by GJ Kelly
For a moment, nothing happened, except that the bandit’s eyes widened in the horrible realisation that he’d made a very bad mistake. Then a great rushing wind seemed to blast through the trees, lifting the bandit clean off his feet and hurling him backwards through the air into the trees. The rusty sword shattered against the trunk of a great oak, and then the brigand himself slammed into a slender birch, and was pressed there by the force of the wind, ripping at his clothes and his hair. Then the wind was gone. The bandit fell to his knees, looked up at Garin in utter horror, and fled screaming into the woods as a great black and white bird swooped low over Garin’s head, and was gone.
Garin blinked, and looked at the staff in his hand. Tentatively, he tried touching the bare wood again. Again, he felt the sudden cold of rejection. Then he felt something sharp digging into his leg, in the pocket of his trousers. He reached in, and pulled out the worn feather he’d stuffed in there when he’d changed out of his old robe into these poor clothes. In the distance, he heard another screech, and thought he saw a bird speeding towards Mount Renga. With a gasp, he recognised the sound and the shape…Ignor!
Garin stuffed the feather back in his pocket, hastily slung the pack over his shoulder, and with Eyan’s staff clutched tightly by the cloth wrap, began running down the track. A sudden blind panic filled him. The bird was Wizard Kazar’s servant and messenger. There was surely no way that he, Garin, could have summoned that fearful wind with Eyan’s staff, not with the cloth wrapped around it. Wizard Kazar must be nearby, and with Ignor speeding towards Mount Renga, the evil wizard must be heading in that direction too!
Garin increased his pace, running as fast as he could. From behind him, he heard a cry, and a new fear filled him. It must be the bandit, recovered from the shock and chasing after him with murderous intent. Blood pounded in Garin’s ears, his breath seared his lungs, and he ran on, sweat pouring down his face as the cries from behind him drew nearer. It was incredible! How could that bandit be keeping up with him, let alone gaining on him? The man must be at least fifty summers, ancient compared to Garin!
Yet still the cries grew louder, until Garin began to recognise the shape of the words.
“Garin! Oy! Garin! Stop, by Cordak!”
Garin slowed and turned, dripping sweat and gasping for breath. There, on the track, bounding towards him, was Rydan Drake. And further behind, trying to keep up, Taya of Portsan. Garin sank to his knees, desperate for breath, letting the staff fall from his hands to rest on the grassy track beside him.
Drake, panting, collapsed in front of him moments later. “By Cordak you can run!” The big warrior grinned, his great chest heaving. “We been…we been chasing you…chasing you for miles!” Drake managed between great heaving gasps.
“Why?” Garin croaked back, as Taya sank to the ground a few paces away, sounding every bit as bad as her grandfather had when Garin had last visited.
“Tell you…in a minute.” Drake sighed, laying on his back and trying to catch his breath.
For a long time, the silence of the woodland was broken only by the breeze, birdsong, and the laboured breathing of the three young companions. When they caught their breath, Garin sat up, and took a long draught of water from a bottle handed to him by the warrior.
“So why were you chasing me?” Garin sighed.
“Cos you were running away,” Drake grumbled. “Why else?”
“No. Why are you here at all? I thought you were supposed to be off to get another crown for King Peiter.”
“We are!” Drake boomed. “That’s why we’re heading north like you. We were trying to catch up with you when we thought we heard someone cry out. So we just sort of looked at each other, and then hurried up a bit.”
“It was probably the bandit.” Garin said.
“Eh?” Drake suddenly sat up, keen and alert at the prospect of a battle. “Bandit? Where?”
“He’s long gone. I…” Garin paused, wondering to himself. “I must’ve frightened him off.”
Drake raised an eyebrow, and Taya sniffed. Garin could tell she wasn’t impressed.
“Young missy thought it might’ve been that big horrible bird that took such a fancy to you. Thought she saw it, too.”
“Ignor.”
“I’ve tried to, but to tell the truth, it’s very difficult to ignore the young missy, especially when she’s likely to turn you into a frog. Good job you took the twig with you, I reckon.”
“No, Ignor. Wizard Kazar’s magpie.” Garin sighed.
“Oh. Him. Or is it a her? It.”
Garin shook his head sadly. It was no good trying to tell them about the bandit. They wouldn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure himself any more. How could he have summoned the wind with Eyan’s staff? Not with the cloth wrapped around it.
“Anyway,” Drake continued. “Looks like it’s not farewell and g’bye after all!”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah well! We’re all set to leave, when suddenly it occurs to the young missy.”
Garin waited, while Drake beamed, idly chewing a blade of grass. “What?”
“Eh?”
“What occurred?”
“Ah!” Drake spat the grass out, and grinned sheepishly. “It, uhm, sort of occurred that we didn’t have a clue where we’d find a shiny new hat for the king.”
“Oh.” Garin mumbled. He vaguely recalled Eyan’s history lessons, and then suddenly he remembered them as clear as yesterday. “From the Forges of Firestone, on the shores of the river of molten rock that flows from the base of Mount Renga.”
“That’s what that chamberlain fellow said!” Drake gasped, suddenly impressed. “If you knew that, then why’d you leave without us, by Cordak! Anyone would think you didn’t want to travel with us any more, what with you running off like that and all!”
“I just remembered,” Garin sighed.
“Really,” Taya muttered, dragging herself to her feet.
“Yes, really,” Garin mumbled, and slid his pack onto his back before pulling himself up using Eyan’s staff.
Drake clambered up and shifted Felgardin into a more comfortable position over his shoulder. “Got a new crossbow off the Captain of the Guard!” he beamed, showing it proudly to Garin.
“That’s nice.”
“Yup. And I only had to threaten him the once, too!” Drake grinned, and as they trudged off along the track, he started whistling happily.
Garin smiled in spite of himself, as Taya stepped out and took the lead by her customary twenty paces. It was as though nothing had happened. But then he checked himself. Something had happened.
There was no sign of Wizard Kazar, or surely he’d have taken his revenge on Garin and the others in the woodland. Taya and Drake had been a long way away when the bandit had threatened Garin. Which meant only one thing, it must have been Garin that had summoned the wind, even with the cloth wrapped around the staff! Garin suddenly felt elated. If only Drake and Taya had been there to witness it! But then he realised that if Taya and Drake had been there, the bandit would probably have stayed hidden in the trees, waiting for another victim. No skinny and ancient bandit would have dared to step out from the safety of the woods to face Rydan Drake.
And then there was Wizard Kazar’s bird. But the more Garin thought about it, the less convinced he became. Magpies were common around Kinlock. Maybe it hadn’t been Ignor at all on the track. Maybe. As he walked, using Eyan’s staff as a walking-stick, he desperately tried to make some sense of everything that had happened over the last few days.
Surely it had been him who’d blasted the bars from the cell in the dungeon. The feather couldn’t possibly possess any kind of magic of its own. He remembered distinctly how he’d thrust it at the bars, the symbols and chants racing through his mind as the rage and shame boiled within him. As Drake continued whistling happily and Taya strode ever onward ahead of them, Garin remembered the anger and outrage when the bandit had attacked. In the dungeon outside Kinlock, his anger had been hot
and boiling. Lightning had blasted the bars from the stone. In the woods, his anger was an ice-cold rage, and a great blast of cold wind had flung the bandit into the trees…
The more he thought about it, the more he remembered more clearly. At Kinlock Castle, at the coronation, he’d succeeded in summoning the wind against Wizard Kazar. He’d missed of course, but still, he hadn’t been truly angry. Not until that spiteful bird Ignor had attacked, drawing blood, and not until he’d seen Taya felled by Wizard Kazar, and the evil wizard about to cause her serious harm. Then his blood had boiled, and it was then that the blue flame had lanced from Eyan’s staff…
But he hadn’t been holding the staff at the time. Taya had. No lightning had blasted from the miserable feather he’d been holding, waving it like an idiot in front of five hundred people and the king…
“You’re quiet!” Drake boomed happily.
“I was thinking,” Garin muttered. He’d been thinking so hard, his head was beginning to ache.
“Ah. Not one of my strong points I’m afraid,” Drake admitted with a smile. “Now, the young missy, there’s a different kettle of fish.”
“How do you mean?” Garin asked.
“Up there. She’s been all quiet since the king commanded her to fetch him a new hat. Wonder what she’s been thinking about?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“I did, about an hour before we saw you disappearing into the distance. You can run, you know!”
“I know.”
“Me too. Thought I’d never catch you up! If it weren’t for this heaving great lump of mashed metal in me pack, I might’ve caught you earlier.”
“You’re carrying the Crown of Kings?”
“Aye. What’s left of it. Couldn’t expect anyone to stick this on his head. Couldn’t expect the lass to carry it either. Didn’t know gold and such would weigh so much.”
“Oh. What did she say?”
“Not so much as a ‘thank you’, actually.” Drake frowned. “But then she’s like that I reckon. I expect it comes from all that thinking she does.”
“I meant, what did she say when you asked her what she was thinking about.”
“Oh. That. Actually, she didn’t say anything. Just did that little huffing noise she makes, and stomped off. My fault, probably.”
“You were only asking.”
“Nah well. I should know when to keep me mouth shut. My Pa keeps telling me that. I should know when to keep me mouth shut, he says. See, her eyes was all red this morning. I reckon she’d been crying in the night.”
“Probably thinking about her family in Portsan.”
“Aye. Probably. Or how she’s a wizard, and didn’t know it. Must’ve come as a shock. Did to me, too, by Cordak. There I was, worried that you might turn me into a frog!”
“She’s not a wizard, Drake. I’d know.”
Drake raised an eyebrow.
“Master Eyan would have known.”
“Oh. Well, like I said to her last night. There’s a king and five hundred people saw her fry the king’s hat and his nice red chair, and use Wizard Kazar’s head as a drum with that twig of yer old master’s. Can’t argue much with that.”
Garin sighed, and as they trudged on, with Mount Renga never seeming to come any closer, he slid a finger off the cloth wrap to touch Eyan’s staff. It rejected his touch, just as it always had.
They slept in the woods, shivering under their cloaks in spite of the fire that Drake made using flint and steel. Both Garin and Taya had completely ignored Drake’s suggestion that making fire was wizard’s work.
And that was how they journeyed for several days. Mostly in silence, except for Drake’s cheerful whistling, and even that was stilled when the rains came. They saw no-one on the lonely northern track, for which Garin was grateful. Once, while they’d paused to eat a mid-day meal, Taya grumbled about the king not giving them horses to speed their journey. Garin and Drake exchanged a glance that said they’d both rather walk barefoot than sit on a horse again.
Early evening brought them out of the woods and Taya suddenly cried out, and fell to her knees. Drake and Garin rushed up to her, wondering what was wrong, fearing that the cold and the rain had made her ill.
“What is it, missy?” Drake gasped, holding her shoulders and staring at her wide-eyed. Garin couldn’t tell if it was rain of tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Look,” she sighed, and pointed.
Drake and Garin’s gaze followed her finger.
“Ah, by Cordak! What’ll we do now?”
oOo
-10-
“We’ll just have to move it,” Garin sighed, his wet clothes clinging like a second skin.
“How?” Taya muttered. “Look at the size of it!”
“You’re the wizard, why don’t you just fry it like you did half of Kinlock?” Drake grunted.
“I am not a wizard!” Taya shouted through a rumbling of thunder.
Garin slipped his pack off his shoulders. It was getting lighter every day as the food it contained was consumed.
Just below them, the ground dipped to a deep river gorge, which ran like a great gash in the earth from east to west across their path. A stone bridge, narrow and old, its flagstones worn smooth by countless years of wind and rain, spanned the gorge, which looked to be about a hundred feet across and three times as deep.
“Aye, we’ll not be jumping over that,” Drake grumbled, throwing stones out into the air and watching them fall to the river Ibar far below them. Foaming whitecaps raced along on the flow, the river made swollen and angry by the incessant rains.
On their side of the bridge, blocking it completely, was a massive boulder. Garin studied the huge stone, and wondered how it came to be here. It looked to be granite, like Mount Renga looming above them to the north. But there was no granite here, and the bridge was made of the same local white limestone that jutted out of the soft earth around them. Worse, the boulder was smooth and round, like a giant ball, almost perfectly formed. It simply wasn’t natural.
“Ah well. Let’s get this moved,” Drake muttered, and leaned his back against the boulder, legs straining.
“Not like that!” Taya huffed. “What kind of idiot are you?”
“A strong one, I hope,” Drake grunted, and then stopped shoving at the massive rock. “How else d’you expect me to move it?”
“If you keep pushing it that way, warrior,” Taya hissed, “It’ll end up on the bridge! And its weight will probably bring the bridge down into the river!”
“Oh.” Drake looked sheepish, realising she was right.
“If you’re going to try to heave it out of the way, shove it sideways!”
“We could climb over it,” Garin muttered.
“It’s too round. There’s nothing to get a hold of. Can’t you just blast it, Taya? Maybe if Garin loaned you his master’s twig again?” Drake suggested.
Taya’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I. Am. Not. A. Wizard!” she hissed. “Try using your brains instead of your muscles!”
“Ah well, I would if I had any,” Drake grinned disarmingly. “But like my Pa always told me. ‘Son,’ he says, ‘you leave things like thinking to those that can do it, and concentrate on what you’re best at.’ And who am I to argue with my Pa? No-one, that’s who.”
“Maybe there’s another bridge, further up the gorge, or down?” Garin wondered aloud.
“Not that I can see,” Drake grunted, eyeing the gorge left and right. “Like Taya said the other day, a pity the king didn’t give us some horses. They might be able to pull this froggling great thing out of the way.”
“But he didn’t,” Taya sighed impatiently. “Did he?”
“Nope.”
“Well then. I’ve got to get to Mount Renga, find this forge, get a new crown made, and get back to Kinlock in the next three weeks, in case you’d forgotten,” Taya ranted. “And I’m stuck with an idiot and the wizard’s walking-stick.”
“Hah!” Drake cried. “Hah! See! You
solved our problem just by thinking out loud!”
“How?” Garin queried.
“The twig! I can use the twig as a lever to help shove this pebble out of the way! By Cordak, young missy, you’ve a brain!”
Garin looked at the boulder, which stood at least twice as tall as the young warrior who posed, arms folded and beaming triumphantly, in front of it. Then he eyed Master Eyan’s withered elf-tree staff.
“No way,” Garin announced. “It’d snap like a dry twig.”
“It is a dry twig,” Drake mumbled. “But it clobbered that Wizard Kazar a good one on the noggin without breaking.”
“No way,” Garin declared again, gripping it firmly.
“He’s right,” Taya said petulantly, nodding her head at Garin but not looking him in the eye. “The staff’s too old and fragile. It’d never work.”
“Won’t know until we try,” Drake mumbled, crestfallen.
“We’ll just have to go back to the woods,” Garin sighed.
“Eh? What for?” Drake asked, wiping the drizzle from his eyes and looking confused.
“You can use your sword, cut down a sapling or a small tree, and use that to shift the boulder,” Garin explained.
“We’d lose half a day at least,” Taya protested.
“Hah!” Drake cried delightedly. “Hah! By Cordak, young Garin, you’ve a brain!”
“Thank you,” Garin muttered.
“I can use Felgardin!” And with that, the warrior drew the massive four-foot blade from over his shoulder, and held it aloft.
“You’re going to use your sword?”
“It was made by the elves!” Drake announced, waving the blued steel like a feather-duster. “It’s unbreakable!”
“Wait though…” Garin began, but it was too late.
Drake shoved the point of Felgardin under the boulder and into the earth, pressed his shoulder against the smooth surface of the rock, and began to heave with all his considerable strength, pulling up on the sword as he did so.
At first, nothing happened.
“Drake. Stop!” Garin cried, .
