Wizard's Blood [Part One]

by Bob Blink

  Things were easier here, Cheurt reflected, noticing Cerkim and Ranul riding up ahead with their quivers of coppered arrows. The smith who provided the knowledge of how to create a mist of the valuable metal, which could then be deposited on the arrowheads with whatever thickness they desired, had changed the rules for Cheurt. It made for the most expensive arrows in the world, but a weapon which could bring down the magical beasts of the great forest, and more importantly, another wizard as well. More than once he’d given one of the two archers the task of eliminating a particularly annoying opponent back home. These arrows could not be stopped by those unsuspecting wizards, and afterwards their bones were easily carried away and buried. It seemed as if they simply disappeared, with no evidence to point his way.

  On a positive note, the strange itching he’d had for a time after his return from Earth had been gone for days now. Whatever the original cause, the problem was gone. He couldn’t help but wonder if the spell he’d used had something to do with resolving the matter. Maybe someday he’d find out, but he could move forward and turn his full attention to the many facets of the project that was just getting started. Gaea had no idea what was coming, but the people would learn soon enough.

  Chapter 10

  Weary beyond telling, Jolan looked back at the tall peaks far behind them and was glad they had almost reached their destination. He’d thought himself in shape, but the passage across those monstrous peaks had taxed his last reserves, and a couple of days rest while they made preparations for the next leg of their journey would be more than welcome. Asari said the way the wizards had gone was a bit worse, but they could augment their stamina by tapping the power field, and thus could keep up a killing pace for days. His friend didn’t look near as weary as he felt, perhaps because of his age, and perhaps because he made this trek several times a year. He now understood why the others hadn’t attempted to bring along horses. Most would have been lost in crossing over into the Land of Giants. In the back of his mind he knew he’d have to make the trip at least once more when he returned to the small patch in the campground after learning how to trigger the field to take him back home. Something told him it wouldn’t end there, and the long weary trek would be a part of his life for some time.

  Trailways was somewhat of a disappointment. After the long days on the trail, the thought of a small haven of civilization had brought certain pictures to the back of Jolan’s mind, if not all the way to his consciousness where he could have rejected them. What he was seeing now confirmed what he already suspected from his long conversations with Asari. This was a civilization that hadn’t advanced to the same level as on Earth. There were no cars, nor streets that were paved and orderly. Electricity, if it existed at all here, didn’t extend to the folk that lived this far from the big cities. Horses and carts rumbled along the dirt streets, and buildings as often as not opened directly on the edge of the busy road without the benefit of a real walking place for pedestrians. While he knew it couldn’t be, a part of him was disappointed to realize there would be no Jack-in-the-Box with a cold drink and hamburger to be had, and even the idea of an ice cold drink was very unlikely he realized. Cool would be the best available.

  Still, he’d expected more. Asari had told him that this was the only organized stopping point for several days of travel in any direction, and it had formed because it was located where the trails converged from the routes that departed from the four countries that comprised the Settled Lands. As such, and knowing that over two hundred people lived here full time, a certain expectation had developed. So far, as the two men approached the center of the village from what had finally developed into an actual trail, they’d seen only a few houses, mostly of modest construction. As they’d continued to make their way toward the main trail through the sparsely clustered structures, a gradual betterment in the look and quality of the homes could be noted, showing where the more affluent lived. There was money to be made here, otherwise most would not have stayed. It would take a rugged person to remain here, away from what conveniences did exist in other parts of this land.

  “This is the main way through the village,” Asari explained, pointing at the wide path in front of them. This time of day it was reasonably quiet, and they only saw a couple of men riding horseback and one heavily loaded wagon making its way down the road.

  “Those leaving would have gotten an early start, and the ones coming in won’t be arriving for a few hours.”

  He pointed to the west.

  “That way leads to Angon, which is the farthest of the four countries. The closest cities are three weeks by horseback, and the capital, Cobalo, is twice that.”

  Turning, he pointed to the east.

  “We need to go this way a bit. Eventually, continuing on this way you will get to Kimlelm.”

  “It looks like there are a number of folks across the way,” Jolan noted, pointing to a large area in front of them where a couple of dozen wagons were located. None had horses hitched up, so they apparently had no intention of going anywhere soon.

  “That’s one of the two gathering areas,” Asari explained. “There is another at the other end of the village. Families making their way sometimes want to stop a few days, and merchants often park their caravans and see what trading they can do in the fairgrounds. Sometimes it is quite lively. Traders bring goods from their home country for trade to other traders, who then take them the rest of the way into one of the other countries. Others make the complete trip, but also want to rest up here, and perhaps make a few sales, before moving on.

  Asari suddenly waved to a large man with a head full of graying hair sitting on the porch of a rugged looking structure they were passing as they made their way down the road receiving a friendly wave in return.

  “That’s Dinal,” he explained. “He’s the local constable, about the only official we have here other than the forces of the Royal Guard from the various lands that randomly patrol the roads.”

  “I’m sort of surprised there would be police officers here,” Jolan said.

  “Dinal was a Sergeant Major in the Angon Royal Guard and was badly wounded some years back, which resulted in him losing part of his leg. After that, he was no good to the Guard, so they discharged him after he recovered and was fitted for a wooden replacement. The innkeeper at the Long Walk Inn knew him, and had had some trouble with the scum that is common along the road. He convinced Dinal of our need and encouraged him to come. The businessmen all contribute to pay him an annual stipend, and it has worked out well. The rougher sort have learned that he is a hard man, and not afraid of them.

  The function of the next structure was obvious from the assortment of goods sitting out front and the colorful displays in the window. Half a dozen shoppers were poking through the goods out front, and Jolan could see a few more inside.

  “That’s Old Man Crikel’s place. We’ll have to visit him to get some of the items you mentioned we would be needing before setting off for Seret. He has by far the best selection, although sometimes he’s a bit pricey.”

  “You mean he’s got competition?” Jolan asked. “I think I can see the far end of the village already.”

  It was true. Not too far away he could see where the village appeared to end and the road started its way up a small hill on its way to Kimlelm.

  “Traders is down the road a bit next to the fairgrounds. It’s a lot smaller, and has mostly used goods. Prices are better because of it, but quality is a bit more random.”

  They’d obviously reached the center of the village and the crossroads that had been the motivation for its beginning. The road split, with one path heading mostly north, and another cutting off the east-west path by heading southeast.

  “Seret,” Asari said pointing to the northern route, and then he pointed to the southeast path and said “Ale’ald”. He looked at Jolan purposefully.

  “Do you think our “friends” will be on their way already?” he asked.

  “They should be,” Asari replied. �
��They should be a couple of days ahead of us. We’ll know soon enough,” he said mysteriously.

  Jolan frowned, but continued to look around. To his right was a substantial structure that appeared very well built. A two story wooden building that had never seen paint, but survived here looking solid and well cared for.

  The Long Walk Inn he was told. “That’s the best place in town, but a bit expensive. The well-to-do merchants sometimes stay there. Their personal guard and most others are more likely to stay across the way in the Drunken Steer. It’s a bit rougher but costs less.”

  Asari pointed at the two establishments across the road from the inns. One was an eatery that was very popular with locals and travelers alike. It didn’t have a name, but everyone knew about it he said. The other was also nameless, but was a place for drinking and the like. It was wild, and could be dangerous, and was often visited by his friend Dinal.

  They continued walking. To their left Jolan could see the stables. It was physically the largest business in town, with several buildings, and large stock yards out in back. The owner provided a place for travelers to keep their animals, as well as having a small selection of his own for sale. Animals here were well cared for. None were destined for the table. It was simply too far to drive them through the crossroads. They would arrive at any useful destination emaciated and without much value. The animals in this remote place represented the means by which riders and wagons traveled, and therefore were of great value to their owners. He could understand why Asari had warned of the expense associated with acquiring good horses for their own travel.

  Located across from the stables were the fairgrounds, a large area in which a number of very colorful tents had been erected. This was an impromptu marketplace, ever changing, and represented goods from all of the four countries in the Settled Lands. Merchants could stay as long as they desired, and sell whatever they had brought. The range of goods thus varied week to week.

  “We turn here,” Asari said as they reached a small river at the far end of the stable grounds. Jolan followed him as they headed north, noting the gathering spot across the water. They continued past the stockyards, past a small ramshackle boarding house and beyond where the stream split. They continued following the stream northward until Asari suddenly pointed to a small structure off to the left built of trees and rock. It wasn’t pretty, but it looked structurally sound.

  “Finally,” Jolan said, looking forward to the opportunity to simply sit for a while.

  Jolan noted that heavy shutters sealed each of the windows, and while the door was closed securely, there was no sign of a lock as Asari opened it and peered inside. The care with which the place had been closed up was directed at keeping critters out, and not protecting it against human interlopers. As they walked inside, Jolan noted the mustiness from being closed up for a long time. Asari made his way to the windows, opened the shutters and locked them in place, allowing the mild breeze to pass through the house.

  They both dropped their packs and travel gear, but before Jolan could take a seat in one of the two crude, but sturdy, wooden chairs by the only table in the room, Asari motioned for him to follow. He lead him towards the back of the house and into the smaller of the remaining two rooms. It reminded Jolan of his garage back home and was obviously intended for storage. Shelves lined two of the walls, and an assortment of random junk was located on the shelves. A number of large barrels that looked surprisingly well made were stacked against the wall adjacent to the living area. Wondering what his young friend was up to, he watched him reach back behind a stack of old broken pots and do something with his hands.

  A section of the stone wall at the back of the room simply ceased to exist, leaving an open passageway in its place.

  “Holy Shit!” Jolan exclaimed, caught completely by surprise.

  “In here,” Asari insisted, and headed into the short passageway ahead of him.

  It opened into a medium sized stone room with no windows or vents to the outside, yet the ceiling glowed with enough light he could see quite easily. There were a half dozen oddly shaped structures along the back wall, four of which had glowing surfaces about a foot and a half square near the top. As he looked more closely, Jolan could see that the others had the same type of smooth panels, but they were all dark.

  Asari lead him to one of the two middle units that had the glowing screens. He could see what appeared to be a view of the countryside taken from far above, with one small glowing circle situated about a third of the way up from the bottom and maybe two inches from the leftmost edge. Looking at the unit to his right, Jolan noted that this one had at least a dozen of the small glowing dots.

  “That is probably them,” the young man said pointing. “Let’s see if we can tell.”

  He reached out and put his finger on the dot, which caused the screen to blank momentarily, and then to display a picture, still from above but appearing to be much closer to the ground, of a group of men riding down a rocky trail. They seemed to be moving quickly, but it was easy to see there were seven riders and twice that number of horses. Asari did something on the flat area in front of the “display” and suddenly the view magnified yet again, zooming in on one of the riders. There was no mistaking the face Jolan saw on the screen in front of him.

  “That’s Cheurt,” he exclaimed.

  Asari nodded. “I thought it must be them. If they maintain the pace they’ve set so far they will be back in Ale’ald in three more days.”

  “My God, what is this thing?” Jolan asked. He’d already tried looking for something that showed what powered the units, or what carried the signal. He hadn’t been able to find anything. Each of the structures could have been made of solid rock from all he could tell, and the “displays” transitioned from a smooth surface to rough granite seamlessly at the edges.

  “They monitor the trails between here and the various lands they serve,” Asari said. “When someone crosses into the active region, some five miles from Trailways or the far end of the road, they become active. The small dots show each group on the road. It is relatively easy to see who is in each party.”

  “What about the dark screens?”

  “They have been forever dark. Either they are no longer functional, or they are to show areas that are no longer used. I don’t know.”

  He pointed to the screen he and Jolan had been looking at that still tracked Cheurt as he made his way down the trail.

  “This one is often dark. There are few travelers from Ale’ald. Once Cheurt and the other wizards pass beyond the far end, it will go dark unless someone else is on the road.”

  “This is how you know he’s coming, isn’t it?”

  Asari nodded. “I can see anyone on the road from A’e’ald days before they arrive. I suspect even their magic cannot hide from the “windows’.”

  “Who built them? How do they work?”

  Jolan had dozens of questions, but Asari held up his hand.

  “I have no answers. My father discovered the cave by accident. It was inside of some badly overgrown rocks that appeared surprisingly regular. He guessed it might have been a structure a long time past. We built the house over the front and moved in after he discovered the way to open the passage and what was inside. It is something from the far past. Who built it and why is not known to me. It has to have been created by use of the power, since it always works, and requires no special care. Father was afraid a dispute would develop over who should control it if he revealed its presence, and so it remained hidden.

  “Come,” Asari said. “You can look all you want later. Now rest while I go tell a few of my “neighbors” I have returned so they don’t wonder about the activity here. I’ll also bring some food. I am tired of eating the same thing every meal.”

  Asari closed off the entrance to the room, and the solid wall of the back room reappeared hiding completely the passage to the monitors.

  When Asari returned with two huge meat pies, filled with lumps of tender meat and a v
ariety of vegetables with a thick brown gravy, Jolan had finished checking out the beds for bugs or other critters. They sat at the table and ate, while Asari filled him in on the village and it’s inhabitants.

  Chapter 11

  Lying on one of the lumpy, straw filled “beds” in Asari’s second room, Jolan slept like the dead. For once he was allowed to wake up naturally, when his body was good and ready, and not when the trail called for their departure. It was several hours after sun-up, local hours, when he finally rolled over and acknowledged the arrival of the new day. Asari was nowhere to be seen; well the boy never had shown any desire to linger beyond sunrise. Jolan suspected he was out touching base with some of his friends.

  Rolling out of bed, he scratched at a couple of the numerous bites he’d received the previous night. He’d been so tired when he went to bed he hadn’t noticed the bed bugs or whatever they were making a feast off his body. Now he could see numerous places he’d been bitten. He pumped some water from the well and had a long drink, then wandered outside to the enclosed bathing stall that Asari had shown him the previous evening. Stripping off his clothes, he poured as many bowls of the cold water over his body as he could stand, washing away the worst of the grime and sweat, and easing the itching from the bites somewhat. If the copper they had was actually worth as much as Asari claimed, he was staying in the inn tonight, where Asari had told him they had warm baths, a barber who could do a decent job of shaving off the stubble of his beard, and large comfortable beds. The beard hadn’t grown any more since he’d learned the trick of stopping it, but he was still carrying around the stubble that had started before that not having a good means of shaving that wouldn’t take away half his face. He looked at the ragged and dirty clothes before shaking them out and slipping them on once again. He only had the one set, so until they could do some shopping he had no choice.