"...and so Trimus son of Amerie and Claude I present you with this staff and grimoire as a sign of your achievements over the last six years." Master Terai on unsteady legs from his throne and gives a large leather bound volume and an iron shod blackwood staff to the younger man kneeling in front of him.
A ripple of applause came from the seated magi seated behind Trimus in the small chamber reserved for such ceremonies. Trimus rose and held the staff above his head in a salute to those that had gone before him and in salute to those that were to come. Terai smiled silently, he had seen that gesture before, many times.
Later after Trimus had returned to his cell to pack his few belongings there was a quiet knock on his door and a blond head peered into the room.
"So where are you going tomorrow Trimus? Back to Sulesco?"
"No Dhugal" sighed Trimus signalling the younger apprentice to enter at sit on the bench by the window. "I intend to travel to Honour Island and seek training with the mages there"
"Honour Island. In Ierendi - but don't they have a reputation for being rather stern and aloof - Master Elroy says.."
"Master Elroy knows nothing Dhugal. He hasn't been outside the school since he was 20 and Kronos only knows how long ago that was. Any way I leave tomorrow for Tothmere in the Five Shires and thence to Ierendi."
"Good luck Trimus" said Dhugal earnestly, "I think you'll need it."
The day dawned bright and clear as Trimus left the lodging house in Tothmere for a walk to the dockside. The brightly decorated houses with their tidy flower beds and window boxes line the clean but twisty streets. Trimus squinted at the map he had been given and stuffed it in his pouch and decided that he might as well guess which way to go, Halfling maps being almost as unreliable as the Halflings themselves.
Within half an hour Trimus had realised that something was wrong. The tidy streets and gardens had given way to dilapidated shacks and piles of rubbish. Cursing loudly to himself Trimus turned to retrace his steps but was stopped by strange sounds emanating from a particularly noxious heap.
"Who's there!" stammered Trimus whipping out his staff.
"Urrghh" repeated the rubbish.
"I warn you foul fiend I am a mighty lore weaver!" boasted Trimus while he fought to remember what creature this could be.
"Oh futtucks!" swore a short stocky figure, dripping cabbage leaves, "Your barely able to shave let alone use that staff!"
"And who, or what, are you?" replied Trimus barely concealing a smile.
"I am, young lore master, Grabthroat Shinkicker of the Syrklist Clan" said what now appeared to be a dwarf bowing with an exaggerated flourish.
"And I am Trimus D'Alberon - neophyte mage" replied Trimus.
"Pleased to meet you Trimus" grinned the dwarf and he extended a slimy hand which he hastily wiped on his jerkin after he saw Trimus grimace.
Later that evening, over an ale in the First Star tavern Grabthroat finished the tale of his fall from grace.
"So the dammed Halflings dumped me head first into their midden!"
"Well if you do insult a Halfling chef what do you expect them to do - especially as you had nothing to pay for your meal."
"Humph! I suppose you're right, if only those orcs hadn't stolen my kit in the Radleb Woods everything would have been all right. How am I ever going to make my fortune now?" Grabthroat sighed morosely into his stein.
"Look. Why don't you come with me to Ierendi. I'll loan you some money for passage and kit - I could do with some company."
"Trimus - you are a true friend and we dwarves don't make friends easily." said Grabthroat suddenly much brighter, "Barkeep! Another ale for the youngster and a measure of your best Whitestill for me. Aaah it's going to be a great night!" Back to my home page. Back to the story's contents page The Next Chapter
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