A Meeting of Wizards

A MEETING OF WIZARDS

  by

  John A. Hosh

  “The adventures of young wizards

  when wizardry was young.”

  Book 1 of the Jono Books

  A Meeting of Wizards

  by John A. Hosh

  Copyright 2012 by John A. Hosh

  Cover art copyright 2012 by John A. Hosh

  All rights are reserved.

  See the Pronunciation Guide

  at the end of the book.

  Chapter 1 : Jono meets Mentor

  Jono had seen as many summers as all his fingers plus two. He had a pleasant face. He had a straight nose and one eyebrow for each eye. He did not have any scabs or scars or any broken or missing teeth. Slim and fit, Jono was a little shorter than most boys of his age who lived on an island in the Middleland Sea.

  Lying on his right side, Jono was awake but his eyes were shut. He rolled onto his back. He stretched his tanned arms behind his shaggy black hair. He let his arms lie on the yellow grass for a moment; then he opened his eyes.

  The morning was warm. Eos had chased Nyx’s darkness from the world. Helios was on Jono’s right. Helios had barely begun his day’s march across the sky. Upon the robe of Eos were two score of clouds. Long, thin, prickly and purple, the clouds were arching and stretching — like caterpillars — from the west to the east.

  Around Jono the larks were chirping. The crows were cawing. The gulls were screeching. The sheep and the goats were muttering. High above Jono a hawk was circling.

  Jono threw off his sheepskin cover. He rose to his feet beside his sheepskin bed. He looked north. He yawned. He stretched his arms wide. He straightened the goatskin that he was wearing round his waist.

  North of Jono, for a distance of several times a stone’s throw, was a pasture. Beyond the pasture was rocky, rising ground. Beyond the rising ground were hills. East and west of Jono, the pasture stretched for half a score of stone’s throws. On the pasture’s north side, small flocks of sheep and goats were nibbling the dry grass.

  Slim, tanned Middlelander boys were scattered by twos and threes across the pasture. Most of the boys were within two summers of Jono’s age. Most were standing. Some were adjusting the goatskin that each had around his waist. Some were rolling up their sheepskin beds. Some boys were drinking from water-skins. Most of the boys were close to oak trees, which dotted the pasture north and east of Jono.

  Jono turned. His bare feet took a few steps toward the south. He gazed upon the calm, shining sea. Jono’s short fingers combed his long, thick hair. His fingers caught some bits of grass, which he threw aside. He looked down.

  Below Jono were cliffs. Below the cliffs, close to the sea, was a village. The village had one score of houses. Of one story, the houses were of mud and stone. Their roofs were of thatch — mostly grass with some seaweed. In the village ducks were quacking and dogs were barking.

  Jono turned westward. He looked at his sleeping younger brother Lampus. Lampus was a little more than one summer younger than Jono. Lampus had a pleasant face with an unremarkable nose. He had two dark scabs, each the size of a mosquito, side-by-side on his chin.

  Jono took the several steps that put him beside Lampus, who was lying with his head toward the sea and with his back toward Jono. Jono’s left foot gave Lampus a quick kick in the kidneys. Lampus groaned loudly into wakefulness. Jono barked, “Get up!” Jono returned to his sheepskins. He threw one sheepskin round his shoulders. He rolled the other. He carried the roll to an oak that was half a score of strides northeast of him. He fixed the roll among the faded leaves in the lower branches. He took up his water-skin, which was near the roll. He took a drink and replaced the water-skin. He took up a leather bag that was next to the water-skin. He put his right hand into the bag. He retrieved a fist-sized hunk of barley-cake out of which he took a bite. Facing west, he sat with his back toward the oak. With his food-bag in his lap, he ate.

  Wrapped in one sheepskin and carrying another, Lampus plodded toward the oak that shaded Jono. Like Jono and the other boys, Lampus was wearing only a goatskin under the sheepskin wrap. Lampus stuck his sheepskin bed into the oak’s lower branches on the tree’s south side. He drank from a water-skin that he had stored there. When Lampus had had his fill of water, he returned the water-skin to where it had been. He grabbed a leather bag that was beside his water-skin. From the bag, he brought forth a house-mouse-sized chunk of cheese out of which he took a bite. Lampus lowered himself on the oak’s south side. With his food-bag in his lap, he ate.

  Without looking at Lampus, Jono remarked, “Your hair is sticking out.”

  Lampus licked the palm of his right hand. He smoothed his bushy, unruly hair.

  Lampus finished eating ahead of Jono. Lampus stood. He fixed his food-bag in the lower branches. He returned to the spot where he had been sitting. Standing, he looked at Jono. Lampus said sternly, “You don’t have to kick me. If you kick me again, I’m going to box your ears. I’m as big as you are. Don’t think I won’t!” Lampus sat. He gazed southward.

  Jono turned toward Lampus. Jono’s mouth was open, but he did not say anything. Jono closed his mouth. He stared at the sea for a moment; then he gazed westward.

  A yellow leaf fell on Jono. Jono’s left hand picked up the leaf. He studied it while he ate. When he had finished his meal, Jono cast the leaf aside. Jono put himself on his feet. He put his food-bag on a branch. He stood against the oak’s trunk. He put his right ear against the rough bark. He pressed himself against the tree. He embraced it.

  Squinting, Lampus peered at his older brother. Lampus snapped, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I was wondering if I could hear the dryad.”

  “Well?”

  “It seems no one is at home.” Jono sat. He studied a black beetle near his right foot. A thick, knobby root blocked the beetle’s way. Jono helped the beetle over the root. Jono watched the hawk above him. “I wish it were always summer,” Jono said.

  ****

  Later that day, when Helios did not have much left of his march across the sky, Zephyrus was using a slight warm breeze to tickle the leaves. The sheep and the goats were quiet. Jono was without his sheepskin wrap. Facing west, he was sitting with his back to the oak.

  Lampus was walking from the south. Lampus sat on the south side of the oak. He gazed at the sea.

  Looking westward, Jono gaped. He raised his hands against the glare of Helios. Jono whispered loudly, “Lampie, look!”

  Lampus whined, “What do you want?”

  “Look west!”

  Rolling his eyes, Lampus sighed and turned westward. He used his hands to shield his eyes against the light. He jumped to his feet. “What are they — dragons?”

  Jono jumped to his feet. “They’re people but how could they come up the precipice?” Three beings were striding through the yellow grass toward Jono and Lampus. “We need some stones,” Jono said. He glanced round him.

  Lampus urged, “Let’s run.”

  “Wait!”

  The beings were a bearded man and two children. The three were wearing coverings that were black and shiny. The children were not much bigger than Jono. The children’s heads were bare. The man’s head was hooded.

  Besides Lampus, the shepherd who was closest to Jono was almost one stone’s throw to the northeast of him. Like all the others, that shepherd was gawking westward. Some shepherds were shouting at Jono and at Lampus, “RUN! RUN!”

  “Let’s go,” urged Lampus.

  “You go,” said Jono.

  “I’ll get some stones,” Lampus promised. He ran. All the shepherds except Jono ran eastward. Lampus ran to an oak that was twice a stone’s throw east of Jono. There Lampus had the company of two shepherds who w
ere as old as he was.

  The hooded man shouted, “Jono! Jono! Be not afraid.” Jono held his ground. The man threw back his hood. He was more than two score of summers old. His long hair, his long mustache and the long beard that almost reached his waist were white. He had big, bushy white eyebrows. His skin was pale. Neither tall nor short, he was neither fat nor thin. He had all the teeth that he should have. He did not have any scabs or scars or other signs of injury.

  Under the black cloak, the man was wearing a white billowy material that covered him from shoulder to shin. A golden cord was cinching his waist. He was wearing black boots that rose above his ankles. His hands were empty.

  The man halted when he was several steps from Jono. The man took a few moments to catch his breath. He announced, “My name is Mentor. I’m a teacher. I help people learn. These are my pupils. This is Iphitus.” Mentor nodded to his left. “And this is Helice,” he said. He nodded to his right. “Iphitus, Helice, say hello to Jono.”

  “Hello,” Iphitus said. Taller than Jono, Iphitus looked much like him. Iphitus had the same bushy black hair. He had the same tanned skin. Like Jono, he had neither bruises nor scars nor missing teeth. Like Jono, Iphitus needed to live for another summer or two to become a man.

  “Hello,” Helice said. Short black hair and square shoulders gave Helice, at a distance, a boyish look. She was paler than Jono or Iphitus. Though she was the same age as Iphitus or Jono, she was taller than the boys. Like the boys, she did not have any signs of injury. Her face was pleasant in shape and complexion.

  Iphitus and Helice were dressed alike. Each had an ankle-length hooded cloak that had ties at the neck. Each was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt that did not have any buttons. The shirt was tucked into a black skirt that had its hem below the knee. Iphitus and Helice were wearing black boots that rose well above the ankle. Iphitus and Helice were each carrying a water-skin by a leather cord that went over one shoulder.

  “Let’s go into the shade,” Mentor said. Mentor, Iphitus and Helice walked south and east round Jono. Jono followed the others. “Give me some room to walk,” Mentor directed. “Sit over there.” He pointed eastward.

  Several strides east of the oak, facing westward, Iphitus, Helice and Jono sat. Iphitus sat first. Helice sat to the right of Iphitus. Jono sat to the left of Iphitus. Iphitus, Helice and Jono leaned on their left arms and pointed their feet to their right. Iphitus and Helice took care not to sit on their water-skins.

  Jono asked, “How do you know my name?”

  Gazing eastward, Mentor responded, “Your brother and the other shepherds are becoming curious about us.”

  Jono, Iphitus and Helice turned to follow Mentor’s gaze. In each hand, Lampus had a stone that was as big as a man’s toe. He was walking steadily toward his brother. Gripping stones, other shepherds were gathering at the oak that Lampus had recently left. Lampus was almost within throwing-range when a billy goat charged at him from the north.

  Several shepherds shouted, “Look out!” Lampus turned to the south. The goat butted Lampus. Lampus went down. His stones went flying.

  The goat swung round. It charged at the shepherds who were behind Lampus. The shepherds ran eastward. The goat broke off the chase and trotted northward. The shepherds hid behind the trees.

  “There,” said Mentor, “they should let us be for a little while.” Jono, Iphitus and Helice turned to face Mentor. Mentor stroked his white beard. He said, “Jono, I run Mentor’s School of Wizardry. A school is a place for learning. I welcome boys and girls who want to learn about magic. I have the help of three other teachers.” Mentor held up his right hand to show three fingers. “I and the other teachers teach how to draw words and how to count beyond the number of your fingers and your toes. We teach how to cast spells and how to mix potions. We teach how to fly.

  “Jono, you are not like most people. You are extraordinary. You are like Iphitus and Helice and I are. Our creator has chosen you to be somebody special.”

  Chapter 2 : Titans and gods

  Mentor asked, “Jono, do you know who our creator is?”

  Wagging his chin, Jono replied, “No.”

  In a low voice Mentor said, “His name is Prometheus.” Mentor declared, “He is a Titan — one of the great beings who were living on Mother Earth before the gods and the goddesses. Do you know about the gods and the goddesses?”

  Jono nodded. “My father told me. He said the gods and the goddesses live in the sky, above a mountain, far to the north.”

  Iphitus told Jono, “They live above Mount Olympus.”

  Mentor asked Jono, “What else did your father say?”

  “He said the gods and the goddesses are mean and dangerous. They get angry if a boy doesn’t do what his father tells him, or if a boy asks too many questions, or if a boy eats too much. They can bite off a boy’s head, or feed him to a dragon, or boil him in a big pot of olive oil. That’s what my father told me.”

  Mentor coughed, “I see.” He stared into the sky for a moment. He sighed. He paced back and forth. “Jono, sometimes fathers . . . and mothers . . . say things that aren’t true. I suspect your father told you some things that are not true. I am going to begin from the beginning with what is true. If your father told you something different, what your father told you is nonsense.”

  Mentor cleared his throat. “The Titans are the fathers and the mothers of the gods and the goddesses. The Titans are old — really old — much, much older than anybody who you know. There came a time — much before Earth had any people — when the Titans didn’t hear well or see well or think well. The gods and the goddesses decided the Titans were too old to take care of Earth.

  “Our creator did not show his age as much as the other Titans did. To this day our creator thinks well, hears well and sees well. He is as healthy as the gods and the goddesses. Our creator tried to help his brothers and his sisters to make good choices. He tried to persuade his brothers and his sisters to listen to the gods and the goddesses, but the other Titans were not willing to listen. They flew into a rage whenever our creator tried to reason with them.”

  Helice observed, “They were stubborn; weren’t they?”

  “They certainly were, Helice. Our creator understood that the others were not going to change their ways. They were not going to listen to reason. They were not willing to accept that the time of the Titans was at an end. Our creator understood that the time of the gods and the goddesses had come. He realized that he had to give up on his cranky brothers and sisters. He threw in his lot with the gods and the goddesses.”

  Helice said, “The gods and the goddesses sent the other Titans away; didn’t they?”

  “That’s right, Helice. All the Titans except our creator went to a warm, dry place near the seashore. From that place they can never return.

  “One day our creator made a momentous decision. He decided Earth should have people. Our creator made the first people out of clay. He fashioned some men and he fashioned some women.”

  Helice said, “The goddess of wisdom helped; didn’t she?”

  Mentor nodded. “The goddess of wisdom put the breath of life into the clay figures. They looked like big dolls until the breath of life was in them. Besides the breath of life, the goddess of wisdom gave wisdom; that is, she made people smarter than the beasts. The first people had babies, who grew up to have more babies. People have babies the same way the gods and the goddesses have babies; but the babies of the gods and the goddesses grow very quickly.”

  Helice stated, “A baby god or goddess becomes a grown-up in one day; isn’t that right, Mentor?”

  “That’s true, Helice. A baby god or goddess grows extremely fast.” Mentor paused. “I’m sorry; I’ve lost my train of thought. What was I saying before Helice’s query?”

  “You were telling us how the creator made people,” Iphitus replied.

  “Of course I was. The people then — like the people now — were fighting and stealing and telling lies. For that
reason the king of the gods did not like people. The king of the gods was angry too because our creator did not ask for permission to create people. The king of the gods wanted everyone to ask for his permission before doing anything. To punish our creator, the king of the gods ordered him to kill all the people.”

  Helice asserted, “But our creator wouldn’t. He said no; didn’t he?”

  “That’s correct, Helice. Our creator said he was not going to kill anyone. He said the gods and the goddesses should give people plenty of time to learn that helping each other was better than fighting each other. He said it was not fair to expect people to be peaceful and honest so soon.”

  “And the king of the gods got angrier; didn’t he?”

  “He became enraged. He made the skies black. He sent down the rain. The rain came day after day. The rain became a deluge. It drowned many people and many beasts before our creator had a wonderful thought. He told his son Deucalion and Deucalion’s wife, Pyrrha, to build a big boat. Deucalion and Pyrrha built the boat. They collected an adult male and an adult female of each kind of beast. They put the beasts onto the boat. Deucalion and Pyrrha collected their neighbors. Deucalion, Pyrrha and their neighbors boarded the boat. Soon all the land was flooded. The water tossed Deucalion’s boat to and fro but the boat endured. The rain stopped. When the land was dry, only those people and those beasts on Deucalion’s boat were alive.

  “All the people who are alive today are descendants of the people who were on Deucalion’s and Pyrrha’s boat. From the time of Deucalion and Pyrrha, the people have called our creator the savior of the people because he had the idea to build the boat. May I have a drink from your water-skin, Iphitus?”

  Iphitus took off his water-skin and handed it to Mentor. Mentor untied the top and took a drink. Mentor retied the top. “Thank you,” Mentor said. He gave the water-skin to Iphitus, who set it beside him.

  Mentor used his fingers to comb his white hair backward. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did not give up,” Mentor recounted. “He wanted all the people dead. The king of the gods gave to the people a plant that easily catches fire. When the people breathed in the burning plant’s fumes, the people became silly. The people became forgetful. The people forgot how to use fire. Some people froze and some people starved before our creator realized what was happening. Our creator told people not to use the plant, and he taught them again how to use fire. Thus he saved people once more. Since then people have worshipped the creator and have called him the great Titan or the bringer of fire.”