by GJ Kelly
Garin didn’t know what to say. She had obviously seen the white robes and assumed he was Eyan. “Master Eyan has gone,” he said gently.
She looked up and saw that it was not the wizard she had expected. She covered her shock quickly and then, noticing that he wore wizard robes, gasped in understanding.
“Forgive me, Wizard Garin, I did not know.” She lowered her eyes respectfully once more. “My grandfather will be sorely grieved that your master has gone. He was a good man.”
“He still is,” Garin commented softly. “Go home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Taya looked confused, as if she had misunderstood where Master Eyan had gone. Then she nodded and for a brief moment looked up straight into Garin's eyes. Her gaze was unfaltering, her eyes wide, and yet there was a hint of a question in them, as though she were seeing him for the first time, and assessing him as enemy, or friend, or more. Then she had turned on her heel, and was hurrying away, the hem of her well-worn dress streaming behind her.
oOo
-2-
No sooner had Garin returned to the cottage to collect his bag and prepare the aromatic lamp-oil for Taya's grandfather, there came a rapping on the door accompanied by a laboured wheezing. This time, Garin opened the door without hesitation, and smiled a greeting at the red-faced and jolly inn-keeper's wife.
“Oh, Apprentice Garin! Oh I do hope I've not disturbed yer Master, but 'tis me knee…”
“I know.” Garin smiled and handed her the tiny vial. “It's the cold…”
“Aye! And the damp! Why, me knee does grieve me so sore when them two's here together…Why, Apprentice Garin! You be wearing the robes!”
Garin nodded, and felt his smile fading. “Master Eyan has gone away for a time, Mistress Janna.”
“He has? He looked so frail last time I saw him!” Mistress Janna said in surprise.
“He’ll be back,” Garin asserted, as much for himself as for her, and the jolly red face smiled back at him, disbelieving but supportive.
“Well, good Master Eyan will be greatly missed, young Master Garin, that he will by all the folks around here. He were a good man, that master of yours, and a great wizard in his day too, by all accounts. Now, if there be anything I might do. Should you need a helping hand you come down to the Fisherman's Rest and you comes straight to me, now then!”
“Thank you, Mistress Janna. I will be fine and I have another call to make…”
“Of course, young Master. I'll away to me work, and leave you be to yours.”
A sudden thought struck Garin as the portly woman turned to leave. “Mistress Janna, what news have you heard about a new king to be crowned?”
The woman's small eyes widened in shock. “You mean you haven't heard, young Master? Why, bless me! The news was all over the village yesterday!”
“I had errands for my Master, in the city.”
“Ah! Well,” her voice dropped to a whisper, and she glanced nervously out into the bushes before pressing forward over the threshold. “Word is that the son of the late King Ramas is cut from the same cloth as his father. Dislikes wizards even more I’ve heard tell. His father may have made wizards unpopular, but they say King Peiter may banish all wizards. Seems he’s scared of the likes of you. I’d keep my distance from him if I were you. Makes me glad I live in humble Portsan, so it does, for there'll be trouble when he is crowned, you mark my words.”
“A wizard would never do harm to anyone. We are no threat.”
“Well, you'll know more about that than a humble inn-keeper's wife, I'm sure, Master Wizard! Were it not your own Master Eyan who enchanted Othel's crown after the great war, so as to make sure only his bloodline might wear it?”
Garin nodded, remembering stories by the fireside that told the tale of the bewitched crown. So it was that Eyan had worked day and night for a full week, moulding and kneading and shaping a powerful spell which would ensure that none but the royal line could wear the crown of the King of Kings and survive the coronation. Should the crown rest upon a non-royal head, a terrible death would befall the foolish pretender. Surely if the new king did not believe in magic, then why would he wear such a crown and what could he want from Garin?
“Well then,” Mistress Janna turned once more towards the town, “I can't be a-gossiping all day, not while me lord and master is in the cellar shifting kegs and barrels all on his own! Good day to you, Young Master!”
And with that, she limped off down the shingle track towards the inn on the far side of the village.
Garin drew his cloak around him against the chill breeze and trudged his way towards Tomas' cottage. The memories of Eyan's stories bothered Garin all the more thanks to the royal summons he'd received. It was obvious that King Peiter wanted Eyan the Elder, Othel's Grand Wizard, to attend him at Castle Kinlock. It was Eyan who had cast the spell that protected the Crown of Kings. Perhaps the king simply wanted the spell re-affirmed, or even removed? Perhaps there was a more sinister reason for the summons.
Garin sighed and shook his head. No point worrying about it now. Not that there was anything he could do about it anyway as he didn’t understand politics. Besides, he'd find out soon enough and there was Taya's grandfather to attend to. He arrived at Taya’s cottage and cast aside his doubts and fears as he knocked on the door.
It was Taya herself who opened it and, with a polite greeting, ushered him in and to her grandfather's room. The old man was propped on a pillow, breathing painfully and clutching a threadbare woollen blanket around his labouring chest. Garin filled the lamp with the treated oil, and lit it in spite of the daylight streaming in through the open window-shutters.
“Ah, the smoke. It was just too much for me…” the old man mumbled. “I made it though. I saved the elves.”
Taya shook her head, as if sad that the old man was losing his mind. Soon, the sharp aroma of limeberry filled the air and the old man sighed his relief before falling into a peaceful slumber.
Garin nodded towards the door and a relieved and smiling Taya led him out into the living-room.
“Thank you, Master Garin.” She smiled and ran her hand through her short-cropped flame-red hair.
Garin smiled back and watched the way the sunlight sparkled and flashed like a halo around her head. It was a shame, he thought, that she so often helped on her father's fishing boat. Out there, on storm-tossed seas surrounded by ropes and netting, long hair might very well prove a recipe for disaster to man or woman and that was why Taya's was cut so short. She was a little older than Garin, but only by a few months.
He suddenly realised he must have been staring, for Taya was eyeing him curiously.
“Oh…” he managed, feeling his cheeks colour.
“Uhm,” she hesitated, “Will the arrangements be the same as when Master Eyan was Wizard of Portsan?”
Garin was taken aback. “I'm sorry?”
“The arrangements? Will they be the same, now that you're Master Wizard?”
“Er…”
“For payment, Master Garin.”
“Oh! Those arrangements! Yes, yes of course.” Garin felt suddenly stupid and extremely warm. He couldn't hold her amused gaze and he glanced hurriedly around the room. Seeing a backpack and a bundle of neatly-folded clothing on the table, he croaked: “Is someone going on a trip?”
Taya struggled to remain polite and respectful and the strain of holding back the giggle that was building in her throat was almost too much. Here was the Apprentice Fool, the wizard’s walking-stick, now Master Wizard of Portsan, blushing like a naughty schoolboy caught red-handed chalking a rude word on a blackboard.
“Yes, Master Wizard,” she said and Garin could clearly hear the humour in her voice, “I'm leaving for Kinlock in the morning. It's fully five days journey on foot.”
“Kinlock! Why are you going there?”
Taya cocked her head to one side and eyed him curiously. “I go to petition the new king.”
“What for?”
Taya drew ba
ck a little and folded her arms. “Master Wizard,” she said, coolly, “That is a matter for myself, and for the king.”
Garin flushed again. He'd been babbling like an idiot and had overstepped the bounds of polite conversation. Everyone knew that it was a commoner's right to petition the king, without let or hindrance. Indeed, it was a serious offence, punishable by five years' labour, to interfere with a petitioner. Othel himself had decreed the law, giving everyone in the land the right to seek justice and aid from the throne.
“Forgive me,” Garin muttered, struggling to regain his wizardly composure, “I didn’t mean to be rude. I myself have been summoned to Castle Kinlock. I thought…well, I thought that we might journey together.”
“I think that is a matter for my father, Master Wizard. I shall ask him tonight when he and my brothers return from sea.”
“Of course. Uhm, here…” Garin handed her a large bottle of prepared lamp-oil from his pack. “This should be enough for some considerable time. Your grandfather should only need the lamp for an hour each day. There's enough here to last until spring at least.”
“Thank you, Master Garin. You're very kind.”
Garin bowed self-consciously, slung his pack over his shoulder, and headed for the door.
Taya suddenly softened towards the young man. “I'll speak to my father tonight,” she called, “About our journeying together.”
Garin nodded and tried, but failed, to smile. Then he was out on the shingle track once more, shivering in a sudden chilly gust, and headed for home. He was halfway to the cottage when with horror he suddenly remembered he had left the elf-tree staff propped in the corner of the cottage. He'd gone out in public, wearing the robes, but had left the cloak and staff behind. Thank goodness Eyan wasn’t here to see!
That made Garin suddenly think of his journey to Kinlock, with or without Taya. Here in the village, no-one paid any attention to ancient laws created in the golden age of wizardry. No-one would give a hoot about Wizard Garin going about in public without the staff. But in Kinlock? Perhaps no-one would care in the town, but what about the castle, and King Peiter? The new king had summoned Eyan the Elder and would expect a Grand Wizard to carry the staff. But Eyan was at Mount Renga and the staff had rejected the new Wizard of Portsan.
I wonder if I could hold it with gloves? Garin thought.
“You there!” A deep voice crashed through Garin's musings. “You there! Wizard!”
Garin stopped dead in his tracks and looked towards the source of the cry. Coming towards him was a tall, broad young man, a four-foot broadsword slung across his back and a crossbow canted jauntily across his shoulder.
“Are you deaf, Wizard?” the young man boomed.
“No…” Garin could see now that the man was younger than his height made him appear. He’d be no older than himself by more than a summer!
“Good! Thought for a moment I'd have to shout!”
Garin stood rooted to the spot. The youth was grinning from ear to ear and his chubby face was framed by wild and wind-swept sandy hair.
“By Cordak! Either you've discovered the secret of eternal youth, or you ain't Eyan the Elder of Elvenglade!”
“No, I ain't…I mean, no I'm not. My name is Garin…”
“Garin, eh? Now that's a good old-fashioned elf-name if ever there was one!” The young man laughed, throwing his head back, and coming to a halt inches from the young wizard. Garin eyed him nervously. He smelled of oiled steel and leather. “But it's Eyan the Elder I've come to see, the Grand Wizard of Elvenglade. This must be some place to have two wizards in it, by Cordak! Now, if you'll just point me in the right direction…”
“Uhm…”
“Uhm what? What's the matter, troll got yer tongue?” The young man stared deep into Garin's eyes suspiciously. “You're not under some sort of curse, or suchlike, are you? Speak the language, do you?” and then his voice rose again “Do…you…under…stand…me? Me…looky…for…Grand…Wizard!”
Garin recoiled a few steps. “Master Eyan has gone.”
“Gone?” he bellowed. “Gone? Gone where? By Cordak! It's taken me a month to walk to this miserable fish-stink village, and you tell me he's gone? When did he leave? Which way did he go? Out with it young wizard-me-lad, or as my name's Rydan Drake, I'll…”
“He left last night.”
“Where to?”
“Mount Renga.”
“Can I catch up with him?” Drake asked, looking around as if expecting the wizard to be walking off in the distance.
“He did not travel by foot,” Garin explained and the warrior drew his heavy eyebrows down in a frown. “He will not return for some time. I was his apprentice these five years past. Perhaps I can help, Sir Drake?”
“Sir, is it?” Drake laughed, though without a great deal of humour. “You’d be about the same summers as me! And no I need no wizardry. It was Eyan the Elder I came here to help, from duty and honour.”
“Duty and honour?”
“Long story, very boring.” Drake sighed and glanced at the houses and huts over the top of Garin's head. “Eyan gone. By Cordak. Well, there's nothing for it now then. Which way to a hostelry, or inn, or whatever serves for travellers in this fish-stink place of yours?”
“You're welcome to rest at…uhm…Eyan’s cottage, if you've a mind to. It's nothing much, but it's clean and I've food.”
“No inn, then, eh?”
“Yes, there's an inn. The Fisherman's Rest, on the other side of the village, overlooking the harbour.”
“Probably stinks of fish then, eh?” The huge young man was wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“I daresay, being close to the harbour. This is a fishing village.”
“No need to take offence, Master Garin. Come on then, away to this humble cottage of yours.”
So they set off, up the shingle path once more, each alone with their thoughts and Garin dwarfed by the massive figure of the young warrior at his side.
Once indoors, Garin stoked the fire and set a cauldron of broth to cooking, while Drake tried the old rocker by the fire. It creaked alarmingly and Drake leapt out of it for fear it would shatter beneath him. Instead, he drew a bench seat from under the oaken workbench and plopped himself down on that.
“So you were Eyan's apprentice then?” he asked, attempting conversation.
“These five years past.”
“Hmmm. You must be pretty powerful I suppose. Surprised you didn't turn me into a frog for yelling at you the way I did.” Drake chuckled. “Do…you…understand…me?”
Garin grinned in spite of himself. “I haven't quite mastered the art of turning people into frogs.”
“Good. I really hate frogs. Nasty slimy little things. Always getting squashed underfoot. Not on purpose, you understand. Just my size. It's a long way down there and sometimes I don't notice them.” Drake raised a booted leg and shaded his eyes as if viewing the horizon.
“Why did you want to see Master Eyan?”
“Oh that. Like I said it’s a long story and very boring. And you look like you're busy.”
“Not really. Just packing a few things. I have to leave for Castle Kinlock tomorrow morning. You're welcome to stay as long as you like though.”
“Very kind of you! Although I don't much fancy staying in a wizard's cottage on me own, thankee very much. Spells everywhere. All sorts of protections against thieves and villains, no doubt. Knowing my luck, I'd pick up a flagon to fill it with ale and find meself turned into a slimy frog before you could say 'by Cordak I'm a frog!'”
Garin found himself warming to the youth. For all his size and terrifying weapons, this young warrior seemed like a giant clown. But the four-foot broadsword propped against the side of the fireplace was no joke and Garin had no doubt that Rydan Drake could wield it as easily as a feather-duster.
“Ah well,” Drake continued, settling back with his elbows on the bench behind him. “Seems one of my great-grandfathers, or something, served Othel. Anyway, Eyan the Eld
er weren't much older than you and me back then and he saved my ancestor's life at the risk of his own.
“So, that ancestor of mine swore a blood oath and that's been passed down through our family ever since. When the eldest of each generation reaches manhood he must present himself to Wizard Eyan to do his bidding.”
“And that's why you came here looking for Eyan?”
“Yep. Turned eighteen last summer, passed all my trials, and the elders declared me of age. Load of nonsense, I know, but there you are. Who am I to upset my long-dead ancestors by breaking the oath they made years before I was born?” Drake sniffed. “Nobody, that's who. And the only wizard I find is off on a travel of his own!”
“I’ve been summoned to the new king. I think they wanted Master Eyan, but Eyan's not here and the summons was made out in the name of 'The Wizard of Portsan'. I've been ordered to the castle in his place.”
“Well, in that case, I'd best go with you.”
“With me?”
“With you, young Master Garin. Unless that toothpick propped up in the corner is just an old lump of wood like the burned mess on this table. But I reckon that's the staff of Eyan the Elder and if I follow that staff long enough it will lead me to the wizard himself. Am I right?”
“Yes…” Garin agreed hesitantly. He wasn’t sure that he should lead the young warrior to Mount Renga.
“Well there you are then. I'm honour-bound to pledge me undying allegiance to Wizard Eyan. So where it goes… so do I.”
“But…” Garin wondered how he could explain that it was a long way to go and he wasn’t really too sure of the way.
“Nothing you can do about it, young master. An oath's an oath and just as binding as any spell. Turn me into a frog if you like, but all that'll do is mean you'll have a frog dogging yer footsteps all the way to Kinlock instead of little old me.”
Garin let the subject drop. Obviously Drake was determined to go with him and the company would be welcome on such a long journey. He didn’t have much to pack, for the old clothes he had worn as an apprentice had mysteriously disappeared. There was only one spare robe, white of course, and a black cloak. He stuffed the robe into the backpack and then put in as many herbs and potions as he could safely carry. His magic was almost non-existent but his knowledge of herbs and essences may well come in useful.
