Wizich Trilogy : Gwen : Chapter 1 - Taurus

In the Beginning …

Taurus ran down the road. His boots stuck in the mud churned up by carts. A clash of thunder rattles the mountains on the horizon. The wind tugged at his cloak, revealing the colourful clothes beneath. The wizard hastily covered them up, here was witch country. His wizardry was marked not only by the staff of gnarled wood, engraved deeply with runes, and colourful robes, but also the rain stopped a foot above his head and burnt up. He could see the village where he had planned to spend the night, but it lay across a flooded ford. He stared down into the fast flowing water; Taurus thought of evaporating the water away but decided against it. He was tired and if the spell gave up half way across the river he hated to think what would happen. Taurus starred up into the rising moon. He was tired and stressed. Despite his pride of being a wizard, sometimes he just wished he’d found a nice quiet job. Maybe some where nice with lots of repetitive work. A clerk in the factories possibly? The new ventures where always looking for some one willing to do dull jobs. He sighed while he dreamed of a perfect job but stopped when a strange feeling came over him.
It felt like eyes boring into the back of his neck. His skin came up in goose pimples and he clutched his staff harder. He spun round ready to confront the person. There was no one there. Just a large empty field. He was suddenly very conscious that he was a wizard in a large open space potentially full of witches. There was no way he would stay out on a night like this. Especially if there where spies around. Before he went any where Taurus gave a complicated little gesture with his hand and the rain stopped burning and began to fall on him. He then gave a slightly simpler gesture, containing only two fingers, towards the sky. He muttered angrily under his breath and stamped the ground a few times in frustration. After a few minutes thought, he turned round and headed off towards a cottage he had passed on the way there. No one saw him as he struggled through the wind; everybody was snuggled to a warm and cosy fire in Oakley, except one.

As she stirred the contents of her pot, a streamer of purple smoke came out of the bubbling green liquid. A face seemed to appear on the oily scum; a young one, the sort that couldn’t wear a proper beard. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the face melted away and was seen no more. Hilta smiled to herself, this wizard would be worth something to Dora. She shifted as she waited for the knock of the next victim, coming like a fly to the spiders’ web. Three knocks landed on Hiltas’ door. She gradually unfolded herself, with much protest from creaking limbs, and went to the door. She opened it slowly. There stood Taurus. His cloak was drenched through and his boots where caked in mud. “Go away,” Hilta growled, slamming the door in his face. Then she came over all embarrassed. She hated it when she lashed out at people like that. Hilta breathed in and counted to ten. She opened the door again. Taurus was standing there still, hand raised to knock on the door, which was no longer there. Instead of closing the door, Hilta asked him in slightly friendlier tones: “What do you want?”, ‘I need some where to stay, because the ford is flooded[##]’ said a voice in her head.
“I need somewhere to stay,” Taurus explained, “The village is a long way off and the crossing has been swamped.” He was a little unsure how many times he had just said that sentence; it was like someone was reading the words out of his head. He starred up into her black eyes and waited for her to reply. He regretted knocking on her door now but it would be rude to turn away.
“Really,” it came in a tone which suggested she’d known all along. She weighed up her choices for a moment before making a decision. “Come in, I’ve got a spare room upstairs. I have only one rule: don’t touch anything. And take those boots off. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.” Taurus dutifully took of his boots. He was slightly confused by the actions of the old lady. One minute it seemed she wouldn’t have yielded to his request for one moment and the next she was ushering him in. It was like being with two people instead of one.
As he entered he took a moment to take in his surroundings. The room he was in was packed. Every inch of space was crammed with books or bottles. It gave the impression that the inside of her house was bigger than the outside. “Why are you on your way to Oakley?” asked Hilta.
“Official Government business,” he said to try and dismiss the subject. He continued to try and take in the room but he look on the old woman’s face was rather disconcerting, as if his explanation wasn’t enough. “It’s to do with the siege by the witches on our perfect city, Gosma,” he paused but she seemed to drag the words out of him. “We wizards are being ruthlessly picked of by those crones. I’m taking a top-secret message to the wizards of Birchton. I was planning to stop for the night at Oakley, but it seems like I’ll have to stay here. At first light I’m going to travel over to Birchton then going with the wizards from there to Elmsford and over the ridge to base A.” A voice in his head urged him on, “That’s where we keep our boats. We have settlements at B. We have to evacuate the senior wizards within a month of the full moon as intelligence has told us that the witches have something big planned.” The wizard stopped. His eyes widened in shock. “Oh no. Please tell me I’ve said nothing. I’m doomed.” He buried his face in his hands and moaned. He’d have to kill the old lady.
“I’m sorry, love, but I was distracted. What did you say? Something to do with Gosma?”
“Oh Nothing, nothing at all.” A relieved smile came over his tangled beard.

Hilta gestured to him. “Come on then, don’t just stand in the door way. I’m sure you’ll want to be getting to your room,” she said. Taurus followed slowly, in a dream like state, as he tried to take in the room. The eerie light of the fire threw the oddly shaped bottles and boxes into sharp relief. Glancing at the shelf he saw only a simple collection of herbs and leaves preserved in oil.
As he looked closer though, he saw that some of the bottles were very unusual indeed. Most of the labels where written in strange script and had very strange contents. One large glass bottle contained a number of ancient looking creatures swimming around. “Interesting fish you keep,” Taurus’s voice had gone incredibly high as one of the creatures opened its huge razor filled mouth. Hilta ignored him.
“Hurry up, I have work to do. Your room’s through here.” Taurus carefully edged his way towards the door Hilta was standing by. As he walked the glimmer in the cauldron caught his eye. It was an odd cauldron, anyway; old, hand-wrought iron, unlike the new factory-made ones. Rather than soup or stew, the substance bubbling in it seemed almost green. Taurus caught glimpses of his own face, twisted in anger, and a bottle smashed on the floor of-
“Come on,” Hilta said sharply, moving between him and the cauldron. “You must be tired.”
“But the Cauldron it had my face in it.” Hilta looked back at the cauldron and gave it a quick kick. “Defiantly nothing there.” Taurus leaned round Hilta to look into the cauldron, nothing but a stew bubbling away. “You’re right, I must be tired.”
Hilta gave him a quick push into the recess behind the door. In the middle of the cupboard was a ladder leading up to the roof. As he climbed up, a sudden jolt made him slip. Naturally he grabbed for a handrail, which of course you only get on stairs, this brings up the question of why he happened to be holding one. “Keep moving. Haven’t you ever climbed stairs before?” Taurus breathed in deeply. “I’m just very tired,” he said to himself. The loft room was low with slopping sides and empty except for a simple straw mattress bed. The slanted roof had no plaster so a draft came through the thatch. There was an eldritch light that came from nowhere. Taurus looked up into Hilta’ face. Her features were tough and weather beaten. Power glistened in her eyes. He sat down on the bed and prepared to ask the dreaded question. “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”
“And what if I am?” A smile came across her face, sly and menacing. Taurus gulped.
“You’ll probably try to turn me into a frog,” said Taurus, sounding very worried.
“I’ve got more imagination than that,” said Hilta looking genuinely hurt by the idea.
Witches and wizards had never got on very well. The two different disciplines of magic where on opposite ends of the spectrum. Witchcraft had always been about healing and nature while wizardry was about the twisting of the universe and consulting with demons. As time went on the two groups collapsed into warring factions. The wizards defending Gosma while the witches picked off wanderers.
Before Taurus could even think of escaping Hilta slammed the trapdoor and locked it. She slipped the key into her pocket. She left the stairs and went back to her potion. With a quick wave of her hand it returned to its natural state.
Taurus stood up and promptly fell back onto the bed. A nauseating smell filled the room. He tried to get up again but could barely keep his eyes open. The smell was relaxing and herbal and soon he fell into a deep sleep.

Taurus opened his eyes drowsily. Rays of light forced their way through the thatch. He raised a hand to rub his aching head but found he was tied down. Ropes bound him tightly to the legs of the bed. Memories of the night before flooded back. Taurus tried to wriggle free. If he could reach his wand he might be able to get out of the witches house alive.
There was the sound of a key in a lock followed by the creak of hinges and pad of foot steps. Hilta rose through the trapdoor. In her hands she held a tray; on the tray was a glass of water and bowl of porridge. “Morning. Sleep well?”
“I’ve slept better,” he said with a slight undertone of irony.
She lay the tray down on a chest of drawers. Taurus gave it an odd look, he was certain it hadn’t been there last night.
Hilta began checking his pockets for any magical items. She pulled out a purple rock, a bottle of fire, his wand, pin of power and a packet of boiled sweets. “Feel free to have the sweet,” he said desperately, ‘it will control your mind and make you free me’.
“Nice try but it won’t work. This is an interesting little trinket,” she said holding up his pin of power. It was white and about the same length as a finger with runes engraved on it. Taurus didn’t say anything. “Dora has been trying to find one of these for a long time. I’ll untie you now and let you have something to eat.” Hilta untied the rope on his arms and legs.
Taurus looked up at Hilta like a startled rabbit. Without his pin he had no power. His eyes darted to the open trapdoor. Taurus leapt up. Hilta raised her arm; in her hand was a small bottle of pinkish-blue dust. When it hit the floor a large creature rose from the mound of glass and powder. It looked like an invisible creature that had been coated in ashes. Taurus stopped in his tracks. “You know what that is, don’t you,” it was a fact not a question.
Taurus backed away slowly. “You’re an evil woman,” and spat at her feet.
“Just doing my duty. I hope for your sake that somebody wants you back. If you think I’m evil, wait until Dora gets hold of you.” The dust creature stood swaying slightly.
Hilta gestured towards it. “This Being is my prisoner. I couldn’t risk removing it from its world but I’m sure you can appreciate the minimal power it has over this one as it stands.”
Taurus gave a small nod of recognition.
“If you try escaping again it will rip you limb from limb and take your soul home with it.”
Hilta went back down through the trap door. She didn’t bother locking it, Taurus wouldn’t try anything now.

Hilta returned that night, this time with a bowl of gruel. Taurus looked up from the bed. He sat up to take the bowl. The dust creature flexed its muscles. “Why don’t you just finish me off?”
“Maybe I will, or maybe I’ll find some other use for you. Enjoy your meal.” Hilta made her way back down through the trapdoor.
Taurus put the bowl on his lap. He glanced over his shoulder. The dust creature stood waiting tirelessly.

The next morning Hilts returned to the loft room. There was a spring in her step and an almost pleasant smile on her face. The dust creature turned to look at her.
“Be gone,” she said waving at it, “your presence is no longer required.” The invisible creature beneath the dust vanished leaving only its clothes of dust to float done to the ground.
Hilta then turned her attention to the bed. Where last night Taurus had lain instead sat a bemused goat. Gently Hilta fixed a collar around its neck and then began untangling it from Taurus’s clothes.
After she had tied a length of rope to the collar Hilta picked it up and carried it down the stairs and tied it up outside with the others.
Then Hilta went back into the house and fished a crystal ball out of the depths of her pocket. Carefully she set it on her kitchen table. “Birchton,” the ball focused on a town about twenty miles north of Hilta’s house. “Cirrus,” it focused on the cottage on the west of the town. A woman looked up from the smoky glass. “Granny Cirrus. Listen carefully now. I’ve got some important information…”

-------------FOOTNOTES-----------
[##] Any sentence in ‘~’ and not “~” is a thought.