by A. J. Walker
Max rolled his eyes and sat next to Anders on the side of the trail. Whispering, he asked, “Did you get the feeling he wasn’t telling us the whole story?”
Anders nodded and replied, “He’s hiding something all right.”
Once they’d set up camp, Anders and the four others set out in search of firewood while Ivan went hunting for their dinner. By the time they returned with armloads of sticks and sizeable broken branches, Ivan was already preparing a small deer he’d killed. Anders noticed that the deer didn’t have any arrow wound like he’d seen in the deer he’d hunted. The deer was definitely dead; Ivan had already begun slicing off pieces of meat for their meal.
Anders and the others sorted the wood they’d gathered into piles according to size and diameter.
“The key to preparing a good fire is first to have four different-sized wood piles ready when you go to light it,” Red said as if he were showing them how to build a fire for the first time. “First you need two large handfuls of straw-sized twigs, then a bundle of finger-sized wood. Next, a bundle slightly larger in diameter goes on the fire. And finally, once that’s burned and you have your bed of coals, put on your larger logs.” He demonstrated by lighting some dry grass and placing the bundles on one at a time as he spoke.
Anders leaned over to Max and whispered, “I’m not a child. I know how to build a fire.” They both rolled their eyes and tried to ignore Red’s arrogant demonstration.
“Or,” Ivan said. “You can do this.” He pointed to a log that was not on the fire and whispered to himself. The log burst into flames and he chuckled.
“Not all of us are magicians,” Red said angrily.
“Thank the gods for that,” Ivan said in response. “That is the last thing this world needs, more sorcerers to mess up what the natural world already provides. And only non-magical people call us magicians; the proper term is sorcerer.”
Anders thought it was strange that he had that kind of outlook on magic, seeing as he was someone who could wield it.
“I see the magician has regained his strength,” Red said mockingly.
Ivan shot him a deadly glare that made Red turn away from him and continue to put wood on the fire. Ivan went back to preparing the meat for the six of them. Soon all of them had bellies full of fresh venison. They washed it down with the crisp cold water gathered from a nearby creek. Exhausted from the day’s travel, they were all sound asleep before long.
The next day they walked across the base of the Sharpstone Mountain Range. Anders hiked at a distance from the others using the time alone to ponder during their trek. He was angry with Red for not seeing that the storm they sailed into was a trap and Ivan for not stopping it, but mostly he missed his cousins. They were like brother and sister to him. Anders controlled his anger by keeping his thoughts to himself and staying away from the others while he fumed in solitude.
He also used this time to think about Theodor and Ivan’s shared history. He wanted to know if Ivan was born with the ability to use magic or if he became magical through some kind of transformative process. Anders could tell there was more to what Ivan told him about his relationship with Theodor and considered asking him about it. Before he did, Anders remembered that Ivan told him there was a time and a place where he would tell Anders everything, besides Anders was still irritated with Ivan, so he decided to wait.
Anders found it difficult to trust Ivan because he didn’t know much about him, but it did seem as though Ivan was doing everything in his power to help as he had agreed on the ship. Anders found himself realizing that he only really trusted Max, who had never given him any reason not to.
Ivan had them set up camp that night in the center of a long narrow valley. He wanted Anders to accompany him while he hunted for their supper, so Anders agreed and brought along his bow and three arrows. They hadn’t been gone long before a thick fog surrounded them. It wafted through the air and blanketed the two so they couldn’t see much farther than their immediate surroundings. Ivan told Anders not to worry about getting lost as long as he stayed close to him, because he could sense where camp and the others were.
The setting sun could only be seen as a bright orange circle through the fog. It dropped steadily lower, nearing the horizon. Ivan had killed three rabbits with his mind, snapping their necks as they tried to escape. It was getting dark when he suggested they head back to camp.
Anders bent down to pick up the last dead rabbit. As he scooped it into his hand, he thought he saw a person standing in front of him through the fog. When he looked closer, it was gone. Anders got Ivan’s attention by making a ‘psst’ noise.
“I think I saw someone in the fog just now,” he said.
“That’s strange,” concern flooded Ivan’s voice. “I don’t sense anyone.”
The two of them peered intently toward where Anders had seen something or someone. Then Anders saw the dark shape again, this time moving. It slunk low to the ground and darted from behind a boulder to a nearby tree.
“There!” Anders said, pointing to the shadowy figure as it moved across the misty foreground.
Ivan shot a burst of energy from his hand toward it. Anders saw chunks of bark blow off the tree and knew he’d missed. Anders drew his bow and aimed toward the tree where he’d last seen the figure. He moved closer toward it, arrow nocked and ready to fire. The shadowy figure bolted as soon as Anders drew near. He let his arrow fly; shooting in the direction he saw it fleeing. There was a screech and he knew he’d hit it.
The two of them approached the figure with caution. Anders had struck it right in the side, mid-ribcage. Getting a good look at it, he didn’t know what kind of creature it was. He’d never seen anything like it. It had two arms and legs in the same way humans do, but its skin was dark green in color and the creature had wiry gray hairs covering most of its body.
“What is that?” Anders asked curling his upper lip in distaste.
Ivan knelt down beside it and began searching its pockets for anything of value. “It’s a goblin,” Ivan said. “My guess is it’s a scout, probably one of a group of scouts. There will be more, lots more. Goblins travel in hordes and move quickly. We need to go.”
He paused at the sound of light footsteps trotting up behind them. Ivan turned and to see another goblin and swiftly shot his hand out, snapping its neck with an accurately placed flow of energy.
“We need to get back to the others,” Ivan said. “The only reason we’re not already dead is because of this fog.”
Together they ran back down to camp. Seeing them come sprinting from out of the fog, the others rose to attention.
“Put that fire out and get your things, we need to leave now!” Ivan commanded, kicking dirt over the flames of their newly made campfire.
“What’s going on?” Red asked, confused but helping stomp out the fire because of Ivan’s serious tone.
“Goblin scouts,” Ivan said quickly. “We killed two of them in the fog. There will be a horde behind them.”
“The rumors were true,” Max said as he scrambled to find his few belongings.
Within a minute they’d erased any sign of having made a camp. Ivan used his magic to disguise the smoldering coals as a pile of rocks. Together they moved down a shallow gully and ran as fast as they could in the direction of Brookside.
Soon it was pitch black and Ivan figured they had ran far enough to stay hidden and out of the way of the goblins behind them. They found a small cave to sleep in for the night. The group went without dinner or the warmth of a fire.
While lying on the cold rocky cave floor, Anders whispered to Ivan, “Why couldn’t you sense the goblins when they were so close to us?”
Ivan responded, “They are magical creatures, Anders. Though their magical abilities are primitive, the powers they do possess are very strong. If a goblin is trained, he or she can be a very skilled wielder of magical energy. All goblins can instinctively prevent their minds from ever being discovered by
other magical beings. They’re truly nasty creatures and are always causing mischief wherever they go. They only possess one weakness; goblins will do almost anything for gold. Did you notice I searched the one you killed? He was carrying gold, but I never feel bad taking gold off a goblin, because you know they did something terrible to get it in the first place. The way I see it, taking it off their dead bodies puts it back into the hands of hard-working people; I’ll use it to buy and trade at markets. Do you know what those goblins would’ve done if they had captured us?”
Anders shook his head.
“If those goblins had gotten ahold of us, they would’ve tortured us for fun, then killed us and taken anything of value for themselves. It was lucky that fog hid our presence, otherwise we would find ourselves in much different circumstances.”
Anders shuddered at the thought of being tortured by one of those nasty creatures. The world outside Grandwood was all very new to him and he was just trying to get through it to save his cousins.
“Get some rest. We’ll need our strength for the last leg of our journey tomorrow,” Ivan said rolling onto his side and closing his eyes.
The following morning, the tired group filed one-by-one out of the cave. The six of them walked low staying below the skyline so they wouldn’t be seen by any goblins that may be wandering nearby.
“They’ll be on the lookout for whoever killed their two scouts,” Ivan said to the group before leaving the cave. “So we’d better stay low and stick to the gullies.”
By noon they had made it a good way across the base of the mountains west of Brookside. Looking down into the valley below, Max was the first to spot the small town.
“We should be safe to walk on the road now that we’re closer to Brookside,” Max said. “We have patrols who keep the outskirts of town safe from bandits and other nasty things.”
They found the road that led to town and stuck to it for the rest of the day. They passed several small farms and people riding in wagons full of early-season harvested goods as they came into town. At the gate they stated their names and business to the guards, who let them in.
“I’m tired. Take us to an inn where we can get a good meal and hot bath,” Ivan said to Max upon entering the town. “We’ll attempt to send word to the Rollo warships and find old man Solomon tomorrow.”
Max nodded and took them to the Brookside Inn where they devoured a warm meal and scrubbed the journey’s dirt and bad luck off in a hot bath.
Chapter Seven
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Solomon the Wise
ANDERS AND MAX NESTLED up at the pub on the main floor of the Brookside Inn and ordered a couple of pints. The frothy brew was a refreshing delicacy they hadn’t had since before the Grandwood Games. The only indulgence they’d had since leaving Grandwood was an occasional sip of mead with Red’s crew back on the ship, but that was hardly comparable to the luxury of a full mug of brew.
Anders took a sip of his brew and asked, “So who is this old wise man we’re going to see tomorrow?”
“He’s been around these parts for as long as anyone can remember. Some say he’s a sorcerer using magic sparingly to keep himself alive. I think that’s a bunch of hooey, though. He lives in the hollow of an old oak tree just outside town. My folks used to tell me Solomon would hang out in this pub and tell strange stories. He got a reputation for being a bit loony; no one takes his tales seriously. I felt bad for him because he stopped coming here when I was little so I used to go keep him company, letting him entertain me with his wild stories. He likes to chitchat. If you let him, he’ll talk your ear off,” Max said and sipped the frothy foam layer from his mug.
“And Ivan thinks he can help us to track down Thargon?” Anders said it more as a statement than a question. Slugging down the rest of his brew, he pulled the mug from his lips, slammed it on the bar top and said with a smile, “I think I’ll have another.”
Max gulped down the last of his mug to keep up with Anders. With an audible belch, Max said, “I could do with a second as well.”
Soon the two had downed six pints between the two of them and were feeling in high spirits.
“We should probably get to our rooms before we aren’t able to wake up with the others. Ivan wouldn’t be happy with us if we weren’t able to make the walk to Solomon’s,” Anders said, rising from his seat.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Max replied, stumbling a bit on his way off the stool. “Wow,” he said, catching himself on the bar. “Either that was a strong batch or I haven’t had a decent drink for far too long.”
The following morning Anders woke before dawn, the streets below their small room at the Brookside Inn lay silent as the town slumbered. The early morning sky was at its blackest just before sunrise. A thin layer of frost had formed around the window in their room. Ivan was already up and adding kindling to the wood stove. Anders stayed in bed half asleep until he heard the teapot whistling.
Pulling the covers off the bed and forcing himself up right, Anders grumbled, “Tea ready yet?”
Ivan extended his arm out and handed a hot mug to Anders who continued to slouch on the edge of his bed.
“Thanks,” he said and wrapped his hands around the warmth of the mug. The water spread a comforting sensation to the rest of his body as he sipped the hot tea. “Are we going to Solomon’s place soon?” he asked once the caffeine had begun to take effect.
“We leave in ten minutes, so you’d better get your boots on,” Ivan answered. He walked over to Max, who was still asleep in his bed and shook him by the foot, saying loudly, “You hear that boy? We leave in ten minutes.”
Max groaned, rolled over to face the wall, and pulled the wool blankets over his head. “Five more minutes,” he said in a muffled voice.
“We will leave without you,” Ivan said and walked back over to the stove.
“We should probably get the Rollos up if they’re coming with us,” Anders said, stuffing his feet into his boots.
“Red and his two men have another important task to complete today,” Ivan said. “They need to send word to their people’s ships to let them know what happened to us. Hopefully the warriors haven’t already passed here or we’ll have some catching up to do.”
With one minute to spare, Max rolled out of bed fully clothed and poured a mug of hot tea, “Ready,” he said, burning his mouth on the hot water and trying to shake the heat off his tongue.
Together the three walked out of the inn. Max lagged behind sipping his tea, blowing gently across the surface before bringing the rim to his lips for more of the caffeinated drink. The sun had risen enough so they could see Brookside in the early morning light. Anders was glad to be back in a community again, even though he’d never been to this town before. There was something familiar about the place that brought him comfort.
Max talked as they walked through streets lined with small houses and businesses. Anders discovered Brookside’s namesake when they reached a brook flowing along the edge of town. The thatched roofs faded away behind them through the trees as they walked away from town. Max seemed happy to be back in his hometown, a new spring in his step as they walked along the lightly worn path.
“How far into the wood does this old man live?” Anders asked, looking intently at their surroundings and remembering the goblins they’d seen on the other side of town the previous day.
“Not much farther if I remember correctly,” Max said. “Just over this next hill.”
As the three rounded the top of the hill, Anders saw a small opening in the forest floor. At the bottom of the hill, on the edge of the opening, protruding from a large oak tree was a thatched awning. Wood smoke piped out from a broken branch serving as a chimney of the wise man’s tree house. A beam of sunlight brought a glow to the grass surrounding the front door at the base of the tree.
“There it is,” Max said as they looked down on the cabin.
“It looks cozy,” Anders said, impressed with th
e way it was built nicely into the large tree.
“Come on,” Ivan said. “We haven’t got all day.” He was the first to keep on walking down to the home.
“Is he expecting us?” Anders asked when they drew close to the front door.
“I don’t see how he would know of our visit? Last time I was here, he told me that I was welcome back at any time, and meant it,” Max said. “He doesn’t get a lot of company out here. A friendly face is always welcomed at Solomon’s.”
Ivan reached out and rapped on the wooden door with his fist. Anders heard the shuffling of footsteps and the mumbling of an old man as he scuttled over to open the door. The knob turned and the door opened with a squeaky swing inward. Standing there was a short, bearded man, almost dwarf-like in stature. His long white hair was nappy and dreaded from years of not being groomed. The different length clumps of hair poked out in all directions from under his pointy hat. Tattered wool cloths and his felt vest tied the humble hermit together. Anders smiled widely seeing the strange-looking man.
“Not at all what I was expecting,” he whispered to Max.
Solomon squinted at them through half-moon spectacles. Upon realizing who was standing on his doorstep, his white eyebrows rose high on his brow and he cracked a large smile.
“Ahhh,” he laughed. “Max, my boy, alas you have returned, and with friends as well I see. And let me get a good look at you. Oh, I remember you as well,” he said looking at Ivan. “But I don’t believe we have met before,” he said looking at Anders.
Anders introduced himself and stuck his hand out to greet the man.
Solomon put his arms up and motioned for him to come in for a hug, saying, “Shaking hands is for making deals; friends hug.”
Anders embraced the short man with a hug.
“Come in, come in! Excuse the mess, I haven’t had company in a long time,” he said ushering them inside.
The three of them crammed into the cluttered home. Many piles of books were stacked almost to the ceiling and scrolls of parchment lay unorganized in heaps on the floor. Anders saw a table thick with maps layering its top, places he’d never heard of or seen before. The maps had strange markings drawn on them, coating the original pictures with the dark ink drawings.
