SongMaster's Realm

by Wolfram Donat

  “I pictured a waterfall, dumping gallons and gallons of water on just that one branch.”

  “Aye. That’s a good start and probably what I would have tried. In fact,” he said, grinning, “that may be what I did try, but it’s been several hundred years and I can’t remember.”

  “Did it work?”

  “I think it had the same effect for me as it did for you. The problem, I think, is that you, like me, need to think in terms of opposites. The water, though antithetical to the fire, does not negate it. It just kind of ‘covers it up.’”

  Joel thought for a moment. “So what I need to see is what? Ice?”

  “Exactly. Try to think in terms of the four elements in your magic – Earth, Air, Fire and Ice. And notice that it’s ice, not water. Try it again.”

  This time Joel pictured the branch he had selected covered in ice an inch thick, and picked through the Dorian tune. The lights around his hands turned bluish white and streamed towards the branch. It fizzled for a second and then went out. For a moment it almost looked as if it were covered in a slight layer of frost, but if that were the case the heat from the surrounding fire immediately melted it. He looked at Fender smugly.

  The magician smiled encouragingly. “Excellent work, Joel. You picked that up much faster than I expected. It might be that you have an affinity towards ice.”

  “An affinity?”

  “Well, every wizard tends to ‘lean’ towards one of the four elements. Once you discover your affinity, you will find that spells using that particular element are easier for you to perform than with other elements. My element happens to be fire, and one of my wizard acquaintances leans toward the earth end of the spectrum. You might well be an ice wizard.”

  Joel thought for a moment, staring into the flames. “What element does J’Mart have an affinity for?” A burning ember landed on his hand, and he brushed it off absently.

  “All of them. Or none of them. Magical creatures such as Ramikens aren’t limited as we are. It’s as easy for J’Mart to do a fire spell as it is for him to do an earth spell.”

  “All right, I can figure out what a fire spell or an ice spell is, but what’s an earth spell?” asked Joel.

  A glowing piece of ash fell on Fender’s sleeve, and he brushed it off, but not before it left a small hole. “An earth spell is any spell where you materialize something. The creation or assembling of matter falls into the earth category.”

  “Okay, let me try this ice thing again,” said Joel, already scanning the fire pit for another likely branch. He felt a stinging pain on his neck and he slapped it, thinking an insect had bitten him. It was another flying ember. Across the fire, Frayne swore explosively, and he caught a glimpse of Jared slapping himself on the arm.

  Joel came to the realization that something was wrong, and stood up quickly. He immediately became conscious of the fact that the air was filled with glowing embers, and they were growing in size. They were not coming from the fire, but instead seemed to be falling straight from the sky. His companions had risen to their feet as well, and all of them were brushing themselves furiously as the burning particles landed on their clothing, skin and hair.

  He looked at Fender in alarm. “What the hell’s going on?”

  He saw a look of comprehension form in Fender’s eyes. “It’s a firestorm,” he exclaimed. “We’ve got to find some cover.” The wizard ran over to Gaen and began conferring with him excitedly.

  Joel looked at Step. “A firestorm? Is this normal?”

  The little man shook his head, wincing as another spark caught his cheek. “This is magic, wizard. I don’t know about your world, but fire ordinarily doesn’t fall out of the sky in Alera.”

  “All right, people,” yelled Frayne. “We’ve got to find some cover. Luana and Step, spread out in different directions and scout the situation. I want to know how far out this fall spreads from where we are. Everybody else, start looking for cover – rocks, boulders, anything that’ll protect from fire. Fender and SongMaster, see what you can do to stop this fall. It’s magical in origin, so maybe we can counteract it with magic. Move!” The clearing turned into a maelstrom of activity as everyone began moving at once.

  Fender grabbed Joel and headed for a small pile of rocks several yards away. “You may get to test your ice affinity sooner rather than later,” he panted as they ran. “If the two of us work together, we might be able to stop this. Have you seen J’Mart?”

  Joel shook his head. He hadn’t seen the Ramiken since dinner. “Do you want me to call him?”

  Fender stopped for a second, thinking, and was shortly slapping the embers off of his skin. The fall was getting thicker, and Joel realized that they might be in real danger. “Yes,” said the wizard. “His help would come in handy right now.”

  With that, they reached the rocks and struggled to lift decent-sized pieces over their heads to protect themselves. “J’Mart!” called Joel. “Where are you?” Across the clearing, he heard Gaen swear, and either Athena or Luana yelped in pain. There were now several small fires burning in the clearing as well.

  There was a ‘pop’ and J’Mart appeared in his usual spot, several feet in front of Joel. He had no sooner appeared than a burning ember landed on his hand. With a yelp, he disappeared, only to reappear on Joel’s shoulder underneath the tiny rock shelter Joel had fashioned.

  “What the heck’s going on here?” asked the Ramiken. “I leave you for a second and you try to set the forest on fire?”

  Joel shook his head impatiently. “It wasn’t me. Somebody’s sending this at us, according to Fender. We need your help to stop it.”

  The little man shrugged. “Whatever you say, kemo sabe. What do you need?”

  Fender answered from several feet away under a rock of his own. “Joel, you need to create a shield made of ice. I wish I could explain it better, but that’s basically what we need. I will try to add to it, and J’Mart, we could use the extra power. It’s going to have to be a pretty big shield.”

  I can do this, thought Joel. He immediately pictured a dome of ice covering the clearing. Without any more thought, he began to pick out the Dorian tune again as he pictured his icy umbrella.

  Blue lights gathered around his arms and streaked toward the sky like chilly fireworks. When they reached a height of about twenty feet, they stopped and spread, forming the basic shape of a dome. Some of the falling sparks hit the dome and were extinguished, but more got through than were stopped. Heartened by his success, Joel played harder, trying to make the dome more substantial. Try as he might, though, he could not make it any more solid, and the constant bombardment by the burning particles was actually doing damage to it.

  Just then, however, Fender muttered some words under his breath, and a huge streak of blue fire shot from his hands to Joel’s dome of icy light. Immediately the dome solidified a bit, and there was an almost complete cessation of burning particles making it through. As he played, Joel was aware of both Fender continuing to mutter under his breath and of the other members of the company making their way across the clearing to where he and Fender were working. He could spare no attention to how they had fared, however; it took all of his concentration to keep the umbrella corporeal and solid. He could feel how the music he played wove its way through the icy lights, strengthening the shield and extinguishing sparks as they touched it. But there were a lot of sparks, and even as he played he could feel weaknesses forming in the shield.

  That was when J’Mart decided to help. Joel watched out of the corner of his eye as the little man stood completely still and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he clapped his hands together. There was a flash of light and a surge of energy flowed from the Ramiken’s hands to Joel and Fender’s umbrella. The energy surge didn’t stop at the dome, however. It seemed to pick up the energy shield and continued to expand, growing larger and larger. The falling embers stopped completely, and the shield continued to grow until it was invisible in the night sky.

  J’Mart open
ed his eyes and looked at Joel. “You can stop playing now,” he grinned. “That ought to do for now.”

  Immediately, Joel stopped playing, and realized he was exhausted. Looking at Fender, he could see that the wizard was feeling no better than he was. J’Mart, however, looked none the worse for wear. “That was incredible,” said Joel. “Whatever you did, thank you. I could feel it starting to give way.”

  J’Mart did a flip and stood on his head. “No problem. Like I told you before, that’s what I’m here for.” He looked at Fender. “So who sent the firestorm, d’ya think?”

  The wizard slumped and shook his head. “There’s no telling. I don’t have the energy to trace it, but even if I did it doesn’t make a difference, anyway. We repulsed it, thanks to you. How is everybody?” He looked around.

  There were astonishingly few injuries. Luana and Step had each lost some hair, and there were plenty of burns and blisters that needed to be treated, but none were serious. All of the companions thanked Fender and Joel profusely. Even Frayne muttered his gratitude as he bandaged Bowen’s shoulder.

  When everyone was cared for, everyone brought out their bedrolls. Athena volunteered for first watch, and Joel and the others lay down. The adrenaline was still coursing through Joel’s veins and he had a nasty burn on his arm, but he was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

  TWELVE

  Frayne woke everybody early the next morning. Joel sat up and shivered. It was definitely getting colder at night. He could see his breath in the morning air, and there was a thin layer of ice on his bedroll. The material of his bedding seemed to be doing an adequate job of keeping him warm, though he didn’t know how long that would last.

  He rubbed his hands together to warm them up and reached for his guitar. The notes of “Flight of the Bumblebee” came easily now, even to his cold fingers, and shortly there was a steaming pot of mirpoix sitting in front of him. Not wanting to be selfish, he looked around for someone with whom to share the warmth.

  It seemed he was on his own. Most of the others were gathering their things together, getting ready to set out for the day. Jared and Gaen were talking to Fender as the Warmaster gestured animatedly. Pouring himself a cup of mirpoix, Joel wandered over.

  “I’ll try it again,” Fender was saying, “but I don’t think I’ll get a different result. It’s only been a day since my last casting, and that pointed due north.”

  “But there’s nothing there,” said Gaen, sounding impatient. “What are we heading for?”

  Jared held up his hands in the manner of someone who was very familiar with the role of moderator. “Peace, Warmaster,” he said, and then smiled at his own inadvertent play on words. “I believe we agreed that Fender would re-cast the locator spell at various times and give us an update on where we’re headed. He has done exactly that, and we can ask no more of him.” The Prince looked up as Joel approached. “Good morning, SongMaster. Did you rest well?”

  “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” answered Joel. “Though my feet hurt and I would kill for a Starbucks right now. Never mind,” he said quickly, responding to the look on the others’ faces. “What’s the matter? Do we still need to find out where we’re going?”

  “Aye,” growled Gaen. “This book of yours is hidden so well our resident wizard has no idea where it might be. ‘Go North,’ he says, as if that were a destination rather than simply a direction.”

  “Well, I can tell you no more than the spell tells me,” said Fender, “and it’s telling me we need to go that way.” He pointed north towards the ice-covered mountains Joel had seen the day before. “Either the Duran itself or the person who took it is hiding its location rather well, I must say. Not entirely reassuring.”

  “Why not?” asked Joel.

  “Because there’s a lot of power involved in that simple action, one way or the other.”

  “I have an idea,” interjected Jared. “Gaen, you have traveled the Wastes before, yes?” The Warmaster nodded. “I have heard,” continued the Prince, “that there is a ruined city to the northeast… Vertton Crags, I believe it was called.”

  Gaen nodded again. “Aye, at the foot of the Liavir Mountains. I have walked its streets, and it is not an experience I long to repeat.” Joel could swear he actually saw the Warmaster shudder.

  “Fine,” said Jared. “Let us make towards the city. It gives us more of a definite destination, and it seems like as good a place as any to hide out with a book that could destroy the multiverse.” The Prince motioned Withers over. “Do you know Vertton Crags?” he asked the old guide.

  “Of course,” answered Withers. “All guides know the haunted city, though we strive to avoid it.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Joel. “What do you mean, ‘haunted?’”

  The old guide shrugged and grunted noncommittally. “It is said to be haunted. I have seen things there that gave me pause and made the hair on the back of my neck rise. It is a cursed place, and has been there since the time of the Ancients.”

  Jared held up his hand. “Well, haunted or not, that’s where we’re headed. How long will it take us to get there?”

  “At our current pace? Several days – maybe a week.”

  “Fine. Let’s get a move on.” Jared walked over to Frayne, who had been sharpening his sword, and spoke with him. Less than ten minutes later the group was on the move again, marching up and over the small mountain on which they had spent the night and through the pass leading to the Northern Wastes. They had been marching no more than an hour before they came through the pass and Joel got his first look at the expanse of the Northern Wastes.

  His first thought was that they were aptly named. Though not completely barren like he had pictured, they did indeed look blasted, like the remnants of a long-forgotten war. The vegetation was twisted and misshapen, unrecognizable as any plants he had ever seen before. The Wastes seemed to be endless, stretching as far as he could see to the base of the far-off mountains, which he now knew were called the Liavir. From this vantage point, he could see several rivers and streams winding their way through the landscape.

  As he stood there, catching his breath and taking it all in, he realized that he could discern movement even at this height and distance. It was not distinct, merely a crawling sensation of being alive that was not altogether pleasant. He had the impression of watching an anthill, but from such a distance that he could not distinguish any individual sources of movement.

  Joel closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, and realized what was so wrong about the movement he sensed. He could still sense it with his eyes closed. Keeping his eyes closed, he focused his attention on the landscape in front of him. Sure enough, he could feel movement, like a crawling sensation on his skin that encompassed the countryside below.

  Startled, he opened his eyes, only to see J’Mart floating in front of his face, grinning. He stumbled backwards, caught off guard. “Jeez! Didn’t I ask you not to do that?” he said to the Ramiken.

  “At least three times now,” answered the little man. “One of these days I might listen, but not until I get tired of watching you trip over yourself.” He rubbed his chin. “So I guess it’ll be a while. What’re you doing?”

  Joel glared at him. “I was noticing that I can feel things alive down there even with my eyes closed.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s because almost everything down there is at least a little bit magical in nature. It’s probably the only way they can survive. And your senses are becoming attuned to magic.”

  “Because I’ve been doing it myself?”

  “Yup. Pretty cool, huh?”

  “I guess.” Joel shivered. “I just wish it didn’t feel so wrong.”

  Fender had walked up beside them as they talked, and it was he who answered. “It’s because the life force running through the Wastes is not natural, Joel. Whatever happened to the Northern Wastes, however long ago, forever changed the landscape and its inhabitants, and not for t
he better. It is that evil, that wrongness, that you sense.”

  It was then that Frayne told everyone to get on their feet again, and they were off. The hike down to the Wastes was easier than the hike up the mountains, but only slightly. Loose shale was still a danger, and there was little vegetation on this side to hold in case of a fall. They were forced to move slowly to avoid what could be a nasty fall down the side of the mountain. It was past lunchtime when they reached the valley floor, and they stopped for a quick snack before continuing the march.

  Try as he might, Joel had trouble keeping the pace that Frayne and Withers set. Not only were his feet beginning to hurt, he could not help staring at the landscape. Plants unlike any he had seen before stretched toward the sky as if they were silently screaming in pain. Leaves of all colors decorated their branches, and more than a few were adorned with wicked-looking thorns. The grass seemed normal enough, until Joel took a closer look and saw that the individual blades of grass all had razor-sharp edges. Scattered throughout the ground covering plants were varying colors of flowers, but an exploratory sniff revealed the stench of rotting flesh.

  As he walked he kept an eye out for life, and was soon rewarded with movement on a tree trunk. Running over, he saw what looked to be a lizard about six inches long running up the trunk. It looked for all the world like a skink from Earth, but as he watched, it became transparent and disappeared from sight. Shocked, he turned and looked questioningly at Step, who had followed him.

  “Got me,” said the little man, shrugging. “Maybe it’s how he keeps from being eaten. Matter of fact, I wish I could do that.” Without another word, the two of them rejoined the party, although not without some backward glances. The lizard did not reappear, however.