Read Online Diary of a Conjurer by D. L. Gardner - Free Book Online Page B

sudden gust alarmed him. He stood. The
swift moving clouds cast dark shadows, but there was still enough
of a clear sky to see small glimmers on the ocean surface. With the
gale gaining strength, he wasn’t sure if the lights in the distance
were reflections or stars. When a flash of lightning invaded the
dark, the glint of a sail confirmed his suspicions. Ships were
approaching.
    The fury of a storm thundered an angry
warning. The wicked queen Hacatine had set her course to the
Northland. She was coming for him, for Meneka and for victory over
these unsuspecting people who called this land home. Hacatine had
been brewing her evil for years, certain that when she possessed
the magic of every wizard alive, she would have the power to
overcome the Wind and reign as queen of the entire world.
    But Kaempie realized earlier that day the
wind had given him a solution.
    If I relinquish my magic to the one force
that she cannot conquer, then she’ll never possess it. Never. It
will always work against her.
    Kaempie had never heard of a wizard
sacrificing his own powers. He’d seen the men from whom Hacatine
had taken magic. Once the green energy of wisdom and will was
depleted from their systems, they were mindless vegetables,
dependent on their loved ones to sustain them. It was a horrible
state of being. No one would ever ask to live like that.
    Still, it isn’t me that matters. What
matters is that Hacatine is denied her final triumph. I was born
with these gifts, and fate has demanded that they be taken from me.
If I act now while I’m strong, I can at least determine where my
magic goes.
    He turned to face the oncoming tempest. Wind
cut the rain against his face, making it almost impossible to keep
his eyes open. He lifted his head and held out his arms. The rain
permeated his skin, dampened his lips and cooled his cheeks. “Take
it then,” he whispered as he felt the magic tingle inside of him.
“I have no use for it if indeed Silvio, Reuben, and Meneka have
perished. I have no defense against the Sorceress. You have saved
men and nations for good causes. Papa talked about you.”
    His eyes welled with tears at the thought of
his father. If only the wind had saved his papa. The warmth of
salty drops mixed with the cold rain cascaded down his cheeks. “He
said you were our hope, and so I’m here to give you everything in
his honor. Everything I am. Take my powers of wisdom and will, and
use them against evil.”
    I have no idea what I’m doing. Wizards don’t
give up their powers. But what else can I put my faith in?
    He closed his eyes and breathed deeply,
letting the force of the tempest fill his lungs, and then his
being. Had his feet not been planted firmly on the ground, he swore
he would be flying.
    The wind answered him.
     
    Give us the song of wisdom
    Give us the song of healing
    Your will remains your own.
     
    Despite the storm, the tone was soft, its
sweetness reminded him of the voices of his sisters.
    “I will,” he said and surrendered his
magic.
    With a sudden jolt, lightning struck.
Blazing heat crackled through his body and a flash of bright green
hovered over him only for an instant. Stunned, he stood motionless
as the aura disappeared. His eyes stayed fixed on the three men he
had climbed the mountain with as they jumped from their beds. Their
faces were deathly pale as they gaped at him. They grabbed their
blankets and raced down the hill toward the beach.
    When the shock wore off, the gray of morning
lightened the sky. How long Kaempie had been standing there, frozen
like a statue, he couldn’t tell. The storm still raged. Streams of
running water rushed around his feet and cascaded over the rocks.
He was numb from cold. His drenched hair lay flat against his head,
drops trickled off of his nose into his mouth.
    With a shudder, he turned his back to the
wind and began his trek toward the fishing village alone.
     
    Reunion
     
    Kaempie had expected to come across the
wreckage of the primitive