Dead Rainbow

Cremation

More footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. The old man looked down at Mazlo's charred corpse, then to the silent boy, then to the books on the table. He flipped a few pages. 

"Nonsensical black magic." 

He squatted down and whispered in Mazlo's burnt ear, "I wonder if you'd mind buying us just a little more time?"

Mazlo's corpse jumped off the floor, drew his dagger, and headed towards the door. He unlocked it as more guards reached the upper landing and rushed out to meet them. Once again, the door closed muffling horrible shrieks from a fight on the stairwell. 

The old man picked up the six tomes of ancient magic and set them up in triangles with their pages hanging down. He waved a hand at Schön's body, levitated it up out of the chair, and laid her down atop the books. With a snap of his fingers, the books caught fire. 

Redwing woke out of his state of shock. "The books! Mother!"

He ran forward as her body joined the pyre consuming the room. The man stopped him. 

"It's time to go."

The temperature in the room rose rapidly. Soldiers bashed in the door only to retreat away from the fire. The old man pulled Redwing toward the window. 

"Say goodbye to your mother." 

"No! Momma!" Redwing pulled and reached for the flames.

A whirl of energy wrapped Redwing and the man, everything went light for a second, and they were standing in front of a small roadside eatery. Customers were standing in the street looking down the road that led to the capital city. The great tower of the palace was burning in the distance like a giant torch. 

The garrison of soldiers tasked with watching the establishment grabbed their gear and headed off toward the city. 

"This table just became vacant."

Redwing looked at the old man then down at himself. He was wearing a simple comfortable shirt and trouser-shorts. His soiled prison pants were gone. He was clean and his now longer hair was pulled up in a topknot. He still had no shoes. 

"You look like you could use a good meal, my boy." The man gestured they take the seats emptied by the soldiers. "What is your name by the way?" 

"Redwing," he could hardly look away from the tower in the distance. "I mean Nicholas Melock, but my mother always called me Redwing." 

For the first time, the old man really looked at him. He could see his own chin, his mother's high cheekbones, and his near-exact hairline reflected in the child.

"Isn't that interesting. My name is Melock too."

Redwing looked away from the tower and took a seat across from Melock at the long picnic bench in front of the eatery. A young woman came out and cleared away the soldier's dishes. 

"What can I get ya?" she asked. 

"Two bowls of your finest mutton stew."

"And will you be paying customers, then?"

Melock produced a golden coin from the previous empire and handed it to the woman.

"Well, that will do nicely, can I interest you in a couple of pints of ale? To go with your stew."

"That would be splendid." 

And off she went to the kitchen.

Melock looked at the boy across from him. He was certainly his offspring. 

"Well, my boy, I'm sorry to have missed the first decade of your life. I'll do my best not to miss too much more." He grinned with pride at his son.

"You are Melock the Wise?" asked Redwing. 

"None other."

"The greatest of all wizards?" 

"My reputation proceeds me." 

"But you're so old. What are you a hundred?" Redwing's expression was pure disbelief. 

"To be a century-old again. I'll have you know I'm quite fit for my age." He pounded on his chest like a gorilla. 

"How can you be my father? More like a grandpa." 

"Your mother saw past our age difference, what with our shared passion for knowledge. She was a charming intelligent woman." 

Redwing narrowed his eyes. 

The waitress returned with two bowls and two steins and placed them on the table. The aroma of the stew was delicious and Redwing nearly grabbed the spoon out of the woman's hand. He tore into the food, having not eaten in three days. Melock followed suit. Savage appetites ran in the family. 

"Well, that's a compliment to my dear papa's stew," said the hostess. 

She walked away pleased that both the boy and his grandfather were so enjoying the food. 

"I do like big eaters."