Contributor: Julius Vagdal

Feeling the seeker’s departure, Ben slowly stepped into the room, his own wand at the ready. He breathed a sigh of relief; his illusion had done its work, as had the wards. Without them he would never have known of the seeker’s coming or going.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Yes, he could still feel the trail of magic, like the scent of rotting meat lingering behind the golem-seeker. He would be able to follow, if he was quick about it. He was thankful it had only been a golem; a wizard would likely have seen through his illusion.

He opened his eyes, they fell on his son's empty bed. How many nights had he stood in this spot, watching over Simon, dreading this night? How many times had he thundered at his son hoping to drive the thoughts of wizards and magic from his head? But the boy was wizard-born, and nothing he could do could change that.

He looked out the broken window and whispered a spell. The dim glow of Simon’s foot and hand prints suddenly appeared along the rooftop. His eyes followed them to a tree and down to the streets below. Ben heart was torn between wanting to go after his son and the need to follow the golem. Time, if only he had more time. But wishes were like fishes; they slipped away before you could grasp them. He had to go after the golem; things would only worsen if he didn’t. It would take Simon time to reach Harod Street and find this Kell, longer still to reach to the portal of Tagn. Ben trusted in all that was good that Simon would be safe, at least for a while.

Breathing deeply, he ran his fingers across the bracelet on his wrist. The Livalin stones were cool beneath his fingers. Runes inbeded within each stone glowed with an ethereal light all their own. Ben was thankful he had prepared in advance for this time, though he hoped it would never come. For years he had spent some portion of each day pouring power into the warded stones to use as a reservoir should he ever have need of it.

Crossing to the far corner of the room, he concentrated on the quickly dissipating trail of magic, then willed himself to follow the golem. His stomach lurched, as if he had unexpectedly fallen off a wall.

He stood in a great hall. Torches flickered from sconces set within the stonewalls. There not five paces in front of him stood a black robed figure. His magic heightened sense of smell told him all he needed to know. This was the same soulless creature that invaded his home.

Surprise bloomed on the face of the seeker as it turned to face him. “Bendarrion,” the seeker said softly.

Without hesitation Ben dipped into the well of power resting within his bracelet. Smoke rose from the golem’s robes, and then suddenly turned into bits of flame licking out from the center of its chest. The golem let out an inhuman wail as it tried in vain to put out the flames as they spread across its body. Ben was forced to turn away his gaze as the soulless thing was engulfed by the bright red mage-fire until all that remained was a pile of ashes.

Ben closed his eyes and envisioned his next destination. His stomach lurched and he stood in a dark stand of ash and elm. He lopped through the tangled underbrush for a bowshot before he made his next jump. He would have to make a few intermediate stops to throw off any pursuit before he returned home.

Now that he had destroyed the golem-seeker, no one would know about Simon and he would be free to teach his son about the gift he had been born with; the gift that could also be a curse.