hand.
Matt stared in alarm, then ran to the sergeant first, to flip him over and make sure he had clear breathing. He did, so Matt checked for a pulse, found it, then went over to Sir Orizhan, still concerned—but as he came close, the knight sat up suddenly, shaking his head. "What… where…" He looked about, then shoved himself up, catching his sword as he looked about wild-eyed. "Where did he go?"
"Disappeared," Matt said. "He's a wizard."
"I saw," Sir Orizhan told him. "He struck me down with a chant and a wave of his hand. Why did you not call us to attack him sooner, Lord Wizard?"
"I thought I could handle him by myself," Matt answered, and the words were gall on his tongue. "He turned out to be a better sorcerer than I thought."
"A sorcerer?" Sir Orizhan frowned. "How can you be sure that he uses his powers for evil?"
"Just a feeling," Matt said, "but when you've held magic duels with enough sorcerers, you begin to recognize that feeling. Besides, he helped murder a man, maybe even did it himself, and is trying to start a Page 29
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
war." He started toward Sergeant Brock. "Come on, let's see if we can get this soldier on his feet again. We have to go back to the castle and tell the king—" He broke off, gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say,"—tell the king I lost, and the murderer got away."
"He will not like that." Sir Orizhan joined him, scooping an arm under Brock's shoulders and pulling him up.
"No, he won't." Matt shuddered at the thought of facing the king. "He's going to like it even less when I tell him the man was Bretanglian."
"He will not believe you," Sir Orizhan said flatly.
"No, he won't," Matt agreed, "but you heard his accent— didn't you?"
"I heard most of what passed between you, yes."
Matt started patting Sergeant Brock's cheeks. "Where would you say the man came from?"
"Bretanglia—but I have seldom heard so strong an accent." Matt paused. "You mean he might have been laying it on too thick because he wanted me to think he was Bretanglian when he wasn't?"
"That, or making sure you could not mistake him."
"Makes sense, if he's trying to start a war," Matt
Footsteps came near, and the enemy sorcerer's voice said, "I know you are alive and whole in there, for you spoke a spell that told anything falling not to strike your body. Listen well, Lord Wizard. I know who you are, but you do not know me. You will, though, be sure of that—for King Drustan will declare war on Merovence now, in revenge for the death of his son. He has wanted to battle Alisande for some time, for he seeks to rule both Bretanglia and Merovence. Now he has an excuse, and will defy you to find a way to keep him from it." There was a sound of gloating in his tone as he went on. "Try to stop this war, and you will find yourself fighting me at every turn. Let the war run, and you shall meet me on the battlefield. In either case, we shall meet again, and fight. I cannot kill you now because you have cobbled up some sort of spell to defend yourself, but I shall be ready to counter it when we meet again." Matt caught his breath and shouted,
"With downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of chance below…"
"Aroint thee!" the enemy sorcerer cried, and chanted a couplet in his flowing language. A soft explosion sounded, and Matt ended his verse with a curse, knowing his enemy had escaped and thereby won the fight.
Matt resolved the man wouldn't win the war. He tried crawling forward, and beams bounced off the unseen bubble that protected him. At the edge of the pile Matt shoved himself to his feet, and boards fell around him. He stepped out into the moonlight, gratefully drawing a breath of clean air and looking about him.
He saw Sergeant Brock lying facedown in the dirt, and ten feet across from him, Sir Orizhan, on his back and unconscious with his sword by his hand.
Matt stared in alarm, then ran to the sergeant first, to flip him over and make sure he had clear breathing. He did, so Matt checked for a pulse, found it, then went over to Sir Orizhan, still concerned—but as he came close, the knight sat up suddenly, shaking his head. "What… where…" He looked about, then shoved himself up, catching his sword as he looked about wild-eyed. "Where did he go?"
"Disappeared," Matt said. "He's a wizard."
"I saw," Sir Orizhan told him. "He struck me down with a chant and a wave of his hand. Why did you not call us to attack him sooner, Lord Wizard?"
"I thought I could handle him by myself," Matt answered, and the words were gall on his tongue. "He turned out to be a better sorcerer than I thought."
"A sorcerer?" Sir Orizhan frowned. "How can you be sure that he uses his powers for evil?"
"Just a feeling," Matt said, "but when you've held magic duels with enough sorcerers, you begin to recognize that feeling. Besides, he helped murder a man, maybe even did it himself, and is trying to start a Page 29
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
war." He started toward Sergeant Brock. "Come on, let's see if we can get this soldier on his feet again. We have to go back to the castle and tell the king—" He broke off, gritted his teeth, then forced himself to say,"—tell the king I lost, and the murderer got away."
"He will not like that." Sir Orizhan joined him, scooping an arm under Brock's shoulders and pulling him up.
"No, he won't." Matt shuddered at the thought of facing the king. "He's going to like it even less when I tell him the man was Bretanglian."
"He will not believe you," Sir Orizhan said flatly.
"No, he won't," Matt agreed, "but you heard his accent— didn't you?"
"I heard most of what passed between you, yes."
Matt started patting Sergeant Brock's cheeks. "Where would you say the man came from?"
"Bretanglia—but I have seldom heard so strong an accent." Matt paused. "You mean he might have been laying it on too thick because he wanted me to think he was Bretanglian when he wasn't?"
"That, or making sure you could not mistake him."
"Makes sense, if he's trying to start a war," Matt
Similar Books
