Black Mage Cursed (Tournament of Mages Book 3) Cleave Bourbon (whitelam books txt) 📖

week a man rode up from the south warning the lead caravan driver of a gang of bandits in the area robbing passersby. They were a little over a week from Crysinnia, which would put them deep in bandit territory. The air grew noticeably heavier with humidity and there was the faint smell of the sea blowing in from the southwest, followed by the heavy dark clouds of a storm in the distance.

“We stop when finds shelter or trees to hide under.” Ephaltus’ driver called back to him. “Storm coming in fast.”

“All right, what about bandits? I have heard they like to take advantage of situations like this?”

“Can not travel in storm. Have to risk it.” He replied.

Ephaltus climbed the rock wall of the ruin and found himself staring down at a steep incline to a still mostly intact stone building. The door had long ago rotted off, but a large stone blocked the entrance none the less. He slipped while trying to lower himself down the incline and slid on his backside all the way down the wall to the stone enclosure. He stood with the help of his staff and looked at the stone to see if he could circumvent it. He could not.

“Aside!” He said as he waved his staff. The stone rolled aside as the top of Ephaltus’ staff glowed an ominous purple color. He entered the chamber and commanded his stall to continue to glow so he would have light. At the back of the chamber was a stone door, and on the floor there was a mosaic of tile. The pattern looked familiar to him, so he leaned down to clean the dust of one to get a batter look at it. When he did, it shattered, revealing the floor as a facade. Any pressure put onto the tiles and they would collapse into a pit filled with sharpened wooden poles. He touched his staff to the next, intact tile. “Solidify.” He said. The tiles had a faint glow wash over all of them up to the door. He could now walk across them with ease. “No one has ever been in this fool place.” He murmured. “Why the traps? I think it’s a bit obsessive for a shrine.”

“Grumpiness will get you nowhere.” Voice sounded out. Ephaltus thought he heard it coming from behind the stone door.

“All right, who in the two hells are you, then?” He asked acidly.

“Hmm, temper, temper.”

“Well, I’m waiting.”

“I am the guardian of the knowledge.”

“Of course you are. It’s always something. Who put you here, why did they put you here, and what knowledge do you guard?”

“The Who is not important, the why I thought you would guess, and the what you already know.”

Ephaltus pointed his staff at the door, “If you are close too the door, I suggest you back away.”

The door opened before Ephaltus could cast his spell.

“No need to destroy my door. You may enter.”

Ephaltus pointed his staff at the floor. “Reveal.” He said. Nothing happened.

“You are safe.” The voice said.

Cautiously, Ephaltus entered the chamber. At the opposite end of the chamber was a shelf of books, scrolls, and parchment. Before the shelf, to the right of it, was a large raven perched on a stone ledge. “You’re a bird?”

“A Raven.” He answered. “They wanted an owl competitor of mine, but I killed him before they could reach out and recruit him, so I got the job.”

“Brutal.” Ephaltus said.

“He was not a very sharp fellow. Don’t pity him.”

“Let me state my business here and I will be off, or do you already know why I am here?”

“What, you think I read minds? I have no idea why you’re here. I assume you found something that led you here to seek the knowledge I keep.”

“Do you have knowledge of the seventh god?”

“Whoa, that kind of knowledge will cost you dearly.”

“All right, what is the cost?”

The raven cocked its head, “I don’t know. I do not have that knowledge here.”

Ephaltus took a step closer to the bird, “Then why am I talking to you? I should roast you where you perch and eat your carcass for supper. I am in no mood for your games.”

“But, if you would listen to me without making silly threats, I know where the knowledge is you seek.”

“Yes, where? Another trick or clever reply?”

The raven glided off its perch and flew to the floor. On the floor it grew into a young woman in black robes with a hood over her, from what Ephaltus could see, a head of brown hair.

“Go home Tourney Master and prepare for the tournament.” The one called Raven turned her back on the Tourney Master.

“I will not! I have traveled too far and risked so much traveling here.”

She stopped, turned and met his gaze, “You have not risked enough.”

“Then let me risk some more.” He pointed his staff at the woman and let loose his arcane lightning. The one called raven waved off his spell. She cupped her hands and thrust them forward in a pushing motion, and Ephaltus flew back into the wall next to the stone door.

“Your spells are weak, old man. I am a guardian of the gods.”

Ephaltus stood, “I am also a guardian of the gods. I am the Tourney Master.” He redoubled his efforts, and the Raven was taken off guard as the lightning from his staff struck her down. She stood without so much as a scratch and approached him. He instinctively backed away as she come closer.

She stood inches from his face, “I told you the knowledge you seek is not here. I do not guard it.”

“Then what is all this risk business you speak of then?”

“Truth.”

“Truth?”

“Yes, truth. You will have to make a sacrifice for that kind of knowledge. I can tell you were to go to look for what you seek, but that is all.”

“Wait, then what knowledge do you guard?”

“Now you are asking of me questions I may answer.”

“Well?”

She eyed him for a long moment, “Come back