Diary of a Conjurer

by D. L. Gardner

  The boy nodded, his blue eyes wide with fear and awe.

  “It was in the crack of that rock that Meneka turned into a fire-breathing dragon. He saved us from the evil of the East. And his magic still hovers deep in the caverns of the mountain. He’s to be feared. Revered. We follow his will, young man, and call him master. And your children will, too. He made the village of Menek what it is today.”

  Tale of the Four Wizards

  Kaempie

  The Cove

  “Get down, Meneka. They’ll kill you.” Kaempie reached for his bow but it slid from his grasp. With a sudden tip of the skiff and a splash, Meneka was in the water, leaving Kaempie to contend with the onslaught of arrows shooting his way. He scooted onto the seat and picked up the oars. His muscles tight, his body pumping fiercely, the skiff caught the western current and skated along the coast, past the bluff, and out of sight of their enemy.

  The voices of his attackers faded into the sound of rolling waves as his boat rode the breakers into a cove and skidded to a halt in the sand. Kaempie jumped out and pulled the weathered vessel higher up the beach. The shadows of the tall stone cliffs surrounding him chilled the already damp air. He shivered more at the thought of what might have happened to his friends than from the cold.

  Taking a breath, Kaempie looked out to sea. Far away, somewhere in that forested horizon on the Bandene coast, were Silvio and Reuben, the two wizards that had set out from Taikus with him and Meneka the night before. They were supposed to have stayed together. But in the dark of night, fool-hearty Meneka launched the boat in high tide, and Kaempie almost drowned in his attempt to bring the boy back to shore. Instead of rescuing Meneka, the lad rescued him. The stormy sea and heavy fog prevented their return.

  What was worse, Meneka, in his pestilent anger, dove into the water and swam directly toward the tribe of natives attempting to kill them. Now he was gone.

  “Fool,” Kaempie kicked at the sand, tossing the bowline into the skiff. He retrieved his bow and quiver from the boat and slung them on his back, intending to find the young conjurer and rescue him; that is, if he weren’t already dead.

  Too tired to swim, his shoulders sank as he watched the surf beat against the towering rocks that sent splashes of foam high into the air. To find Meneka, he’d have to climb over the cliffs and approach the village by land.

  Kaempie realized how preposterous the feat would be once he stood at the bottom of the butte, eyeing its vertical incline. No stubble or brush or rock could be grabbed in order to lift his body any distance toward the summit. The face of the point was coarse from mussels and would easily tear at his hands. Starfish, crab, and poisonous anemone lingered in the jagged pools at his feet. Even a wizard’s strength has its bounds. Climbing over this point to get to the other side would be impossible. He’d have to find another way. A trail, if there were one, that lead into the forest, over the hills and down into the village. That would be his only hope.

  Kaempie walked the shoreline, searching for a way up the bank. It wasn't until he discovered a split in the cliff that his hopes were renewed. A shallow creek tumbled over the rocky crevice and spread out onto the beach, wetting his toes, eroding the sand, and meandering to the sea. He followed the stream uphill, climbing huge boulders, and jagged rock. Once on higher ground, Kaempie located a deer trail that followed the creek through the forest. The hiking eased when he reached flatter, softer ground, affording him a rest. Maple leaves gilded the mulch under his feet with reds and gold hues.

  The musty scent of mushroom and pine brought memories of his younger days on Taikus when he’d foraged with his sisters in the woods. His countenance softened when he thought of his family- five sisters in all, full of life and laughter. He'd give anything to be back with them again. They and their mother had been in his charge after his father died. Taking care of them had become his purpose for living. He was only now beginning to accept that he may never return to his homeland again. His mother had rushed him to the beach just as the sun was setting the night before. Thinking they were going to the halls of Telamande for his initiation, he was shocked when she guided him through the alley to the boat. Even more distressing was his meeting with Reuben and Lelanie in the moonlight, the rushed plans of the wizards’ journey, and the fact that they were to take the two younger conjurers with them. With no idea where they were headed, they shoved their little skiff, a meager supply of food and weapons, into the dark and lonely waters.

  Kaempie cupped his hands and drank from the clear, cold brook. The spring water refreshed him, yet weariness lingered. He sat on the damp leaves and rested, thinking he heard his sisters' voices singing as if in the rushing sound of the creek.

  The goodness in your breath is gold

  Just like the westward wind that blows

  Home, family, and a time much sweeter than now, filled his memory. His sisters loved singing to him. How gentle their voices were, like the breeze that lifted his hair and cooled his cheeks.

  A yearning in our heart beats true

  Needing to be one with you.

  He opened his eyes and listened more intently.

  “You’re not my sisters,” he said to the voice. A breeze whisked leaves into the air and dropped them on his sandy hair. He laughed as he brushed them away. I guess it could be the little sorceresses! They do like to tease!

  Stay on with your journey; stay on with your flight

  You friend needs your watching deep in the night

  When duty is filled and Meneka is saved

  The queen is expelled, her ship in its grave

  Sing songs of gratitude, hymns of delight.

  Then lay down your powers in exchange for our might.

  What an odd song, not at all like the magic incantations of the sorceresses, he thought. There’s no evil in the music- haunting, but not evil. And the lyrics mention Meneka, as though he could be rescued.

  Kaempie stood and brushed himself free of dirt. Though he continued his journey, he wondered if the song he heard was prophetic. His father had told him about the North Wind and the strange songs that floated on its breath. On rare occasion, prophetic murmurings had been heard by Taikan wizards who found themselves near the mountain. If this song were prophetic, then with whom would I be trading my powers? What a bold thing to ask of a wizard! Don't the North Winds know a wizard is nothing without his powers?

  He shuddered, thinking about the wizards he had seen at home who had been stripped of their magic and had lived through the process. Youths grown old before their time - useless and despondent.

  He scanned his surroundings, looking for an enemy, not sure what to think The song could be a trick. Hacatine’s sorcery.

  Kaempie continued to follow the creek up a series of switchbacks and along deer trails that meandered northwest. He came to a summit that overlooked the ocean for miles to the south and southwest. The village to the east was still hidden from view.

  It was midday and the sun had dried the morning dew, leaving crisp smells of evergreen. He wasn’t accustomed to thin mountain air, and the anxiety in his heart added to his pulse rate.

  I hope it isn't too late to save him. If only I knew for sure. I could apply magic, try to see beyond, to see where Meneka is, whether or not Silvio and Reuben are safe... But no. Looking into the future's too much like sorcery, against all those years of training with papa. ‘Seek wisdom’, he said, ‘and use magic for more practical applications, like healing.’

  On Taikus, Kaempie had been given the title The Healer among his circle of friends. He took pride in concentrating his efforts and using his magic to help people. It was that very skill that Hacatine coveted.

  No. I'll stay true to myself.

  With that decision, he turned again to the east, and as he stepped into the creek to cross it, a snap sounded in the woods, jolting his attention. Before he could string his bow, a sudden force knocked him down. A pool of blood reddened the stream he fell in. The pain came from his calf, where the handle to a knife p
rotruded from his deerskin pants. When Kaempie bent over to wrench the weapon from his leg, three men pulled him from the creek and dragged him to shore, stripping the bow and quiver off his back.

  Two of his assailants pinned him on the rocky ground, holding his arms and legs. Murder must have been in their hearts, for one of the men pulled a knife from his belt and raised it high his sun burned face gaunt, whiskered and unkempt. His smell was that of wild animal. He wore no shirt. His knee dug into Kaempie’s stomach as he gathered his strength to strike, but the wizard was quick with his magic. In an instant, a dust of green shot out from Kaempie’s eyes into his attacker’s face.

  The man dropped his weapon as he jumped to his feet, screaming in pain as he attempted to brush away the hot embers that had seared his flesh. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. A stream of fiery dust circled the others. They released Kaempie's limbs and dodged into the woods, taking the wizard’s weapons with them. The lone assailant’s face scarred and oozed from the burns. He backed away.

  Kaempie sat up and worked the knife out of his leg, rolled up his pant and held his hand over the wound. Immediately the bleeding ceased, the puncture wound healed.

  The man’s dark eyes grew wide. With his mouth agape, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

  Kaempie listened but there was no other sound. He now possessed the man’s knife, but this small blade would never compensate for the loss of his bow and arrows. Enchanted hands made Taikan weapons. Though the arrows didn’t carry the actual magic, the thoughts that drove them did. Kaempie would not be able to rescue Meneka without them. However, in the hands of these barbaric men, the lightweight and narrow shafts would be useless. The arrows could, in fact, turn against the thieves. Legend tell of odd things happening to people who tried to use Taikan weapons without the owner’s permission.

  With caution, Kaempie crawled from the creek side and made his way silently into the woods, crouched low and keeping an attentive ear. A hunter by nature, he knew how to step softly on the ground and sniff out his prey. It didn’t take long for him to smell his attackers, for their stench was unnatural to the forest, reeking of body sweat and foul breath.

  Huddled in a thicket of young aspen trees, they whispered in a foreign language, their voices too low to understand. The stolen items lay in the dirt at their feet. Kaempie’s first inclination was to burst into their midst and take back what was his. But though his leg was healed, the memory of the pain he had just endured changed his mind.

  Their voices grew in volume, allowing Kaempie's wizardry to interpret their ranting.

  “You get us back home, then,” the man who had stabbed Kaempie said. He was bent over, covering his face.

  “It’s a portal, I tell you, Hermaz. There’s no going back,” the quietest of the three mumbled, his fingers running over Kaempie’s bow in silent admiration.

  “We’re doomed then, Jacques. If it’s a portal, there’s no way home,” Hermaz stood, kicking the ground. “The gods have damned us. No food and no way to get any. We’re going to die.”

  “There’s meat on the island,” the murderer spat and wiped his mouth. “I can smell it.”

  “It’s your blasted own body you smell.”

  “We’ll take this bow and use it to kill something.”

  Though Kaempie watched silently in secret, his temper flared when the murderer grabbed one of the arrows.

  “What do you know about shooting a bow? Nothing. You’ve never shot a bow in your life.” Hermaz accused.

  “There’s time to learn. Plenty of time.” He grabbed the bow from Jacques and stood. Drawing the string taut, he aimed at the trunk of an aspen. The pull was weak, the fletching tight in his fingers, and when he released, the arrow floated to the ground.

  The sight was too humorous not to laugh. Kaempie’s chuckle caught their attention and they turned toward the brush where he hid. Shaking his head, the wizard stepped out of his camouflage toward the three. “Lay down your anger. If you needed help, you should have asked. I’m not a threat. If you need food, I know how to use that bow.”

  Hermaz pulled his knife from his belt, his tan muscles twitching for a fight. Kaempie scowled, grabbing hold of the hilt on his own knife.

  The murderer came forward, slapping Hermaz’ arm as he passed. “Let me handle him,” he said. He stared intently at the wizard as he gestured to the blisters that swelled around his eyes and the raw skin that hung loose from his cheeks. His face was flushed from heat. “I should kill you for this.”

  “If you hadn’t attacked, I wouldn’t have harmed you.” Kaempie said quietly. “I’ll heal you, but I need you to return my bow and arrows.”

  The man held up his knife. “What if I choose not to?”

  Kaempie shrugged. “There’s more fire where that came from. You’d better be fast.” He pulled his own knife from his waist.

  “What are you doing Armel? Let him heal you. Maybe he can find us some food. Kill him later if you have to.”

  Armel glanced briefly at Jacques.

  “Let him fix you. Good gramman.” Jacques was a younger man. Even with the filth that coated his face, Kaempie saw that his skin was smooth, his chin lacked whiskers, and there were no lines that creased his forehead.

  Only the breeze whispering in the topmost branches of the trees interrupted the silence as Kaempie waited for Armel’s decision. The onlookers’ gaze darted between the opponents. Kaempie wondered what they would do if the murderer chose to attack.

  After a long moment, Armel tossed his knife in the air and caught it by the handle. “Do it, then,” he said. His tone hinted humiliation, but he stuck his blade into his pants, the handle turned to a readied position. “Heal me, then. I saw you mend your leg. Fix me.”

  Kaempie stepped forward cautiously as the two friends backed away. Armel stood his ground, his grimace deepened as the wizard came nearer. When Kaempie reached out, the man jolted back.

  “I have to touch you,” Kaempie whispered and then put one hand on the top of Armel’s thick, matted hair, the other on his chin. As the magic stirred from the wizard’s fingertips into the man’s flesh he moved his palms across Armel’s cheeks and over his eyes.

  Armel sighed when Kaempie released his hold. The sores were gone.

  With trembling hands, he touched his face, and blinked. But when his eyes met Kaempie's, he frowned. “Don’t expect a thank you,” the man said, his lips twisting into a sneer. “You’re the one that burned me.”

  Kaempie nodded. “Indeed. And don’t forget.”

  Armel spat.

  Kaempie had enough of the man's despise. He stooped to pick up his bow, but Armel immediately put his boot on Kaempie’s hand, pinning both to the ground.

  “C’mon Armel, let him loose. He could do us good. He did you a favor.” Jacques said with a quivering voice.

  “I haven’t seen any favors yet.”

  Still kneeling next to his weapons, Kaempie fixed his eyes on Armel’s boot. I could annihilate you. The stench of burning leather seeped into the air. Armel jerked away.

  “You foul beast,” he said, his boot aflame. Stomping the fire out, he drew his knife.

  In an instant, the wizard bolted up and parried the man’s thrust. The heat of Kaempie’s hand burned Armel’s wrist, causing him to drop his weapon. The two wrestled for only a moment before Kaempie had him flat on the ground, knee in his ribcage. “I will not heal you again,” Kaempie warned as he held the man's arms. “From now on, any wounds you get, either from me or from the forces around us, will be yours to contend with.”

  Releasing Armel, Kaempie picked up his bow and quiver, gave Jacques and Hermaz each a warning look, and then began his walk back toward the creek.

  “Wait.” It was the young one, Jacques, that called him. “Don’t go. Help us. Please!”

  Kaempie stopped and turned to face him.

  “If you can find food for us, we’ll protect you from this fool.” Though Hermaz had stayed in the shadows up until now
, keeping his opinion to himself, he echoed Jacques’ request.

  Kaempie glanced at Armel on the ground. The man held his inflamed hand, his head bowed. Perhaps he’s had enough pain. Perhaps he’ll relent.

  As he pondered what to do, a breeze jostled the golden leafs at their feet, the sound of which sparked Kaempie's attention. On it, he caught the musty smell of a deer. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, stepped toward the scent, and when he saw the rack of a buck peeking through the trees, he shot. The deer fell. Jacques and Hermaz raced to Kaempie’s side.

  “Butcher it and cook yourselves some dinner.” Kaempie said. “Wrap the rest of the meat in its hide and bury it in the coals to roast, and then come with me. I need your help.”

  Pursuit

  It may not have been wise, bringing these renegades along with him to find Meneka. But Kaempie had a deep desire to learn who they were and where they came from. Leaving Armel behind him didn't seem like a good idea, either. Jacques and Hermaz were friendly enough, but Armel carried bitterness. Kaempie would just as soon keep the man by his side rather than have him sneaking in the bushes behind his back.

  In addition, the mention of a portal roused his curiosity.

  Weighed down with bedrolls and packs filled with supplies from their ship, the men trudged alongside the wizard.

  “So who is this person we’re set out to rescue? Is he a wizard, too?” Jacques had made a point of keeping step with Kaempie, stirring up conversation whenever he could think of something to ask.