Late one summer night, candlelight shown softly from the window of a room in a lower class inn of Wickenburg. Inside the room Dedric mumbled to himself, "someday I'm going to get admittance to the caster's academy". Dedric continued to study the disgusting scraps of parchment that he'd found in the refuse heap near the wizard's tower. It seemed like a jumble of words without meaning. How could these be the essence of magic spells?

The stench of a few failed attempts to concoct potions wafted across the room. A candle flickered and flared, briefly causing Dedric to worry that the fumes from the potions might ignite and result in a most horrible flaming end to his career of magical studies.

"Enough of this! Time for some field study.", Dedric thought to himself. He slipped the dented and scratched spyglass into a pouch and tucked it into his belt. Wrapping himself in a dark cloak he slipped out of his room. Slipping down the street, making a few twists and turns to follow a small alley, Dedric made his way to Portho's shoe shop. At the back of Portho's shop Dedric scanned around to see if anyone was watching and then quickly climbed up the slight timber protrusions of the shop, as if they were a ladder.

Once upon the roof he took out his spyglass and looked toward the wizard's tower. Looking into one room he saw a young man (Dedric thought he must be an apprentice) carefully mixing liquids.

Inside another room he spotted a man and a woman engaged in a heated discussion. Both appeared to be tall compared to another man in the background who stood quietly watching. The man was ruggedly handsome with strong features. He stood perhaps one or two inches taller than the woman. His manner was fairly commanding and Dedric was sure that most people would follow his instructions without question. The woman on the other hand seemed absolutely radiant. Her blonde hair nearly glowed and the sky blue dress she wore caught the light of the room and came to life on it's own. But nothing matched the radiance of her face. Even in the heat of what appeared to be an argument, Dedric felt she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Surely this could only be the legendary sorceress Dismey. Everyone knew of Dismey although she was not often seen. Her charisma was so strong that rumor of her presence swept through a city like the wind.

The man spoke forcefully directly in Dismey's face. Dedric could see Dismey smile in reply and he swore he could see energy crackle from Dismey's fingertips. Suddenly the man knelt and bowed, both at the same time, in front of Dismey. As he stood he backed away and left the room. As the door closed, in what appeared like a fit of anger, Dismey thrust her arms into the air and the room exploded in a silent flash of light.

Dedric dropped the spyglass and rubbed his eye trying to regain vision. Cursing at his clumsiness, Dedric fumbled around on the ground trying to recover his spyglass. Blinking away the involuntary tears Dedric put the spyglass to his other eye. The room he'd been watching was dark now, nothing further to be seen.

Another Tale of Dedric

A single sheet of wrinkled paper lay on the table which Dedric was sitting at. It was a particularly windy night, and the flickering candlelight made studying the parchment rather difficult for the mage. Once again he spent his day in a rented out room inside a low budget Wickenburg inn. The room was no longer just a dwelling, but a laboratory as well. Twisting glass-work and bubbling concoctions were arranged among towering stacks of worn books that made a labrynth of sorts. Often times Dedric himself would get confused or even lost among the interlinking tubes, bottles, and simmering brews. The room itself was very badly lit which would prove the downfall of many of Dedric's experiments. A misread vile could prove to be hazardous. On one such occasion a strange element was accidentally mixed with plain water, and caused a small scale explosion which in turn ignited many other liquids. When it was all over half of Dedric's supplies were nothing more than ashes. It was not a large set back though, and soon (to the inn owner's dismay) Dedric was back at it; slaving over the many scrolls and novels that occupied his cluttered room. Not only did it look cluttered; the burners occupying the room produced anuncomfortable temperature. It was easy to see this room would not suffice for much longer.

Yet that is where he studied on a windy Wickenburg night. Behind him he could here the boiling liquids start to cease. He had turned the burners off so that the final product may be consumed at a bearable temperature. He took one last glance at the runes on the parchment, put a weight upon it, got up, and walked towards the back of the room where a slightly blue liquid was dripping from a funnel to be collected into a drinking glass. The journey there would be considered aggrovating to a visitor, and some times even Dedric became frustratd as he attempted to delve through the glass jungle which was his room. Though, more valuable than the bottles and elixers were the books scattered around the room. The contents described supernatural events, magical occurances, and some conatained collections of what seemed to be the recepies of spells. He would spend hours, even days studying these novels and all pages within. Twice he felt he had come very close to completing a magical spell, but the outcome was uncertain. Still, he looked the same pages over again and again to maybe find something he had missed, or something that would clue him in on how he could succesfully cast a spell. He thought that he had found that clue, and it was on the sheet of paper which lay behind him alone on the table.

Eventually Dedric made his way to the glass a quarter way filled with the blue liquid. He lifted it to about his eye level, peering into it curiously. He knew it's contents, and he suspected he knew the effect it would take on him, yet he was never sure of his elixers anymore. They had gone awry one too many times in the past. They had left him in a horrid condition more than once. He swished the liquid around in the glass to check it's thickness.

"Roughly the same as water." Dedric though to himself. He dipped his finger into the solution, brang it out, and tasted it. "Bitter, as expected, a bit more sour than usual, though." He stared at the glass thoughtfully. Then, feeling more confident, pushed back his hood, brang the glass to his mouth, and drank the entire mixture.

"I hope the desired effect is achieved. If my mental abilities are enriched by this potion then maybe I can finally learn to use magic correctly." There definately was an effect. Almost immidiatly following his thought, a strange light-headedness overcame Dedric. His eyesight became clearer, but he could no longer feel the floor below him. He glanced down, and sure enough his feet were firmly planted on the dirty wooden floor below him. "Not again." He said aloud in a concerened voice. Soon enough though feeling returned to his feet, and he was able to walk back towards the table in front of the window. The wind had blown one of the candles to the floor. Luckily it was not lit when it reached the floor. Dedric, still recovering from his failed potion, simply sat down and rigorously studied the piece of parchment. The wind was wistling an eerie tune which Dedric found very distracting as well as frightening. Unable to bear it any longer he climbed atop his table and attempted to close the rusted window. No luck. The window meerly creaked as he tugged on it with all his might. Defeated, he sat back down at the table. Immidiatly the wind picked up and blew out the other candle; Dedric laughed at the irony of the situation. Now with only the moonlight to guide him he bent over to search for the candle that had fallen before. Yet as he bent over his head wracked with pain and blackness overcame him. He fell to the floor in darkness and lay there for quite some time.

Dedric awoke to the shouts of men outside of his window.

"Something is wrong." He thought. Reacting quickly, and clumsily, he grabbed what he considered a spell scroll and ran outside. The mens' armor was glistening in the light of their torches. It was easy to tell the orcs were about tonight. "And what a night." He thought. "The wind is horrifying in itself, and now we have orcs to accompany it. This night is truly haunting." He dimly wished he was still unconsious on the floor of his room.

The men were moving forward, and Dedric (in his curious nature) followed, scroll in hand, behind them. Fear built up in him and he wished to rush forward towards them, but then he remembered he was clad in his robes.

"A cloaked being rushing towards a group of armed men desevred nothing more than an arrow in the chest." He thought, and clenched the scroll tighter in his hand. He continued to follow as silently as he could. They passed the town gates. Dedric followed more closely now for there were no more lights, save the moon, other than the torches the men were holding. He could now clearly see four men, which were clad in fine chain mail, eached armed with a sword and shield. Two followed behind, they were constantly glancing from side to side for a sign of the enemy; they were clad in leather and armed with bows. The smell of smoke grew thick; the men quickened their pace.

Dedric could see a fire growing in the distance. He became exhausted very quickly, he was not accustomed to long jogs, and his long robes were constantly tripping him up. Eventually, though, they all arrived at a plot of burning farm land. The farm house seemed to be aflame for quite a while. The roof had already caved in and the flames grew very tall within it. The men pointed towards the house. They seemed to be debating what their first move was going to be. Dedric crept closer so that he could hear what they were discussing. A strong voiced man who wore a red sash seemed to be the leader of the party.

"There may be survivors!" The sashed man's voice boomed.

"Don't speak nonsense. Look the roof is missing, and the house is gutted by flame. Even if they escaped the fire the orcs would be waiting for them outside. Speaking of orcs... Where are they?" Voiced another armor clad man who oddly enough did not wear a helmet, and his long blonde hair flowed down to his shoulders.

"We need to be concerned about the people of our village first, the orcs will be dealt with swiftly and easily." The sashed man replied. An argument erupted and for a while Dedric could not decipher what was being said. Finally the sashed man silenced them all."There is no time for argument, let's make our way to the cottage." He said. They all seemed to agree, though some seemed spiteful towards the sashed man.

A collapse of what remained of the roof caught everyone's attention; suddenly they were sprinting towards the cottage. The archers broke off and flanked both sides of the house, apparenlty unafraid of any orc attack. Dedric stumbled after them, but he was very fatigued and fell far behind. His robe caught under his foot in mid stride causing him to crash loudly to the ground. The dust flew up around him, stinging his eyes. His knee ached badly; he thought he would not be able to walk. Still, he stood up and peered at his hands which had took most of the fall. Blood beeded on both palms and his right forearm was badly scraped. He limped after the knights, but they were nowhere to be found. He made his way towards the house. Soon Dedric could feel the heat of the fire as he leaned against a tree adjacent to the flaming cottage. He could also hear the shouts of the men somewhere behind it. He limped in that direction.

As he passed the house the sound of the fire drowned out all other sounds. The wood creaked in horendous screeches. Once or twice Dedric mistaked them for the screams of the family who lived there. The wall of the cottage came crashing down, it was apparent there would be no survivors of this fire that were not already out of the house. He could see the wooden skeleton of the house now and that was all that remained. All of the decorations and furniture were nothing but ashes. When Dedric got to the back of the house he noticed that a wall had not fallen down. Not only that there was a doorway still intact. A spiderweb of chains and locks covered it; the family must have been trapped and burned alive by the orcs. Dedric had no time to mourn, or even pity them, for his knee coarsed with pain.

Dedric heard the shouts coming from a field directly in front of him. He headed for it as fast as his damaged leg would carry him. He could see their torches above the tall grass, and he heard the clash of steel. The battle had begun. Dedric quickened his pace for the light of their torches meant safety; he did not much like being alone with a band of orcs on the prowl. Suddenly he was knocked to the ground. He peered up through the grass and his eyes met with that of an orc. The pain in his knee was gone now, and a steady rush of adrenaline now surged through his veins. The orc was terrifying. It's teeth protruded out over it's upper lip. It's deep eyes rested in a wrinkled scowl. It wore no armor except what rags it could gather to protect it from the elements, yet it's muscles were clearly toned and appeared very powerful. It weilded a crude mace of some sort. Dedric quickly scrambled to his feet. His thoughts were scrambled. He had no protection, no weapon, he was exhausted, and had a useless knee. The orc on the other hand looked quite ready for a fight, and charged towards him.

"The scroll!" Dedric thought. He pulled it out of his pocket, and quickly glanced at it. Three words stood out: Surak ibn cabal. In his desperation he spoke the words aloud. "Surak ibn cabal!" He shouted. A minor explosion took place directly in front of him, and a force threw him on his back. He touched his face, it was wet with blood. Pain wracked his entire upper body. The orc was unharmed; it was still charging full speed at him. "I failed, again..." Dedric thought. The blood leaked into his eyes, so he clenched them together and awaited the fatal blow. The orc was upon him then, and the mace crashed into his left leg. Dedric screamed in pain, and opened his eyes to see the orc lifting the mace again. This time it would not miss. Dedric winced and felt blood spray upon his face. Yet there was no pain. He opened his eyes to see a decapitated orc fall limply next to him. The unhelmed knight stood above him, with a look of confusion and concern on his face. The man reached down, picked up Dedric, and ran back towards the cottage. Dedric grew very light headed. He could feel the blood pouring out from his left leg. The unhelmed man ran with Dedric on his shoulder pass the house into a grove of trees in which he layed Dedric. Dedric managed to croak a "thank you" out of his blood choaked throaght before the unhelmed man could leave. The man turned around and beamed a smile at him, and then ran back towards the battle field. Dedric fell unconcious soon after.

He awoke to the healthy face of a young nurse. She had long, dark hair that went to her mid back. She was attractive, and Dedric stared at her for quite some time before he spoke.

"Where am I?" He asked.

"Oh!" The young nurse said; surprised to see him awake. "I feared the worse, you've been unconcious here for days. The church that is. We're in one of the church's chaimbers."

"That's nice." Dedric replied, he was far too exhausted to think of anything else.

"Indeed it is for you. You should feel lucky. By the time you arrived you were close to death, and it was very difficult to contain the bleeding."

"That's nice.." Dedric replied once more, now dozing off. He was not concerned so much about his condition as his magical ability. "I was close. I felt the magic surge through me, but I failed. Somehow... I failed..." Dedric thought. He fell asleep for quite some time afterwards.

In his sleep Dedric's dreams took him back to his childhood. At the age of five Dedric's coarse black hair had already grown quite long, ending about half way down his back. He was sitting inside of a pub gazing out of the window at the road outside. He loved to watch all the men in their armor, and the women in their elegant dresses. He often did this whenever his parents went to the pub, which was getting to be an almost daily occurance. While his parents were getting drunk at the bar he would sit there by himself for what seemed like hours gazing out the window.

Today the bar was roudier than normal, and Dedric longed to leave it's noisy inhabitants. Having no real reason to go, he stayed. That is until a strange man passed by the window. He was very old, and he wore long robes that dragged on the dirty road. He walked with a large staff in his right hand, and in his left a worn book. The old man seemed a bit out of place among the commoners of the town, and Dedric had never seen such an odd man. He took particular interest in the robed man as he walked by, studying evey inch of his grey cloak, taking notice of his dirty leather boots, and gazing at his intricately carved staff.

As he passed one of the pages of the book fell out; the man did not notice, but Dedric did. Having a good reason to leave the pub (and with the knowledge that his parents would not notice) he quickly ran through the crowded, stinking groups of people and into the road. It was a rainy day which he particularly enjoyed. Dedric loved to listen to the rain as it hit his roof when he went to bed, and he specifically loved the way the rain enriched the color of all it touched; washing the dirt away. Unfortunately his excitement to leave the bar caused him to trip in the mud and slide half way across the road. Being a young boy he did not mind much, but what he did mind was the carriage he slid pass. It was slowly reaching the paper on the road that the old man had dropped, and it would soon be trampled and torn if he did not reach it first.

Dedric got up, slipped again, and gave chase to the carriage which was now very close to the sheet of paper the old man dropped. He sprinted all the way there, but it was not fast enough. The paper was trampled by the leading horses. Dedric stood in the road a while cursing his luck, but eventually decided to give the sheet back to the old man anyways. He dragged his feet all the way to it's location, but to his surprise the paper was not damaged at all. It appeared that it had just been printed seconds before he got that. He grabbed the paper, and ran after the old man who was still strolling slowly up the road. When he reached the cloaked figure, Dedric tugged his robes. The old man slowly turned around, and greeted Dedric with a broad, wrinkled smile.

"You dropped this." Dedric said and handed him the paper.

"Why thank you young man." The old man said as he tucked it back into his book. Then laughing the old man said, "Look at you, You're a mess!"

"I slipped when I was trying to get it." Replied Dedric, somewhat embarassed.

"Well then," the old man said playfully. "We'll just have to fix that." The old man grabbed Dedric on the shoulder, and lead him into a alleyway. "Stand right there." He said, pointing to a cobblestone walkway. Dedric stood silently, and motionless. The man whispered a few words, and suddenly blue light trickled from his fingertips. Dedric looked up and saw the same blue light falling upon him like a mist. As it fell the wet mud was washed away from his clothing; leaving him feeling very refreshed. It drifted to his feet, and appeared to soak into the ground upon reaching it. The mist and the mud were now totally gone. Dedric gazed up at the old man in pure wonder who was simply standing there, leaning on his staff, smiling at the young boy.

"H - How'd you do that!" Dedric exclaimed.

"Magic." The old man replied jokingly, winking at Dedric. " You helped me, so I helped you. Simple as that. Now go to your parents; being all nice and clean now I'm sure they'll be glad to see you." The old man laughed again as he began to walk back up the road.

"Thank you!" Dedric yelled after the old man, who turned around and waved goodbye. Dedric quickly ran back towards the bar. He was almost bursting with joy, and couldn't wait to share his expirience with his parents. Not noticing the big puddle in front of the bar, his feet were once again pomptly taken out from under him, and he went diving back into the mud. He sat up in the mud teary eyed. "Now they won't believe me!" He cried aloud, and smacked a fist into the mud. " I geuss I just won't tell them." He said, clearly dissapointed, as he passed through the doors of the pub.

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"A wizard!" Dedric shouted. "I wish to be a wizard!"

Sighs could be heard circling the table. Everyone knew that he was going to make another one of his childish wishes on his birthday, but they could always hope otherwise. Dedric was ten years old that day, and many of his relatives came to visit on this special occasion. All nine guests were sitting at the table, but Dedric was standing upon the chair at the head of it with his fork raised to the stars. It was raised proudly, with dignity, but the table was now silent, and Dedric's mother looked up at him with concern.

"When are you going to grow out of this?" She asked, frustrated with his annual embarassments.

"When I am a wizard." Dedric stated confidently.

Once again sighs rolled around the table accompanied by head shaking and mumbles. Dedric was born into an upper class family in Hadren. His father owned a famous baking business, thus he wanted Dedric to take it over. Yet his obsessiveness in wizardry and the supernatural made it apparent, even at this age, that it may not happen. Dedric had spent many days with his father at the bakery, and he hoped that Dedric would show some interest in it which he did at the beginning. He learned how to bake a few small items, but like an old toy he soon grew out of it. His father was soon forced to retire from achy hands; his closest friend, Aldor, took his position until Dedric could jointly take over the business with his Aldor's daughter, Atalia. Worried as he was, Dedric's father looked up at him.

"Don't you want to be wealthy? What does a mage have to offer that a baker doesn't? If you took over the bakery you could keep the business in the family. You could buy all the scrolls and spells you wanted. You could be rich!" His father pleaded desperately.

"No! I don't want to be a baker. I think I would make a much better wizard." Dedric replied, studying his fork, and then licking the frosting from it.

"Here," his father said. "I have something for you. In a way it's a mix of both things, magic and baking." He unveiled a mess of tubed and viles. "It's an alchemy set. If you're going to practice magic of some sort, use this to make some rocks into gold. If you can get this to work, forget baking bread!" He laughed, and the whole table, including Dedric, joined him. "I know it's only an ameture set, but if you work with it and build on it, maybe you could figure it out. You're a smart boy."

He was a bright child indeed. His parents put him in a tutoring program at the age of six, and the tutor declared that he was a few years ahead of the other children she taught. This came as no suprise to his parents, because he could already read quite well. Better than his mother in fact. Not to mention that he was constantly defeating whoever opposed him at the chessboard. Also, they had found some stories he had written, about wizards of course, which had also been exceptionally well done for his age. They had submitted them to a local book keeper for review, who (after a few revisions) made them into children's books. One was called "The tale of Goron", and the other "Oldur's travels".

Dedric climbed down from his chair, and gave his dad a hug. He had took his first step towards learning the art of magery, and he was quite satisfied. He gave his mom a kiss on her cheek, and thanked everyone for their wonderful gift, especially his father. Then he went to work on turning an ordinary pebble into a gold nugget.

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The smell of garbage was almost overwhelming, yet it had to be tolerated. Searching in the waste pile outside of the wizard's tower was the only way Dedric could get any sort of document pertaining to magic.
He already had quite a large collection of books about magic in general, but the ones he got from the wizard's tower were always beyond his comprehension. Still, he spent quite a large amount of time studying each one.

His alchemic just as his collection of books did. He put together a set to fit his needs as his knowledge about elixers and potions grew. It was nothing to behold, but it was much larger than the one he recieved from his dad seven years earlier. In fact he built on to what his dad had given him, and it had become the centerpiece of his whole collection. Though he did not live with his parents any longer (or wish to) it served as a reminder to how far he had come in his studies.

Suddenly Dedric heard footsteps coming from his left. He grabbed a pile of dirty papers and ran as fast as he could in the direction of his cabin. His robes proved to be very combersome once again, and he was not sure if the guards, or whoever they may have been, had heard him. It was quite a long way to the cabin, but being in his teens, he could easily manage the run. He avoided the main roads of town, and instead flew down the damp alleyways. It was very easy to lose ones footing in them, Dedric had learned, but he became used to the trail, and effortlessly hurdled boxes and walls. After hurdling the last barrier, it was safe to walk the rest of the way to the cabin. His boots and robe were wet with old rain water, and whatever liquid happened to collect in the alleyways, making it a very uncomfortable walk home.

The trail that lead to the cabin was dark and extremely hard to find. Dedric would often have trouble finding it, even though he had been using it for years. Not only was the trail hard to find, but the trail itself was difficult to follow. It twisted and turned for apparently no reason, but it had to be followed, for it was all too easy to become lost in the forest outside even in pure daylight. Dedric found this path to be challenging and in some way adventurous. He loved a challenge, and no path in all of Wickenburg was harder to follow than the one he was taking. Although, few ever learned of the trail's existance.

Dedric had moved to the cabin at age fourteen with Atalia. Whom he had met at his father's bakery when the business transaction was made with Aldor. She did not feel much like going into the baking business either, so they both agreed to run away to Wickenburg. Ironically enough, Atalia got a job as a baker, and a wonderful one at that. Her father taught her all there was to know about baking as to prepare her for her enterance into the field. It wasn't the job she wanted, but it had to do; they needed money. Dedric, with his knowledge about brewing chemicals, got a job as a brewer of beverages. He supplied the local bars with beer, wine, and other liquors. Eventually they managed, with the help of many friends they made, to construct a cabin of sorts beyond the monarch's teritory. The cabin was meant to be secluded so that nobody would find out that an unmarried man and woman were living together.

The cabin was extremely small, but Dedric had pride in it all the same. For he had managed, without the help of his parents, to lead a life of his own choosing. Atalia and Dedric enjoyed eacother's company in that small cabin. They remained friends and only that. Though, on more than one occasion they had been rather close to kissing. He definately cared for Atalia, but he knew it would never work out under the current conditions, so he simply let it remain a friendship.

It was her that he saw first when he approached the cabin. She was crossing the path of the window apparently preparing dinner. Likewise, she saw him approaching and opened the window and shouted:

"Dinner is ready! Dinner is..... Dinner.."

Dedric was awake once more and the maid had left his dinner next to him on a tray. His body was in extreme pain, and he wished he was dreaming once more. He missed the cabin and Atalia dearly, and dreaded awaking from dreams involving them. Accepting his conscious reality he leaned over and began to eat the soup left for him by the maid.