Imagine a world like ours circling it's sun in 378 days, overhead filling the northern sky is a galaxy that is hurtling to a collision in less than a million years. On this planet magic is real for the gifted few while most live a medieval life with Kings, lords and freemen and an underclass of surfs and slaves.
There were five 'class's' of magic matching the five day week, with five flavours of magic and five ranks. The magic's were Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Void. The five ascending ranks are: Lesser Mage, Mage, Wizard, Greater Wizard and Great Wizard.
The five day week joins with four others to make a month, three months make a season and, you've guessed it, five seasons make the year with the three odd days being festival days. The first celebrating the turning of the year, the second the first day of Spring with the last day the final day of Harvest.
The five seasons correspond to Spring: the bursting forth of life. Summer: the long lazy days growing to maturity. Harvest: reaping of the fruits of your labour. Autumn: the dying season, leaves falling stems browning off. And Winter: the brief cold death of the year as it warms again into the new one.
Difference between mages and wizards is that the mages can use only one of the elemental magic's, with Lesser Mages being less powerful while Mages control one fully, Wizards command two with Greater Wizards usually commanding three or more rarely four with a Great wizard commanding all five.
Command of the earth magic was most common; most of those could develop a power of healing. Fire and Air were the next most common with the magic of the void being the rarest.
One
Taking the long way home
The morning was a fine one after last night's rain, the smell of pine and the spring blossom of the heather was on the breeze. I felt replete with my fine breakfast of cinnamon flavoured porridge with a dash of maple syrup.
All was right with my world as I stood and stretched to my full six foot still feeling the slight ache in my bones from the hard ground I'd slept on. This was my second solo journey and I'd had an enjoyable few days of complete freedom, a rare thing in my father's strict household.
I skimped on freshening up in the icy cold water; I could have a warm bath when I got home, luxuriate in it while my father stashed the fresh supplies away and mother retired to the kitchen to consult with the cook.
My horse was saddled and the donkey loaded with my tent and the goods I'd been to Bravermouth to buy. The panniers of Janaweed for my father and herbs and spices for mother. I intended to rest up on a comfortable chair and after that my own comfortable bed after my two day trek home.
I mounted and urged my nag forward, letting it pick its own pace. The ass brayed as the reins were pulled tight, dragging it reluctantly from the clump of ferns it was feeding on. I sat easily in the saddle as the horse ambled along; thinking about Webberli and the 'thank you' I might get from her for the beaded necklace that nestled in my pocket.
The trail before me was levelling out and round the corner of the still white capped peak above me laid my home, another four hours or so of easy riding. Already I could see the sheep below me in the high pastures feeding from the new growth of the spiky mountain grass and stunted sage bushes.
As I rounded the scree my pleasant daydreams were forgotten as I saw a Traveller's wagon pulled over some half a mile or so further down the trail. That would not please my father when he heard of it. He would soon have his men at arms up here to move them on before too many sheep disappeared.
I let my horse meander on, wondering if I should stop and retrieve my sword from the donkey. From this distance all I could see was a woman and a young boy fussing round one of the nags that drew their wagon.
As I approached the woman noticed my coming and stood to the side the wagon while the boy disappeared round the back making me wary and cautious enough to stop yards short.
"Greetings," I said as I flexed my legs in the stirrups and readied myself for any tricks.
"Our horse has gone lame," she announced, indicating one of its forelegs. "It was fine last night and showed no distress this morning when I hitched her."
She looked to be in her thirties, fair skinned and with light brown hair tucked under her headscarf, well fed and still attractive enough with a well-proportioned body, not typical of any Travellers I had seen before with their hand to mouth existence.
I steadied my mind and looked again at her with my magical sight. I could see the feint glow of her aurora; it had the signs of a healer with the power of a lesser mage, the scene before me getting more unusual as I took it in.
I looked at the Mare and saw the simple spell she had used to try and ease the swelling of the fetlock. The scene and its surrounds looked natural and harmless and I eased myself from the saddle to see if I could help.
A cursory examination showed that the horse had a loose shoe and had somehow gotten a stone lodged under it, probably picked it up when they set out, crossing the edge of the road. No wonder it was lame, no real Traveller would have missed something that obvious and my suspicions rose again.
"The horse needs resting and a blacksmith," I said standing. "There's a stone wedged in its hoof, you'll need to get it out and tomorrow you can take it to Wensdale. The smithy there will reshoe it for you."
"Wensdale?" she asked, "Where might that be?"
"Three miles back down this road and another four down the southerly road. The Smithy's a good man and will ask a fair price if you mention my name, I am Davor of Pike Manor."
I knelt again and drew out my dagger to see if I could free the stone without having to remove the shoe completely. The woman was holding the reins of the snickering animal as I eased its foot up, looking under its breast to observe my doings.
Without warning I felt a quick arm go round my throat and the point of a dagger pressed into my leather jerkin, its tip digging in my side.
"We want your horse," a young girlish voice hissed in my ear, my thoughts leapt to the young boy I had seen.
I rammed my elbow back and felt it connect with his midsection, knocking the air from him. My other hand dropped my dagger and arched back to clamp on his wrist and pull the dagger away from my ribs.
Feeling him sag backwards from my blow I released his wrist and twisted on my heels to land another blow to his jaw. As the boy fell backward I flung myself upon him, taking his throat in my hand whilst the other gripped and twisted his skinny wrist to loose the weapon.
"Get off her," the woman behind me shouted.
"Wha...."
As I turned to look I saw her swinging a large rock and felt it connect with the side of my head a split second later, dazing me and knocking me from the boy I had pinned to the ground.
As the blackness overtook me I heard her shout "Quickly Rash, go and get some rope...."
I slowly became aware of the lurching of the wagon, the salty taste of blood and the throbbing of my head. As I struggled to sit I found my hands and feet were bound and I was lying in a narrow cot in the semidarkness.
"Hey, untie me!"
But there came no reply, only the swaying of the wagon as it travelled the trail. The angle of the wagon indicated that I must have been out for a while as we climbed back up to the pass in the crook of the mountain.
I strained and struggled against the ropes that bound my arms behind me but they were fast enough to secure me despite my struggles. My legs were a different matter; whoever had bound them had left them just loose enough to let me work my legs free, though it took nearly half an hour to do so.
With my legs free I swung them round and over the side of the cot, almost trapping them in the chests that lay invisible in the gloom, sending myself tumbling against the door to the box. As I tried to untangle myself the door was thrown open and the light flooded in, half blinding me.
"He's getting free," the young voice of Rash shouted. "Give him some more potion."
"No," I heard the older woman say. "He's had enough for one day; we don't want to kill him with an overdose.
