Read Online A Bad Spell in Yurt - Wizard of Yurt - 1 by C. Dale Brittain - Free Book Online
Authors: C. Dale Brittain
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golden arrows. I finished getting the mare off the hil , dropped the reins to let her graze, and walked a little closer. I probed them gently with my mind. Unlike the lady with the unicorn, these arrows were real.
No one was shooting them, however. They were being propel ed by magic. Our scrambling on the hil side must have triggered a magic trap.
I thought about this for several minutes, waiting to see if the supply of arrows would become exhausted. When the steady twanging of an invisible bow and the whirr of each arrow continued, I decided that the arrows must be circling around somehow and coming back. The mare grazed unconcernedly.
I careful y put in place what I hoped was a protective spel against arrows, a variation of the spel that had kept me dry in the rain but needing twice as much concentration. Leaving the mare behind, I went slowly forward, going down on my hands and knees to crawl under the flight of the arrows. Ten yards further down the val ey, I heard the twanging cease.
I stood up, brushing the grass off my velvet trousers, and looked back. The val ey was quiet and peaceful. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I should go back for my mare, and then decided she would be fine where she was; she was unlikely to go retreat back up the steep hil , and if she came forward she would be fol owing me. If I went back, I was afraid I would set off the arrows again.
The val ey took another twist and suddenly widened into a clearing. On the far side, half tucked under the drooping branches of an enormous oak, was a smal green house, and sitting in front of the door was an old man with a white beard down to his knees.
I came three-quarters of the way across the clearing and then did the ful bow, ending with my head down and my arms widespread.
"Welcome, Wizard," said a rasping voice.
"Greetings, Master," I answered.
I surprised myself by cal ing him Master. At the wizards' school, the only wizard who had that title was the oldest wizard of al , the one in whose castle the school was held, who was reputed to have been in the City since the City was founded.
He accepted the title. "So you weren't taken in by the Lady and weren't frightened by my Arrows," he said. His voice was rough, as though he had not used it for weeks. "I know who you are. You're the new Royal Wizard of Yurt, and probably think you're pretty fancy."
I rose and came toward him. "I have come to seek the guidance of my predecessor."
"You aren't going to find much help from me if you're after what I think you are. I can tel from your clothes--and especial y that ostentatious belt buckle--that you fancy yourself to have authority over the powers of darkness." I guiltily turned off the glow of the moon and stars. "I may not have studied in the City, but I am a wizard of air and light."
I sat down at his feet, determined not to be insulted.
"Or is that pul over supposed to be a Father Noel costume?"
I was mortified. I had of course taken the tattered white fur off the col ar as soon as I bought the pul over and had hoped al suggestions of someone fat and jol y were long gone. But I was going to have to be polite to this crotchety old wizard who clearly knew ten times as much magic as I did. I took a deep breath. "I've greatly admired your magic lamps in the castle."
"Of course you have. I'l bet you couldn't make anything that nice."
"I made some very nice magic lamps for the chapel stair!" I said, stung into a reply.
"And the chaplain didn't tel you to mind your own business?" he said, apparently surprised.
"The chaplain and I are friends," I said stiffly, then wondered why I was defending him when one of the reasons I had come was to find out if my predecessor had ever thought the chaplain was turning toward evil.
"Young whippersnapper," pronounced the old wizard, which was probably his opinion of me as wel .
There was a pause while I tried to find something diplomatic to say. "Do they miss me up at the castle?" the old wizard said
No one was shooting them, however. They were being propel ed by magic. Our scrambling on the hil side must have triggered a magic trap.
I thought about this for several minutes, waiting to see if the supply of arrows would become exhausted. When the steady twanging of an invisible bow and the whirr of each arrow continued, I decided that the arrows must be circling around somehow and coming back. The mare grazed unconcernedly.
I careful y put in place what I hoped was a protective spel against arrows, a variation of the spel that had kept me dry in the rain but needing twice as much concentration. Leaving the mare behind, I went slowly forward, going down on my hands and knees to crawl under the flight of the arrows. Ten yards further down the val ey, I heard the twanging cease.
I stood up, brushing the grass off my velvet trousers, and looked back. The val ey was quiet and peaceful. For a moment I hesitated, wondering if I should go back for my mare, and then decided she would be fine where she was; she was unlikely to go retreat back up the steep hil , and if she came forward she would be fol owing me. If I went back, I was afraid I would set off the arrows again.
The val ey took another twist and suddenly widened into a clearing. On the far side, half tucked under the drooping branches of an enormous oak, was a smal green house, and sitting in front of the door was an old man with a white beard down to his knees.
I came three-quarters of the way across the clearing and then did the ful bow, ending with my head down and my arms widespread.
"Welcome, Wizard," said a rasping voice.
"Greetings, Master," I answered.
I surprised myself by cal ing him Master. At the wizards' school, the only wizard who had that title was the oldest wizard of al , the one in whose castle the school was held, who was reputed to have been in the City since the City was founded.
He accepted the title. "So you weren't taken in by the Lady and weren't frightened by my Arrows," he said. His voice was rough, as though he had not used it for weeks. "I know who you are. You're the new Royal Wizard of Yurt, and probably think you're pretty fancy."
I rose and came toward him. "I have come to seek the guidance of my predecessor."
"You aren't going to find much help from me if you're after what I think you are. I can tel from your clothes--and especial y that ostentatious belt buckle--that you fancy yourself to have authority over the powers of darkness." I guiltily turned off the glow of the moon and stars. "I may not have studied in the City, but I am a wizard of air and light."
I sat down at his feet, determined not to be insulted.
"Or is that pul over supposed to be a Father Noel costume?"
I was mortified. I had of course taken the tattered white fur off the col ar as soon as I bought the pul over and had hoped al suggestions of someone fat and jol y were long gone. But I was going to have to be polite to this crotchety old wizard who clearly knew ten times as much magic as I did. I took a deep breath. "I've greatly admired your magic lamps in the castle."
"Of course you have. I'l bet you couldn't make anything that nice."
"I made some very nice magic lamps for the chapel stair!" I said, stung into a reply.
"And the chaplain didn't tel you to mind your own business?" he said, apparently surprised.
"The chaplain and I are friends," I said stiffly, then wondered why I was defending him when one of the reasons I had come was to find out if my predecessor had ever thought the chaplain was turning toward evil.
"Young whippersnapper," pronounced the old wizard, which was probably his opinion of me as wel .
There was a pause while I tried to find something diplomatic to say. "Do they miss me up at the castle?" the old wizard said
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