The Flying Sorcerers

by David Gerrold

  My own wives were standing about nervously, waiting for me. Numbers one and two were trying to comfort number three, who was most upset. “He kept trying to talk to me! He kept trying to talk to me!”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” I told her. “You will not be beaten for his trespass. You did right to run.” My words had an immediate calming effect on the distraught woman, more so than all the stroking and soothing of the other two wives, once more proving that only a man can know how to handle the unusual situation.

  “Pick up your packs,” I told them. “We must be on our way.”

  “On our way?” questioned one. “But we just got here.

  “We must move again,” I said, “before this area is blasted. The mad magician’s animal manners have blinded you to the true danger. Shoogar will follow Purple up here. Now, pick up your packs or I will beat all three of you.”

  They did as I bade them — but with no small amount of grumbling. Even though I thought to remove their hobbles so as to speed the journey, they grumbled — and for once they had cause. For a day and a half we had fled the site of the coming duel. Purple had easily, thoughtlessly nullified that effort with only a few moments of flight.

  Within an hour the encampment was deserted. As we moved down the hill, I thought I saw Purple moving like a lost soul through the empty lean-to shelters.

  We were the only family to return to the village. Where the others had fled I did not know. Probably south, away from the whole region. They had likely lost all interest in watching the duel, even from a distance. Now they wanted only to save their skins.

  In the fading daylight, we approached the village warily. The blue sun winked out behind the edge of the world, leaving only the semicircular bulge of the red. The mists rising off the distant swamps took fire from the glow. It was as if the whole western edge of the world were aflame. I could almost smell the burning of it, a smell of disaster on the evening wind.

  I left my wives at the nest, the nest to which I had thought we would never return, and headed toward Shoogar’s. I carried a pack with me — a meal for him — perhaps his last. As I made my way through the village I could see the many effects of his spellcasting. Here and there, some of our proudest housetrees lay on their sides, as if they had been blasted out of the ground with great force. Others seemed to have withered and died where they stood.

  Here and there a nest lay on the ground, shattered walls laying it open to the elements. Everywhere were great patches of dying vegetation. The scavenger animals were gone. There were no sounds of nightbirds. Except for my wives, myself, and of course, Shoogar, the village was empty. And dead.

  Even if Shoogar won the duel, none would ever be able to return to this village. Nor would they want to. Its stability had been permanently destroyed.

  All was silent and brooding.

  The dead grass crunched under my feet as I approached Shoogar’s nest. I knocked cautiously on the wall.

  When he appeared I gasped in horror. Shoogar had gone gray and haggard; new circles had appeared under his eyes and his skin was discolored in angry red patches as if he had been caught too close to one of his own spells.

  But what had startled me most was that Shoogar had shaved off all his fur! He was totally naked and hairless — a frightened caricature of the mad magician!

  He greeted me with a wan smile, grateful for my company. I began to lay out the ritual supper for him. It is traditional that on the night before a duel the men of the village serve a meal of faith to their patron warlock. But the others had fled, so that duty had fallen on me alone.

  I stood silently by and waited, serving him at each gesture or grunt. It was not much of a meal, but it was the best I could prepare under such circumstances. Shoogar seemed not to mind. He ate slowly, savoring every bite. He looked tired and his hands trembled as he moved. But he ate heartily.

  By the time he laid aside his bone foot-stabber, the red sun had long disappeared from the west. The moons had not yet appeared. He moved slowly, but whether from satiation or exhaustion, it was impossible to tell.

  “Where are the others?” he asked.

  They’ve fled.” I explained what happened. Shoogar listened carefully, occasionally picking at some previously overlooked morsel in the bowls before him.

  “I did not expect the stranger to move,” he muttered. “It is a bad thing — but clever. Now I must alter my spell to account for this new factor. You say he tried to talk to the women?” He bit into a fruit.

  I nodded, “My number three wife.”

  “Ptah!” Shoogar spat out the seeds in disgust, “The man must have no taste. Hmp. If one is going to lower oneself to talk to women, one could at least choose the women of a worthy rival.”

  “You have no women,” I pointed out.

  “It’s still an insult to me,” brooded Shoogar.

  “Perhaps he doesn’t know any better. Remember, he said that the ways of his homeland are very different from ours.”

  “Ignorance could be the excuse for his bad manners,” Shoogar grumbled, “but only madness could explain the man’s trespasses against common sense.”

  “It is said that a madman possesses the strength of ten …”

  Shoogar gave me a look, “I know what it said. Most of the time I said it first”

  We sat there in silence. After a while I asked, “What do you think will happen on the morrow?”

  “There will be a duel. One will win, one will lose.”

  “But who …?’! prompted.

  “If it were possible to tell which magician would win a duel, there would be no need for duels.”

  Again we sat in silence. This was the first time Shoogar had referred to the duel with any indication of doubt. Always before he had expressed confidence in his own abilities and skepticism for the powers of Purple. Clearly the duel had taken its toll even before the first spell had been cast.

  “Lant,” he said abruptly, “I will need your help.”

  I looked up startled. “Me? But I know nothing of magic. You have told me that I am a fool countless times. Is it wise to risk such an important undertaking in the hands of a …?”

  “Shut up, Lant,” he said softly. I shut. “All you have to do is help me transport my spellcasting equipment up the mountain to Purple’s nest. We will need two bicycles or some pack animals. I cannot carry it all myself.”

  I breathed easier at that. “Oh, well, in that case —”

  We were on our way within the hour.

  It was close to dawn when we reached the site of the encampment. The deserted lean-tos and shelters stood bleak and empty in the night, like some fearful city of the dead. I found myself trembling.

  We rode through it wordlessly, finally parking our bicycles on the slope just below the spring. We could hear it babbling carelessly in the dark.

  Taking care to keep as quiet as possible, we edged forward, up the hill. I held my breath till we topped the rise, then let it out in a whoosh. Yes, the nest was still there.

  I believe I would have cried bitter tears had it been gone. I am sure it would have killed Shoogar. The frustration of having an enemy flee from him in such a manner would have been too much.

  We crept back to the deserted encampment, there to wait the coming of dawn. I ached for a chance to sleep, but Shoogar gave me a potion to keep me awake. To keep him company, he said. He began laying out his equipment, organizing and sorting. “If I can only take him by surprise,” he muttered. He paused to oil a metal knife. “And if only there were some way to draw him away from his nest…”

  That’s not needed,” I blurted. “He will probably leave it by himself. He is testing again. He said this when I spoke to him. He wants to test the mountain.”

  “H’m; said Shoogar. “This is a bit of good fortune. I hope that he tests the mountain the same way that he tested the village; for when he tested the village he was gone from his nest almost the entire day.”

  “What if he doesn’t? What if he returns before th
e curse is finished?”

  “Let us hope he does not.”

  “Can’t you do something?”

  Shoogar paused, thought for a moment, then rummaged in his kit. He produced a small leather pouch of dust and another of herbs. “Here, go and spread this dust around the outside of his nest. It is very fine dust; it will float in the air for hours. If he breathes any of it, it will produce a very strong yearning in him. He will not return until that yearning is satisfied.”

  “But, what about me?”

  “That’s what the herbs are for. When you finish with the dust, you will take half of those herbs and chew them well. When they turn bitter in your mouth, swallow them, but not until they turn bitter. Bring the rest of the herbs back to me, so I may chew them. They will make us both immune to the power of the dust.”

  I nodded, then crept up the hill and did as I was instructed. When I brought the two leather pouches back to Shoogar he was just laying out the last of his equipment. One swollen pouch he handled most carefully. “Powdered magician’s hair,” he explained. I did not blame him for handling it carefully. He had sacrificed much to produce it; his squat and shaven body trembled with the cold.

  Abruptly, a troubled look crossed his face, “I am sure that Purple’s power is in some way connected with his nest. I must get into it somehow. That is the only part of my curse that I am in doubt about. I must get into that nest…”

  My heart leapt. “But, I can help you there— ” I fairly shouted, then remembered to lower my voice. “Today — I mean, yesterday (for dawn was fast approaching) — I was able to get close enough to Purple to observe how he worked his doorspell.”

  Shoogar nearly leapt at me, “Lant, you are a fool!” Then he thought to lower his voice. “Why did you not tell me this earlier?” he hissed.

  “You did not ask me.”

  “Well, I am asking you now — how does it work?”

  I explained what I had seen, the pattern of bumps on the nestwall, how Purple had tapped at them in a certain way and how the door had slid open immediately after. Shoogar listened carefully. “Obviously, the order in which he touched the bumps is the way the spell in controlled. Think, Lant! Which bumps did he touch?”

  “That I did not see…” I admitted.

  Shoogar cursed, “Then why bother to tell me how to open the door if you do not know? Lant, you are a fool.”

  “I am sorry — but it happened so quickly. If I could only remember — If I could only see it again —”

  “Perhaps …” said Shoogar. “Perhaps … Lant, have you ever been placed under the spell of the open mind?”

  I shook my head.

  “It is a spell of great power. It can be used to make you remember things that you think you have forgotten.”

  “Uh, is it dangerous?”

  “No more so than any other spell.”

  “Well,” I said, picking up my bicycle, “good luck with your duel, Shoogar. I will see you when it is —”

  “Lant,” he said evenly, “if you take one more step downslope, I will work your name into the curse along with Purple’s.”

  I laid the bicycle down again. It had been worth a try.

  My feelings must have shown, for Shoogar said, “Don’t be so fearful. I will do my best to protect you. Suddenly you have become a very important part of this duel. The knowledge locked up in your mind may make the difference between success and failure.”

  “But, Shoogar, I am a fool. You have told me that too many times for it to be otherwise. I admit it. I am a fool. You could not be wrong in your judgment of my character. What good could I be to you?”

  “Lant,” said Shoogar, “you are not a fool. Believe me. Sometimes in my quickness of temper I have made rash statements. But I have only the greatest respect for your judgment, Lant. You are not a fool.”

  “Oh, but I am,” I insisted.

  “You are not!” Shoogar said. “Besides, it does not take any great mental prowess to remember something as simple as you have described. Even an idiot such as you could do it!”

  “Oh, but I will be only in your way, Shoogar. Please let me return to my family —”

  “And have the other men of the village think you a coward?”

  “It would be a small burden to bear —”

  “Never!” snapped Shoogar. “No friend of mine shall wear the brand of coward. You will stay here with me, Lant. And you should be grateful that I care so much for you as a friend.”

  He turned again to the equipment laid out upon the ground. I sighed in resignation and sat down to wait. Dawn was already seeping into the east.

  Shoogar turned back to me, “Your part in this will be easy, Lant. There is no reason to fear.”

  “But, the danger —”

  He dismissed it with a gesture, “There will be no danger if you follow my instructions exactly as I give them to you.”

  “I will follow your instructions.”

  “Good. There can be no room for error. Even the tiniest mistake could cost us both our lives.”

  “But you just said there would be no danger —”

  “Of course not. Not if you follow instructions. Most of the hard work has already been done. Don’t forget, I had to construct the equations: I had to prepare the ingredients, and I had to stabilize the symbology necessary to make the various incantations and potions work. All you have to do is help me place them in the proper place at the proper time.”

  “I thought all I had to do was help you open the nest —”

  “Of course. But if you are going to be there anyway, you might as well help me with the rest.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “And whatever you do, you must not try to speak to me. This is very important. When the suns rise, we shall begin — and once we begin, I must not be distracted at all. Except as is necessary to the curse I will not speak. Do you under-stand?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now, listen. There is one more thing. A very important thing. It has nothing to do with the curse, Lant, but for your own protection you must be exceedingly careful not to lesnerize.”

  “Lesnerize?” I asked. “What is lesnerize …?

  But he pointed instead to the east. Day had seeped red/flashed-blue over the hills. Shoogar fell to his knees and began chanting to the suns.

  The curse had begun.

  The first step was a ritual cleansing, a purification so that we would not contaminate the curse with some long-forgotten residual spell.

  Then came the sanctification, the prayer for forgiveness to the suns, Ouells and Virn, and to the moons, all eleven of them — now in the configuration of Eccar the Man, he who had served the gods so well that he had been elevated to god hood himself.

  Other prayers were offered to the river god, the wind god, the gods of violence and magic, of engineering, of birds and duels of wars, of past and present and future, of skies and seas and tides. And, of course, to Elcin, the thunder god. We offered sacrifice to all of them, and sought their blessings in the endeavors to come. We prayed that they would blame the stranger and not us for the affronts about to be done to them.

  Then we cleansed ourselves again.

  We gathered up the spellcasting equipment and crept the slope to where the mad magician’s nest waited. Behind and below us the mist which had covered all the lowlands at dawn thinned as the two suns rose higher. The ponderous red sun had turned the mists pink while the pinpoint blue burned them away. We could see for miles.

  We topped the rise slowly. Slightly below us, on the other side, was the black egg of Purple’s nest, waiting grim and brooding in the silent morning. It was closed, but was it deserted?

  I wanted to ask Shoogar what the next step was, but his last instruction made me fear even to breathe without being told. Shoogar must have sensed my indecision, for he said, “Now we wait…”

  The suns rose higher in the sky. The last of the mists disappeared from the land. And the egg sat silent on the steppes. The only sound was the g
urgling of the spring.

  Abruptly, the door of the nest slid open and Purple emerged. He stretched slowly and took a deep breath, then let it out with a sigh. I wondered if the yearning dust was still floating in the air. If it were, then Purple had just filled his lungs with it. He showed no reaction though as he closed the door of his nest behind him. If the dust was working, then it was very subtle.

  We held our breaths as he began climbing up the slope of the hills. Shortly he disappeared over the top of one, and we were alone with the nest. Shoogar scrambled eagerly for it, I followed in his wake, not quite so eager.

  Shoogar surveyed the nest carefully. He strode around it three times, finally coming to a stop in front of the orange and oval outline that was the door.

  This first important step was the crucial one. Shoogar had to gain entrance into Purple’s nest. If he could not, then all of the rest of his careful preparations would be for naught. He would be unable to complete the rest of the spell.

  So much depended on the spell of the open mind.

  He positioned me in the exact spot I had been standing when I observed how Purple had opened his nest. Then he brought out a device of glass and held it before my eyes, commanding me to look into it.

  I wondered if the strain of the past three days had been too much for my friend. I saw no answers within the device of glass. But I did as he said, and looked into it. He began chanting at me softly, slowly, in that high croaking voice of his. I tried to concentrate on his words, but the crystal thing kept flickering light into my eyes.

  Nor could I focus my sight upon the thing. It seemed to fade in and out of existence even as Shoogar held it. I tried to follow where it went when it disappeared, but it was revolving too fast. The sound of his chanting wove in and out with the flashes of light, and all of it together seemed to be whirling and twirling, churning and turning and — the world was —

  Abruptly, I was wide awake.

  Nothing had happened.