“Get the King!” “King Silvio!” and “The sea, sir. Look!”
Their tiny voices rang out like chimes as the Xylonites called out. Xylepher ran along the edge of the bluff calling Silvio’s name. Silvio waved and Xylepher spotted him
“Ships, sir; lots of them. Hundreds. The queen is moored nearby but there are more ships on the horizon.”
Silvio peeled his hair from his cracked lips and waited for Xylepher to continue.
“Not just a few. A fleet!” The man could barely hold still. His excitement had him jumping, and twitching, and carrying on in an awful frenzy.
“Where are they coming from?” Silvio asked.
“From the East, it looks like they’re coming from Taikus.”
“Good Golblunkers, fellow, hold still and talk to me. Are they sailing in this direction?”
After Xylepher ran toward the bluff and looked out over the ocean, his hand shading his eyes, he stumbled back again, and called out his answer. “No, sir.”
“Well, where are they headed, then?”
“North sir, they’re headed for Menek, for Kaempern.”
The news was not good. A fleet of Hacatine’s ships headed for the Northlands could only mean war. Perhaps it also meant she had the last of the wizard’s magic. Perhaps she had captured Ivar.
Already the Xylonites were running back to Xylepher from however far they had traveled into the woods, walking along the edge of the bluff looking for Silvio no doubt. Looking for guidance, too, and for direction. Silvio hated when the little people panicked, and given a few more moments without him, they’d been uncontrollable.
“Baldergash, Xylepher come down here so I can talk to you.” Silvio’s throat was sore, the corners of his mouth were chapped to a crust, and he still hadn’t caught his breath well enough to make his voice travel. He watched the little man jump across the rocks and slide down boulders to get to him. He brushed the stones off his hands as he raced to the conjurer’s side.
“Weasels! We need mounts. The Northland people need to be warned and we’re traveling way too slow. How soon could you round them up? How soon?” Silvio asked. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “They live all over underground, sir. We could tunnel for them.”
“Then tunnel. Gather weasels for everyone. Send your fastest troops to the Kaemperns and warn them. Tell them we’re coming.”
“Yes, sir.”
“A carriage? Can you make something like the raft you made for me? Something to carry the girl?”
“The weasels won’t be able to pull a travois, sir, but the tamed wolves of the Kaemperns’ live in these woods. We might be able find one, with the weasel’s help. It would be rough riding.”
“Rough, bah. Rough is out at sea,” Silvio nodded to the shoreline, though he couldn’t see the ships from where he was, he knew they must be a spectacular sight to have the little people so upset. “That’s rough. Hacatine and her army are rough. We just need to get to Alcove forest. We’ll catch horses at Elysian’s Fields.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get your men riding for Kaempern as soon as you are mounted. Fast. Then go and find the wolves. I’ll wait for you. Bring the travois and Promise here. We’ll caravan with your families and stay together.” Silvio slid down into the dirt and leaned against the cool rock.
“Two, sir?” Xylepher asked.
“Two what?”
“Two travois? One for you?”
Silvio scowled at the little man. There was a time when the conjurer hadn’t needed help; he used to walk long distances. He used to be strong. He once could travel many miles without even resting, or eating. Now he needed a travois, like a blind girl. He didn’t answer, but Xylepher would know what to do.
“Hurry, before that cloud bursts open.”
Eye to Eye
Ivar trudged through the sand; his feet sank into the coarse granules until his ankles were covered. The wind blew at his back pushing him further up the beach, westward. The shores of Alcove were a purple haze in the distance, the deep green of the forest kissed the coastline and beyond that were the wetlands.
Wet air from the breakers spat into the breeze, mixing with pellets of sand and hair, blasting into his eyes and mouth. He saw the skiff at the water’s edge out of the corner of his eye, but he paid it no heed. He wouldn’t talk to the sorceress queen. He had nothing to say to her. He was going home. It didn’t matter to him anymore if he failed in his quest or not. Aren would find a way to help him give back Silvio’s powers, and Ivar could return to his life as a Kaempern. He’d had enough confusion, enough memory, and enough wickedness. He’d seen who he was. The lost little boy from another world had a home now. There was no need to disturb the past. The Kaempern Sage was right; there are some things better left buried.
I wish I had heeded Amleth’s warning before all this happened.
“And some things that can never be buried again find their way to the surface.” Hacatine matched his footsteps, her silver hair blowing in rhythm with his.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
Her body was like a shadow, gowned in black, graceful, keeping perfect time with him.
He stopped and turned to her. “Go away.”
She released a cruel, curt laugh. “It’s not that easy. You’re mine. I can’t just relinquish my possessions like that.”
He squinted. The wind blew his hair in every direction. Splashes of sea water flew into his face. The world had an ominous aura and Hacatine’s pale skin glowed blue. “I’m not yours.”
“Oh? Watch this!” With a raised eyebrow Hacatine nodded. A bolt of lightning struck the ground with a sudden clap. Ivar jumped, startled from the sound. As the brightness dimmed, a gold dagger lay in the sand.
He fixed his gaze on the shiny weapon glimmering before him, the same image that had appeared in his visions ever since the night he took Promise’s magic.
He saw himself vividly this time.
Daryl rummaged through the campsite along with Andre, looking for money, for jewelry, for tools. Anything metal would be worth trading, at least that’s what Andre said. They had to hurry, though, or the tourists would be back. They’d go to prison if they were caught, and then their hands would be cut off, both hands at the wrist, or the elbow if they cried. That’s what Andre told him.
“Look here,” Andre called from the campfire.
Daryl looked over his shoulder. He had just picked up a backpack lying near the tent.
“Cards. Tarot cards. I know about these. They come from gypsies. These men are gypsies. Look, they tell your fortune.”
“What fortune?”
“Your future, stupid. How rich you will be when you get old. Like Uncle Adrian.” Andre shoved the cards in his pocket.
“He’s not rich. He lives off the sea. No one off the sea is rich.”
“When they find the shipwrecks my uncle will be rich. He says I won’t have to work anymore then because there will be lots of gold for us. Just wait and see. Next time we sail, you’ll see.”
“How do you know? They always say next time wait and see.” Daryl reached into the nylon pack; the pocket was empty except for a weight at the bottom. He reached further and grasped onto a cold hard object. With his back to Andre, Daryl pulled out a gold hilted dagger, tucked into a leather sheath, a good two hands in length. His mouth drooled for want, but he couldn’t admire it too long. If Andre saw it, he’d take it. Daryl shoved the dagger under his shirt and secured it by tying his knee britches tighter at the waist. He looked over his shoulder at the older boy, who was already walking the trail to the shack.
“Hurry up. Get out of there before they come back.” Andre hissed at him.
“You see that, don’t you?” Hacatine asked.
Hypnotized by the vision, he eyed Hacatine looking at him in its reflection, a grin on her face.
The dagger disappeared.
“You stole it, didn’t you?”
Ivar swallowed. Yes, he took it, when he was a young boy. He
wasn’t a thief anymore. He’d learn the right way to live, the Kaempern way. He avoided her stare.
“It was mine!” Hacatine lifted her chin with an air of authority. “And until you return it to me, I own you.”
Ivar’s heart had never beat so hard; his mind had never been so numb. He had nothing to say to the woman. He had no answer for her.
“Oh, don’t be so afraid. It’s not all that bad. Somewhere in your memory you know what happened to the dagger, and together we’ll find it. And when we do, you’ll have completed your quest . . .”
Those hazel eyes were smiling, but it was an evil smile.
Ivar’s heart raced against his chest, and pulsated in his palms. He glanced at his hands which had turned a vibrant green, Silvio’s green, but it wasn’t enough power and he hadn’t enough control to use it against her. It would be a mistake to try. When he closed his fist to hide the luminous flesh, he lifted his eyes and they locked with hers.
She too must have seen his hands and Silvio’s magic. But the only response she offered was a slight curl of her lips. “And then you can go home. You see? We can work together after all, can’t we?”
Ivar moved his lips, no word came through them, but after he cleared his throat he answered. “I don’t want to work with you. I don’t want to be around you.”
“You have no choice.” Her voice mocked his. She spoke just as quietly, but, unlike him, her words came fluently. “That magic that you have isn’t yours either, is it? What happened to the old man after you stole his power? He slithered out of my clutches you know? Sank one of my ships. But don’t worry. Now that I know where his magic is, it will be easy to get my revenge. They’ll both pay, though I guess Promise already has.”
“What?”
She opened her eyes as wide as his. “Oh! You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“What you did to that pretty little girlfriend of yours when you stole her magic? You blinded her, Ivar. She can’t see a thing, and now she’s alone in the wilderness preparing to die a miserable death. Oh yes, she’ll die. Either she’ll starve or her body will be torn apart by wolves.” Hacatine shook her head, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “Another weight on your conscience. What a pity. And after all she did for you. After she risked her life to rescue you.” The woman clicked her tongue sending a spasm of shame through Ivar’s veins. “Why? Ivar? All because of some silly quest to find out who you were? You’d let her die for a little piece of knowledge that isn’t going to do you any good, anyway?” She stopped short and snickered. “So, tell me. How’s it going for you? Are you discovering your past?”
Thunder rumbled the ground under his feet. The sky grew dark. Black clouds hovered over them as the ocean pounded on the sands.
“Or maybe you think I’m lying? Do you need proof? Here.” The woman tossed her head and as she did an image of Promise surrounded by wolves appeared in the sky above them. It was only a flash before it was gone but it was enough to still Ivar’s heart and drop his mouth open.
Sweat poured from his brow. “You’re making that up.”
“No, Ivar. These images are real. And look what else I found.”
She showed him Silvio’s pathetic body lying motionless next to the cliff that Ivar had climbed earlier that day. “Pathetic old man. I think he was looking for you when he collapsed.” Hacatine whispered.
Ivar sickened at the sight. His blood boiled, but he kept his fists clenched tight holding the power in check. “You’re lying.”
“No, dear boy. I’m not lying. But I can help make things better for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Return my dagger, and I’ll take the guilt away.”
The youth turned toward the east, toward the mountains he had just descended. It was possible there was still time to save Silvio. He could get to the old man before the night was over. Together perhaps they could save Promise.
As he moved away from her, Hacatine grabbed his arm.
Mist sprayed at their faces, flying from the ocean. Rain fell from the pregnant clouds. The thrust of the storm would soon be on them.
“You can’t change who you are. Thief!”
He pulled away from her. “And you can’t tell me who I am. I’ve not found out the truth yet. The only truth I’ve seen is your wickedness.”
“And you’ve been lured to it, many times. Easily I might add. I think you have an attraction for evil. It’s pretty obvious, actually. Face the facts, Ivar. You will always be that thieving little Daryl boy.”
“I’m a Kaempern.”
She laughed. “You are no more a Kaempern than Promise is a gypsy. You two amuse me with your alter egos. Stop lying to yourself. What were you feeling when you dove into the water and found my ship?”
Ivar stood his ground as Hacatine moved nearer. “Ah! See! And how did it affect you when you pulled the magic from Promise? It felt pretty good, didn’t it?”
He shook his head, though he remembered the power racing through his veins and the thrill it triggered.
“You can’t deny it can you? No, not any more than you can deny who you are. Daryl. You stole that dagger from those men in the other world.”
“I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Young? That makes it worse. Stealing is in your blood. Look at you. You’ve stolen Silvio’s magic. Promise’s sight.” She shook her head. “And my dagger. You’re a thief, Ivar. Nothing better. Congratulations for reaching your Crossing. You now know who and what you are.” Her laugh felt like sand rubbing across his bones. “Go on ahead. Continue your journey. Wherever the wind takes you. There’s probably more dirt to dig up. Find out all of the details if you must. It will be a little more trouble for you, but the conclusion you come to will be the same either way. If you need relief, just remember I’m here to trade. My dagger for your life! You’ll be begging me to take it by the time you get back.”
He watched her walk back to her skiff. Lightning flashed across the blackened sky as the rain thundered down. His hair clung to his face. Water streamed down his brow, his nose, his cheeks. His clothes were already soaked as droplets beat against his body. He turned back to the east. He would find Silvio and prove her wrong. He’d give the conjurer his magic and then be rid of the queen’s covetousness, and if Promise were still alive he’d give her back her sight. He didn’t want it.
His body trembled, the streams of rain that reached his tongue were salty and he didn’t know if it came from the sea, or his from his heart.
Daryl tied his pony to a tree and shivered. The storm was violent; the wind blew hard and beat the rain against him like pellets of stone. He caressed the dagger as if it would keep him warm. The weapon was the only thing he had. It was his treasure, but it couldn’t feed him, not in this storm. He would go another night without eating, another night of stomach pain. Pulling the blanket that he had found in the cache, the boy threw the fleece on the needles under a pine that offered little protection from the weather. He lay low, gaining only a little shelter from the wind. He tried to doze, but the smell of smoke kept him awake. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when the aroma of burning wood mixed with the smell of food, he sat up.
There was a warm glow coming from a rock overhang. A campfire, and someone was cooking on it. The boy crept in the shadows until he could see a man cooking a meal. Daryl would steal the food. What would happen if he got caught? Would that man cut off his hands? Ha! No. That man had no guts. He wasn’t a warrior, not like the Kaemperns. Daryl had little to be afraid of. He would wait until the man fell asleep and then he would eat his food.
He would steal. He would be a thief.
Ivar remembered the struggle in the rain, being tied up, mounted on a horse and riding up the mountain. He remembered the terror of the black storm that brewed over Deception Peak. His heart raced with the footsteps of fear. There was something in that storm alive and dangerous. He remembered running from arrows flying at him, and hiding in a crevice
with the man from the other world, and then the man set him free but without his dagger, and Ivar’s heart sank from despondency and fear both at the same time. The dagger had kept him safe, secure. With it he could hunt, forage, and cut kindling. Not only did he remember the deep sense of loss when it was gone, but also he felt a pressing urge to get it back.
The rain was gentler, and the dark of the storm eclipsed into night. Too dark to find Silvio, Ivar could barely find his way back up the mountain. He leaned against the bluff, ignoring the hunger pangs, for they were not nearly as wearisome as the heartache.
He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. He hadn’t meant to leave Promise or the old man at the mercy of the wilderness.
Lightning flashed again, but it was heat lightning.
The light flashed three times against Deception Peak. It came from the dagger. Daryl laughed, because he was making it flash, using the smooth shiny blade to reflect the sun. And what was more exciting was the shadow that flew overhead, a monstrous dark shadow-like figure gliding across the sky faster than a storm.
Fire on its breath. A dragon. A large monstrous fire breathing dragon! It dove toward the flashes, leaving its flames wherever the beam appeared. For once in his miserable life, Daryl had power to change things. Power. Magic. The sky lit up as the forest caught on fire.
The screech made Daryl laugh.
Ivar held his hands over his ears to block the unbearable screams of women and children. Sounds from the past.
He couldn’t see a trail leading back up the bluff into the woods. He wasn’t being called to travel in that direction. No. It was westward, where the moon peered from behind the storm front and glimmered on the beach that his beckoning came. The western route was well lit. He would continue his Crossing back to Alcove Forest and on to Deception Peak. Memories beckoned. He would find the dagger. Not for Hacatine, but for himself. He’d use its magic to rescue his friends and fight the evil queen.
Diary of a Conjurer Page 21
