by A. Giannetti
He padded across the courtyard and watched with regret from the gate as the atrior ran toward the crest of the saddle high above the fortress, overtaking and passing the surviving wolves, which were running in the same direction. Elerian was not too concerned about the wolves that had escaped him, but the atrior worried him. If it returned home with an empty saddle, there was sure to be a search that might lead the Goblins back to the fortress.
He turned away from the mountainside, and suddenly stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed by an unexpected urge to hunt beneath the light of the stars. Too late, Elerian realized that, in his haste to change, he had failed to protect himself properly. The cat mind that shared his body was now trying to take control. He remained motionless before the gate, oblivious to his surroundings, as a silent, bitter struggle took place in its mind. It was a fight that Elerian slowly won, for his strength had grown greatly since the time he was a young apprentice attempting his first shape change. After reasserting his control over the cat mind that shared his body, he wearily transformed himself back to his own shape.
Anxiously, he returned to Ascilius’s side. The Dwarf was just where Elerian had left him, on the landing at the top of the stairs. His ax was still clenched in his right hand, and he was breathing slowly and regularly, but he was as stiff and hard as stone. Try as he might, Elerian found that he could not free Ascilius from the spell that held him immobile. There were unfamiliar twists and turns to the Goblin’s spell that he could not readily follow. Finally, he gave up, for there were other things that needed to be attended to. After retrieving his knife from where he had dropped it on the balcony, Elerian decided to first dispose of the dead bodies lying in the hall. After a little exploration, he found that there was a lower level to the fortress, reached by a set of dark, winding stairs.
When he lit a mage light at the bottom of the stairs, Elerian found himself in a large chamber resembling a large cellar. The place reeked of decay, and there were bones aplenty scattered across the floor. Several dark doorways led from the chamber.
“What sort of creature makes its home here,” wondered Elerian uneasily to himself. Keeping a wary eye on the tunnel entrances, he carried the bodies of the Uruc, the lupin, and the wolves down to the chamber before retreating hastily to the upper levels.
“With any luck, whatever is living down there will dispose of the bodies, leaving no evidence behind for the Goblins, if they show up here searching for the Uruc,” he thought to himself as he returned to the landing. He made several more unsuccessful attempts to free Ascilius, but his counter spells still had no effect. He began to despair that he would ever manage to free the Dwarf from the Uruc’s spell.
“What am I to do now?” wondered Elerian to himself. “We cannot stay here. If Uruc’s atrior returns to its stable alone, a search is sure to be made. If the beast is clever enough, it may even lead the Goblins here. I need to get Ascilius as far from here as possible, but how am I to manage him in the state he is in.”
AN AWKWARD BURDEN
The thought of leaving Ascilius never entered Elerian’s mind. “I will have to carry him since I cannot free him from the spell which has him in its grip,” he finally decided.
Wrapping his arms around Ascilius’s waist, Elerian picked him up. He found the Dwarf’s weight manageable, but there was no easy way to carry him in his present condition, for he was as stiff and unmanageable as a statue. Finally, Elerian loaded the Dwarf onto his back, holding him upside down by his ankles, which made convenient handles. Even in this position, Ascilius was an awkward burden, and Elerian bumped the Dwarf’s head on the stairs several times before he got him down to the courtyard. Bent over almost double in order to balance the heavy Dwarf on his back, Elerian picked his way across the courtyard and then toiled down the steep path that led down the side of the ridge on which the fortress was located. By the time he reached the bottom, his back ached from bending over under his unwieldy, heavy burden, but he continued stubbornly on down the side of the mountain until he reached the tree line. There, he paused for a moment under the branches of a large hawthorn. When he looked back up at the fortress, he was alarmed by the sight of three large black owls circling above the ruin.
“Surely those birds are Goblin spies searching for the Uruc,” thought Elerian to himself. “It is fortunate that I did not stop to rest out in the open.”
He watched the birds swoop into the fortress and disappear. Dropping Ascilius onto the ground, Elerian threw himself down flat next to the Dwarf. Lifting his head, he saw the owls rise into the air again. Tensely, he watched as they flew silently down to the tree line, passing right over his hiding place. For long moments after the owls had disappeared, Elerian remained hidden under the leafy cover of the hawthorn, hardly able to believe that the birds had not discovered him and Ascilius. When he was sure that it was safe to move again, he resumed his burden and struggled on, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the fortress. There were no paths, and for the rest of the night, he stubbornly struggled to pull Ascilius’s stiff form through thorn thickets and down steep slopes. The sun was rising over the eastern horizon before he reached the valley floor, where oaks and chestnuts appeared, dark and twisted but still infinitely better than the thorn trees of the upper slopes. With the night fading, Elerian brought back his ring and cast its invisibility spell over Ascilius and himself. He made better time now, for the underbrush was less here under the taller trees.
On a small rise, he unexpectedly came upon a thicket of yew, a remnant perhaps from the days when the countryside was inhabited by men. Some of the trees were two feet thick, their trunks covered with scaly brown bark instead of the black bark Elerian had grown used to in this land. Exhausted from the effort of carrying Ascilius, Elerian decided to hide in the thicket and rest for a while. After dragging Ascilius into the center of the grove, he sent his ring away, ending its spell. After standing the now visible Dwarf up against a tree trunk, Elerian cast himself down on the needle-covered ground at Ascilius’s feet. Supporting his chin on his right hand and elbow, he examined Ascilius with a critical eye. The Dwarf had not moved at all, and looked much the worse for wear. He was covered with scratches and smudged all over with dirt. Leaves and broken twigs littered his long hair and beard. Elerian, of course, was not much better off. He was just as scratched and dirty as Ascilius, as well as being tired, thirsty, and hungry.
“Can he still think and feel,” wondered Elerian to himself as he stared up at Ascilius. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he could not resist the opportunity presented by the Dwarf’s unfortunate state. Sitting up and keeping his head lowered so that Ascilius could not see his eyes, Elerian began to speak, as if talking to himself.
“I do not know what I am to do with you, Ascilius,” he said, putting a note of sadness in his voice “If I cannot unravel the spell that put you in this state, you may remain frozen for the rest of your life. I suppose I could hang a lantern from your ax and use you for a lamp if we ever return to lands that are safe,” he said in tones as serious as he could make them. Without raising his head, he gave Ascilius’s face a sidelong look out of the corner of his right eye. Was it his imagination or did the Dwarf’s dark eyes now hold a wrathful look. Elerian’s baiting of Ascilius was interrupted by the sudden thunder of wings overhead. Startled, Elerian looked up and saw a flash of black through the flat green needles of the yews.
“Surely those were grouse,” he thought hungrily to himself as he rose silently to his feet. Severing a low growing branch from a nearby tree with a parting spell, Elerian used his shape-changing spell and his long, clever fingers to quickly fashion a short bow from the light colored wood. With his knife, he cut off a length of his hair and transformed it into a thin, tough bowstring. From several smaller branches, he fashioned six sharp tipped arrows.
“They will not fly as straight as they would if they had feathers, but they will do,” thought Elerian to himself with satisfaction. After stringing his bow, he set of
f to find the grouse that had flown over his head. The yew thicket was not large. Moving stealthily from tree to tree, he shot four grouse that he found perched in the green branches of the evergreens. The birds were a dull black instead of the usual gray, but Elerian was sure they were edible.
The last bird fell by a small spring that trickled out of the ground between two large yews, forming a small clear pool before disappearing into the blanket of fallen needles that covered the ground. Cupping his hands, Elerian eagerly drank his fill of the cold water, easing his parched throat before he returned with his four birds to where he had left Ascilius.
After he cleaned the birds, Elerian gathered the driest wood he could find and piled it in a small hole he dug in the ground beneath one of the trees. With his knife blade and a piece of flint he had discovered on the mountainside below the castle, he started a small, almost smokeless fire. The few wisps of pale smoke that did rise from the flames were lost in the thick lattice of branches and needles overhead. The sun was high in the sky by now and voracious swarms of biting insects came swarming out of their resting places. Despite feeling a bit over extended, Elerian placed a shield spell over Ascilius and himself to keep the biting horde away.
When the fire had burned down to a bed of coals, Elerian began roasting the grouse over it. From time to time, as he turned the green sticks on which he had spitted the birds, he threw thoughtful glances at Ascilius. His penchant for humor, suppressed for so many years in the mines, was beginning to reassert itself and demanded an outlet. Finally, with a glint of mischief in his eyes, Elerian positioned Ascilius where he could get a clearer view of the entire cooking process, just in case he could still see what went on around him. Soon, the mouthwatering smell of roasting meat rose into the air, causing Elerian to wonder if Ascilius’s nose was still in working order. On the chance that it was, he moved the Dwarf a little closer to the fire, where he could get the full benefit of the aroma of roasting meat. Elerian thought Ascilius was starting to look more desperate than angry at this point, but that was probably just his imagination at work.
He ate two of the birds in full view of the Dwarf, then washed them down with more water from the spring, feeling refreshed now that his hunger and thirst were gone. The other two birds, he put aside. He noticed, then, that it was becoming overcast and that the air had taken on a damp smell.
“Rain would be a blessing if it falls soon,” he thought to himself. “It will wash out my scent trail and throw off any pursuit.”
After smothering the fire with dirt, Elerian decided to try once more to free Ascilius from the spell that kept him immobile. To his surprise, he found that Lurco’s spell, which had baffled him earlier, gave way to his first counter spell. Ascilius suddenly blinked his eyes and tried to move his arms and legs, before collapsing onto the ground. Elerian immediately bent over to help, but Ascilius was already struggling into a sitting position.
“Are you all right Ascilius?” asked Elerian anxiously.
“All right,” shouted Ascilius furiously. “You have the nerve to ask me if I am all right after dragging me like a piece of furniture through half the thorn thickets in this forsaken land. And then, as if that was not bad enough, you tortured me with those partridges. I could smell them,” he said furiously, “and I saw you eating them! That was worse torture than even the Goblins thought to put me through.”
“I did not realize you were aware of what was going on,” said Elerian innocently, but he was careful not to meet Ascilius’s flashing eyes, for his own gray eyes were alight with laughter. “I do not understand how you can think ill of me after I saved you from that Uruc and then carried you all this way. Believe me it was no easy task,” said Elerian in an aggrieved voice.
Ascilius now felt ungrateful, for Elerian could have abandoned him in the castle instead of risking his life to save him. He certainly had a right to expect some gratitude, but Ascilius still had a strong suspicion that, even now, Elerian was laughing at him, for every now and then, a peculiar tremor passed over his shoulders.
“Well, what else can you expect when you take up company with an Elf,” he thought to himself resignedly.
“You have indeed saved me and I am grateful for that,” said Ascilius in a calmer voice. “I am sure, however, that you have also made sport of me. No Dwarf was ever a match for an Elf’s mad wit, but I warn you, I will have my opportunity for revenge some day.” His hard words were belied by a sudden gleam of humor in his eye. Somehow, Ascilius found that he could never manage to remain angry with Elerian for long.
To make amends, Elerian presented Ascilius with the two partridges that he had saved. The famished Dwarf quickly reduced them to a pile of clean picked bones. Elerian then led Ascilius over to the nearby spring, and they both drank their fill before returning to the site of the fire. The first drops of rain began to fall. As the downpour grew heavier, rivulets of water ran over their bodies but never wet their skin because of the shield spell Elerian had cast. Elerian found it an odd sensation, much like wearing an invisible cloak.
“We should travel on, while the rain lasts,” said Elerian.
“In a moment,” said Ascilius. “Let me rest a little from the battering you have given me. I am sure to be black and blue all over for days.” The Dwarf sat down with his back against a yew, and Elerian sat down next to him.
“I did try to free you,” said Elerian apologetically after a moment, “but for some reason I could not unravel the spell the Goblin used to bind you.”
“I am not surprised,” said Ascilius. “The magic of each race differs, and you were tired from the battle, I am sure. Besides, Lurco was no ordinary opponent. When I saw him come through the barrier, I thought we were done for. His power is second only to that of Torquatus. Old and evil he was and a torment to me for most of my captivity. My only regret is that you killed him much too quickly.”
“I feel lucky even to have survived the encounter,” said Elerian. “If he had used his full powers from the start, instead of gloating over us, we would both be dead now.”
“Perhaps,” said Ascilius thoughtfully, “although I think you underestimate your own powers.”
Falling into a comfortable silence, Elerian and Ascilius sat side by side. The Dwarf’s eyelids soon drifted down, but Elerian remained awake, watching the rain, his mind wandering through memories of his past that seemed real as waking moments.
Suddenly, Ascilius started awake. Climbing to his feet, he stretched, appearing much refreshed by his nap. “I am ready to go on,” he said to Elerian, who had also stood up.
They set out once more, traveling east. To save his strength, Elerian decided to forgo his invisibility spell, for the steady rain provided plenty of cover. He continued to maintain his shield spell, however, since it would keep him and Ascilius dry as well as repelling the hordes of insects that still swarmed around them, despite the rain. As they walked along, Elerian was pleased to see that between the deep drifts of leaves that covered the ground and the soaking rain, they left almost no sign of their passage.
After walking in silence for a time, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts, Elerian suddenly asked, “Ascilius, did you hear any of what Lurco said to me?”
“I heard it all,” said the Dwarf. “You must take into account, however, that Goblins have no regard for the truth. He clearly wished to make you suffer, and Goblins will lie without hesitation if it will further their own ends.”
“I do not think he was lying,” said Elerian sadly, remembering again the sudden feeling of great loss he had twice suffered while being held captive in Esdras.
Casting a sidelong glance at Elerian, Ascilius took note of the sad, brooding look on his face and spoke up again. “If he did tell the truth, there is nothing more you can do. Lurco is already dead by your hand, and what he did in the past cannot be undone. If your grandfather and his friend truly died trying to keep you alive, as Lurco claimed, then the best way you can honor them is by living your life in a way they would have ap
proved of.”
“That is easier said than done, Ascilius,” said Elerian with a wry smile on his lips. “My grandfather, Balbus, always believed that it would be best if I tried to discover my past. Tullius, the mage I apprenticed with, advised me to abandon my past and remain a Hesperian for the rest of my life. Whose wishes should I follow?”
“You alone can make that decision,” said Ascilius lapsing back into silence. They spent the rest of the day crossing the valley in the midst of a steady downpour. No other words passed between them, for Ascilius lapsed into a dark, taciturn mood. Elerian, on the other hand, felt his sadness diminish as his naturally cheerful nature reasserted itself.
When they reached the river that flowed through the middle of the valley, they were able to wade across a stretch of shallow rapids where the water was only waist deep to Ascilius. Below the rapids was a deep pool whose surface was dimpled by feeding fish, for the overcast skies and plentiful insects had brought them to the surface to feed. While Ascilius watched impatiently, Elerian took two dark trout as long as his arm from the pool with his arrows.
After fording the river, they crossed the rest of the valley without incident, for the rain seemed to have driven every living thing in the forest under cover. When they climbed the densely wooded slopes that rose up on the far side of the valley, they were lucky enough to stumble across a small, shallow cave at the tree line before night came on. The cave was narrow in the beginning, but after it turned a sharp corner to the left, it widened into a larger chamber almost eight feet across. Ascilius could stand in it comfortably, but Elerian was forced to keep his head bent to keep from hitting it on the low ceiling. He ended his shield spell and looked with approval through the narrow entrance at the rain that continued to come down in gray sheets.
“The Goblins will never be able to track us in this rain,” he said cheerfully to Ascilius.
