The Lady's Song

[Blue_Wyrm]

The young gnome abruptly closed his grimoire, sighing and tired. He had been trying for hours to make himself disappear under the concealment of an Invisibility spell, but he only managed at best to turn his hands into a blue, ghastly appearance.

"By Garl's golden mustache!" he said, disgusted.

He was under the impression that his apprenticeship was akin to swimming up a waterfall… Many of the gnomes in this settlement of the Silver Marches were naturally more talented than he was in executing this trick, but they instead chose other professions that suited their tastes better. Several had great skills in painting, music or gemcutting, while others were relentless hunters gifted with a hawk eyes and a great aim. Drado was so weak swinging a longsword was an ordeal by itself, and he had but mediocre skills in most arts… his parents, without much hope, sent him to an old coot at the edge of town, which had quite a reputation as an eccentric, fickle wizard, even by gnome standards. Children affectionately called him "Uncle Badgy" as he managed somehow to tame a huge badger which he often let them play with.

Drado's first encounter with Teodore was still fresh in his mind. He expected to find him leaning over a musty old book in his office, glasses on his long, pointy nose, but he instead found an old man comfortably seated in his living room, in a passionate discussion with… two other Teodores. One of them turned to the young gnome and asked promptly:

"Marika Hemjones plays lute like she has butterfingers, but people still like her only because she's so pretty, don't you think?!"

Before Drado even processed the question in his brains to find an answer, the second Teodore erupted.

"Not at all, you senile gnome!! She has the enthralling voice of a merfolk!"

The third Teodore laughed mockingly. Drado wasn't sure what to say, feeling completely ignored.

"Bah! How could you know, you've been daft for years!"

…and the chaotic discussion took over some more, each Teodore trying to speak louder than the two others. Drado opened his mouth, about to interrupt them to get their undivided attention, when one of the wizards that had just been called half-ogre stood up and hurled a scintillating blue sphere at the two others which bursted in blinding light. When the young gnome dared opening his eyes again, there was only one Teodore left.

"These stupid louts have no artistic sense at all. I do hope you appreciate fine music?"

"In fact," answered Drado "I came here wondering if you'd take me as your apprentice, master…"

"Ah! So you want to become a fine connoisseur in symphonies! Excellent, I will take you under my wing, I can see you already have the ear for it!"

"That's not what I –"

"Tut-ut!" interupted Badgy "There's no need for modesty here. Tell me, can you read music scores?"

"…I meant I wished to be taught m-" Drado tried to explain

"Oh, don't worry, we all started as beginners, you know. Pick this one up, and I'll go slowly until you can read it by yourself." the old wizard said, handing over an old parchment to Drado.

"I'm not interes-"

This time, Drado was the one to interrupt himself. The score that was given to him was an old, cracked parchment with strange caracters which seemed to move around, ondulate and dissappear when he focused too much on one of them. He had never seen anything like it before, and it certainly wasn't a musical sheet to his eyes…

A strange tickle ran in his spine, suddenly realizing that the old gnome certainly was reffering to magic as "music", a concept that later strangely helped him learn his first cantrip much faster and instinctively than with any of the boring theories written in the usual guides destined to apprentices.

With time he grew more and more fond of his mentor, that always did his best to boost his patience and confidence in his skills with strange unorthodox methods that often included comparisons with concepts found in mundane life. Never having cared too much about deities of the "tall ones" as he called the humans, Drado was surprised to learn that his master served one of them. Out of respect for him, he asked Teodore many questions about Her, learning that the Lady of Mysteries was in fact responsible for the accessibility of magic to most mortals, and that the only thing She asks in return is to use Her Weave wisely, thinking about the consequences of one's spells, that should be used for the well-being of all and the betterment of society.

* * *

Now, he could not agree more with that, after studying a few days before what devastating magics humans often crafted. Drado was explained that while gnome spells were often built around deception and avoidance of conflicts and elven magic took root in the very soil of the land, humans wizards often only sought to conquer everything under their eyes with dramatic, harmful spells, dominating everything they could and destroying the rest… Until that time he never took his study too seriously, as he never reaziled that his own spells could eventually harm, control… and kill. The thought of using magic in an actual battle simply frightened him, he who never walked beyond the forest surrounding his burrowed village.

Drado shook his head in an attempt to shrug those thoughts off. His master left almost a tenday ago on an errand for some magical component, and he didn't hear from him since then. Despite his late efforts, the young gnome felt Invisibility would be out of his reach until Teodore came back.

[Blue_Wyrm]

The following night, Drado had a hard time sleeping, he who usually snored out loud and wouldn't wake during an earthquake. Rubbing his tired eyes, he realized it wasn't even dawn yet, but decided to jump down his bed anyway to keep his mind away from being worried about his master. Walking slowly to the kitchen of Teodore's richly-decorated burrow, he never saw the pair of emerald eyes focused at him from the shadows of an adjacent room.

He opened a cupboard, scaring mice away and pushing aside a long-forgotten flour bag, only to realize there was not anything left to eat in the place. The furry creature behind him thought otherwise, staring at Drado's back while ondulating its long, caramel-colored tail. The morning sun filtered by the window underlined the feline's rich fur color, broken by dark brown stripes along its back and cream hairs on its belly. The predator flexed its front paws, calculating the strength required to perform the deadly pounce on its unaware prey. Drado suddenly stiffened, feeling a presence…

The cat jumped one of the mice fleeing the cupboards, but wasn't quick enough to catch those agile rodents with its front claws. "Nice attempt, Beryl", said Drado, "but I think you are going to have to wait until I come back from the marketplace with supplies." he ended, smiling. The cat raised his proud nose up, slightly hurt in his pride. "You shouldn't have stopped moving so abruptly, it scared that one into the wrong direction." he spoke through Drado's mind. The young apprentice could only chuckle, his cat never managed to catch a single of the many mice that the burrow was ridden with. Feeling the mocking tone and underlying thoughts behind that laugh, the cat walked away, tail raised, offensed. "You better bring me back something good, I haven't eaten for two days". Drado nodded; he too was hungry, but was reluctant on spending the few crowns that his master left for him to use in his now long absence. Nevertheless, he still grabbed his woolen cape next to the door and exited the burrow to head for the marketplace that was slowly waking up.

Farmers were arriving already with vegetable-filled large wheelbarrows when the young wizard made his appearance in the center of the secluded settlement, Amanthogir. He had a deep fondness for these hills covered by old maple trees and nesting numerous gnome burrows, the whole forest perimeter covered in a shroud of illusions that kept out everyone else but gnomes, elves and small beasts of the forest. His few contacts with traveling elves made him quite curious about the outside world and envious of the elves' experience of life, while being puzzled by most elves' apparent lack of enthusiasm about it. The elves saw in him pure innocence that they didn't want to break with tales of war, violence, dark gods and humans struggling for power, so they only presented him with the bright side of the exterior world, the idea of adventure entering the gnome's mind like a double-edged sword. He promised himself to leave this hidden paradise once he'd have enough control over magic to travel safely on his own, but for now his belly was grumbling, and his familiar was probably muttering telepathically back at the burrow, so he simply bought enough food for a few days and started walking the road back home.

Little was he prepared, however, for the sight of a crumbling gnome body on some odd wildly-colored carpet, barely able to lift himself up the ground and shuddering in front of the burrow. Drado rushed to his master's aid, immediately knowing it was him, but was taken aback for a second by his now much more old and shriveled appearance. How could a gnome age this fast in a few weeks?! Teodore raised hazy eyes on his apprentice, attempting to say something before he fell flat on the carpet, uncouncious. Drado, in shock, took three attempts to cast properly the Tenser's floating disk needed to haul his master up to his bed. Beryl, about to scold Drado for taking so long, immediately felt the sadness and despair his own master felt, and did his best to try to mentally calm him. Not having much experience in the ways of healing, the apprentice followed his familiar's instructions and placed an ice-filled cloth on Teodore's feverous forehead, occasionally adding cubes using a cantrip he learned a short while ago. His efforts brought the sick and fragile Teodore back into counciousness by the evening, where he opened reddish, tired eyes on Drado and slowly opened his mouth to speak:

-"Ah, my young apprentice… Please excuse me for being absent for so long."
-"Master, please tell me what-"
-Teodore shook his head. "No, I just need a bit of rest…"

That was all Drado could get out of his master before he fell asleep again, his wheezing breath sounding like he had a grave lung disease. The following days, Teodore got just barely enough energy back to stand on his two feet, but his body seemed broken and aged beyond anything the young gnome had ever seen. Every time he tried to inquire about that horrid affliction, his master simply changed subject, making it clear he did not want to talk about it. The only thing that Drado was now taught were powerful abjuration spells, some greatly beyond his ability to cast, that his master still insisted that he at least studies. Meanwhile, Teodore's general health kept deteriorating, but he never stopped in his task of teaching Drado all he knew about defensive spells.

Two weeks after his master's return, Drado found on the morning Teodore empty shell of a body in his bedroom, now almost as thin as a skeleton. He wasn't breathing, nor did he interrupt Drado with a witty joke when the young gnome started crying on his shoulder. He was truly dead. Beryl tried to pierce Drado's mental walls of sadness, but nothing could do. Only some time later did he walk down Teodore's bedroom, grabbing his cloak and plumed hat to head to town and find Amanthogir's priest of Garl Glittergold. Gnomes in these parts of the Silver Marches had very cheerful funeral customs, and every child, man and woman of the surrounding burrows were present at the celebration to give one last party to the old gnome that had been so nice to them.

It's during that time, while Drado was being handshook and hugged by his brethren, that a brilliant idea struck his mind.

Once the celebration and the time of mourning the dead was over, he went back to Teodore's home and stopped in front of the now wet colourful carpet Teodore was found on, left outside for days under the weather. Of course! Why didn't he think about it earlier?! Drado reached for a pouch and took out a pinch of glittering dust, making wide arcs with his arms over the rug as he mumbled strange arcane words. The carpet soon started to shimmer slightly, revealing the presence of magic in its fabric. The wizard took a deep breath, shivering in excitation as he now knew what he had to do. Beryl watched with apprehension Drado filling a large rucksack with clean clothes, essential possessions and food for a few days, knowing that his tranquil days in the warmth of the gnome burrow were about to end. Little did the feline expect that the departure would be happening in such an extraordinary way, however, when Drado uttered the magical words that activated the Flying Carpet and sent them zooming across the skies in a prodigious speed.

The spell being fashioned to employ the reverse route that his master took to come back in Amanthogir, Drado took his time over the clouds to stare at all the wonders of the outside world that lay below him in the sunlit noon. His home village was nothing but a dot behind him now, how exciting! Deeply touched by the wonderful painting that was displayed before him, Drado's heart became lighter, gnomes never sticking to grief very long, thinking of it as unproductive and a waste of time for the living. The hours passed, as he zoomed over most of the country, heading to what he could only guess to be the Spine of the World mountain range, but then he totally forgot to bring any map and felt quite disoriented even though he had a better view of the area than with any map. For a moment he thought of drawing one, but the flying carpet wasn't quite a good surface for writing, and the now roaring winds would probably tear it off his hands at some point.

Speaking of which, the gnome realized at that moment that his carpet was having more and more difficulties steering through the gusts and currents of the mountains he flew over, and at one time he almost lost Beryl, grabbing him by the neck with lightning reflexes when the winds pulled the cat's claws off the carpet's material. Drado then slid the panicking feline inside his bag, that he held firmly between his hands and legs while sitting. Knowing no way nor having the power to alter the spell animating the carpet without risking to plummet down to an horrible death, he just clinged onto its front end, staring in worry at the horizon, shivering as he was bitten by the now icy air currents…

[Blue_Wyrm]

"Master, do something! We're going to fall!"

If the familiar's voice hadn't been felt, Drado was certain the gushing winds over the spine of the world would have scattered it. The flying carpet was dangerously inclined or folding at times, when the magic that sustained it was pushing against the gusts that came chaotically from all sides, and even an apprentice such as him could guess that the enchantment would fail him before he crossed the highest point in the mountain range.

"The next time you have such a brilliant idea, try asking me about it first!"

Drado ignored Beryl's sarcasms, but it managed to remind him of wise words uttered by his now departed master:

"Magic will not solve your problems, young one. It will only add to them."

He could not understand this statement better than at this very moment, in the faerunian skies, after reactivating a potentially dangerous magical item without knowing how to truly control it. If only he spent more time in his master's study, maybe he would have found the proper spell to steer the god-cursed rug as he wished!

"There is only one true spell in Faerun, Drado Nackle. Looking for any other source of magic is pure foolishness, and will cost you a life of running after dreams…often with a most brutal end."

He pondered over this last thought, concentrated beyond what is humanly possible for someone about to fall off a flying carpet with a familiar mentally screaming in panic, but certainly possible for a gnome crafting a solution to a problem. Closing his eyes, Drado put all his efforts in applying his detection of magic not only on himself or the carpet, but on the entire intricate network of wind currents that raged around him. Beryl, who shared feelings and perceptions with Drado, suddenly became silent and contemplative, not speaking a single complaint about the situation. Taking that as a cue to open his eyes, he kept all his focus on maintaining his ability to visualize magic, but then could not help but gasp in awe at the sight.

The snowy mountain range was still dormant below and all around him, but a complex web of twisting purple threads were now dancing around the flying carpet in a magnificent ballet. His heart filling with hope, Drado addressed a silent thankful prayer to Mystra and proceeded to reach forward to the threads with his mind. In order to stabilize the carpet, he had to manipulate the winds so that they would all focus on pushing on his back towards the same direction, but the actual exercise was as challenging as sorting a knot of evasive noodles. Slowly, he managed to stabilize the weather, his first attempts making the carpet shake and prompting Beryl to start mentally yelling again. His mind and body completely exhausted, he saw the results of his efforts twenty minutes later, when the carpet flew past a frosty peak and started descending towards a huge valley the size of a small country.

The young gnome knew he could not maintain his weather control anymore, his mind on the verge of exploding. With a groan, he leaned against his bag containing his clothes and Beryl, nearly fainting. No enchantment was holding the magical rug in the air anymore except its own, so it could only follow the raging winds down the mountain, starting a dive which nearly threw Drado and his luggage overboard. Hoping that the artefact would land safely on its own, Drado was gripping the carpet's edge while holding the bag with his other hand. Losing altitude quickly, the gnome stared in horror at the forest trees that now extended their leaves not too far below.

Zooming over Mossdale Forest like a colored comet, Drado's introduction to the lands of Sundren was interrupted by the tip of a tall, ancient pine tree, who made sure to grab a souvenir while the carpet touched its top branch. Now shrieking in panic, Drado could only watch his flying mount lose row after row of its precious magical fabric, taking refuge on its right side while he still lost altitude at a great speed. He ducked under a large high branch at the same time as something else seemed to hold onto the carpet from the other side. All of a sudden, the carpet stopped moving and everything around him froze… except his own body, which continued its descending course forward and…
Tymora be praised, into a river.

A fabulous river in fact, now to be Drado's favourite, he who never liked bathing too much. Ignoring the cusses and curses of his feline companion, Drado, slightly dizzy, swam to the shore while maintaining the now soaked Beryl above the water level. As dusk fell over the borders of Mossdale Forest, Drado released a deep sigh and lied there against a tree, simply grateful to be alive, wherever he was…

Then the tought hit him, sending shivers through his spine. Teodore never called him by his name, nor did he ever speak of the one true spell.