Free Journeyman (A Wizard's Life) by Eric Guindon Page B

make a telescope. He told Timmon he was leaving and the cold presence came with him. He still had a promise to fulfil to the ghost.
    They disappeared into the night and out of the lives of the village he had called home for a decade.

CHAPTER 4: HERMIT
     
    When he set out, Benen had no plan. He just knew he had to get away from people. He couldn’t risk hurting someone else again, ever, even if it meant being alone. Well, as alone as a man with a ghost for a companion could be.
    He walked, even though he would rather have flown, in consideration for Timmon. If he flew, he would be abandoning the ghost. For the same reason, he travelled at night; the ghost seemed to fade away during the day — dreaming, it claimed.
    He headed east: he knew that if he walked east far enough he would reach the eastern desolation. This arid wasteland would suit his mood, he felt. There, he would be alone as he wished to be.
    It took the pair three weeks to reach the edge of the desolation.
    It had been slowly receding for centuries, Benen now knew this was the work of wizards, like Oster and Tawn. He guessed they set up their domains on the edge of the desolation and made it habitable and desirable. Then they exacted tribute from those who settled on the new land. Benen had no interest in making the wasteland habitable; he wanted somewhere no one would go.
    When he arrived, he surveyed his new domain. It was a place of sand and rock, with some scrub trees struggling to survive on the meagre rainfall the area received. It was perfect.
    Benen waited until day so that he would have privacy from Timmon and then unleashed his anger and frustration on his surroundings; cutting loose as he had never before.
    The Cleaver was his constellation of choice for this. He found an outcropping of rock several metres tall and bisected it with one spell. He welcomed the pain and fire in his veins from channelling so much power at once. The outcropping did not fall apart as he had hoped; his cut had cleaved the rock in two, but each piece still stood up independent of the other. He wanted it destroyed!
    He knew how to do this. It would require three celestial bodies working in concert for the exact effect he desired. This was no minor feat, but he did not care. He was beyond caring.
    The first body he needed was the Sun, it was evidently in the sky since it was day. It would provide fire, the spark.
    The second body he needed was the Cleaver. He had been using it to cut before, but its magic was more than simple cutting, it governed all destruction. It amplified the whole, turning fire into something greater.
    The last body the effect would use was the Gull. This constellation’s magic was key to all spells involving air as substance. Benen wanted his fire to be well fed and the Gull portion of the effect would make sure of this.
    He strained to keep all three portions in his mind at the same time, mixing their motions together, and blending their incantations. When the magic came it ravaged his body, coursing through him like a river of fire. It nearly knocked him out; nearly, but he hung on: he needed to see the effects of his spell.
    The outcropping exploded in fiery molten fragments and globs with a sound like thunder. Much of the central part of the rock was sublimated directly into steam. Barely conscious, Benen revelled in the sight of his power unleashed.
    But it was not enough. Even this devastation did not match the emotions raging in his soul.
    Using the power of the Sun, Benen cast a new spell, a simpler spell of pure fire. This time he sent flames along the ground to scour the area, burning away all traces of plant life and whatever small lizards, bugs, and other animals called this place home.
    He was now in constant agony. This was the most magic he had ever channelled in such a short span.
    But he was not done.
    He wanted to see more destruction. He wanted the desolation around him to match what he felt in his heart. He did not care if the magic