The Wizard

Chapter 7 part 2

On the third day of rest, Ezequiel began to prepare the trip, moving quietly while Igor drank tea. He tried to help, but the wise man told him to save his strength. He opened the closet, whispered something and a pair of backpacks appeared that he took. Then, he took off and wore a cape of wine color inside and gold outside.

"So you, despite being level two, are a guardian!" Igor said curiously. "Of what, since I never saw this color?"

"I am the guardian of all the ancestral wisdom, son." He laughed, mocking. "Nothing more appropriate for the oldest man of the thirteen planes, don't you think?"

"I believe so," Igor replied. "But remember that there are fifteen planes."

"And your cape, Igor?" Ezequiel asked. "It was so destroyed that it could not be identified, it and your other clothes."

"It's because it's white," Igor said, downcast. "All white."

"Why didn't you say?" he asked, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Are you ashamed of it? Did you think that by omitting this in your report there would be no interference?"

"No," Igor replied, "just because it doesn't seem relevant to me. Master or student, what difference does it make at this time?"

"Look, son, I've seen hundreds of wizards, thousands, and never one with powers as strong as yours, so be proud of it. Now rebuild your clothes and let's go."

Igor did nothing but think, something that fascinated Ezequiel. His clothes changed without transition and he looked very different. A silk shirt with long sleeves, loose on the arms and tight on the wrists, appeared in place of the T-shirt and the pants, of a very comfortable fabric, had a more normal appearance than the jeans. The cape hung on his shoulders almost to his feet, swaying with the gentle breeze and making a suggestive noise of cloth in the wind, all white. On his feet he wore comfortable shoes and, on his waist, he carried a sword in flaming gold with a handle all adorned with precious stones, wrapped in a sheath of an unknown material and intense and bright red color. Except for the weapon, everything else was white and Igor looked like the incarnation of a noble swordsman of the eighteenth century. Even knowing what to expect, Ezequiel widened his eyes and said, laughing:

"It's Magnificent indeed, much better." He laughed again. "With these clothes and that blond beard, you even look like a Nordic prince of the past, son. If your girl saw you like this, she would drool all over."

More seriously, he continued:

"Be proud of who you are and of that cape, Igor. Please, don't hide it anymore."

"I promise, Ezequiel. Where are we going?" the young man asked, trying to ignore the comment about Eduarda. "I still feel too weak to open a portal and much less for more intense training."

"One more will not weigh on Saci." The wise man pointed to the dog, smiling. "Ready, my friend? Return to your form."

Even having seen it twice, Igor was amazed by the incredible metamorphosis of a dog, huge indeed, into a gigantic dragon of about twenty meters. When it was over, Saci turned his neck to both of them.

"You can mount." he said. "I hope you are comfortable."

"But where are we going?" he asked again.

"We are going to the world of dragons, on the eighth plane," Ezequiel replied. "Just get ready that it will take us about five days to get there."

"Five?!" Igor was amazed. "Why?"

"Dragons do not make more than one jump and, also, do not pass more than one plane at a time. They need some time to recover after opening a portal. Much more than us."