the fundamental forces of the Universe.
This is where the trouble starts.
–– Nicodemus Limnic, An Honest History of the Wizard’s Craft, Introduction
CHAPTER SEVEN
SILVERWOOD HALL
Trees.
Everywhere around him, tall trees, old trees, young trees, broken trees. Early morning fog slipped lazily around the tall oaks that surrounded him and the hill behind him. The air was sweet with the smell of a recent rain. Sunlight broke through the branches overhead, coating the forest floor in bright yellows and oranges. Dawn had already been here for some time, where back at the riverfront it was only just arriving. Realization hit Simon. He was very far from where he had been just a moment ago.
The Gate had been a rush of sensation. The ground under his feet had fallen away for an instant, and he had jerked when it happened, expecting to plummet. A blur of colors rushed past his eyes, and then his feet had crunched down on the forest floor a moment later, the morning air stinging his face. It had all come and gone in a heartbeat, yet it left him shaken. The rush of the movement faded, and his bearings slowly limped back to him. He recognized that he was in a forest. Beyond that, nothing else.
The noises of the forest crept in around him, a few insects buzzed quietly and the birds overhead occasionally chirped. Without knowing why, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and all the air around him seemed to hum with some unspoken quality.
“I would move if I were you,” said a rough voice behind him. Simon froze. He did not recognize the voice, but it was deeper and rougher than Nathan’s. He closed his eyes, and the buzzing in the air died off. He tried to count to ten. Maybe it had been his imagination. Maybe it was Nathan, or nobody at all, just his mind playing tricks on him. “No use pretending you’re not there,” said the rough voice, this time off to Simon’s left. “The oaks know you’re here, so save your jabberings. It’ll do you no good where you’re standing.”
A large man dressed in animal skins and gripping a very large wooden staff stepped into Simon’s view. His head was draped in a large-brimmed hat, big enough for the brim to droop down until it almost covered his gray eyes, which thundered like tiny storm clouds. A long, green feather hung lazily from the brim. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a bonding-sigil under your feet,” he said. Simon glanced down. He stood on a rough stone platform with strange lines and letters carved into it. The man smiled broadly. “In case you’re wondering just how that seal happened be right under where you’re standing, that’s because we don’t do well to suffer trespassers near our home.”
The man swept in close to Simon. Simon wished he could step back through the gateway, but it had long vanished. Still, he stepped backwards, off the stone platform and into the leaves, his feet crunching as he backed away.
The man continued towards him, his hand outstretched as if to beckon Simon closer. Simon continued to back away until he bumped up against something. Something large. He reached around blindly to feel for an opening, but his fingers grabbed thick, soft fur.
“Keep him right there, Grisly. Sterling will want to know about this one.” Simon looked over his shoulder. A very large and very gray bear laid on the ground behind him, its big, questioning eyes focused on Simon.
Simon struggled against the urge to run. Every bone in his body screamed to break into a sprint, to try to put as much distance between him and the bear and the strange man he took for its master, but fear held him in place. There was no outrunning a beast this large, even though at the moment it looked content to remain lying on its sunny spot among the trees.
The man was at arm’s length from Simon when a small pop rippled through the air. Simon felt like his heart might burst at the sight of Nathan appearing a few
This is where the trouble starts.
–– Nicodemus Limnic, An Honest History of the Wizard’s Craft, Introduction
CHAPTER SEVEN
SILVERWOOD HALL
Trees.
Everywhere around him, tall trees, old trees, young trees, broken trees. Early morning fog slipped lazily around the tall oaks that surrounded him and the hill behind him. The air was sweet with the smell of a recent rain. Sunlight broke through the branches overhead, coating the forest floor in bright yellows and oranges. Dawn had already been here for some time, where back at the riverfront it was only just arriving. Realization hit Simon. He was very far from where he had been just a moment ago.
The Gate had been a rush of sensation. The ground under his feet had fallen away for an instant, and he had jerked when it happened, expecting to plummet. A blur of colors rushed past his eyes, and then his feet had crunched down on the forest floor a moment later, the morning air stinging his face. It had all come and gone in a heartbeat, yet it left him shaken. The rush of the movement faded, and his bearings slowly limped back to him. He recognized that he was in a forest. Beyond that, nothing else.
The noises of the forest crept in around him, a few insects buzzed quietly and the birds overhead occasionally chirped. Without knowing why, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and all the air around him seemed to hum with some unspoken quality.
“I would move if I were you,” said a rough voice behind him. Simon froze. He did not recognize the voice, but it was deeper and rougher than Nathan’s. He closed his eyes, and the buzzing in the air died off. He tried to count to ten. Maybe it had been his imagination. Maybe it was Nathan, or nobody at all, just his mind playing tricks on him. “No use pretending you’re not there,” said the rough voice, this time off to Simon’s left. “The oaks know you’re here, so save your jabberings. It’ll do you no good where you’re standing.”
A large man dressed in animal skins and gripping a very large wooden staff stepped into Simon’s view. His head was draped in a large-brimmed hat, big enough for the brim to droop down until it almost covered his gray eyes, which thundered like tiny storm clouds. A long, green feather hung lazily from the brim. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a bonding-sigil under your feet,” he said. Simon glanced down. He stood on a rough stone platform with strange lines and letters carved into it. The man smiled broadly. “In case you’re wondering just how that seal happened be right under where you’re standing, that’s because we don’t do well to suffer trespassers near our home.”
The man swept in close to Simon. Simon wished he could step back through the gateway, but it had long vanished. Still, he stepped backwards, off the stone platform and into the leaves, his feet crunching as he backed away.
The man continued towards him, his hand outstretched as if to beckon Simon closer. Simon continued to back away until he bumped up against something. Something large. He reached around blindly to feel for an opening, but his fingers grabbed thick, soft fur.
“Keep him right there, Grisly. Sterling will want to know about this one.” Simon looked over his shoulder. A very large and very gray bear laid on the ground behind him, its big, questioning eyes focused on Simon.
Simon struggled against the urge to run. Every bone in his body screamed to break into a sprint, to try to put as much distance between him and the bear and the strange man he took for its master, but fear held him in place. There was no outrunning a beast this large, even though at the moment it looked content to remain lying on its sunny spot among the trees.
The man was at arm’s length from Simon when a small pop rippled through the air. Simon felt like his heart might burst at the sight of Nathan appearing a few
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