“I have heard folk say that the Bressilen druids are evil,” said Gil.
"That is not true," said Rodruban evenly. "No druid, no man, is inherently evil. Priests and those who obey the law are not all good. Some of the druids can become evil, if they are tempted to misuse the great chaotic powers of Nature that they learn to summon. You think druids' spells are destructive, but they learn some spells of creation. You think priests are not capable of working destruction? To cure poison for example, is, in a manner, destroying poison."
"Is it at all like wizardry?”
"Yes. Like magicians, priests and wizards use natural herbs and lore. But only a real wizard can tap into the raw elemental power of nature, and they are few. True wizardry is almost a divine gift. They have power at their bidding without the need for potions and elixirs. Many said that Ronan had the gift of wizardry. But he has been through a priest’s training and his spells are of the kind practiced by druids and priests. Some say that Myrddin himself is actually a druid. That may be how he was able to curse Ronan. I know of no priest who can summon such magic.”
"What is his curse?” asked Dylan.
"Myrddin put a curse of choosing on him, that could not be removed until Ronan made up his mind and chose a path for himself. Nothing except his own decision can free him."
"So where did Rodruban come from?" asked Lilia.
"Every three days, Ronan becomes an elf, a true follower of the priesthood and order." Mygdewyn said. "The next day, Ronan becomes Rodruban, a human rogue, a druid named after the first Bressilen druid."
"The last day, Ronan again returns to own self." Mygdewyn went on. "As an elf Ronan is quiet and unobtrusive, honest, and astute. I have found him quite easy to get along with. Animals warm to his touch. He is a master at calming and communicating with them. He does not tolerate cruelty to harmless creatures.
"Rodruban here can be too self-serving for my taste, and he likes to have his own way. He has a fondness for beautiful things—jewels, tapestries, well-bound books, and ladies. But he can be trusted, all things considered.”
There was a silence, for the surprise had not yet sunk in.
“Good, then let us tarry no further,” said Aiovel at last. “We shall have to hurry. The market closes at midday.”
* * * * *
Lilia glanced around the market stalls, inhaling the scent of spicy meat from streetside vendors. The marketplace was alive with activity. Vendors sold goods and weapons of supposed magical enchantments, all kinds of ordinary items from furniture and wagon wheels to candles and laundry soap. Little of it interested her.
The others had stopped at the meat vendor to buy dried meat to augment the other tasteless rations for their long journey. In all of the haggling, Lilia slipped away.
She tripped, surprising herself. Then, she bent down to scrutinize the large rock in the dirt street. The bright sun above fairly blinded her. She wished for a moment that she had been offered a cloak such as Aiovel’s as a gift, instead of the wand. Her own cloak was shabby and the too-large hood was always falling back—not the ideal handicap for a poor girl who had become a pickpocket. But it was a gift from her father the Silversmith shortly before she left Windfall. For that reason she had kept it, though it had never been lovely.
In truth, Lilia didn't really like pickpocketing. She had made it a point only to liberate funds from those who seemed able to afford losing a bit, and in order to survive. If she found something, she kept it; she wasn't in a position to worry about whether or not someone had lost it.
She didn't want to get rid of the last thing her father had given her, even if the cloak was getting a bit threadbare. Maybe instead of selling it, she could sell the wand instead and buy another cloak, one that would shield her delicate skin from the strong mid-summer sun. As she looked up, she saw a bright, embellished emblem painted on a wooden sign swaying in the breeze. The sign hung outside a sprawling stone and thatched-roof dwelling on the other side of the street, surrounded by an iron gate.
A magician’s guild. Her lips parted into a broad smile. So the door had been opened to sell the guild's items on the Great Market Day.
Lilia headed over to the entrance with quiet footsteps and peered inside the door.
* * * * *
"Five gold for a week's rations? We would have starved on our own, eh Rodruban?" Mygdewyn said.
“With your appetite,” agreed the druid.
“Is he a brigand?” Mygdewyn asked after a moment, regarding the merchant, if he was a merchant at all, for his attire marked him as a rider. As the merchant gave them a sidelong look, Mygdewyn imagined that the man was appraising their goods.
"I do not like the look of him, either," Dylan said quietly. “The way he is sizing up our belongings… He is a warrior, and a merchant when it suits him, I think.” The man's bad eye had been marred by a long scar that sewed the eyelid shut, and his large, callused hands also suggested he had only recently given up his previous profession.
"Perhaps, but we could not afford any of the others' prices," Galanor offered agreeably.
"I don't trust him," Mygdewyn sniffed, speaking softly. “The locals will not do business with him. How do we know the rations won't be poisoned with sleeping salts?" the dwarf continued grimly, unplacated. “And he sent to follow us and murder us in our beds?”
"Keep your voice down, or he may just do that.” Galanor sighed. “Do not trouble yourself so, master dwarf. We shall have more need of your sharp eyes, but not here. Besides, we have a druid, and he can cure poison!”
"I'll test the food before you eat it, old friend!" Rodruban said, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder.
"Galanor here is a good hunter. We will not go hungry.” Said Aiovel. “But we can ill afford the time hunting, unless we must.”
“The more potential danger is the water shortage," Galanor said. “But if we follow the course of the main springs and rivers, that should be less of a concern at present.”
“It may be our only recourse, but in that case I advise caution to you all.” Said Aiovel. “There are many creatures of the wild that linger on the edge of the water supply.”
"How shall our Sea Elf fare so far inland, do you think?” laughed the dwarf. “Where is Lilia?”
Rodruban looked about. “She seems to have disappeared.”
"I am just here," a voice said, growing louder.
Lilia seemed to appear from nowhere among them. Her velveteen silver cloak was cinched by a jeweled clasp of silver-inlaid onyx in the shape of an oval, glinting like a speckled starlit night.
"Where did you get that shadow hood cloak?!” Aiovel exclaimed, but not too loudly for the merchant to hear. “It is worth more than all of the items for sale in this marketplace," she whispered in a grave voice that managed to conceal all but a little irritation.
“I found it.” Lilia laughed in a voice like tinkling silver. “Isn’t it marvelous?”
The merchant returned with an armful of rations. He accepted Galanor's coins but bit into each one. Satisfied that they were real, he offered a chilling grimace that passed for a smile.
"Anything else?" he wheezed, and his breath was foul.
“No, that is quite sufficient for our needs.” Said Dylan. The company stowed the rations in their packs and turned into the main road.
"And now, I'd like to see about getting this sharpened," Mygdewyn said, holding up his axe.
"Halt, Renegades!!" A voice resonated through the square like thunder.
All at once, they found themselves surrounded by a group of Gyfen guards and several mercenaries allied to one of the magician's guilds.
Dylan whirled about, but the other way was blocked, too.
"And what have we done?" Dylan demanded of the leader of the guard, a tried warrior of thirty-odd years.
The warrior pointed to
Lilia, who stood strangely poised and unsurprised.
"That one has stolen goods belonging to Master Iolo, head of the Iolo Wizard's Guild," the guard said gruffly. "Master Iolo has ordered us to retrieve them. As her accomplices, you will of course bear the same penalty, but if any of you wish to surrender now, Master Iolo may be better disposed towards leniency." He waited a moment, but no one stepped forward. "Guards!" The leader cried and motioned for his soldiers to advance around the group. Several grim-faced guards in chain mail drew their swords.
"Have we given some offense—" Dylan began, but the leader cut him off.
"Attack!" The leader shouted.
Dylan and Gil drew their swords, Dylan's hands sure and his gaze steady. He only hoped Brastigus had prepared him well enough.
Gil clasped his hilt tightly, and drew his sword, but it took all his strength to bear it up. For a moment, he was unbalanced by the weight in his hands and the sword swerved in an amateur’s arc. Meanwhile, Lilia pulled the shadow hood around her and disappeared. Mygdewyn exhaled in disgust and hefted his axe with expert menace, his eyes suddenly alight with battle fury.
Aiovel and Galanor didn't move.
Mygdewyn's axe swung deftly left and right, meeting swords with a loud crash of steel. His sheer strength knocked two of the soldiers guarding their rear back to the ground. Mygdewyn didn't really want to kill them, only incapacitate them. He had no taste for blood, for he could see that the guards were mere babes in arms.
Mygdewyn turned for a moment and winked at Dylan. Nodding, the young prince headed toward the other guard blocking their retreat and pushed him back, parrying with effortless expertise.
Gil watched openmouthed, then suddenly remembered the guards on the other side. He spun around where Aiovel and Galanor stood, still unmoving.
Arms still raised as if to strike, the guards stood paralyzed.
"What's going on?" Gil asked, confused, sheathing his heavy blade as best he could.
"Don't ask," Rodruban advised. "Just run!"
"But where?" Gil wondered. He'd lived the whole of his life in Gyfen, but he really only knew the Pegasus Inn and the marketplace.
"That way, of course," Rodruban said. "To the East," he added, pointing to where Mygdewyn and Dylan continued to fight the guards.
Rodruban broke into a run, heading between the dwarf and the prince, Gil close at his heels.
* * * * *
Gil was out of breath by the time Rodruban stopped. They path they had taken wound like a snake back and forth through the streets for more than a quarter of an hour. Gil was glad Rodruban knew where he was going. Yet he was also distressed.
"Will the others be able to find us?" he asked again.
"Have no fear, boy," Rodruban replied in amusement. "They can take care of themselves." Rodruban began to walk down the road, clutching the staff Aiovel had given him. He felt confident and hale while holding it. He was even able to muster a smile.
"Where are we going?" Gil asked, following him but still glancing backward.
"Outside the city," Rodruban answered calmly. "I'm certain we can meet the others there. Mygdewyn knows his way—he's even a good tracker, but he'll never know where we've gone with all the people passing over our tracks. He'll be heading outside the eastern gate, no doubt."
"Stop!” Gil cried.
“What is it?” Rodruban asked.
“Lilia has vanished again!"
"Are you so interested in my welfare?" Lilia laughed suddenly, appearing next to them. It seemed a pale outline of shadow took form into Lilia as she pulled back her hood.
"She was never lost, Gil, or I should have stopped to search for her," Rodruban said, completely unsurprised by either Lilia’s vanishing or by her miraculous reappearance.
"I would almost imagine you saw me, Druid!" Lilia exclaimed.
"Exactly.” Rodruban returned. “A word of advice for you, though, Gil.”
“Sir?” Gil leaned in an attentive ear.
“Look to her footsteps.” The druid pointed down to Lilia’s tracks.
"Explain to us now, fair thief, what happened back there?" Rodruban demanded, a slight smile twisting one side of his mouth.
Lilia’s gait stiffened.
“You stole the cloak.” Said Rodruban.
“No,” rejoined Lilia. “It was a gift.”
“Then how is it we find ourselves being pursued by half of the Gyfen guard?”
“I suppose there is little I can say in my defense that you would believe. But Master Iolo gave this cloak to me, on the condition that I could escape the city before he called the guards to hunt me down.”
“Why should he do that?” Rodruban asked.
“That would be his own understanding, and not mine. But from what I might guess, the wizard enjoys crafting little games for his own amusement. He saw me admiring the cloak and asked if I was willing to play a game. Take the cloak as a gift, but he warned me he would try to get it back. He would send out guards to hunt me down, and if I wanted to keep it, I must be able to clear the city before they found me.”
"I do not like the sound of his character," said Rodruban.
Lilia laughed. “A fine thing for a druid to say!”
“Tell me, why did you let him bait you that way? Surely the cloak was not worth the cost of putting our lives in peril.” Said Rodruban.
“I did not think so clearly when faced with the temptation,” said Lilia. “I am not so greedy, master druid. I live by what I can steal, and it has not been an easy living.”
“I cannot forgive you.”
“That is fair. I hope you change your mind in time. This cloak may save my life."
"How?" Gil asked.
"I am half-Sea Elf, and it is just past mid-summer." Lilia explained. "My strength is likely to fail where we are going, east away from the sea. I was once told that a shadow hood would protect one of my kind from the dryness of the air, and the heat of the sun. I have been searching for years to find one. What a strange chance it was that, at long last, I went into the guild and saw the cloak lying there. The wizard introduced himself to me and asked my name. And when he told me that the cloak was a shadow hood, I lost all ability to reason. I could only see how in all these long years, it has been the one thing I have yearned to have. So I took him up on his strange little game. Then I hurried back to the market as quickly as possible."
Rodruban listened. “You might have told us sooner.” He said in low tones. “However," Rodruban stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I can't imagine why the wizard sent out so many guards—even for a shadow hood cloak."
“Because of this, I believe.” Said Lilia, pulling a wand from the inner pocket of the hood. It had the look of a charred branch of a young oak tree. “I don’t know if he intended to leave this in his pocket when he made the challenge.”
She passed it over to Rodruban. The druid took it in his hands firmly. His eyes glittered momentarily as he registered what it was, and as the power within the wand sent waves of pleasure coursing through his arm. He hesitated passing it back to her. And he wondered if the wand produced the same euphoric effect upon Lilia. He doubted it, or she would not have let him touch it.
"Well, what is it?" Gil asked.
“A wand… of lightning,” he said. His voice betrayed his own desire for it.
“I have never heard of such a thing,” Lilia said in a light, unfettered voice.
“You had better treasure it then!” Returned the druid with some anger. “That is priceless. No, your friend wizard did not intend to lose that, and I expect he will be after us to get it back. And yet I wonder.” He added, after a moment. His eyes turned thoughtful, more than thoughtful. They were hard and quick, looking inward into an idea that had only just caught hold of his imagination.
“What can you tell me about it?” Asked Lilia a
fter a moment. Rodruban snapped out of his thoughts.
“Only three wizards in all of Daegoras have ever made one, and one of them is my grandfather, Myrddin. When he fashioned the wand of lightning, a measure of his own magical power was lost in the making. Yet he thought it wise a thing to create, for the power in a wizard’s wand may be used to defend him, when other defenses are not at hand.”
“I can’t see why a wizard would need a wand to defend him,” said Gil.
“Because a wizard’s power is not infinite, boy. He can only cast so many spells at once, and if they fail he is as mortal as any man, and all but defenseless against a horde.”
Gil seemed interested. Rodruban continued.
“There is a price to be paid for the use of magic. Can you imagine the power of the elements surging through your body as a beacon of their infinite energy? It is like no elation you will ever know. But the burning fire that courses through you does not leave your body unscarred. The power slowly destroys the body of its vessel, and every time a wizard lends his body to that raw energy, he loses some of his own. For some, it takes only a few hours to recover. For others, it can take longer. My grandfather Myrddin lost a month to the spell that fashioned such a wand. And that after a year in the making of it.”
“Why did he cast it then?” asked Lilia.
“I do not know,” said Rodruban. “For a time, he was creating as many of such wands as he could afford. Many months he spent asleep in a deep sleep from which none could wake him. At last, he ceased, when it was clear he could cast no more.” Rodruban closed his eyes, summoning an image of Myrddin, his hair turning pure white in only a few short years.
“He had some idea that there would be a need for such weapons, but there has been no war now in Daegoras for well nigh on ten years.”
Lilia began to perceive that Myrddin had kept all such treasures to himself. And that perhaps was what vexed Rodruban.
Curse of the Dragon Kings Page 6
