Welcome to DragonLance Saga Readings. Today I am reading Mishap Investigations by David Paul Holloway from Dragons of Ash and Twilight. Originally distributed on May 6, 2026. You can pick up a copy here: https://dlsaga.com/dragons-of-ash-and-twilight/
About Dragons of Ash and Twilight
Step into a world where the echoes of ancient wars collide with the desperate struggles of a new age. Dragons of Ash and Twilight is a pulse-pounding anthology of original short stories, exploring the raw edges of a realm defined by high stakes, dark magic, and the heavy price of destiny.
From the embers of a broken pantheon to the frontlines of a world at war, this collection pushes the boundaries of the DLSaga. Experience the grit of legendary battles, the brilliance of forgotten sorcery, and the untold stories of those living in the shadow of giants.
Epic in scope. Uncompromising in spirit.
Whether you are a devoted chronicler of high fantasy or a newcomer drawn to the flame, this is where the saga continues.
Mishap Investigations
by David Paul Holloway
Chapter One: Morning Routine
Even before the soundless rise of the Sun an audible sound of grinding cogs and gears, ticks and clanks of clockwork, whirs, and slurps of pumps and devices could be heard throughout the whole mountain. Amazo sat in the newly invented underground tubular lightning capsule (TLC) transport and admired the beautiful steam vents pouring new life into the city’s atmosphere. Through the small spherical window of triple-reinforced glass, Amazo had an inspiring view of his smog-filled metal-latticed honeycombed housing city. Everywhere a good gnome looked, vents and pipes bringing fresh air and much-needed clean water to the hive city. Now the classic gnome catapults were still the fastest way through the city, but if you wanted an easy ride where you could probably catch an hour or more of sleep, this was your transport of choice.
His home slowly came to life once more. Never actually stopping, it churned through the night, awaiting steam kettle hour. The TLC could take you from the base of the mountain to the fifth level from the top in just three short hours. There was a kind of reasoning for not going to the fourth, something about a traveling ambassador from the distant land mentioning the number 4 being unlucky.
Amazo’s stop was the 27th level of the city. This level housed the famous guilds like the “Power Grid Authority,” the “Pneumatic Gnomatic Transit,” and “The Structural Integrity of the Second Try,” and of course Amazo’s own “Guild of Mishap Investigations” (or GMI for short). Off he went into the hustle and bustle of the early gray. Right away, Amazo could smell and almost taste past the geothermal air and metal tang, a delicious breakfast roller or broiler sandwich.
The guild hall was like any other office in the city, having pipes, geothermal vents and worked volcanic walls. Unlike most, it sported some of the new Ezidon’s Electricko static light fixtures, pouring pale, flickering light through the eight-story building. Giving a respectful nod to the front desk clerk–even though he was leaning quite heavily on his palms. Amazo clocked in, which automatically unlocked his workshop room. In a mechanical and happy manner, he casually flicked on the Synchronized Percolating Awareness Rejuvenation Kit (SPARK). A 3-in-1 drink / clock / familiar perch. The click-whirr-tick of the SPARK was fast becoming the most popular beverage in the city, a frothy, steaming mug of ‘zap!’ As Amazo unpacked his suitcase, he heard the click-whirr-tick of his other device. Mimicking the sound of the popular drink apparatus, a very lifelike brass and silver clockwork hawk stirred to life. The familiar was an anomaly, or in non-gnome lingo, an arcane magical familiar usually reserved for the likes of a wizard’s pet.
Amazo built his most precious friend while in the grip of a whirlwind of ingenuity and excitement. Having spent a year in research cloistered within a secluded wing of the guild office. Brassbones, the Guild master, had shown and given him access to the confiscated and forgotten items that the guild had procured over the years. Wing-nut was Amazo’s first successful device once he started down the path of investigating magical illusions and the unexplained dispersal of his Uncle Zap. Wing-nut was a masterpiece of miniaturization, much like a clock with many gears and springs. Its wings were made of shiny brass interspersed with silver to help fill out its feathers. In the middle of its chest was a diamond which on Amazo’s instructions would emit a bright spot light. This often helped Amazo when he was in tight spaces. Its eyes were precious gems that could change color depending on Wing-nut’s mood. It didn’t require food but it did require regular maintenance and a daily winding. Amazo produced a brass skeleton key from a pocket of his leather apron. He then inserted the key into Wing-nut’s chest. After a minute, there was a slight double click that signaled that the brass bird was fully wound. At once, it stretched and flapped its metal wings and began hopping and clicking as if happy.
Wing-nut’s Progress Report: My little friend is once again exhibiting habits that resemble true feelings.
The brass bird hopped straight on Amazo’s shoulder. Amazo could hear its tiny talons connect with the shoulder plate Amazo had fashioned. “Hold on there, buddy!” He firmly secured Wing-nut in place. Right away Wing-nut made a whirr-whirr noise the same as the SPARK’s.
Note: The mimicry of the SPARK tower suggests cohabitation of familiar objects can be catalysts for language. Perhaps I should introduce actual birds to Wing-nut so it could get a real sense of how flesh and blood avian creatures communicate.
Wing-nut’s head tilted as if listening. After a minute of staring at each other, the brass bird moved its beak and sensory receptors towards the SPARK tower. Amazo’s eyes followed to a nice, fresh mug of steaming zap! Not too long after enjoying the tasty mug of zap and studying his spells that would be the most practical for a “claim scene.” Often he would cast such spells as Phantom Image to recreate scenarios of the mishaps he was sent to investigate. The interweaving of sorcery with his scientific analysis would produce heretical but uncannily accurate accounts of incidents. Amazo made his way to claim arrivals. There a gray-eyed woman with glasses, fizzy hair and a stack of files in her hands turned to Amazo and tried to get him to slow down.
“Slow yourself Junior Inspector. I’ve barely had time to scan through the newest files,” she said a bit too crankily.
“Anything on refractive elements, rogue phantom images, or destructive illuminating beverages?” Amazo inquired.
“No, no, no. As I just mentioned, I haven’t yet the time to browse through the claims. Just take a seat and don’t let that bird of yours destroy anything this time,” Carol told him. While Amazo and Wing-nut waited in the office for Carol to return, his mind drifted to a long-ago mishap. Some thirty years ago when Amazo was only 42, he was working as Uncle Zap’s engineering apprentice. This was before he was a member of GMI. Uncle Zap thought why not merge science with the magic which the scientists that study it call themselves wizards. He became a practicing illusionist to help augment his scientific work. He’d conjure up the illusion of what he envisioned, saying, “If you can imagine it, then anything is possible!”
“Madness! Throw him out!” Crowds would regularly press up against the windows outside to catch a glimpse of the radical new experiments. “Wild science,” his detractors claimed. “Heinous sorcery of the most foul,” yelled others. Magic had never been looked upon favorably by gnomes. “Too reliable and dangerous,” the guilds of the mountain were wont to say, ironically enough. How can you trust what can’t be quantified? Only a few individuals within the continent held knowledge of sorcery and they guarded their knowledge in an obscure and unsophisticated manner.
Zap’s ambition and madness, as many gnomes said, had gotten the better of him. One morning he was learning how to disperse the molecules of inanimate objects when his experiment went awry. Amazo was one of three gnomes who were witness to him slowly dispersing, becoming ghostlike before disappearing all together.
“Amazo…watch…ones…wan…lecules…pat…not…end.” These were his last words as his image became more and more insubstantial. Shortly after, the GMI appeared and sealed off the workshop. Official designation: Total harmonic breakdown of physical properties and dissolution of biomass due to unanticipated effects of trans-mutational effect or sorcery. The biomass in question was Uncle Zap. The scene was declared hazardous and unfit until satisfactory safety measures were implemented and reset to workable conditions. Just one more tragic incident in a mountain full of them.
Carol was now standing in front of him, tapping his head with a file and repeatedly saying, “Junior Inspector.” Wing-nut was flying around the office, clicking nervously. Amazo shook his head to clear the memory. “And that’s the last time you cast one of your illusions in my office!” she chastised. Without realizing it, Amazo had cast a Phantom Image of his uncle’s unmaking scene. Finally getting the point that he needed to stop concentration on the spell, he let the translucent memory fade. His eyes flicked to the three figures in the illusion as it dissipated: his younger self, his friend Klink, and Brassbones.
Chapter Two: The Assignment
A tired Amazo arrived back at the office late in the afternoon. His new case assessment was summed up. Amazo made his way to his workshop. Opening the door, he found Brassbones waiting for him with one of his spell books in hand.
“I expected you back sooner,” said the guild master. In contrast to Amazo’s standard-issue ochre-colored junior inspector jacket with a coarse wool work apron uniform, Brassbones was in the finest businessman attire: a fine salamander fire-resistant jet-black overcoat with as many pockets as a jacket could conceivably bear. He wore shiny boots with the GMI logo stamped in platinum on the heels.
“I know you are about to clock off for the day, but I wanted to present you with something special that came across my desk.” In an impressive sleight-of-hand gesture, a black box appeared out of thin air in his hands. If Amazo hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn his boss summoned it with a spell. Brassbones had taught him everything Amazo knew about misdirection and sleight of hand. It still surprised Amazo to watch him in action. He opened the box to reveal a glass orb with beautiful metallic filigree wrapping all around it. At once, Amazo’s weariness was gone, replaced with curiosity. “Our inspectors confiscated this from outside of the mountain.”
After only a week, Amazo had figured out the orb was a messaging beacon of sorts. He had traced its signal way down south to a country filled with knights and humans. “I am going to need some supplies,” he stated.
“Go on,” Brassbones allowed. After a string of devices, backups, and food, Amazo requested one last thing.
“Oh, and that experimental glider confiscated last year from the Aeronautics Guild.”
“Done.”
Chapter Three: Investigating Honor
The leather reins stretched and creaked in Sir Nehemiah’s grip as he pulled back slightly on them. “Easy,” he gently spoke to his horse. The horse, trained for just this job, snorted out a puff of white air from its lungs. The cold had set in early this winter. The mighty war steed shook its majestic head and mane in eagerness to get the run and clash on with. The joust was a time-honored tradition as any there was in old knight country. The knighthood enjoyed the sport so much that it had survived a millennium of hardships and suffering.
The young knight of the order breathed through his visor. Sir Nehemiah watched as his breath poured like smoke from a chimney out of his helm. Past his hazy breath, he could see his opponent: tall and regal with that aristocratic air about him. Sir Samuel of House Long Lake was born to nobility and wealth. When they were children, the young noble had shown scorn for all those he believed to be beneath him.
Sir Nehemiah of Argrin pondered how he had gotten himself into this mess. That little noble brat just couldn’t keep his fancy mouth shut. Just because he was richer than the town did not excuse him from insulting Sir Nehemiah’s best friend, Sir Gawyn.
“Sir Gawyn has lost his nerve. The hardships of his post have taken his spirit!” he jeered, saying this ironically. Their post had been anything but eventful, but this spoiled noble still sought laughs at my friend’s expense. “We shall have to run him down with dogs. Else the next time we see Sir Gawyn, he’ll be tending a field, hiding from the world behind a bale of hay.”
Not even my oath could hold back my tongue nor my fist. “You, who speaks of duty and place, dare criticize an honorable servant of the knighthood?” Sir Nehemiah marched over and slapped Sir Samuel hard across the face with a backhand. “I challenge you to a duel for attempting to dishonor Sir Gawyn.”
Sir Gawyn had been Nehemiah’s childhood friend, and they had even joined the knighthood together the same year. Sir Gawyn was older, stronger, and wiser. He always cautioned restraint while Nehemiah would rush headfirst. They were stationed in the same location after swearing in. Then an unfortunate series of events led to our commanding officer, Captain John Theodeus, disappearing. Sir Gawyn was dead set on learning what had happened. He was told to remain at his post by far-flung and far-off command in the capital. But he couldn’t accept this lack of commitment and respect towards the man who had knighted them both. Nehemiah was the cautious one for once in this situation. He had thought the commanding knight was self-reliant and able to handle himself. Sir Gawyn said it was unnatural, that things had been changing right under their noses. No one, not even Nehemiah, could see it.
One morning when he was out at his guard post, Sir Nehemiah was seeing to his gear. Armor, weapons, and horse were a daily chore. It was required to always keep your materials ready, for no one ever knows when tragedy or danger strikes. The letter was delivered by the other knight’s squire. Gawyn had taken off in the night but left a single letter for his friend.
“My dear friend,
Don’t think me heartless to leave without so much as a word. I could not maintain my composure or patience in regards to our missing commander. I must learn what happened to him. He would do the same for us. Don’t be too hard on my squire; I made him swear not to tell a soul till two days had passed, when he handed you this letter. I wish you were here. It seems this time I am the one rushing headlong without careful thought. I will send word as soon as I find out more.
Your friend,
Sir Gawyn.”
Sir Nehemiah was shocked to hear that his friend had taken off in the night. Sir Nehemiah was already two days behind. Hard to catch up, especially since he had no idea where to go. He looked at the squire waiting patiently for Sir Nehemiah to dismiss him. “Squire, did Sir Gawyn leave any idea of where he was headed off to or towards?”
“He took off north, sir, towards the mining region. He wouldn’t relinquish any more. I think I will need to find a new knight to squire for.”
“Don’t look at me, boy! I intend to pursue my dear friend!” A quick glance out the tent flap at the sunrising landscape of Argrin. He knew what to do! He turned and began rummaging through his old training gear from back before he was knighted. They were trained to know the land they protected and read its people, but most importantly at the moment, its maps. He found his old, beat-up leather map case. Pulled out the southern border map. “I can look at what towns and villages he would like to pass through or near. Then ask around to see if anyone has seen a man like my friend. It’s still the old country, so the locals will—or should—be forthcoming with information. My friend should stick out. Even though the knighthood has been around for a millennium, it’s still uncommon to see one in day-to-day life as a peasant.”
So that is what Sir Nehemiah did. He pulled resources and readied supplies. He would find and assist his friend. Together they would find the commander. He barged from his tent and was seeing to his horse. That’s when Sir Samuel made his comment.
Unwisely, I had unwittingly put myself and my friend’s honor on the line. If I lose, Sir Gawyn will be considered a deserter and I a fool and accomplice. My honor will forever be in question. If I win, Sir Samuel will be put in his place and given an oath of silence for five years on penalty of lash and barring from the knighthood. But as I see it, no true knight shies away from a task just because he is afraid of the consequences. I must see this through.
Back on the jousting field, Sir Nehemiah was ready. “Honor is the way, the only way.” Sir Nehemiah tilted his chin down and yanked up his sturdy lance into the locked position and waited for fate.
Chapter Four: Apprentice Work
The day Arden’s life changed, he was busy inscribing a scroll for his master, Master Strickus of the White. It was one of his jobs as an apprentice, which he preferred to many others such as cleaning, cooking, and on occasion, physical labor.
One clear sunny morning in the tower’s left wing, a stern, powerful voice cawed out, “Apprentice!” Arden quickly found Master Strickus. Strickus was staring intensely at a map from the country controlled by the knighthood. The tall master, clad all in white, had a receding hairline that ruffled up pointedly past his ears. Arden had always had an impression of a great horned owl when viewing his teacher. Without looking at his apprentice, Master Strickus spoke slowly.
“Who are we, my apprentice? Scholars? Sages of ancient wisdom? Introverts? Self-proclaimed upper class towering above the ignorant masses? Too long we have remained idle up here in the tower. Too much I have ignored about the outside world. It appears that the balance is threatened again. I have received reports from my superiors that a magical anomaly has been detected in the southern reaches of knight country. Sources claim that the area shakes violently, with sickly green and yellow light pouring from their mines,” explained Master Strickus. After a brief pause, Master Strickus looked up at Arden.
“You are to travel to this town of Stillwater. Find the source of the anomaly. If possible, eliminate it. Report back to me when you have any information.” Arden looked as green as these supposed sickly lights.
“I am to go… by myself?” timidly asked Arden.
“There are duties that require my attention elsewhere. You are a bright student and have learned well. But you are in desperate need to get out and have a little bit of worldly experience. Remember your training, study your spells every day, and don’t forget to report back.”
“How will I report?” asked the apprentice.
“Here is a messaging stone. It can leave one-way messages. Read the activation incantation and speak your words.” Master Strickus handed Arden a smooth white beach stone. In the center, it had the activation word. “Study your spells, gather supplies, and prepare for the countryside,” Master Strickus commanded.
“How am I to travel? By boat? By wagon?” Arden asked.
“No, no, we haven’t the time for such simplicity,” Master Strickus replied as he finished chalking out a teleportation circle on the ground. Arden was amazed by his teacher’s attention to detail. He was a master sorcerer but also an excellent artist. His magical script was beautiful. The owl-like wizard stood up and took a step back. “Step into the circle,” he commanded.
Arden took a big breath. This was his first time teleporting anything or anywhere. He started breathing faster, and he could feel a bit of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“One last thing,” his master said. He handed Arden a leather satchel. “A wand of Scorching Ray, in case there are dangers unforeseen.”
“Unforeseen?” Arden immediately said. Then, in a blink of an eye and a bolt of lightning later, Arden was flashed from the sunny skies of his magical tower home to the dark, ominous, and torrential downpour of Stillwater.
Chapter Five: The Scrawny Friar
More than rain came to the town of Stillwater this rainy evening. A scrawny, rain-soaked man slowly opened the door to the tavern known to locals as the Scrawny Friar. Upon entering, one of the regulars laughed and pointed out how this newcomer looked like a rag doll. The drenched individual just smiled politely. He quickly looked around and spotted the fireplace. He shakily made his way there. He wrung out his brown robe as much as he could. Gareth, the old tavern owner, unconsciously stroked his long mustache, looking on with a bit of pity, and without asking, brought him a bowl of hot soup.
“Evening, sir. You sure picked one heck of a time to venture here tonight,” Gareth tried joking, handing him the precious hot bowl.
“Thank you,” shivered the cold, thin man.
“I’m Gareth. I own this fine establishment. What brings you out in the storm to a backwater place like Stillwater?” the rustic, mustached man asked.
Still holding desperately onto the bowl, Arden replied between sips of soup, “My name is Arden. I have been tasked with mapping the area around Stillwater and the mines.”
“Well then, I suggest you start after the storm passes,” suggested Gareth. Arden smiled weakly as Gareth left to tend to customers.
The knight entered the Scrawny Friar a little later with the clank of armor and the grace of a bull. Still wearing his father’s helmet, the already tall man towered over the tavern occupants. Water was pouring down from Sir Nehemiah’s family armor. Once again, the whole tavern in the common room stopped their conversations and stared at the newest stranger. Unlike the laughs and jeers Arden had received, no one spoke up to make fun of the intimidating soldier. Sir Nehemiah looked around and wiped the rain from his eyes. It was a busy night; there was only one table with three chairs that remained empty. As he walked to his chair, one could hear every click of plate, every rattle of weapons on his belt. He sat down with a controlled descent. He was exhausted but still knew he must act with dignity.
Gareth was the first to approach him. “Evening, Sir Knight. I’m sure a hot bowl of soup will warm that rain away.” Sir Nehemiah looked up at the kind barkeep. He noticed that he wore a similar mustache as he did. It was an old custom. Gareth leaned down close to Sir Nehemiah and whispered, “Honor is the way, the only way.”
That was part of his code, so here’s another knight, thought Nehemiah. At least there is a friendly face still in the old country. Gareth set down some piping hot soup. That’s when Arden presented himself to Sir Nehemiah.
“Greetings, Sir Knight. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Arden the Sage.”
Sir Nehemiah looked at the thin man. “A sage? Looks like we are both far from home.”
“Indeed. Mind if I sit with you, good Sir? I relish the opportunity to converse with a knight.” Arden was delighted to see educated company in this dank, backwards town.
A little while later, Gareth brought them both some portions of meat and bread. They both nodded, and as they were about to devour the pork legs, a loud boom came from outside. Again, everyone was quiet, waiting for what would come next. Then, in walked a tiny Amazo. Wing-nut, perched on his shoulder, shook its wings to rid itself of the rain. Both peered up at a large, oversized human bar. Everyone was staring down at these two little things. Amazo spotted the final and only unused chair, posted at Sir Nehemiah’s and Arden’s table.
Without asking, Amazo climbed up onto the human-sized chair and took a big breath. Both he and his clockwork familiar looked worn like a rusty screw. He had been air-sailing on that glider for the past two weeks. Before leaving, he had estimated his chances of making it here successfully at a mere thirty-five percent. When he got caught in the storm, that dropped to fifteen percent. He must thank the incredible gnome who invented that steadfast glider. Years of chasing mishaps and avoiding near-death traps had taught Amazo to be quick and learn how to roll even at high speeds. So when the storm sent a rapid and sudden downdraft which sent the glider crashing down into the side of this oversized tavern, Amazo pulled the first, and then when that failed, the second safety cord. He dropped from the harness and bounced from building to building like a rubber ball from the Toy Guild. Luckily, Wing-nut was away from the glider at the time and safely landed within arm’s reach of him. Wing-nut pecked at Amazo’s pilot cap until he opened his eyes.
Now Amazo found himself staring at two humans. One clad in steel-plated armor from an age ago. The other, a damp, brown-robed thin man who was staring intensely at his bird.
“GreetingsI’mAmazo.IamfromtheGuildofMishapInvestigations.ThisisWing-nut,” Amazo rapidly produced in his normal voice. Looking back and forth between the two with their look of bewilderment, he remembered what Brassbones had said about slowing it down for the outside world. With another big but slower breath, he began again: “Greetings, my name is the inconceivably confounding, spontaneously combusting, Amazing Professor Amazo!” He took another breath. “But you may call me Amazo. I am from the Guild of Mishap Investigations. This is Wing-nut.”
“Well met… Amazo. I am Sir Nehemiah of Argrin,” the knight replied after a moment. Normally, Amazo would have a hundred questions for the human knight. Everything ranging from how many pieces of metal his aging armor contained, to what one required to eat to sustain Sir Nehemiah’s large frame, to how many giants he had personally slain. Being tired, all he could muster was just one inquiry about an anomaly of lights he spotted while gliding.
Arden spoke up, also latching onto the word anomaly. “Dear professor, I am afraid we both are new to this town and area as well. So unfortunately, we have no clue as to your inquiry. Though I am very curious about your bird. He is a fascinating toy. Is it entirely made of metallic materials?” Arden questioned, again not taking his eyes off Wing-nut.
As Amazo began going through the specs of his friend, they all started noticing a slight shake of their table. The shake quickly turned into a tremor as the whole establishment shook for a brief moment, then calmed. Arden looked at Gareth and asked, “Does this place get earthquakes often?”
“No, I’ve been tending the Scrawny Friar for over ten years. Never has an earthquake bothered us. These shakes are very recent. They started occurring when the first ghost lights appeared.”
The door to the Scrawny Friar slammed open, and a middle-aged woman rushed in. She looked around the room until she spotted Gareth. She hurriedly spoke to him and burst into tears. Gareth then knocked on the floorboards.
“My grandson Pippin has ventured up into the Cinder Mines to get a glimpse of the ghost lights that have plagued our town. He went up earlier before the storm but has not returned. His mother and I fear for his safety. Who will help go after and rescue my grandson?” Gareth pleaded.
At once, Sir Nehemiah stood up tall and determined. “I will find the boy!” he declared.
Amazo, having pilfered Arden’s pork leg from his plate, stopped eating to digest the news. He stood up on his chair and raised the pork leg. “I declare to help investigate these ghost lights and quakes of the town! Also, I will assist in discovering the boy’s whereabouts!”
Arden, now noticing his dinner was in the hands of this little gnome, raised his hand. “I offer my support as well. I have old maps of the area which could assist the search.”
Gareth looked at the three and nodded sternly. “You have my thanks, strangers. Consider your room and board free tonight. I will see to it you are pointed in the right direction at first light. As the storm is raging now, it will be too dangerous to hike up the hills to the mines. Save my grandson, and bring some hope back to this town.”
Chapter Six: The Anomaly
It took them all day to reach the Cinder Mines that had once held the town’s prosperity for many years. The closer they got to the mines, the stronger the quakes became. Sir Nehemiah, who had taken charge of the ragtag group, encouraged them to hold when the shakes would start. He was worried a horse would break a leg. With mud-splattered horses, they made their way to the strange anomaly.
Arden sent his first message to Master Strickus. He explained to him about the mine and where the source of the magical power was located. He informed him of his new companions and a strange metal bird. His next report would be after they discovered what was in the mine. His master sent a reply to be wary of the mine and keep his protective spell active while there. The knight could be trusted, but beware of gnomish inventions.
Amazo and Arden prepared their spells for the day while Sir Nehemiah made lunch. Amazo missed his morning cup of Zap and his quiet office at the guild. This was the farthest away from home he or anyone he knew had ever been. Amazo was taken aback by the sorrow the boy’s mother felt. It had been some time since he had felt sadness or despair. It was uncomfortable. Best not to think about such things. A good junior investigator knew to put the work first. Focus on the tasks and mishaps on hand. Do not cause more mayhem by idle and unnecessary distractions. He looked to Wing-nut.
“Ready, my friend? Be my eyes for me.” With that, he tossed his tiny brass friend up into the air. “Show me around. Let’s find complications before they find us.”
Right away, he felt a little disorientation as he was suddenly flying through the air. Wing-nut whirred loudly with what Amazo could only compare to excitement and thrill. Amazo could view the whole area through the clockwork hawk’s eyes. It was vastly different from his home. The landscape was brown and green with the occasional multicolored flowers streaming by. In a few minutes, he spotted the mouth of the mine. Cinder Mines, as the tavern owner Gareth called them, were slate gray stone with a red hue that shimmered in the sun’s dying light. The entrance was constructed with tree trunks supporting the opening. Since Amazo did not spot the boy outside, the next logical assumption would be he had taken shelter within the mine itself when the storm hit.
Sir Nehemiah and Amazo prepared their gear. Amazo was surprised at the knight’s preparedness. He had dried jerky, camping gear, and everything one needed to make a solo expedition. Amazo had lost about half of his gear on the flight here. Luckily, he was always over-prepared, so he still had enough personal backup gear and his trusty investigator’s toolkit. He double-checked to see if his lucky screwdriver was still within his tool bandolier. The brown-handled metal screwdriver was firmly secured.
Arden pulled out a map of the mine. He looked around and then to the knight and the gnome. “Don’t be alarmed. This is a simple spell.” He whispered an incantation, and the map began to glow with pale light. “This will let us see in the dark, so we don’t have to carry torches the whole time.”
Sir Nehemiah took a step back. His suspicions of Arden were confirmed, unfortunately. Now the Sage was a sorcerer. The general public viewed it as witchcraft. The knighthood themselves had always been wary of magic and those who wielded it. Nehemiah wouldn’t be afraid of Arden, but neither would he drop his guard now.
Amazo, on the other hand, was more than thrilled to meet a mage. He was a fellow student studying the arcane. “Fascinating! How do you calibrate the exact amount of illumination necessary to see without blinding yourself and others? Do you have an instrument that can read the output within your red wand?” inquired Amazo.
“What? No. Most mage apprentices are taught to feel out and nourish the magic both within themselves and the items they wield,” Arden explained.
“That description is not very specific. I was hoping for exact specifications. Don’t worry, I am sure I have a tool which can measure the amount of light being produced.” Amazo started shifting through his toolkit.
Arden looked a little annoyed. “That will be unnecessary. We must move on,” insisted Arden. “Would both of you please put your thumbs on this point on the map?” Arden gestured at the entrance. Amazo quickly did so without hesitation, but the knight seemed to weigh his options before acquiescing. Arden waved his hand, put down his own thumb, and in three small puffs of smoke, three miniature images of the three of them appeared on the map.
“Almost like a chess board,” Sir Nehemiah gaped at the magical map.
“You’re an illusionist like me!” Amazo said gleefully.
Arden smiled. “You’re an illusionist?” Arden questioned. “I have not chosen a specialty as of yet. But this is just a minor cantrip. As we move throughout the mine, our images will trace our movements,” explained Arden.
Into the mouth of the mine they went, Sir Nehemiah leading the way with Arden and Amazo close behind. It wasn’t but five minutes before the next quakes rocked the area. It was so strong here that they all had to hold on to the wall to keep from falling. Soon they came upon a partly collapsed tunnel. Sir Nehemiah was about to step down when Amazo yelled, “Stop!” Sir Nehemiah froze where he was, boots still in the air.
Amazo slowly approached the front of the column with his toolkit opened. He grabbed some chalk powder and blew it across the dark floor.
Arden noticed right away. “A trip wire? Why would a miner place this here?” he asked.
Sir Nehemiah slowly said without moving his foot, “No miner made this.”
Amazo, now on his hands and knees, for once didn’t respond. He crawled ever so slowly, finding the source of the string. Amazo had encountered this sort of dilemma before. During his training with the GMI guild, he was given a final test to break into his boss’s office and procure an item without being caught or detected. A trip wire was one of many such equations to solve to pass the exam on that treacherous night.
He figured out that it was set to trigger a cave-in should an unwanted visitor approach. He decided the safest way to deal with this was to step over. Amazo showed the others how and where to step. By this time, Sir Nehemiah was beginning to sweat but now looked relieved. After they all cautiously passed the trap, Sir Nehemiah looked down at the little gnome and had a new appreciation for him. Sir Nehemiah informed them that someone else was most likely here. They needed to be careful.
“Careful is my twenty-fifth name,” declared Amazo. He was smiling. He had not realized how much he missed and enjoyed talking with others. He couldn’t remember the last time he talked to anyone about anything other than work. Sir Nehemiah was now looking at a new room. Slowly, with his father’s great sword drawn, Sir Nehemiah ventured into the dark room. When Arden followed close behind, the light from the map lit up the new area.
“A battle happened here,” the knight observed. Inside, they found what appeared to be a planning room for mining operations, but it had been torn and burned apart. Papers, broken boards, books, a mining cart, and blood were all around. In the center, on a pedestal, was a golden orb with beautiful filigree surrounding it. It was pulsing with sickly green and yellow light. A slight hum reverberated from it. Arden was inspecting an overseer’s desk which had a map of the country with several key cities and locations circled.
Arden tried pulling the knight’s attention to the obviously strategic map. “Sir Nehemiah, I think you should take a look at this map.”
The knight was distracted and couldn’t hear the apprentice. All the blood had drained from his face as he stared at the body of a fellow knight in plate mail propped up against the far wall.
While this was going on, Amazo was watching and taking notes on his orb’s twin. The orb’s glow became uncomfortably bright, and the whole room began shaking. A blinding flash poured from the orb, and before them stood two scaly monsters of bronze color. Each abomination stood as tall as a man and had a face akin to a lizard or a crocodile. They were staring at Sir Nehemiah and charged without warning.
The knight brought his father’s sword down on the first to approach, and it sparked when hit! The beast then burst into embers. The knight didn’t have time to contemplate that because the other lizard beast was swiping at him with its claws. While Sir Nehemiah battled the second monster, Arden ran around the conflict to the orb. Amazo pointed out that it appeared to have broken filigree and was cracked along the precious orb’s glass sphere. “It appears to have sustained damage from the previous conflict. Perhaps if we are able to repair it, that might stop it from…”
“Malfunctioning!” Arden finished. “But how?”
Sir Nehemiah stabbed the lizard through the chest, and like its mate, it burst into embers. The knight was breathing heavily with adrenaline. “Never have I fought exploding lizard men!” he said.
“Investigator, do you possess some form of adhesive?” Arden asked. “Perhaps with my web spell and your adhesive together, we might jury-rig a repair.”
Amazo quickly produced a tube of gel from his kit. As they were working together, the orb flared up and went off again. This time, after the flash, four lizard men appeared. They attacked everyone. Amazo noticed something about the one chasing him around the room. It was translucent! It was an illusion.
“They are mere illusions!” he declared. But then the beast swung at him. “Ouch!” Amazo was still cut and pushed by what he knew to be fake. Amazo ducked and rolled as if he was in a collapsing factory. These may be fake monsters, but even a lie can hurt.
“Apparently they are magical constructs of light but still a danger!” Arden yelled as he dodged the one on him. Arden pulled some material from his pouch and cast bright light missiles from his fingertips, destroying the lizard man on him. Sir Nehemiah tore down one illusion lizard man and swung at the one chasing Amazo. He nicked it enough to cause it to burst. With the momentary reprieve, Arden took the glue and quickly pasted it onto the sickly glowing orb and cast web. Once again, the orb’s song went off, and eight more lizard men flickered into the room. As soon as the last bit of the crack in the sphere was covered, the light went out, and the remaining illusions burst into embers.
That’s when Sir Nehemiah went over to the body. Sir Gawyn. Gashes and dents had been torn from his armor, but those are not what killed him. His shield, strapped to his arm, had a large hole burned through the center, as did he.
“It appears as if something burned a hole right through. The shield couldn’t save him,” Arden observed.
Amazo was there with a pair of calipers, measuring the size and diameter of the burn hole. “If my estimate is accurate, this was done by what you might call a bolt of lightning.”
“Get away from him with those!” Sir Nehemiah demanded with anger in his eyes.
Amazo realized he had overstepped by examining the body too closely and coldly. “I am sorry.” Finally noticing Sir Nehemiah’s anguish and heartbreak.
Then, out from the shadows, “Oh, not another knight. I have had my fill of metal heads for today.” came an annoyed voice from behind them. They all turned to see a short and stocky black-robed man holding a wand. He appeared to have a bleeding wound on his left arm. He was holding it close to his body.
“Why did you murder my friend?” Sir Nehemiah demanded while squaring up with the black-robed mage.
“I would say it was self-defense, but would you believe me? No, I think not.” With that, the mage pointed his purple obsidian wand and said a phrase. A bolt of lightning came streaking out, slamming into Sir Nehemiah’s shoulder. He moved just in time to not take the brunt of the force in his chest. The force knocked the knight to the ground, but he still held on to his sword with his right hand.
“Nehemiah!” yelled Arden, and he raised the wand Strickus had given him. Two blistering hot rays of fire blew from his wand towards the evil sorcerer.
“Not enough, boy!” retorted the mage as he raised his robe in defense. The two rays of fire were absorbed by the black robe he was wearing, incinerating it. One more blast would have him, but Arden wasn’t quick enough. Then the black-robed man cast another spell, and Arden froze in place. He could still hear and see, but his body was no longer his own. “I would recognize Master Strickus’s handy work anywhere. How did you come by owning one of his magic wands?”
Through gritted teeth Arden made out, “I’m his apprentice.”
“My apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. Master Crows of the Black Order, at your service,” Crows made a short bow. “And little gnome, don’t fret. I didn’t forget about you.” Amazo had been readying his last resort measure, a hand-held explosive from the Black Powder Guild. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. As Crows once again spoke the wand’s phrase, a bolt of lightning flew across the room, electrifying the junior investigator. Amazo grasped his chest as he flew across the room in a charred heap. Sir Nehemiah’s heart broke when he saw his little friend get shot down.
“Amazo! By my word, you will pay for that!” swore the knight.
Crows just smiled, taking a moment to enjoy his handiwork.
All this was, of course, by design. Like his guild master once said, “The real truth of magic is held in the performance.” Amazo had figured the evil mage would target him, so he had an idea for a perfect illusion. He quietly cast a phantom image of himself readying a weapon in view of the mage. Hiding behind an ore cart left in the room, he had devised a plan—one he hoped would be convincing enough to fool everyone. Now, with a quick calculation, Amazo figured he would have five seconds to cast an invisibility spell over himself since this Crows mage now thought him dead. His attention was on the other two. No time for second-guessing. As Crows turned to taunt Arden, he quietly cast invisibility and disappeared from sight.
“Where was I, boy? Ah yes. Nothing would hurt Strickus, my former master, more than to turn his apprentice. So here it is. You will die here today with the knights and the gnome and be forgotten about in this dank, backwards town.” Crows now had his back fully turned to Amazo. “Or join me. Neither you nor my former mentor has any clue what is about to happen in the world. Armies of all five colors of the chromatic will wage war on the world! Why not become my apprentice and find opportunity and power?” Crows looked as if he genuinely wanted Arden to say yes.
Through frozen teeth and fear bubbling from within, Arden replied, “The path you have chosen… looks like a lonely road. And I have already chosen my companions.”
“So be it,” Crows said, almost disappointingly, as he leveled his obsidian wand at the young apprentice.
While Crows was making his final case to convince Arden, Amazo was in operation mode. Two seconds to Crows. Three seconds to mentally give Wing-nut a command. Two seconds to swap the wand in his hand while he was distracted. While Arden was giving his answer to Crows, Wing-nut flew, clicking as loud as Amazo had ever heard him before. He flew straight into Crows’s face, scratching and pecking at his eyes! Crows yelled and grabbed Wing-nut, hurling him down onto the stone floor. Sir Nehemiah was up on his feet. Crows stood, fed up. “No more tricks! Now you die.” He pointed the wand at Sir Nehemiah and recited the phrase.
Nothing happened. Both were puzzled that the knight was not roasted meat. He repeated the phrase. He looked puzzled at his wand and found himself staring at a screwdriver with a brown handle. His facial expressions rapidly went through many contortions and emotions: wonder, panic, and explosive rage at the ridiculous little gnome and his tools. “I’ll have your tiny hands nailed to my spell book, little thief!” Crows screamed at the top of his lungs. As he turned, Sir Nehemiah saw his chance. He swung his father’s sword as hard as he could with his good arm. He sliced into Crows’s arm holding the screwdriver. Amazo, now visible and holding the obsidian wand, pointed it at Crows.
“Zap,” Amazo said right before speaking Crows’s magic phrase. The evil mage was hit with a lightning bolt in the stomach. Doubling over from the two blows, all anger was gone. Crows was finally filled with fear. He reached up with his other hurt arm to touch his necklace. His ruby jewelry lit up for a brief moment. In a flash of fire and smoke, Crows was gone.
Chapter Seven: What Lies Ahead
Two weeks later, Nehemiah was out of the ward in Stillwater. His shoulder hurt, but at least he was happy to be walking around. With the help of Sir Gareth—as he knew him now—the group set up a funeral pyre for his friend Sir Gawyn. He still didn’t know the whereabouts of his commander. Though Arden did discover that the mage known only as Crows had been gathering intelligence about strategic locations and vital resources of the knight’s country. That could only mean war, and it would soon be upon them. He knew he must warn the knighthood. He hoped they would believe him.
Arden, with his first taste of battle and the outside world, was ready to venture home to the safe walls of his tower. He reported to Strickus about everything. Strickus sent a reply:
“Return to the tower, bring the orb, Crows was my first apprentice before switching sides. Bring the gnome. He is a rogue wizard and must be handled properly. If we don’t bring him in, the other orders will. He must submit to the test or be dealt with.”
This was all Strickus gave. Arden did not like the final implications. Amazo was a rogue, but only because he had learned by himself in seclusion. Arden looked at Amazo. “Ready, my little amazing friend?”
Amazo looked up at his two new friends. He thought a lot about the events at Stillwater. He had spent years obsessed with work and his uncle’s mishap. Report back to Brassbones and inform him of the events. Arden was adamant they would teach Amazo how to make contact with his boss. For once, he couldn’t calculate the next steps’ outcome. That felt good—not knowing. Arden offered an opportunity to study with real wizards and take a test. He picked up a repaired Wing-nut whose wing had sustained damage during the conflict.
“Want to investigate a wizard’s tower, my little friend?”
“Whirr!” Wing-nut said.
