Maverick

by Curtis, Greg

  Her attention quickly returned to him.

  “You’re a wizard?” Of course he didn’t look like one, which was probably why she was surprised, and neither did he live like one. Where was the grandeur of a wizard’s tower or a place in the Guild Hall? Where were the heavily embroidered silk robes, or the gold necklaces and rings? Where were the clean shaved face or neatly manicured beard and hair in ringlets? Somehow a log cabin in the middle of a great forest and woodsman’s leathers didn’t seem right. Nor did a tall, strong powerfully built woodsman with hair dark, long and wild, stubble down his cheeks, heavily muscled arms and skin bronzed from the sun, a double recurved longbow hanging off one shoulder and a huge double headed axe strapped to his back seem very wizardly. Most wizards couldn’t have even lifted the axe let alone swung it, or drawn the bowstring for that matter. Turning the pages of dusty old tomes was as much exercise as they could normally manage.

  Perhaps he should have explained and yet for some reason he felt it still wasn’t the time.

  “I was, a long time ago my lady. Now I’m a woodsman. But we don’t have time for this conversation now. Can we carry on please. The sun hasn’t yet reached midday and I’d like to make the crest of that hill before lunch. I’ll answer all your questions then.”

  His plea seemed to work and grudgingly she nodded to him and they set off once more, heading south along the winding riverbank up the gentle slope to the saddle of the hill at the head of the valley. He wasn’t fooled though. When they sat down for lunch she would be full of questions for him and he doubted she’d like the answers. But then he didn’t really like the thought of telling her them either. Privacy was one of the things he cherished, and one of the few blessings he’d found in his life in the wilds. Of course privacy was now a thing of the past as was his home, and travelling with so many children, so was peace.

  Essaline could control them, mostly, keep them relatively quiet and stop them from wandering off, but even she couldn’t stop them grumbling about the long walk, and he wasn’t used to wandering the forest with others. It worried him, but he couldn’t tell the children off, not without the girls bursting into tears or Petras challenging him, and without Essaline he knew it would have been much worse. If she had questions he knew he had to answer them. He owed her that.

  They travelled in silence, more or less, for another few hours, making surprisingly good time, but then the weather was good, he was using a little of his magic to open up the trail through the undergrowth a little wider in front of them, and letting it close behind them, and the kids were all in surprisingly good shape, while the slowest, Petras and Essaline rode Willow, along with most of their provisions. Holly the goat who had her own little saddlebag that allowed her to stick her head out and complain about her ill treatment was also riding, though she clearly didn’t enjoy the experience and kept telling them so every chance she got. Petras probably didn’t enjoy it any more than her, but he rode because as a dwarf he might be a reasonable sprinter over short distances but not a walker, and Essaline rode in front of him because of her injury.

  Meanwhile Marjan was enjoying the journey, more so than he would have expected. With only a fraction of his library with him, almost none of his magical sundries, and little in the way of coin to buy provisions along the way or restock his magical tomes whenever he got wherever he was going, it was almost as though he was giving up on his studies, abandoning his life’s work, and that for a wizard, was everything. Likewise his home of the last ten years, now locked up tight and already several leagues behind them, was abandoned, and he had no idea if he would ever be able to return to it, or if he did, if it would still be standing. Overnight he had become a refugee, all but destitute, ten years of his life abandoned. It should have been a difficult time for him, but it wasn’t. He felt alive for the first time in many years, almost as if he was starting his life all over again.

  Maybe it was that he had spent too long alone, in hiding from his past, or maybe it was simply the company, but it almost seemed as though a part of him had woken up after many long years sleeping. Maybe it was simply that finally he had a chance to act as a wizard again, out in the open. Whatever the reason however, he enjoyed it and he let that feeling wash over him.

  Normally he would take the road through to Snowy Falls, it was quicker and easier, and he would have ridden there in a few hours, but even walking, making his way through the deep forest he called home with a party of children in his care, very real danger all around, and a very good chance that he might never return to his home again, he could find some pleasure in the trip.

  The air was clean and fresh for once, the last of the odours and smoke from the distant cities having been washed away by the cleansing rain of the previous night, the feeling of life returning to the land all around him was invigorating, and the sun beating down on his back pleased him inordinately. Then again the promise of spring was in the air, and he wasn’t the only one who knew it.

  They’d passed a family of snow foxes earlier that morning, their glorious, thick, white and russet red fur unmistakeable, a vixen with her pups already out in the world, and he’d known a sense of satisfaction at the sight. They should be about exploring the world, and soon he knew, the deer and the elk would be returning from their winter hideaways, followed by the wolves and even if he was lucky, a few golden hinds. They frequented the Allyssian Forest from time to time and though it was always hard to spot them, even for a wizard, he could usually feel their presence, and sometimes they even grazed in his glade.

  Too add to his joy, the wildflowers were starting to bloom as they did every spring, and he could see little patches of riotous colour here and there, and smell the sweet, heady fragrances as they summoned the bees to them. It was a good time of year to be out in the forest.

  Every so often as they walked he couldn’t help but whistle out a few airs, poor renditions of the minstrels’ art but still pleasing to him. It was still chilly in the shade but winter was finally leaving the land and spring was almost in the air, filling the forest with its promise while here and there he could see the first few glorious buds emerging from their winter sleep. Whatever was happening in the wider world, the forest was as it should be. How could a man not be happy?

  The children too were happy, or so he thought. With the fear behind them, as best it could be, and a clear destination in mind, plus the promise of some food in their stomachs, they were becoming once more what they always should have been, children. Curious, irritating, playful, noisy, rebellious and with seven of them a true handful, but still children. Several times he had heard the girls giggling quietly among themselves as they shared a private joke of some sort, and though he shushed them for it, it was still good to see a smile gracing some of their faces.

  Only Essaline was in a sour mood, and she mainly because she didn’t know what to make of him. A wizard, living alone in the depths of a forest, calling himself a woodsman, dressed in old leathers, and groomed barely at all, that was not normal, and perhaps she guessed some of the trouble that had plagued his life. But even she couldn’t be unhappy forever, and lunch he figured, would help to raise even her spirits, especially when he answered her questions. For good or ill once she knew the truth at least she would have no need to worry about him, or so he hoped.

  “What’s that?” Sassa was the first to see the ancient stone structure on the top of the hill they were cresting, a small round half dome with a spire on the top, but then as a dryad or part dryad she was peculiarly sensitive to man made things, especially when they were out in the wild. Then too she was probably the only one of the children who loved the woods as much as he did.

  “Good eyes Sassa! That’s where we’ll stop for lunch.” He smiled at her, an expression his face wasn’t particularly used to and he could only imagine how it must look to the others, a death’s head grimace he had once been told, and yet he was still rewarded with another in return which pleased him more than he could say. These children had been through a lo
t, but they were still tough, and perhaps it was nice to be seen by them in turn as a friend.

  “Its an ancient shrine, built long before men roamed these lands, or at least humans from Gunderland, and a good place for me to send my thoughts ahead while we rest.” It was also the closest structure to Snowy Falls, and he needed to know what lay ahead of them, if the village still stood, or if it too had been overrun. He had to know their destination. On the other hand Essaline was looking at him once more as though he’d said he was going to cook them all for dinner. As if the magic was somehow unusual. Elves he had been taught, were knowledgeable of such magic, though as he understood it, most had only a smattering of the ability. It was their druids who were especially gifted, and Essaline was not a druid. She had some of the gift he was certain, a few spells, a couple of shapes, but her true gift was in faith and knowledge and maybe the heart too.

  A few minutes later they reached the shrine itself, and as he had many times before Marjan took a few moments to drink in its ancient spirit, letting it fill him with the magic of the life all around. Whoever had built it, and what little that was known about it said it had been here at least a thousand years though he suspected it was much older still, had taken great care in shaping its spiritual connection with the land, though not so much in crafting it.

  The altar was still intact, but then there wasn’t much to go wrong with such a simple structure, merely two massive boulders of granite laid flat on the ground and their tops shaved off, while a third granite plank of immense proportions sat on top of them, forming a stone table. Other than for the effects of the weather, which had worn some of the sharp edges smooth, it surely looked the same as it had however many thousands of years before when it had been laid there, and it would probably remain the same for many more thousands of years to come.

  The circular walls of the half amphitheatre that surrounded it however, were a different story. Once he guessed they had stood at least fifteen feet high, and spanned a full forty feet across, but now all that remained were their broken remains. You could see the outline of what had once been, but the stones themselves that had been so perfectly shaped into blocks and then carefully placed, were mostly gone. Some had fallen over, to land on the stone cobbles or roll down the hill they had just climbed, others were simply missing without explanation, no doubt having rolled somewhere much further down the hill to become buried by trees that grew up around them.

  Meanwhile the cobbles themselves were a shadow of what they had once been, with plants having ripped their way through them to lift them in many places and push them completely aside elsewhere. Once he knew, they had been painted, a few of the cobbles still showed splashes of faded colour here and there, but now whatever motif had once been was lost to time, as were the pews, unless those who had come here had stood or sat on the floor.

  Who had built this place, this shrine to the world, was unknown, as was everything else about it. Gunderland, at least the first written records of those who had made this land their home, those which had survived the unseen wars, had only been written perhaps eight or nine hundred years before, and this shrine was much older than that, as were many other structures within the province. Clearly there had been others here long before men had arrived, but who they were and where they’d gone, that was a mystery lost to time.

  Still none of that mattered to them just then as the remains of the stone block walls granted them a slight measure of protection from the chill wind and any prying eyes, their height at the top of the hill allowed him to spy on the surrounds, and the peace of wilds which suffused the entire shrine, granted him a little extra ability with the spells he needed to use, and maybe a little warning as well should something unnatural come across them. It was a good place to have lunch and do what needed to be done. It was also a good place for a wizard of life just to sit down and let the cares of the world pass him by as he done more than a few times over the years. This though wasn’t to be one of those times.

  “Children, don’t wander more than twenty paces, but gather what firewood you can find on the forest floor and place it in that pit. Also if you have any particular gods you worship, now would be a good time to give thanks to them and perhaps ask a favour or two.” He watched them scatter like leaves in a storm with a smile, and knew they would be back soon with the promised wood. Though they hadn’t walked that far, perhaps four or five leagues across an easy trail, that was more than enough for a young child to work up a healthy appetite. This afternoon they would walk perhaps half the same distance again, and he knew they would welcome a good meal and a comfortable place to rest. He only hoped it would be in Snowy Falls. If not they would have to walk a little further and make their shelter in some caves he knew.

  “Lady Essaline, if you could perhaps get out the container of oat cakes and dried fruit from the bags, while I get some water from the stream.” Though it was probably a mistake he went to help her down from the horse and was almost surprised when she accepted his aid without argument. With all her suspicions and unanswered questions he doubted he was her favourite person right then. But she smiled politely, even gave him her thanks, and then went off meekly to do as he asked. Petras meanwhile had slid off Willow’s back the instant he’d known they were stopping for lunch and was busy somewhere in the woods, gathering firewood and chasing his friends merrily, the sound of children’s laughter echoing through the hills. Though it was probably a foolish thing to do in the forest when there were enemies about, it was a good sound to hear on such an evil day and he didn’t tell them off as he should have.

  The resilience of the children was amazing and their spirit inspiring. The curiosity of their teacher was less so. Still she did as he asked, as she needed to, and soon she had all the children sitting around a small fire chewing away on their cakes, while water for the tea boiled. She even had the children being quiet for once as they let their hunger guide them. But then they were hungry and the cakes, sweetened with honey and filled with fruit as well as oats were always a chewy treat, which was why he loved to make them. Sadly even with all the cooking he’d done the previous night, what they had wouldn’t last for more than three or four days. They’d have to hunt, fish and forage along their way.

  “Are you a hedge wizard?” The moment she had finished with her own chores after giving the children their lunches, and some time after he had lit the fire for the kettle with a simple gesture, confirming all he’d said, her questions returned, and Marjan sighed knowing he would have to tell her the truth. Even if she hadn’t been an elf and thus naturally good at spotting misdirection, she had the right to know. So too perhaps did the children if he was to lead them, and he couldn’t help but notice that even as they kept nibbling on their trail cakes, they’d stopped talking and instead were focussing all their attention on him.

  “No. I was guild trained for eight years in Gunder itself. I left when I was eighteen, and that was a decade ago.” As if he was a mere village spellcaster. His strength while not that of a master was far more than that of a hedge wizard, and he was slightly irritated by the question. Pride it seemed was still a failing of his. Of course that left her with only a very few possibilities, each one worse then the last, and they were about to become fewer.

  “You failed your classes?” It happened sometimes though not very often, the masters didn’t take students without ability into the guild and they refused to allow any to fail, and even though it too was a snub on his abilities, Marjan accepted it with all the good grace he could manage. It was strange to discover that after all this time he still had so much false pride remaining. That was something he would have to work on.

  “No again good maiden. I was a good student, diligent and talented. I worked hard and I did well in my studies. Too well if anything, and I have grown in strength and knowledge since then.” She was starting to run out of possibilities and they both knew it.

  “You’re a runaway then?” He so much wanted to say yes. It made sense, it fitted everything she
already knew about him, and there was some honour in it. Spellcasters occasionally ran away from the guilds for a variety of reasons, some of them even worthy. There was only one problem, it wasn’t the truth and she knew it even before she asked. She could see it in his eyes. Besides he would have told her much earlier if it was.

  “No. I did not leave of my own free will.” She stared at him then, surely understanding the painful truth written in his downcast eyes, but not wanting to say it. So finally he said it for her, speaking aloud the words he had never said to anyone before.

  “I was expelled and exiled. I am a maverick, and as such I may never return to the Guild.” It was the plain truth, unvarnished and painful and yet after all these years not as upsetting as he’d thought it would be. Time was the greatest of healers as they said, and a decade was a goodly length of time to forget the worst of his pain, or at least to let it ease. Even for a wizard.