The Azure Wizard

by Nicholas Trandahl

  May gasped in shock with a wide open-mouthed smile. “You already have our creed memorized?”

  “You forget I’m a storyteller, May. I am trained to memorize swiftly and accurately.”

  After a moment the more experienced Forester of the two asked, “Why are you not living as a storyteller?”

  “How is a storyteller to live?” returned Ethan with a clever smile.

  “I don’t know. Garnering respect and prestige in your homeland, I suppose, or making some decent coin performing in Greenwell City, or maybe even perhaps Taedroke.

  “In North Ridge, my village in Vhar, the skills of a storyteller are not in as high demand as those of an artisan or farmer. It is true that in the southern villages of Vhar and the town of Lumberwall I could get great renown and prestige for being a storyteller, but I felt I was still too close to home. I also didn’t just want my life to be handed to me on a golden platter.”

  “And why not?” she asked.

  “Well, for most of my life I didn’t have to lift a finger to help my family with work and chores. All my time was spent in the past, among great leaders and heroes and terrible villains. Call me old-fashioned, I guess, but I actually wanted to earn some degree of happiness.”

  “So why not perform in Greenwell and Wendlith?”

  “When I crossed the border into Greenwell I vowed to myself not to use my talents as a storyteller to make coins. Too much I respect my Vharian heritage to have it turned into a novelty-act or curiosity for the southern baronies.”

  “You said that you wanted to earn happiness. Do you think the life of a Forester of the Three Baronies will give you that?”

  “In its own way, yes,” was his knowing answer.

  They finished eating their snack and sat there cool and content in the shade by the riverside. After a few perfect moments May asked, “Why the Foresters, Ethan? Why not the College of the Three Baronies or the Couriers of Greenwell City or one of the land’s other guilds or organizations? Why did you not take a safer way?”

  Ethan answered immediately with a sad smile, “My grandmother, Ethyl Skalderholt, was the last of my family to pass on. The night before her death she explained to me that she was a Forester of the Three Baronies. She said that she had seen many marvelous things, and she also said that she had seen many things that would bring the strongest man of our village to his knees in a whimpering stupor. She and I were a lot alike. I feel that I do this, becoming a Forester, in respect of her and in honor of her life. I feel she would have wanted me to do this in the end.”

  May smiled sympathetically as she sensed tears welling in Ethan’s eyes as he spoke, and after his explanation she nodded contentedly. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, but May then said, “I recognize her name, Ethyl Skalderholt. I’ve heard it somewhere around the headquarters.”

  “What? What did you hear?” exclaimed Ethan excitedly.

  “I can’t remember. It was only in passing. I’ll try to remember, though, as we travel.”

  Ethan nodded in response with a sigh.

  “Where in the name of Lady Quinn is that damned root?” Ethan asked himself as he crawled on his dirty gauntlets and knees through the dewy dark-green undergrowth of the primeval forest. His scruffy beard and mustache, as well as his limp dirty-blond hair that hung just passed his chin, were damp with sweat, and he felt moisture in the linen garments he wore beneath the armor of his Forester’s uniform. The summer this year was proving to be among the hottest in the past few centuries of this age.

  He and May had been on his Errand for four days now, but to Ethan it seemed that it had been four weeks. He had thought that traveling with Scarlet had been an arduous and a constant trial, but the real Forester’s training surpassed those tests by miles. Every waking moment while walking or resting was spent in study of the natural world of flora and fauna, the weather, and navigation in the wild. Ethan found all his own food and water, not so hard to come by as they were always within hearing distance of the Three Baronies River, he built their campfires and found the two of them adequate shelter from the elements, and he was periodically sent on crazy solo missions to recover and bring back a specific specimen of some random herb or plant to his younger instructor. That was what he was doing now.

  In about two more days they would arrive in Stone’s Shore, but they wouldn’t be spending the night there. May was insistent that they have a midday meal at the town’s inn, The Miner’s Respite, and immediately head back the way they’d come. Ethan assumed May wanted to go about it like this because she wanted to impress her mother, and grandmaster, with her swift completion of the assignment in hopes that she may get another more distant patrol.

  “There you are!” Ethan shouted when he pushed aside some wet ferns to behold a few tiny violet stalks decorated in black bands.

  He grabbed the herbs and yanked them from the spongy detritus of the forest floor, and stood up with a contented sigh. “Well, there’s no hurry getting back,” he said to himself as he placed the sprigs in his satchel and stretched, arms reaching skyward. When he eased his eyes back open he surveyed the landscape in which he found himself. The faint static music of the river could be heard behind him and various deep-voiced birds, including Bog Heralds, with their drab brown coloration save for the shock of green plumage on the back of their heads, called out in the forest around him. This was the first time Ethan had seen woods like this in his twenty-four years. A thick wet mist lay heavy from the forest floor to the canopy above masking all in a grey haze. The abundant thick mossy trunks of the willows and cedars all around him appeared a darker shade of grey in the mist, almost like stone pillars, and the late afternoon sun, hot though it was, nonetheless barely managed to illuminate the land covered in mist.

  With his yellow eyes full of wonder he began the walk back to their campsite in the lea of a massive eroded boulder about twenty yards from the river. After a few minutes of walking towards the sound of the river he finally reached their camp. The fog had dissipated somewhat near the river and Ethan was able to marvel at the gargantuan moss-shrouded boulder that created a large wall and a slight overhang over their campfire, which wasn’t yet lit, and their two heavy cloaks that also doubled as bedrolls. May wasn’t in the camp, but a slight splashing down in the river told him she was taking her afternoon bath. Ethan hadn’t yet taken his and he felt miserably grubby.

  He walked over to his laid-out cloak and tossed his satchel down on it. The satchel was followed by his water skin, following a quick draught, and his belt with the sheathed hand axe. After that he unbuckled his cuirass and slid it off his sweat-drenched form with an exhausted sigh. It was tossed next to his other equipment with his gauntlets and his soaked green shirt so that he was only wearing his trousers.

  Ethan then stepped out of his boots and he knelt down to take the sprigs out of his satchel, slapping a biter that landed on his damp back en route. He reached into the satchel, found the sprigs, and pulled them out and he meant to rise. Before he could, though, something very peculiar happened to him.

  It began as instant blue blindness and a shrill whining in his ears, much like the worst of his anxiety attacks but much more rapid and dire. He fell forward onto his bedroll and groped blindly for the ground just before his face smashed into it. The pure horrible azure void that shrouded his sight intensified and the ringing in his ears got much louder. Ethan grasped his cloak in fistfuls until his hands turned white and he buried his head in his equipment as he let out a primal growl of anger and pain. Suddenly the blindness and deafness subsided and Ethan found himself staring down at Kraegovich, the Forester he and O’Dell had encountered when they first entered the Forester’s compound five days ago.

  The old massive Vharian strode down the Three Baronies Road in the same afternoon sunlight that Ethan presently found himself in, but the region in which he walked was bright and green. Oaks and birch swayed slightly around him in a moderate woodland breeze, and ferns and fallen leaves churned at his booted-feet.
He wore his hood back and Ethan could plainly see the scar on his face. He appeared to be at ease as he marched down the road, and in fact he was even softly whistling a song Ethan recognized as a Vharian tune he had heard his grandmother sing when he was a boy. Despite the appearance of things Ethan sensed Kraegovich was in extreme danger.

  Abruptly the vision was burnt away by the blinding blue void again and the ringing chimed in his ears. As he gaped open his mouth to scream another vision silenced his pain and confusion. This time, also in the same afternoon lighting, Ethan’s awareness seemed to be beside O’Dell, viewing him as he dashed determinedly through the forest. He was drenched in sweat and his face was grim as he bounded over old rotted logs and dodged between thick stands of young oak saplings and blackberry brambles. His gauntleted hand was locked in a viselike grip on his gleaming silver hand axe.

  Ethan was worried at what he was seeing because his friend seemed to be in an urgent hurry of importance, but the storyteller was in the dark about what this could entail. Then he noticed that the setting sunlight was illuminating O’Dell’s right side as he rushed on. O’Dell was heading south, towards Kraegovich. That could only mean one thing; he was chasing the Troll as it was pursuing Kraegovich. Kraegovich was the monster’s next target! It made perfect sense to Ethan for Kraegovich had explained to them when they spoke to him in the foyer that he would be heading south to Woodend but would be returning back to Greenwell City before continuing on another task. If the Troll murdered him it could simply return to the Forester’s Compound in Kraegovich’s guise and kill the order from the inside out.

  At least O’Dell is after him, Ethan thought, but after dwelling on it a bit further Ethan got a feeling in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly became very worried that O’Dell wouldn’t survive on his own, that he wouldn’t be able to stop the Troll without help. Before he could think on it more the vision was shredded by the blue and the ear-piercing whine. Quickly, though, it turned to pitch black and the whining ceased with a dull popping noise like a cork being shot from a bottle. Just like that his vision and senses returned to his present locale, but his gut churned in an uncanny and unforgiving manner. When he tried to sit up he retched all over his cloak and equipment, and when he was done he fell to the side.

  The urgency of the situation forced him to grit his teeth and tense his wiry muscles before he launched himself to his feet and bolted to the river. May was striding from the river naked and dripping with water, her hair pulled back behind her ears but for a few stray strands that swayed in front of her face. Ethan skidded to a stop on the muddy river bank and fell onto his seat when he saw her. Her nude body was athletic but very feminine with a rather perfect hourglass shape to it. The droplets of water on her fair skin glistened in the setting sun, and Ethan’s yellow eyes were instantly drawn to her round pale breasts and the shadow between her legs. As fast as was humanly-possible, though, he averted his eyes out of respect for her and he shouted, “Sorry!”

  May jumped a bit when he first appeared in a blur at the river bank, but she calmed right away, and only laughed when he groveled sheepishly as he stared down into the mud. “It’s alright, Ethan. It was bound to happen sooner or later, anyway,” she stated with a smirk as she lifted a folded white linen shirt from a nearby rock.

  She slipped into the tunic, and, as it was a loose shirt, it hung to her mid-thigh and thus concealed her loins. Her cleavage, though, was extremely ample beyond the loose untied collar of the tunic. Ethan risked a glance up to his companion to make sure she was clothed as she strode towards him, and seeing that she was he launched to his feet. Instantly his feet and legs turned to jelly, and he teetered to the side and fell into the mud with a wet thud. May furrowed her brow in concern and ran forward. As she fell to her knees beside him and put her hands on his tense back she felt that he was very cold to the touch, especially considering the sweltering climate. Also she noticed that he was paler than usual, almost alabaster in hue.

  “Ethan, what’s wrong?”

  He rolled onto his back, May’s hands sliding over his torso as he turned until they settled on his hard muscular abdomen, and he feebly opened his eyes. “I think something bad is about to happen,” was his weak answer.

  May scuttled backwards like a frightened crab with her blue eyes wide and her mouth gaping in shock. “Your … your eyes!” she screamed in a shrill voice.

  “What? What about them?” Ethan replied nervously as he managed to prop himself up on an elbow.

  “They’re,” she stuttered, “they’re … glowing! And they are glowing blue, not yellow!”

  Ethan remained where he was, confused, dumbfounded and scared. His eyes were indeed glowing, shedding a pale blue glow. He couldn’t see himself, but judging by May’s reaction he didn’t doubt that something was amiss. But other matters took precedence over his wild eyes.

  “May, listen to me!” he shouted, “Kraegovich is in trouble. He’s being hunted by the Troll, and O’Dell is attempting to catch up to him. I have a feeling, though, that he’s going to need some help to defeat it. We’ve got to get back to Greenwell City and get help sent after them!”

  “How d-do you know these things, Ethan?” May whispered as she trembled and stared unblinkingly into the fading blue glow in Ethan’s eyes.

  “I’ve seen them, May. I don’t know how to explain it, but you’re going to have to try and trust me, okay?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I trust you,” she replied slowly with her eyes wide.

  She crawled back forward to his semi-prone form, mud streaking her washed skin and shirt, and she asked as she laid her cool hand on his forehead, “What’s the matter with your body? Why are you so cold and enfeebled?”

  Before he spoke, the blue glow in his eyes completely diminished leaving behind his own tired amber gaze. “I don’t know. I don’t have any idea what just happened to me.”

  He began to warm and a slight color began to return to his flesh. May sighed in relief and embraced his tired body in the mud, and their breathing was aligned with each other’s. Suddenly she lifted her head and brought her face swiftly down to his. Her lips pressed into his and a deep passionate kiss ensued that lasted for several moments. Ethan would’ve put his arms around her as they kissed if he would have had the strength to do so. She eventually lifted her face from his and eased open her pretty blue eyes as Ethan opened his own yellow eyes.

  “Where was that from?” Ethan inquired with a weak smile.

  She only smirked and shrugged. “It just,” she began with a short pause as she contemplated it herself, “felt like the right time.”

  Ethan nodded, still smiling, and May asked, “Well, did you find the Snake Root?”

  Ethan motioned towards his open palm with his soaked head, and May followed his motion. There in his hand were the three sprigs of the herb.

  Chapter Twelve

  And Wizardcraft Returns

  Ethan’s strength quickly returned after his eyes stopped glowing and the two of them rushed back to their camp to pack things so that they could get on the move back downriver to Greenwell City. Ethan thought about trying to quickly wash his vomit-soaked cloak in the river, but when he brought it to the riverside he decided to just throw it in. He could hopefully get another back at the compound. When he returned to May she had her uniform completely on over black trousers and her white tunic, and she was pulling her damp hair back into a ponytail.

  Ethan didn’t bother going through his satchel to look for a shirt, and he thus strapped on his leather cuirass over his bare torso. After slipping on his gauntlets and boots he slung his satchel and water skin over his shoulder so that they hung on his lower back, and finally buckled his broad leather belt around his waist. May paced nervously about their campsite as Ethan got ready, and when he was done they wordlessly bolted off to the southeast, following the Three Baronies River as dusk settled on the woodlands.

  As it grew darker and the mist thickened again they found themselves stumbling often through the
wet heavy undergrowth as they hurried along. Ethan clenched his jaw and stayed as close as he could behind the agile May who was obviously much more adept at bounding through the woods and seeing in the dark than he was. She turned her head partly around and shouted, “Was that Wizardcraft, Ethan?”

  Ethan didn’t immediately answer but instead thought about it himself as he ran. He was sure what he saw was real. It wasn’t a delusion or a hallucination. He knew that he was witnessing distant events as they were unfolding in the present time. He remembered a shred of some tale that claimed that when young Wizards first manifested Wizardcraft powers they often received visions or prophecies. He couldn’t explain what happened, but he knew that the Wizards in the tales he had heard of didn’t retch like sick babes when they conjured their powers. Finally he answered, “I don’t know.”

  They ran in silence for a time, until the heart of night when all was darkest in the land. Frogs croaked along the river bank and hopped into the safety of the waters as the two Foresters crashed along, through ferns and over logs. Ethan couldn’t help himself as his gaze was drawn to the countless fireflies that throbbed in their pale green glow throughout the surrounding woods and over the river. They made him think of his own eyes glowing and he shuddered.

  “May, I don’t think we’re going to make it back in time!” Ethan exclaimed through gritted teeth as the futility of what they were trying to do finally settled on him like a bag of rocks.

  She stated flatly, “I know.”

  Suddenly the storyteller was overwhelmed with a feeling that he couldn’t easily explain. It started as a tickle of a feeling in his stomach, like the butterflies of nervousness, but soon it spread out through his chest and extremities. The feeling somehow brought him to the conclusion that there was something he could do. He didn’t know how or why, but he nonetheless knew. The feeling scared him.