Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Ridiculous. Ofan was no wizard but a daft old man who wandered out to sea in search of a fantasy. As for one's heart's desire, Robin's was to get the Fancy's cargo to his people in the Chalklands. His best chance to achieve that was to get moving.

  Oonen's words echoed. Something about being open to the possibility. Robin spared a glance at the door's keyhole and the brass charm in his hand. There was no harm in trying. He inserted the key in the fissure. A great clanking and grinding followed and then the eye-shaped rock inched out. Robin pulled the key from the lock and replaced the ribbon on Meeyoo's neck. He wasn't likely to encounter any people here that could tell him how to get to port, but he'd have a look around before going back to Nowhere. He stepped over the sill and found himself in a black cavernous space stinking of mold and decay.

  Meeyoo bounded over the threshold then slunk close to Robin's ankle.

  Robin blinked. When his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the chamber's rock walls and ceiling. The faint light filtering in from the door that stood ajar glimmered in the moisture sliming the surface.

  He went no farther. Teeth thrust down from above and jutted up from below. He heard dripping and wheezing. Smoke billowed out from the unfathomable black depths. Robin's blood turned icy and every muscle tensed, ready to fight or flee. This was indeed Perooc, its treasure guarded by a dragon, and Robin had entered its lair. The monster crouched in the depths, ready to devour anyone who drew near, the wheezing the dragon's breathing, the dripping the sound of saliva trickling from its fangs. The dragon's mouth gaped. Robin drew his sword.

  Yet he smelled not the sharp tang of spilled blood, the sickly sweet odor of decaying flesh, or the musk of a dragon's den but rather an aroma tinged with herbs. The air pluming from the distant cavity was thick with wood ash.

  What Robin had taken for teeth were the pointed spiky formations common to caves. Water dribbling from them made the dripping sound. Air whistling through the cave's crevices and bats rustling explained the wheezing.

  Robin ventured closer. A tawny light flared at the cavity's heart and burnished the walls. The smoke was not of charred flesh but of a wood fire and he heard its crackling. This was no beast's mouth. This was a cave and deep within, a fire burned.

  He edged around a rock outcropping and strained his eyes to see. In a grotto, a hearth glowed. A cauldron hung suspended from a tripod. The light silhouetted a figure, a man in a robe and a wide-brimmed peaked hat. Robin approached and the man turned to face him.

  Robin halted, unable to believe what he saw. “You are ... you are Ofan! The wizard.”

  The man grinned. In the firelight, his teeth appeared yellow.

  “But this can't be. You died, on the Fancy. We buried you, on the beach.”

  Ofan laughed. “Wizards do not die. Not like mere mortals. It is true that you, King Bewilliam, have cheated death more than once but you can die. With a word, with a wave of my wand, I could reduce you to dust faster than you can blink.” He held the staff straight out and aimed at Robin.

  Robin slashed at the wand with his blade. His weapon struck the rod with a ringing sound. A shower of multicolored sparks flew but the wand was undamaged. Ofan's laughter reverberated off the cavern walls. “You dare to strike at a wizard?” He waved the wand.

  “You would kill us? We, who rescued you when you were in need?”

  Ofan paused with his arm up. His brow furrowed, he lowered the wand. “Yes, that's right. You did.” He paced in a small circle. “Hmmm. You have a point.” He pulled on his beard then faced Robin. “King Bewilliam, it seems you have escaped death once again. A life for a life.”

  The flames in the hearth roared. Bubbles popped and cracked. Pungent steam rose from its surface like wraiths and drifted past him to the cave's entrance.

  Meeyoo stepped forward. The fire cast her shadow on the wall making it appear that a monstrous panther stalked the wizard.

  Ofan looked down and chuckled. “Ah, my familiar.” He leaned down and patted the cat then straightened and circled his wand over the cauldron. The mixture spluttered. Small eruptions released steam.

  “You orchestrated this from the start. You gave us the key. Why?”

  “You have something we need. But not to worry. I promise a fair exchange. You have succeeded and arrived at the Mouth of the Dragon. You may have your heart's desire. Name it.”

  “Nothing that requires the baseless skills of a so-called wizard. Under our own power, we will return to Nowhere, to Near and There and Here. To reunite with our cohorts. To board the Fancy. And then without delay sail to Hewnstone to deliver food to the people of the Chalklands. Our people. Come, Meeyoo. We're leaving.” The fumes had befuddled Robin's thinking and he needed fresh air.

  The wizard shrugged. “A worthy goal but that is not your heart's desire. The longing that makes you ache, that dims the light on even the brightest day and makes the dark night interminable. Speak it or forfeit the chance of ever attaining it.”

  My sons, Robin thought.

  “Your sons,” said Ofan, as though Robin had spoken, and maybe he had. “You can have what you desire. Your sons by your side. The way they were when they were youths, full of spirit, their entire long lives yet ahead of them. Learning what's needed to make men out of boys, rulers out of princes. Learning from the man who wasn't simply their father but their king. Not simply their king but their father. The most important man in their lives. You can have that. You have earned it.”

  Robin exhaled the breath he held since he entered the cave and drew in a lungful of smoky air tinged with scents he could not name.

  Ofan gave the pot another stir. “Yes, the continuity of your kingdom. You can have that treasure. It will require a potion of unparalleled potency. I knew you would come. I have prepared the concoction which requires one final ingredient. One that you can supply. If you dare.”

  The wizard bent down, stroked Meeyoo's back then grabbed her by her scruff and hoisted her level with his chest. “The very ingredient.” He extended his arm and held her over the cauldron. She hung limp but fixed Robin with frightened eyes.

  The breath Robin had just taken stuck in his throat. “No,” he croaked.

  “Precisely what the spell needs to be effective.”

  The firelight winked in the key dangling from the ribbon on her neck.

  “No. Not Meeyoo.”

  The wizard's arm dropped a degree.

  “Stop! You can't! You say you're a wizard. Think of something else.”

  Meeyoo's tail twitched, stirring the rising steam, and she curled her back legs up to her belly.

  “There is no other way. This is what the magic requires.” His arm lowered still. Meeyoo whined. “It's only a cat. A small thing but a vital component. The cat. For your sons, for your kingdom. A trifling sacrifice.”

  “No!”

  Meeyoo screeched and raked Ofan's chest with her rear paws.

  “Ow! Why you wretched little beast!” The wizard shook Meeyoo.

  From behind, a mighty rush of air swept across Robin's back. An enormous flying creature scudded over his head on a broad span of feathered wings. It swooped over Ofan and whipped him with a scaly tail tipped with what looked like a snake's head. Ofan glanced up and slapped at it with his wand. Robin reached out, snatched Meeyoo in the crook of his arm, and pulled her loose from Ofan's grasp. One-handed, he sliced at Ofan's arm with his sword. The wizard howled.

  Meeyoo clutched to his chest, Robin tore to the cave's entrance. Her saturated fur seeped through his tunic. From the grotto, he heard Ofan wail “No!” followed by a splash and the wizard's deafening screams.

  Robin raced to the door. It hung lopsided from its hinges. Claw marks streaked the inner panel as if something with great talons had reached in and yanked it wide. Robin sprang over the sill and whacked a path through the thickets.

  A gust washed the back of his neck. He looked up and caught sight of the large winged animal soaring skyward, the wizard's purple robe snagged in its forefeet
.

  A bat. It had to be a bat, Robin told himself. But did bats grow that big? Perhaps, sheltered in the Mouth of the Dragon it engorged itself to incredible dimensions. And feathers? Didn't bats have webbed wings? What about that snake-like tail, those talons ... The beast was like nothing he had ever seen. He had to have imagined it. He wasn't seeing clearly. The intoxicating fumes he breathed in the wizard's den must have distorted his perception. Filling his lungs with clean outside air as he ran would clear his head.

  He bulled his way through the thicket to the cover of the woods. When he reached a measure of safety under a tree's low-hanging branches, he sank to the ground and examined Meeyoo for wounds. Other than a slightly pinker than normal belly, she appeared unhurt. Robin's eyes stung with relief.

  He leaned against the tree trunk. Above him, a branch creaked under the weight of something heavy landing on it and sprinkled him with bits of bark and twigs. Meeyoo tipped up her chin and cooed.

  Robin wiped the blade against his leggings, cleaned his sword of Ofan's blood, and inspected the edge. The blade would need a good sharpening. He had left his oil and stone on the Fancy. “As soon as we get back on board,” he told himself.

  As his pulse and breathing slowed to normal, he scanned the horizon for Nowhere's spire. Light glimmered from afar. Could it be sunlight glinting off a body of water? Had he come full circle and reached the beach where they first landed? Full circle. He laughed aloud at the joke.

  He raised his hand to his brow to shade his eyes. As he advanced, the brightness grew. No longer a glint, it was a glow then an effulgence. Stunned, he said aloud, “Oh, it can't be ...”

  It was another wall.

  Chapter Three

  Robin faced the barrier and squinted against the radiance. The wall appeared crystalline. He could almost see through it but couldn't determine what was on the other side. He blinked but that didn't make the image any clearer.

  Robin picked up a rock and tossed it against the wall. Certain that sharp-edged shards would come flying toward him, he ducked. He heard nothing, no splintering or the thump of the stone hitting the wall. He straightened. The wall was intact but the rock was nowhere in sight.

  The wall rose so high that it disappeared into the clouds, the top beyond the range of his vision. Throughout a lifetime of incursions he had faced many an imposing wall, none anything like this.

  Legend spoke of a place where the earth and sky touched. Could this be that place? he wondered.

  Crystal or glass; the transparent substance had a sinuous pattern. No, not wavy crystal, it wasn't fixed or solid. It had motion. It was more like fabric. The sparkling, shimmering wall undulated.

  He edged closer. He expected heat but no warmth radiated off it. He heard a sound that he couldn't describe, neither a whistle nor a sizzle nor a ring, but he sensed pressure in his ears as if the wall's motion moved the air.

  Meeyoo took cautious steps toward the base.

  “Come, Meeyoo. We know not what it is. Let us return to Nowhere. Perhaps Sir Maxwell has sobered up by now, and we can be on our way.”

  Her ears perked, her whiskers twitching, the cat drew nearer to the specter.

  Robin's pulse quickened. “Meeyoo, no.” He tried to grab her but she sprang forward.

  And then was gone.

  “Oh, no, no,” he wailed. His chest tight, his eyes stung not from the blinding light but with tears of frustration and dismay, he called for her. He strained to see through the luminosity. Shifts in the brilliance suggested something in or behind it. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled, and jabbed the wall with his index finger.

  Instead of the anticipated burning or sizzling, he sensed only a tingling, not unpleasant. He put his entire hand in then pulled back. His skin appeared undamaged. He reached in up to his armpit then recoiled. If anything he felt lighthearted, energized, as on first arising, before his mind awoke to the day's tasks and the king's duties.

  He shut his eyes again, took another deep inhalation, clutched the hilt of his weapon, thrust his right leg through then pulled his left leg in.

  His eyes tightly shut, he took his measure. He seemed unchanged except for more tingling, a sensation not unlike diving into a pool of cold water after a prolonged and sweaty exertion. He wiggled his fingers, shook his arms, scrunched his toes in his boots. His body responded as it should. Something bumped his ankle. He lowered his head and opened his eyes. Meeyoo butted his leg.

  He raised his head and his jaw dropped. He saw nothing. No trees, bushes, or flowers. No meadows or fields. No mountains or hills or valleys. No rivers or lakes or ponds.

  For as far as his eye could see there was but a plane of tan featureless ground. Above spanned a cloudless firmament of a blue so pale it was pearlescent. There was illumination but Robin couldn't determine its source because he could see no sun.

  No winged things flew across the smooth silken sky, no birds or bees or enormous bats with feathered wings and snakes for tails. No creature crept on the flat ground, no horses, cows, cats, worms, or dragons.

  Nor could he spot a single building, not a construction of any kind. If a settlement existed, it was far away.

  He would have called it a wasteland but for the occupants. In the distance, people wandered about. Their height and shoulder span led Robin to assume the majority were men but it was difficult to tell. Their faces and heads were clean-shaven lacking even eyebrows. They wore no jewelry or headgear. They drifted, their bare feet barely touching the ground, like apparitions.

  “Welcome,” said a voice that sounded as much like the wind whistling as speech.

  Robin whipped around to face a person with a gentle smile and eyes like a bottomless pool of clear water. What Robin had taken for diaphanous clothing was skin so pale and bones so thin they were translucent. Air seemed to pass through the person, and he cast no shadow.

  “What is this place? Are you the guardian?” Robin asked.

  “I am No-one. This is Perooc.”

  No-one swayed which Robin took for as much of a bow as the slight figure could manage. “This can't be Perooc,” Robin said. “Anyone who knows anything about it told us we could not attain it. We are not worthy; we did not learn the laws, much less follow them. We did not know the right path. We fought no dragon. We didn't believe the place exists.”

  The man nodded. “And yet you did not hesitate to part the veil. You bravely ventured forth not knowing what you would encounter.”

  Truth be told, he did hesitate, an admission Robin kept to himself.

  “Bravery isn't about being fearless but about being driven by something more important than fear,” No-one said.

  Robin recalled having once exhorted his knights to strive for victory with the same assertion. “We were concerned about Meeyoo. She is our responsibility.”

  “Some would call it foolish to take such a risk for a simple animal.”

  “Meeyoo is not simple. Meeyoo has thoughts, feelings.” As a kitten, she had all but spoken to him, told him her name, something he wouldn't mention lest this person think he had taken leave of his senses. Now the cat sat at his feet gazing at him, her brow raised and eyes wide as if to ask, “What is this strange place?”

  “You cannot prove that,” No-one said.

  “But we know it to be true.”

  “If you can perceive a cat's feelings and thoughts then you know there is more to being than what you can touch or taste or hear or smell or feel. Open your heart, your mind, to the infinite possibilities. “

  As had those in Nowhere but Robin failed to understand how that afforded them any advantage.

  “We here have divested ourselves of the demands of our bodies to apply ourselves completely to the study of existence in all its forms. We exclude from our thoughts all other concerns, the better to comprehend the true nature of being.”

  That would explain their ethereal appearance, as though they never ate or drank or slept. These people would not offer him refreshment much less guidance to finding Hew
nstone.

  “Here you are free to dedicate yourself wholly to communion with the numinous. Now that you have arrived, we welcome you to join us.”

  “You are most gracious, but we have a kingdom to tend to. Subjects who need us, who depend on us. We will not let them down to indulge personal curiosity.”

  “But you are curious?”

  “Curiosity will have to wait. We take our leave.”

  The smile the person gave him was like the sun lighting the horizon at dawn. “Should you ever wish to satisfy your curiosity you need not return to this place. Quiet your mind and ask. Ask sincerely with all your heart and all your soul, with every cell of your body, as if your life depends on the answer.” The brilliance in his eyes dimmed for a moment. Robin would have said his eyelids dropped had he been certain the man had eyelids. “You will get one.”

  The man didn't so much walk away as waft. Robin turned in the direction from which he came but the shimmering wall had vanished. Ahead ranged the landscape that he had traveled before he spied the dragon-eye door. He spun but the sparkling wall was gone.

  He had fled the wizard's den as fast as his legs would carry him and Meeyoo but in a daze, Robin limped away from Perooc. The threat of immediate danger gone, fatigue overtook him. He was weary, in body and in spirit. The battle of wills with Ofan left him drained, the encounter with No-one of Perooc confused. His head ached as it did when he spent hours mapping out a military campaign.

  Daylight waned. He decided that with what remained of the light and his energy he should make camp, find something to eat, and rest. He would set out at first light to lead the knights back to the ship.

  Robin stopped short of Nowhere's carnival-colored meadow, foliage in familiar shades less likely to tax his overworked senses. He scouted for signs of large predatory beasts that might pose a threat. Finding none, he prepared to sleep rough, smiling as he recalled Dame Deidre's efforts to create a shelter for him. A leafy tree offered adequate protection from the elements. At its base, he mounded up springy green boughs to raise him off ground that could grow damp overnight and padded them with leaves and grass.