The Amazing Adventures of Max & the Isdottir

OR

How to Be a Hero in 13 14 Easy Lessons*

by Helen Lashbrook

Published by Helen Lashbrook at Smashwords

Copyright 2012

Smashwords Edition Licence notes

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Then – a mechanical marvel - the Orrery - infused with magic & the power to change the world by its creator and his murderer

Leads to ...

One thousand years of war between the forces of good and evil

And now ....

One boy must take the relic out of the reaches of the evil Onda to save the world anew.

Max is ready to start his adventure.

Meeting a 50 million year old elemental being, made from snow and ice, does not happen every day; the result is Max and the Isdottir’s attempts to end a millennium of war.

The Amazing Adventures of Max and the Isdottir

OR

How to Be a Hero in 13 14 Easy Lessons*

Table of Contents

Prologue – A Technological Miracle and a Murder

Lesson 1 – Expect the Unexpected

Lesson 2 – Do not try to change the Past

Lesson 3 – Keep Moving

Lesson 4 – Adapt your Strategy and Tactics as Needed

Lesson 5 – Know Your Enemy

Lesson 6 – Rest When You Can

Lesson 7 – Know your Friends and Allies

Lesson 8 – Attack is the best Form of Defence

Lesson 9 – You Don’t Have to Kill a Dragon (But it Helps)

Lesson 10 – Do not Place too Much Reliance on Technology

Lesson 11 – Keep Everyone on Your Side Updated

Lesson 12 – Keep Ahead of Events

Lesson 13 – Be Prepared

Lesson 14 – Enjoy the Fruits of Your Labours

Glossary* Also featuring additional free hints to improve your heroic chances

Prologue – A Technological Miracle and a Murder

It all began with a murder. Well, with the Orreryi and a murder.

It is one thing to create a miracle. It is quite another to allow yourself to be murdered, as a prelude to a thousand year war .........

The only sounds were of hard pellets of snow being thrown at the shutters by the wind and the gentle murmurings of the fire, which was glowing a dull red in the stone furnace at the side of the room. The fire was pale in comparison to the glow of the forest of candles, which illuminated the central workbench. The workroom walls were partly hidden by wooden cupboards and by shelves bearing bottles filled with various coloured liquids, artefacts and metal tools. One shelf held a row of tattered books (these were for the use of the apprentices). In one corner of the room, shrouded in darkness, rough wooden planks formed stairs up to the next floor where the apprentices and journeymenii were sleeping, worn out after their long day.

In the relative silence of the large workshop Master Goldsmith and magician Lars Olssen was placing the final part of his wonderful creation, a small golden ball topped with a tiny elaborate finial, onto its only remaining empty sprocket. When that was done Lars looked down with justifiable pride at his Orrery; a spectacular –representation of the solar system, resting in splendour on the workbench. The candle forest surrounding Master Olssen’s workbench created the small area of brilliance needed to conduct work of such precision and accuracy.

The Orrery itself was fashioned of gold and many of the spheres at the end of its arms were decorated with engravings, or gleamed with precious stones, or the magical blue light of moonstones and opals. The Orrery glowed in the soft candle-light – the flickering flames were reflected on its main globe and glinted off its many arms and spheres; a beautiful, mechanical marvel, portraying the movements of the heavens; a toy for the rich and powerful.

A thickset, balding man; Lars Olssen was a master at both his trades. As well as being one of the world’s few scientists he was also one of the most knowledgeable people in the world. Lars had refused offers from many of the world’s universities to remain here in his home town, in a land where cold and darkness reigned for much of the year (due to the town’s position in the northern latitudes). Olssen’s patron, the Signor del Vecchio who had funded the cost of materials and years of research, was a powerful nobleman from a far-off southern land – the Regno Delle Due Sicilie.

Despite expecting his patron’s arrival at any moment (the goldsmith-magician had warned the Signor that the Orrery would soon be ready for collection) Lars was dressed in his working clothes; in a dirty, patched shirt with its sleeves rolled up to the elbows (the bane of Kvinna Olsseniiiwho had tried many times to throw the tattered piece of clothing away, stating it was not fit for a Master Goldsmith to wear, only to have it rescued from the rag box by her husband), under a long leather, acid stained apron.

A bottle of wine was waiting for the Signor, purchased at great expenseiv. Olssen had used some of the money given to him by the Signor to purchase the bottle, in an effort to impress and placate his patron, as the Orrery had taken longer to build than Lars had originally estimated. Much to Kvinna Olssen’s annoyance Lars had lavished many additional hours and money on ornamenting his creation, using his skills honed from his years of working as a goldsmith.

The door to the street swung open of its own accord, making the candle flames flutter wildly in the draft. The wind blew snow into the room, along with a freezing blast of air and the long-awaited visitor. The banging of the door against the wall announced the arrival of Signor del Vecchio, who turned out to be a tall dark tanned, scowling individual richly dressed in clothes stained by the weeks of travelling that he had endured. The Signor’s black riding boots were liberally splattered in mud and his fashionable hat was wet; sprinkled with the tiny pellets of snow that were even now melting in the warmth of the furnace. A thick, dark cloak hung damply around his body.

‘Where is it?’ the Signor demanded without bothering to introduce himself in his eagerness, as he strode across the mud workshop floor (more fire proof than wooden planks – elf health and safety regulations for magicians). He ignored Lars efforts to offer him a beaker of wine. His attention caught by the glow of the forest of candles, Signor del Vecchio stared at the Orrery, not with the look of wonder that Lars had expected, but with a look of almost infinite greed.

Signor del Vecchio .drew a dagger out from the gold and black leather belt around his waist and pointed it at the Orrery. He gave slightly amused glance at Lars, whose eyes had widened at the sight of the dagger, which like its owner was rich and ornate.

‘I use this as a medium for my magic’ the Signor explained to Lars, whose slight frown cleared immediately.

‘I just touch what I wish to change with magic’ he confessed to the Signor, who raised his eyebrow slightly to convey mild amusement at the backwards behaviour of those who live out in the dark lands. Lars understood immediately the meaning of the raised eyebrow and, to his annoyance, his face flushed.

So the two mismatched magicians, one with his pointed dagger lightly touching the Orrery, and the other touching his beautiful creation gently with both hands, worked together to infuse the Orrery with all the magic at their command (though I have to say that Signor del Vecchio cheated as his magic had been strengthened by his confederates from far off lands). Slowly the arms of the Orrery began to circle round, powered by the magic infused into it, and the artefact was bathed in a pale blue light. If you listened hard enough you might have heard the Orrery start singing to itself; but neither Lars nor the Signor were listening.

Lars stared in admiration at the culmination of his months of work, awestruck by the beauty of his creation, unaware that in the Orrery he had created something that others would stop at nothing to obtain. While Lars was distracted by his creation Signor del Vecchio turned quickly and struck Lars on his bare forearm, with the flat of his dagger. Lars looked down in surprise at his arm, which glowed faintly with a pale blue glow for a second or two. Suddenly Lars collapsed as del Vecchio’s magic penetrated his nervous system; his body folding silently down his long acid stained leather apron twisted half underneath the body and half across the dirt workshop floor, his blank eyes seeming to stare upwards with an expression of dismay.

Signor del Vecchio looked down at the body with another of his pronounced sneers. Then casting an eye around the room, he spied a flagon of oil on one of the shelves; the contents of which he poured over the workbench, the shelves and the first few risers of the stairs, at the base of which Del Vecchio paused for a moment, peering upwards into the dark. He obviously heard nothing for he then returned to the workbench, leant down and picked up the Orrery, hiding its pale blue glow under his long dark cloak. Signor del Vecchio then knocked over several of the candles, before throwing the remainder of the oil in the flagon at the dull furnace, starting a fire which rapidly spread. After casting a quick glance at the mayhem he had created; the flames eagerly dancing up the walls of the workshop, he then slipped out the door.

As Signor del Vecchio left the workshop with the strongest magical artefact ever created, the flames leapt from the workbench across to Lars Olssen’s body. The wooden walls of the workshop were alight and the stairs were bright with flames. The flames, pouring out of cracks in the walls and shutters, were by now lighting up the dark street despite the snow, which was falling more heavily than ever.

Signor del Vecchio carefully packed the Orrery in the saddlebag on his horse, tethered across the street. As he rode down the street the cries of the apprentices and journeymen, who had been sleeping in the rooms above the workshop, could be plainly heard. But he ignored them; cantering away from the maelstrom he had created. Now the fire leapt to the houses on either side of the workshop and people were rushing into the street.

Del Vecchio did not look back – the murderer was too busy thinking of the long journey south and more importantly of his glorious future – too indifferent to others to worry about those trapped by the fire; little realising and little caring that the Orrery would be the cause of centuries of bloody wars across the globe, centuries of murder, rape, pillage and misery. Over the next millennium thousands upon thousands of lives would be lost in the fight for control of the object of beauty carefully packed in Signor del Vecchio’s saddlebags.

Lesson 1 – Expect the Unexpected

Plan for all eventualities, then you won’t be surprised – your enemy can take advantage of any small, but significant, delay caused by your attempts to interpret what is happening, so make sure you have considered all possible options.

Once upon a time - which is how all the best stories begin - in a world far away, in days long gone, there lived a boy whose name was Max. Max lived in a small remote village in the far north of that far away world. He was not a special boy, marked out from birth for amazing things – to be a hero was not in his genes. Max was average height for his age (twelve since you ask), with the light blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin of those who live in northern latitudes.

Nothing more exciting than falling out of a tree and breaking his arm had ever happened to Max before. But today his adventure will begin. It didn’t start as his adventure, but it became his as the day wore on. Despite his un-heroic start in life Max is to be our hero and he will soon meet our heroine.

In winter the ground is