Hidden Magic

Chapter 5

Phillip wandered through the treeline in a stupor, leaning heavily on his new quarterstaff as he pushed through the undergrowth. The briars and thorn bushes snagged and ripped the hem of his robe, but he hardly noticed this, so preoccupied by a memory he could not erase. His master had given up the illusion magic he'd excelled at and abandoned it in favor of necromancy, the magic an illusionist normally could not use any more than a snake could use a boot. And what the once-illusionist had done with it... he shuddered from the memory of the skeletons created when his master looted a cemetery. He'd tried to convince his master not to do this, but Phillip had been so frightened and horrified that he'd ended up hiding when those pleas were ignored, invoking more anger when his master realized his assistant was not there. The only thing going for the young wizard at that point was that the old man had been too preoccupied with his newly created servants to give much attention to the person he was supposed to be training.

His master had been getting progressively more and more disturbing and this was the last straw; grabbing what he could carry, Phillip fled. In hindsight, he should have left as soon as his master had begun slipping down that slope towards horrifying, but Phillip had held out so that he could become a master wizard in his own right-- not that it had become possible in the end. By that point his master was only casting magic Phillip either could not or would not do. Caught not quite at the status of full illusionist, but no longer truly an apprentice either, Phillip fled, taking time only to grab the amulet he'd recovered for his master years before. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't trust it in the hands of the warped old man. He vaguely hoped that it could aid him in some way, possibly to fill in for the training he still lacked. Who would take in a mostly-trained twenty-six year old apprentice, anyway? That was why he hadn't left Bluecoast sooner: he'd had no idea of where to go.

He glanced down at the ash staff in his hands. It was a gift sent from his father, a skilled woodworker who knew nothing of magic but was aware that most wizards carried staves. He also knew that his son's favorite hobby was astronomy, or something with stars, anyway. That had always been a bit over his father's head, but he had apparently caught on enough to know that it would be a good theme for a wizard's staff. The intricate stellar carvings in the wood had sent a wave of sudden homesickness over Phillip. Home may not give him the new master he sought or the end to his training, but it was at least a destination.

So he'd left the coast behind and headed west in a long trek back to his homeland, slowed by the constant need to look over his shoulder to check for the monsters that filled his mind and his nightmares. He made it two-thirds of the way home when this pensiveness left him lost. He thought he was following a trail through sparse woodland but now there was no sign of it.

Turning slowly in a small circle to try to get a bearing of which way north lay, the ground under his feet shifted and dropped him into a pit. As he tried to push himself to his feet, his ankle twisted and left him seeing stars. Trying to keep from blacking out, he used the staff to support his weight so he could survey the hole which he was beginning to suspect was actually a trap. The evenness of the dirt walls validated this assumption and the arrow drawn and aimed down from above the pit proved it.

He raised the hand not clutching the staff in surrender. He had begun to wonder if he could fire off any sort of spell without losing his balance when the figure said, "It's you again?"

He recognized that voice and now very much wished he had a way to get out of here.

Grimacing at the pain that shot up his leg, he limped backwards until his back hit the dirt wall. Of all the elf traps he could have fallen into, it was the one she was guarding. At least this particular elf wasn't likely to actually fire at him-- or so he hoped. Perhaps it would be wise for him to duck.