Diary of a Conjurer

by D. L. Gardner

  Silvio stood stunned.

  Silvio and the Queen of Taikus

  “He made a mockery of wizardry? The nerve! Weren’t for that song I’d leave him to his devilry! Bah!”

  It was an old song, a melody that had echoed through Alcove forest many years ago, this time with new lyrics that boiled Silvio’s blood. Not only did it convict Silvio against deserting the youth, but also it confirmed who Ivar was.

  Oh woe to the loss of the young man fair

  Whose dreams float away on the midnight air?

  Who found his hope in the dragon’s lair?

  Though the dagger is gone

  Its spirit lives on

  The Beloved lays prey, to the ancient of days.

  Give strength to the youth so far from home.

  Give strength to the youth so far from home.

  “Give him what? Bah! A tiny bit of magic is all I have and I’ll not pass it on to the likes of him!” Silvio shook his fist in the air, angry with the Northern Wind and its song. “He made a mockery of magic. I’ll not give it to him! I won’t!” He turned his back to the sea, cutting short any further conversation with the wind. He mumbled to himself as he walked through the moonlit sand dunes, kicking up shells and granules with his toes.

  “I’ll not be listening to your voice. Fool idea, making Ivar my apprentice. Not right at all. Sing to some other fool. The boy’s a rascal. A scallywag I tell you. The powers of a conjurer would be peril in his hands. “The old man shivered more from his hot temper than the cold. “Not wind to listen to, even if the Kaemperns did declare you wise. No accounting for that little miscreant. You could be wrong you know!”

  Silvio had retreated to the beach earlier that evening seeking solitude after Ivar had fallen asleep. Now, after hearing the songs and rejecting their meaning, he began his lonely walk back to the campsite. The moon was full. The sands glowed blue in its light, the air warm and breezy. The only sound was the constant rumble of the sea, until branches snapped behind him. Bent and unable to move quickly, he turned around, unprepared for the surprise that waited.

  An arm hooked his neck, pulling him off balance. Silvio’s legs crumbled under him. His attacker held him upright. A blade slid dangerously close to his throat as a body pressed against him from behind. The moon backlit the form a woman dressed in black as she stepped out of the reeds He recognized her immediately. She threw her head back and laughed.

  “Well, if it isn’t the exiled Silvio du Bontantus. That green film that rushes through your veins could hardly be mistaken. Wherever have you been? I’ve been looking for you for at least a hundred years.”

  The person’s grip on him was so tight Silvio was unable to speak. He could hardly breathe.

  Hacatine’s irises were dull in the night, and her face pale like white silk. Her high cheekbones revealed her hardness, and her long silver hair, whiter than Silvio’s, danced briskly in the breeze. “I’m on a mission, Conjurer, and I’m quite certain you can help me.” She moved closer.

  Silvio closed his eyes as tight as he could. This could be his end but she won’t get what she wants. He may not be a match for her, but there is still a way to keep her from stealing his magic. He could transfer his wizardry to someone else as long as that person was visible his mind, and he could see Ivar sleeping by the campfire. Magic stirred inside him as it coagulated in his blood.

  “I’ve heard that my dagger may be on Deception Peak, the mountain those obnoxious Kaemperns guard with their silly little wind chimes. Word has it that you’ve been a spy for those men all these long years.” She touched his hair, combing it away from his face. Her voice was breathy as she leaned near his ear. Her perfume reminded him of everything he ever despised. Everyone on Taikus knew how she made the fragrance, crushed from lilacs steeped with fermented bones. He spat, unable to contain his hate. She laughed.

  “My forest fire wasn’t enough to flush you out when you were a lad, was it Silvio? You were too smart for me, weren’t you?” Stepping back, she laughed. “But see, I should have been more patient. Look how easily you fell into my hands.” She grabbed his arm above his bony elbow and shook it. “But frankly, Silvio, I’m disappointed in the lack of care you’ve taken. You were so young and strong when you left your mother, and now look at you, old and crooked–and worthless.” She bent over and breathed on his face again, signaling the warrior woman who clenched the knife at his throat to relax her hold. “Why if I didn’t know better, I’d say your mother is younger than you are! Look at me,” she took his chin in her hand; her daggered nails cut his skin. Silvio shut his eyes even tighter and turned his head in defiance. The warrior stepped away so abruptly Silvio fell backward, but caught himself before he hit the ground.

  “Open your eyes, Silvio. Let me take your burden from you. You don’t need that magic anymore. It will do you no good in the dungeon.”

  Though his eyes were still closed, the conjurer found his bearings by the sound of the sea and turned his head in the direction of his camp. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. From their sockets he shot forth a bolt of green dust. A flash like lightning raced to where Ivar was sleeping. Silvio watched his magic disappear into the dark. No time for remorse, in a split second it was gone.

  “What did you do?” Hacatine shrieked and jumped away.

  He sighed and looked at the sorceress queen. You will never know.

  “No matter. I will have time for harvesting your power. You’re my prisoner now and will be until you tell me everything you know, including where my dagger is.”

  Silvio dusted his beard. Drained of strength, he looked sheepishly at the women who encircled him. “I’m afraid I don’t have a lot to tell. I haven’t seen your dagger.”

  Hacatine laughed and motioned for her guards to take him.

  The Warrior, Promise

  Ivar slept part of the night, but woke shivering as the fog rolled in. His clothes and bedding were damp, and what glowed in the fire pit were only a few embers emitting a billowing cloud of smoke. He reached for a branch of driftwood to stir the coals, and then laid the stick on the fire, scooting closer to the flame, warming his chilled body. Once he was warm enough to stop shaking, he looked around the camp and realized Silvio’s bed was empty. “Silvio?” he whispered. He stepped past the campfire and peered into the dark. “Hey, old man, you out there?”

  There was no answer, no sound other than the bells of Skerry clanging in time with the rise and fall of the rolling sea. They seemed closer than they had been. Either the tide was coming in, or the fog drove their song closer to the earth, or both.

  “Silvio?” Ivar repeated, this time worried. Why would the old man suddenly up and leave him? He thought they had become friends?

  “He’s not here.”

  That voice! Ivar spun around. He should have expected a visitor, what with the ship mooring offshore and Silvio’s constant warnings. But when the woman stepped forward his jaw dropped in surprise. It wasn’t the silver queen. It was the statue. The pretty woman. Promise.

  Her auburn hair flowed in waves over her shoulders as she pulled her furs snug to her neck. Her eyes were large, dark; her skin bronze in the firelight. “It’s damp tonight, damp and cold.” A subtle smile crossed her face.

  Ivar feasted his eyes on her beauty, charmed by some sinister spell. “You–you’re not a statue anymore?” An awkward question Ivar wished he hadn’t asked. He had little experience talking to a woman, and he had no idea what to say to one who had held him prisoner. “I should probably know this, but I just wanted to make sure. Were you the one who pulled me out of the ocean?”

  “I launched our skiff just as Hacatine went into the cabin. I knew she was going to have you thrown overboard; she’s so superstitious about the North Wind. The Songs shipwrecked her once before, you know.”

  “No. I didn’t know that.” Ivar felt vulnerable being so indebted to her. He felt he was turning into soft clay ready for molding. when he looked at her. “Why did you do that? Why did you rescue
me? I mean I was your prisoner as much as I was hers. Why did you save me? Wasn’t that kind of risky for you?”

  She laughed, a note of cynicism in her tone. “You’d be of no use to anyone dead.”

  Wood from the fire popped, sending a hot ember spiraling into the space between them. “Oh.” Ivar had hoped there was more to the rescue than just stashing him away for future use. “Well then, thanks, and I guess the old man was right.”

  Her brown eyes widened. “What old man?”

  Ivar snickered. He wasted his time sleeping. He should have stayed awake and made a bow and arrow, or at least carved a point on a stick that he could use for a spear. Enemies seemed to sneak around every bush on this side of the ocean. “So! Did Hacatine follow you here?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” The muscles around his mouth tightened and his tongue found the gap between his teeth. “What’s your plan then, to tie me up and torture me? Eat my soul?”

  “What would stop me?”

  He had no weapon and she had already proven how much stronger she was when she wrestled him on the ship. There probably wasn’t anything he could do to stop her aside from running. He was fast. “The Northwind, maybe?” He hoped.

  He cleared his throat, glancing first at the fire before he met her eyes again. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me because I’ve done nothing to you or to your queen.” He held his arms out in innocence. “I have nothing for you.”

  Her laughter broke the tension and she spoke softly. “I wasn’t really looking for you when I stumbled on your campfire, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She glanced over her shoulder at the shadows, toward the sea. “But I saw her skiff come in, and I knew if she found out I rescued you, she’d chain me up and enslave me. She’d strip me of my powers like she does the wizards.” She gave Ivar a pathetic glance but he hesitated to give her the sympathy she seemed to be asking for. “And yes, I’m not a statue anymore, but I would like to know who cast a spell on me. It couldn’t have been you; you were nothing but a pile of flotsam when I laid you on the beach. What happened?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “How could I? I was frozen. But I do know that only wizards have the ability to freeze people.” The golden light from the fire lit her eyes, her hair, and her cheekbones as she tossed her head. “I know you’re not a wizard. Who were you with? What old man?”

  Ivar swallowed, not sure he wanted to give Silvio’s identity away.

  “You’re afraid to tell me?”

  “I’m not afraid.” He smiled as he always did when he was nervous. “Why should I be afraid? What can you do to me?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Her retort was quick, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t dare me!”

  He shrugged and his grin grew wider.

  She snickered and looked at the flames, but his stare remained steady. She faced him again and returned his smile for a brief second. She had dimples.

  “You’re a man, not a wizard. My power could cremate you in a second”

  “What’s stopping you?” His courage surprised even himself. “If you want me dead, why wait?”

  “I’m not so sure I want you dead.” After a moment of exchanging glances, her brow narrowed. “You also have power.”

  Ivar held his hands out in surrender. “No.” he said. He had no powers that he knew about. In fact, he was pretty much devoid of anything. He had no food, no water, no shoes, no weapon, and he wouldn’t even have a tunic if Silvio hadn’t given him one.

  “I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you.”

  Ivar continue to grin. He had no idea what she was talking about.

  Then she did something that threw him off completely. She spoke in another language. “Vous n'êtes pas de ce monde.”

  Ivar’ smile disappeared, thinking she was casting a spell he took a step backward. “What did you say?”

  “Vous n'êtes pas de ce monde.”

  He shook his head, but it was a lie. He did know what she said. “You are not of this world.” Why could he understand her? The words felt like ice melting his insides. How could she possibly know he’s not from this world?

  Stillness was without quiet. The breakers on the beach rumbled a constant reminder of the power of the universe. The fog rolled over their heads, kissing their hair, leaving drops of dew on their clothes, carrying bits and pieces of the moon’s light as it traveled into the forest.

  She whispered the foreign words again.

  “Where then?” He choked on the utterance, struggling to accept the fact that he was someone else. That he wasn’t a Kaempern. That he had another origin, probably another name. That the world he knew was both dying and being born at the same time. “Then where do I come from?” he asked again, this time so softly he wasn’t sure the words parted from his lips.

  “I can’t see the answer to your question. I can only see a curious void.”

  Ivar shook his hair and combed it with his hands, hoping he could wake himself from this illusion. He surveyed the camp, noting Silvio’s empty bed again, this time with concern, and a bit of heartache. “Where is Silvio?”

  “Silvio?”

  “My friend. Where is he?” Fear mounted in his heart for he sensed he was now on dangerous ground. The woman speaking a language foreign yet recognizable to him unraveled his senses. He needed to hang on to something solid, even if it was just an old man who seemed to care for his protection. “Did you do something to him? Because he was sleeping right there. He wouldn’t just up and leave me.”

  Promise stepped back from the fire, but she didn’t answer him. He paced around the campsite, walking into the dark, and calling Silvio’s name. “You did something to him!”

  “Not I.”

  “Who then?”

  She sighed, “Is your friend a wizard?”

  His nervousness betrayed his secret.

  She laughed. “You’re too honest for a devil. Your friend is a wizard.”

  “I’m not a devil,” Ivar snapped. He may not be a Kaempern, but he wasn’t wicked.

  “And look, he’s gone.” Promise nodded toward his bed.

  Ivar panicked. He may have taunted the old man, and argued with him, but he had taken a liking to him as well. “Where?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Where did he go? Is he lost?”

  She said nothing.

  His heart beat harder as his imagination soared. “Did something happen to him? Hacatine? The witch! She followed you?”

  Ivar raced for his canteen and a blanket.

  “No. I don’t know,” Promise called to him as he ran into the dark.

  Slipping Away

  Ivar frantically searched the beach for footprints. He stumbled upon a row of concave imprints in the sand, though the night shadows made it difficult to determine if they were really tracks at all. The shallow marks led him along the shoreline and then into the brush of weeds that met the forest. However, the woodland floor showed no broken branches or disturbance of any kind. If these were Silvio’s footprints at the forest edge, then the wizard had vanished into thin air. Either that or he had met up with someone.

  Marks were everywhere in the sand behind him, so he backtracked again to the dunes. Not a stranger to tracking, he was, after all one of Kaempern’s best hunters. Those were Amleth’s words. So why was finding Silvio so difficult? Did the old wizard get captured by Hacatine?

  Ivar stood still and listened, hoping to hear breathing or some other sign that Silvio was near and alive. Maybe the abductors merely knocked him out and left him in the woods. From all that Silvio had told him about the sorceress queen, that was unlikely. If Hacatine captured Silvio, she took him to her ship.

  “How can I save him? I don’t have any powers to match a sorceress. I don’t even have a weapon.” Ivar leaned against a tree and closed his eyes, the weariness of defeat weighed on his body. “Maybe Silvio’s war isn’t mine. Maybe I should let the old man go. Maybe I should go my own way and continue my C
rossing without him.”

  Leaving Silvio wasn’t a decision that Ivar felt good about. Aren or Amleth would have done differently. But then, Aren and Amleth always had a weapon, a bow or a sword, or a magical shield. They were leaders of a great army. Ivar had nothing and led no one.

  His feet dug into the cool sand as he walked along the beach back to camp. His heart ached having deserted a friend. “I promised I’d take care of him, and look what happened. I’m a liar.”

  He gazed at the dark ominous ocean which stretched beyond the breakers and met the night at the horizon. There may have been a ship’s light in the distance, but the Ivar couldn’t tell. Even if the Hacatine was out there, it would be foolish to confront her alone.

  As he neared the camp, the bells of Skerry tolled. The ocean roared a constant drone. The tide was coming in. Ivar kept walking never stopping at camp. Instead he continued up the beach, westward, in the direction he and Silvio had been headed. He would forget he ever met the wizard and continue toward that beautiful forest and green meadow. He would leave the conjurer, Hacatine, and Promise behind. “Let them work out their problems without me.”

  Silvio’s Bane

  Silvio winced. The pain was more than he could bare. The rope tied around his arms and his chest burned his skin. He was too old for this treatment and too worn to fight. Losing his magic had taken everything out of him.

  “There now, old coot. This will keep you from rocking the ship!” The sorceress laughed after she tightened the knot. She ruffled his matted hair. The other guard slipped her fingers between the rope and his arm.

  “Loosen it a bit, Brianna, we don’t want the lines to rub his flesh raw. There’s no need to torture him. Let the queen take care of that business. Personally I’m tired of seeing men suffer. Besides, this one’s old and spent. He’s not going anywhere.”