"This better be good, Jero" Sril said. "If my da catches me not doing my work he’ll strap my hide."

"Guess what I can do," Jero said.

"What?" Sril asked. "You finally learned to go without your mother helping you?"

Sril laughed at his little joke. He stopped short when Jero cast the gaze all friends recognize as the I’m not joking around look. Dutifully Sril quieted and awaited his friend’s news.

"I can read," Jero said proudly.

"You can read?" Sril exclaimed.

"Quiet you idiot," Jero hissed, looking from one end of the alley to the other. "Do you want to bring the Black Mage’s minions down on us?"

Sril looked around frantically in a sudden burst of paranoia. Neither of the boys wished to be put to the question. They would not survive long in the Black Mage’s dungeons. Jero thought his friend should have been a little more thoughtful before he spoke.

"Sorry," Sril said sheepishly when everything seemed to be clear.

"It’s alright," Jero sighed. "I’d be excited too if you had been the one to tell me."

In a hushed voice Sril asked, "Where did you learn to read?"

"I’ve been learning from this old man who lives under the docks where we used to play as children," Jero answered.

The two youths shared a moment of longing. A simple time they would never have again. A time when the Black Mage was nothing more than a story their mothers had frightened them with so they would be good. Before they had learned the true terror living under the Back Mages rule.

"How long did it take?" Sril asked.

"I’m not done yet," Jero answered. "I’ve still got a lot to learn but now I know enough that I can learn on my own."

Sril looked around slyly. "Do you think I could learn to read?" the desire to rebel or break any rule sparkling in his eyes.

"Sure," Jero said. "I’m going to see him tomorrow. I’ll get you on my way there."

"Grand," Sril said.

"Just don’t tell anyone," Jero said. "I don’t want to think about how much trouble we’d get in if we got caught."

"I’ll see you tomorrow," Sril said eagerly.

"Tomorrow," Jero said.

The next day Jero and Sril made their way to the docks. They made care no to look like they were about any thing important. As far as any one who saw them at a glance Jero and Sril were two youths on an errand for their parents. If observed more closely one could see an air of anticipation about them. One might have wondered what the two boys were up to. Fortunately neither Jero nor Sril were distinct enough for any one to pay them that much notice.

"Are we almost there?" Sril asked for not the first time.

"You know very well how close we are," Jero answered. "We used to come this way all the time as children. Now shut the hole under your nose before some one grow suspicious of us."

The last few minutes of the journey were spent in silence. Jero could tell is friend were on the verge of bursting. He wasn’t surprised. Sril had always been an excitable one. It was usually Sril who got the two of them caught doing mischief because he couldn’t keep a calm face about whatever they had done.

When the friends climbed into the small alcove that was once their childhood fortress Sril held his breath. Sitting next to the entrance to the imaginary dungeon was an ancient figure. Surrounding him were the strange objects the Black Mage had outlawed so many years ago. There were a good ten books lying around him.

Books!

No matter how many times Jero came to see the old man he still marveled at the sight. There were more books here than in the rest of the city put together. Merely being here was punishable by death after many days of torture in the city market.

"At last," Sril whispered through his teeth.

"Have you brought a friend to learn as well?" the old man asked. "That is good. Every young man should learn to read. The real crime is in forbidding people the gift of knowledge."

"Aren’t you afraid the Black Mage will find you here?" Sril asked.

The old man chuckled. "I hardly think the Black Mage spends much of his time crawling around under the docks."

"You’d be surprised where he might be," Sril answered in a menacing voice.

"That’s not funny, Sril," Jero said. "This man is going to teach you to read. You shouldn’t be rude."

"Oh, I don’t think he’s going to teach anyone else how to read," Sril said in a low, cold tone. "Not ever again."

At that Sril began to change. His body grew while light shown from his eyes. Energy crackled around him setting off small fires amongst the piles of driftwood. The gray and brown peasant clothes he wore turned into great black robes.

"Run Jero!" the old man cried.

Jero knew he should flee for his life. There was nothing here now for him but death. He tried as hard as he could to get his feet to move but they just stood still. Jero watched in fascination as his best friend transformed into the terrible visage of the Black Mage.

Then the old man stood and cast out his hands. Words from a language Jero had never heard came from the old man’s mouth. As he finished shards of ice flew from his fingertips toward the Black Mage. The figure of the Black Mage folded in on itself and reappeared behind the old man.

"Run Jero!" the old man yelled a second time and then the battle began in earnest.

Finally Jero realized he was in the middle of a magical battle. He had no hope to survive if he stayed. He also knew the old man had no hope of defeating the Black Mage. Still, there had to be something he could do against the tyrant.

Without thinking Jero ran between the battling wizards. While they cast spells and sent incantations back and forth he scooped up two of the tomes that had not caught fire. As soon as he had them in his arms Jero threw himself into the sea.

The water was cold and bit deep into his nerves. Jero had trouble keeping his head above the surface while carrying the two books. He struggled to remain above the surface and it wasn’t long before he found a piece of driftwood to latch onto. With steady kicks the youth sent himself further out to sea. To land anywhere near the city would mean a long, painful death.

Jero took one last look over his shoulder and could see the two wizards still battling under the docks. It looked as though the old man was beginning to falter. It occurred to Jero that he had never learned the old man’s name. Perhaps that was for the best. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad losing a friend who he really didn’t know.

Then Jero thought about Sril. He wondered what had happened to his best friend. How long had the Black Mage been in disguise? Even more than losing the old man Jero’s heart ached for Sril. Every moment they had spent together haunted Jero as his eyes welled with tears.

Looking back Jero saw the battle was over. There was no sign that the Black Mage meant to follow him across the waves. To himself and all the saints he could think of Jero swore vengeance. He cried it out as loud as he could over and over. Each oath matched the kicking of his legs and gave Jero the strength he needed to carry him further out to sea.

* * *

Two years later Jero sat on the beach of his island. It had taken him the better part of two days to reach the small piece of land. As far as Jero could tell the island was no more than ten miles across at any one point. However, the thick forest covering most of the island supplied him with more than enough to eat and the small stream coming from the island’s only small mountain gave Jero fresh drinking water.

For the first two months Jero worked for mere survival. He spent most of his time wandering the island, looking for food, making sure there were no large predators, and building a small shelter. For that first month life was hard but good. Jero felt a sense of accomplishment he had never known before. By the time he was ready to turn his attention over to the books Jero was not merely surviving but thriving on the small island.

To his great surprise the books were completely undamaged by the journey to the island. It was as if the water had refused to touch them. Though it confused him, Jero was overjoyed to make this discovery. He more than anything wanted to continue his studies and learn what he could from the old man’s books.

The studies were difficult at first. One of the books was in a language Jero could not read. The other was half in that language and half in the language the old man had taught him to read. Jero spent the rest of that first year doing his best to translate the second language. In some ways it was a more difficult task than his original fight for survival upon the island. More than once Jero cast the books aside and refused to touch them for days at a time.

However, Jero would always return to the books. The strange mystery of being able to read constantly pulled at him. The more he worked the greater Jero’s understanding of the universe became. He also realized why the Black Mage had outlawed reading. Reading brought knowledge and knowledge was the key to all the power in the world.

During the second year Jero discovered the meaning of the second language. One evening, as the sun set across the sea, and the light grew to dim to read by, Jero longed to continue his studies. With the final rays of light he spoke aloud the words he read. The irony that they spoke of a free burning light made Jero smile.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth Jero felt something within him awaken. Warmth spread throughout his and he felt a little more tired than it had before the words were spoken. On the whole it was a rather pleasant sensation.

Then Jero noticed that his small shelter was brighter than it should have been for that time of day. Floating in the center was a small glowing orb. It gave off a pleasant glow that was perfectly comfortable to read by. He looked at the light, wondering where it had come from. After a moment Jero had the answer.

It was magic!

Some how Jero had cast a spell and the glowing sphere was the result. The power had come from within him because Jero had known the right words in the language of magic. Those words were the key to the most powerful force in the world. Jero held that power in the palm of his hand.

The rest of that year Jero spent in study. He only slept or ate when the need was so great that his concentration suffered. Days and nights would pass without notice as he unraveled the mysteries of the magical language.

In the second year Jero’s understanding and abilities of magic grew. He developed a small, but well honed, repertoire of minor spells. Jero was always tempted to try some of the more powerful invocations and rituals but he knew the dangers they represented. One day Jero had badly hurt himself with a cold spell gone wrong because he mispronounced two syllables. It took him more than a month to heal from the burn wounds.

During that month Jero decided to forgo his studies and explore the island more thoroughly. He played through the days as if he were a great sorcerer and was saving his city from the Black Mage. More than a few of the island’s small trees and bushes burned in place of the tyrant.

One day Jero was doing battle with his nemesis near one of the many tide pools on the island. His skill at spell casting was at the point where Jero could create minor phantasms. It was one such minor illusion that Jero was fighting.

In the midst of the fight Jero slipped and fell into the pool. After a few moments of splashing around and coughing the water out of his lungs he began to laugh at himself. Then, as he began walking to the edge of the pool, Jero felt his foot come down on something with a crunch. Looking into the clear see water Jero saw the pool was filled with oysters.

Excitement flooded into Jero. He quickly dove beneath the surface and began scooping oysters into his short. For months he had been living off plants and the occasional fish. His mouth watered with the thought of something new to eat.

However, later that night Jero discovered the true treasure he had found. As he began prying the oysters apart in order to cook them he found small white balls in almost all of them. Even though he was young Jero knew that the pearls were valuable. Many of the nobles he had seen flocking to the Black Mage’s keep wore pearls. Many of the commoners might have worn pearls themselves but the nobles would pay so much for a pearl that it could feed a family for a week.

All thought of food had left Jero as he stared at the pearls long into the night. He could only think of what he might do with the pearls. Wearing them would only be nice if there were other people on the island to see him with so many. Long and hard Jero thought but try as he might any use of the pearls escaped him.

Two weeks later Jero finished the second book. It was midday and Jero was sitting on the beach. As he closed the final page he could not think of anything but how much more he needed to learn about magic.

As he looked out across the sea to a distant land where there were more books than he could possible imagine Jero saw the mast of a ship. After a moment his face split into a wide grin. At last the mystery of what to do with the pearls had ended.

* * *

Crispin had been the captain of the Gull’s Cry for ten years. Before that he had been first mate, pilot, oarsman, and cabin boy. As soon as he could walk he had lived a life at sea. He had seen pirates, all the major ports throughout the world, and once a mermaid had even swam along side his ship. With all those experiences, nothing could have prepared him for this day.

A figure all in white robes had suddenly appeared upon his deck demanding to see the captain. Crispin stepped forward and declared that he was the captain of the vessel.

"Excellent," the robed man said in a deep voice. "I am a mage of some skill and power and I require your assistance."

At the word mage a murmur set throughout the crew. Crispin raised his hand to silence them.

"What can simple sailors such as we do to help a magician of your obvious power," he asked.

From all his years of travel Crispin had learned it was good to recognize those who had power over you. Whether it was a merchant prince who wanted exotic fruit or a harbormaster with not enough time for all his duties. He imagined that a mage was no different and liked to be recognized for his power.

"There is an island directly off your starboard bow," The mage said. "I am conducting research into the nature of the essence of the reality of the thoughts of man. There are magical tomes which I require to complete my research. I wish for you to bring me these and any other volumes of mystical importance post haste."

"But we already have a cargo," Crispin said. "We can not abandon our current contract for you, mage or not."

Crispin had also learned that even men who had power over you were not given the right to control you. He wasn’t about to let any one bully him on his own ship. Placating those with power was much different than ignoring one’s own pride. Crispin knew right where his lines were and this mage was steering very close to crossing them.

"You may continue your other business as you complete this task for me. This will likely take you a considerable amount of time. I would not wish you to make yourselves destitute on my errand despite the compensation I will provide you. Once you return I will provide you with more of the same"

At that all the sailors’ eyes brightened. Crispin could not blame them. Many stories spoke of mages giving generous rewards to those who assisted them. He was even more than a little intrigued.

"What compensation would that be?" Crispin asked.

"Come ashore and I will have my apprentice give you a small token of my esteem to help with whatever expenses you might incur while searching for my needs."

The favor of a mage was not something most men would turn away lightly. Crispin was not like most men but he never turned away from way to get ahead in the world. The hour or two it might take to meet with this mage’s apprentice would probably make it worth the effort. AS he barked commands at his crew Crispin wondered what a mage might consider small compensation.

* * *

Jero ended the spell and fell to the beach. He had never tried such a complex spell for so long before. It was exhausting. Still, it had worked and Jero was proud that he had gained such control over his magic. Jero was worried he would not have sounded enough like a wizard and not been able to fool the sailors. He was thankful he remembered the old man well enough to imitate the way he talked. He also used a lot of the words he had learned from the two books.

As the sailors approached the beach in a landing craft Jero rested as best he could. The excitement of eventually getting new books made it difficult to relax. He forced himself to calm down so he could keep the charade continuing for the sailors. Jero hoped the sailors would take his haphazard look for an overwork apprentice. Not the nervousness of a Young man hatching a plot.

When the sailors landed Jero stepped onto the beach. He walked slowly, as if timidly toward the skiff. As the sailors pulled the skiff onto the beach two broke off from the group and approached the youth.

"You would be the mage’s apprentice," Captain Crispin said.

"Yes sir," Jero said.

"Your master spoke of compensation," the captain said. "What might that be?"

Jero stepped forward and passed ten of the pearls to Captain Crispin’s hand. The captain looked into his hand. His eyes went wide when he saw the pearls.

"My master will give you much more when you complete this task," Jero said.

"Very well," Crispin said. "Tell your master I can see my way to assist him."

"If I could request of you to bring some other things when you return as well?" Jero asked.

"Such as?" the captain asked.

"My master is concerned only with his research. He forgets sometimes about the more basic things we need. If you could bring with you some common supplies with you I would be grateful. I think my master has given you more than enough to make such purchases."

"And some normal books for me to read," Jero added.

"True enough," Crispin said. "We shall return within three or four months."

With that they turned and left. Jero felt his heart soar as the thought of more books to read hit him. He wanted to soak up all the knowledge contained within them. The magical tomes would help in his studies but Jero knew he needed to learn about the world in general. Any knowledge was welcome to his mind.

Over then next few years Captain Crispin, as well as three other ships Jero had used his trick upon, returned to the island with many supplies and books. Some of them were magical by nature and others were normal books. Jero read them all again and again. His knowledge and skill with magic increased every day. He also learned about the world in general as many of the books that came to him were of a scholarly nature.

With each book and small bit of knowledge he gained Jero wanted more. He gained greater understanding of the vileness of the Black Mage. People should be free to learn without another standing in their way. Jero strove to learn all he could to bring about the Black Mage’s rule.

One day as he practiced his new spells Jero stood on the beach and he saw a ship come into view. Jero stopped his studies. He had not expected a ship to arrive for at least another month. Jero watched as a skiff left the ship and approached the beach. As the skiff came closer Jero saw a gray robed figure standing at the bow.

When the boat landed the man in gray robes stepped from the craft. Once he stepped onto the sand the men remaining in the skiff pushed off the beach. The man stood with the surf splashing his feet for a few moments and looked around. His eyes fell on Jero and he gave a slight nod and started forward.

For some reason Jero could do nothing while the man approached. As the figure came closer Jero saw the man was a good head shorter than he was. The man stopped directly in front of Jero and looked him up and down.

"So you’re the one who keeps sending ship captains to my door looking for magical tomes," the man grunted.

"Yes sir," Jero answered politely, not knowing what else to say.

"Then you are lucky I not only have a fondness for pearls but that I also need them in my research," the man said. "Have you learned to use the power I have sensed coming from this island all by your lonesome?"

"Yes sir."

"Impressive," said the man. "Few people have the talent to understand magic let alone learn it by themselves. Come, let use see what you have learned from your studies."

And so it was that Jero began to truly learn of the gift of magic.

* * *

The Black Mage sat in his tower. His city was again peaceful, no thanks to the common soldiers he employed for show. Their incompetence in dealing with the recent uprising was unforgivable. As an example to the city, and new mercenaries he had hired, the Black Mage had slaughtered his former soldiers in the city market one at a time. Not one soul in the city would soon forget those screams of agony.

Suddenly the air in the center of the room began to warp around itself. Then, standing in the center of the folded space was a young mage dressed all in white. The very air around him crackled with energy. He wore a mask of rage over his expressions.

For a moment the Black Mage was worried. Then he became calm. It could not have been the magic of this mage that had allowed him to sneak into the throne room undetected. The Black Mage’s fit of revelry is the only explanation for overlooking the build up of magical energy in the throne room. For such a young mage to have enough skill to mask a spell of such power magnitude would have been nearly impossible.

"I stand here to challenge you for the rule of this city," The young mage said.

"By what right?" demanded the Black Mage.

"By the same right you have used for nearly a century of tyranny over these people," the mage said. "Right of power."

"You think you have the power to defeat me?"

"Accept the challenge and find out," the youth answered.

"Very well," the Black Mage said. "I accept."

With that the Black Mage spoke an incantation and flung out a blast of raw magic. It should have mixed with the energy already surrounding the white mage and erupted, ending what little threat this upstart posed. This did not happen. Some how the White Mage had an active shield in place by the time the bolt struck.

By the time the Black Mage realized this a counter attack had already been sent. The young mage had spoke and rebounded a split bolt from a magical mirror placed on either side of the Black Mage. Caught between these two attacked destroyed the Black Mage’s concentration.

Then a length of magical chains appeared around the Black Mage and he was held fast. Bound into the chains was a glyph of pain. This was obviously meant to shatter any attempt at concentration so as to make concentration impossible.

Inwardly the Black Mage smiled. Early in his years of apprenticeship his master had taught him to separate his mind from the pain. Pain was something that could destroy any mage if it came at the wrong time. Instant pain was still a distraction some times but prolonged pain could be ignored after a few moments. Besides, magic was not the only weapon the Black Mage could bring to bear.

As the young mage approached the Black Mage prepared. By his own words this new White Mage was obviously a weakling who followed the path of goodness and justice. Those of a more sinister nature could easily exploit such weaknesses. The Black Mage was assured of his victory.

"With my victory I demand that you leave this city to my rule and never return," the White Mage said.

"Victory is not yours," the Black Mage snarled.

With the magical energy he had summoned the Black Mage shattered the chains that bound him. He reached within his robes end drew forth his short sword that remained hidden there. The enchantments placed upon it were strong enough to slay any man with a single cut.

As the Black Mage struck at his foe the White Mage uttered words of power. Just before the short sword struck it’s mark a sword appeared in the White Mage’s hand. Sparks of metal and magic shot out as the two enchanted weapons collided.

"You are not the only one with more knowledge than merely magic," the White Mage said. "Now, shall we finish this?"

The Black Mage did not answer. He simply struck out with sword and spell. The White Mage was barely able to counter both on time. He struck back and the battle truly began. Each mage knew quarter would neither be ask for nor given.

The two mages fought throughout the throne room. As they fought it became clear the Black Mage was the more skilled mage. His spells were crafted by a mind that had lived for more than one hundred years as a user of magic. It was not long before the Black Mage had trapped his enemy within the very same magical chains that had held him. It was pleasing to see the White Mage squirm under his own glyph of pain.

"Now what shall I do with you?" the Black Mage asked. "I could be merciful and kill you now but I don’t think so. You come into my realm and make demands of me when I have done you no harm. My realm is mine to rule. If you wanted a city of your own you should have conquered one yourself.

"No, I do not think I will be merciful. I will take some time to contemplate what I shall do with you. Until then you may writhe on my floor in pain. That will amuse me for a few days, I think."

Then the Black Mage went to his massive throne. He sat down to watch the agony of his defeated foe. He would watch as slowly, as the hours passed, hope fled from this new White Mage, as did his predecessor.

The moment the Black Mage sat in the throne white-hot pain shattered his consciousness. He could do nothing as all knowledge of the workings of magic was ripped out of the Black Mages mind. As each small bit of magic was torn from him he slid to the floor.

When he could at last open his eyes again the White Mage was standing above him. The Black Mage tried to cast some spell of attack but pain burst into his mind. Then he tried a spell of defense with the same amount of pain. Nothing of his past skill would come to his aid. With the pain and despair he had just suffered he could not even lift his sword.

"You were wrong," the White Mage said. "You have done me harm to this whole city and myself. You destroyed my two best friends right before my eyes when I was a child."

The White Mage uttered a few words. The Black Mage knew he should have been able to understand them but whenever he tried to concentrate on them the pain returned. Then he saw a scene beneath the docks that he played a large part. At the end a young boy jumped into the sea and swam as fast and as far as he could.

"Very well then," the Black Mage said, "kill me."

"I will do no such thing," the White Mage said. "I have studied for years to find the perfect punishment for your crimes. Finally I decided to take from you that which you have kept from others for so long. I have taken your knowledge. Never again will you be able to remember any knowledge of the workings of magic no matter how much you try. The more you think about magic the more pain you will suffer. If you succeed in casting even the most minor spell it will probably kill you.

"Now get out of my city!"

* * *

Two years after the Black Mage had been cast out of the city Jero sat at his desk. He looked over the single classroom school he had started. Only two children sat at the long tables. They were reading the books Jero had written himself to aid people in learning how to read.

He looked up as a woman walked into the school with two small children, a boy and a girl. Jero wondered how long it had taken the woman to find the courage to walk into the school. Even after two years the people lived in fear of the Black Mage’s ban on knowledge.

Someday the fear would leave and the people would be eager to learn. The White Mage could have stayed and ruled, commanding that his subjects learn all he wanted to teach them. The people would have learned but nothing more than another kind of tyranny. So it was that the White Mage left the city to it’s own devices.

"Is this the new school?" the woman asked.

"Yes it is," Jero said as pleasantly as he could. "My name is Jero and I am the school master and only teacher. What can I do for you?"

"What will it cost for my children top learn here?"

"Nothing," Jero said. "Knowledge has no price. It is free to who ever wishes it."

The woman’s face showed she did not expect this answer. After the rule of the Black Mage people expected everything came with a price.

"I am a student of the White Mage," Jero said. "He gives me every thing I could need. I have not the gift of magic that he does and so he takes pity on me."

"So the White Mage demands that we send our children to your school?" the woman asked.

"The White Mage asks that you would live as you will," Jero answered. "If you would send your children to learn then this pleases him. If you do not this pleases him as well. All will please him if it is the life you wish."

"We are poor and do not have all that we would like," She said. "What will the White Mage do about this?"

"Your life is not his responsibility. If you would make your life better stay and learn. Some where within my school you may find the means to improve your life."

"I could stay and learn too?"

"Do you know what that sign says?" Jero indicated the sign that held the words the Grey Mage had so often said to him "It is never to late to become wise."

"I can’t read," The woman said.

"Then stay and learn and some day, perhaps one day soon, you will be able to read that sign."

The woman’s eyes lit up. Many times Jero had said the same thing to many men and women. Never before had an adult looked so eager to learn. Many had wanted Jero to hand them the knowledge. He required them to learn not be fed information.

"Do you here that children?" the woman said, "We’re going to learn to read together."

The room reflected Jero’s excitement. Today he had defeated a strong barrier. Soon he would have more adult student. Perhaps within another two years he would have to contact the Grey Mage to find more teachers for the school.

"Then have a seat," Jero said. "Today we will begin with the letters."