The Red Wizards of Thay

by Jeremiah Gathnor

The story of five Red Wizards and their various adventures.

3. The Cracked Mug

Chapter 3 – The Cracked Mug

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Andor opened his eyes. "Just a second," he called, and then winced at the sound of his own voice. Standing shakily, he pulled his red robes on. His head was splitting. What had he been doing last night?

Still blinking through pained eyes, he opened the door, hiding everything but his head behind the door. It took a second to see anything through the blinding light of the midday sun, but slowly a vision came out. Andris was standing there decked in red. "You know what the best cure is for a hangover, right?" he asked.

"No," Andor admitted. "Is that what this is?"

"Let's go. You need a drink."

Andor blinked a few times, sighed, decided to trust him, and said simply, "Give me a minute. I just woke up." He opened up the door and let Andris in, then headed off to freshen. A few minutes later they were standing in a pub called the Cracked Mug. If Andor remembered correctly, this is where they'd been the night before. It seemed so, as Andor couldn't remember ever being here before that and the bartender greeted the two of them when they walked in. Then again, they were Red Wizards now, and Andor needed to get used to being treated better than he was before.

The two of them sat at the bar. "Two ales," Andris told the bartender.

Andor shifted in his robes. His chest hurt where the new tattoo was. His hand twitched trying not to rub at it. Some of this must have shown on his face, because Andris took one look at him and said, "The tattoo?'

"Yeah. How did you know about that?"

"You showed them to me last night. I would never have thought you had the pain tolerance for that many tattoos."

"I am honestly not sure I do, either," Andor muttered, "but there's something cathartic about the needlework. It hurts, but it makes me feel better. Does that make any sense?"

"No, not really."

"Eh."

They fell into silence as the drinks arrived. Andor began sipping his ale, while Andris was drinking his much more quickly. After a few sips, the Abjurer looked around the room. Most of the people that would occupy a bar at noon were not the kind of people Andor cared much for. One patron, however, did catch his eye. At a table off to the side sat the pale wizard he'd worked with in the maze. He too was dressed in red robes, though they were trimmed in black.

Squinting to make sure it was who he thought it was, Andor caught the man's eye. He motioned for the slightly creepy wizard, apparently a Necromancer, to join them at the bar. After a few seconds, he nodded and stood up to approach and sit beside Andor.

"Hale," Andris said loudly, bringing another wince from Andor, as the man sat down. "Andris Whighte, at your service." He offered a hand behind Andor's back.

The man shook it and said in a low, dusky voice, "I am Lance Zyrtinis."

"Andor," Andor offered. "Sorry about the grease."

Lance shrugged to show he'd already put it behind him.

"Another ale for Lance here," Andris said, and the drinking began anew.

Not long after that another wizard walked in. It wasn't obvious at first that he was a Red Wizard, as his robes were mostly black, but the red stripes down the front named him such without too much inspection. Anyone in Thay who was wearing even that much red was either a Red Wizard or hoping for a painful death.

Andris immediately called this newcomer over. "Greetings," he said as the man approached, "I remember seeing you at the graduation ceremony. I am Andris Whighte, this is Lance Zyrtinis and Andor—" He paused for a moment, unsure of what to call him, "the Secure. Join us for a drink."

"Join you? Certainly. I am called Kal Mar. It is good to meet you all. Lance, it is good to finally have a name to place the face with."

As Kal sat on Lance's other side, the pale man explained to the other two, "We went through training together. We did not meet until just now, but we have seen each other quite a few times."

Andor and Andris nodded acceptance and Andris ordered Kal a drink and they began small talk and drinking. Andris and Kal both seemed to be drinking as normal people do. Andor sipped from his ale but couldn't help notice he was beginning to feel better. He wasn't certain it was the alcohol doing it, but his head was throbbing less than it had when he'd awoken. Lance hadn't touched his ale, but was sipping wine he'd ordered.

As they were in the middle of a discussion about their tests, the doors to the bar burst open. Out of the sun strode a beautiful woman wearing intricately embroidered red robes. Her hair was elaborately done and she gave off an air of expense. All eyes on her, she strode up to the bar, glanced around the room, and said loudly to the bartender, "A round of your best wine for all the Red Wizards in the house, to celebrate my graduation."

Andor caught Andris's eye. There was a merry twinkle in it at the moment, though Andor wasn't sure if it was because of the ale he'd had or the ale he was about to have. The woman sat a few stools down from them and took the wine from the bartender. The bartender then approached the other four wizards set four more glasses in front of them. Kal and Andris drained the ones they were working on and had a hand on the wineglass when the bartender said "Elven wine, compliments of the lady." Andris's hand froze on his glass, Andor didn't even reach for his, Kal took a hesitant sip, and Lance shrugged and took a large swig from his glass.

"That's probably not a good idea," Andris said, trying to warn him. "Elven wine is incredibly strong for anyone but an elf."

Lance just shrugged again and said, "It's good."

Andris simply gave the others an 'I tried' look and took a sip of his own wine. After his first sip, Kal set his glass beside Lance's and ordered another ale. As Andor was taking another sip of his ale, still the original mug, Andris leaned over to him and said quietly, "You should go talk to her."

Andor was apparently drunk. He didn't feel drunk, but it seemed like a good idea, so he must have been. "Sure, why not."

So he set his mug down, stood up and walked past Lance, who'd already passed out, and Kal, who was smiling at something or another, and approached this oddly flamboyant wizardess.

"Hi," he said, catching her attention. When she was looking at him he held out his hand and said, "Thanks for the drink. I'm Andor."

She took his hand delicately. "Kassandrah. Kassandrah Black."

"May I join you?"

"Of course."

He sat beside her turning to keep himself open to her. "You say you just graduated?"

"That is correct. Just last night."

"We must have been in that maze together, then. I, too, graduated last night."

She seemed to perk up at this and become a bit more interested. "I am told I did fairly well. I eliminated four others before someone snuck up behind me. How many did you eliminate?"

Something went off in Andor's mind. He knew he'd approached the wrong person and now needed a way out that didn't involve an explosion. "Well, not quite that many. I would like to think I did fairly well, but four? That is quite impressive."

"It is, is it not?"

"I assume that most of those explosions I heard were you then?"

She smiled, apparently thinking back on it. "Oh yes. It was quite fun."

Andor nodded and his mind raced for a way out. "Would you like to join my friends over there?" He motioned toward the other three. Andris and Kal were talking over Lance's unconscious form lying across the bar.

She looked over at them, probably making sure they were all wearing red, and nodded. "We all graduated together," Andor explained as they made their way over. When the two of them reached the others, Kal elbowed Lance, who awoke with a start. "Everyone," Andor began, "this is Kassandrah Black. This is Kal Mar, Lance Zyrtinis, and Andris Whighte."

As each was introduced, she offered them her hand. Kal held it for his moment delicately, Lance a little less so. Andris went so far as to stand as he was introduced and kiss her hand when it was offered. Andor did his best not to smile. Perhaps that would keep her attention from him.

After she sat on Andris's other side, Lance leaned over to see her around Andris and Andor. "Kassandrah Black," he slurred, "how would you like to spend the evening with me?"

Her eyebrow raised dangerously.

Hastily, Andor interjected. "Forgive him, he had a bit too much wine."

She nodded, but her eyebrow didn't go down. "How did you all do in the tests?" she asked.

"Well enough to pass," Kal smiled.

"How many other wizards did you eliminate?"

Kal and Andris seemed to catch on immediately. "One," Kal said simply. Lance raised a finger as well. Andris half-frowned. "Only two, I'm afraid. On the other hand, Andor and I were the only ones who made it to the center of the maze."

She nodded in what could have been a sign of respect. "Andor, you never actually mentioned a number when I asked you earlier."

"About that," he began, "I did not technically eliminate anyone."

"None? And you made it to the center of the maze? How is that possible?"

Andris leaned over to her and said in a low voice, "He is an Abjurer." She snickered behind her hand.

"Ah. I see."

"In his defense," Andris explained in a normal tone, "he was vital in one of my eliminations?"

"You two worked together?"

"You might say that," Andor said. "More precisely, we recognized the benefit of not turning on each other after we defeated a common enemy. After he was gone, there was no one else left in the maze, so we both sort of won by default at that point."

"I see."

The conversation turned to talk of lessons at that point. The education of a mage from each school was vastly more different than they'd imagined. Kal and Lance, the two Necromancers, had slightly different but relatively similar educations, but Andor, and Abjurer, Andris, an Illusionist, and Kassandrah, an Evoker, all had different educations from the rest.

As they were discussing, a messenger slipped into the bar and approached the bartender. A few moments later, the bartender approached the group of Red Wizards and said "Excuse me, Masters and Madam, but is one of you Andor Sarenson?"

"I am," Andor said.

The bartender handed him a note and nodded over at the messenger now standing once again by the door. Andor nodded to the man, who promptly left, and excused himself from the conversation before standing and walking away a few steps and opening the note.

Andor

Congratulations on your graduation. I regret that I was unable to attend the ceremony, but I was occupied at work, as usual. Come by the arena tonight so we can talk and I can congratulate you in person.

Alumviris

Andor smiled. He glanced up at the others and considered just slipping out. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was be rude to an Evoker. As he approached, they turned to look at him. "A letter from my Great-Uncle Alumviris. He wants me to meet him at the gladiatorial arena. Would any of you care to join me?"

"You guys go ahead," Lance smiled drunkenly, "Kassandrah and I will retire to my place."

Kassandrah looked even more angry this time. Andor held up a hand to her, hoping it would stop her from doing anything too explosive. After she'd settled enough that he was sure she wasn't going to kill anyone, he made a few arcane gestures, spoke a few arcane words, and cast charm on Lance. "Lance, my friend, it might be better for your bodily health if you refrained from speaking for a while."

"Good idea, Andor. I'm certainly glad you have my back."

Andor just nodded and turned to the rest of the group. "So what do you all say?"

Andris was looking at him funny. "Your Great-Uncle Alumviris. Alumviris Sarenson?"

"Yes."

"The Alumviris Sarenson? The most famous gladiatorial boss in all of Bexantur?"

"That sounds like him."

"Why did you never mention that Alumviris Sarenson is your great-uncle?"

"It never came up."

Andris laughed. "Yes. Yes, I think I will come with you."

"Gladiatorial arena means fighting. I will also accompany you," Kassandrah said.

"And fighting means blood," Kal smiled maliciously. "I never miss a chance to see blood."

"Sounds like fun," was all Lance could muster.

Andris paid for the drinks and the five of them more stumbled than walked out of the bar. Andor alone seemed mostly unaffected by the alcohol, which made sense as he had had the least of it. Andris, Kal, and Kassandrah were fine to walk on their own, though they did stumble occasionally. Lance, however, needed support, and had to lean heavily on Andor's shoulder, prompting the joke, "You know, you actually are more secure than you look."

Eventually, they made it to the largest arena in town. As Alumviris hadn't told his nephew where to meet him, they took seats in the stands. As they sat a bout was being announced in the arena below.

First to come out of the gate were two lizardmen dressed in poorly fitted banded mail and wielding longspears. Andor happened to know they where brothers owned by his uncle. Behind the lizardmen, accompanied by a roar of the crowd, came a hulking minotaur in chain male and carrying a spiked chain. Andor's face lit up and he turned to the wizards beside him.

"Bloodhorn, the call him," he said, moments before the crowd began chanting just that. "He's never lost a fight. Uncle Alumviris claims he's the best gladiator in Bexantur. I've seen him fight a few times. It's amazing."

They all brightened at the sound of that. Andor looked back to the arena just in time to see the opposite gate open and a huge ogrish being step out. "Is that a—" someone said. Then the announcer told them all what it was. The minotaur and the lizardmen would be facing an ogre mage. This would definitely be an interesting fight.

Bloodhorn began by simply lowing his head and charging in a typical minotaur fashion, leaving the two lizardmen to follow behind him. The ogre mage set himself to dodge the charging horns, but Bloodhorn changed directions at the last second and ogre mage stepped right into his path. Two large horns pierced right into its side and it flew backwards onto the ground a good ten or fifteen feet from where it had been standing.

When the ogre mage hit the ground, it vanished. The chanting for Bloodhorn, who's horns were now bloody enough to make Kal giggle a few seats down, grew even louder as the ogre mage disappeared from view.

The lizardmen were peering around anxiously, obviously afraid of a sneak attack by the brute they were fighting. Bloodhorn was simply swinging one end of his chain, sniffing the air with massive nostrils, and waiting. After a few seconds, he took a step forward. Then another. He seemed to be following his nose. Occasionally, he would swing the chain at the air in front of him, but he never seemed to hit anything.

After a few minutes, the ogre mage suddenly appeared about thirty feet in front of Bloodhorn. As it appeared, the area around the other three gladiators suddenly went black. Seconds later, the minotaur rushed out of the darkness, head lowered again. The lizardmen came out on opposite sides, but rushed for the ogre mage as well. The ogre mage dodged the charging horns this time, but stepped into a spear from one of the lizardmen, which seemed to pass through its body.

For a few minutes, the arena seemed chaotic. The minotaur and the lizardmen barely seemed to be touching the ogre mage, but the ogre mage, in turn, couldn't seem to hit them either. Finally, it rushed off to one edge of the arena. The other three followed, right into a cone of bluish air flowing from the ogre mage's hand. Bloodhorn and one of the lizardmen jumped out of the way, thus spending less time in the cone's area. The other lizardman, however, seemed frozen to the core almost immediately and stumbled against the wind, nearly falling when the wind stopped.

The ogre mage now rushed forward, taking advantage of the confusion, and swatted the nearly frozen lizardman aside like a stirge. Before the lizardman had even hit the ground, however, Bloodhorn whipped his spiked chain around the ogre mage's head and pulled, severing the head from the body.

The ogre mage's body stumbled around for a few seconds before tripping and hitting the ground, then twitching randomly. Bloodhorn picked up the head by the hair and raised it above his head, roaring for the crowd.

The entire arena went wild. Many of the people in the audience spent most of their day at the gladiatorial arena watching these fights, but few of them ended this dramatically. Bloodhorn obviously was the best gladiator in the city. He was also definitely a crowd favorite.

As the roars of the minotaur and the crowd died down, a messenger appeared at Andor's shoulder. "Alumviris will see you now." Andor nodded and followed the man, leaving the others to enjoy the next fight.

The messenger led him below the arena into an office section. After they passed a few doors, he was announced into an office larger than any of the others.

"Andor, my boy!" Alumviris exclaimed, coming out from behind his desk. "You're dressed in red! Congratulations, Andor, welcome to the brotherhood." He plucked at his own red robes for show before grasping Andor in a strong bearhug.

"Thank you, Uncle Alumviris. It is good to see you."

"Great to see you too, kid. But I did not call you here just for a social visit. We have some business to discuss." He kept an arm around Andor and led him to the desk, where he continued in a hush voice. "Now, Andor, you know I always preferred you to any of your brothers. I doubt they realize that, but that is exactly my point. Anyway, I have been in the gladiator business for far longer than is normal, and I am very glad you showed up when you did. I was very much hoping that you would be the first to know that that fight between Bloodhorn and the ogre mage was not only his last fight, but mine as well. I am finished with this business, Andor, and that is precisely why I called you here."

"I'm afraid I fail to understand, Uncle. How do I play into your retirement?"

"Let me ask you something, Andor. Why did you become an Abjurer? Your father, your brother, and I are all Enchanters. Your mother and your other brother are Transmuters. I don't know what happened to Darok. I will never understand why he would choose the army over the Red Wizardry, but there you have it. What caused you to choose neither of the paths set in your family and focus yourself on abjuration?"

"I chose abjuration because my brothers were an Enchanter, a Transmuter, and an officer in the army. They harassed me as a child and two of them developed powerful magical talent. I had no reason to believe they would stop harassing me, no matter what I became, and so I sought a way to protect myself from whatever they could throw at me. I was right, by the way. Even at the ceremony last night, they wouldn't lay off. Unfortunately, in seeking to protect myself, I only opened myself up to verbal harassment."

"Dear boy, I almost pity you for what I am about to tell you."

"What is it, Uncle?"

"I have a graduation present for you. If not for the fact that it was all already arranged, I might try something else, but I fear I may have just destroyed your reason for becoming a wizard in the first place." He looked past Andor at the door to the office. "Enter!" he called out.

The door swung open. The messenger who had brought Andor here entered, followed by Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" himself, covered in significantly less blood than the last time Andor had seen him. When the minotaur was in the room, the messenger bowed himself out and closed the door behind him.

"Andor," Alumviris said, "meet Goreaulk "Bloodhorn," the greatest gladiator in all of Bexantur. He has recently fought his last gladiatorial bout and he went out in a blaze of glory, if I may say so. He was until quite recently, my most prized slave. He is now your most prized slave. It is his responsibility to protect you at all costs. There is a bit more to it than that, of course, if you catch my meaning."

Andor's eyes widened more and more as Alumviris explained all of this. He did catch his meaning, quite well. Alumviris, one of the most powerful Enchanters in the area, had given this minotaur a geas. If it didn't protect its new master, it would slowly wither and die. "Hail, Bloodhorn," Andor said, quite nervously. "That was a spectacular fight."

"Thank you, Master," was the beast's only response.

"Speaking of spectacular fights," Alumviris exclaimed, "I have something for you as well, Goreaulk, in commemoration for your final battle as a gladiator and your switching of masters." He reached into his desk and pulled out a large sword. It looked quite large to Andor, but when it was handed to the minotaur, he realized it was merely a short sword in the massive creature's hands. "This blade," Alumviris explained, "is enchanted to accept poison easier than other blades. The inside of the scabbard is lined in one of my favorite scorpion venoms. Use it well in your task, Bloodhorn, and do your best not to cut yourself with it, lest you die a horribly painful death."

"Master Alumviris too kind, sir," the minotaur rumbled in broken common.

Alumviris's smiling gaze swiveled back to his nephew. "I don't quite know what to say, Uncle."

"That's quite understandable, Andor. I'm sure the thought of owning something so much bigger and stronger than you are is a bit disconcerting. Still, you must remember that Goreaulk will never hurt you."

"I believe you, Uncle. I just wasn't expecting anything like this."

"Well I gave Jamar and Sondre slaves when they graduated. I saved my best for you, though."

"Thank you, Uncle Alumviris. I'm honored."

"Get out of her, Andor," he replied, smiling. "I've got business to take care of and you're minotaur is taking up most of the room. Congratulations again. I will see you in a few days, no doubt."

"Goodbye, Uncle Alumviris. Thank you again."

As Andor and Bloodhorn left, they were approached by the messenger. "Follow me, if you will, sir. Master Alumviris wishes for Bloodhorn to be equipped before you depart." They followed him to Alumviris's armory, where Bloodhorn was fitted with the spiked banded mail Andor had seen him wearing in a fight once. The minotaur then took the spiked chain he'd just decapitated an ogre mage with and a huge axe he'd likely killed dozens with. The poisoned sword Alumviris had given him earlier looked tiny compared to the other weapons.

Once the beast was fully equipped and looking more dangerous than normal, Andor pressed a few gold into the messenger's hand and asked him to tell the four other Red Wizards he had been with to meet him outside the arena. "I do not think it a good idea for Bloodhorn here to walk through the crowd. It may start a riot."

Nodding, the messenger headed off.

Andor looked up at his only slave. What was he going to do with a massive minotaur? He had a distinct feeling that he would spent just as much time protecting Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" as Goreaulk "Bloodhorn" would spend protecting him.

"Welcome to my household, Goreaulk." It was really all he could think to say. "I hope I never need to rely on your services."