Chapter Sixteen
Zediah’s appeared out of nowhere, or that was how it seemed to Taylon. Tall trees grew closer, denser as they rode. Open plains succumbed to more trees. Hazel led, and she continued past the house that materialized on the left. The captain actually did a double take, not believing what he saw. He lost focus on his riding for a minute and then panicked, pulling back on the reins. His mount stopped abruptly, giving a disgruntled snort. Hazel circled her horse around.
“Sorry to do that, but I thought it would give you the full effect,” Hazel said as she reached him. Taylon nodded, staring at the house. Tucked back in the trees stood a building in the shape of a mushroom. It had the characteristics of a home: doors, windows, a fire stack, but it was clearly mushroom-shaped. Metal tiles curved along the roof, reflecting the sunlight in different colors. A balcony jutted from the front. A staircase on the outside of the house from a window gave access to this overlook. The base of the mushroom glinted a tarnished orange color with a trim of olive green around the windows. Taylon stared ahead, speechless.
Hazel led her mare to a well, located in the front yard. She dismounted and drew some water for her horse. Taylon, after a moment of blinking and convincing himself what he was seeing was truly there, followed suit. As he too retrieved a drink from a fresh bucket, the front door burst open.
“Praise! And Glory! Earth! And Sky! Welcome, travelers…,” the stranger exclaimed. Taylon choked on his water.
“By the salt almighty! It is?” And the stranger ran forward, a funny little zigzag of a run, toward Hazel. She opened her arms to accept his hug. He picked her up and swung her around.
Still coughing, the captain couldn’t help but stare at the strange sight before him. The man, who he assumed was Zediah, had to be much older than Hazel, but the running and hugging of the old woman suggested he was younger. He dressed in vibrant blue robes decorated with large fish icons crudely sewn into them. They flapped at his sides when he ran. making a wuva-wuva sound. On his head, he wore a pointed cap. It was a plain brown and displayed only a simple circle in front.
Once Zediah put Hazel down, he held her at arms’ length. “Too long, too long, my dear. Many things have spoken about your return. Just today, the trees told me to expect the unexpected.” He made a sweeping motion with his arms, and one wrinkled hand pointed to a pile of leaves. Hazel was all smiles.
Taylon stood back, watching the whole thing and waiting for an opportunity to interject.
“Yes, it has been a long time,” Hazel spoke, nodding to Taylon, but the old man cut her off before introductions could be made.
“Be praised! And wonderful days! From the well of water your horse has had its fill. Be praised!” Zediah turned in a complete circle and a half. He noticed Taylon standing there. “You have brought another believer?” he said over his shoulder to Hazel.
Before the old woman could answer, Zediah came forward to greet Taylon. The captain extended a hand but instead received a hug similar to Hazel’s reception. He felt himself lifted easily off the ground and spun around.
“Greetings and salutations, my faithful brother!” Zediah set him down and broke the hug. Taylon felt awkward, but the old man seemed to notice none of it. The face before him was all smile—a toothless one at that.
Age showed on Zediah’s face—wrinkles and skin spots—but his eyes burned with a youthful fire that Taylon had only seen in his youngest recruits. Zediah patted the captain’s shoulders as if they had been friends forever.
“You…are welcome. Drink from the well of the sun. Refresh in the air and be happy. For it is good! Praise! And Glory!” Again the old man did his circle dance, hands in the air. A smile crept across Taylon’s face as he tried to hide his doubt and uneasiness.
“Yes!” the old man said, seeing the smile. He turned to Hazel and grasped her hand. “He is a faithful follower. Let us rejoice and skip. You are here about the woman, I assume.” And the man was off skipping with Hazel toward the front door. His words about a woman were casual, like a feather floating on the wind.
Euphoria. Taylon gave chase to the couple. He stopped about three steps away, thinking to tie up the horses, but then waved his hand at them when he saw Zediah and Hazel enter the mushroom house. He quickly followed them.
To say the outside of the house looked peculiar was nothing compared to the interior of the mushroom house. Inside the doorway, Taylon stopped, amazed, awed, and dumbfounded.
Trees were the first things he noticed. Dead center, not twelve feet from the front door, were three mature trees growing up from the floor. Trees inside! He had never ever seen anything this crazy before. His eyes traveled upward, where the trunks disappeared into the second floor. A few branches scraped the ceiling. From those branches hung lanterns and sprite lights. During his travels with the Witch Guard, Taylon had come across lanterns that used these small creatures called sprites to illuminate places. They were almost like small cages, the ones he had seen.
Now as he looked at the sprite lights, they appeared very different. For one, there was no lid or glass. All that made up the lantern was a perch, like those in birdhouses he had seen. In a few of the lights, balls of something glowing sat.
“Oh!” Zediah exclaimed by Taylon’s left ear. “My sprite lanterns! Such amazing creatures. They are all my family! You have seen some before?”
The captain jumped when Zediah spoke, but then looked up again at the fixtures. “Umm…yes. They were a bit different than this.”
“Oh…yes. Those horrible, horrible…nasty cages!” The old man pounded a fist into his palm. Taylon looked startled and took a small step away. Zediah recovered quickly and looked up again. “But now these creatures are free. They provide light if they want. Some come…some go…some come again. Praise! And Glory for sprites!” He did his dance and then jetted off. Taylon watched him go, but his eyes looked up again at the dazzling orbs.
He looked away but found something again oddly interesting. On the nearest wall hung an arrangement of sticks. They looked to be small logs of firewood quality. Each notched and fit into each other as if one were building a cottage that lay flat. These spread over the entire wall in some sort of pattern the captain could not make any sense of. On closer inspection, each log had something carved into it, writing of some sort.
He took his finger and traced over the markings of the nearest piece of wood. When he got to the end of it, a stick abruptly fell from its place.
THUNK.
Taylon took a step back, unsure of what happened at first, and then saw the stick on the floor. Before he was able to retrieve it, Zediah appeared again by his side. “Glory! And Praise! You have done it!” The old man stooped and picked up the fallen item. He held it aloft like a sacred religious relic.
His apologies cut short, Taylon took a step back as the old man hopped on one leg four times and then the other leg with the wood held high during the whole ordeal. Zediah spun once and then lowered the log.
“This…is for you.” The old man held it out, his eyes serious but filled with awe and wonderment. Not knowing what to do, Taylon accepted the log, curtly nodding.
“May it bring you good fortune and many strong children.” On the latter part, Zediah gave him a nudge with his arm and a meaningful wink. It also sounded like the old man snapped twice before disappearing.
Taylon stared after Zediah, feeling confused and a little embarrassed. This was getting to be too much for his standards. Who the heck had Hazel brought him to? He stared down at the wood, not really sure what he was to do with it. Burn it? Keep it? Give it to a future wife? The last thought reminded him of Euphoria, and he quickly went to find the old man.
Turning the corner, he found them. Hazel sat in a chair, sipping something from…he wasn’t quite sure he would call it a cup. It looked too long to be a cup and it appeared constructed out of leaves. Hazel didn’t seem to be having a problem with it at all.
“Tea, my Brother?” Zediah held an ordinary teakettle out to
him. Steam rose from the spout, and Taylon took a moment to savor the aroma. It smelled of berries and rotten corn. The captain did his best to hold back a grimace, which Zediah apparently took as an acceptance to his offer. He produced another similar leafy vessel and poured the tea into it.
Hazel nodded at the strange cup.
The tea actually tasted better than it smelled. A calming effect washed over Taylon with each drink. He sat on the stool and sipped the liquid frequently. Zediah poured himself a glass, did some sort of hand gesture blessing over the cup before taking it. He slurped his tea, which at first startled the captain, but then Taylon figured it was part of the craziness.
“You mentioned a woman,” Hazel began. Zediah looked up from his cup, his eyes full of the usual merriment.
“Yes…yes…yes! She is still sleeping. Poor soul. Beautiful at that. But the beasts almost had her! Oh heavenly days!” Zediah shook his head.
Taylon’s eyes were wide over the brim of his tea. “But…Hazel told me of these predators. How—?”
Zediah held up one hand to cut his question. “Peace, my Brother. Be still. Drink your tea. Answers will be given.” The words came out in a normal tone, but Taylon could sense the power, wisdom behind them. He did as he was bade and sipped his tea.
Another slurp came from their host, and he set his cup down. He took a moment to slowly nod his head a few times before clasping his hands and looking at Taylon.
“Your queen, your princess is suffering. Two spirits are fighting for one form. This is why you have come.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Again, his words held a serious meaning. All previous banter fell to the wayside. Taylon felt uneasy at this change.
“How—?” Yet again he was cut off by a hand signal. The captain looked in his cup and finished his tea quickly. He set the dish aside before speaking again. “It is why we have come. Hazel said you could tell us more.”
Zediah looked at him patiently. “And that I shall.” The old man looked down for a moment. When his head came back up, his face held a ridiculous smile showing only one tooth. “But first…oh yes…you must come explore the rest of my house. Glory! And Praise!” Zediah jumped up and did a circle dance. Taylon’s mouth hung open as he looked from the crazy old man to Hazel. Hazel smiled and nodded.
“Of course we will, Zediah. Show the way.” Hazel got up from her stool and motioned him onward. As the old man ran forward, she stepped closer to Taylon.
“What’s wrong with him?” the captain whispered. Hazel smiled back at him.
“Magic and artifacts, when not used properly, can eat into the mind. He can help us, but humor him first.”
“Come! Come, come, come. So much to see! So much to enjoy!”
***
Fret, disoriented, started to panic. He had no clue where he was now. He had been fleeing for hours, it seemed. Somewhere along the line, a trail led him deeper into the forest. The river sounded miles away. Without the comforting voice of Lyra, this adventure took a serious wrong turn.
The Territories! He was a human in the Territories. Why had he even listened to her?
Desperately, Fret tried his best to hike through the dense woods back toward the sound of the river, but his sense of direction—coupled with his lack of tracking skills—got him incredibly lost. He wished for a decent trail, or painted sign with an arrow saying Home. But luck failed him. His hunger weakened him, and the day was sweeping toward night. Fret was completely sure he didn’t want to be out in the woods at night.
Behind the nearest tree, he sank to the ground to rest. Never had he cried before, but now, lost, he felt an overwhelming urge to let it all out. What kind of plan landed him in the Territories? Lyra was a stupid piece of glass. How could he have believed her?
As he placed his head between his legs, the first tear started to form. Fret didn’t try to stop it. And once one fell, more came. He sobbed quietly, darkness slowly falling around him. He didn’t care. No one was around to hear.
“Oy!”
Fret lifted his head and jumped to his feet in less than a second. He looked about, wiping the tears, trying to call forth what courage he had left. Nothing. He turned. Leaves and trees and forest. No one.
“Are we just gonna dance?” The voice came again from behind him.
He whipped around, but again only forest greeted him.
“Oy! Down here.”
His heart thumped wildly as his eyes looked down. There stood a little man.
“’Ello.” The little man waved.
Little was an odd term to use in this case because Fret usually referred to the town kids as little. This man stood maybe two feet high. His mind hadn’t decided if it should be scared or find it incredibly hilarious.
“It’s polite to say a greeting back, ya know?”
“Um…hi?” His voice held uncertainty.
“Ah, ya don’t need to be afraid. I know you’re just a human an’ all, but I won’t harm ya.”
He struggled, making an odd grimace. Fret’s mouth hung open, head cocked to the side. His human consciousness tried to take it all in but barely managed to cope with the small man.
“Um, yeah…I see ya still a bit shell-shocked an’ all, seeing your first gnome. It’ll pass.” The little man placed a small cane in front of him and rested both of his hands upon it.
“Gnome?” Fret, clueless about any of the other races, nodded dumbly. His father had books on fairy creatures, but Fret declared books were for losers. A small regret slipped in his head, wishing he had at least read the creatures in the N section of the book.
The little man raised a bushy, white eyebrow in concern. “Usually travelers to the Territories have read at least a little on creatures they may encounter.” The gnome waited but saw no response was coming from Fret. “Well, anyway, I’m Vulpin Ganginderslight, or like most folks call me, Van.”
It took Fret a minute to realize the man was introducing himself. His thoughts still spun in amazement. The gnome waited, stroked his beard, which nearly reached his shoes. Finally, Van spoke again, breaking the awkward silence.
“I see this meeting has left you a bit short on your words, so let me help. Common courtesy dictates that once an introduction is started by one party”—Van made a hand gesture and gave a bend at the knees—“then the other party should introduce themselves by stating their name.” Van then extended a hand up at Fret.
“Fret.” It came out quick and short like a cough.
The gnome looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Fret.” He took a breath and started again. “My name is Fret.”
Van’s brow furrowed as he stared up at the human, considering him thoroughly.
“Fret? Nothing more? Just Fret?”
This question caused Fret to think for a moment, and then he nodded.
“Well then, Just Fret, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”
More silence passed. Fret eyed the little man. Noises came from the forest, causing Fret to jump in alarm, but his eyes always returned to Van. The gnome rocked back and forth on his cane, staring up intently at Fret.
“Which way to the river?” Fret finally blurted out.
Van looked surprise. “My word, ya are a long way off from there. Even if you would start now, it would be dark before ya reached it.” Van pointed in a direction behind Fret. The boy looked back that way, dumbfounded. All this time his sense of direction had him going the opposite way. Fret felt the frustration, the fatigue come crashing down again. His eyes got watery, but this time he fought it. He didn’t want to look stupid in front of the small man.
“Now, don’t worry. I know of a place to stay tonight, and then I can show ya the path to the river tomorrow. What da ya say?”
Fret turned back to the gnome. His memories reminded him that he was in the Territories and that he didn’t know Van or what gnomes did. For all he knew, they could be evil flesh-eating creatures at night. But as he looked down at the man, he couldn’t help but feel Van was genuine.<
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With a nod he accepted.
Chapter Seventeen
It took everyone about two hours to settle down from the shock of the wizard being awake. Snow doted instantly on his every whim, but her face told a different story. Anytime anyone tried to make eye contact with her, she glanced away, toward Ynob, as if she sought his approval. The wizard showed the same attitude toward the Werehare, Gantha mused. These two had feelings for one other but had never had the chance to express them until now. Ra’na stood aside and let Snow do what she needed to. She helped make the tea while the wizard and the rabbit talked in hushed tones deeper in the dwelling. Lourak eventually fell asleep in a chair.
But once all were calmed and seated with tea, explanations were given. Ynob had changed into clean robes after a long bath. During the whole time he had lain asleep, Snow had only washed him down with a wet towel. He now appeared in a pristine condition.
“I offer you my apologies.” Ynob’s face looked strained, as if he had never had to say sorry in his life. Gantha nudged the dwarf awake and handed him some tea. Lourak looked at it, took a sip, and offered a good impression of what a child might call “yucky.”
“This isn’t ale. What the heck are ye givin’ me, Elf Boy?”
It must have been Gantha’s expression that made Lourak realize the wizard was there. The dwarf paused for a moment, staring at Ynob, who glared. Reluctantly, Lourak took another swig. “Ah, my mistake. Better on the second sip.”
Ynob stared a moment longer and then returned his gaze to Gantha and Ra’na. “You have come seeking my help. Since your little trespassing into my vault helped revive me, I concede to offering you my assistance.” The wizard sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his face.
Gantha didn’t know how to respond, but Ra’na saved him. “Um, excuse me. Isn’t that a bit rude?”
“My dear elf, you have much to learn. Yes, it is rude, but it is also rude to snoop around things that don’t belong to you.”
Euphoria Page 13
