“It was at this time that the one other bonding wizard at the school discovered my powers. He took me under his wing and became my new master.”
“Who?” Justan asked.
“Unfortunately, Edge, I cannot tell you. His existence is kept quite secret. Very few know about it and the reasons why are, again, part of a lesson for another day.”
“I see,” Justan grumped. He had come to accept that this was the way Master Coal worked, but waiting for knowledge didn’t make much sense as far as he was concerned.
“At any rate, that was a great time for me. Not so much for Honstule. As I spent more time through the bond with Neal I had less inclination to communicate with the goblin. Why talk to a creature that had evil thoughts and spent most of the conversation ridiculing you when you had a dear friend you could chat with?”
“How did Honstule take it?”
“He grew angry that he had been replaced. I ignored him more and more and that was a mistake. Honstule began planning retaliation. That fall it came time once again for the Training School exams. Neal and I were part of the caravan. As we crossed the same spot where Honstule and I had bonded, we were attacked by an army of goblinoids.
“There must have been forty in all. Over a score of screaming goblins, a dozen gorcs and orcs and one giant. All of them were armed with weapons stolen from caravans over the years. Honstule himself rode in a harness strapped to the giant’s shoulders, protected from attacks by its bulk. It was a huge beast, maybe twelve feet tall and twice as wide as Fist. It wore a patch over one eye where Honstule had defeated it in battle.
“I was stunned. I never expected Honstule to actually attack us. I thought that we had gotten past that. I wasn’t aware just how jealous he had become. As they surrounded us, he yelled at me through the bond, telling me that I would be sorry. In anger, I responded that I was finished with him. I told him to leave and never return and we would spare their lives.
“Honstule howled and shouted out orders to his goblinoids. It was very well organized attack. The leader of our academy escort was killed right away as part of Honstule’s attack strategy. It was designed to put the rest of the caravan in disarray so that he could get to the mages, but after the initial surprise, Neal took charge and rallied the remaining guards, while I and the other mages supported with attack spells and healing. Honstule’s goblinoids were decimated. He soon had only a dozen of his fiercest warriors left and they were a hairs breadth away from fleeing. Neal went after the giant, knowing that if he could take the beast down, the attackers would dissipate and Honstule could be captured.”
Justan could see the battle unfolding in his mind: the flames, the shouting, the screams of the dying goblins. It reminded him of his own first battle in the plains. He found himself holding his breath as Master Coal described the fight between Neal and Honstule’s giant.
“Neal was nimble and good with his spear. He was able to avoid the swings of the giant’s enormous club and counter attack. Soon the beast was wounded in several places and bleeding badly. Honstule could see that the battle was lost. He was screaming at his few remaining forces to rally and help the giant, but they scattered and ran into the hills.
“It should have been over then. I was wondering what to do with Honstule once we had captured him. The giant had grown weary from loss of blood and Neal was ready for the finishing strike, but one of the young mages grew too eager. He sent out a lightning strike . . .”
Justan shook his head. He had been on the receiving end of one of those spells himself. Lightning strikes were dangerous to use in close battle. They traveled along the ground as they hit and could cover a large area depending on the moisture in the soil, taking down friend and foe alike.
Master Coal halted the tale momentarily. He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. His voice was thick as he continued, “The bolt struck at the giant’s feet right as Neal’s spear pierced its heart. Neal fell as the shock hit him. The giant fell on top of him.”
“Was he okay?” Justan asked, though the grief in his master’s eyes told him the answer.
“As the giant fell, the spear was still stuck in its body. The butt of the spear stuck in Neal’s ribcage and the force of the giant’s fall crushed his chest. He was dead instantly and felt no pain. But I . . .”
Justan understood. It was Master Coal that felt the pain. He shuddered at the idea of Fist or Gwyrtha being killed.
“Edge, the death of a bonded is something I hope you never have to go through. The pain you feel when bonding happens again when your connection is severed, but that is nothing compared to the mental anguish. It is like a part of your soul is ripped from you. The loss is greater than the lost of a friend or loved one. They are part of you in a more personal way than anyone but another bonded could understand. And I . . . I was with him through the bond as he died. I had seen the strike coming and was shouting at him to run, when he was torn away from me. I saw his spirit pulled away from his mortal form. I reached out to him trying to stop it, but he flew beyond my grasp and disappeared. The pain hit and the loss . . . I screamed, Edge. I screamed my voice out, both aloud and through the bond. When my voice would no longer go on, I continued screaming through the bond. I injured my throat. I was unable to speak for days, not that I felt like speaking.
“Honstule took the brunt of my impotent rage and pain. I think in a way it shattered him. He broke free from the body of the giant and ran off sobbing, holding his head with one hand, clutching at his heart with the other. Honstule had never felt loss like that. Goblins have emotions, but they don’t have lasting connections. Their relationships are fleeting and based out of mutual need instead of attachment. As twisted as our relationship was, I was his first and only friend. Neal was his first loss.”
Master Coal leaned back in his chair, exhausted from the telling. “I was catatonic for the most part for the next several days. I barely remember anything about the rest of the trip. The tests concluded. I stayed in the wagon for most of the return trip. Then, just as the caravan was about to enter the Tinny Woods, the wagon came to a stop. I heard a shout and went to the door. Honstule was kneeling in the middle of the road, his face in the dirt. He pleaded to speak with me. When I got there, he was surrounded by the guards, their weapons at his throat. They wanted to kill him. Part of me wanted to let them.
“Honstule pleaded with me through the bond to forgive him. He told me that his original intent in attacking the caravan was not to kill Neal. The plan had been ransack the caravan and scatter us. He wanted to scare me is all. He wanted revenge for being ignored. He wanted me to fear him and therefore listen to him. It had all backfired and ended in tragedy. He offered his life up to me as compensation for his crimes. His guilt was palpable.”
Master Coal leaned forward. “This is the important part of what he gained from me through the bond. The strength and intelligence and extended life span were but a side effect. I believe that the emotional connection and ability to know right from wrong, to feel guilt was what he really needed.”
“What did you do?” Justan asked.
“I wasn’t able to forgive him. Not right away. We bound him and brought him back to the school with us. He spent a short time in a cell, while the council tried to figure out what to do with him. The council knew of my bonding magic and put me in charge of finding out how much he could be trusted. I eventually overcame my anger enough to start spending time with him through the bond. Finally he was allowed to be released and lived as a worker in the gardens. It wasn’t an easy life for him, surrounded by humans and referred to as ‘Coal’s pet’. I had been named at the Bowl of Souls by then and most didn’t understand my attachment to the goblin. He learned to ignore the others and focused on the work. He became fascinated by horticulture. He would spend all his time either in the library doing research or in the garden practicing his skills.”
“So that’s how he came to create the Honstule plant,” Justan said.
“It is his crown achievement,�
�� Master Coal said. “He didn’t finish his work until he was old and wizened. Goblins have a fairly short lifespan. They are adults by the age of ten. They live a rough life and most only live to be in their teens. As far as I can tell, Honstule died at the age of sixty. It was about ten years ago now.”
“There is one more thing I don’t understand,” Justan said. “The bonding comes when there is a great need from both of those being bonded, right? So I can understand why Honstule needed you. He had a broken leg and was about to be killed. But . . . why did you need him? Goblins are weak and as you said, short lived. They are mean and nasty creatures. What did you have to gain?”
“It is a bit hard to explain and it didn’t make any sense to me at all for a long while, but Honstule explained it to me himself one day just before he died. The answer makes complete sense looking back on it now. You see, I was a smart young man back in those days, but I was also far too open and trusting. I think Honstule called me ‘gullible’ when he explained it.
“My whole life I was taken advantage of by everyone because I was too willing to believe whatever I was told. I needed to learn cunning. I needed to learn to distrust people sometimes. Both of those qualities were something that Honstule had plenty of. And it worked too. Looking back, I realized that it was around the time of our bonding that I had a great epiphany. Many of the people I thought were my friends really weren’t. I began to be able to pick those people out and was much happier as a result.”
“I see,” Justan said. He gained some comfort from the fact that two vastly different people such as Honstule and Master Coal could come together. “I am glad that at least it ended up well.”
Master Coal frowned, seeming a bit perturbed by his response. “Yes, but after years and years of painful trials. This isn’t always the case. That is where the second story I wanted to tell you comes in. It has to do with the rock giant, Charz.”
“What does Charz have to do with bonding magic?”
“The Master who taught me about bonding magic told me the story of Charz long before I met the giant myself,” Master Coal said. “It happened over a hundred years ago. Charz was imprisoned in an arena in far off Khalpany. He was kept there for large gladiator battles and he had become legendary. He was undefeated. Then one day a powerful bonding wizard came upon the arena. As he watched Charz fight, they bonded.
“The bonding wizard spoke with him afterward and the giant was miserable. He was fierce and wild and loved the fighting, but he hated being captive. The giant longed to be free. He wanted to roam the wilds and fight bigger and better creatures. That night, the wizard freed him.”
“Just like that?” Justan asked.
“Well I’m sure it was complicated. I don’t know how he was able to accomplish the feat. At any rate, they escaped the arena. The ruler of Khalpany was displeased and sent armies to replace his prized fighter. Charz defeated every force that was sent after them.”
“So how did Charz get along with the wizard?” Justan asked.
“He liked having someone along that could heal him after injuries. He enjoyed the wizard’s wit and the companionship of the wizard’s other bonded. But he disliked being told what to do. He was always searching out fights. He put them in danger countless times. When the wizard tried to get him to stop, he ignored him. The wizard tried countless things to get him to stop. Finally Charz left the group in anger and went on a spree. He challenged every fighter or creature he could find, leaving dead and wounded in his wake. The wizard followed behind, healing those he could and making reparations when possible.
“But Charz went too far. He sought out a retired academy graduate, a named warrior known as Sir Slash. Slash had settled down near the Razbeck border and had become a fisherman. He had a pregnant wife and refused to fight. Charz goaded him by killing his horse. When that didn’t work, he crushed Slash’s house. Finally he attacked Slash’s wife. Charz broke her arm before Slash finally agreed to go to battle.
“When the bonding wizard arrived, Slash was dead. His pregnant wife with the broken arm nearly lost the baby. Charz, who was gravely wounded was ecstatic over his triumph and demanded to be healed. The wizard realized that Charz was uncontrollable and too dangerous to be left free. But a bond is forever and he could not make himself kill him. Instead, he gave him an ultimatum. Either Charz gave up challenging people to fight, or he would imprison him again. Charz refused to change his ways.
“So his master used powerful earth magic to bind Charz’s body to a nearby cave. The spell had provisions. As long as the rock giant stayed by the cave, he would heal from anything, but the further away he strayed from the cave, the weaker the healing magic would become. Also, there was a limit. If the giant wandered too far from the cave, he would collapse and be unable to move. The wizard told him that the spell would stay in place until he had a change of heart. Then he left Charz there and never returned.”
“What a sad story,” Justan said.
“Yes, it’s sad. Do you see? Charz has been captive in his little territory for a hundred years and still he had not changed his ways. I myself tried for years to get him to reconcile with his bonding wizard. Some people will never change.”
Justan knew what he was trying to say. Doubtless Master Coal expected the story to fill Justan with dread and temper his interactions with his Deathclaw. But what Justan thought of wasn’t the Charz he met in the forest; arrogant, angry, and evil. What came to mind as Master Coal finished his story was Charz as he last saw him on the bank of the river; lonely, weeping, and utterly defeated. Justan was determined not to let Deathclaw meet such an end.
Chapter Thirty
“Oh how I loathe him,” the sultry voice said.
Arcon watched the wizard Ewzad Vriil pace back and forth at the balcony’s edge while his Mistress’ frustration echoed in his head. The mistress wanted Ewzad to set their plans in motion, but he was too busy waiting for his plaything to return. Hamford stood silently next to Arcon. They had been standing there since lunch, waiting for hours until the sun had set. The mistress hated being made to wait.
“Why am I stuck with this fool?” she snarled. Arcon tried not to have an opinion. The wizard and his mistress were always at odds it seemed and yet they still continued to work together. He did not understand why, but he didn’t ask. Unwanted questions could lead to punishments.
“He should be back by now,” Ewzad grumbled. “Yes-yes, he should. Still, closer, closer. He is coming I feel it. Why does he take so long?”
“I wish I could command you to push him over the edge,” she added. “It would be so easy.”
Arcon did not let his expression change, knowing that the wizard would notice. His mistress was wrong. It would not be easy. Ewzad did not trust him. Ewzad knew where his loyalties lied and watched him like a hawk. Even if he was lucky and somehow successfully pushed the wizard over the edge, Ewzad Vriil would reach out one of his writhing arms and cause Arcon’s neck to grow and grow until it dangled long enough to grab onto and haul himself up. Then . . . Arcon repressed a shudder. Whatever the wizard decided, it would mean a grisly death for him.
“How little faith you have in me,” his mistress sneered and yanked the pain centers of his mind. Arcon’s knees nearly buckled and sweat popped out on his forehead but still he did not allow his expression to change.
No mistress, please, he replied trying to keep his tone even despite the searing pain, I would do whatever you asked of me even if it meant my death.
“Of course you would, my dear.” She stroked the pleasure centers now and his knees nearly buckled again. “But then why do you doubt me? Why doubt my wisdom? I would not send you to your death.”
I know, mistress. He almost thought the words, “unless it served your purposes”, but shoved the rebellious phrase down deep into his subconscious and locked it away before she could hear it. Instead, he thought, You love me. You would not let me die.
“Oh really?” Ewzad spat. He was talking to the mistress again. Arcon c
ould tell. “You think I don’t know this? The army will wait a moment longer. She is returning to me!”
I am your servant Mistress. Always, Arcon said. He spoke with his mind and not with his lips as Ewzad Vriil did. Arcon was puzzled by the wizard’s eccentricities. Like Arcon, Ewzad had a moonrat eye embedded in his flesh. She would hear his thoughts, surely the wizard knew this. How could one so intelligent act so foolishly? It didn’t matter who was around, the queen, nobles, soldiers, he always jabbered away, embarrassing himself in front of others.
“It is his pride, sweet Arcon,” she said, her irritation like a knot in the back of his head. “He cares not what others think. They are insignificant to him. His own vanity and desires are all he cares about. Nothing else.”
He felt the urge to think, “So unlike you, mistress,” but pushed the sarcastic thoughts back in his mind to lock away with the others. Arcon was getting better at controlling his thoughts. It wasn’t easy. When he had first set out of the Tinny Woods with his mistress’ gift inside him, he had been open with his frustrations. Weeks of constant punishments had trained his mind since then.
Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) Page 32
