Wizard's Awakening

Chapter 2

            “How had this happened?” though Izamic silently to himself. The young man had awoken not long ago; though he had no way of knowing exactly how long ago or how long he had been unconscious for that matter. When he had first regained his senses, the first thing Izamic had noticed was that he sitting in a dark, stone room in nothing but his small clothes. At first he had tried to get up and move around, but soon found his feet were bound together and his hands tied behind his back. With nothing left to do he had tried to get an understanding of where he was being held. From what he could gather, he was in a cellar of some sorts, with nothing to keep him company but the rats, which were scurrying around on the floor, unseen to the captive. Along the walls stood crates stalked neatly and filled with unknown contents. The only sound in the room, besides the rats, was Izamic’s heavy breathing. He was starting to get worried and began asking himself questions. Why was he here? How had he gotten here? Who had tied him up? What was going to happen to him? With nothing left to do, Izamic simply began to ponder the day’s events.

            Izamic rose at first light to the feeling of a large, strong, hand shaking him. He looked groggily sat up on his hay bed and looked at his assailant. As it turned out it was his master, Mandock. Mandock was a master blacksmith in the city of moderate repute. He had received a few contracts from knights in the past and they all seemed satisfied with his work. Izamic had been his apprentice for the past couple years and was beginning to learn the trade very well. “Wake up, squirt. We have work to do.”

            Izamic looked up at his master, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and groaning in annoyance. Mandock was a large, tan man, standing over six feet tall. After years from working at the forge, he had developed a muscular figure, which now was shown with his broad arms showing from his sleeveless, tan tunic. He had a handsome face, with black hair and kind, blue eyes. He was very handsome and, even at the age of forty-three, still attracted the attention of a few women. However, Mandock claimed he wouldn’t marry again after the death of his late wife five years ago. The couple had had a child together, a girl named Mindy, who was now around Izamic’s age.

            “Okay! Okay, I’m up.” Izamic stood up and stretched, hearing a few satisfying snaps. Mandock just stood there laughing to himself, shaking his head in amusement at the strange boy before him. With a final glance at his apprentice the blacksmith walked downstairs to the shop. The shop was called Hammer and Steel, but since only a hand full of the commoners in Ganevar could read, it was usually referred to as Mandock’s. The shop was located in a two story building, with the shop located in the front on the first floor. In the back of the shop, there was a modest kitchen and dining room. On the first floor, there was a door that led into an adjoining building, which was the work shop where Mandock and Izamic worked.  On the second floor there were four separate rooms, a bedroom for each of the houses inhabitants and a spare room. Outside on the store’s side hung a sign in the shape of an anvil that had the name of the shop printed on it.    

            Izamic glanced around his room taking in the sights and the daylight streaming in through the window. His room was relatively sparse, containing only a wardrobe, bed, chamber pot and a table, which had a basin full of water on top of it. The boy made his way over to the wardrobe and put on a tunic not all that different from Mandock’s. He ran a hand through his brown hair in an attempt to pat in down. He gave another yawn and rubbed his silver colored eyes one again. After washing his face with the water in the basin, he made his way down stairs to the dining room and ate the breakfast Mindy had prepared. Izamic looked around, but the girl was nowhere in sight. She had probably gone out on some errand or another. When he fished eating he cleared his plate and then went to join Mandock in the workshop.

      The two men had worked for a few hours when Mandock dropped his hammer and wiped his brow. “Hey Izamic, can you check to see in Mindy is back.” said Mandock taking a swig of wine from a skin he wore at side.

     “Sure,” responded Izamic putting down his tools and heading into the main building. He looked around the store, which Mindy usually tended. Finding no one, he searched the rest of the house, calling her name. The rest of his search was just as fruitless and after calling out one last time, he returned to his master. “I can’t find her anywhere,” he reported.

Mandock looked puzzled at this and he began ran a hand though his short, black hair, thinking to himself. “She usually isn’t gone this long and never without letting me know. Hey Izamic do me a favor and go look for her.” Izamic said he would and ran out to go search for the girl who was like a sister to him.

     After several hours of looking, Izamic had found no sign of her. “Maybe she is already back at the house,” he mutters to himself. As he begins to walk through the street, he began to grow restless of the crowd and decides to take a short cut. He turned to the left and began to move out of the crowd and into the city’s alleys.

     When he was running out of one of the alleys into the street he bumped into a red headed woman, who was wearing what appeared to be a colorful cloak made out of individual pieces of cloth that were sewn together. “Oh, I’m sorry,” apologized Izamic looking up at the woman before him.

     She smiles a dazzling white smile and gives the boy a look of kindness. “Don’t threat on it, little one.” She gave a final look at Izamic and went on her way. Izamic watched her go before she became lost in the crowd and then continued his journey home. After traveling through a few more alleys, Izamic had only to go through one more before he returned to Mandock’s shop. Halfway through the alley Izamic’s head suddenly became very heavy and his eye lids began to droop. Bracing himself up against the wall next to him, Izamic rested his head in one of his hands trying to shake this queer feeling. After a while though, Izamic began to grow drowsier and, after another minute, could no longer fight these feelings. He slipped down to his knees and then lurched onto the ground, his head hitting the dirt road.

      Izamic was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening and the echo of shoes walking down stone steps. He was about to meet his captor and he had no idea what to expect.