Aeromancer

by Don Callander

  Douglas wrote a detailed and long-overdue note to Flarman, detailing his and Myrn’s adventures to date. Sealing it with a bit of fire-orange wax, he tossed the letter into the fire he’d set ablaze on the cave floor.

  The letter disappeared in a quick flash and a slight pop. He set about obtaining his own dinner, heaping platter of savory sausages, oven-baked brown beans, and chocolate layer cake for dessert.

  When Lesser returned with a great double-armful of fresh valley grass, the Dragon ate the last of the cake in two gulps. Shortly they both—Lesser blocking the cave entrance, as secure a safeguard as any locked door—settled down to sleep.

  ****

  Indra dropped quietly into the center of Harroun’s sheikdom, pleased at its obvious comfort and country charm. She folded her wings and trotted up to the great double doors of the palace, then kicked her heels loudly several times on the thick panels.

  A maidservant opened a postern to one side and stuck her head out inquiringly.

  “A strange horse!” she called to someone behind her. “Why come to the house, pretty little thing? I should think a horse would prefer the stables. Around to the right, they are. You must belong to one of the our good Sheik’s guests.”

  “Rather say I came to see one of them,” replied Indra. “May I be taken to Mistress Myrn Brightglade? I’m her very close friend.”

  Something in the horse’s manner caused the maid to bob a curtsy and invite her to enter at once.

  “I’ll take you to the Lady Wizard,” the girl murmured, nodding to a Guard, armed with a long, curved scimitar, who stood beside her in the hall. “It’s all right, Hakkim. Lady Myrn would have such an unusual friend, from what I’ve heard.”

  The guard nodded and the maid led the flying horse, who trod quietly and daintily as anyone could wish across the polished marble flooring, up a broad flight of stairs and down a wide corridor to the rooms that had been assigned to Myrn, her monkey, and her bird.

  Supper was long over. Myrn was seated at a mirror brushing her thick, black hair, having just climbed from a delightfully hot, soapy bath.

  “A visitor?” she called when her own maid answered the door. “Oh Nameless! I thought you were still safe in Balistan. Come in, my dearest! How came you here?”

  The enchanted filly trotted in, looking around in curiosity and nodding to the black monkey and the yellow-and-black sparrow in a friendly fashion.

  “I followed you and found your husband Douglas,” she explained, nuzzling the Aquamancer lovingly. “He has managed—”

  “To restore your speech! How wonderful! Where is Douglas? Will he come tonight?”

  “I’m afraid not, Mistress”

  “No, it’s Myrn! We’re old friends, and should call each other by our first names. Which reminds me—what is your name? I can’t keep calling you Nameless, now.”

  “I am Princess Indra of Tereniget,” replied the horse, proudly. “But to you, I’ll always answer to ‘Nameless.’ ”

  “No, no! Indra is beautiful! Tell me first what happened to you after I was stolen from the Sultan’s palace. What did Douglas say and what does he plan to do?”

  “He’s but a short way off, watching and waiting on a cold mountainside,” replied the filly. “He’d like to bespeak you, when you have a chance, and when he won’t give you away to those who stole the First Citizen.”

  “Poor man! He could have come with you and slept in a bed with three soft mattresses, twelve silken pillows, a wonderful swan’s-down coverlet... and me,” cried Myrn.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dangerous Ways

  Myrn awoke and dressed in the darkness just before dawn. She left her companions fast asleep and walked softly down the broad stair to let herself out of the sally-port just as the sky began to brighten with morning.

  As she turned to close the door, Marbleheart came galumphing along behind her, wriggling his long whiskers and pointing his sharp nose this way and that in curiosity.

  “May I?” he asked Myrn. “If you’d rather be alone ...”

  “Nonsense!” said the Journeyman Aquamancer, laughing and patting the beast lovingly on the head. “I need to find a quiet place to bespeak Douglas for a moment.”

  “Up near the rim of this strange valley, perhaps. Everyone’s asleep, except the guards, I see. Bit nippy, out here on High Desert in the morning! I’m glad I’m dressed as a Sea Otter, rather than as a flimsy monkey.”

  They crossed the level palace lawn, passed between rows of neat, flat-roofed dwellings of dressed stone and mortar with brightly striped awnings to keep off the sun’s heat later in the day.

  The whole floor of the roughly circular valley was delightfully landscaped with gardens of flowers; wide, sheep-cropped, green pastures; plots of vegetables; and rows of fruit trees, mostly oranges and lemons. Every few yards the two skirted small pools of clear water steaming slightly in the chill morning air.

  “Springs, I gather,” said Myrn, stopping to look with professional interest into the depths of one large pool of remarkable turquoise color.

  “Smells rather familiar,” Marbleheart remarked, sniffing and then sneezing. “Ah-choo! I’ve smelled this sort of sulfurous odor before ... in the valley at the northern end of Eternal Glacier.”

  “Similar, at least,” agreed Myrn. “And something about the rocks and the formations reminds me of Mount Blue Eye.”

  “A volcano, then?” Marbleheart asked, looking worried.

  He knew from hard personal experience what a volcano can do, if it set its mind to it.

  “I don’t feel any tendency to erupt here ... not like the feel of Blue Eye at all,” Myrn reassured him. “The subterranean fires merely provide varying degrees of hot water for bathing, for laundry, and for castle-heating, I imagine.”

  Comparing their memories and experiences of volcanoes, the pair climbed a stairway cut into the inner side of Indigo Deep and in a short while reached a parapet that hung on the very rim, providing fabulous views all about, especially of sunrise over the sharply serrated peaks of the Darkest.

  Marbleheart trotted along the parapet, sampling the air as well as the views in all directions, but Myrn stood and watched the sun free itself from the mountains, reaching out with her Aquamantic senses.

  The Sea Otter settled down in an early spot of sunlight, eyes half-closed but senses alert. For the furred animal this was the best time of day in the desert. The air was yet cool and the new sun was just pleasantly warm.

  “Awaken, sleepyhead!” he heard the girl call softly.

  But when he raised his head to reply with a quip, he realized she’d spoken to another, not to him.

  “Awaken, sweetheart,” repeated Myrn with a low, love-filled chuckle. “I need to talk to you a moment, husband dear. Then you can go back to your comfortable grass bed and sleep the heat of day away!”

  “I’m sorry ...,” came Douglas’s sleepy voice from the thin air over the desert. “I regret not coming to you last night with the Princess Indra.”

  “I’m delighted you were able to solve her enchantment and allow her to talk again. She would’ve kept us awake talking for hours, I fear, if I hadn’t insisted we all needed a good night’s sleep.”

  “I can imagine,” said Douglas. “She’s been under that part of her enchantment for over a century!”

  “A hundred years! Then ... she is one of Frigeon’s spellbound? You saw through it and assisted her to recover?”

  “There yet remains a much larger spell on the poor filly and her folks, to tackle when we have time,” Douglas’s voice said. “A moment, darling, please. I’ll join you in more than just voice.”

  The air beside the stone parapet shimmered in the early sun, seemed to quake for a breathless moment, and suddenly the form of the young Pyromancer appeared standing beside his wife.

  “Hello, Marbleheart!” Douglas said.

  For several moments he devoted himself solely to Myrn while the Sea Otter watched, waiting for his own hug and rumple.


  “Now!” gasped Myrn, drawing back a bit in Douglas’s arms. “We really should talk about plans, shouldn’t we, Douglas-my-dear?”

  “I’ve given them some hours of thought—while I tried to sleep on fragrant grasses on the hard floor of a cave,” her husband sniffed. Then, more gravely, “We’ve two different but closely related problems, as I see it.”

  “The matter of rescuing Serenit... and the matter of the flying horses?”

  “Yes, we know now Frigeon and King Priad, Indra’s father, had a disagreement some years ago. The Ice King sought to extend his hold to the eastern shores of Sea. Somehow Priad sought to block the Ice King in that, and Frigeon cast a spell that turned Priad, his wife and daughter, and a number of Priad’s paladins and their ladies into flying horses. This was, I suspect, in the wastelands to the southeast.”

  “I see ...,” Myrn murmured. “And when Frigeon fell, Indra set off to find someone to restore her people?”

  “That’s my guess. You can ask her about it when you return to Harroun’s castle. She may be hazy about details, but you can guide her to full recall, if you have the time.”

  “What bothers me,” put in Marbleheart, “is this: Myrn’s task is to free our old chum Serenit from his captors, about whom we know virtually nothing. Our job, Douglas, is relatively easy: find and disenchant the people of this flying horse king. Should be fairly simple, what with Indra to assist. But Myrn’s task isn’t nearly as simple! To rescue old Serenit, she must face his unknown captors ... and they sound pretty formidable, to me!”

  “Yes, just so,” said Douglas softly.

  “Do you have any idea who Serenit’s captors might be?” Myrn asked.

  “I’m coming to see that he or they are—were?—minions of the Darkness, our foe at Last Battle,” the Pyromancer explained.

  Myrn hugged herself, shivering even though the sun by now had warmed the air about them quite pleasantly.

  “Yes,” her husband said with a nod. “The Darkness! But what part, and how powerful is it, I wonder?”

  “Oh, I’ll let you know, in time,” said Myrn. “I imagine I’ll find out when I seek for Frigeon ... I mean Serenit.”

  Douglas shook his head.

  “It’s a much more difficult task you’d be facing. I wonder if we should switch our assignments, Myrn.”

  “No way that I know,” answered his Journeyman-wife. “Besides, I’ll have Cribblon to help. He’s a very smart middle-aged Journeyman Aeromancer himself. And he doesn’t outrank me, so he won’t threaten my Journeying.”

  “But I would, eh? Well, I know that!” Douglas said, drawing down the corners of his mouth comically. “If you believe—”

  “Believe? I’m certain of it!” cried the Aquamancer.

  “So be it, then,” Douglas decided. “But if you need me...”

  “I’ll not hesitate to call. More than just my Mastery depends on my completing my assigned task, of course. What was the Dark Servant’s purpose in kidnapping the former Ice King? He—if he is a he—must be planning some sort of mischief. To hold the First Citizen as hostage?”

  “I discount that,” said Douglas, shaking his head, “or we’d have heard from him by now. No, I suspect he planned to steal Frigeon’s Powers to rebuild his own! He may not yet have realized that Frigeon’s Powers were dissipated along with his name and Ice Palace. When he finds out Serenit is Powerless ...”

  “Powerless he may be,” said the Sea Otter, “but he knows enough about Wizardry to understand what this Darkness intends, I bet. Serenit’s no fool, Master and Mistress! He’ll masquerade as a full Wizard, just as long as he can.”

  “A good and useful thought.” Douglas nodded in agreement. “Now, Myrn! Your task is only to rescue Serenit. My job is, if it comes to it, to tackle this Darkness thing, But we’ll have to move fast!”

  Myrn nodded, held up her hand for silence, and stood looking out over the mountains for a long moment. Douglas and Marbleheart allowed her the time to think.

  “Yes,” Myrn said at last. “You must send Nameless—Princess Indra, rather—to find her parents and the other flying horse people.”

  “As you suggest,” agreed Douglas.

  “Meanwhile, suppose you go openly into the mountains over there, sweet husband! You’re a full Pyromancer, and this Darkness will be distracted by your appearance so near his haunt from a couple of mere Journeyman.”

  “Granted!”

  “Marbleheart, Cribblon, and I will go into the mountains secretly, find Serenit, free him, and get out as quickly as possible, before the Servant even notices us.”

  “It’ll still leave this Servant to deal with,” objected her husband, shaking his head again. “We can’t just leave him planning and doing mischiefs of all sorts.”

  “Once Serenit is safe,” Myrn pointed out, “my assigned task will be finished. Cribblon and I will return to assist you in dealing with this Servant, whatever his-her-its name or nature might be.”

  “Well...,” Douglas hesitated. “Fine! I’ll send a message this morning to Wizards’ High, explaining the situation. We may need their assistance.”

  “But we daren’t wait for them to arrive, do we?” asked Myrn. “So, I’ll leave Harroun’s valley later today. Will you come with me, Sea Otter?”

  “Of course!” cried Marbleheart. “As a monkey, for the moment. Monkeys are better suited to deserts and waterless mountains than us Sea Otters.”

  “I’ll try to keep an eye on you... and on this Servant, also,” Douglas promised, taking his wife in his arms to say good-bye. “I’ll send you a message, after I send Deka the Wraith to the Wizards ...”

  “Cautiously! This Enemy might detect Deka and guess at your presence. Oh, Douglas! I’d much rather go into danger at your side. Or, better yet, sit on the front stoop of Wizards’ High with our children and Bronze Owl and the cats ... and watch the clouds make castles in the air over Valley.”

  “Once this is done,” her husband promised, smiling at her lovingly and longingly, “we’ll spend a whole fortnight doing nothing else, sweet wife!”

  “I can hardly wait,” murmured Myrn, and she lifted her face to be kissed once again.

  When they returned to Harroun’s house through the village and the gardens, the Aquamancer and the Sea Otter, who had resumed his disguise, were met at the front entrance by Saladim, Indra, and the sand sparrow.

  “I thought I would show you and your friends about our place,” Saladim told Myrn.

  “Thank you, Saladim, but we’ll be leaving as soon as I can make certain arrangements with your father.”

  “I’m ready at any moment,” chirped Cribblon, bobbing his head eagerly. Marbleheart and the flying horse nodded in agreement.

  “You, Princess,” Myrn said to the horse, “must return to Douglas in his cave at once. He needs you to help him locate your parents.”

  “At once!” cried the filly, prancing with eagerness. “If you’re sure you can spare me, Myrn Brightglade, my best friend...”

  “I’ll manage. Douglas needs you,” Myrn said. “Will you go? Although how about some breakfast, first?”

  “I’ve had food,” the little horse assured her. “Bamboo shoots and tender succulents grow beside the pools. There are advantages to being a horse!”

  In a moment she’d said good-bye. Then spreading her bright wings, she shot into the air.

  ****

  Flarman Flowerstalk whipped his trout line out over Crooked Brook, making his lure skip and wriggle like a real live fly by jiggling and jerking his long, flexible pole.

  “Come to papa,” he crooned to the trout, but Brook’s surface remained undisturbed and the fish hidden deep within.

  Black Flame appeared at his side, trying to hide his grin at the fly fisherman’s lack of success.

  “Deka has brought a message from Douglas? I’ll come.”

  The Pyromancer sighed, quickly reeling in his line. “I’m not doing much good here, except to amuse the sprats.”

  The cat regarded Br
ook’s swift-running water as his Master wrapped up his fishing rod, stowed his lures, and lifted his empty creel.

  “See what you can do, then,” he murmured to his Familiar. “Trout for supper?”

  “A promise! I’m an expert fisher-cat.”

  “Well, I suppose I could live with the envy,” chuckled Flarman. “A nice, well-grilled fillet or two’d salve my disappointment pretty well, I suppose. A message from Douglas, you say? I’d better go at once!”

  He climbed nimbly to Old River Road, then passed through the sagging front gate and up the curving brick walk to the front door of Wizards’ High. Bronze Owl seemed to be dozing in the morning sun, hanging on his nail in the center of the right-hand valve.

  “Messenger?” the Pyromancer asked him as he reached for the door handle.

  “Inside,” mumbled the Owl, nodding his head creakily. “From our wandering Wizardlings!”

  He unhooked himself from his nail and flapped after Flarman down the center hallway into the kitchen, where they greeted the Wraith messenger as she floated over the end of the great table, on which Blue Teakettle had just set out a pitcher of iced lemonade and a plate of frosted oatmeal cookies.

  “Where’s Augurian?” Flarman asked Litholt, who’d just entered from the courtyard.

  “He said he was going to sleep late,” Litholt answered. “Shall I wake him?”

  “No, let’s hear what Douglas has to say first.” He sat facing Deka, greeting her affectionately by her name-for-friends-to-use.

  “Such good victuals keep me going for eons and eons,” the Wraith said, setting down her tumbler. “Greetings, Wizards both, and Bronze Owl! I have a message from the younger Pyromancer.”

  “So I heard,” grunted the elder Pyromancer.

  He waved to the Wraith to proceed.

  “Master Pyromancer Douglas Brightglade,” the Wraith recited in perfect imitation of Douglas’s voice, “to the Wizards at Wizards’ High. Greetings, Magisters!”

  “Bother the formalities,” sniffed Litholt. “What does Douglas have to say of himself and his lady?”