by William Cali
Gordenthorpe continued, speaking almost for his own benefit. “The details of that story… Ah, it was a different age then. Over a hundred years ago, I’m afraid. I was a bit spryer in those days.”
“A hundred years?” Pent looked at Hanar with a shocked expression, but Hanar barely registered a response. These seemed to be details he was already familiar with.
Gordenthorpe chuckled and continued: “Someone of my talents, well, I have a few tricks that evade the average man.” He smiled, “I am one of the last surviving sorcerers in the world, the last narrator of a dead age. But you asked if this is real. And I say, of course it is! Magic does exist.” He picked up an empty bottle, pressed his fingers against the glass, and then waved his hand over the top three times. The bottle filled up with an unknown substance and bubbled over. Drops of blue liquid fell onto the floor, sizzled, and then vanished. “Magic truly comes from within. Most men would be surprised to find that they have the capacity to deal in magic, much like I do.” He brought the bottle to his mouth and drank the contents in one gulp. “Not that it’s easy! To become as I am, it would take years of study and practice. A bit of traveling as well.” He winked at Pent. “Trust me on that measure, I’ve lived the life to prove it.”
“I’m not really sure what to say to that.” Hanar was an oddity, sure, but he was a person who dealt in known things. A hunter, a tracker, and an outdoorsman; Pent had met enough people like that to understand where Hanar was coming from. But this Gordenthorpe, he was like something out of a movie. “I come from a place that doesn’t have any kind of magic. It’s just a fantasy in stories and books. I’ve heard of all kinds of them, with elves and dwarves and magic rings.”
Gordenthorpe scratched his head. “Elves, I know nothing of. I have heard of dwarves, but they no longer exist. Another lost wonder from a time when heroes traversed the land. They were very small and mischievous and, I believe, took to collecting what was lost. I believe I have a book about them somewhere around here…”
“I wasn’t really asking about them, just kind of making an observation.” Pent settled on a direct approach, trying to prevent Gordenthorpe from going on a tangent. “You’re clearly a powerful, well-traveled man. I don’t know anything about this Wizard of Oz stuff, but please help me get home.” He paused, catching his breath. “I’m from Virginia. Uh, or America. Or Earth? Does any of this ring a bell for you?”
The wizard frowned. “I have read much and traveled far, but none of those places are familiar. How did you come into this world?”
“I don’t really understand myself. I opened up a book in my world and the next thing I knew I was falling from the sky, headfirst into a tree. Hanar found me and brought me here.” He sighed. “Hoping to find some answers.”
“Traveling through a book. That is an interesting prospect. Why, I remember one time, in days long past, I came across a lich, who had in his possession the Scepter of Eccue!” He mimed a circle in the air with his hands. “By simply waving a hole in the fabric of reality, the Scepter allowed him to travel from one location to another, a doorway if you will! Most convenient! Alas, I lost the Scepter in the Battle of As—”
“Gordenthorpe, sir, I believe Pent is looking more for the book-based travel method,” Hanar said. He frowned and shook his head when Pent glanced at him.
Gordenthorpe’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “Yes, yes. A book that could do a thing like this… It’s a new marvel to me. I’m reminded of tales once shared with me about the Scribes, but their ancient race has long vanished from the world.” He shook his head. “I know not how you have arrived to this land. All I can promise is that I will search for an answer to how you may return to your home.”
Pent stared at the small man. He struggled to find the words he needed to deal with this situation. “Are you serious? That’s all you can do for me? You have no clue how to get me home?” Pent glanced at Hanar, who had a sympathetic look on his face.
The wizard stared at Pent. “There are many realms of magic that I am unfamiliar with. It’s a broad art; many new mysteries can spring up without notice. Bizarre circumstances can create magical tokens at times.”
“So, what the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Gordenthorpe blinked. “What matter of that is mine? Perhaps you should begin the search yourself.”
Before Pent could stop himself, he had walked over to Gordenthorpe, grasped him by the collar of his robes, and lifted him into the air. “Listen here, man. I picked up a dusty old book in my world and took a peek. Next thing I knew, I fell from the sky and almost got skewered on the way down. You live in an invisible shack in the woods. You can make things float. You can summon weird liquids. Your house is lit up like a disco and I don’t see any electrical outlets in here.”
The diminutive sorcerer kicked his legs helplessly, squeaking in protest, but Pent didn’t care. “You have to know how to get me home! You just have to! If I’m supposed to believe all this crap is real, and not just some damn parlor trick… Well… What the hell am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do!”
Pent felt a cold air pound against his chest, and he was pushed away from Gordenthorpe and into the wall. The wizard was pointing two fingers at him. “Making things float is not all I can do!” His hands were shaking and sweat poured down his face.
Pent stared in disbelief. He did something, pushed me away with some kind of cold wind? Hanar had stood up, unsure if he should intervene. Pent raised a hand, beckoning him to stay back. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put hands on you. I’m just confused. Scared maybe. I don’t know how this happened, and you were supposed to be my ticket out of here.”
Gordenthorpe breathed heavily. Despite his control over magical elements beyond Pent’s understanding, he seemed shaken. “I understand, young man. Maybe not how you arrived here, but your fear is well merited. I won’t condone violence in my home, however.”
“I’m real sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
“I accept your apology,” the old man said. He had regained his composure. “I will reaffirm to you, I do not know how you arrived here, but I will search for an answer to your dilemma.”
“Thank you for that,” Pent said, nodding. “I really appreciate it, but I do have things to take care of in my home. Do you know anyone else I can ask? Anywhere else I can go to get help?”
“The world is large, and my home is small. I cannot say where, but surely answers exist somewhere out there.” Gordenthorpe tugged on his beard. “Even as magic dies in this dreary age, the world is still full of wonders.”
Pent paused, wondering at the wizard’s statement. Dreary age? What does that mean? He glanced around the hut. “You’ve got a lot of stuff around here. What did you call them, tokens?”
“Indeed. That’s a habit of my old master. One he picked up from Karpas.” He laughed to himself, looking far into the past at some distant memory. “You can’t say much of old sorcerers, aside from us being creatures of habit! I remember my tutor’s old habit of whispering into the ears of small animals. Quite peculiar, I never picked that habit up. I always considered it a bit unnerving, but those were in the days when Yoz—”
Pent cleared his throat. “I’m still getting used to this new world, but I bet you’ve been all over to collect all of this. Maybe there’s something else here that might help me make my way home?”
“It was not my intention, originally, to start a collection. You might be surprised, many of these artifacts were created by chance, by accident if you will. A person in desperate circumstances, with the right innate abilities, can do amazing things without even knowing they could. But most of these tokens just stumbled into my possession during my adventuring days. Those long-forgotten days...” Gordenthorpe sighed, looking wistfully at his collection of items. “It has only taken a little over a hundred years, but that has been enough. Time has washed away the memory of those days, like a wave lapping against rocks on a shore. Even the name of the Crusaders has fall
en into distant memory. Looking back at those days, we tried to do what was right. But it was a different age then. Who can really judge what the right thing is, you can never be sure. I suppose that’s why those adventures ended.”
Pent frowned. Before, the wizard was looking back at his past with fondness, but the longer they talked, the more sullen he became.
“Looks like you got some nice stuff to show for it, I guess.”
Gordenthorpe continued as if he had not heard Pent at all. “Those were pleasant times, but also very dangerous times. We did what we could to try and bring hope to the people of this world.” He pointed towards Hanar. “Hanar here lives in Somerville, and the people there live in relative peace. But a century ago, a place like Somerville could only exist as a guarded secret. People living out in the open were damned, under constant threat from the scores of dangers in the world. Now they can survive, as long as they accept the conditions of their lives willingly.” His eyes stopped on a sword that shined as if it was made of gold, and his fingers stroked the hilt of the blade.
“I imagine if Hanar had not found me, I would have been in trouble, especially when the sun went down,” Pent said.
“You don’t know the extent of the danger that I’m referring to. Back then there were scores of threats—foul beasts, monsters as far as the eye could see. Life was marred by chaos, the stench of death lingering wherever you looked. I remember, once, when we had encountered a Hemite Lord, far from its natural habitat. The lords are far, far more intelligent than the regular beasts, able to feast on the human soul at a distance. It took so many of us to—”
“You make it sound like it was a terrible time to live.” Pent spoke softer than he would have usually. He didn’t want to step on the wizard’s toes, but the old man was working himself into a panic, and Pent was afraid he wasn’t going to snap out of it. He looked to Hanar for affirmation, and Hanar nodded slightly.
Gordenthorpe paused, and then continued with a smile, “Not for the monsters, I suppose. And not for those craving adventure. Life is all a matter of perspective in this way. But after years and years, an order of sorts was established. An order stable enough for people like Hanar to live in harmony with their condition.”
“What does that mean? ‘Their condition?’ You’ve said that twice now,” Pent said. “It almost seems that you liked things better the old way.”
“No, no, you have misunderstood. Life back then was dangerous for any who could not defend themselves. An ordered world is much safer for most than one of chaos. But order can have its disadvantages too.”
He’s giving me the runaround. Pent wasn’t sure how to press the questioning any further. Gordenthorpe had gone back to scouring his hoarder’s wall to find God-knows-what.
Pent tried changing gears: “So why do you live out here? I’m not sure if I would want to live in a hut out in the woods. It must get lonely.”
“I am a relic of a past age, and I am content to live here in peace, to let people choose their own fate. Were I to interfere in the matters of people, I would be unhelpful. I could only harm them.”
“Seemed to get a different story from your man over here.” Pent pointed a thumb at Hanar, who looked like he was about to doze off.
The sudden attention snapped him out of his trance. He rubbed at his eyes and said, “It is very much true, you saved my life. But if the villagers were aware of your abilities, I am certain they would harass you endlessly.”
“You are a visitor from a strange land,” Gordenthorpe said, nodding, “and I do not expect you to completely understand the ways of the people here. But this meeting has been a pleasant distraction, and perhaps there are answers out there for you yet!” He waddled towards an opening near the back of the hut. “I grow tired, and when you live to be over a hundred years old even a conversation such as this is enough to send you to bed!” Pent was perplexed. The sorcerer had been more than willing to chew his ear off earlier, talking about every little thing that sparkled and shines on his wall. Now he was getting shooed off the property. Did I touch some kind of nerve, asking him about being so secluded?
Hanar spoke up, “Wait for one moment, wise sage!” He reached toward Pent. “Our new friend here has a device, a magical device that shoots fire and fills the air with a crashing sound! Pent swears that he is not familiar with the mystical arts, but surely you can discern a mystical element to his weapon. I can find no other explanation.”
“There is another explanation. I’m telling you the truth, man,” Pent said, holding back a laugh. It didn’t seem like a good idea to hand a loaded gun to a complete stranger, especially not someone who had never handled a gun before, but there was little else he could do to sate Hanar’s curiosity. He unholstered the gun, made sure the safety was in place, and held it in front of the inquisitive sorcerer. “Maybe you can calm him down on this. I’m guessing you don’t have these around here, but it’s called a gun, a pistol if you want to be specific.” He flipped it around and showed Gordenthorpe the trigger. “If you squeeze this part here, a piece of metal comes out here.”
Gordenthorpe held his hand out, and Pent cautiously placed the gun into it. This guy is definitely not Every Day Carry ready.
“Something to know when dealing with one of these,” Pent instructed the wizard nervously, “you don’t want to flick that switch, and you also don’t want to point it at anything you do not want to hurt. It’s a very dangerous thing to mess with.”
Gordenthorpe studied the pistol. He palmed it, moved his hands over it, and his eyes widened and narrowed repeatedly as he rubbed his fingers over every groove. Hanar and Pent both stared at him as he made his inspection, and when he was done, he abruptly handed the gun back to Pent.
“There are no mystical elements on this device at all. It is quite peculiar, another marvel I have never seen before. But it is not a magical device.”
“See? Nothing magic about me,” Pent said as he holstered the gun.
“I suppose so.” Hanar sighed, sullen and disappointed.
“It’s like a bow and arrow, man. You have bows here, right? Well, this is the upgraded model.”
Hanar nodded, more pleased with this answer.
Gordenthorpe continued his walk to the back of the room.
“I hope you find the answers you seek, and I shall investigate what I can. Hanar, I look forward to our next meeting.” He walked out of view, into a room that Pent could not make out from where he was standing. It’s like this hut was before I entered, some kind of bizarre veil. A haze was cast over the room Gordenthorpe had entered, obstructing and confusing Pent’s senses. Everything is just…off. He couldn’t get the smell of tea out of his nostrils, but he never saw a pot with boiling water. He didn’t see running water at all, actually. The entire hut was pleasant, but it disturbed Pent on a deep level that he couldn’t put a finger on. This place is just so different.
As he turned and followed Hanar out of the hut, Pent wondered if he would meet the odd man again.
Chapter Eight
Hanar led the two of them through the woods, moving at a determined pace, while deftly sidestepping and dodging branches that were nearly invisible to Pent. Already, the time spent in Gordenthorpe’s hut seemed to be out of a fairy tale or a dream.
Pent stopped and glanced back at the clearing they had left behind. “Kind of an arrogant guy, huh?”
Hanar halted in his tracks. “Arrogant?” Pent regretted his words immediately. He expected anger on Hanar’s face but was surprised by the bearded man’s sadness. “What makes you say that?”
Pent raised his hands in a defusing gesture. “I don’t mean any offense by that, man. He’s a decent enough guy. I guess. Maybe a little smug is all I was saying. I guess he’s got reason to be if he really is a hundred years old and some world traveling wizard.” And I guess I’m kind of in the wrong too, what with roughing him up like that.
“A bit smug, yes. I felt a sense of that when I first met him as well. But he’s also a great ma
n, noble perhaps. I’m not sure if noble is appropriate, I don’t know a lot of noble men. But he saved my life. He could have left me to die.” Hanar grunted and began walking again, moving with careful ease through the undergrowth.
“That’s noble enough for anyone to agree with. Is there a story attached to this life saving?”
“I had taken a grievous wound from a treehopper.” Hanar must have sensed Pent’s confusion, because he clarified, “Ah, no treehoppers where you’re from, then? They are large, furry creatures that primarily live in trees.”
“And let me guess, they hop around a lot.”
“Yes, exactly. Well named creatures, but they can be quite dangerous. Sharp claws, almost like a bear, and they move like lightning on the treetops, but they’re very slow on the ground.”
“Kind of like a reverse sloth.” Pent paused. “I guess those are supposed to be slow all over the place though.” He wondered if they had sloths in this world. They had bears, apparently.
Hanar shrugged and continued: “I hadn’t been paying attention to the trees, and it was on me in a second.” He rubbed his palm on his right hip. “It tore into me, but something scared it off before it could finish what it started. I passed out in the dirt, and when I awoke, I was in Gordenthorpe’s home.” He abruptly pointed to a large bush behind him to the right. “Be wary of the thorns on that, they’re a great pain to remove. Gordenthorpe treated my wounds. The doctor of Somerville is a man named Riven, and he is talented, but even he admitted that the wounds I suffered would be beyond his abilities. For Gordenthorpe, it was a small task. I owe him a life debt for his efforts.”
“It’s lucky he found you, but it doesn’t seem like he’s a big fan of visitors.”
“You’re right, and you’re suspicious of the man as well.” He waved down Pent’s concerned look. “I’m no fool, my friend, and I’m not upset, either. Gordenthorpe can do miraculous things. It is a great sadness that he doesn’t share his gifts with the rest of the world.”
