Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  Simon had a mental picture of a group of stodgy old elves sitting around a scrying pool and muttering about the goings-on in the world. He almost laughed.

  “That may actually be the case,” he told the elementals. “But whatever. If Heather has information about the primal green dragon, I definitely have to talk to her.”

  Aeris looked dubious.

  “How do they even know that you are interested in hunting down the leader of the greens? The wards around the tower block all spells, including the elves', I assume.”

  Simon folded the parchment, left it on the desk and went to stare out of the window.

  “Master must have mentioned it to the lady cleric,” Kronk said to Aeris. “They are not blocked from scrying there until we install wards on the main hall.”

  The wizard folded his arms and leaned against the windowsill, watching as the wind rippled the long grass in the field in front of the gates. The world felt so alive and hopeful now that summer was approaching and he could almost picture himself vanquishing even another primal dragon.

  “Kronk's probably right,” he said over his shoulder. “I haven't hidden my plans from Clara, but until I put those wards around the hall, and remind me to do that soon, I had better start watching what I say outside of the tower.”

  “So what are you going to do? See the herb witch?” Aeris asked as he floated to the window to join Simon.

  With a glance at the sky, Simon nodded once.

  “I may as well. It's only a short ride away and Chief could use some exercise. I don't want him getting fat on me.”

  “He will never get fat, master,” Kronk stated indignantly. “I alter his diet and let him run to make sure of that.”

  Simon looked at the little guy and chuckled.

  “I was kidding, my friend. But he does like to get out once in a while, so this is as good a time as any.”

  He turned and went into his bedroom to change into a more formal outfit. He'd been wearing shorts around to let his sunburned shoulders heal, but somehow Simon doubted that Heather would appreciate staring at his knobby knees and counting his ribs.

  Aeris and Kronk followed him and, as the wizard opened his wardrobe and tried to decide what to wear, they moved to stand on the bed.

  “So we are leaving right away?” Aeris asked.

  Simon took out the blue robe that Clara had given him. It was the nicest he had and looked proper enough for a visit to a witch. He hoped.

  As he got dressed, he looked at the elementals.

  “Not we. Me. There's no reason for the three of us to go. You two should stay and keep watch on the place. It will only take me about a half-hour to get to Heather's place. Maybe an hour to talk to her, if she even wants to talk, and then a half-hour back. Not exactly a long or dangerous trip.”

  Kronk was shaking his head.

  “I don't like it, master. Yes, the note may have come from the elvish elders, as I said, but what if it didn't? It's dangerous outside of these walls.”

  Simon smoothed the front of his robe and cinched his belt around his waist, settling his dagger comfortably at his side.

  “Kronk, I'm a fully capable wizard now, am I not? Good. Then I should be able to take care of myself when I go to visit a neighbor.” He looked at Aeris. “You've done a sweep in the forest around the tower lately?”

  “Yesterday. There were no signs of any hostile creatures or suspicious activity.”

  “There you go. It's a bright and beautiful day, the neighborhood is clear of danger and I'm not going far. Now, stop worrying, Kronk. It'll give you wrinkles.”

  At Kronk's perplexed expression, Simon laughed and slipped on his shoes.

  “I'll meet you downstairs in a minute,” he told Aeris. “I just want a quick word with our worried little friend here,” and he nodded at Kronk as he spoke.

  Aeris sighed dramatically and swept out of the room.

  “Yes, master? What is it?”

  “Just one thing, my friend. A little insurance policy, let's call it, to ease your suspicious mind.”

  The wizard's ride through the forest to Heather's home was uneventful. The day was amazingly clear and invigorating and Chief was bouncing at each step, obviously happy to be out and moving again.

  There was no real path to the witch's house. Simon hadn't spoken to her personally in over a year. Normally Aeris dropped by every other month during growing season to trade produce for any herbs or spices she wanted to spare. It was an effective arrangement, especially since Heather had made it clear that she was not the social type and had no need for company.

  When he finally reached his destination, Simon gaped at the wall of spiked foliage that blocked his view of the witch's house. He'd forgotten that Heather had encouraged these plants to grow as a way to protect herself, and her privacy, from intruders. Aeris had told him about it but he had never seen it before.

  The winding, intertwined bushes looked like grotesquely large rose bushes, without the flowers. The spines and sharp edges that grew from every branch appeared keen enough to rip the flesh from anyone foolish enough to attempt to force their way through.

  So how the heck do I even reach Heather's house, Simon wondered as he slowly dismounted and looked up at the barrier. It was at least a dozen feet high and he couldn't even guess how thick it was.

  He reached up absently and stroked Chief's neck as he tried to decide what to do. The stallion looked around calmly and then jerked his head up and backed away several feet,

  Right in front of him, Simon watched with astonishment as the vines began to untangle and pull back, as if some large invisible hand was untying knots of rope, The plants snapped and rustled, seemingly reluctant to release their hold on each other.

  But at last, a narrow path was revealed, just wide enough for the wizard to squeeze through.

  “Well, I guess you have to stay here, big guy,” he said regretfully to Chief.

  The horse snorted and shook his horns angrily. Clearly he didn't want to leave the wizard's side.

  “Sorry, but there's no way you'll be able to get through there without losing some skin, or worse.”

  He patted the stallion once more and turned away to face the open barrier. He took a deep breath, settled Bene-Dunn-Gal on his back so that it hung vertically, hoping it wouldn't get caught in the tangle of plants, and walked forward carefully.

  The barrier towered over him as he slowly walked down the path, and the plants seemed to go on forever. It became as dark as evening in the shadows of the barricade and Simon shivered with trepidation.

  If Heather decided to eliminate a pesky intruder, all she would have to do was to command her thorned guardians to slam shut and he would be pierced in a hundred places and left to rot in the heart of the barrier. It was a chilling thought.

  But at last he saw a sliver of daylight and Simon moved forward eagerly, but not too quickly, still mindful of the sharp spikes just barely out of reach.

  He emerged to stand in a clearing. Perhaps fifty feet ahead, in the middle of the round barrier that circled the clearing, was a small house.

  Simon thought that Heather's cottage looked very much like it did the last time he'd seen it. Built of dark wood and covered with ivy, it looked homey and comfortable. A wisp of smoke rose from its chimney into the still, warm air.

  The clearing was cultivated and row upon row of herbs had been planted in ordered lines, twining up sticks to reach toward the sun. The air smelled fresh and rich with green spicy scents that the wizard found invigorating. He smiled in spite of himself, the frightening ordeal of crossing the barrier already forgotten.

  A rustling sound from behind him made him spin around and Simon watched as the path through the thorny barricade disappeared.

  Well, I'm not going anywhere now, he thought. The idea was a little unsettling and his good mood became tempered with caution.

  There was no movement from the cottage as Simon approached, except for the spiraling ribbon of smoke from the chimney. When
he got to within ten feet of the front door, he stopped.

  “Heather? Are you there?“ he called out. “It's me, Simon, your neighbor.”

  His only answer was silence and Simon stared at the closed door, puzzled.

  She obviously knows that I'm here, he thought as he listened closely for any sound of a reply. What's she waiting for?

  The wizard spun in a slow circle, looking for any sign of the witch.

  Maybe she's out here working with her herbs?

  But there was no movement. In fact, the air was unnaturally still. Even the songs of the birds from the forest was muted.

  Probably just the thick barrier, absorbing the wind and noise, Simon thought uneasily.

  Nevertheless, he slipped Bene-Dunn-Gal off of his back and planted it butt-end on the ground. Some part of him was screaming a warning, but it too was distant and hazy.

  Simon felt weak, light-headed. The green smell was overwhelming his senses and he stared stupidly at the quiet cottage, trying to figure out what was wrong.

  As he began to collapse, he had time for one last thought.

  You fool, you've been tricked.

  And the world went dark.

  Chapter 24

  Consciousness was slow to return. Simon swam out of a vast pit of darkness, his mind feeling like it was trapped in honey.

  He was aware of sounds first. Mutters and squeaks, a rumble that made his head pound, a hissing that spoke of snakes and slime.

  He started to feel his extremities. Pins and needles made his hands and feet itch and, when he finally could lift his heavy head and open his eyes, his lids felt sticky and almost glued shut.

  He was sitting in a wooden chair, his arms secured painfully behind him and his legs tied tightly to the chair's legs. Simon shook his head to clear it and instantly regretted his decision. A lance of pain stabbed into him behind his forehead and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.

  As his vision cleared, the first thing the wizard noticed was that he was only wearing his shorts. His robe, shoes and socks and necklace had been stripped from him and, in the semi-darkness of wherever he was, his skinny pale body almost shone in contrast. The sounds that he'd heard as he was waking up had faded away and the air was still and quiet.

  “So, you're awake, finally,” a voice said. It was a woman's voice and it sounded irritable.

  Simon turned his head toward the sound and found himself staring at a robed and hooded figure standing in the shadows of the room. He assumed that he was in Heather's cottage but he could see very little detail.

  Shelves lined the walls, filled with flower pots, watering cans and canvas bags. The air smelled earthy and a bit sour, as if meat had been left to rot just out of sight. A few sticks of furniture were scattered about, made of simple wooden planks.

  He watched the woman silently, trying to gather his senses and figure out what had happened.

  He'd been knocked out, obviously. He recalled a sweet smell just before he'd lost consciousness and guessed that Heather had used some sort of gas on him. The question was, why?

  As he continued to watch her, not yet ready to try to speak, Simon tested his bonds carefully, trying not to draw attention to what he was doing. But it was no use. He was totally immobile, only able to move his head.

  The woman stepped forward and made a small gesture with her hand. A light, green and sickly, the color of slime, suddenly lit the room.

  “I'm rather disappointed,” she said from within her hood. “The great wizard, Simon O'Toole, caught so easily. Did you really think that the elves would send you to me by leaving you a note? Why wouldn't they speak to you directly?” She shook her head. “Stupid. Perhaps you really are as young and innocent as you appear,” she mused. “Or perhaps you are just dumb. How you ever defeated the great black dragon is a mystery.”

  Simon stayed silent and watched her, still feeling foggy and confused.

  She raised her hands and lifted the hood off of her head, letting it slip back to her shoulders. The wizard was looking at a pale face surrounded by a mane of dark hair streaked with white. One eye was blue, like chips of ice. The other was urine yellow. As he looked into them, the woman smiled at him cruelly.

  “You!” he hissed through clenched teeth. He glared at her, pain and confusion forgotten.

  “Ah, so you have regained your faculties. Excellent. You've slept for several hours, little wizard. Apparently my dose of pollen was a bit too potent.”

  Simon's eyes narrowed.

  “Pollen? You knocked me out with pollen?”

  “Of course. I was an herb witch before I was given a wizard's gifts.”

  His rage turned to shock as Simon gaped at her.

  “Heather?” he muttered in disbelief.

  The woman threw back her head and laughed heartily.

  “Yes, Simon O'Toole. Heather. Or rather, the former Heather. But that weak, mousy little witch is gone. In her place stands a treasured servant of the gods of Chaos.” She gave him an ironic bow. “Pleased to meet you.”

  The wizard could hardly wrap his mind around the witch's transformation.

  “How is this even possible? You look nothing like your old self.”

  “The body was altered to better conduct magic, much like your own. That is why we bear more than a passing similarity to each other. Apparently this,” she glanced down at herself, “is the right kind of vessel for divine power. Besides, it's more attractive than the old me. I like it.”

  Still trying to come to terms with this information, Simon glared at the woman again.

  “Why are you doing this? And why have you been killing Changlings? You are one yourself!”

  Heather made a casual gesture and a chair slid across the room. She sat down in front of the wizard and tented her fingers together as she watched him.

  “Killing Changlings?” she repeated with some surprise. “Don't be absurd. I haven't been killing Changlings. Mutating some, yes, for my own purposes. They are better off if you ask me. But killing them? Never.”

  “Don't bother lying to me,” Simon said in disgust. “I've watched you murder dozens of innocents, burn down their homes, ravage the land. I'm your prisoner. At least have the backbone to be honest with me.”

  “Yes, I knew that you were spying on me,” she told him with a superior smile. “Considering that you became a wizard sooner than I, it was surprising that you were so clumsy.”

  She sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, as if he was some sort of fascinating new type of insect.

  “But you did not see what you thought you saw. Everyone that I...eliminated was simply human, mundane and useless. They were remnants from the old world, not Changlings.”

  Simon was still trying to loosen his hands as he spoke, but except for restoring some circulation and feeling in them, it was useless.

  “That isn't possible,” he said. “There aren't that many mundanes left in the world.”

  “There shouldn't be that many left, you mean,” Heather replied, her voice becoming cold and flinty. “But thanks to your interference when you killed the primal black dragon, humanity's destruction is behind schedule. The Chaos Lords are furious with you, little wizard. You are making them wait far longer to return to this world than they expected to.”

  The former witch looked at him with something like admiration.

  “I have to admit, for a single person to invoke their wrath as much as you have done is quite impressive. We are little more than fleas to them and yet you have caught their attention. Well done.”

  “Have I? Good. And I'm just getting started.”

  Heather guffawed again and shook her head.

  “Ah, Simon, Simon. There speaks the eternal hope of the brave, or the foolish. I'm afraid that your magical career is finished.”

  She stood up and walked across the room to a table covered with heaps of odd objects and unidentifiable junk and picked something up, something wrapped in thick cloth.

  When she tur
ned back, Simon's eyes widened. By its length, he knew it had to be Bene-Dunn-Gal.

  “Where did you get this relic?” she asked him as she sat down again, the staff across her knees. Simon noticed that she was careful not to actually touch it directly.

  “It is ancient and powerful. I should very much like to discover its secrets.”

  “Yes, I'll bet you would,” he told her. “Why don't you unwrap it and examine it closely. That would be the best way to learn more about it.”

  Heather's eyes narrowed.

  “Don't take me for a fool, little wizard. This thing radiates power. It is attuned only to you, I suspect. Ah well. Once you are gone, it will be freed of your taint and perhaps I will find a way to make it serve me. No matter.”

  She put the wrapped staff down beside her and pulled something out of a pocket of her robes.

  “This, I think, is a little more important to us now, anyway.”

  Simon squinted at the small piece of metal she was holding up. The green light in the room was not very bright and it took him a moment to identify the object. When he did, he sagged in his chair with a groan.

  The witch cackled at his reaction and grinned widely.

  “Ah, you recognize it, don't you? Yes, it's your belt buckle.” She looked down at the piece of rectangular brass and ran a finger along the back of it. “And what's this? Could it be...your true name? Why, it is! My, my, how foolish. What a place to inscribe something so important.”

  Her laughter rang out, her glee so wicked that Simon was almost sickened by it.

  When she had control of herself again, Heather leaned forward and shook the buckle at him.

  “I have you now, Simon. Or should I call you by your true name, hmm?”

  “I'd rather you didn't,” he said tersely.

  “Yes, I'm sure. No matter. I have you now. Your power is mine, little wizard. I have your necklace as well, with its piece of dragon heart. Oh yes, I know about that. As for that other trinket that you had on that string, that odd piece of metal, what is it? A magical talisman? A ward of some sort?”