The First Spell

Trial of Strength

Grimain left his horse and escort at the edge of the forest, and for the past five hours, he had been trudging through knee-high snow. Every now and then, a layer of cold fluff would fall from the snow-laden branches, landing on the wizard's head with force, prompting a string of curses. On the snow-covered forest path, tracks of countless four-legged creatures crisscrossed. An almost absolute silence reigned in the frosty woods, disturbed only by the creaking of the snow under Grimain's boots. He had his plan of action ready. He would present Zeberathus' army like a platter, to be emptied by the Last Prince's troops. However, it would still take about two more days to reach the marching Zariathan. Suddenly, he heard the snort of a horse. He stared apprehensively at a nearby bend in the path. Soon, he heard the murmur of conversations, and the first riders in black chainmail emerged from behind the trees. Seeing Grimain, they spurred their horses and approached the mage with their hands on their sword hilts.

Grimain stopped and waited for the soldiers to get closer.

„Praise Morath, the greatest among mages!" he threw out the usual greeting. „I am Grimain, lead me to Zeberathus!"

The sergeant leading the group looked at him closely.

„Praise Morath, the master of war!" he replied slowly. „I heard that Mage Grimain flew on a maghor. If you claim to be him, how do you explain that?"

„My maghor was riddled with arrows like a hedgehog," the wizard treated the Zariathan to a prepared tale. „It went hunting while I observed the camp."

„The camp?" the sergeant inquired.

„Bandits set up a camp five miles west of Infraad," Grimain responded, pleased with the change of topic. „Morale is low, they're sick and hungry."

„What fools set up a camp at the base of the mountains in the middle of winter?" the Zariathan laughed.

„They're quartered in decent dugouts," the dark-skinned mage noticed a flaw in his plan. „They must have set it up in the fall. They even fortified it a little... with snow!"

The group of Zariathans burst into laughter.

„So maybe they think we want to throw snowballs at them?" one of them asked, prompting another wave of hilarity.

„I always said these Marlothians can't fight," declared the sergeant. „How many of them are there?"

Grimain looked at him coldly. In the Zariathan army, a mage didn't explain himself to anyone below a captain.

„Of course, you don't have to say anything, sir," the sergeant realized his blunder. „It's just..."

„You'll find out everything in a few hours anyway," Grimain cut him off. „Will someone give me a ride, or should I walk to Zeberathus?"

The sergeant moved closer and extended a hand, helping the mage climb up behind the saddle.

„Zeberathus is two days' journey behind us."

„So, how did you get here?" asked a surprised Grimain.

„He sent the cavalry ahead under colonel Kintaad's command. Our mission is to defeat any hostile forces so that the infantry can easily conquer the cities."

„That's why I ran into them two days early!" Grimain thought, adding aloud, „Very clever. Now that you know where the core of the rebel army is, you can save time on searching."

„I must take you to the colonel, sir," the sergeant declared. „The commander must hear this important news!"

„And I must report to Zeberathus!" Grimain objected, not at all eager to converse with Kintaad. „I can't waste time forever; I'm already several days late! The dark wizard will be furious when he learns I didn't go straight to headquarters. You know his fits of rage, don't you, sergeant? He recently killed a servant when he received bad news! Besides, if you deliver the good news to the colonel yourself, he might remember you. That could be useful for a promotion."