The Wandering Blacksmith E-Book

Vaughan W. Smith

• Herausgeber: Fair Folio
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 251

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Forging a new path...
... is harder than banging a hammer.
How can Vincent escape his heritage?
Being the son of the world's greatest wizard isn't easy. Especially when you want a different life. But changing your name and taking up a trade can only get you so far.
Vincent sets off on a journey to find himself and create distance from his legacy. Combating the darkness and corruption of the Blight was his father's obsession. Vincent wants something different.
Why then does trouble keep finding him?
Vincent will need to make a choice. Turn a blind eye to the problems of the world, or stand up and fight for justice his own way.
Can he tread a new path?
You'll love this epic collection of fantasy stories of Vincent's adventures because of the action, intrigue, and character development.
This book is perfect for anyone who loves a great fantasy tale, and a must buy for those that enjoyed the Hidden Wizard series.
Get it now.
The Wandering Blacksmith is the prequel to The Hidden Wizard Series. This complete four book series is outlined below.

The Hidden Wizard Series
Book 1: Pool of Knowledge
Book 2: Vault of Silence
Book 3: Spark of Truth
Book 4: Soul of Light
Books 1-4: The Hidden Wizard: The Complete Series

Leseprobe

THE WANDERING BLACKSMITH

PREQUEL TO THE HIDDEN WIZARD SERIES

VAUGHAN W. SMITH

CONTENTS

1. Pillars of Light

2. A New Beginning

3. The Prodigal Son

4. Exiled

5. The Letter

6. Weaponsmith

7. A Weapon's Purpose

8. Preservation of Life

9. Nomad

10. The Promised Land

11. A Chance Meeting

12. The Pure Diamond

13. A New Home

The Story Continues

Did you enjoy the book?

The Hidden Wizard Book 1: Pool of Knowledge

Let’s continue the journey together

About the Author

1

PILLARS OF LIGHT

Vincent rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them over the fire. He was lucky to get a spot near the fireplace in such a crowded inn. The night was cold, and he had been travelling a long time.

“Hands off!” a woman called out. He turned and looked in her direction. It was a waitress, fending off some drunken louts.

She shouldn’t have to deal with that, Vincent thought.

He wanted to intervene but looked at the two men hassling her. They were heavy set and had dark eyes.

Just mind your own business, he thought and returned to the fire.

The heat was comforting. He used his right hand to reach into his pockets. He only had a few coins left.

So much for forging my own path.

He had refused any aid, instead choosing to take off with the clothes on his back and whatever money he had. It hadn’t taken him far, and soon he would have nothing.

Not quite the adventure I was picturing. What do I do next? he thought.

He played with the coins in his hand, trying to decide what to do. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten dinner.

Better save them for the next meal. I can last, he decided. He returned the coins to his pocket and focused on warming himself.

A few minutes later he felt a hand on his shoulder. Vincent turned quickly to see who it was. He recognised the two men who had been hassling the waitress.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“I believe so. Why don’t we step outside?” the first man said. He had a scar above his right eye.

“I’d rather not. Could you please explain what you want?”

“We’ll explain outside,” the second man said. He started to pull a dagger out.

“I definitely feel safer in here,” Vincent said. He needed some sort of plan.

“Wrong answer,” the man with the scar said. He reached out and hauled Vincent into a standing position. Vincent pushed back, but the man was like stone and didn’t react in the slightest. The second man slid around and poked the dagger into Vincent’s back.

“Start walking. And don’t bother with making a scene, we already paid off the innkeeper,” the man said. Vincent looked over and saw the innkeeper watching. As soon as he caught Vincent’s gaze, he turned away with embarrassment.

“You still haven’t mentioned what you want,” Vincent said. His attackers said nothing, pushing him along. Soon they were outside and the bigger of the two dragged Vincent behind the lane.

“Is your name Andar? Are you the son of the wizard Granthion?”

“No, my name is Vincent. You made a mistake.” The man with the scar punched Vincent in the stomach.

“We have your description, and we’ve been tracking you. Answer truthfully,” the man with the dagger said.

“My name is Vincent.”

“I don’t care what you want to call yourself. Were you born Andar, the son of Granthion?” the man with the dagger said again. His companion threatened another punch.

“Yes. Now leave me alone. That’s all behind me. Look around, I’m alone and have nothing of value.”

“Oh, but you are something of value. Start walking,” the man with the dagger said. He pointed into the nearby forest. Vincent could see a small trail leading out of town and through the trees. He started walking.

“That’s better. Stay on the path. Don’t make us chase you. We’ll catch up, and you don’t want to give us any more excuses to exercise our frustration.”

Maybe I do, Vincent thought, but he decided to bide his time. He would likely only get one chance to escape, so he would wait for the best opportunity. Whatever these people wanted; it couldn’t be good.

He continued down the path and kept looking for possible escape routes. He also tried to identify landmarks that may help him navigate his way back to town. But there wasn’t much that he could rely on. The path began to curve, and he soon emerged into a clearing.

He saw a large barn at the opposite edge, but what drew his attention was the large group of Blighters. The hunched beasts were dressed in rags and armed with knives and their long sharp fangs. No matter how often he saw them, he could never see how they were originally human. It seemed impossible.

“Nice crowd,” Vincent said.

“You should hope so. If you cross us, then they can tear you apart in seconds,” the man with the scar said. Vincent didn’t doubt that. He had never seen them so patient and calm. Someone or something had to be controlling them. In his experience they had been like wild dogs. Acting on instinct and relentless.

Vincent saw men spread through the Blighters. When they weren’t focused on him, they glanced around at the Blighters.

Those men must be keeping the beasts in check, Vincent thought.

“Keep going, into the barn,” he was instructed.

My chances of escaping are practically zero now. I should have tried running before, he thought. There had to be thirty Blighters and at least five additional men in the clearing. Not counting anyone who may be inside the barn.

Vincent played along. He didn’t like how things were turning out, but he knew his current situation was hopeless. He could only hope that he had some sort of opportunity soon. There had to be a reason they were bringing him in alive.

The barn was poorly lit, and Vincent couldn’t see much. But when his eyes adjusted, he did see a tall man standing within, and a single chair.

“Please sit,” the man said. He pointed at the chair. Rough hands shoved Vincent from behind, causing him to stumble. He regained his footing and closed in on the chair. After looking around the room, he sat down.

“Bind him,” the mysterious man said. The two who had accompanied Vincent grabbed ropes from the barn, tying Vincent securely to the chair.

“You can leave now,” the man told them once they were finished. They left the barn immediately. The man waited for them to leave, and then began again.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation. You are Andar correct?”

“I was once. I’m Vincent now.”

“Very well, I can appreciate not advertising your lineage. Your father is the entire reason why you are here today.”

“I had gathered that.”

“Good. My name is Rindale. I have plans for you.”

“Rindale? Don’t recognise the name.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. But in time, everyone will know it. I am an avatar of the Blight,” Rindale said. He grabbed a lantern and brought it close. He showed his face to Vincent.

“No way,” Vincent breathed. Rindale’s eyes were jet black.

“I wanted you to see that I’m the real deal, and not just some bit player. You are going to help me get to your father.”

“Why would I do that? As soon as you let me go, I’ll go as far as possible from him.”

“I can see you have already done that. But we have ways of persuading you, although they hinge on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You need to be infected with the Blight,” Rindale said. Vincent was horrified by the thought. He started to struggle with his arms and legs.

“Don’t bother. Even if you were to somehow escape this chair, you’ve seen what awaits you outside,” he said. Vincent slowed and stopped.

“What do you want with my father?”

“He is the world’s greatest wizard. I need him for my work.”

“He would never help you. He is committed to curing the Blight.”

“I know that. Which is why you are going to help me,” Rindale said. He stopped pacing around the room.

“Enough chatter, it’s time to get this started.”

“I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Rindale said. He pushed up the sleeve on his coat, exposing his hand. Vincent could see something happening. One of the man’s nails was jet black. Some sort of tar was accumulating on the edge of the nail. Rindale reached into his coat with his other hand and produced a dagger.

“Here’s the fun part,” he said. He carefully dripped the black substance onto the blade of the dagger.

“Let’s make this official,” Rindale said, closing in. Vincent leaned back, trying to avoid the man and his knife. He realised it was futile though as he was completely bound.

“Just relax and accept your fate,” Rindale said. He leaned in with the dagger. Vincent heaved himself backwards, toppling the chair, and knocking over Rindale in the process. The dagger clattered to the ground.

“Don’t be stupid. They’re outside waiting for you,” Rindale said. Vincent scrambled along the ground looking for the dagger. He found it and started sawing away at the ropes binding his hands. Rindale rose and looked over.

“Again, this is futile. You aren’t leaving this place without being infected.”

“You’re probably right,” Vincent said. Once his hands were free, he started to free his feet. Rindale stood and observed, keeping his eyes on the dagger.

“But for whatever reason, you want to control how I’m infected. Otherwise you would have just gotten something else to do it,” Vincent said.

“You’re correct. I can control the process more than one of them,” Rindale said, gesturing towards the door.

“And now I have the dagger, so you can’t do that.”

“It’s fine. I can have you bound, and we can go through this again. You step outside without being infected and they’ll know what to do.”

“Then I guess I need to take matters into my own hands,” Vincent said. He took the dagger and scratched himself with it above the ankle. He felt the black substance enter his body and shuddered.

“What are you doing?” Rindale said.

“You said I wasn’t leaving here without being infected. But I know enough that the infection needs to travel to the head and the heart. I’ve bought myself enough time to get to my father. I won’t be your puppet.”

“You’ve delayed my plans, but I won’t let you leave,” Rindale said.

“I’m not asking,” Vincent said. He had nothing to lose now and had taken a huge risk infecting himself, but it was his only chance.

Vincent took aim and hurled the dagger at Rindale. It was a poor throw but on target. Rindale reflexively dodged, and the dagger clattered off the wall behind him. Vincent used the opportunity to run for the door. He heard Rindale cursing in the background.

Vincent burst through the doors into the open space. All eyes were on him.

“One of you now, just relax,” Vincent said. The Blighters remained still, and the man controlling them looked confused. Vincent started off at a run. Rindale emerged just behind.

“What are you doing? Stop him!” Rindale called out. He shocked the Tainted ones out of their surprise, and they let the Blighters loose. Vincent could hear their excited grunts.

This may not end well, he thought.

He saw a ball of flame flying through the air and dived to the ground. The fire slammed into the barn and engulfed it in flame.

“A wizard’s fire! Help is here,” Vincent thought. He stood up and ran towards where the fire had come from. The Blighters were not deterred by the fire and kept up their pursuit.

Maybe it’s my father? Vincent thought as he ran.

But it didn’t seem right. His father was too busy to follow him all this way. He had probably sent another to do the job.

“Duck!” a voice called out ahead. Vincent dropped to the floor and watched another fireball hurl over his head. He heard the impact as several Blighters shrieked in pain. With a jump, Vincent returned to his feet and pushed on.

He found himself in another small clearing. There was a wizard and a woman standing ready. She was armed with a bow and had an arrow nocked.

“Keep moving and we will hold them off,” the wizard said. Vincent didn’t recognise him and didn’t care. He acknowledged the two of them and kept running. The twang of the bow caught his attention as he ran. He knew that without their help he would have been caught already. His chest started to burn with pain.

“Just keep going,” he told himself. With each beat of his heart he could feel a drumming within him. It was probably his imagination, but it felt like the infection was slowly progressing within him.

A crash sounded to his right and Vincent dove into some bushes. He peered up and saw a gang of Blighters running off.

They’re not after you, they’re responding to the fight. Just wait it out, he thought.

Once the danger cleared, he stood. His legs were like jelly, and he wasn’t sure if it was the excitement or actual tiredness, or even a result of the Blight coursing through him. He couldn’t see anyone following, so he decided to take more care. He walked slower and tried to mask his trail. By avoiding branches and trampling any plants he hoped that it would not be obvious that he had taken this route.

Vincent winced and turned behind him. A massive explosion sounded.

They need help, he thought.

He looked at his hands and turned them over. He wasn’t a help to anyone. He had no skill at fighting, and he wasn’t strong. But if he survived and reached his father, he could at least bring help. Even if it was too late.

“Just push on,” he whispered. Spurring himself on, he returned to his walking.

At first everything went well. He put hours of distance between himself and where he was captured. He had been careful and also moving at a good speed and minimizing breaks. But it wasn’t enough. He heard more signs of movement behind him. Leaning against a tree, he peeked out at the trail behind him. A man was approaching with purpose, a handful of Blighters in tow.

I can’t hide, this it. I just have to run, Vincent thought.

He turned and ran. He heard raised voices as he went, knowing that the group behind had been alerted to his presence.

It doesn’t matter, just keep going, he thought.

He altered his route, venturing off the path and skipping over plants and low-lying brush. He stumbled and almost fell several times, but just managed to maintain his footing. It felt like they were falling behind, so he increased his speed even further and pushed forward to what looked like another clearing.

Vincent slowed as he rushed out of the tree coverage. He was indeed in a clearing, but there was one clear problem. In front of him was an unclimbable rock face.

“I’m done. This is it,” he whispered. He turned to assess his options. The Blighters in pursuit were almost there. He looked left and right, trying to find way out. There were none. He closed his eyes.

“You gave us quite the chase. But it’s over now,” a man said. Vincent opened his eyes and looked at the man. He was medium height with brown hair and no other distinguishing features. Except for the black mark on his forehead.

“It must be hard with such an obvious mark of the Blight,” Vincent said.

“It was hard, but it just means I don’t have to worry about blending in. I can just work with these fine friends,” he said, gesturing to the Blighters. They spread out, blocking any chance of escaping from the clearing. They stared at Vincent with a murderous hunger. Vincent swallowed hard.

“They would love to have a go at you. I think it’s because you’re not fully turned yet. Not sure exactly how that works. But because I’m here, you’re safe. Just come with me, and we can all move on,” the man said.

Vincent didn’t know how to respond. A feeling of despondency broke over him. He started to reassure himself that he had done everything possible, but it didn’t work. He felt defeated. He started to speak but was interrupted. There was something happening.

A white light shone down from above. Vincent wasn’t the only one to notice it. The man and the Blighters all stopped and stared.

“What is that?” the man said. Vincent wasn’t sure himself, but it seemed somehow familiar. It had to be a spell. The light split into separate pillars, each one hovering over a person or creature. Vincent looked up at the one above him. He could feel a strange warmth coming from it. He was distracted by a strange sound.

The pillar above the man’s head suddenly pulsed down. He was enveloped in the light and dropped to his knees. The pillar of light disappeared within a few seconds and he collapsed completely. He tried to utter something but then just passed out. The Blighters shrieked in distress. One by one they were targeted too. Like the man they seemed pained by the intrusion of the light. They writhed and moaned before also passing out.

“What is going on? What kind of spell is this?” Vincent thought. Suddenly he felt the light surround him. The force of it knocked him down. A white-hot heat permeated him completely, and he felt it burning away. But it wasn’t his body, or his mind that was targeted. The ugly oozing taint that was slowly spreading throughout him was retreating. He was being healed.

As the realisation dawned on him, he saw a glimpse of his father’s face.

Thank you, he thought.

It was the first time he had been truly thankful for his father’s intervention. He didn’t understand what it was, but in the end wasn’t surprised. But he felt warmed by the fact that his father had found a way to help him, even after everything that had happened. Just as quickly the light left, and he was pitched into darkness.

Vincent awoke slowly, and took time sitting up. Hours had passed it seemed, and he looked around as he remembered what had happened. The man and the Blighters were all still unconscious. The Blighters seemed changed somehow, but Vincent didn’t wish to go inspect them. He had his suspicions but didn’t want to take any chances. He stood with care, keeping an eye on his enemies. They weren’t stirring.

Whatever happened must’ve taken a greater toll on them, he thought.

He slowly crept away and returned to the path he had been taking. He needed to backtrack and then find a way out.

“I mustn’t waste this opportunity,” he thought. He was already going out on his own and starting a new life. But that was nothing compared to what had just happened. He had been on the edge, everything about to be taken from him. But this truly was a new start. His resolve was stronger than ever. He would not waste this second chance.

I’ll make you proud of me, Father. One day I will return as your equal, Vincent thought.

2

A NEW BEGINNING

Vincent trudged along the road, his feet slipping and sliding in the mud. The path was not a good one at the best of times, but the torrential downpour had made things considerably worse. He looked behind him, to see how far he had come but it was hard to judge.

No point looking back, there’s nothing for me there. It’s a fresh start, just push forward, he thought.

He didn’t know the area well at all, but he suspected a town was close by.

A shriek from up ahead shook him out of his thoughts. Someone was in danger, and it sounded like a woman.

“I should investigate,” he said. Continuing on the road, he saw the vague outline of shapes in the distance.

“Better not get seen,” he whispered and left the road, instead skirting the bushes on the edge. He had to duck the occasional tree branch and was hit a few times by ones that he didn’t notice. But his focus was on the altercation up ahead.

He drew closer and noticed three shapes. Two men and a woman, but it was hard to see. Multiple times he had to brush his waterlogged hair out of his face. He crept closer, sticking to the cover of the brush. He started to pick out some voices.

“It’s quite simple, we know you’re loaded. Just hand it over,” the first voice said.

“What’s it we usually say? Ah yes. Your money or your life!” the second voice said. Vincent saw the man produce a large knife. The other appeared to be holding the woman roughly by the arm. Next to the group was a horse and cart, which had been run off the road.

“I don’t have any more. I was just doing a delivery,” the woman explained, between sobs.

“We’ll settle for the jewels, cough em up!” the first man said. He squeezed her arm harder.

“We are simple people. I have nothing more.”

“I think we need to make an example of her,” the second man said, twirling his knife in the air.

This is bad, I have to do something, Vincent thought. But he was hungry, tired, and unarmed. And he had no training in how to fight. Looking around he spotted a rather thick tree branch on the ground. It was about the right length to serve as a weapon.

“At least I have something,” he said to himself, picking up the branch, and doing a quick test swing. Another shriek spurred him into action.

Vincent crept onto the road, trying to use the element of surprise. If he could just disarm the man with the knife, he had a chance.

“Help! Help me!” the woman cried out, as she noticed Vincent.

Here we go, Vincent thought.

He rushed at the man with the knife, swinging wildly with the branch. He clipped the man’s arm, causing him to drop the knife.

“Who are you?” the first man said. He let go of the woman and started striding towards Vincent.

I got their attention, what next? he thought.

“Run!” he called out to the woman. She hesitated a moment, and then started running. She left the horse and cart behind.

“There she goes!” Vincent said, pointing at the fleeing woman. The man who had been brandishing the knife turned to look, and Vincent ran over and swung at the man’s head. He connected with a loud thunk, and the man dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

“You bastard, you’ll pay for that,” the first man said, descending upon Vincent.

I need to get out of here, Vincent thought.

He dropped to the ground and scrambled for the knife. He reached for it, and it slipped out of his wet fingers. On his second try he held it and rose quickly. Both men were upon him know, and Vincent felt weak and nervous. He threw the knife away into the bushes.

“Let’s keep this civilized, shall we?” Vincent said. It was his best chance of surviving. He was terrible with a knife, and it would be more likely used against him.

“I’m going to enjoy this!” the second man said and launched an attack. Vincent ducked and stepped backwards. The first man started to come around from the side.

Here goes! Vincent thought. He ran at the first man and dived for his legs. The thief wasn’t expecting it and they both tumbled to the ground. Vincent was up first and started to run. Something caught his foot and he fell again.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” the second man said. He clenched his fist and lined up a big punch.

Vincent did his best to protect himself and rolled away. But he could not escape the repeated blows. They kept coming, and once the first man recovered, he started kicking Vincent as well.

“That’s for interrupting us!” the first man called out.

“And that’s for being a penniless waste of space,” the second man called out. Once they had exhausted themselves, they stepped back. Each man was panting from the exertion.

“Let’s leave this bum, and try to find your knife,” the first man said.

“Maybe the rain will wash this trash away!” the second man said. He leaned forward to spit on Vincent. They both laughed and walked off, heading in the opposite direction to where the woman had run.

They’re not going after her. Good, Vincent thought.

That probably meant the town wasn’t too far away.

“I can make it,” he told himself. But it was more bluster than based on fact. He wasn’t confident. Once the thieves were far enough away, he slowly stretched out and tried to get up. The pain was more intense than he had realised. Now that the danger was over, he noticed it much more.

“That smarts,” he said as he sat up. The rain continued to pound him in the face, enriching the experience.

Surely, I can reach the town, he thought and dragged himself to an upright position. He started to walk, carefully at first. He clutched his stomach as he walked. For whatever reason it seemed to help with the pain.

You idiot, why did you do that? he thought. There really had been no other possible outcome than him being beaten soundly, but he had done it anyway.

“She got away, and I’m still alive. Not so bad,” he summarised. The events of the previous days had turned his world upside down. And now, there was nothing more he could lose. If by some miracle he made it to the town, there was hope there.

Just need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, he thought and focused on just that.

The rain increased its intensity, and he found himself slipping and stumbling even more. He could see buildings in the distance, no doubt the town he was aiming for.

Just a bit further, he thought, spurring himself on. Unfortunately, he didn’t spot a large pothole in the ground and rolled his ankle, tumbling into the muddy hole.

“I’ll just rest here,” he decided, praying that when he awoke things were better.

The sun finally came out and woke him up. He tried to rise but struggled.

Is this it for me? No, it can’t be, he thought. With a concerted effort he pulled himself up into a seated position.

“The town’s right there!” he whispered, looking out. He had no idea where he was, but there it was. A collection of houses and other buildings, with an assortment of people starting to mill around now that the rain had finally stopped.

“Let’s go take a look,” he thought and tried standing. He was shaky and the pain returned, but he ignored it. He could survive this, knowing the town was so close. He walked as normally as possible, trying not to look out of place. But he was badly injured, and his clothing was terrible.

“I look like I’m homeless. Which is accurate,” he realised. His only chance was someone taking pity on him. As he reached the town gates, he saw the townsfolk giving him odd looks. None of them friendly.

“Maybe I’ll be passing through,” he thought with a grim laugh. But he persisted. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement ahead of him. It was a woman, and she was running.

“Hey there! Hold up!” she called out. Vincent slowed, but didn’t stop immediately. He didn’t trust himself to stay on his feet with any sudden movements. Now that he was closer, and the weather was clear, he had a better view of her. She was older than him by probably ten years and had long brown hair and a curvy shape.

“It is you. Thank you so much for your help. What happened to you? What happened to the thieves?” she said. The concern in her voice was obvious.

“I got the jump on them and knocked their knife away. But before I could escape, they tripped me over and let loose their frustration. I’m a little worse for wear, but I had nothing worth stealing so they just left,” he said.

“It’s incredible that you survived. You have to let me thank you. My name is Milna, and my place is not far away. Come with me,” she said.

“I’m Vincent. Thank you, I would really appreciate that.” He didn’t want to impose on the woman, but he desperately needed to eat and rest. At the very least he could recover and then move on.

Milna walked slowly, keeping an eye on Vincent, and offering her hand if he looked shaky.

“What brings you here Vincent?” she said.

“What’s here? Sorry I’m not familiar with this town,” he said.

“You’re in Oltone.”

“Oltone? Never heard of it. I’m just travelling at the moment.”

“I see. Here we are, come inside and sit down,” Milna said. They had arrived at a small cottage. She opened the door and guided Vincent to an old but comfortable looking chair. He sank down and let himself relax.

“I have some soup on, you just wait there, and I’ll bring it out,” she called out as she walked over to the kitchen. Vincent looked around and noticed that the house was comfortably but simply furnished. Soon enough Milna rushed back in the room, a bowl of steaming soup sitting on a metal tray.

“You don’t need to move, just eat there. It’s my special chicken soup,” Milna said with pride.