Wielders of Magic, Book 1: A Spell Binding Tale

Great. I successfully humiliated myself. This is just amazing, I wish I could tell my wife about this. She'd get a kick out of it. He chuckled, a ripple of pain streaking through his body. Ohhhhhhh name of the gods!

"Alright, lets do this once again."

Who is that?

"Alfenous, carlanides, melfalino melun-"

What is he doing?

"Name of the Abyss!" Rey screamed, his hands clenching and his eyes snapping open. Impending pain wracked his body, seeming to flood his mind with nothing but agony. He couldn't think at that moment, all he wanted to do was disappear or to die, he didn't care!

Than . . . it stopped.

"Relax now, you will be fine."

Again, ouch.

"Will he be alright?" Jackson asked, trying to sneak a look into his brothers tent.

"Yes. Well at least his bones aren't jelly anymore, but the rest have to heal on their own. There is still some minor fractures in his legs, and if I know anything at all, he will need to walk with a cane for the rest of his life." The doctor replied, his skin dark and his eyes the color of the sun.

"What about Arthur?" Drusilla pushed past her comrade, looking the physician in the eye.

"His injuries weren't as severe as Mr. Spellbinders, and I believe he will heal rather quickly. As for the girl, I found nothing wrong with her. She is a strange being though." He shrugged and walked away, leaving them with many more unanswered questions.

"How are you feeling?" Jackson asked, looking at her with concern.

She turned away without another look and walked slowly into the tent of her lover, hoping he was well enough to talk.

Name of the Abyss, I am really alone. Jackson thought, overwhelming sadness pouring over him. His eyes flitted over the crowd of people around him and he wondered how they would ever fit in. His mind remembered a cold spear at the back of his neck, and a rather ragged man stepping in front of him. He was tall, with dark hair and violet eyes, power seeming to shine around him in a halo. He wore robes, but they were torn up and kind of shabby. He was terribly magnificent, and he could do nothing but stare . . .

"State your name and business!" The king of Shadow City shouted.

"I am Jackson Spellbinder, and these are my friends. We do not mean you any harm, and most of my comrades are hurt. Please help us!" The warlock replied as he was shoved to his knees. "I saw your city, how it was in war. I know what its like to be shoved out of your home, I do, and I am willing to help you rebuild it, if you only help our friends-" His eyes floated over to his brothers lifeless form. "-And my brother."

"He is your brother, the magic user?" The tall, dark man pointed his long sword at Rey's throat.

". . . Yes. Please, do not kill him." Jackson put his head down, fearful that these people were hunters as well.

"Aye, my fellow warriors in persecution."

There was a 'zing' sound and when the warlock looked up, he saw the King of Shadow City with his sword back in its sheath, a hand extended to him.

"Take my hand. A brother of a magic wielder, is a brother to me."

Jackson stared at it for a moment, than reached up, taking his hand. The king pulled him to his feet than said something in a different language. A man walked out of the crowd with white hair piled on top of his head, and eyes like the sun. He looked down at their fallen comrades and bit his lip.

"Can you heal them?" The king asked.

"I . . . yes. I can."

"Ameliah, Ferivora and Ketli, get these two some food and water, also, find them some housing for the night. They deserve a rest."

Three woman with the same dark skin and sunlit eyes ran out of the crowd and took Jackson and Drusilla by the hands, dragging them off to who knew where.

"And here I am." The warlock said under his breath, his hand flying quickly across a page. He was writing everything down, everything he could remember from previous events. Something had compelled him to do so, and he was glad that one of the Shadowian's had found him the book.

"Have . . . we found . . . our new home?" He said allowed as he wrote. He always did that, said things as he jotted them down on a page, it was one of his many characteristics, and was why most knew what he was writing just by listening for a few moments. That was one of the reasons he never wrote personal things.

Well . . . in public anyway.

"I don't know, have you?" A deep, kind of breathy voice asked. Jackson looked up to see the King of Shadow City once again, still making his tongue ketch in his throat from the power that emanated from him.

"I would like to think so, that's the whole reason we are out here." Jackson closed his book and stuffed it in his back pocket, standing up and shaking the tall mans hand. He was no longer wearing his torn robes, but a comfortable looking shirt with long pants wrapped in black leather. His eyes were still a bright violet, as suspected, but his once long hair had been cut short.

"I have not come for idle chit-chat, dear fellow warlock, but to assign you a job. Everyone has their place in my city, and if you are not up to it, we do not feed you." He stared right into Jackson's chocolate brown orbs, making the magic user uncomfortable.

"Yes, I agree. What do you need me to do?"

"Do you have any experience with taming horses?" He folded his arms, tilting his head to the side a little.

"Uh . . . well, I did one, but that's not really my area of expertise." He shrugged.

"Do you know someone who is?" Rentham's eyes floated around for a moment, a look of concern appearing on his face.

"My brother, Rey, is actually very good with the beasts, only he hasn't been around them much anymore. I don't know, you would have to ask him." Jackson's hand twirled his pencil around in his right hand, feeling its hard, wooden texture and wondering when he could get back to writing. He had been absorbed in it lately, almost too much. Maybe it was the fact that he had no one to talk to.

"How is he feeling?"

"I couldn't say."

Rentham spun around and walked towards the medical tents, where three healers walked about, either gathering herbs, or preforming remedies. The king talked to one of them for a moment before going to the last and entering.

Well, he is going to have fun. Jackson thought and sat down again, pulling out his journal and quickly scribbling words into it. Lots of fun.

Edowain walked through the forest with two maids at her side, both scrounging for any edible roots. She walked with a her eyes and ears open, listening for anything that might move under the shelter of the brush, just waiting for someone from her home city to climb out of the shadows and assassinate her.

Of course her husband would never let that happen. She was not entirely defenseless.

Her fingers fondled a crystal pendent that hung from her neck, shinning with all the rays of the sun. All she had to do was say a word to it and her husband would come.

"Stop!" Edowain hissed, her hand reaching for the long, quarter staff that was strapped to her back. She held her breath, the maids doing the same, all listening to the woods with the many sounds they made, weather it be the wind or animals.

A soft sound floated into the air around them, making them relax a little. It was the sound of someone crying.

"You two, continue with your work." Edowain commanded and separated from her group.

She walked along a rabbit trail with the sound of a small brook ahead. Her hands felt the long ferns that grew as tall as her waist and she smiled. She loved the forest, with a passion almost as strong as the one for her husband. The trees were her friends, almost family, and they gave her a serenity that no other force could do.

Every time she saw a fire . . . something inside her would die. She didn't know why, but it was there, it had always been there.

She was part of the forest.

Her eyes settled on something sitting upon a log in front of the, now found, brook. It was a girl, with flowing pink locks that fell around her shoulders and back all the way to her rump. She had her head buried in her hands, and her muscles were tense, as if she had been in that position for a while.

Sitting down beside her, Edowain pulled her quarter staff from her back and held it in front of her, leaning on it. "Want to talk?"

The girl snapped her head up, her eyes red. "I didn't even hear you." She sniffed, whipping her eyes and nose.

"Here." Edowain handed her a kerchief, looking into the brook so the girl didn't feel uncomfortable. "How long have you been here?"

"I . . . I don't really know." She started to hand it back when the woman refused, a smile cracking her lips.

"Keep it, its a gift."

"Thank you."

Edowain suddenly wrapped her in a hug, feeling how her heart was beating as fast as a birds, and tremble of her aching muscles. She was frightened, and saddened. Someone had to be dying, or hurt, someone that she cared about.

"Come to my camp, we will get you something to eat. You look a little pail. What is your name?"

"I am from a camp already, one lead by the king of the Shadow City. My name is Drusilla."

"Oh, you are . . . oh!" Edowain laughed a little, her voice like the ring of a bell. "The new comers!"

"I think so."

"Yes. Well, lets go back and we will get you some stew. I hear the hunters have tracked down a large stag, one that could supply half the camp with food."

"When was that?"

"An hour ago. I didn't see it, but the children were excited." She stood up, her quarter staff being placed behind her back once again. Her hand extended out to her, waiting for the girl to take it. "You must come before its all taken. The people are like wolves, they eat everything they can get their hands on."

Drusilla took her hand, Edowain helping her stand up. The two left the brook together, walking back down the rabbit trail until they found the main path the two maids had taken.

"Were . . . I thought we were going back to camp?" Drusilla asked, her steps a little clumsy.

"We are, but I have to find my friends really quick." She motioned for her to follow. Drusilla did hesitantly, knowing that she needed someone to lead her back. She had gone too far into the woods, and that was part of the reason she had been crying.

That and the fact that Arthur had not awakened yet.

The two walked for a bit, both casual but still ready to take down anything that attacked. That was everyone attitude then, especially when so much evil rained in every corner of the world, flowing out into the rest like ink in water.

"Stupid osmosis." Edowain mumbled.

"Stupid what?"

"Oh nothing." She laughed a little. "You wouldn't get it."

Suddenly there was a high pitched scream that seemed to hit them square in the face. They froze, hearing another enter the air. Edowain turned around and looked at Drusilla, who had an emerald studded sword already in hand. "Up to a possible fight?" She asked.

"Sure." Drusilla tried to steady her shaking hands, secretly wishing Jackson was here to back her up. She wanted his friendship back, wanted to hear his stupid jokes and weird conversation starters. What he said to Arthur was childish yes, but . . .

Was it worth ending a friendship over? Ending a real friendship over?

The two woman ran into the brush, following the sounds of the screams. The forest seemed to get darker as they bolted deeper and deeper into it, the brush around them getting thicker and more tangled around their ankles.

"Ah!" Edowain cried out and fell to the earth. Drusilla galloped by and jumped right over her, her sharp, pointed ears picking up on the faint sounds of the woman ahead.

The Red Witch suddenly stopped, a strange, sort of disturbing house sitting in front of her.

House? Is that a house?

Edowain caught up with her and stopped beside her, both looking at the intriguing spectacle. It was a large, dome like structure made of tangled, white trees, with a single door laying at the base.

Another scream sounded from the inside, this one more ragged and hair raising. It was long and drawn out, ending in a sort of gurgling sound.

The sound of a slit throat.

"Come on!" Edowain ran ahead once again, her quarter staff in hand. She continually hit the tangled dome in front of her, not even breaking the small, dark green leaves that riddled it.

"Stand back!" Drusilla commanded and held her sword up, running at it with great speed. She shouted a few words in the language of magic and she started to glow as her sword embedded its self in the domes white wood. It caught fire and spread through out the whole thing, going up in a quick, and efficient blaze that turned it to ashes.

Edowain leaned forward hesitantly and softly blew on it. The thing made a sort of popping sound before falling to the ground in a pile of burned wood.

"Oh name of the gods!" Drusilla shouted in disgust and turned around, throwing up in the bushes. Edowain couldn't believe what she saw either, and her hand came up over her mouth, turning away as well.

Inside lay a butcher shop, not one of animals, but one of people. There were torsos, appendages, heads, nothing had been lost.

And the most horrifying of it all, was the bloody, arm-less, leg-less body of one of the scavenger woman, her throat cut.

"Who . . . what did this?" Drusilla asked, tears of horror in her eyes.

"I don't know, we have to tell my husband." The monk woman started to run back into the woods, the way the came, heading back to the camp of her people. "Come, we haven't a moment to loose!"

Drusilla took one more look at the gruesome sight than followed, hoping she would soon forget it.

"How is it that you can walk?" Jackson asked his brother. The two were walking a few steps behind Rentham, who was leading them to some unknown place in the woods.

"I used dark magic, what else?" Rey answered, a sly grin crossing his lips. "You have to admit, it is pretty handy."

"Yeah, if you are willing to give up your soul for it."

Rey stopped him, his eyes blazing. "My soul is my own, it belongs to no one. I did not loose it!"

"Well than what is the price? You have to pay something for it, nothing is for free, brother, you know that more than I." Jackson returned, his own eyes burning embers.

"Gentlemen, please." Rentham said, turning around to face them.

The two backed down from each other and composed themselves. "Sorry, your majesty." Jackson said.

"We are here." The king gestured to a large, open grassland.

"Where is here?" Rey asked, his icy blue eyes searching the place meticulously.

"Wait." Rentham pulled out a small, metal tube, decorated with golden wings and a strange design that spidered across it, one that reminded them of horses. He brought it to his lips and blue into it.

The sound of the pipe was a low, melodic sort of whistle, only unearthly. It was two toned, strangely, and Jackson sucked in his breath, wondering how he came by that wonderful instrument.

There was the distant flapping of wings, many wings that made their eyes turn towards the sky. There flew a large gathering of Pegasus' or at least they looked as such.

"Why . . . do they have horns?" Jackson asked, spotting the one leading the group which was ebony black with small, ivory horns. They were placed along the horses face, around its eyes and down its mane.

"These are not the well known Pegasus, these are Phentus, horses created by magic users like ourselves. They are greatly prized, and some hunt them for sport and their horns. We ride them, as a sign to all those who hunt us as well. We will not back down, and we are proud to have the gift of enchantment. We are the wielders of magic, and we will find ourselves a home." He than turned, looking at Rey. "Tame them, and bring them back to camp. We will depart in three days."

"Rentham, I do not believe I can tame all of those creatures in three days-"

The king of Shadow City turned around and grabbed the warlock's throat. "You address me as king, and nothing less."

"I cannot remember ever swearing my allegiance to you." Rey hissed, slowly prying his fingers from his throat. "I will help you climb your way back to being king, but as of today, you are nobody's king, especially not mine!"

Rentham was forced down to his knees, the impossibly strong hand of the Dark Warlock crushing his own.

"Do you understand me?" Rey asked, his eyes that of a cats, blood red and dancing like fire.

The grey skinned man looked like he was about to surrender, but his hand suddenly closed around Rey's and he jumped into the air, grabbing the Dark Warlock by the arm and flinging him over his head.

Rey landed flat on his back, a wheeze escaping his lips. Rentham drew a dagger and held it to his throat, a spell leaving his mouth and freezing his opponent in his position. The Dark Warlock couldn't move, and he was at the mercy of the king of Shadow City.

"Well, you have certainly earned my respect." Rey laughed as Rentham backed away, putting his weapon back into its sheath.

"Rentham!"

"Edowain?" The king turned, seeing his wife run down the trail. "What is the matter?"

"We found something, something terrible." Drusilla replied, out of breath from running.

"It can not wait." The golden haired woman said, panting.

"I will asemble a party. We will head out in an hour." The king passed the two horse tamers and walked with his wife back to camp.

"What are you two doing?" The wingless witched asked.

"Training Phentice." Rey replied with a smile. "Run along now, you two, brother mine, I must be left alone to work." He cracked his knuckles and walked into the meadow.