Read Online Ways of Power 1: Power Rises by R. M. Willis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R. M. Willis
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his own." Grecrum then stood and went behind his desk. Reaching down into one of the drawers, he produced a rolled piece of parchment and offered it to Rancoth.
"What’s this?" Rancoth asked. "A last minute gift?"
Grecrum chuckled. "No, not really, it’s a map from Tower City to your old home. It lies exactly fifty-two miles to the south, just outside the small town of Illineas."
Rancoth took the paper and unrolled it, looking it over carefully. He didn't so much love maps as he loved what they represented; the possibility that there was more to be seen, and experienced than was readily available around him.
As this interaction had been playing out between the Arch Mage and his all but adopted son, another one was simultaneously occurring inside Dorbin's head.
"Please Dorbin do look after the boy."
"Eh we'll be fine, he's a good lad."
"I know, and he is looking forward to your little adventure, just keep in mind that once you get to the house, and he sees his old things, and possibly the corpse of his mother…"
"What?! It's still therre?"
"Yes, a spell was put on the place so that only a member of the family could enter or allow the admittance of others. Of course Rancoth has never returned, and neither has Adroman."
"That's disgusting!"
"Exactly my point, there is no telling how it will affect Rancoth. He will need your guidance, wisdom, and courage my old friend."
"All rright' it'll be fine he's made o' strrongerr stuff then you think. And I'll take good carre o' him. Now get out o' my head!"
"Thank you for the map, Grecrum, it was thoughtful of you, but we really must be going. We're killing daylight, as Dorbin likes to say!" Rancoth exclaimed as he re-rolled the map and placed it securely within the folds of his robe. He approached the Arch Mage, looking him over affectionately before giving him a forceful hug. “I’ll just go see Karakas and then we’ll be off.”
Grecrum smiled, and held him at arm's length for a moment. "Keep an eye on Dorbin, would you? You know how he likes to get himself into trouble."
Rancoth laughed, and turned to go. The knowing glance shared between Grecrum and Dorbin wasn't missed by Rancoth as they left the room.
As Rancoth and Dorbin made their way through the main hall, conversations suddenly hushed, only to be even more vigorously reanimated behind them. It was as if the two men were cutting through the Sea of Discussion, sending out a wake of new gossip to ripple through the room, and of course with time, through the city.
Everyone was curious to know where the Arch Mage's pet warlock and undersized smithy were off to in such a hurry. Rancoth was naturally aware of the effect he was having on the group at large; this only served to prove to him that he had made the right decision. He needed to get away for a while, and as he walked through the tower door to embrace the light and warmth of the sun, he felt invigorated.
After strolling through many side streets, and making their way down more than a few cramped and dark alleys they came to a rather large and lavish house. It was made mostly of dark walnut wood, causing it to stand out from the predominantly white structures of the rest of the city.
It stood at least four stories and spanned half a block of the street. There were no visible windows; instead there were huge skull carvings adorning the outside of the house. Only those who had been inside knew that the eye sockets actually functioned as windows. Two columns in the shape of elongated skeletons stood on the porch, their arms stretched to the heavens to hold up the verandah.
Though a rare talent among the Light Magi, communication with, and sometimes summoning of the dead was a highly profitable venture. Karakas, not only trained Rancoth in his arcane arts, he also sat as the necromancer's representative on the high council, and was among the richest of all the morbid beckoners.
The men approached the door with confidence, and Rancoth knocked
"What’s this?" Rancoth asked. "A last minute gift?"
Grecrum chuckled. "No, not really, it’s a map from Tower City to your old home. It lies exactly fifty-two miles to the south, just outside the small town of Illineas."
Rancoth took the paper and unrolled it, looking it over carefully. He didn't so much love maps as he loved what they represented; the possibility that there was more to be seen, and experienced than was readily available around him.
As this interaction had been playing out between the Arch Mage and his all but adopted son, another one was simultaneously occurring inside Dorbin's head.
"Please Dorbin do look after the boy."
"Eh we'll be fine, he's a good lad."
"I know, and he is looking forward to your little adventure, just keep in mind that once you get to the house, and he sees his old things, and possibly the corpse of his mother…"
"What?! It's still therre?"
"Yes, a spell was put on the place so that only a member of the family could enter or allow the admittance of others. Of course Rancoth has never returned, and neither has Adroman."
"That's disgusting!"
"Exactly my point, there is no telling how it will affect Rancoth. He will need your guidance, wisdom, and courage my old friend."
"All rright' it'll be fine he's made o' strrongerr stuff then you think. And I'll take good carre o' him. Now get out o' my head!"
"Thank you for the map, Grecrum, it was thoughtful of you, but we really must be going. We're killing daylight, as Dorbin likes to say!" Rancoth exclaimed as he re-rolled the map and placed it securely within the folds of his robe. He approached the Arch Mage, looking him over affectionately before giving him a forceful hug. “I’ll just go see Karakas and then we’ll be off.”
Grecrum smiled, and held him at arm's length for a moment. "Keep an eye on Dorbin, would you? You know how he likes to get himself into trouble."
Rancoth laughed, and turned to go. The knowing glance shared between Grecrum and Dorbin wasn't missed by Rancoth as they left the room.
As Rancoth and Dorbin made their way through the main hall, conversations suddenly hushed, only to be even more vigorously reanimated behind them. It was as if the two men were cutting through the Sea of Discussion, sending out a wake of new gossip to ripple through the room, and of course with time, through the city.
Everyone was curious to know where the Arch Mage's pet warlock and undersized smithy were off to in such a hurry. Rancoth was naturally aware of the effect he was having on the group at large; this only served to prove to him that he had made the right decision. He needed to get away for a while, and as he walked through the tower door to embrace the light and warmth of the sun, he felt invigorated.
After strolling through many side streets, and making their way down more than a few cramped and dark alleys they came to a rather large and lavish house. It was made mostly of dark walnut wood, causing it to stand out from the predominantly white structures of the rest of the city.
It stood at least four stories and spanned half a block of the street. There were no visible windows; instead there were huge skull carvings adorning the outside of the house. Only those who had been inside knew that the eye sockets actually functioned as windows. Two columns in the shape of elongated skeletons stood on the porch, their arms stretched to the heavens to hold up the verandah.
Though a rare talent among the Light Magi, communication with, and sometimes summoning of the dead was a highly profitable venture. Karakas, not only trained Rancoth in his arcane arts, he also sat as the necromancer's representative on the high council, and was among the richest of all the morbid beckoners.
The men approached the door with confidence, and Rancoth knocked
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