Wandering Lark

by Laura J Underwood

  Alaric backed away. The ground was too uneven to allow him to defend with any grace...or so he thought. To his surprise, his own body began to react cleanly with a dancer’s grace, as though he had trained for this moment. Another green-faced youth leapt at him from the side, and Alaric dodged, turning with the attack. The youth flew past, tripping over the leg Alaric suddenly extended into his path and aided by the blow of Alaric’s pommel hitting the back of his head. The blow sent the youth tumbling down the other side of the trail. His body tried to follow, raising the sword to deal a lethal blow, but he checked himself. The hesitation almost cost him when another warrior took a swing at his head, he dodged under the blow and punched hard with his left hand, and knocked his attacker back.

  Alaric heard an equine squeal and turned back in time to see Vagner lunge at a green-cloaked warrior who had worked his way around behind and was attacking Alaric’s flank. The demon’s huge horse head caught the youth in the chest and slammed him into the nearest tree. The youth crumpled into a heap, and the demon opened those equine jaws as though about to devour his victim.

  “No!” Alaric shouted.

  Vagner stopped, looking terribly offended.

  “Get down!” Talena shouted.

  Alaric glanced towards her in time to see a line of archers on the next hummock were drawing arrows and aiming them straight at him. There was not time to really think about it. Alaric reached out with mage senses and snagged essence from the world around him. It swelled willingly at his bidding, and he bound it into the spell, shouting, “Adhar clach!”

  The volley of arrows that Talena dropped to avoid smacked into the hardened air and fell away. His spell shimmered, and a sparkle of translucent colors filled the air in front of him. He gasped, for he had never seen an air spell do that before...

  But it had an impressive affect on the green-cloaked warriors. Almost as one, the archers and the swordsmen surging through the trees froze in their tracks and stared at him.

  “Druidh,” one of them whispered, and the word was repeated so that it spread quickly as a murmur among their numbers.

  Horns, Alaric thought. Now I’ve really gone and done it. They know that I am mageborn.

  Talena started to take advantage of their moment of immobility to renew the attack, but before she could get all the way to her feet, several of the green cloaks leapt on her.

  “Please, don’t hurt her!” Alaric cried.

  They complied, pushing her to the ground and depriving her of her sword. Though small in stature, they were all apparently quite strong. She struggled against their grasps to no avail.

  One of the green cloaks walked straight up to Alaric’s shimmering wall and put a hand to it. His expression went from serious and somber to amused. He looked at Alaric and smiled.

  “You are magister?” he asked.

  Alaric nodded. He didn’t hear Ronan telling him to deny his heritage. “Yes, I am mageborn,” he said.

  “We have been expecting you,” the youth said with a respectful bow of his head. “You must forgive us, Magister, for when your woman cried out and warned the scout, we assumed that you were also of Garrowye...”

  “She’s not my woman,” he said more defensively than he meant to. “And no, I am not from Garrowye. My name is Alaric Braidwine, and I have come to your land to seek an Elder to help me...”

  The youth smiled and chuckled. “As the Elder has been awaiting you,” he said. “Come...since the scout got away, we dare not linger too long. I am Captain Halathor of the Foresters, and I bid you welcome to Taneslaw, Magister Braidwine.”

  Halathor gestured, his fingers working the air in some silent signal. A large number of the “Foresters” suddenly vanished among the green. Those holding Talena down now pulled her off the ground, but Alaric noted that though they released her, they did not give her back her sword. She tried to snatch it from the one who held it, but several of the Foresters put themselves into her path. Fist knotted, she stood and glared at them. Her whole body was tense. Clearly, she wanted to attack and reclaim her weapon, but one of the archers raised his bow and aimed an arrow at her head. She gritted her teeth and looked over at Alaric, and he wondered if she was expecting him to do something.

  “She is Garrowyan,” Halathor said as though reading Alaric’s thoughts. “She is not to be trusted. I sense that she is angry. We cannot allow her to be armed as we are certain she will harm us.”

  “She’s my friend,” Alaric said. “If you hurt her, you will have to hurt me. But I give you my word that she will not hurt you...”

  He shot Talena a glance as he spoke. She blinked and quickly lost her defiant air.

  “As you will,” Halathor said with a shrug. “We will not harm her, Magister, but we will not give back her sword, for she may not come armed where we are going.”

  “Fair enough,” Alaric said.

  Talena frowned and crossed her arms.

  “It’s only for a short while, Talena,” he said.

  “Come,” Halathor repeated. “My Foresters say that the enemy is close. I will show you the safe way. You may bring your horses.”

  “That’s decent of them,” Talena muttered as she marched over to where Kessa stood leaning against Vagner for protection. The mare whuffled worriedly as Talena grabbed the reins and dragged her away from the demon. “Stupid slut mare,” Talena growled.

  Vagner actually smiled as he followed as docile as a dog.

  Alaric sighed and took the path that Halathor gestured to. Well, at least they don’t think we’re the enemy, he thought.

  FIFTY

  Where in the name of Cernunnos is he taking us? Alaric wondered.

  Halathor led them off the trail and through the forest for what felt like a quarter of a league. Alaric managed not to trip over roots and get knocked down by any of the low branches that occasionally crossed his path as their trail wandered aimlessly around knolls and through gullies and across a small stream. It was as though Halathor didn’t want them to know the way, and it occurred to Alaric that he might be taking this path to deceive Talena.

  At length, they began to climb a hill that did not seem to end as quickly as the hummocks they had crossed. Then they broke out of the line of trees. Alaric shaded his eyes against the sudden light of the sun. There was a clearing atop the hill. And in the middle of it was a large menhir of three stones, two standing upright and the third crossing them as a capstone.

  “We are almost there, Magister,” Halathor said. “I have already sent a runner ahead to tell of your coming.”

  “Thank you,” Alaric replied, not sure of what else to say. He caught Talena’s glance. She didn’t look happy.

  As they drew closer to the stones, Alaric saw sigils and glyphs etched into the columns. Some of them looked vaguely familiar, very much like the ones he had seen in the Shadow Vale down in the caverns when he and Shona walked through the tricky path to reach the crypt of the Dragon’s Tongue.

  Halathor put a hand to one of the sigils and said, “Geata fosgail.” As he did, the opening between the dolmens shimmered like a gate spell.

  Mage tongue! Alaric was startled to hear them use spell speech with such practiced ease. But how was that possible? Unless... Alaric brushed Halathor with mage senses. The essence of a mageborn was there, though not in great proportion. Still, it must have been enough to allow him to use magic. He wished Ronan would wake up and explain it to him. When mage blood appeared in those who were essentially mortalborn in Ard-Taebh, they could not use spells...or could they? Fenelon would have had a field day playing with that theory.

  Halathor gestured to one of their escorts, and the youth quickly walked through the shimmering without hesitation. Another followed.

  “Come through at my side, Magister, and bring your beast,” Halathor said. “The woman will come last...”

  Alaric nodded. He was now clutching the “reins” that Vagner conjured so as to look like a horse. He walked beside Halathor and taking a deep breath, stepped into the
whorl. Cold magic tickled him. He was aware that it was “examining” him in some way. A scry spell?

  The whorl spat him out in a courtyard of white marble. Ornate carvings of elemental figures like the ones he had seen in the Shadow Vale were everywhere. Small bits of live greenery had been added into the scene. Lovely dark vines grew and twisted around columns and archways. A long, wide set of stairs rose to a palace-like structure. He could see double doors of white wood, carved like a dragon. The claws on its forelegs were set in such a way as to make handles, and the frame into which the doors were set was carved with the rest of the dragon whose wings spread like an arch over the two doors, and whose head was leaning over the doors. The beast carried what looked like a balance in its jaws, and the globes on either end were fixed with stones that he sensed had a light spell attached to them. It was beautiful, and took his breath away.

  Alaric glanced at the scenery that surrounded them as well. They must have been high up on some mountain, for he could see more snow-capped mountains around them, and forests and fields stretched green below.

  His wonder was cut short when Vagner gave a startled cry. Alaric turned suddenly for the “reins” disappeared from his hand. Vagner was staggering forward, his horse form gone and his demon form now visible for all to see. Right behind him, Talena and Kessa were stepping through with an escort. At the sight of the creature now crouching before her, she put a hand to where her sword had been. Finding it missing, she started to reach into her jerkin for another weapon.

  Her escorts acted quickly, snagging her arms and pulling her off to one side. Kessa started to bolt back, when another guard caught the mare and dragged her to a safe distance on the opposite side. Talena struggled and cried, “No!” and Alaric started to move in her direction until Halathor caught his arm, holding him back.

  “We gave our word, Magister, and she will not be harmed,” he said sharply, and Alaric grew still. The captain of the Foresters then turned to look more closely at the crouching demon. There was no fear in the young captain’s face. In fact, Alaric got the impression such things were quite common to him. Halathor crouched to get a better look. Vagner peered out from under a wing that he had drawn over his own head, uncertainty masking those chiropteran features. Halathor smiled.

  “So this is what you truly look like, Youngerkin,” he said.

  Alaric narrowed his eyes as Halathor straightened up and looked his way.

  “You know what he is?” Alaric asked. “I mean...you knew all along?”

  “I have eyes, Magister Braidwine,” Halathor said. “I could see that he was one of the Youngerkin, but the spell you had set on him kept me from seeing his true form. Here, all illusions are banished, save those of the Elderkin.”

  “Elderkin? Youngerkin?” Alaric shook his head and stepped over to Vagner’s side, putting a reassuring hand on the demon’s shoulder. “Vagner is a demon,” he said.

  “Aye,” Halathor said, “but he is not one of the Elderkin of his species. Like all Youngerkin, he was born after the first turning of the Balance when the Dark Mother first sought to corrupt his kind...”

  Alaric was about to ask more, but a horn sounded. Halathor turned towards the palace. In fact, all those present in the courtyard turned in that direction. The double doors were opening, splitting the white dragon’s belly and chest in half. Its head rose to draw the balance and globes out of the way.

  Standing at the opening was a figure in rich green and gold robes that opened to reveal a matching doublet, breeches and boots. He stepped out of the shadows, and the sunlight picked up flames of light around his red-gold hair and revealed the simple crown adorning his head. Everyone in the courtyard bowed, save Talena. Alaric decided he had better bow as well.

  The figure began to descend the steps. Behind him, Alaric saw a woman dressed just as ornately, and at her side was a small child who was barely toddling on his own.

  But...he’s just a lad, Alaric thought. It occurred to him that every man in this palace stood no higher than his own chin. All of them looked like youths. He would have been surprised to learn any of them were older than fifteen winters. But he sensed that they must have been older than he thought.

  His stance—or the fact that the demon was still crouched next to him like a frightened child—got the crowned youth’s attention right away.

  “Is this the one?” the youth asked. His voice belied the child-like quality of his face. It sounded firm and strong.

  “It is, Your Majesty,” Halathor said. “Your Royal Highness, King Tane Culann bho Fylor, may I present to you Magister Alaric Braidwine.”

  King Tane Culann bho Fylor? Alaric managed not to gasp.

  The king descended from his palace at a more leisurely pace and walked straight over to Alaric and Vagner.

  “Magister Braidwine, you and your Youngerkin are welcome to my Kingdom. “May I call you Alaric?”

  Alaric hesitated, then said, “If it pleases your Majesty.” At least, he assumed that was the proper answer to give a king. Having never actually met one in person in his own land.

  “Good!” the king said, “And you must call me King Culann, for Tane is merely a title.”

  Alaric tried not to frown. Ronan had said something to that effect. “If I may ask, from where does this title originate?”

  “From the first Champion of Light, of course,” King Culann said cheerfully. “But there will be plenty of time to tell you of my illustrious ancestor, Magister Alaric.” He turned back towards the lovely lass and child. “May I present my Queen, Morrana, and my son, Prince Tane Seanon?”

  Alaric bowed to them. The Queen offered a slight nod of her head and turned to look at Talena. The young prince seemed more interested in one of the butterflies that descended from a flowering plant nearby and hovered around him.

  “We will see to quarters for you now, Magister Alaric,” King Culann said. He gestured to one of the waiting servants then added. “Send for Sedar. Tell Sedar that the magister from the far land has finally come...”

  How did they know I was coming? Alaric wondered as a servant rushed back into the palace.

  King Culann then turned towards Talena.

  “And this I take it is the Garrowyan spy?” he said with less civility.

  “You.” Talena started to struggle. Her escorts kept her well in hand, once more prompting Alaric to marvel at how strong they were to be so short.

  “But they said she would not be harmed,” Alaric said.

  “And she shall not,” King Culann assured him with a quick smile. “But she may not continue to carry the artifact she bears, and she will not be allowed to freely roam my palace, for I fear she is not to be trusted. At least, not for now.”

  Talena snarled something and twisted so that she broke the grasp of one of her escorts. She quickly kicked the other in the knee, knocking him off balance. Then she reached into her jerkin and jerked forth something like a dagger, but before she could draw it completely, King Culann put forth his hand and hissed, “Adhar clach!” Alaric opened his mouth to warn Talena too late. She ran headfirst into a wall of hardened air, and the force knocked her flat. Alaric started to leap to her assistance, but Halathor once more restrained him. Other guards rushed in and pulled Talena off the ground. She was dazed and wobbly, and could not resist and they removed the dagger from her hand.

  A female guard stepped up then and reached into Talena’s jerkin, searching until she found a small mirror and a medallion. One of the others handed her the dagger. She brought them to the king, kneeling as she held the artifacts out for his inspection. King Culann picked up the mirror first then handed it to a servant. Next, he took up the medallion and shook his head. Alaric could see that the metal disk with its stone was vibrating in his hand. This, King Culann gave into the hands of the servant as well.

  Finally, he picked up the dagger. It looked like it was formed from a crystal. At the sight of it, King Culann frowned.

  “You were going to use this on me?” he asked as h
e walked over to Talena. Alaric started to follow, but Halathor held him back and shook his head.

  “He will not harm her,” Halathor said.

  “Or was this intended for another’s heart?” King Culann asked. He held the dagger up for her inspection.

  Talena glared at her captors. Her lips tightened into a hard line, and she refused to answer him. King Culann sighed and shook his head.

  “You do not understand,” he said softly. “Such a sacred thing should never be soiled by blood, not even my own. It will be returned to its rightful owner in time. And you will be given time in my cells to think about your allegiance to those who would kill us for what we are, solely because they fear what we are. Take her to the west tower. And do not leave her unguarded.”

  “You won’t hurt her?” Alaric watched as they dragged Talena towards another smaller set of doors.

  The king turned to him and smiled. “No, Magister Alaric. We have no desire to spill her blood, no more than we want to spill the blood of her kinsmen in Garrowye who keep trying to invade our borders with their armies. But long ago when the Balance of the World was changed, the lines were drawn, and we find ourselves forced to defend our land from the Temples of the Triad. The Temple Patriarchs would seek to destroy all those who follow the path of the elders.” He held up the dagger. “This was never meant to be in their possession. Even now, I can feel the poison they have fed it with their lies and their deceit, just as I feel the stolen lives of those who discover their heritage and paid for it with their deaths. It is a sad thing to deny what one truly is. Her people have done so too long.”

  “You’re mageborn then?”

  “Mageborn? Magister? They are the same in your world?” The king looked thoughtful as he spoke.

  Alaric nodded.

  “All of us here are...mageborn, as you say,” King Culann said and tapped the crystal dagger in the palm of his hand. “We have been so since the beginning of time when the Great Dragons were created by the Giant Ymir.”