SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  SIX

  When Joel opened his eyes, it looked to be about mid-morning. He stretched and sat up, and immediately winced in pain. His legs felt like one large cramp from his thighs to his toes. Maybe I should have stretched a little before I fell asleep, but man, I was tired. How far did I walk, anyway? Rubbing his legs, he looked around for J’Mart.

  As usual, the little man was nowhere in sight. Joel cleared the sleep from his eyes and grabbed the cup of coffee he had set aside the previous night. He did not feel like trying to conjure another, or to try and light a fire to heat it up, so he gritted his teeth and took a swallow of the cold liquid. It was definitely not an iced mocha, but it was caffeinated, so it would do. He stood up and took his bearings as he drank his coffee. He had slept later than he wanted to, but there was no help for it now. He was actually waking up pretty quickly, and was beginning to wonder where J’Mart had gone. Joel certainly didn’t want to leave without him.

  As if on cue, the Ramiken popped into existence on Joel’s right shoulder. “Morning, sunshine!” he exclaimed. “Are we off?”

  Joel nodded and drained the cup. “Yup. I want to get to Beláin today, I think, and I slept longer than I meant to. Where did you go?”

  “Oh, just looking around. You don’t have to wait for me, you know. No matter where I am or where you are, if you want me, all you have to do is say my name and I’ll be there. With some provisions, of course.”

  “Such as?”

  “You have to be standing on your head, with your right eye closed and your nose all scrunched up.” J’Mart took a look at Joel’s expression and fell over in the air, laughing. “Relax, I’m kidding. Just call me. I’ll be there.”

  “Always?” asked Joel, ignoring the Ramiken’s joke at his expense.

  “Well, only as long as our little partnership lasts. I have other things to do too, you know. And as long as I’m not a prisoner, or you’re not in a magic-proof place of some sort. And as long as you’re not singing show tunes while you’re standing on your head.”

  Joel smiled in spite of himself. “Deal. Shall we get going, then? I want to meet this Fender fellow.” With J’Mart sitting on his shoulder, he set off eastward again, toward Beláin and the mysterious Fender.

  * * * * *

  Fender had been up for some time – since before sunrise, in fact, poring over his books. Although Fenraur’s Guide to Magical Creatures had identified the eldars, it was severely lacking in methods of dealing with them. It also made no mention of how the eldars or the orcs may have found their way to Asria, something he was determined to discover. He had found another reference to orcs in an old scroll he had stuffed away in his bookcase long ago, and was reading it carefully.

  In the matter of orcks, there be only two things that the intelligent wizard can be sure of, and that be that they do not travel lightly or on their own. Indeed, they come at a price, and only at certain urging by one to whome these arts are known.

  Yes, yes, yes, but how do you kill the damn things? He read further down the scroll. Ah ha!

  Like other creatures of magick, orcks may be killed by sword or by spear, with forged metal or by spell. Fire, however, they do not fear, nor does it harm them.

  That was what he was looking for. Apparently they were impervious to fire, but could be killed fairly normally otherwise. Unfortunately, he was having immense difficulty finding any other references to the monstrous eldars. The Guide was the only book he had located so far that mentioned them, and all it did was identify them. He was determined to keep looking, but his eyes were getting tired.

  Times like these were when Fender wished he had more training in the magical arts, or that he had other wizards and magicians close by. Consultations would be very useful. Other magicians and wizards always joined him for the Grand Council, but the first arrivals weren’t expected for another few days.

  Looking north, Fender recalled the tales he had heard of an extremely powerful wizard that lived in the Northern Wastelands. He was more legend than anything, and nobody that Fender had ever met had personal knowledge of the man. He was rumored to be extremely old, on the order of a thousand years, and, so the story went, was almost god-like in his powers. Fender longed to meet him and learn from him, but had never had the occasion to journey to that part of the world to seek him out. The Northern Wastes lay far north of Beláin, and resembled their name. It was a blasted landscape in which few things lived. Those creatures that did survive were twisted and misshapen, unrecognizable and unrelated to anything that lived in any other part of the world. Fender had met a few people who had journeyed that way and returned, and all were changed men.

  He sighed and put thoughts of another wizard’s help out of his mind. The only one who’s going to find what I’m looking for is me. He scanned the shelves, spotted another scroll that might have the information he needed and pulled it out.

  * * * * *

  Beláin was getting nearer – Joel was sure of it. The road was getting packed with people, horses, wagons and cargo, and had grown to the width of an American interstate. Houses along the side of the road were commonplace now, and Joel was forced to avoid talking with J’Mart to keep from attracting attention to himself. There was still no sign of the actual city, though, and Joel was beginning to wonder exactly how far from the city Massar had teleported them.

  Just as he was wondering this, the road crested a hill and Joel was treated to a view of the capital city about a mile in the distance. It was an immense, walled city that looked like the pictures Joel had seen of European cities in the distant past. The wall surrounding the city was about twenty feet tall, made from stone and well-kept. The road on which he and J’Mart were trudging led directly to a set of huge wooden gates that opened into the city.

  Beláin was a port city; the wall that surrounded it did not completely encircle it. Rather, it came to an end on either side of a large harbor, which was filled with all manner of boats. The bay on which the city sat was large and enclosed by mountains, and Joel guessed they did a good job of protecting the city from any storms that might blow in off of the sea beyond. The scene was extremely peaceful, and he paused for a moment to take it all in. He could just catch a whiff of the sea air, and it was invigorating to his tired lungs.

  As he began walking again toward the gates, more details became apparent. Beláin was big enough to hold tens of thousands of people. The wall seemed to completely surround the landlocked portion of the city with a few other gated entrances. Those entrances led to other roads disappearing into the distance. The capitol was obviously enjoying a time of peace – there were only two soldiers guarding each entrance, and the pair that Joel was approaching looked extremely bored.

  He could contain himself no longer. He looked at J’Mart, who was riding quietly on his right shoulder. “Psst!” he whispered out of the side of his mouth. “What can you tell me about this place? Anything I need to know before we reach those two guards?”

  J’Mart shrugged. “Do you want the whole history lesson, or just a fast and easy way to sneak through the gates? ‘Cause the whole lesson might take a little longer than the few hundred yards we’ve got before we get there.”

  “No, just give me the down and dirty right now and fill me in later. Are they going to give me any problems?”

  “They don’t seem to be stopping anybody, looks to me. I think asking questions might require a little more brain power than their walnut-sized craniums can contain.”

  Joel smiled in spite of himself. “Sometime you’re going to have to explain to me your dislike of the military mind. But right now I need you to get me through there with no problems. I’m wearing different clothes and I don’t talk like everyone else, according to that soldier yesterday. I just want to find this Fender fellow and avoid the slammer for now. Some help, here?”

  J’Mart nodded. “Right. I’m sorry. I think I can help. Here – duck behind that tree for a moment.” He pointed to a grove of alders about a hundred feet off of the road.


  When Joel reached the grove and settled down out of sight of the road, J’Mart looked around conspiratorially. “Okay, what I’m about to do could get us into a lot of trouble, so don’t tell anyone what I’m about to do.”

  Joel started. “What? I’m trying to avoid trouble here, not get into it!”

  J’Mart snickered. “Just kidding. Hold on a sec.” He closed his eyes and was abruptly quiet. Joel was about to ask him what he was doing when he felt a tingling sensation wash over him. He looked down at himself, but nothing had changed. He looked inquisitively at the Ramiken.

  The little man answered Joel’s unspoken question. “I put an illusion around you to make you blend in. I gave you local clothes and made your guitar invisible. What do you think?”

  “I don’t see anything. I look the same to me.”

  “Really? Hmmm. There’s a lot of possible reasons for that, but none that I want to get in to right now. Just take my word for it – you look like every other yokel on the street.”

  Satisfied but still a little apprehensive, Joel made his way back to the road and joined the mass of people headed into the city. As they approached the gate, he tried to act inconspicuous, as if he knew exactly where he was going and had every right to be there, which he supposed he did.

  He had no reason to worry. He passed through the entrance without even drawing a glance from the soldiers. Everything almost fell apart when J’Mart whispered loudly in his ear, “You know, it’s really hard to look inconspicuous without looking like you’re trying to look inconspicuous. Can you look a little more inconspicuous?” Joel almost laughed, but caught himself in time. Then they were inside.

  His first impression was that Beláin was beautiful. After passing through the gates, Joel and J’Mart found themselves in a wide area similar to a courtyard. There were small stalls scattered around the periphery, stocked with fruits, vegetables, meats and a variety of other items. The steady influx of people through the gates immediately thinned out as people dispersed to go their separate ways once inside the city. Joel wandered through the market and further into the city, looking around and feeling like a tourist as he gawked. Although everything seemed somewhat primitive to Joel, it was clean and well-kept. People smiled readily at him, and were healthy and dressed cleanly as well. As he walked, he passed several markets and many other businesses such as stables and black smithies. All in all, it seemed to be an example of a thriving metropolis, albeit a few hundred years earlier in technological development than Joel was used to.

  After walking for about an hour, he stopped and took stock of his situation. He now had an idea of what Beláin looked like, but was utterly and completely lost. “Although,” he said out loud to J’Mart, “I can’t really be lost when I had no idea where I was to begin with. Can you be more or less lost?” He looked around at the marketplace where he was standing. “Any idea where I should go from here?”

  The Ramiken shook his head. “Beats me. Everything’s different from when I was here last. I would guess that Fender lives in the palace, but you’ve got me so turned around I couldn’t tell you where my hind end is, much less the palace.”

  Joel laughed out loud, drawing a few curious looks from his neighbors. In spite of his weariness, aching legs and empty stomach, he was in an incredible mood. “All right,” he said to the Ramiken. “I’ll just ask someone, I suppose.”

  He approached one of the fruit vendors. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully. “I’m new in town, and I was wondering if you could direct me towards the palace?”

  The man looked at him a little strangely, but gave Joel clear instructions. Joel thanked him and headed in the indicated direction.

  The streets of Beláin were laid out fairly logically in a grid, and Joel had no problems keeping track of where he was going as he headed in a general northward direction. As he progressed, he noticed a gradual change in the buildings and businesses. There was a feeling of wealth that began to permeate the streets that had been absent when he entered the city, although there had never been a feeling of abject poverty. People seemed to be better dressed and more cheerful, and there were more decorations on the buildings they passed.

  J’Mart must have noticed it as well. “Wow! What a nice part of the city! I could live here!”

  Joel glanced at him. “Yeah, excesses of money tend to do that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe sometime we can have a discussion of the ramifications of serfdom and its economy in the Middle Ages. You’re looking at the upper-class part of the city, but normally in an economy like this, it’s the lower class that suffers.”

  J’Mart shook his head. “Okay, maybe I’m still not entirely clear on the whole ‘money’ concept, but the people we were walking by earlier didn’t exactly seem to be suffering.”

  “That’s true, and it does seem a little odd. Every economic theory I’ve read predicts an almost poverty-stricken lower class in this sort of economy. Maybe I’ll have time to look into it later. But I think we’re here.”

  Just ahead was a building that was quite obviously the royal dwelling. It was surrounded on all sides by a high white wall, and four towers rose into view from inside the wall. He was approaching a gate not unlike the entrance to Beláin he had gone through earlier, also guarded by two soldiers. This pair, unlike the city guards, did not seem to be bored or stupid in the slightest, and Joel stopped to consider how he should approach them.

  “What’s wrong?” asked J’Mart.

  “Nothing. It’s just that I can’t really sneak by those two, and I’m trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Any ideas?”

  “No problem. Give me a sec.” The Ramiken closed his eyes for a moment, and Joel felt his skin tingle again. When he glanced downward, however, he again saw no change in his appearance.

  “What did you do?”

  “Took off the illusion spell. All you gotta do now is walk up there and ask for the wizard, and I guarantee, the way you’re dressed, they’ll understand.”

  “Gee, thanks, I think. All right, here goes.” Squaring his shoulders, Joel marched up to the gates.

  The guards immediately stepped forward. “Halt!” commanded the taller of the two. “State your name and business in the royal house!”

  Taking care to keep his hands in plain sight, Joel spoke slowly. “My name is Joel Peters. I have made a great journey, and I need to see the wizard named Fender. Could that be arranged?” He didn’t feel quite comfortable with the speech, but it would have to do.

  “And what is your business with him?” Both men were sizing him up carefully, obviously taking note of his unusual appearance. The shorter one eyed his guitar case suspiciously. “Is he expecting you?”

  Joel sighed. “I just need to speak with him – it’s urgent, and no, he’s not expecting me. Could you just tell him that I’m here, and that Massar sent me?”

  He had obviously struck a chord. Both men backed up slowly, and the shorter one eyed him carefully. “Aye, I will tell him. Wait here.” Joel nodded. The two conferred quietly for a moment, and the shorter one slipped inside the gate. Joel put his hands in his pockets and waited patiently.

  It was only a few minutes before Shorty appeared again. He was not alone. Trailing him was a man dressed in a brown robe who appeared to be about sixty, but it was difficult to guess his age exactly. He had graying hair just past his shoulders and a medium-length beard, also flecked with gray. He walked easily and with a sense of assurance and power that immediately reminded Joel of Massar.

  He knew it was Fender. He stepped forward and held out his hand. “Good morning, sir. My name is Joel. Thank you for meeting with me. I’m sorry to bother you on such short notice, but there was no way to let you know I was coming.”

  Fender stepped forward as well and took Joel’s hand. His grip was firm, and his eyes, although taking in everything about Joel’s appearance, were dancing with good humor. “Well met, Joel Peters,” he said in a deep baritone. “It i
s nice to meet you and your friend. Did you tell Sheamus here that Massar sent you?”

  “Um, yes, actually. He’s the reason I’m here at all. He said to find you and tell you everything. That is, before he disappeared.” Suddenly it dawned on Joel what Fender had said. “Um, can you see J’Mart?”

  Fender smiled. “If that is the Ramiken’s name, yes, I can see him. A consequence of being a magician, I’m afraid. How do you do, J’Mart?”

  J’Mart waved almost nonchalantly. “Morning, magic man,” he said. “Friend of Massar’s, are you?”

  Fender shook his head and smiled again. “I’m afraid not. I know who he is, but I was beginning to believe that he was just a legend. No living person in Asria has ever had any contact with him. It’s funny, actually, because I was just thinking about him earlier this morning. Quite auspicious, it would seem.”

  Joel nodded. “So it would seem. Listen, is there somewhere we can go to talk? I have a long, probably impossible-to-believe story to tell you, and I’ve been on my feet for a long time. Actually, before we do that, is there a way I could get something to eat? It’s been days, I think.” He realized that he liked Fender immediately.

  The wizard nodded and gestured for Joel to follow him as he stepped into the courtyard beyond the palace gates. “Let’s stop by the kitchen and get you something to eat and then head up to my rooms to talk.” Joel slipped through the gates between the soldiers and followed him inside.

  Once inside the walls, it was obvious that this was a royal house. Joel gazed around at the courtyard. It was muddy from the recent rain, but there were ample flagstones on which to walk. Scattered throughout the yard were trees and bushes, some of which were completely foreign to him. All were neatly trimmed and healthy. Directly across from the gates by which he had entered was what he assumed to be the royal house, and it was in this direction the wizard was leading him. There were two magnificent carved wooden doors, flanked by another pair of guards. Without a word to them, Fender led Joel through the doors and into the hallway behind. He immediately made a sharp left and they entered a dining room of sorts. There were a few people eating and drinking at the scattered tables and benches, and it gave Joel the impression of a sort of company break room. There were all kinds of delectable aromas floating around the room, and his mouth immediately began to water.