Kraegovich left the ruined blade buried in the acid-filled corpse of the Deep Wolf and he stood tall and tense awaiting further violence with small dangerous eyes and flexed muscles. His silvery-grey hair and the scar on the left side of his face gleamed in the moonlight. As he began to control his breathing and relax he realized that May was screeching in terror beneath the corpse of the first Deep Wolf that Kraegovich had felled. He rushed over to her to see her head and shoulders protruding beneath the lifeless black mass atop her, and her eyes were wide and panicked. “Kraegovich!” she cried.
It was then that the older Forester noticed that the wound from the severed head of the beast was leaking acid onto May. His own eyes grew wide in alarm and he bent down, grabbing thick fistfuls of furry taut flesh, and began jerking the animal off of her. As soon as the slightest weight upon her had been alleviated May squirmed backward out from underneath the Deep Wolf and she sprang to her feet. Her cuirass was deluged with choking odorous smoke as it dissolved under the onslaught of the acid. Breathing heavily in fright she began unbuckling the armor with her shivering gauntleted hands. After a few clumsy slips of her fingers she finally undid the cuirass and tossed it to the side to corrode in the grass of the forest floor.
She ran her shaky hands over her torso that lay hidden beneath her sweat-soaked white tunic, and moaned in relief when she discovered the acid hadn’t yet made it through the armor to scald her flesh. She collapsed exhaustedly to her knees and hung her head so that her chin practically lay upon her chest, her wet hair hanging over her shoulder beside her face. Kraegovich rushed over to her after a quick kick into the corpse of the headless Deep Wolf that had trapped her, and he slid to his own knees beside the much smaller Forester.
“May, what are you doing here?” he barked in alarm as he put his hand on her shoulder. He then noticed that she was visibly shivering, and his grandfatherly-instincts took control.
“Are you okay, darling?”
May looked up into his rich brown eyes and responded in a voice about to break into sobs, “Kraegovich, we found you.”
He furrowed his bushy brow in confusion and replied with a quick smirk, “It would seem that I found you, May. Not the other way.”
She lowered her head and tears began to trickle from her lowered face. These didn’t escape Kraegovich’s attention and he began to get worried. “What are you doing here? Before I left I heard you had got into a mess with some brigands outside Greenwell City. I figured your mother wouldn’t let you out of the Compound till autumn.”
“Ethan, he …” she began but broke into exhausted sobs.
May’s hand, though, extended outward to point to Ethan’s still form in the grass of the clearing in the midst of the corpses of the Deep Wolves. Kraegovich’s worried gaze went to where she pointed and he gasped. He hadn’t noticed the fellow Vharian during the combat. Then he noticed the blue snaking runes that ran up the storyteller’s arms.
As he stood, never taking his eyes from the young man, he whispered, “What is wrong with him?”
May rose behind the old man and followed him over to Ethan. Kraegovich bent down and warily traced his hand along the blue tattoo-like symbols that flowed up Ethan’s thin arms, the whole time his brow tensed low shadowing his eyes. “He used Wizardcraft, Kraegovich,” May finally answered.
“What?”
“Ethan used Wizardcraft, twice tonight.”
Kraegovich at first looked up into May’s tear-streaked dirty face incredulously, but upon seeing the very dread seriousness in her visage, his too changed to mirror her own. “What do you mean he used Wizardcraft, May?” he asked in a very serious stern manner.
“I mean just that. Ethan Skalderholt is a Wizard. He received a vision of you walking down the Three Baronies Road whistling a Vharian song this afternoon. He then used …,” May was forced to catch her breath and regain her composure, “very powerful Wizardcraft to transport us a little ways north of here. He apparently got us as close to you as he could.”
Kraegovich was slack-jawed and at a complete loss for words. He looked back down at the storyteller, a Vharian like him, but he saw him as something else. He was raised to show respect to storytellers where he was raised by his family in Palerock, a small bountiful village a little ways west of Lumberwall, but what he now viewed Ethan with was something beyond respect. He wasn’t sure if he saw Ethan as human anymore. Wizardcraft had returned to the Three Baronies, and it had come with this young skinny boy from up north. To Kraegovich, Ethan was something more akin to one of the Ancestors than human.
The older Forester looked back up into May’s face with another furrowed, concerned mask and he inquired, “But why would the two of you come to me? I’m just heading south to Woodend on a routine assignment.”
“O’Dell is after you, moving as fast he can through the woods to catch you as the Three Baronies Road snakes back to the west. The Troll is after you, Kraegovich. It obviously seeks your form to infiltrate our ranks in Greenwell City. You’re going back there after you’re done with your southern patrol anyway. It’s the perfect cover for the beast.”
Kraegovich took this information in, let it absorb, and he clenched his jaw. “Let it come then. I grow tired of that monster, like all of us Foresters do.”
“What about O’Dell? He could be anywhere.”
“The road is a couple hundred yards to the east of here. That westward bend you spoke of is just to the east of here, in fact. Let’s go there and wait for O’Dell to find us. He has the skill of a Woodfolk out in these woods. He won’t miss us.”
Chapter Fourteen
When a Wizard Awakens
It was nearing dawn, the sky showing a faint pinkish hue in the breaks in the trees to the east, when Kraegovich and May settled down at the side of the Three Baronies Road with Ethan. The storyteller was still unconscious but he was beginning to groan and stir in his sleep, and he seemed to have returned to regular temperature. The collage of old oak and birch that shrouded the roadsides seemed to sigh at the prospects of an even hotter day as Dawn Heralds began to lightly sing in the boughs of the trees.
Kraegovich had taken off his black shirt and placed it in a rolled-up bundle beneath Ethan’s head as he lay on the ground. Then the old Forester had buckled his cuirass back over his immense, shirtless, muscular torso. He sat cross-legged beside Ethan with his silver hand axe, the only weapon of all three Foresters that had survived the onslaught of the Deep Wolves, resting in his lap. May sat atop a moss-covered log by Ethan’s head hugging her knees. Her blond hair hung limply about her face.
Kraegovich stared blankly into the woods directly across from Ethan and without stirring he asked quietly, “What do you make of those Deep Wolves?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything like them,” was her soft answer.
“Well, I think that I have.”
May lifted her head from her knees and looked intently at Kraegovich with her blue eyes. “What did you hear?”
“As a boy I heard a tale dating back to the Ancient Age told by one of our village’s storytellers. It was a scary story, especially for one as young as I was when I heard it. It was about two brothers, warriors both, speeding through the Forests of Greenwell en route to an encampment of Lady Quinn’s loyalists. They had infiltrated Greenwell City and made off with Illumis’s tactical documents and plans, but they had been discovered. Vile Wizards working for Illumis the Wizard Emperor sent captive Deep Wolves after them. One brother made it back to the encampment, but with horrid wounds. The Deep Wolves in this story, though, were described as Wizardcraft-tainted beasts with acid for blood.”
“Well why haven’t they been seen for a thousand years?” asked May.
“Maybe when Wizardcraft died out in the Three Baronies at the end of the Ancient Age it also vanished from the odd Wizardcraft-tainted monsters that were said to once exist. It vanished from them just as it vanished from humans. Thus the beasts became just regular animals, albeit still a bit bizarre and
exotic. Take the Deep Wolves, for instance. Haven’t they ever seemed a bit off compared to other wild animals? And what about the Blood Bears of Vhar, or the Sun Cats of Wendlith, or even the Ice Cats of the Ice Wilds beyond the mountains? I’ve also heard stories of large spine-backed serpents bedecked in green scales called Emerald Wurms in the uninhabited southern reaches of the Barony of Greenwell, amongst the Wurm Hills, that it is said no man has ever crossed and lived to tell the tale. And similar serpents called Sea Wurms are said to dwell in the Ocean. Where did all of these beasts come from if not from ancient Wizardcraft?”
He continued, “When that lad, Ethan, brought Wizardcraft back to our land maybe it returned to all the unnatural beasts too.”
Kraegovich and May exchanged looks of dread and she replied in a hushed whisper, “I think the wilds of the Three Baronies just got a whole lot more dangerous, Kraegovich.”
“Aye, lass, I would even begin to worry that all these mighty beasts would seek to reclaim their territories from we folk that have prospered and settled them since the days of Wizardcraft and war. The last thousand years they’ve watched us, and they’ve been helpless without their treacherous abilities and powers. Maybe now, May, they’ll believe that their time has again come to ravage and slaughter us Vharians, Greenwellians, and Wendlithians.”
Just as the sun was beginning to rise Ethan eased open his busy yellow eyes and beheld the world in a way he never dreamt he could. The colors of the forest in the glow of the dawn were so vibrant that the almost hurt to see, but they were too beautiful that he couldn’t look away. He let out the slightest of laughs and sat up straight on the forest floor. May gasped and Kraegovich, still sitting on the ground next to Ethan, reached an arm out to steady the storyteller.
“Ethan, are you alright?!” cried May as she leapt off of the log behind him and embraced him from behind with a hug that threatened his body’s integrity.
“I’m fine, May,” he grunted as he loosened her hug so he could turn around in her arms. He embraced her warmly. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt this good, actually.”
Tears ran down May’s childlike cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut and initiated a very passionate kiss between her and Ethan. He returned it, and for a long moment they did nothing in the Three Baronies except to savor the sweet taste of each other’s kiss. They finally ended after the third or fourth fake cough from their elder who stood off to the side with his arms crossed. Ethan turned to face him and extended his sigil-shrouded hand. “It's nice to see you again, Kraegovich.”
Kraegovich extended his huge meaty hand and shook Ethan’s callous-free hand, the hand of a storyteller.
“And the same to you, Ethan Skalderholt.”
Finally Ethan noticed the strange symbols that ran up his arm. “What in the Soul Wastes is all this stuff!?”
May reached out and rubbed her hand gently up and down his tense arm. She answered, “These appeared after you transported us here. They were glowing blue like your eyes were glowing earlier, but even as the light from them faded the symbols remained.”
Ethan suddenly became very serious and a grave look shadowed his youthful bearded face. He cried, “Where’s the Troll? Have you seen it or O’Dell yet?”
Kraegovich shook his head and answered, “No sign of the beast or O’Dell, but May told me everything that you saw.”
Ethan sighed in relief and nodded.
“The world changed while you were asleep, Ethan,” stated May as she reached down, picked up Kraegovich’s black shirt, and tossed it to its owner.
“How so?”
“Ethan, you’re a Wizard. You brought us hundreds of miles across Greenwell to Kraegovich in an instant. You can use Wizardcraft, the first person able to in the First Age. You’ve returned Wizardcraft to the Three Baronies, and Kraegovich and I have already had to deal with the consequences.”
Ethan let what May said absorb into his hectic mind. Not only colors were exaggerated to Ethan, but sounds were clearer, and the feel of the warming summer air was crisp to his skin. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.
Kraegovich answered for her in his deep voice, “You may have unknowingly returned Wizardcraft powers to certain beasts that dwell in the Three Baronies. I found you two as May was losing a fight against a trio of Deep Wolves, but they weren’t Deep Wolves like we know them. These had acid for blood as well as acid in their bite. All of our weapons except a single hand axe were lost in the fight, and May lost her cuirass as well.”
Ethan looked at his companions in disbelief, and long moments passed without a word as all three of the Foresters sat back down on the forest floor to the side of the Three Baronies Road. The morning sunshine slanted into their resting spot from the east. Finally May broke the silence between them as she said, “Do you think that our axe is enough to defeat the Troll should it find us before O’Dell?”
Kraegovich chuckled and shook his head, “Sorry, May, but no axe will defeat the Troll, nor any sword, spear, bow, or hammer. It heals wounds from weapons due to a Wizardcraft regenerative property.”
“And besides,” added Ethan, “I don’t think having O’Dell here will make much of a difference at all. He doesn’t yet know how to kill it. When he saved me in Deephollow he buried his axe in its skull and we fled from the village like our hair was on fire. I don’t think anything we Foresters have for weapons stands a chance at defeating that ancient shape-shifting monster.”
“Then why does O’Dell agree to continue hunting it?” asked May.
“There are three reasons actually. First of all he has tremendous respect for your mother, especially after she saved him from a mess of Wendlithian bandits years and years ago. Second, it gives him an excuse to avoid regular patrols, and allows him the opportunity to visit many out-of-the-way locales in the Three Baronies and visit his Woodfolk family. Third, he thinks that maybe there is a chance that he will indeed come across that elusive secret to defeating our ancient foe,” explained Kraegovich.
Ethan crossed his arms over his bare chest and asked after a minute, “Where’s my cuirass and my supplies?”
“We left them back by the corpses of the Deep Wolves. Don’t worry. You’ll get replacements back in Greenwell City,” answered May.
“I’m not worried about replacements. I’m worried about surviving an attack by the Troll.”
The comment hung ominously in the air as the three of them waited there at the roadside for either O’Dell or the Troll to arrive. Finally, one of them did.
O’Dell dashed around a bend in the wide dirt road and he sprinted straight towards the Foresters. He was pouring sweat and was streaked in mud and scratches, probably from low branches and brambles. His cloak hung from his bulging satchel and he wore no shirt or tunic beneath his hide cuirass. His long dark hair was soiled and damp and he had the beginnings of a beard on his angular face.
When they noticed him Ethan, Kraegovich, and May stood up with relieved grins and stepped out onto the road to greet him. “Kraegovich, you son of a bitch, your legs are too damn long! Even walking, you are still about as fast as me cutting cross-country!” cried an exhausted O’Dell.
The two of them met in thunderous hug that, like always, ended with O’Dell laughing and pleading in pain to be released from the old Vharian’s iron embrace. He moved on to May who he locked in a strong embrace of his own. As she sobbed quietly he kissed the top of her head and whispered quiet reassurances to her. Eventually he turned and faced Ethan. O’Dell froze.
“What in Lady Quinn’s name happened to you?”
Ethan smiled sheepishly and nervously scratched the bicep of his right arm. “I … uh …messed myself up pretty good,” was his answer.
“Okay, but why do you have those swirly blue markings all over your arms?”
Kraegovich answered for Ethan, “He’s a Wizard, O’Dell. He used powerful Wizardcraft, and it permanently marked his skin.”
O’Dell didn’t turn from Ethan and the corner of his mouth turned sl
ightly up in a smile. “The kid’s a Wizard? The Troll has the last vestiges of Wizardcraft left in the Three Baronies. Wizards died out at the dawning of the First Age. I certainly won’t argue that Wizardcraft never existed, but it’s a fact that it hasn’t blessed our lives in a thousand years.”
“It’s not a blessing, O’Dell,” responded Ethan in an even calm voice, “it’s terrifying and it hurts when it happens.”
O’Dell’s smile faded and he studied his friend intently from his decent distance. Finally he said, “I thought you and May were en route to Stone’s Shore. What in the Soul Wastes are you doing here?”
“I saw Kraegovich in a vision, a Wizardcraft vision that I had early last evening. In the same vision I saw you barreling through the woods after him, and I knew you were after the Troll. And that meant that the Troll was after Kraegovich. We tried running back to Greenwell City but it just would have taken too long. We had to warn Kraegovich directly and fast. So I used Wizardcraft to get us here.”
O’Dell couldn’t tear his gaze from the fascinating individual before him until May finally interrupted his stare by stepping into O’Dell’s line of sight. She asked, “O’Dell, where is the Troll?”
“I don’t know. I was counting on finding it before it found Kraegovich, but if I already found you guys then that means that the Troll has already found you too and it’s watching us as we stand here.”
That brought a shiver to Ethan, despite the rising summer heat, and all four nervously scanned their woodland surroundings of still oaks and birches. “So what do we do?” whispered Ethan.
“We stay together as a group, spend today here, camp here, and tomorrow morning we begin our trek back to Greenwell City,” explained Kraegovich.
The Azure Wizard Page 13
