by Greg Curtis
Edrick rolled his eyes as he thought about what Wilberton would say if he found out. The last thing he needed was more arguments with the ageing wizard. Especially one where Wilberton might actually have some right on his side.
“I won't. And you should be careful looking through them. Especially if you try casting any of the spells. Grandfather is a hundred years too young to be as he is. It may be that some spell he cast has caused his condition.”
“I'll be careful,” he promised her. “And I don't have a laboratory yet so I should be safe. Because we both know that if your grandfather brought this madness upon himself, it wasn't through casting. It'd be through his potions.”
It was difficult after all to cast a dangerous spell on yourself. You would feel it going wrong and immediately stop casting. But to cast a dangerous spell on a potion was another matter. A wizard – even a Master wizard such as Wilberton – wouldn’t know if a spell had gone wrong until he drank his creation. Potion making was far more dangerous than simple casting, and because he lived alone where there was no one to help him if things went wrong, he'd stayed away from it. But it was also far more effective when it came to making physical changes in a man.
The most powerful wizards had potions that wouldn't just heal them if they needed them to. They had ones that would let them see in the dark or stay awake night and day to study. They could even use them to sharpen their thoughts and improve their memories. All the most advanced wizards crafted potions. And if he was ever to advance his skill that far, he would have to do the same.
“And how are your people dealing with things?” Edrick turned his attention back to his winged guests who were probably wondering what they were talking about. “This has to be very difficult for you.”
“Much the same. We want to go home, but we don't know how. And the wizard is no help. He seems confused.”
“Actually, the word you're looking for is senile. He’s in his dotage.” Edrick ignored the angry scowl Carrie shot his way. “He’s supposed to have retired.”
“And I'm sorry but I don't know how to help.” He guessed that they had come in the faint hope that he could do something. “Wilberton for all that he's a dotard, is a very powerful wizard, and even if I knew the spells involved, I couldn't overcome one of his. Carrie can't either.” He added the last because he knew the winged people would ask if they hadn't already. And while Carrie also had some spells, she was little more capable as a wizard than him.
Then again, he thought, she had had more training in the magical arts than he did. Until he had turned senile she had had the constant guidance of her grandfather – one of the most powerful and learned wizards in the realm. He on the other hand had spent an hour a day with Master Thatchwell – a wizard of far lesser status and even less patience – until he was eighteen. And Master Thatchwell had spent most of that time lecturing him about his laziness – and the time he spent in alehouses with his friends. Or was that complaining? Since then he had studied alone – learning those spells which interested him and ignoring the rest.
“So we were told.” Tyber took over. “But we were also told that there is a Guild?”
“Yes. In Rivernia, the capital of Riverlandia. It’s about a hundred and forty leagues north of Coldwater. It’s called the Guild of the Arcane. I’m not sure what they can do. I'm not a member but both Carrie and Wilberton are.”
More accurately he didn't know what they would do. As far as he could tell the Guild of the Arcane were mostly a collection of the oldest and most learned wizards in the realm. Most of them were probably like Wilberton, well into their dotage. They didn't do anything except meet regularly, have huge banquets and share stories of their great feats of magic. They were more a social club of ancient relics than a true guild. At least that was what his old tutor had always said.
“But anyone can write a letter to them. And you are a wizard. They will listen to you.”
“Oh!” Suddenly Edrick understood why they'd come. And why Carrie had brought them to him. They were desperate. And because Wilberton was her grandfather Carrie didn’t feel she could speak against him. But she could not let this situation to continue. She was trapped. And Wilberton of course would never ask for help. So that just left him. The only other wizard in the town.
But if he did what they wanted, he would be left in a very difficult position. Wilberton would never forgive him for a start. It would be crossing a line that he couldn't uncross. He would also be crossing another, far more powerful wizard even if he was mad. And where that might lead to, he didn't know. Worse, he risked exposing himself to the members of the Guild. His secrets might be revealed.
The ones who should write the letter were the visitors. Unfortunately, he knew full well that the Guild would never consider a letter from anyone who was not a wizard. They might not even read it. According to everything he'd heard, they considered their time too important to spend dealing with the mundane matters of ordinary people.
What these visitors needed was a way to have their letter read. And it struck he that there was one way to ensure that the Guild read the letter. Bribery. They would read the letter if it came with a token they wanted.
“Carrie, can you please gather some mugs and milk from the house and see to the tea for everyone. There's something I need to do.”
“You're going to write the letter?” She looked horrified, and maybe secretly a little relieved too.
“No. You know I can't do that for any number of reasons. The winged people –.” Suddenly he realised he still didn't know what they called themselves. Turning slightly red at his oversight he asked them.
“We are the Argani.”
“Well, the letter needs to come from your people as the victims of this magical accident. My writing it for you wouldn’t help. Even if it wouldn't cause me all sorts of problems and start an all-out war with Wilberton, I'm not the victim. You are. But I can provide you with a token that will make the Guild take some notice of whatever you send.”
With that he got up and headed for the shed to grab his small shears. Mostly he used them to cut the knots out of the fur of his milking goat, but they should do just as well with hair.
Then he headed to his vegetable garden and cut off a few large armfuls of beans. He didn't know why, but the unicorns seemed to love them. After that it was just a matter of heading into the empty lawn and waiting.
It didn't take long. The unicorns like the griffins always kept a close eye on him – or rather, on his home. The griffins were looking for chickens that might have wandered too far from safety, the unicorns for any chance of getting at his vegetables. In both cases it seemed their stomachs ruled their lives.
It wasn't long before he had a unicorn walking up to him and nosing at the beans. Despite the stories told about them, they weren't skittish or shy. And despite the fear that other wizards seemed to have for them, they didn't strike him as dangerous either. Undoubtedly they were powerful, they were certainly immune to any spell a wizard could cast, and that horn could tear through the finest steel – or flesh – but he'd never felt as if he was in any danger from them. They were beautiful though. That fact the bards had got right. Neither horses nor deer, they were some strange hybrid of both. And in them it seemed that they inherited the best parts of each. They were undoubtedly the most graceful animals he had ever seen. They were also extremely intelligent and magical.
“Hey you, I'm afraid I've brought you here for a reason.” He let the unicorn start grazing the pile of beans in his arms, making sure as it put its head down to stay to one side of the horn. That curling spear of horn was a dangerous weapon. “I'm sorry about that.”
Edrick started rubbing its nose with his hand, pleased that the beast let him. But then it wasn't afraid of him. It knew it had nothing to fear. After all, even if he had intended it harm, he doubted he could. The beast was far too quick and powerful for that. If he even tried he'd likely be dead before he moved more than an inch.
“I'm going to n
eed a little piece of your mane. A few hairs.”
The unicorn looked up at Edrick when he said that. Did the beast actually understand him? Edrick couldn't be certain. He'd never really worked out just how clever the unicorns were. But he suspected that the unicorns knew far more than most people would believe.
“It won't hurt. I'll cut them not pull them.” He pulled the shears out of his pocket and showed them to the unicorn. He even gave them a couple of squeezes to show it how they worked.
“And it's for an important cause. I need them as a token for some people who really need my aid.” That he suspected the unicorn understood. Maybe not the details. But the animals knew the quality of a man's heart.
“I’m prepared to pay for the hairs.”
That the unicorn also understood. Edrick knew it because the moment he made the offer, he had an image in his mind of the gate to his garden standing wide open. He didn't need to be a sage to understood what the unicorn wanted.
“Fine!” He agreed. “But only for today.” And just like that the deal was made. He could actually feel the agreement somehow. Then the unicorn took a step closer to him, and stood quietly while Edrick grabbed a few hairs from its mane and snipped them off.
After that he put them in his pocket along with the shears and then slowly led the beast to his vegetable garden and opened the gate. It didn't waste a moment longer with him after that and headed directly into the garden where it started feeding greedily.
Edrick sighed. In the morning he knew, his garden was going to be in ruins. There wouldn't be a beanstalk or a pea left standing. The carrots would have been pulled out of the ground, the parsnips too. He'd be lucky if there was a single watermelon left. But that was the deal he'd made, and he thought it had been a good one.
He wasn't sure that the others would agree with him though. They were wearing shocked expressions on their faces.
“You know, every time I think I know you, that you're almost reasonable, you do something truly bizarre.” Carrie greeted him first with a look on her face that suggested she thought he'd gone crazy. Maybe even as crazy as her grandfather. “That was beyond reckless!”
“I know. Do you have any idea how much a unicorn can eat in a day? My garden's going to be completely ruined!”
He sat down and pulled the hairs out of his pocket and handed them to Stelle. “When you write the letter, include these with it. And mention in the letter that they're a token included for their consideration. I can't tell you what the wizards will do. Whether they'll take what you say seriously or not. But unicorns are extremely rare in Riverlandia and their magic is almost unknown. Every wizard in the Guild will want to see these hairs and touch them. And because of that they will at least read your letter. They will be obliged to do that much.”
While most people would assume the wizards’ interest in the unicorn hairs would be because they wanted to use the magic in the hair, they would be wrong. The real thrill for the wizards lay not in the magic itself but in the feel of purity and freedom that a unicorn’s hair exuded.
“Thank you.” Stelle studied Edrick a little, obviously confused by things. “You are a most generous man. And the unicorns would not come to you were your heart not good. So what sort of criminal are you?”
“Criminal?! I'm not a criminal!” Edrick was caught off guard by the question. But after a few seconds he understood why she thought he might be. “I'm not fleeing justice or anything. I'm hiding from my family. From a truly awful family situation. I just don't want them to know where I am.”
“Yet you tell us nothing of them,” Carrie quickly pointed out.
“I'll tell you this. Your grandfather for all that he's in his dotage and scarcely seems to know what's happening around him, loves you. You're lucky in that. My family – my parents – scarcely even know me. Their only concern for me is that I advance the family's business interests. If they catch me, they'll try to sell me as a husband to another family just to advance a trading alliance. I'm little more than livestock to them. I ran away from that life simply so I could be free. And I don't want to go back.”
“Pretty horses.”
Sybelle unexpectedly came up to him then and handed him his cat, which came as a relief to him. He felt awkward discussing his personal life. Blackie though did not seem particularly impressed at being dumped in his lap. But she didn't complain. She knew he would feed her in time.
“Can we play?”
“No. I'm sorry Sybelle. But unicorns don't really like to play. They like to run. And they don't like being chased.” And then a thought occurred to him.
“Stelle you seem to know about griffins so I'm guessing there must be some on your world. And you know the legends of unicorns. Do you have them as well?”
“Yes. But they don't let just anyone come up to them. And they certainly don't let someone cut their manes.”
“I've been here, feeding them for ten years. And they love beans.” He petted his cat, until she was purring happily, and then reached for the mug of lemon herb tea that had been poured for him. “That grants me certain privileges. Because the way to a unicorn's heart is always through its stomach.” Something that was proven a few moments later as a second unicorn came running up the valley towards them as fast as an arrow in flight, and then cantered into his garden through the open gate.
Edrick groaned quietly. He really wasn't going to have much of a garden left in the morning. But he tried to keep his thoughts on track.
But then it occurred to him that the Argani evidently knew a lot about unicorns as well as griffins. That set him to wondering.
“Could this be your world? Somewhere far away obviously from where your village was?”
It was a faint hope of course. There were thousands if not millions of worlds. What were the chances that this would be theirs?
He was clutching at straws.
“No. The sky's wrong. Slightly too blue. And the smell. Similar, but not the same.”
Edrick was disappointed by her answer – but not surprised. But there was still another possibility. “Even so,” Edrick told her, “this world might be connected to yours. Riverlandia has no griffins and few unicorns, and my thinking is that they aren't from there. They're from here. They simply travel through the gates somehow. Maybe even that the gates were built for them by the ancient Faeries. Do you have gates on your world that lead to another world like this? A world where a once ancient race of beings of great magic lived?”
“Stories. There are tales of such places.” Stelle stared at him, her eyes suddenly wide.
“Then maybe we have another hope. A faint one. Maybe, somewhere in this world there is another gate that leads back to your home.”
“Do you …?”
“No. I don't know. But what I do know is this. The worlds – the realm of the ancient Faeries and Riverlandia anyway – are somehow physically connected. If I walk a league north in Riverlandia and then cross to this realm at that point, I would have walked a league north here too. And I'm guessing that your village is actually in the same place on your world as Coldwater is in Riverlandia. So, if you can get some directions together as to where the nearest gate is on your world from your village, maybe I can find the other side of that gate in this world. Then you can simply walk through my gate and travel to that gate.”
“It's a faint hope at best. It will take time – and that's assuming you have the knowledge needed. But it's something to be investigated. That is, if Wilberton and the Guild can't fix what was done.” Which he had by now almost concluded they wouldn't be able to do, though he didn't want to tell them that. They probably thought the same anyway.
“You are no criminal! You are a blessing from the Lady of the Skies!”
Without warning Stelle leapt toward him, her wings causing her to rise slightly from the ground, and Edrick suddenly found himself wrapped up in a chaotic embrace of arms and wings, while Tyber had grabbed his hand and was shaking it furiously, yelling that he was a godsend. Meanwhile t
he griffins were roaring away in the trees, no doubt laughing at him. Even the unicorns were snorting as they devoured his garden.
It was embarrassing and confusing, and he tried to break free and tell them again and again that it was the most unlikely of possibilities. That they were putting too much hope into it. But no one was listening to him. No one ever did. And somewhere in the background he could hear Carrie laughing away hysterically at his discomfort.
In the end Edrick had to simply put up with it and wait for it to end. But it occurred to him to wonder that if they were like this when he gave them just the faintest sliver of hope, what would they be like when that hope was dashed? Because it almost certainly would be. And then he feared, the trouble would truly begin.
Chapter Four
Edrick had just about made it out of the Sitwell Forest when he saw the riders heading toward him along the track from Coldwater. The sight instantly set him wondering. Were they coming for him? Or did they have business on the far side of the forest in Miston?
