TITLE:THE MAN IN BLACK by MERLYN of THE MAGIC GUILD PALETTE:0333 0889 0b9a 06ac 3 THE MAN IN BLACK 2 By Merlyn of The Magic Guild "Conferatum Spatioza! Asharia del Furut! Loberium fen Cariza! Fett, gris cabang!" A brief flash of blinding light, billowing, blue smoke and the sound of rolling thunder. Then utter silence. The arid smoke rolled around the vast chamber. A low cough and the nerve-racking scraping of wood against stone broke the silence. "Oink?" The tiny sound filtered through the smoke-cloud. "Oink? Cor blimey! Open the shutters and get rid of this infernal smoke!", rasped an irritated voice. The sounds of scurrying feet and the high-pitched squeek of iron-hinges echoed through the chamber. Windy drafts soon dispelled the smoke. The black-robed, sternlooking wizard seated in the ornate, high-backed chair rose halfway to his feet, staring incredously at the small figure standing in front of the ebony-black table. "Oink?" A small, rotund, pink piglet looked forlornly back at the blackrobed wizard. "So, Loberium fen Cariza, eh? Loberia, damn it! LOBERIA!!" The bushy-browed wizard swallowed his anger and looked pityingly at the former apprentice. Whenever would the young upstarts learn to consider and respect the risks involved in arcane spell-casting? "Take it away!" Waving a dismissive hand at the piglet, the blackrobed wizard sank back in his tall chair. "Having trouble with our candidates, are we?" A mild, slightly scrathy voice sounded from the door-way. Turning an appreciative look at the latest addition to the Academy of Magic's amount of livestock, the redrobed wizard smiled. "Merlyn, you old rogue!", exclaimed the High Judge of Magic, jumping to his feet. "Welcome to my humble abode!" A broad grin split the coal-black beard of the blackrobed wizard. "How are matters - apart from your contributions to the local meat-market?" Smiling the old half-elf walked towards his friend and embrassed him warmly. The Academy of Magic, situated in the Township of Lillies, is the uppermost school of magic in the entire M'Yiomoza Lands. A highly prestigious place, where only the most talented apprentices in the magical arts, were admitted. Due to the gruelling tests, of which the final test; The Quest Magica, presided over by the High Judge of Magic himself, was the toughest, the hopefull apprentices needed supreme talents as well as nerves of steel. Any failures, however small, at the Quest Magica held the direst consequences as for the luckless ones! The High Judge of Magic, called The Referee, was naturally a select member of the fabled team of magicians, sorcerors, druids and magic users, who constituted The Magic Guild. A relatively recent member of this exalted ranks of wizards, The Referee had none the less become a close friend of Merlyn, the founder of The Magic Guild. "You must be weary after your long journey", deducted The Referee," come, friend and partake a goblet of wine in my chambers." Shuffling after his reverended host, Merlyn peered at the artefacts displayed on the numerous shelves lining the corridor. Several new ones since his last visit. Some even of an unknown quality! Stopping to inspect more closely an intriguing, mouldy object, the old half-elf completely forgot his host, walking down the dimly lit hallway. "Obviously a fairly new arrival, this one", thought Merlyn," as these other objects on display are at least cleaned of excess dirt." Carefully brushing cobwebs and accumulated strange substances from the artefact, Merlyn examined the revealed little box with a zealot's intensity. Slowly lifting the box' lid, the wizard peered inside. An unnatural darkness hid the box' possible contents. Stroking his long beard thoughtfully, the mage considered the various possibilities. A variation of "Deep Pockets"? A mere "dark spell"? Black, matte paint? Or was the bloody box simply empty?! Consequences be damned! Grabbing the box, Merlyn shook it experimentally. Something shifted inside! A nagging thought of hidden traps didn't stop the travelworn, now irritated wizard from further explorations. Bowing his head, Merlyn stuck his nose into the box and sniffed. A tiny blue-grey puff of smokelike substance suddenly shot from the box' interior and straight up Merlyn's nostrils! A poison-gas trap! Sneezing violently the old wizard inadvertedly dropped the box and clutched his nose. A series of violent sneezes and muted bellows brought servants hurrying from several parts of the Academy. The Referee was among the first on the scene. Regarding his friend bemusedly, he waved the servants away. Casting a windspell the Referee effectively cleared dubious fumes and litter from the hallway. Shakingly straightening, Merlyn rubbed his nose vigourously. Rummaging through his numerous pockets, he finally drew forth a tiny, blue vial. Unstopping it, he took a small sip of the antidote and belched contently. "My nose'll be the death of me one day", the old mage prophesied. Regarding the red-rubbed, slightly swollen beak of a nose, the Referee grinned impishly. "It rather depends on where you stick it, doesn't it?", the High Judge asked innocently. Appearing not to hear the remark, Merlyn squatted down on the stone floor and carefully rummaged through the remains of the mysterious artefact. Among the splinters and larger pieces of broken wood, an intriguing, small parcel lay wrapped in ebony-black velvet. Pulling his wand from its protective scabbard, Merlyn carefully pushed and flipped the parcel around, eyeing it intently. No further traps or mishaps revealed themselves. Regarding his friend's antics, the Referee conjured up a deep armchair and sat contently down, obviously intent on enjoying whatever followed next. On Merlyn's request, the Referee pulled a short dagger from his belt and tossed it to his friend. Armed with means both magical and menial, the half-elf fell to his task once more, feverously attacking the parcel's wrappings. Cutting the thin, tough cord, he slowly inserted the dagger's point into a fold and flipped back the black cloth. Repeating the process several times, the parcel's contents suddenly lay exposed before Merlyn's astonished stare. Sensing the sudden tension in his friend's frozen attitude, the Referee rose to his feet and walked over to stand by Merlyn's side. A golden letter lay blinking and pulsating on the black velvet wrappings. "How did you come by this?", asked Merlyn in a shaken whisper. "As near as I can recollect, it was brought here together with various other artefacts, by a wandering cleric", answered the Judge. "Obviously no-one's had the time to examine it yet", he continued," it looks unfamiliar to me, but you seem to recognize it?" Nodding mutely Merlyn picked up the letter and turning it over reverently, studied it intently. "It's a rather long story, so I suggest we withdraw to your chambers, if we may?", Merlyn said, raising to his feet once more. Nodding the Referee preceeded the half-elf down the hallway. "Are you familiar with the stories dealing with the Elven Nations and the Dragon Curse?", asked Merlyn from the depth of a particularly large, soft-pillowed armchair in the Referee's study. "I've heard bits and rumours, that's all", answered the High Judge," but nothing substantial." The evening was well advanced before Merlyn had finished his tale. The origins of the war-like conflicts between the Elves and dragons were forever lost in the mists of Time. In recent years the dragons had unexplainably risen to hitherto unknown heights of ferocity and strength. Thus the name "The Dragon Curse" lately had taken on an even more sinister meaning and depth. Wizards, clerics, druids and adventurers had for years sought means and ways to help the beleaguered Elves. Steel and magic were, although mighty weapons, no real match against the flying beasts. A few years back the band of wizards and mages, known as The Magic Guild, had come across magical artefacts, in the forms of letters, which may prove to be the key to the riddle of the Dragon Curse. Sofar the wizards of The Magic Guild had found four letters. The Magic Guild's mysterious guru; Jogan, had searched for clues in his vast library of scrolls and spell-books. He was convinced that arranged in the right order the letters would form a magic word, possibly a formulae to lift the dragon Curse! But four letters were obviously too few in numbers. There had to be more of the magical artefacts hidden somewhere in the M'Yiomoza Lands. "As you probably know several of our fellow-Guilders are presently on quests, hopefully involving the retrieval of more of these letters", concluded Merlyn. Nodding the Referee pointed at the letter still laying snugly in Merlyn's hand. "So presumably that is one of the missing letters?", he asked. "Judging from it's form and tingling feel, I'd say definitely aye!", consented Merlyn, looking down at the letter "A". As Merlyn were about to leave the Academy of Magic a week later, he turned towards his host. "Would you like to come back to the Crystal Cave with me?", asked Merlyn, "I'm awaiting the return of some of the Guilders. Hopefully their quests have proven successfull, so we may get closer to solving the Dragon Curse riddle." Shaking his head, the High Judge of Magic declined Merlyn's offer. "I'm hoping to attend The Third Gathering", he said," but till then my duties here at the Academy are too numerous to let me leave for yet a while." Shrugging his shoulders, Merlyn gripped his friend's hand in the ancient handshake of Wizards and bade him farewell. "See you then, compadre", he said. Standing on the battlements of the Academy, the Referee looked down at the retreating figure of the leader of The Magic Guild disappearing through the city's southern portal. Softly he imagined he heard a whisper on the winds; "Back to the shadows and solitude of the Arcane Arts." From "The Fables and Legends of The Magic Guild". 19©93 Merlyn/TMG