The Sorcerer's Tome

Chapter 7: The Quest Begins

As the early morning sun began to peep over the trees to the east and gingerly feel its way into the cold blue sky, Tom and Garren stepped out from the warmth of the little cottage, into the Christmas card scene of undisturbed snow.

"Jees that's cold," Tom gasped as the powdery snow found its way to his exposed toes through his sandals.

"You are not moaning about your cold feet again, are you?" asked Garren, turning the big black key in the door.

"It's all right for you, you have those boot things," Tom complained, pointing at the large fur-lined boots Garren wore. They appeared to be made of some thick-skinned animal that had been turned inside out.

"I only have one pair, and anyway, they did not fit you. You have extraordinarily large feet for a person your size."

"There's nothing wrong with my feet," said Tom defensively, "except that they are bloomin' cold."

"Let us walk quickly then, to warm them a little," Garren suggested, heaving his duffel over his shoulder and striding briskly off through the crisp snow. Tom shouldered his own pack and followed.

The pair took the same route they had taken the previous day which led them into the heart of the village, past Rita's perpetual summertime cottage. In the witch's garden, a light morning dew lay on the many-coloured petals unfurling to greet the warm day. In the little square, the tavern occupied one side with shops on the adjacent sides. Opposite stood the town hall which served as council chambers, administrative centre, theatre and where the Women's Institute met every Wednesday afternoon (half-day closing).

Unlike the previous evening, the square itself was far from empty. Even at this early hour, the street traders were busy setting up their stalls selling a variety of items from fruit and veg to baskets and bags. The curfew meant the street vendors lost a whole hour's trading, so everywhere they were rushing about setting up their stalls as quickly as possible to make up for lost time. All this hustle and bustle went on under the watchful gaze of the shiny new bronze statue of a man, standing high on a pedestal with fatherly arms outstretched in welcome. A polished brass plaque on the base said in bold letters:

His Excellency the Great Count Balfour

Defender of Magic

Much to the residents' annoyance, this new addition to the square replaced a rather lovely fountain that cascaded water from the mouth of Illemborn, the Great Dragon, into a pond full of brightly coloured Choral Fish. The brightly coloured fish would come to the surface and sing a haunting melody for anyone who would feed them. They literally sang for their supper.

Garren led the way to one of the stalls, in front of which a large metal brazier blazed away, radiating its warmth to the bench that encircled it. Stools surrounded the bench, two of which were already occupied. Lyca and Dan were sitting warming themselves by the fire. They both had steaming goblets and wooden dishes in front of them.

"Time for some breakfast, I think," said Garren, nodding to their waiting companions. "Do you like hog?"

"Er, yeah I guess so," said Tom revelling in the wonderful smells coming from the stall.

"Good morning," said Garren to the dwarf, whose eyes could be seen peering over the wheeled cart that served as his stall. "Two hog rolls and two goblets of spiced mead, please."

"You want the hog cooked?" asked the dwarf in a squeaky voice. Tom thought that a strange question.

"Yes please," replied Garren without hesitation.