{"sf1_id":831686,"sf2_id":null,"title":"The Mage and the Blacksmith","author":"Killick","words":2267,"posted_at":"2015-03-17T11:50:00.000Z","tags":["Adventure","Dog","Fantasy","Mage","Wraith","ghost","journey","wizard"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/831686-the-mage-and-the-blacksmith","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/831686","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=831686\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"A fresh-faced and enthusiastic young wizard begins his journey to a new town. But the road is not as peaceful as one would hope...\nThis story is very much a work in progress, but I just wanted to put the first chapter out there and see what people think.\nI welcome and greatly appreciate any thoughts, suggestions or criticisms.","content":"Killick could not suppress his intense smile as he exited the northern\ngates of the capital.  The blue and grey furred dog had recently been\npromoted from an apprentice mage to a journeyman, and had been assigned by the\nArch-mage to travel to the cold town of Tunorda to assist the Mages guild\nthere.  He was overjoyed at his mission: research into how to better define\nthe mysticism school of magic.  Mysticism was a specialty of Killick's,\nand he could not wait to prove his talents and knowledge to his new tutors.\n His feet crunched on the loose gravel of the northward road, and he\nsavoured the happy memories of his last few days at the Arcane University.\n Receiving a simple letter informing him of his honourable advancement.\n The Arch-mage complimenting him personally on his remarkable essay on the\nsubtle differences between magically induced remote manipulation, and true telekinesis.\n His master presenting him with the green quilted robes of his new rank\nand ceremonial silver dagger. In reality his time at the university had been nothing special or out of\nthe ordinary.  He had studied the various forms of magic, just as his\npeers did, some of them excelling where he had not.  But it was still a\nmoment of great pride for him.  The young dog adjusted the straps of his backpack and sighed in\ncontentment as the immense white walls of the city disappeared behind him, and\nlush green forest opened up before him.  He did not expect his two day\njourney north to be anything but uneventful and pleasant.  He thought that\nhis light hooded travelling cloak would protect him, and the silver dagger\nwrapped safely at the bottom of his pack would never be needed.  He would\nbe wrong on all counts.The rain started early on his second day.  It poured in sheets that\nhad him completely drenched within seconds.  It matted his fur and ran\nthrough his eyes and nose, making him cough and splutter.  Sleeping had\nbeen near impossible; years of bedding on a soft mattress had done nothing to\nprepare him for camping in the open wild.  He drew his cloak tighter\naround him in an effort to stave off the chilly wind that whipped through him.\n Tired, angry and depressed at his situation, Killick marched on, figuring\nthat the quicker he got to Tunorda the quicker he could change clothes and have\na hot bath.Despite his waterlogged vision he somehow spied what looked like a cave\nat the base of an outcropping of rock.  Grinning vaguely at his luck, the\njourneyman mage ran to the possible shelter.  He shook the water from his\nhead and attempted to wring parts of his cloak and robes dry, but smiled wryly\nas he realised this was not just futile but impossible.  Instead, he\nclosed his eyes and concentrated on incanting a spell of fire.  A small\nflame burst in the palm of his hand which he placed carefully on a piece of the\ndriest wood he could find.  The now dimly lit cave was small and damp.\n Killick cringed as he felt a cold splash run down his neck, dripped from\nthe mossy ceiling.  He sat back and pulled his ruined cloak around his\nsmallish frame, and sulkily covered his eyes with the drenched hood. The fire flickered pathetically against his half hidden face.  The\nspell was mainly for warmth but, by the light of the magical fire, Killick\nnoticed the cave led further underground than he first thought.  As a\ntypical mage, he was intensely curious to what may lay further in.  But\nalso, as a typical mage, the aching of his shivering body after such a long and\ncold hike pleaded him to just lay and sleep, be lazy for a while.  With\nyouth on his side, Killick pushed himself to his feet and peered into the\ndarkness of the cave.Perhaps the tunnel would lead him closer to Tunorda?  Smiling for\nthe first time that day, Killick carefully scooped up the magical fire in one\nhand and tiptoed into the cave.Slow minutes past, but nothing in the cave so far caught the interest of\nthe exploring mage.  Palm of fire held high, the blue-furred dog\nscrutinised the stone tunnel with a keen eye and a small amount of optimistic\nhope.  He had heard rumours, during his studies at the university, that\nbandits often hid great treasures of gold and magical artefacts in caves such\nas this, treasures that would never be recovered.  Usually because the\nbandit who buried them would be arrested, or murdered by other bandits.\n Maybe such a treasure awaited his discovery?  His tail wagged in a\nnewfound excitement and an adventurous grin spread across his face.The cold and wet forgotten, the young dog pushed forwards through the\ndarkness, his green eyes constantly searching for something that didn't quite\nbelong.  Halfway down a narrow stone corridor, he stopped and stared.\n What was that creature up ahead?  A grime covered rodent looked up\nfrom its meal of... grime covered rodent, and stared at Killick.  Was that\na rat?  Killick's stomach heaved.  It was three times the size of the\ncity rats he was used to.  Surely it was a different breed.  Whatever\nit was, it stared at the clean mage in an almost disgusted manner, like it was\noffended that something so clean and pure had interrupted its disease ridden\nmeal.Killick took a frightened step backwards when the monster rat snarled.\n He started to shake when he remembered that rats are not supposed to\nsnarl.  The rat lunged and Killick stumbled backwards.  In his panic\nhe threw the handful of flame he carried.  He missed so completely, the\ndrooling rodent didn't even notice the fire splutter harmlessly against the stone\nwall. Blinded by darkness, the mage tripped and stumbled his way through the\ntunnels, fear numbing the pain of bumps and scrapes against the cold rock.\n He knew he was lost, had run the wrong way; he should have reached the\nentrance by now.  But he kept running.  He could not have known the\nrat had given up the chase shortly after its attack.A sharp pain shot up his ankle and Killick pitched forward at such a\nspeed his jaw cracked flat against the moss covered floor.  Groaning, the\nwizard rolled onto his back and peered around.  The faint glow of\nluminescent green moss showed him the walls of a small, round cavern.  He\nscrunched his eyes up in pain, exhaustion and personal embarrassment.  A\nfully initiated Journeyman Mage, and he had run away from a rat.  What\nwould his old instructor think if he saw him lying like this in a filthy cave,\ndefeated by a mere rodent?Killick softened the muscles in his face, then opened his eyes to face\nhis situation like an intelligent and respectable mage.  But what he saw\nhovering at the other end of the cavern chilled his soul so completely that his\nblood practically crystallised with fear and dread.Wisps of torn rags and dirty grey silks floated and flowed together,\ngiving off a glow that emanated a sickly sense of cold.  The thin rags,\nalmost transparent, formed the shape of hooded cloak that ended at the torso.\n No body could be seen where the cloak ended in ragged strips that curled\naround each other, but Killick could spy a grey, clawed hand, shrunken and\nthin, skin stretched tight over bony fingers that constantly grasped at the air\nin a gentle yet sinister motion.  It was a wraith.  The spectre\nhovered over a mouldy skeleton, a rusted dagger jammed into its skull.Killick lay frozen in place, trembling in fear, and merely stared.\n The head of the wraith, despite hidden by a ghostly cowl, seemed to sense\nthe terror that must have risen from the terrified mage like a stink.  It\nturned to look at the living body that lay on the floor of its cave, its face a\nhorrible contortion of pain and rage.  A tear rolled down Killick's face\nas the spirit screamed.  As the mournful cry ended, the wraith drew back\nits glowing hand and hurled a bolt of freezing energy.  His body suddenly\npushed by survival, Killick rolled out of the way of the ice spell and\nscrambled to his feet.  The wraith floated towards him excruciatingly\nslow, moaning its dreadful cry.  His back against stone, Killick forced\nhis brain to focus and remember a fire spell.  He tried to condense heat\ninto his paw, but a few pathetic embers sparking from his fingertips was the\nonly result.  He had never paid much attention to the destruction school\nof magic, viewing it as crude and unrefined.  He quickly tried to think of\na spell he knew well, but none that would be helpful came to mind.  All he\ncould think of was a detect life spell; hardly a fearsome attack plan.\n Cursing at the uselessness of the mysticism school of magic, he pushed\noff the wall and ran back down the tunnel just as he felt another bolt of cold\nexplode behind him.Fear pushed him forward and worked his legs; it pumped blood through his\nheart at such a rate that he thought his would burst.  Another explosion\nof deadly ice.  Fear pushed strange chemicals into his brain and made the\nmost obscure memories surface: the coronation of the new King, a boring study\nhall, the name of a street next to the street he grew up, the silver necklace\nhis mother used to always wear.Silver...Killick yelped in realisation and swung his backpack off him as he\nskidded to a halt.  He rummaged through the canvas bag, tossing out\nscrolls, spare clothes, biscuits, quills, money and books.  He reached to\nthe bottom of the bag and desperately searched.  His fingers touched\nsomething cold and hard and he knew that he had found it.  He pulled out\nhis ceremonial silver dagger in triumph.  He had learnt, as all mages do,\nthat ghosts, demons and other creatures not of this plane are weak to silver.\n A new spark of courage glinted in his eye and he turned to face his undead\nattacker.  The wraith floated around a bend in the tunnel, coming\ndangerously close to Killick, its needle like fingers constantly grasping at\nempty air.  It lay sunken eyes on its prey and a deadly shimmering ball\nstarted to form in its hand.  But before it could hurl the sphere, Killick\nthrust forward with all his strength, and plunged the dagger to the hilt just\nbelow the wraiths neck.  The creature howled in pain and a silvery mist\npoured from the wound.  Killick stood back and panted, admiring his own resourcefulness\nand bravery.  But the wraith didn't die.  It didn't turn and flee.\n It screamed in agony, and as it screamed it reached down with one bony\nhand and slowly pulled the silver dagger from its chest.  Killick's face\nfell from triumph to panic to utmost terror as the ghost pulled out the dagger\nand slashed forward with it.  The dog turned and ran, the creature\nscreaming after him.  Tears flowed from his eyes as he crashed into walls,\nstumbled over rocks, and pushed himself through the darkness of the caves, wondering\njust how lost he was and if he would ever find his way out.  He realised he could see a faint light.  He ran as fast he could\ntowards it, legs and chest burning.  The light grew larger and stronger,\nuntil he could see the trees that grew outside the cave.  Killick burst\nthrough into the soft light, and fell gasping onto the cold, hard ground.\n It was no longer raining, but soft flakes of white fell upon him instead.\n Just how far north had the tunnels taken him?  With a fearful glance\nhe looked back at the cave.  The wraith was nowhere to be seen.  An\nenormous sigh escaped the dog as he relaxed for the first time in what felt\nlike days.  He just lay there for a while, letting the snow land softly on\nhis face, cooling him.  A few minutes went by and Killick forced himself\nto sit up when he realised he was shivering.  He reached for his pack to\ngrab his...A stream of screamed profanities poured from his muzzle as realised his\nstupidity.  But a far off boom of thunder cut him off and made him\napologise to each of the nine Gods in turn for his blasphemies.  He stood\nup straight and took a deep breath.  Knowing that he had lost all his\nworldly possessions; all his clothes, money, his precious books; made it\ndifficult for Killick to stay calm.  But he knew that he had to keep going\nand reach the city of Tunorda.  There was only so much sun left in the\ncloudy sky, and he did not fancy freezing to death in the cold night.  The\nmage faced himself north, and started walking.  Barely ten minutes past before he literally walked into a waist high,\nwooden fence.  The thin slats of wood were old and rotten, but Killick was\nthankful for any sign of civilisation.  He followed the fence line to a\nfarmhouse, with bright red snowberries growing in wild patches around the\nwalls.  From there he found a road.  It was a well traveled road with\ndeep wagon wheel ruts that led directly north.  The two guards that stood at Tunorda's southern gate were both shocked\nand cautious when a ragged figure in filthy and torn robes staggered towards\nthem.  Killick practically fell to his knees before them, and mumbled at\nthem in a daze.\"Which way to the Mage's Guild?\""}