Final revisions and editing have been completed on
Magician Prince and that remains is to properly format it for the various electronic versions. I'm expecting that that will be done and the book will be published for all to see on May 18th.
In the meanwhile, here is a preview of the prologue. As you may recall,
Rogue Magician's prologue was a recitation of the story of creation by Tomlin, and
Fallen Magician's prologue was a letter written by Byrn to his mother. In keeping with that theme, the third prologue is a journal entry from a dwarf that crosses paths with Byrn on his journey back to Aurelia.
Prologue
The first time I met the sorcerer called Byrn was when I caught him stalking about in the lower reaches of Cardamon. Humans were not a terribly unusual sight in the underground city, but my mother did not raise a fool and it was plain to see that this tall human was following me about town. To be fair, I was being overly cautious of those around me, because I was sneaking about too and that may have played a role in my success at identifying my pursuer. I thought I was being particularly clever with the spell I had draped over me like a coalman’s coat. My disguise was that of a handsome young dwarf. I suppose it would have been wiser to pose as a more mature and less striking looking fellow, but it is the province of those that are very old like myself to want to relive their younger days and I must admit that I do enjoy the lingering glance and smile of a young lady sporting a full beard on occasion.
I digress, this
human had seen fit to follow me and I had to get rid of him before my
rendezvous. At first I tried to lose him in the twisting corridors of the city.
I assumed he was a newcomer to Cardamon and thought that losing him would be
easy among the cramped streets and twisting passageways, but every time I
thought him lost the human turned up a few minutes later. Finally, I had no
choice except to confront him or miss my appointment and I was not about to
miss the magi convocation.
After a few
more sharp turns I managed to lose the human for a minute and circled back
behind him. I drew my fisher’s knife. I had no intention of using it, of
course. I just thought to scare this nosey human a bit and get him to leave me
be, but when I jumped out behind him and shouted, “Ah ha!” he whipped around
like lightning and with no more than a glance at the wall beside us a small
block of stone shot out and hit my hand, knocking the weapon out of my grasp.
My yelp was like that of a ratting-dog and the human laughed at me, but it was
not a cold or callous sound and I found myself apologizing for coming at him
with a knife. He was a likeable human and I quickly learned that this Byrn was
a powerful sorcerer with a particularly unique ability. He could see magic and
not just the spectacle of a fireball or the shimmer of a ward, but he could see
the subtler magics and its natural flow around him and in that way he could
manipulate that flow to serve his will. That was how he began following me,
because he caught a glimpse of my spell and it was unlike any enchantments he
knew in his homeland of Aurelia across the Great Sea. It was that ability that
prevented me from losing his tail despite all of my craftiness, because he
could always track my spell even if I was out of sight. As intriguing as Byrn
and his peculiar talent was I still had a commitment to keep with my magi
brethren and had to bid the human adieu, but we agreed to meet up the next
evening at my favorite tavern, The Shaving Axe.
The next
evening could not have come soon enough for me to meet with this master of
magic. The cogs turned in my head as possibilities danced before me. What could
I learn from a magi like Byrn? He obviously seemed interested in learning more
about the differences between our culture’s magics and I must admit that the
more I thought about it the more I found it difficult to contain my excitement
at the idea of some scholarly discussion with a magi from another culture.
I had been waiting
for no more than a few minutes when a burly dwarf sat down across from me. He
landed in the chair with a harrumph and demanded a rock-ale loudly from the
tavern matron. My illusion was not active and I drank with my usual aplomb as a
grey-haired, old dwarf, “That seat is saved, friend.”
The burly
fellow looked at me with a sidelong glance and actively ignored me. His fingers
strummed on the table as he waited on his drink and he gladly took it from the
matron. “Put it on his tab,” he said and gestured to me with a cock of his
head. I was about to object when he took a drink of his rock-ale and
immediately gagged on it. “This is awful. How can you drink this?”
“If you don’t
like it, the door can hit your ass on the way out,” declared the tavern matron,
but I thought that I had the game figured out and told the matron that my
friend would behave himself.
“Byrn?” I
asked, incredulous. He nodded. He was wearing an illusion cloak just as I had
done the day before. Apparently he was able to analyze just about any magic
spell that he saw and replicate it!
For the next
week Byrn and I met every day. We traded stories and discussed magic with such
frequency that those days were a blur of intellectual stimulation. Byrn came to
Cardamon with a group of elves seeking passage back to his homeland, but with
winter being in midseason there were no ships sailing from the overdocks and as
powerful as the sorcerer was he was still going to be stuck in my fair dwarven
city for the next three months. He had been away from his homeland for nine
months already and was desperate to get back to Aurelia and to his woman. To
hear him speak of her, Alia Necros was a goddess come to earth. It was clear
that he was in love with the woman and that only fueled his need to get back home.
Byrn also told
me of some great troubles facing his homeland. Human magi were being imprisoned
without cause and magic collars were being used to control them and thwart
their wills. Worse, a friend of Byrn’s called Sane, who was once a royal
sorcerer, was now a slave and in need of rescue.
It was then
that I decided to impart some sad news to my new friend. Aurelia was in a state
of turmoil and civil unrest since he left. Every day until the ships stopped
sailing due to the coming harsh winter there were stories abound of their magi
attacking all over the human kingdom and the populace was living in terror as
the fighting grew worse. If I thought that this news would dissuade Byrn from
going back to Aurelia, then I would have been dead wrong. If anything the news
only served to make him more adamant about returning as soon as possible.
We also spoke
of the troubles facing magi in Ghant and more specifically in Cardamon. Unlike
the human kingdoms that have notoriously treated their magic wielders harshly,
the dwarven kingdoms generally took a more cooperative approach to their magi.
Our magi were adept at enchantments and used our skills in the creation of
magical goods that were sold all over the world. However, our noble families
and elected representatives wished to pay us so poorly that we would be akin to
slave labor so that they would get rich from our work while we lived in
poverty. They thought that they could get away with it, because we were such a
small segment of the populace and no one would care, but we went on strike and
not long after they started rounding up all of the dwarven magi and imprisoning
us or slapping the wealthier among us with hefty fines under the threat of
draining their family fortunes.
I don’t recall how exactly we got on the
subject of myths and legends one semi=drunken night, but I told Byrn and his
elf companion of the firehawk, a dwarven heroic figure from the old tales. The
elf was a tall woman with no chin hair to speak of that always made me think of
a newborn baby, but Sari was congenial company and never refused a drink. The
rest of the elves that traveled with them had left for their forests, having
delivered Byrn safely to our fair city. Anyway, we got to talking one night and
I told them the story of the firehawk- a bird born of fire and magic that gave
its life to save the dwarven people from our ancient orcen enemies. It was said
that the firehawk would rise again one day when the dwarves were next presented
with a crisis too great for them to face alone, but that day never came. Byrn
told me that there was a similar bird in Aurelia called the phoenix, but that
they were supposed to have all been destroyed hundreds of years ago as they
were believed to be the servants of magicians.
Then Byrn had
an idea that would change the fate of magi in the dwarven realms. He spent days
studying bestiaries and going above ground during the daylight hours. When I
asked him what he was up to he would reply that he was “bird watching” or
“working on something new.” Working on something new? I’ll be honest and admit
that I was excited to see what Byrn was planning. It seems so obvious looking
back on it now, but at the time I could only wonder at what this magician, who
seemed to have near limitless energy and could replicate any spell that he saw,
was trying to accomplish.
Finally, Byrn
came to me and announced that he had something to show me. I watched him with
rapt attention as he bent down, bracing his back for what was to come. It
happened nearly in an instant as a bright red burst of fire shot from his back.
I literally fell out of my chair as I watched the flame grow, then take shape.
The fire spread out to either side of him at twice the length of a human. At
first I thought that something had gone wrong and his spell was out of control,
but the flames began to coalesce and take a definite shape before solidifying
as a fire construct. Byrn had made himself a pair of fiery wings. He flapped
them experimentally and looked to me with a grin that reminded me of a child
that had just learned his first spell.
“The firehawk,”
I stammered, flabbergasted.
Even having
seen it, I did not comprehend what Byrn was intending, but the full gravity of
what he planned became apparent a day later when he broke into a work camp and
freed a dozen magi that were arrested for peaceful protests. Among them was my
son, Nikare. During their escape Byrn donned his fire wings and masked his
appearance with my illusion cloak before declaring from atop a building in a
most dramatic fashion that he was the firehawk and that the magi had his favor.
The city was in
an uproar over the news and in the weeks to come Byrn played the role of the
firehawk at every opportunity to promote magi rights. He never set out to hurt
anyone. That was not what our protests were about, but his appearances brought
attention to our plight with the commoners and more importantly it got the
attention of the governing council, but I always got the feeling that Byrn was
always thinking about his home in Aurelia and the woman he left behind.
-An excerpt from the journals of Tire Goldennaire, Council
Magister
