by Blink, Bob
“Balls!” objected Kaler. “Tain’t no such thing.”
“How would you explain it then?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking,” Kaler replied. “Why should it matter if you tell me? Makes no sense for you to make up something as ridiculous as magic. Maybe out in the sticks where you’re from people still believe such nonsense, but I’m not some country boy.”
Rigo stopped and turned toward his companion. Kaler’s shoulder length blond hair was dirty and uncared for, yet Rigo could see why the women would be attracted to him. A couple of years older than himself, Kaler was muscular with arms almost as thick as his own thighs. His hands were powerful and carried the heavy sword effortlessly. With piercing blue eyes, he looked at Rigo waiting for an explanation. Well, Rigo thought. He’d started this. He should have sidestepped the issue as usual. He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t.
Rigo pointed to the sword Slayer carried. “How good would you say the blade on that weapon is?”
“You saw what happened to the other one. I wouldn’t expect this one to be much better. Why?”
Rigo pointed to a five inch thick knarled and weather-hardened section of a nearby hardwood tree. “See if you can cut through that,” he said pointing.
“The blade would more than likely snap,” objected Kaler. “This sword isn’t much, but it’s all we have at the moment.”
“Trust me,” Rigo insisted. There was something in his voice that caught Kaler’s attention. “I told you the blade wouldn’t break.”
Kaler looked at Rigo for a long couple of moments, then shrugged. “This is stupid,” he said, but walked over toward the limb that Rigo had pointed out.
“A single swing,” Rigo encouraged. “Assume it will cut through and be prepared for it.”
Kaler didn’t say anything, but squared his shoulders and then brought the blade swiftly around, catching the branch halfway through his swing. The blade passed through almost effortlessly, cutting the hard wood smoothly. Kaler stepped back and looked at the fallen branch in surprise. Then he examined the grayish metal of the blade.
“I don’t believe it. Not even a mark.”
“Now that you have some reason to trust my judgement, come here,” Rigo said. He pointed at a large rock. “Take a swing at that.”
“You are determined to break this sword, aren’t you?”
“It won’t break” Rigo promised again.
Kaler hesitated, but then brought the sword smartly over head in a two handed swing, bringing the edge down onto the rock that Rigo had pointed out. The blade rang at the impact, and imbedded itself almost an inch into the hard granite. Kaler looked at the blade, still intact, and the slice into the stone.
“Pull it out and have a look,” Rigo suggested.
Kaler rocked the blade and after a moment it slipped free. He examined the blade.
“The edge isn’t even dulled,” he said surprised. “How the hell is it possible?”
“Magic,” Rigo said smugly. “It won’t last though.”
“What won’t last?” Kaler asked. He’d been examining the blade with new respect.
“The magic embedded in the blade. It’ll leak away after a few days. Somehow I feel that it should be possible to make the change permanent, but I don’t know how. It’s one of many things I feel are possible. There has to be someone in the world who can show me the secrets.” Then Rigo pointed uphill. They still had a way to go.
Kaler looked at the branch before starting. “You don’t think we left them something to track us?”
Rigo looked at the downed branch. It had fallen with the cut end out of sight and didn’t look particularly different than a dozen other branches lying on the ground on the side of the hill. The odds they could be tracked were slim. The guard would simply use a large force and hope to stumble onto them. Rigo had yet to see any of the King’s forces display the careful tracking techniques that he and his friends were familiar with back home.
“I doubt they would recognize it for what it is,” he said, and started moving once again.
Kaler followed along behind him, silent and thinking.
Two hills later the trees were starting to thin as they gained altitude. The ground had been rocky all the way up the side of this particular hill, ensuring no footprints were being left to give them away. Kaler pointed out several caves and directed them to one of the smaller ones.
“It’ll be dark inside. We need to make some kind of torch,” Kaler said.
“Not necessary,” Rigo responded, and stepped into the opening.
Kaler followed him inside.
“I told you,” Kaler said once they were both standing in the dim light of the small room of jagged stone. “We can still see here once our eyes adjust, but it gets darker as we go deeper and the small entrance to the second chamber will be impossible to find without light.”
“A torch will leave behind a telltale smell,” Rigo said. Then he extended his staff and a ball of blue white light some fifteen inches in diameter formed at the upper tip, floating just above the staff.
“Great Gods!” exclaimed Kaler in shock.
Rigo smiled at Kaler and his outburst. “As I said, magic! Lead the way.”
They climbed over rocks at the back of the small room, slipped through narrow gaps and finally making a sharp turn back the way they had come, Kaler pointed to an all but invisible opening.
“In there,” he said.
Rigo stuck the end of the staff into the opening followed by his head. All he could see were more rocks, but the ceiling opened up suggesting a large area.
“There is a sandy flat area about twenty paces in,” Kaler explained.
Rigo wormed his way through the opening and then waited with the light for Kaler to follow. Once they were both inside, Kaler climbed up and over several more boulders bringing them to the area he had described.
Rigo examined their hideaway carefully. The sandy enclosure was larger than he expected, and even if someone peered inside the small opening they would be hidden. They would have to be careful about the light, but the way the cave echoed, there would be plenty of warning if someone were checking the area.
“This will do nicely,” Rigo said, and pressed the lower end of the staff deep into the sand so it supported itself. Then he sat down with his back against the rocks.
Kaler slid down across from him, his eyes wide in awe. “You really can perform magic, can’t you? Everyone has always said it is only for children’s stories. How do you do it? Where did you learn? Are there others you know of who can do the same?”
Rigo held up his hand to stay the string of questions. “I’ve never known of anyone else. I don’t know how it works. I just can do certain things. I simply wish it.”
“How about you wish us some gold. It would be handy for the journey ahead of us.”
“That isn’t the kind of thing I can do.”
“What can you do?”
“A number of things. Some that I don’t even realize until the need arises. It’s like the ability is there, but untapped. Slowly, over the years, I have added capability to my skill. What do we have in that sack?” Rigo asked, changing the subject. “I, for one, am hungry.”
They had grabbed a food sack and a wineskin from the guard area at the entrance to the dungeon before making their escape. There would be no opportunity to hunt or forage until they were certain their pursuers had given up. The food in the dungeon had been marginal and irregular, and what they had taken would be all they had for some time.
“Dried venison strips and several wrinkled apples,” Kaler said as he dug through the sack.
“It’ll do,” Rigo said holding out a hand.
“If you can do magic, how is it you ended up in the Duke’s dungeon?” Kaler asked as they each chewed on the tough meat.
Perhaps it was time to exchange stories, Rigo thought looking around the cave. This place brought back memories of his first days on the road after leaving the village. He wa
s tired of keeping everything secret. As he traveled he’d kept an eye out for signs there were other like him, but had never found the slightest clue. All his life, at least the part he could recall, his ability had been a secret, one that sometimes weighed heavily and made him wonder who or what he was. Now, he sensed that he might have found someone who he could unburden himself to.
Chapter 3
Six Months Earlier
Rigo had headed west when he escaped his home village of Daro without really thinking the matter through. That was because he knew where to hide in that direction better than any other. Fall had just begun, and he would be through the mountains long before bad weather set in. The Stony Mountains weren’t anything impressive compared to the Great Whites to the north, but they were still substantial mountains and he had spent many a week hunting and exploring the hills. Far more so than anyone else from his village. Those who lived in Daro were a mix of hunters and farmers, but the rocky peaks a half day’s walk from the small village held little of practical use and few of the residents were inclined to climb for the sheer pleasure of it. Perhaps the futility of attempting to pass through the Great White Ranges had soured many on mountains in general. Whatever the ultimate cause, it worked well for Rigo. In the past he had come here for privacy. It was a place where he could practice his craft without any chance of being observed. Now the time spent exploring afforded him many places to hide where those seeking him would have no chance of finding him.
Surrounded this evening by banks of stone that would block any searchers from seeing his fire, Rigo reached out with his will and ignited the pile of sticks he had gathered. Fire was the easiest for some reason. It has been the first instance of magic he had ever performed, startling himself when he set the straw in one of the stalls afire many years before. Fortunately it was just as easily snuffed out, so the damage had been minimal and he had been able to clean up the burnt straw before any of his family had seen what he had done. That night he had lain awake trying to understand what had changed inside him. He could sense that fire and other actions were within his reach, callable by a simple act of will.
He wouldn’t need a fire later tonight. The weather was warm. But he didn’t like to eat his game raw, and the pair of hares that had fallen to rocks from his sling were already skinned and prepared. A few spicy leaves and naturally occurring salt would add a bit of flavor. With the fire burning brightly, Rigo set the two sticks that spitted the rabbits across the fire and sat back.
He was confused by his feelings. He felt a gaping hole in his chest knowing that going back to Daro was not an option for him. He had been away before, several times for nearly two weeks, but the option of returning was always there. This time, especially after apparently fleeing from a crime, he couldn’t return. Hopefully his father was correct and the matter would sort itself out sooner or later. Already he missed the older man who had made him part of the family. He even missed his two brothers, despite the frequent animosity that flared between them. His thoughts turned briefly to Sarlee. He’d entertained hopes that something might develop between the two of them. A year younger than himself, with long dark hair and a sensuous smile, Sarlee had been around more and more the past year. It was as if she found ways for their paths to cross. He had done the same, of course, but had yet to actually make a discernable move that would reveal his wishes that the two of them be paired. He was fearful that she wouldn’t agree, and that would have been a crushing blow to his pride. Long had he been working up the courage to make a move and reveal his interest. At night he’d lie awake and imagine how he might proceed. Now it didn’t matter. At their age six months was too long. Another would make his move before he could return. This summer was the time such relationships were affirmed and she was of the proper age. He knew that others had been interested, which had vexed him with his inability to make his own move.
He also thought briefly about his friend Tory. Rigo hadn’t been able to say goodbye or explain why he was leaving. It would appear to his friend that he might be guilty, but it couldn’t be helped. Had they talked, Rigo would have had to reveal his intent, and Tory might have volunteered to accompany him. He was that kind of person. It wouldn’t have been fair to his friend. Hopefully, one day Rigo would have the opportunity to explain.
The rabbit demanded attention so he reached over and turned the spit again, noticing the aroma of the cooking flesh. His mouth watered in anticipation. With fall just upon them, he would have no trouble traveling and supplying himself from the abundant game that had matured over the summer. He had his belt knife, a quality blade given to him by his father on his eighteenth annual day, a date that really reflected the day he had joined the family. He had known his age when he had been adopted, but had no idea of his history or the actual day he had been born. He also carried the sling which he had practiced with to the point he was remarkably accurate. Finally there was the staff. The deceiving pole of old wood, polished smooth by years of carry was of far more use than anyone would expect. It not only enhanced his own powers, but seemed to have some of its own. It also appeared to be bonded to him in some way that he couldn’t begin to explain. Once some years before he had mistakenly left the staff behind when he’d gone into the woods, only to find it waiting for him alongside the barn when he returned home.
As he ate, Rigo considered what he knew of the world. He really should head east. The head waters of the Great Central River that flowed from the base of the Purple Mountains along the eastern border of Branid and then bisected Kellmore and Lopal would have carried him all the way to the southern most reaches of the continent. His father had told him the river grew in size as multiple smaller rivers merged along its path until it was nearly a mile wide and very deep. They had gone to the much smaller beginnings last spring to take a large load of pots, specially ordered, that were to be shipped down the river to a city in the south. Rigo had been intrigued by the boats and the men who manned them, making the month long journey south, and the even longer return trip where they had to pole the boat against the current. Their life had seemed exciting to him, and he had sworn that he would make the journey himself one day.
He didn’t have sufficient coin to book passage, but thought it would be possible to earn his way. He was strong and willing to work. If that wasn’t possible, he could walk and follow the course of the river. That might even be better. Going by boat, he would float past the cities catching only the briefest glimpses of them. He wanted to see what they were like and how the people dressed and acted. His father had told him how different people were in other places.
If he followed the river far enough, the Purple Mountains would change into foothills, and later disappear altogether. Once the river passed beyond the boundaries of Branid, he would have a free choice of exploring the foreign lands of Kellmore to the west or Lopal to the east. From what his father had told him, Kellmore was a more rural version of Branid, known for their farm products and especially their extensive herds of meat animals. Branid relied on imports of beef and pork to supply their needs. Kellmore was also known for their fruits. The southern part of the country was far warmer than any of the other lands and blessed with fertile flatlands where thousands of acres of exotic fruits that would grow nowhere else were produced.
Lopal, on the other hand, was a very different sort of place. The wild lands as his father called them. The whole of the country was mountainous, which changed the way people lived. The people were more scattered, and there were fewer large cities. While there was a chosen king, the people were fiercely independent, and often as not would follow their own leaders if they didn’t like the direction the king had selected. Independent fiefdoms were scattered throughout the land, loyal more to local leaders than the chosen king. The politics had seemed complicated when his father had tried to explain the intricacies. The people of Lopal were ferocious fighters when challenged, something that was becoming a concern the past few years. Even in remote Daro rumors were increasingly common that Lopal wa
s pressing the boundaries with southern Kellmore. The rich flatlands west of the Great Central River offered a much needed solution to the needs of Lopal. They had not been hit as hard by the sickness some years past, and their population continued to swell while both Kellmore and Branid were far from recovered. Within the existing boundaries of Lopal with its rough terrain there was simply not enough land that could be used to grow food. The kingdom was forced to import from both Kellmore and Branid, the exchange paid for with special ores dug from the mines in the north, and timbers much sought by Branid for their ships. Branid was known for the durability and speed of the craft it produced. Anyone who wanted to engage in sea trade was outmatched unless they purchased their sea going vessels from the shipyards along the coast near central Branid.
“The sea,” muttered Rigo softly to himself as he finished the last of the first rabbit. The second he would wrap in leaves and have a small amount for breakfast and the rest along the day as he journeyed. He knew what he wanted. The stories of huge ships, far larger than anything that would travel the inland rivers, and of water that stretched to the horizon and beyond had captured his imagination. He had to see it for himself. He envisioned finding passage aboard one of the ships and sailing to the far off land from which his adopted mother had come. He would go there first. The coast was only several weeks walk given the fine spring weather.
Sadly, his funds would not be sufficient for any grand journey to far away lands. He knew that without having any real reference for what such a journey might cost. He had enough to cover certain consumables and if he were frugal to stay at one of the lower quality inns once a fortnight. Otherwise, he would be restricted to sleeping out under the stars. He hadn’t considered what that might mean come winter. That was simply too far into the future to be concerned about.
