Hero's Journey by Rachel Ford

Author:Rachel Ford
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-10-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

You have gained goodwill with Ieon the Wizard.

You are revered among the people of Ieon’s Valley.

The thoughts flashed through Jack’s mind as the wizard filled his hands with goods and a small coin purse. His mind processed the haul an item at a time.

Added to inventory: wolf bane

Added to inventory: healing potion

And so on, until he reached the end. Then, a new thought hit him.

Removed from inventory: paralysis potion

Removed from inventory: fake map

“I’ll take these off your hands,” Ieon said. “I know naught what manner of pretense they were given under, but I warrant they were said to aid you. They would not, my friend. The map will lead you not to the pass and the dragon, but to a lonely crag where there is no water, no green and growing things, and no life at all. Probably, it was to lure you there in case they lost your scent: so they would know where to find you, to devour you.

“And the potion would paralyze you as soon as you tried to use it, to make you a compliant dinner. They were not very sporting, those men and women of the moon.”

Jack gulped, thanking the hoarding gene that stopped him from using his supplies unless absolutely necessary. It had probably saved his life. One of them, anyway. But new thoughts crowded out the old ones.

Tell me, master of magic, how this evil befell you and your house.

And,

[End conversation]

He wanted to be on the road. He had a whole game to finish before he could get home in real life. But Jack was a gamer at heart. He’d just spent hours in a literal dungeon, setting a trap and clearing it of werewolves and wizards. He wanted to know the why behind it. How could he not?

So he chose the first option, and Ieon told him the story. The Pretender had been Ieon’s apprentice, back in the day. “He was not a very good wizard, but he was like a son to me. I loved him with every fiber of my being. Many long years I spent trying to make a better spellweaver out of him, teaching him my secrets, building him artifacts to strengthen his enchantment, to counteract his natural weakness to magic.

“He learned, a little. And he got to be alright. But he wasn’t going to be a wizard, not like I was. He knew that. We both did. I never said it, and neither did he. But it was clear: he could manipulate magic others had already wrought, but he struggled to create it himself.

“But I didn’t care. He was my son, or might as well have been, magic or no magic. He would always have the first place in my home.”

The old man fell silent, staring past the others, as if into some distant horizon only he could see.

“What happened next?” Jack asked, quietly and as unobtrusively as possible.

“I failed him. His heart filled with hate and despair and darkness. But I didn’t see it. I thought all was well.

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