The Man With No Hands

by Toby Neighbors

  Feray caught up to Luc and the elf with him smiled as she gestured to mats where Zephyr and Eavon were already seated. Feray and Luc joined them. A pitcher of wine was brought out and cups were poured for everyone except for Luc, who was given fresh fruit to snack on.

  “We appreciate your hospitality,” Feray said, taking a small goblet of wine. “You have a beautiful home.”

  “This is just the very edge of our domain,” Zephyr said. “Our clan has many tribes throughout the forest. This,” he waved around the platform, “is the seat of counsel in what we call the Dragon Tree.”

  “The Dragon Tree?” Feray replied.

  Suddenly there was a rustling sound in the foliage above them and Crucifus’ head came down on the dragon’s long neck.

  “Oh,” Feray said. “I see.”

  “I have told the Ivory Clan of your encounter with the magical creatures across the Mountain Veil,” the dragon said, his voice seemed very loud in the peaceful village. “The elders have been summoned.”

  “One from every great family,” Eavon said. “They will be here by nightfall and we shall hear your story then. In the meantime, we can offer refreshment and rest.”

  It didn’t take long before more elves came to the platform. Feray, Orin, and Luc were given fruit and small goblets of juice. Once they had eaten, Luc was invited to play with some of the younger elves. They were lowered to the forest floor and could be heard squealing as Rolo chased them through the trees. Orin took it upon himself to look after the horses and set up camp for the night, while Feray stayed with the elves who asked her many questions about her life.

  The elves were not magic users, but had highly attuned magical senses. Feray saw tears flowing as she told them about losing Marc. She also saw worry and suspicion when she told them of her powers, which Crucifus had awakened through his magical touch.

  For his part, the dragon seemed more than content just roosting in the big tree, his massive head hanging down and around the rooftop of the platform. As more and more elves arrived, Feray could feel the festive atmosphere. She heard gentle, lilting music, and singing from the nearby trees. The elves didn’t use fire, but they had lamps filled with glowing rocks that lit the forest in an enchanting light.

  “Everyone is gathered,” Zephyr said shortly after nightfall. “We shall eat and then the deliberations can begin.”

  Feray was surrounded by the ivory-skinned, slender elves. She marveled at the graceful way they moved, the melodic sound of their voices, and the way their eyes took in everything around them. Food was brought to the platform as the elders formed a circle, sitting on mats woven from grass, tender tree bark, and the hanging moss that was so prevalent in the forest.

  Eggs of various sizes were presented to each person in the circle, including Feray. The eggs were hard boiled and as she watched, the elves gently cracked the shells with their long, delicate-looking fingers. With the eggs came more fruit, and soft bread that was sweet. Her own basket had three small eggs, sliced apples and pears, bread, and a variety of nuts still in their shells. More wine was served, and soon everyone was busy eating.

  Feray ate her dinner, hoping that Luc and Rolo were getting something to eat as well. She was just about to ask someone about them when an elf was carried onto the platform. Instantly Feray’s appetite vanished at the sight of the elf on the stretcher. She guessed the elf had fallen from a great height. His body was bruised and swollen. There were cuts on his face and hands, and the injured elf struggled to breathe.

  “This is Terreek,” Zephyr said. “He is dying as you might have guessed. He was knocked from a tree by a strange creature. Some said it was a giant bird, others a serpent. The great dragon, Crucifus the Red, tells us that you have seen these creatures.”

  Feray didn’t answer. The entire group of elders watched her as she got to her feet. She knew she needed to tell them of the danger, but she couldn’t sit by and do nothing while the elf suffered. In the air around her streaks of color appeared, mostly a vibrant green, that was very like the auras of the elves themselves, but there was also gold and silver. She felt the power of the wind as a gentle breeze wafted through the leaves. And she could sense the strong, life-affirming magic of the trees around her.

  The group of elder elves fell silent as Feray stepped close to the dying elf. The pain he was in was etched onto his broken and bloody face. She could tell that his wounds were several days old. There was even a slight scent of decay around the injured elf, and up close she could see that he was bloated from injures deep inside his slender body. She reached out toward the elf, not touching him, but sending the magic around her flowing into his broken body. The healing work seemed to take a long time, and Feray felt the strain. She was reminded of carrying the buckets of water from the stream by her home with Marc near Greenhaven. She had made that journey from the river back to their cottage every day, sometimes multiple times a day, the water buckets pulling at her shoulders and neck, compressing her spine as she walked. The magic of healing the elf was similar, but even more taxing, as if she were carrying eight or ten buckets all at once. Each minute that she willed the magic to obey her commands was difficult, but she knew a life was at stake. She couldn’t relent until the elf was completely healed.

  Finally, the magic swirled away from her, and she sank down onto her knees, and then toppled over onto her back. The elder elves didn’t move, and Feray could see Crucifus looking down at her with concern. Then the injured elf sat up, causing the elder elves to gasp in surprise.

  “I am… I am healed!” Terreek proclaimed.

  There was a lot of commotion from the assembled elves. Terreek bent over Feray, a look of wonder on his face.

  “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Feray said, “just a little tired is all.”

  “You healed me,” he said. “I was dying. How did you do it?”

  “Yes,” Zephyr added. “Tell us how you did this, Feray of the Darnish Counties.”

  “How? I’ll tell you how,” Crucifus said in a loud, commanding voice. “She is a sorceress, that’s how!”

  There was more commotion and Terreek helped Feray back to her feet. She felt slightly dizzy, but it passed quickly and she returned to her seat. Terreek was questioned by the elders about what had knocked him from the trees.

  “I was attacked by a creature with the body of raptor and two long, serpentine legs. It snatched me from the tree, along with Serief, and was carrying us away, when it suddenly dropped me. I’m not sure why it let me go, but I didn’t fall out of the tree, I was dropped from mid-air.”

  “It’s a miracle you survived,” said Eavon. “But the creatures you describe do not exist.”

  “I have seen them,” Feray said. “A flock of them attacked my companions and me on the far side of the Mountain Veil. We were in the Evergreen Forest, just this side of the Kinsey River. They came after sundown, dropping out of the dark sky, trying to carry us away. I killed two of them, my companion killed one as well, but not before a member of our party was carried away.”

  “Can you describe them?” Zephyr asked.

  “They were eagles, only larger, their bodies suffused with magic. Their legs were removed and replaced with the bodies of snakes. I’m not sure what kind, but I could feel the magic that fused them together.”

  “This is impossible,” said another of the elvish elders. “The creatures do not exist. You cannot crossbreed an eagle with a serpent.”

  “It wasn’t bred,” Feray argued. “It was magically formed. I do not know how, but someone, somewhere is bonding together the bodies of different creatures.”

  “We have heard rumors of elves disappearing,” said another elder. “Perhaps they were snatched from the trees like Terreek and his friend, Serief.”

  “Magic has returned to the Mossy Woodlands,” said another elder. “We cannot deny it.”

  “Perhaps we are seeing the instigator of this foul magic right here,” said another elf, this one with a patch over one e
ye. “Has not this human just demonstrated her ability to transfigure an elf? Do not be fooled because she healed Terreek. That same power could be used to create the creatures she describes.”

  “Ozlow, don’t be a fool,” Terreek argued. “She saved my life.”

  “And I’m sure you’re grateful,” the elf replied. “But how can we know she isn’t using her magic for ill purposes? The very reason magic is shunned by our clan is that it is unpredictable and highly susceptible to evil. If this human hasn’t fallen into temptation to abuse her power yet, it is only a matter of time. Better that we cut it off now, at the source, than risk another war.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Crucifus snapped. “You cannot hide forever. Magic made this world. It formed my kind, and yours. We are children of it, and cannot exist without it. It is time we stepped from the shadows of the past and looked to the future. Feray is not evil, and though her power is great, it isn’t limitless. She has left her home and all that she knows to follow the magic wherever it beckons her. We must learn from her example and do the same.”

  “We are not as hardy a species as you, old friend,” Zephyr said. “We know our place and do not seek more.”

  “Someone seeks more,” Crucifus growled. “Somewhere there is a sorcerer with great power that must be stopped. Such evil will only spread, corrupting all that it touches.”

  “What we must concern ourselves with,” Ozlow said, “is only what we can control. If there is another sorcerer in the Western Realm it is not of the Ivory Clan and not our responsibility.”

  “Is that not the attitude that ushered in the dark age of Mastiphus the Terrible?” another elder asked.

  “We cannot sit idle and do nothing, not if stopping this evil is within our power,” said yet another elder.

  “All that I am asking,” Crucifus implored, “is that you send representatives to the council I have called on the High Plains. Together, we can face anything this evil sorcerer may be plotting.”

  “It is folly to leave the trees,” Ozlow said. “You will not see the haughty Silver Clans leaving their aspen grove. Nor the Golden Clans their refuge by the sea. This is not our fight, nor our burden to bear. We have borne enough.”

  Feray listened to the elders debate the invitation. She was quickly forgotten by everyone except for Terreek, who stayed beside her through the evening. It was approaching midnight, and the elders were no closer to reaching an agreement, when Feray felt something. She was just about to ask if anyone else felt the presence of intruders, when a scream echoed through the trees. The council fell silent, everyone peered into the shadows in the direction the scream had come from, when suddenly a creature unlike anything Feray had ever seen before flew onto the platform. Feray screamed when she saw it, and the elves scattered. Crucifus roared, but there was little the great dragon could do without damaging the elven city.

  On the platform, across from where the elves had gathered around Feray, was a huge wolf, with the head of a man and the wings of an eagle.

  “Turn the humans over to us, or die,” the creature said.

  Howls sounded from below the platform and angry shouting could be heard. All Feray could think of was Luc, and she knew she had to get to him as quickly as possible.

  Chapter 17

  Feray didn’t think, nor did she hesitate. She jumped from the platform, her body diving toward the ground as golden magical light swirled around her, slowing her fall, swinging her body forward until she landed easily on her feet. In the clearing around the great Dragon Tree, Orin had arranged their camp, hobbling the horses and making sure they had plenty to eat. He had spread soft piles of moss and fern leaves to make beds for them, covering each pile with a blanket. The fire he had kindled was little more than embers, and it was difficult to see in the darkness on the forest floor, but Feray saw the menacing red glow from the pack of wolves that surrounded Orin, who had Luc in his arms. The big man had a crude club in his triangular flipper appendage, but Feray knew it would be of little use against the massive wolves.

  The first of the huge brutes rushed at Orin, snapping low at his leg, only to get caught with a massive kick that sent the wolf crashing onto its side, howling with pain. Another jumped for Orin, who dropped to his knees so that the wolf sailed over him. The first two attacks had been thwarted, but the third caught Orin unprepared. The creature came rushing in, its massive jaws snapping at Orin, who turned his back to protect Luc. The dire wolf would have killed Orin easily, but Rolo leaped to his defense. The dog was much smaller than the huge wolves, but he was fearless just the same. Rolo’s leap caused the wolf to hesitate and Rolo’s formidable teeth sank into the wolf’s neck. The dire wolf howled as it flung Rolo away with a shake of its head and darted back to the safety of the pack, blood dripping from its fur.

  Feray, frozen with fear for the people she loved, finally got herself moving again and dashed toward the wolves. When another of the animals came rushing toward Orin and Luc, Feray caught the beast in mid leap, wrapping a web of magic around its huge body and sending it flying high over their heads. The vicious creatures were barking and snapping at the trio as Feray reached Orin, but they were no longer attacking.

  “What are they waiting for?” Orin asked.

  “I don’t know,” Feray said.

  “Mama!” Luc shouted.

  “Stay with Orin,” she told her boy, knowing the man with no hands would die before he let anything happen to her son.

  “There’s something else coming,” she warned him.

  “I can’t see anything,” Orin complained.

  Feray could see a glow of magical power. It was strangely dim, not weak, but so twisted and dark that it seemed like a faint glow in the darkness. She let the strength of the earth at her feet surge up into the dying embers of Orin’s fire. Flames shot upward, white hot and casting a bright light through the trees. What she saw took her breath away. Huge men were charging toward them. Their bare upper bodies glistened with sweat, but their waists and legs were covered with thick fur. Their claw hands were reaching for her, and Feray didn’t hesitate. She knew they were coming to kill her, and the revulsion of the creatures made it easy to act without any compassion. They weren’t men anymore, just hate-filled abominations of pure evil.

  The flames of the fire suddenly changed direction as Feray fed more magic into them. They bent, and split into three beams shooting for the charging men. The fire hit them square in the chest, charring flesh and setting their hair and fur on fire, but not stopping them. As the flames died away, they continued moving toward Feray. She could hear the shouting from above, and the snapping of tree limbs. Crucifus roared and she felt a wave of pain from the big dragon, but she couldn’t worry about it. From the corner of her eye she saw a wolf with an elf in its maw, carrying the unconscious elf away. She knew she had to do more, but she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “Rolo and I will handle these three,” Orin said, setting Luc down beside his mother. “You watch those damn wolves.”

  Feray nodded as Orin stepped out to meet the closest of the three men. They were bigger than Orin, taller and thicker in the chest, but the fiery blast had hurt them. They had blisters across their skin, and much of the shaggy fur was burned away. They came limping toward the big warrior, unwilling to give up, but obviously in no shape to fight him.

  Orin raised one leg and drove his foot forward in a vicious, downward kick that hit the nearest bison man in the knee. The animal legs were massive, but the joint buckled under Orin’s attack. The man howled in pain as he fell to the ground. A second kick, this one to his chin, snapped the man’s head back hard and a sharp crack was heard that made Feray’s blood run cold.

  One of the wolves had returned, this one was even bigger than the others, and an elf sat perched on its back. The wolf lingered several yards from the fight, the elf on its back watching as Orin ducked under the next man’s clumsy swipe with his talon claws, and Orin drove his elbow into the blistered flesh at the man’s stomach. As the bison ma
n doubled over Orin swept the man’s hoofed feet out from under him. The creature fell with a crash and a whoosh of breath.

  The elf on the wolf’s back reached out toward Orin, and a bolt of orange light shot toward the man with no hands. Feray reacted instantly. She sent a surge of strong earth magic rising up from the ground in front of Orin to form a rust-colored magical wall, blocking the orange magic, which erupted in a flash of light. The elf then turned to Feray, a look of fury and hatred twisting his features. His next spell came streaking toward her. Feray raised another shield to protect her from the blast, but the orange spell sailed wide and she realized too late that it wasn’t aimed at her. The orange magic streak hit a nearby tree, which splintered several feet from the roots that sank deep into the ground. The tree creaked as it swayed, the limbs high up on the tree began snapping and breaking.

  “Look out!” Feray shouted to Orin, who had just kicked the third bison man in the chest, driving him backward but not off his feet.

  Rolo came bounding toward Feray, and Orin followed him as the tree dropped with a thundering crash. Feray felt a wave of horror as elves flew through the air. She used her power to levitate and save three of them, but many more fell hard onto the forest floor. The bison man had been caught under the falling tree and crushed to death, and when Feray looked, the wolf with the elf on its back was gone.

  “We lost the horses,” Orin said.

  Feray turned and saw the ropes they had been tied with on the ground, torn and tattered. She hoped that meant they bolted in fear, not that they had been dragged away by the huge wolves.

  “Mama!” Luc wailed, as she hugged him close. His hands were locked around her neck, his face buried in her chest. There were shouts for help and screams of pain all around them, and the darkness had returned. It felt like a nightmare, and Feray guessed that was exactly what it was. The only redeeming aspect of the attack had been that Feray had seen the evil sorcerer. At least she guessed the elf she’d seen riding on the wolf had been a sorcerer, and she hoped he was the one behind the mutated creatures. It didn’t help that he was an elf with ivory skin, but it narrowed down the possibilities of who the terrible sorcerer was.