Huntsman

To My Lovely Bride:

Lea, you made this possible. Without your encouragement, tact,

and brutal uh…insightful… corrections I never could have done it!

Thanks for lending me your Sisu!

Minä rakastan sinua!

To My Dad:

My Real-World Avitus.

Alton William Wilson Jr.

April 26, 1945 - December 30, 2009

Acknowledgments:

Many thanks to my Beta-readers for their input:

Dave & Jen, Debs, and both Chris D's

(Dalyander and D'Muhala)

Author's Note

This Trilogy is set in an area of Northern Europe that was called Fennoscandia one thousand years ago. It encompassed the Scandinavian Peninsula (and thus Norway & Sweden), Karelia and the Kola Peninsula but I have based these books on the area that would much later become the country of Finland.

The Hunted Mage Trilogy incorporates a blend of history, fantasy and ancient Finnish folklore. The verses come from The Kalevala, a 19th century work of epic poetry compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Finnish oral folklore and mythology. Rune Singers today pass down stories and history though their numbers dwindle.

To the best of my ability, I have used the historic names of places and people-groups. Helsinki is commonly referred to as Stadi 'the City' and an old hill fort lies in ruins near the town of Lieto. Any other locations are purely fictional.

I will not attempt to offer a long pronunciation key for the many Finnish words herein! I have lived with a Finnish-speaking woman for 22 years now and it still befuddles me. Readers will find several translation sites online that may help, as they do not have my wife to vex non-stop with pronunciation questions.

Always stress the first syllable! The letter J is pronounced as a 'Y' so Jaakko is 'Yah-ko'. Ai is pronounced 'eye' and A is pronounced 'uh' so Aila is 'Eye-luh'.

There you have it. Clear as muta? Please enjoy Book One of the Hunted Mage!

Prologue

Winter Solstice

AD 1001

Wainamoinen, ancient hero,

Speaks at last to Old Wipunen:

"...I shall never, never leave thee

Till I learn thine incantations,

Learn thy many wisdom-sayings,

Learn the lost-words of the Master;

Never must these words be bidden,

Earth must never lose this wisdom,

Though the wisdom-singers perish."

From Rune XVII

'Wainamoinen Finds the Lost Word.'

Eyulf! The poker?

Jaana's sharp words brought his head up quickly and he fumbled for a moment at the hearth for one of the iron tools. She spoke in a hiss that brought a furrow of worry to his brow.

He grabbed the metal rod then dropped it to take up a thick cloth with a wince. He had left it too long in the embers and his fingers felt his negligence now.

Sorry, Mother.

Quickly, now! And pay attention!

She stood with a tray of wooden and clay cups half-filled with spiced wine. He leaped to her side and began to dip the hot metal into the cups. He heard the hiss of cooled metal only on the first few. He knew how hot the poker was and knew he could finish warming the last of the eight servings. He placed the iron back into the coals.

The room was full of more people than he had realized and, as he stared about him, he understood his mother's quiet words to him.

Many of his father's liege-lords were here and Jaana moved from one warrior to the next with her tray of mulled wine to welcome them to her home. Eyulf could see the frown his father gave him between his friendly words with them.

He was quicker with the hot poker when she returned. His eyes darted about the room more carefully now. He took in each face.

I do not see him, he thought.

Has he come, mother?

Jaana shushed him with pursed lips.

He will come when he pleases, despite your nagging me about it!

Eyulf gave a grunt of displeasure as he finished mulling the next tray of cups.

He could see his father, Tahvo, at the door speaking with a man beyond the lintel. He felt a jolt of excitement for just a breath.

Then, just as quickly, the anticipation left him. It was their neighbor, Mauno, his father spoke with at the door. The tall man stooped to enter the hall and his family entered behind him.

His mother appeared at Tahvo's side with the last of the welcome cups from her tray. She called a greeting to Lady Sirpa, Mauno's wife.

He could hear the sounds of friendly chatter rise from the door as their neighbors drained their cups.

I think everyone has arrived but one, Eyulf thought with a grimace on his face.

He turned his gaze once more to the chunk of wood on a table beside the hearth.

Every guest but the one I wish to see most!

He reached out a finger to trace the symbols carved on the wood.

He had not touched the carvings before. They were for protection from misfortune and far too important to risk young boys tampering with them. The chunk of wood was charred at one end where it had lain in last years Yule-fire. It was good luck to light this years fire with the remains of the last's.

He closed his eyes for a moment and could almost hear the Rune.

Has he come?

The voice hissed almost in his ear. He gave a start as his eyes flew open and he pulled his hand away from the Yule-log with a guilty twitch.

He heard it still, the sound of the Rune, but with his eyes opened and the distraction of the girl at his side, it faded to nothing in a moment.

No. He has not come! His words came out more sharply than he had intended them. The girl paid them little heed. Her eyes were fixed on the partly charred log for a moment, then went up to his face.

Ought you touch them, Eyulf? My father has forbidden me to even come this close to them. He says they are an evil custom.

Eyulf shrugged as he turned away from her and back to the fire in the hearth. He placed two more irons in the embers in case his mother had need of them. With all their guests present each person could now heat their own wine as they wished.

My father still wavers between the old ways and the new, Eyulf whispered.

His mother appeared behind the girl.

Aila, your mother says you must stay with Eyulf when you go out with the others for Joulupukki but you are not to disappear before the meal!

The girl, Aila, bobbed her head at his mother's words.

Thank you, Lady Jaana!

Jaana smiled at the excited response. As she turned away Eyulf could see a shrewd look in her eyes. The look passed from Eyulf to Aila. The look made him nervous. He only saw that look when she thought of some way to occupy his time.

He jogged Aila's arm with his elbow and nodded toward a platter.

Would you like piirakka?

He moved without waiting for her answer and drew her toward the tables, heaped with food, that lined their great hall.

Share one, his mother called. We will eat soon!

He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw a satisfied smile on Jaana's face as Aila took his hand.

Eyulf looked down at his fingers intertwined with Aila's and tried to loosen his grip. She tightened her clasp and pulled him to the pastries with a smile. She let go of his hand long enough to roll a piirakka onto a wooden plate, then thrust the meat pie into his grip and led him away.

Aila tried to drag him into one of the outer halls but he resisted. She always tried to escape her mother's watchful eye yet Eyulf needed to look for the missing guest. He made her stop at a bench near the large arched doors that led to the courtyard.

Has he sent word that he would even come tonight, Aila asked him as he sawed at the pie with his belt knife.

No. He handed her half of the pastry and they spent some time in easy silence while they ate.

But he must come, Eyulf thought.

So. You must stay with me while we go to Joulupukki!

Her words sounded pleased.

Yes. I must.

She spun in her seat to face him.

Good! I learned the funniest song we can sing. Let me teach you.

* * *

Eyulf returned from the singing with eyes that watered from the icy wind. The tears, frozen against his cheek, began to thaw as he moved across the room stamping his numb feet to warm them.

All of the children, red-cheeked from the cold and dressed in the traditional goat-skin costumes worn from home to home as they sang, made a raucous noise as they rejoined their elders for more food.

He looked about the room for his parents and found his mother talking, as always, with Aila's mother on a bench near the hearth. He drew the cap and thick furred shirt over his head and threw them to a chair.

The Joulupukki was another of the old customs his father held to, despite more and more of their neighbors turning to the Christ. The goat-skin clothing represented the god's chariot drawn by two of the stubborn creatures.

Why do only the children have to wear them and go out into the cold?

His dark hair was plastered to his brow from running back to the hall.

He gathered a plate of food from the sideboards before he sat.

He had crammed a good portion into his mouth when Aila was at his side, tugging at his arm. Her golden-brown hair was dark with sweat as well.

Come on! He came while we were out singing! Your father speaks with him now.

Eyulf jumped to his feet and ran with her. They dodged the guests still at feast yet there were still curses here and there as he jostled elbows in his haste. They ran from the hall into the darker corridors beyond.

They both knew where Tahvo had taken the late-comer. His private chamber was at the end of a long stone passage. There were other rooms along its length but none were close enough to listen to a conversation in Tahvo's room.

The next passage over, however, ended with an alcove. It was against an outer wall and a leak from the thatch above allowed them to hear through a patch of mortar that had been washed away by several years of winter storms. It was a cold place to spy on their parents for any lengthy time.

Eyulf heard voices murmur from the crack in the wall as they approached.

I have not hidden here with Aila since last spring, he thought.

They had grown since then, he found. There was far less space to move about in the nook than before. They stood close to each other in the narrow space.

For a moment or two, all he could hear in the cramped space of the alcove was the hiss of their own breathing, quickened from their run through the halls.

He and Aila both put their heads as close to the crevice as they could.

He was taller than Aila, and found his face just above the top of her head. She smelled faintly of beeswax candles and perspiration. He felt a moment of awkwardness standing so close to her but then his father's voice came through the gap in the stone. Eyulf pressed his ear against it and forgot all else.

...but he has no skill for it.

His father's voice was loud and strident as always. Tahvo was a charging bull with his words in casual talk. Wildly so, when he spoke on a subject about which he felt strongly.

The voice that answered was much quieter and deeper than his father's. Eyulf had to strain to hear its reply.

Is he simple minded, then? I have no use for a simpleton.

Tahvo let out a snort of indignation.

He is no half-wit!

And yet, the other replied in an almost mellow tone, you cannot even impart knowledge of commerce upon him to train him for trading your goods?

Eyulf heard the scrape of chair legs across stone and could see in his mind his father rising from behind his table to stamp about the room. He always argued on his feet.

Damn it, Arnett! The boy is clever enough when he wishes to be. You have seen that yourself!

A clinking of hearth tools drifted through the crack, then the thump and hiss of a log added to the flames.

I have, Arnett said, but why would I take on a student you have given up trying to teach?

I have no use for him! That does not mean you cannot find one. I have two older boys and a daughter as well. The oldest boy will inherit, the younger will manage the lands and trade goods, Tahvo said.

Eyulf bristled at his father's words. He felt heat rise into his ears as he grew angry.

He paints a foul picture of me to Master Arnett. Kaapo is better with the accounts but not all that much!

Aila shifted her position in the alcove and he felt a wash of shame add to his anger.

She can hear all that he says of me.

He felt her hand take his in the cold darkness. She gave it a comforting squeeze.

They could hear the sounds of Eyulf's father settling back into his chair once more.

"There are other options for an unnecessary child than saddling me with him." Arnett's voice dripped with scorn.

Eyulf will never be a warrior, Arnett. Of that, I am quite certain. Gods above! I have tried to train him. He cannot handle either sword or spear without endangering those around him.

He stopped my lessons when Luukas swore to King Usko! They used the silver to buy a prettier horse.

A grunt of dissatisfaction escaped him as he clenched his hands into angry knots. He was careful not to crush Aila's small hand in his.

It is not all true, he whispered.

He felt her head bobble under his chin as she nodded.

I know, she whispered in return.

I can send him to the Church to become a priest. Mauno would love that, Tahvo's harsh voice seeped through the crevice.

Your neighbor? What has he to do with whatever becomes of the boy?

Jaana and Sirpa have been conspiring behind our backs it seems. They have plans for the boy and Mauno's girl-child. The women have a betrothal planned.

Eyulf looked down at her head with wide eyes only to find Aila staring up at him. She had a tiny smile on her face.

Almost like mother's as she watched us in the hall, Eyulf thought. She knew of this already!

A series of confused thoughts tumbled through his mind. He knew nothing of betrothals but that there was always better food at the celebrations. His imagination made his befuddlement worse as he tried to decide what his father's words meant.

Whatever it means, I am glad that it is Aila!

She stood close and, for a moment, he rested his chin on her head.

Arnett's chuckle came through the crack in the wall.

Know when to quit, Tahvo!

Huh. His father's grunt of agreement was barely audible in the nook. Eyulf raised his chin from Aila's head, pushed his ear closer still to the gap.

It sounds ideal. They want a priest in the family. You want him off learning a trade. I do not wish to become burdened with an idiot child. I would say we have a solution. It was a pleasure...

The rustle of clothing and the thump of a chair came through the crevice.

No! Eyulf thought with dismay.

Wait, Arnett! I will not have him sent to the priests! They will just send him back more womanish than he is already. I have a dowry to build for my girl-child but I have funds enough to pay for an apprenticeship. Will you teach him to Sing?

Eyulf's thoughts filled with rage at the insult.

I am not womanish, he thought. He grew even angrier at the shameful tears that stung his eyes at his father's callous words.

Oh, Eyulf. Aila gave his hand another squeeze as she spoke and that made it worse to his mind.

What must she think of me after hearing my father speak this way? I hate him!

He shifted away from Aila and tried to leave the nook. The girl pulled him back with a yank that surprised him with its fierceness.

Wait, she whispered.

There was silence from the men. Eyulf could hear the snap of embers as the fire settled in the hearth but that was all.

I will teach him and we will see what becomes of him, Tahvo. It is not easy, this path you set him upon. I cannot say if he can tread it safely.

Do what you will with him then, Tahvo said in a pleased growl.

I leave in four days. I will take him when I go. Arnett sounded resigned to the task.

His father made some reply to the Mage but Eyulf did not listen. He and Aila slipped from the nook and sped away.

He said yes, Aila! I cannot believe it!

She laughed, turned about as they ran and pulled him to a halt as they reached the doors to the great hall.

You will do it, Eyulf! I know you will, she said with a shy smile.

He gave her a grin and took her hands.

I will show them! You wait!

They entered the festivities once more and for a while, he almost forgot the shame he felt at his father's words.

Part I

Autumn

AD 1011

Chapter 1

He came from out of the setting sun and found the bear grazing in a glade at the edge of the forest, its attention fixed on the ripened berries on the brambles.

The light and dark browns of his rough hide clothing let him blend into the mottled light in the woodlands. With the sun behind him it was but a moment before the creature saw him.

Jaakko cursed the wind that came up from the plains behind him to carry his scent to the lumbering beast. It reared, sniffed the wind then dropped its front paws back to the earth and charged him.

There was no time for the bow, its string loosened for travel. He grasped one of his spears, let the others fall to the ground before him and crouched.

His first spear caught it in the neck. There was no time to throw a second. He simply lifted another spear from where it lay at his feet and braced it with the toe of his boot. He held tight and put all the weight his wiry frame could offer into his stance.

The force of the animal’s charge drove the bronze tipped shaft deep into its chest. Too close a fight to suit him; he had intended to stalk deer and left his dogs behind.

Half the week gone with no signs, then a kill two hours from home. My luck runs as patchy as ever, Jaakko mused. He had traveled too far in search of prey and he hated to return without something to show for his labors.

He jammed his rough wool cloak and leather shirt into his pack before he began to dress the bear. Merrina had made him the cloak and lined it with fur pelts he had cured one winter. It kept him warm when he slept away from the hut and he was reluctant to get blood on it. The soft scraped-leather breeches and shirt were easy to replace. He made them himself from deerskin.

He worked as quickly as he could while he skinned and carved the carcass. He grew warm despite the autumn breeze that blew stray bits of his thin blond hair across his face. He kept it from reaching his shoulders whenever he could get Merrina to cut it.

He rued the meat left behind but it was late. He had far to go to if he wished to see his bride and their babe, feel the comfort of his bed tonight.

He made a makeshift travois from his spears and the skin of the bear, with the fur folded inside the skin. He laid the meat and skull atop, wrapped in some leaves, hoisted the poles and set a steady pace.

It was easy going for him on a well-known trail. As he neared the edge of the deeper woodland, the weight of the meat and sodden skin he carried created a steady ache, a burning in the muscles across his shoulders, back, and legs.

Something in the breeze bothered him. Strange gusts came and went through the rapidly darkening woods without any continuous direction.

There is an odd wind tonight, the huntsman thought. He dropped the wooden poles he carried to the ground and knelt.

The boughs whipped above him and then ceased gradually. The rustle of the leaves slowly quieted after the sound of the gust faded but wind still made the boughs tremble. He knelt on the path to watch the foliage above flash from dark green to almost white as the remains of the gust flipped them over and back.

He waited, listened intently.

The woods stilled as if everything had pulled in a sudden breath with the passage of the wind and was afraid to exhale. He listened, straining to catch the first sound after the gust. He realized that his heartbeat thumped in his ears and his own breath burned seeking release.

He let his breath out slowly and then breathed deep through his nose. Jaakko drew the scents of the forest in and set his mind to identifying them.

Mosses, fungi and the wet smell of decomposing leaves were familiar smells to the woodsman. The odor of the juniper, pine and the musty smell of the old oaks, he quickly recognized. He paid little thought to the sweet smell of blood on his hands and arms.

There it was. A sharp smell in the air. It grew more elusive as the moments passed.

He relaxed some as the strange wind and smell abated. He suddenly felt the tension that had built up in his limbs tighten into a knot in his shoulders.

The throb of his pulse slowed and faded back to obscurity while he listened to the forest come back to life around him, yet he found his brows knit into a scowl. His eyes were glints of dark blue as they swept back and forth.

He stood, grasped the handles of his spears and continued his trek home.

The meat would feed his family. He did not prefer the taste of bear himself. It would do until he found better prey.

He would scrape the inside of the hide free of the tendons and gristle that once held it to the body and let it set in the sun until the soft skin hardened to leather. It should fetch a good price with some chieftain. The warlords all valued bearskin as a display of power and wealth, all the more so as bear became scarce in the northern woods.

The huntsman broke through the trees and paused to look about him. He stepped out into a short stretch of grassland that appeared to burn with a red glow. The sun had set below the horizon. It still cast its light on the clouds above and, with the night sky growing ever darker behind him, it looked like a wave of flame across the plains.

A reddish purple smudge of reflection shone at him like a beacon fire from the surface of the lake.

Da is almost home, baby boy, he whispered.

He waded into the tall grass and ignored the green and brown stains the broken brush left behind on his arms and clothes. He kept sight of the black stretch of forest that broke away from the deep woods and trudged the remaining distance to the edge of the lake. He arrived as the last sliver of light fled from the horizon.

Home is little more than a mile away if I had a boat.

The thought tempted him for a moment.

He could see the rounded mossy shape of a coracle staked to the shore. He could use it, he knew, and Niilo would not begrudge him the use of it but Jaakko decided against it.

It is barely a league home around the lake, and I will not need to return it if I just walk round.

He shifted his hands on the poles he carried, and grimaced at the sticky feel of the blood and offal that stayed wet from the sweat running down his arms.

I will walk the faster once I have cleaned up a bit, he decided.

He paused to watch the lights flicker and dance from the windows of his village across the lake. He dropped the handles of the litter and sat down on the boat to remove his boots.

He stepped into the water and waded out until the water covered his chest. It was still warm from the heat of day but he knew he would be chilly when he emerged from the lake into the night breeze.

He would walk faster to regain his lost warmth during his hike around to the village.

He shuddered as the water washed over his shoulders and neck. He drew in his breath and submerged his body completely. He floated in the dark for a moment then began to wipe the grime from himself and his stained trousers.

The wind whipped around him in a sudden gust as he surfaced, a sound like the whipping of bed clothes on the drying line beside their hut on a windy day.

A black shape passed over him and made its way over the lake. He could feel its passage above him, a pressure that seemed to pull a sick dread into his guts.

He squinted, trying to make out the form; water dripped into his eye to blur his vision until it was too late to see it.

He shivered once, not just from the night air on his sodden clothes. He had heard rumors from travelers from the north, stories of winged beasts killing entire homesteads.

He shook his head wildly to shed excess water, and then held still, as a lifetime of hunting skills fell on him without thought.

He scanned the lake, his eyes darting up and down, side to side. He looked for movement or shadows that should not be over the lake. There was no moon to shed any light near him, only the dim windows of the distant village growing quiet for the night.

Moments passed slowly, seemed like an age to his anxious mind.

There!

The sudden motion of trees at the edge of the forest drew his eye, just a change in the shape of the village windows as the shadow of a tree bent to obscure the glow of firelight. He could see leaves and limbs whipping abruptly where there was no wind just a moment before.

He watched a shadow settle on the dead remains of a great oak on the edge of the village. A sinuous neck swayed back and forth.

The black veil of the beast’s wings flapped, silhouetted in the light of the village hall on the hill. The dark shape grew steady even as the tree swayed beneath its weight.

The creature grew still. The hunter felt his body tighten and he realized that once again, he had forgotten to release his pent breath. He began to walk backward to the shore, strained to keep his gaze fixed on the beast.

He stumbled as his foot struck something in the muck. In the instant his gaze left it, the reptilian form disappeared, hidden from his frantic gaze.

His steps grew more certain with each pace as the water grew more shallow. He moved his eyes back and forth trying to pick the winged apparition out of the darkness again and caught sight of it as it reared its neck. The undulating form tipped its head to sniff the night air.

Then it spread its wings, and dove for what Jaakko knew was a sheep pen on the edge of the village square.

The black form swooped up for a moment then plunged onto a gray shape in the pen. He lost sight of it as it dropped below the lights on the hill. He heard the faint bleats of distress from across the water moments later.

The beast leaped once more and he saw the hellish form perch for a moment on the thatched roof of a house, then leap away out of his sight and into the town proper.

He ran then.

Chapter 2

Eyulf did not need light or warmth for what he attempted. He would enjoy both, instead of huddling in the dark with his long fingers pressed against the unyielding cold stone of the cavern. He could manage without. He had managed without many comforts since leaving home.

He need not have touched the stone either. It was a bad habit and he hated it. Try as he might he was unable to break himself of it.

He drew the back of his hand across his forhead to push strands of dark, lank hair away from his eyes. It was longer than he liked and proved an irritation to him now. He could ill afford distraction.

His clothes were as unkempt as his hair. The dyed blue and green linen cloth of his tunic and breeches were covered with dust from the tunnel around him.

And they hang off of me as if I were a beggar, he thought with a grimace. He slept sporadically and food was an after-thought on most days. He had long since shed the baby fat he had held when he came to train with Master Arnett. His training with the Mages left little time for tending anything but his mind and voice.

Even with all of his time spent on studies, there were things he had yet to grasp. He should be able to call the magic without touching anything at all, they all told him. It was all from the Rune, the ancient songs. His master could sing a chorus of Elements into being one clear note at a time. And Eyulf had listened once while a group of singers raised a harmony that drew an infection from a man's wound like a snake from a burrow.

Arnett bid him to submerse his thoughts into it as one sinks into a warm bath. He did not need to touch the water with his hands to get wet, as the impatient Mage lectured him. He only had to be in the water.

One should simply be aware of the power to immerse oneself fully in it. It was as simple as that.

Ballocks, Eyulf swore. They make it sound so easy.

It was not as easy as that for him. He could not hear the Runes until his fingers could trace them.

He felt more as if he fell into a cold lake when he sought the magic.

Nothing, nothing, nothing and then a sudden rush of sound and power that left him befuddled if he failed to lay hold of it quickly enough. When he tried to call the magic, it felt like he Sang with a mouthful of pudding.

He reached out slowly again, to the twisted lines of enchantment he knew lay behind the stone. He tried to slip his mind out into the darkness and failed. He skittered off the invisible walls of magic, as a stone would skip across water. The stone at least would stop its travels and just sink into the water.

The Runes, while they followed many of the rules that nature displayed, would never permit the passive entry of one who sought to master it. Eyulf would bounce endlessly around its edges until he grasped hold, until his hum or wordless tones matched the Elements he sought or he gave up.

Or it kills me. There is always a chance of that.

His mind pushed forward and he reached for the Elements with all the concentration he could muster. He hummed a long tone that drew his thoughts through the stone.

He could always sense it there. It danced just beyond his grasp of it, taunted him with his failures.

He was quite skilled with magic when he could reach it; his master gave him commendations for creativity in his lessons.

Arnett admitted that Eyulf found unheard of ways to use the magic in his lessons. As had other Mages he had met as he trained. Maybe it was because he had to struggle so against the push and pull of the magic’s current.

He managed to catch hold of the Elements and felt them fill him with a rush of sensation. He hummed the Rune for Earth and made it match the sound he heard from the stone around him.

I have my feet under me now, he grinned to himself. Let the waves push all they want. I am a rock.

He knew it was a dangerous thought and chided himself for it. The scrolls held countless names of men and boys, strong and weak, Masters and fledglings. Magics users who had miscalculated and who had paid a steep price for it.

He let himself float, blissful, in the warm tingle of magic that filled him, the sounds of Elements through the chamber beyond. He took just a few moments, and then wrapped his awareness around the writhing mass of ropy magic that lay behind the stone walls.

This was his third trip to the chambers buried deep under the mountain. He had trudged for countless hours in the dark, blind to light; awash in mystical sounds as he searched for just the right point in the Barrier.

He dared not try to separate the strands that comprised the Barrier. He slid his mind this way and that to study as many tendrils as he could without touching them.

It was numbing work, painstaking and monotonous, yet exhilarating as well. One mistake and he would face dire consequences. He was uncertain as to what those consequences would be. Rumors abounded throughout the network of students.

Some said that the Barrier would seize anyone who tampered with it and hold them until Mages arrived in response to the magics trigger. Some said it would sear the ability to use magic out of them. Some said it would kill.

The combinations of results worried him as well. He listened to one apprentice’s hushed story of a boy caught in the webbed trap of the Barrier and left there during a festival week. The mages were all drunk or traveling so no one responded to the warnings the Barrier sent and he died of thirst.

Just go home, Eyulf. Take your things and go.

The cautionary thoughts had almost convinced him