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The Magus Trilogy.com
Category:
Fantasy
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
ISBN-10: 1484835999
Type: Fiction
Pages: 302
Copyright: August 15th, 2013
ISBN-13: 9781484835999
Price: $8.99 (eBook)
A master wizard who has retired from his duties must come back into his role of protector when a vile army of demonic battle wolves escapes from prison with the intention of killing the land's people.
For Magus Cirrus, life had settled into a quiet, peaceful retirement in the town of Silver Ending. An elite wizard and former protector of the kingdom as a member of the White Sword Masters, he is enjoying leaving behind the arduous adventures of keeping the peace, battling ferocious dragons, and fighting the spirits of warlords long thought dead. Life simply couldn’t get any better…until the arrival of a mysterious letter. The ancient army of battle wolves known as the Teverets, long imprisoned in an escape-proof jail, has somehow managed to escape; the wolves are now in search of their shadow-covered leader. Once they find him, they plan on hunting down Cirrus and killing him before taking over the land and running the capital city. Armed with his magic cane and golden blade, the elite wizard is forced back into his role of protector as assassins trail his every move, waiting for their chance to bring down the legendary Magus Cirrus. What they don’t know is that what he has lost in speed and quickness he has more than made up for with wisdom and experience. Will Cirrus defeat them? Or will their superior numbers be too much for the older wizard? The only way to find out is for the wizard to meet his mortal enemy head-on.
Excerpt
The old man walked along the edge of a frozen pond. The man’s breath, now mist, swirled around him as he continued onward toward his home. His green hooded cloak was lightly dusted with the soft white flakes that were slowly descending from the night sky. The elderly man’s walking cane left small marks in the snow-covered, hard ground as he walked onward. The moon, a waxing one, shone through the branches of a great oak. Somewhere over the hills of snow, a lone frost wolf howled his great greeting to the ball of light illuminating the black sky. Soft clouds of wispy white went across the winter sky, as if they were racing. In the black, snowy distance, mountains could be seen standing tall and snow-covered against the harsh temperature. These particular mountains had, long ago, formed a giant circle that enclosed the nearby forest. It was said some sort of magic had formed them.
The old man was in a land known as Tinsmoke. Most all of the land was covered by a large mix of towns, fields, lakes, streams, and green-colored forests.
The old man was named Cirrus the Magus. And, at the moment, he was returning to his home in the village of Silver ending, after a nighttime walk with the moon.
The Magus was thin and quite tall, with broad shoulders and a wise, slightly wrinkled face with straight eyebrows. The eyebrows had a bit of white in them, but you could call them gray.
His short hair was a light-gray color, as was his short beard. However, the beard was lightly flecked with white and seemed to sit as still as stone unless a breeze changed its position. Cirrus had silver eyes that seemed to glisten in any sort of light. They appeared like bright silver-gray stars. His voice was soft and very calm—an unusual trait for a Magus.
Upon his thin, tall body, the old Magus wore two neatly made light-brown robes that were rimmed with light blue at the sleeves and the bottom. His robes fell to his light shoes, which left a print so light you could miss it in a blink, and were drawn in close around him. A gray belt set in the middle with a shining golden buckle was wrapped around his waist. And on his gray head, a black wide-brimmed pointed hat was perched, flicking back ever so slightly as he limped with his cane. In addition to his clothing, the old man wore light-gray shoes with stars and moons printed in dark silver upon them, and a dark-green hooded traveling cloak clasped together in the front with a sword-shaped blue brooch.
Cirrus continued along the pond and met the road again near a sign that read in large, faded golden print: “Town up ahead: Silver ending. Population number: twenty-nine thousand.” The old man sighed and paid a glance up at the bright stars that were set like small dots in the sky. How they sparkled and gleamed was incredible. It was as if the sky was pocked with a sharp pencil. Then, the Magus started on again toward the village, his cane tracking him in his wake.
Suddenly, the old Magus felt the presence of something evil watching him. He immediately spun around and summoned a giant ball of silver flame in his left hand, his cane glowing a blue-red color in his right. Nothing. Absolute silence had fallen since the Magus had stopped walking over the crunchy snow. Silence. Down the path he had come by, there were only cane tracks dotted around and up the road.
Cirrus stayed perfectly still, like a stone, for a moment, his long green cloak slightly pulled back in the breeze. When he whipped around to the right, eyes flashed in the moonlight.Standing there, enormous black claws outstretched, making deep slits in the snow, was a giant charcoal-colored wolf. It had small, pointed ears and a fierce jaw set with many a razor-sharp tooth, ready to bite down on something. Its beady black eyes flashed in the moonlight as it stared at its enemy. It had a long charcoal tail, the same color as its body, which draped down into the fluffy white snow, making a smaller slit.
It leaped just then into the air, making for Cirrus, eyes ablaze and claws glinting in the moon’s powerful glow.
However, the Magus, though old, was not slow. He jumped backward, quickly raised his arm, whipped his cane up over his attacker’s fur-covered head, and brought it down with a crack like two rocks meeting each other.
The brilliant-red color in his cane turned transparent and then reappeared, the results of its metamorphosis into a potent white beam. It flew straight forward just then and struck the wolf in the throat, driving it into the snowy pathway. A shower of sparkling snow shot up and lightly hit the attacker on the face. The wolf howled in pain and leaped back up, eyes gleaming with returning anger, claws ready, tail flicking.
The Magus gave a cry. The ball of silver flame was thrust forward by his hand and struck the wolf before he could do anything whatsoever.
This time, the wave of force from the fire striking its mark sent the vile attacker flying into the forest trees alongside the pathway. It crashed into an oak with a small squawk, the body’s weight snapping branches into bits. A fire began to bore a hole in the tree. This was stopped by the Magus with a wave of his cane and the water that came out of it.
Well, a wolf in these parts, thought Cirrus to himself, as he picked up his cane, which was lying in a nearby silver snow pile. This is not welcome news at all.
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