Maverick

by Curtis, Greg

  Then, when it was finally over, he let the magic go, releasing the underground rivers, allowing the water to drain away, solidifying the ground once more and at the same time entombing the entire army in a dirt grave. There would be no bodies to fester in the open air, no smell of rot and decay, just flesh that the worms would slowly eat, and eventually give life to the soil and the plants. At least he knew that never again would they attack the innocents.

  Defeated, drowned and buried, it was the complete victory, and all done by one maverick wizard not yet thirty years old. He should have been pleased with himself, proud even but he wasn’t. He wasn’t even tired strangely enough. He was just sad. Never had he been responsible for the loss of so much life, and though he knew it had been necessary, that it was self defence, and that whatever had happened to these beasts and their masters had transformed them into something unnatural, an abomination in truth and something that should not live, he still mourned their passing.

  “Is it over?” Essaline’s voice, more a hoarse whisper than anything more, floated up to him and he nodded. Then remembering that she couldn’t see him from where she lay at the cave mouth below him, he told her the same. The army was gone and they were safe. He only wished that he could have put a feeling of triumph into his words, but he couldn’t. It felt more like a crime he had just committed.

  “Then we should move on and greet our people.” Avril was clearly more in control of herself as she told them the simple truth, but then she had spotted something he had not. In the distance, on the ridge of a hill at the far end of the southern road, a group of riders had appeared. The elves had finally arrived. It was about time. He wondered how much they’d seen, whether he would have to explain himself to them, but in truth it didn’t matter. They were here, the party had their escort home, and his duty was done.

  Of course he realised staring down at the vertical cliff face in front of him, getting down was not going to be so easy. He was going to have to cut in a new path, actually almost a tunnel, and that when he had already used so much magic.

  Marjan sighed quietly to himself as he prepared himself for some more earthworks. And later he’d have to inform the guild of the battle he’d fought and no doubt upset them as well. It was going to be a long day.

  ****************

  Sitting on Willow, his goat chewing happily away at his leathers, she’d decided they were more than just edible of late, they were tasty, and being all but surrounded by the party of rangers, Marjan felt distinctly uncomfortable, and more than that, underdressed.

  They stood or sat on their fine steeds with straight backs and heads held high no matter the fact that it was raining, their freshly polished silver chain shining brightly even in the never ending rain, their robes neat and even their long straight hair held back in proper knots, as if they were in a ballroom, while he looked like little more than a beggar at the table. Yet he had to wonder if that was a good thing in a group of soldiers. Maybe on the parade ground, but out in the wilds with enemies all about, surely neatness should have come second to preparedness.

  Still they were a capable group. Everyone knew of the elves ability with their longbows, and many also of their skill with the rapier as well, and all of the fifty or so rangers were armed with both. But more than that they had their animal companions as well, too many of them savage predators, and magic. There was little doubt that they could handle themselves should the occasion arise. Sadly he suspected many of them saw him as an occasion.

  “And of this human, should we bring him too?” One thing about the captain, he didn’t like Marjan and he wasn’t shy about letting it be known, but that was almost what he’d expected from all elves from before having met Essaline and her children and it actually only served to make his world seem right once more. Besides he suspected that the captain wasn’t reacting so much to his human nature or even his magic, but rather to his weapons, which he carried openly. They weren’t just unelven weapons, they were intimidating, or at least the double-headed axe slung to his back was. No elf would worry about a longbow no matter how well spelled. Besides as they could clearly see, he had no arrows left. If he had seen it in action however, the captain would possibly have been more concerned. But the axe, it was a barbarian weapon, and when its owner dressed as one, they didn’t like it.

  Of course it really could have been his manner of dress and deportment that bothered him as well. His leathers were half chewed up by the goat, covered in mud and grime, ripped and torn in places, and had seen better days. His hair was also hanging unkempt, greasy and knotted all the way down to his waist, he’d lost his comb long ago, and he hadn’t bathed for a day or four, just let the rain soak him from time to time. The smell was starting to bother even him. Surely he was in no state to greet an important elf like the captain.

  His companion seemed to think so too, and the large timber wolf that stayed constantly at his side and kept snarling quietly at him, caused Marjan more than a little anxiety. He could kill the creature if the need arose, but he was almost certain that she was a companion and not a mere pet, and that would be a dire crime indeed.

  Rangers were well known for having companions, just as many wizards had familiars, and among the fifty or so rangers in the troop, he could see a wide assortment of creatures. Everything from foxes and stoats, to hawks and winged lizards, most of them staring at him suspiciously. Though he knew little about them, he remembered long ago being told that a companion was not a pet and not a work animal either, it was family to a ranger, and an attack on one was an attack upon them both.

  “Captain Saul this is Marjan of the Allyssian Forest. One time guild wizard and now a Mage of the Wilds. He has placed us under his protection until we reach Calibra and I have gratefully accepted his protection, and so we shall travel as one.” Essaline had raised her self up to her full height as she spoke, stared him directly in the eyes, and it seemed to work as the captain visibly backed down, which left Marjan with more than a few questions. What status did she have among her people that she could so cower a ranger captain? Not to mention how did she manage to look so formal and proper when her own robes were soiled and torn from the weeks on the trail? And what was a Mage of the Wilds anyway?

  Whatever the facts of the matter it seemed to be enough that the captain grew silent, though he still looked at him unconvinced, staring at his longbow and double axe, and occasionally when he had the time, the ground under their feet, which was now a gigantic muddy burial ground. He had the right to be suspicious.

  Beside him his second Harvas the druid stared at him in a similar fashion, but not so worried about his weapons or his appearance as his magic. He knew what had transpired, even without looking at the tops of tall trees just emerging from out of the mud, he could feel it, just as Marjan could feel his magic in turn. Harvas had a different magic to his, much more animalistic and of the natural world, but for all that he was strong. Possibly even stronger than him. That made Marjan nervous, as did the winged draglet curled up around his shoulders, the creatures were able to spit a nasty venom at anyone they didn’t like and he was already certain that the beast didn’t like him. None of the beasts liked him. But it was the knowledge the druid had that really troubled him. He looked forty, but as an elf he could easily have been a hundred and forty, and the understanding that lay behind his magic was so complex and detailed that it suggested the latter.

  “My Lady, he was once of the Guilds but no longer? Surely that makes him a renegade. He may not enter Calibra.” The elven druid took it upon himself to speak when his captain had been so visibly cowed, and his companion hissed in support of his words, but perhaps they shouldn’t have as Essaline turned her attention to them and the druid too seemed to shrink in his saddle.

  “He is no renegade and you will not speak of him as such again.” She glared at the poor druid and suddenly he looked no happier than the captain. A druid, powerful, knowledgeable and surely an important person among the elves, and he too cowered before Ess
aline. Was she merely a priestess and teacher he wondered, or something more. Surely she was too young to be an elder and the elves had no such thing as royalty, but still she had to be more than he yet knew.

  “Essaline he is right. I am -.” Marjan had been about to say that the druid had the right of it when the but end of a piece of wood came out of nowhere and clobbered him on the jaw, knocking him to the ground, leaving him stunned and wondering what had happened and who had hit him. Wondering also if he had lost some teeth when he realised he could taste blood.

  “Do not speak to Lady Essaline in such familiar terms again human!” The Captain was suddenly standing over him with the spear in his hand, the point an inch from his throat while his wolf’s teeth were snapping at him in warning, and at least one of Marjan’s questions had been answered, as he knew who’d hit him. The captain he noticed looked angry, more than angry as his eyes bulged and jaw clenched with fury, and his fingers were white on the spear handle. The children believed he was going to run him through and he heard several of them calling out, crying, and being kept back by their teachers who perhaps understood a little more of what was happening. They did not interfere he noticed, and he could only hope it was because they knew that he would be all right.

  “This is the Lady Essaline and not one of your human trollops. Remember that always or the next time you will not be admonished so gently.” Marjan believed the captain completely, he believed the intensity in his eyes, and the whiteness of his knuckles as they gripped the weapon, yet still he wondered why the captain should be so angry with him. Who was Essaline that she should command such respect that he could not even address her by name? Or was it fear that fuelled the captain’s behaviour? He could sense something of that underneath his rigid, disciplined anger. Regardless, his actions still gave him a solution to his problem.

  “Good captain, you are right and I apologise unreservedly to you Lady Essaline for my boorish tongue. I have lived alone for far too many years and my manners are not what they should be.” He rubbed at his jaw idly thinking how easy it would be to set the captain’s spear alight and teach him a lesson he’d not soon forget. But with fifty rangers standing with him, all armed with longbows that they could draw and use in less than a heartbeat, perhaps not. Besides, he needed them to escort the children and their teachers to safety.

  “I also know nothing of elven society and custom, and would surely make many more such foolish mistakes. Surely it is better that you and the children now go with the good captain and his rangers into Calibra, after all the border is only a couple of days ride and you will be safe with them.” Finally he’d said something that the captain liked and he was rewarded by watching the tip of the spear move a few more inches away from his throat and into a somewhat less threatening position. But his piercing green eyes still studied him intently, suspiciously, looking for the trap in his words though there was none.

  Unfortunately he had reckoned without Essaline. They both had.

  “You promised to escort us all the way personally Mage Marjan of the Allyssian Forest, and I am under no such illusion that we will be safe without your protection. That the enemy has struck at us so near to the borders of our homeland is a grave concern as is the fact that they were not supposed to have made it this far south according to your guild wizards, and the elders of Evensong will be concerned to hear of it. They will surely want to hear it from you and also of the Guild and their plans, which you can show them as you use your crystal device.”

  “Good mage, I will hold you to your promise at the least to bring us to the border of Calibra and beseech you for the rest. No one will harm you, no one will speak against you even, and if after speaking with the village elders you still choose to move on, you may do so in peace.”

  She smiled sweetly and Marjan knew his goose was cooked. He couldn’t refuse her, certainly not the first part which he had already sworn to, and no doubt if he declined to carry on further into Calibra once they’d reached the border he would look churlish and uncaring. Yet if he was unhappy it didn’t appear that the captain or his rangers were any less so, in fact they looked distinctly uneasy, as if she’d invited a wild beast to the dinner table. Still they knew they had no choice, they just hid their feelings a little better.

  “Very well good Lady, I will do as you ask.” He bowed to her, as best he could while still sitting on the ground, covered in mud and nursing his jaw. There was no doubt it was going to be bruised in the morning. Somehow he suspected that the captain might have a somewhat different definition of gentle admonition to him.

  Maybe he’d summon a few small burrs for his boots when Harvas wasn’t paying attention, and a few more for his bedroll as well for good measure. A favour for a favour. Not that he’d mention it.

  ****************

  Chapter Six.

  Evensong when he first laid eyes upon it was a picture of tranquillity and beauty, an artwork that only a true artist might paint, and even just seeing it was a blessing for Marjan. In many ways it reminded him of his former home, a place of tranquillity and peace where a man could find refuge, but more than that Evensong was a place where nature ruled and men or rather elves fitted themselves around its rules. There was no conflict between them, and he welcomed that.

  Marjan knew that the town was touched by the Goddess from the instant he saw the giant glade which was the heart and soul of the village. Even a relatively poor wizard of life like himself could feel the life and the soul of the world as it shone from every tree and every blade of grass and it almost overwhelmed him, much as his own home in the Great Allyssian Forest had the first time he had been there.

  In his lessons he had been taught long ago that there were places in the world where it seemed that somehow the wellspring of life itself touched the world. Long ago he had realised his home in the Allyssian forests was one, as was the ancient altar only a few leagues south of it where he and the others had spent their first lunch on the road together. These were places where a wizard of life, even a poor one like himself, could find renewal and a font of living energy to fill them. Evensong was the same, except that here that wellspring was full of people, busy and hectic, joyous and purposeful. But still pure.

  The elves knew it too, and he watched, unsurprised when each and every one of them, tough and battle hardened soldiers all, broke into a smile from the instant they emerged from the forest into the open glade. It was more than just the relief of another mission being completed, they were home. Their celebration though, quickly went beyond a few smiles, as they started slapping one another on the back and laughing, with several even bursting into song, and a few weeping openly, and that last did surprise him.

  Perhaps he should have expected it from the women, and it had surprised him to discover that half of the rangers were women, but the men were no more disciplined. They just hid their true feelings better as they engaged in a round of back slapping, joke telling and raucous laughter, surprisingly similar to that of human soldiers. After seven long days on the trail, suffering through endless lectures on elven discipline and formality, trying to remember his words day and night, suddenly they became crude and unrestrained? It seemed wrong to him. It seemed unfair too.

  Still it wasn’t important to him right then, there were other things to worry about, and while they laughed and sang and told coarse jokes, and the column slowly made its way across the glade to the village itself, Marjan spent his time studying what lay in front of them, both curious and nervous.

  He’d never been to an elven village before, knew much less of their people than he would have liked, but he had seen sketches of several of their villages, and so he was almost prepared for what he saw. Almost. It was a village in the trees as he’d expected, with the towering trees supporting endless platforms while walkways hung between them, and yet that came nowhere near to describing it.

  The trees which supported the town were wonders of living magic, cedars, redwoods, pines and oaks towering hundreds of feet into the
air, and filled with the life that their roots found deep in the earth. They were giants even among their own kind, and more than that, healthy beyond knowing. Just setting his eyes on them filled Marjan with joy.

  Meanwhile the town the elves had built among them, was far grander than he would have thought possible. Many of the platforms were vast circular affairs wrapped around the trunks of the trees, while some of them formed giant courtyards as they spanned the spaces between them, and some trees, the tallest of the great redwoods and cedars, had three or four platforms on them, each one like a layer on a cake suspended above the one’s beneath it, all held together by a strange spider web of ropes. Then the walkways, really wooden streets held aloft by more ropes, spanned the distances between them, some rising, some falling and some level, connecting all the platforms into one entire village, a village that stretched along the edge of the forest surrounding the glade for the best part of half a league, and that was only the part which he could see. He had no idea how much further back into the heart of the forest the town extended.