A Meddle of Wizards

by Alexandra Rushe

  “The god’s face darkened in anger. ‘Why you double-dealing, deceptive little insect,’ he roared, shaking the heavens with the sound of his voice. ‘You tricked me.’

  “The troll cleared her throat. ‘If you will recall, the boy did not specify how he would accomplish the feat, only that he would do it. You cannot deny he’s done the thing, though you may disagree with his method. The boy has won. By the rules of the contest you must grant him his desire.’

  “Trowyn sank to the ground in defeat and dropped his head into his hands. ‘What will the other gods say when they learn this tadpole has defeated me?’

  “‘They will say you are a witless fool, and have the right of it,’ a voice said.

  “The goddess Reba materialized next to her brother clad in a diaphanous gown of silvery green that clung to her silken limbs. Her golden hair floated around her hips.

  “The boy was dazed by the goddess’s beauty, but Trowyn merely bristled at her rebuke. ‘The boy challenged me and won, sister. There is no shame in that.’

  “‘He won by deceit, you clod,’ Reba told him. ‘Are you really such a simpleton as to think a rabbit can outrun Raskfar, the messenger of the gods? The troll cast a spell that gave the rabbit the speed of thought. That is how he defeated the hound. As for his skill with the sling, did you not marvel at the care he took with a simple stone? That was no rock the boy threw from his sling. It was the troll, disguised as a bird. And that disgraceful business with the bowl and the flask of sea water—a cunning trick, I’ll grant you, but a trick nonetheless. And you fell for it, brother.’

  “‘The boy is clever, Reba, you must admit.” Trowyn chuckled. ‘He has courage and spirit.’

  “Reba tapped one elegantly shod foot. ‘He has played you for a fool and must be punished.’

  “‘If he has insulted me, it is my affair and mine alone,’ said Trowyn. ‘I will decide whether he needs to be punished, not you. Be gone.’

  “Angered, Reba left in a blast of wind and crackling thunder.

  “The boy stepped forward. ‘Kill me, if you must, Great Lord, but I beg you will not harm the troll. I importuned her help in this. ’Twas my doing, not hers.’

  “Trowyn tilted his head. ‘Your loyalty to the troll puzzles me, boy.”

  “Finn lifted his chin and met the god’s black gaze. ‘She is my friend.’

  “Trowyn’s lip curled. ‘How sweet. Tell me, boy, what is so important that you would risk your life?’

  “Finn answered without hesitation. ‘I seek a god for my people, left orphaned by Xan’s murder.’

  “Trowyn was surprised. He had assumed the boy’s quest to be self-serving, a bid for fame, fortune, or immortality.

  “‘I have no need of people,’ the Bear God growled.

  “‘Perhaps not, but they have need of you,’ the boy said.

  “The god hesitated and considered them both. ‘It irks me to admit it, but my sister is right. You must be dealt with, or else I’ll hear no end of it. Therefore, I will set you another task, this time of my own choosing. Bring me the Hound of Mandoora’s collar. If you succeed, I will be your god and the god of your people.’

  “The boy straightened. ‘I will bring you this collar,’ he promised, ‘and then we will see if there be honor among the gods.’

  “Trowyn laughed. ‘You are an arrogant sprig, I will grant you that.’

  “He waved his hand. The sky and the mountains spun in a dizzying whirl and Finn and the troll found themselves outside the gates of Mandoora, the home of the gods. The delicately wrought gates leading to the gods’ city glowed, seemingly spun from moonshine and star glow, and shone with a king’s ransom in jewels. The two companions stared, blinded by the beauty before them.

  “They were wakened from their stupor by a noise, like the hissing of a giant bellows.

  “Finn pointed to a nightmarish thing that squatted in front of the gates. ‘What is that?’

  “The troll grinned, her eyes alight. ‘That is the Hound of Mandoora, boy. Pretty, ain’t it?’

  “‘It’s hideous. How do we get the collar?’

  “‘Not a clue.’ The troll yawned. ‘You’re a smart boy. You’ll think of something.’

  “The troll stretched out and closed her eyes, leaving Finn to think it over. The task Trowyn had set him seemed impossible. The Hound was huge, with the body and tail of a lion, the wings and talons of an eagle, and the back legs of a jackrabbit. At the end of this nightmare was a tail equipped with a barbed hook—a hook Finn suspected was poisonous. The spiked tail wasn’t the worst of it. The creature had three heads, dog, snake, and turtle. Finn swallowed. The turtle looked hungry.

  “The turtle hissed and opened its mouth, revealing a cruel upper beak and a curling tongue. A jeweled collar was fastened around each of the Hound’s three necks. A heavy metal chain connected the three collars. The chain was tethered to a stone column on one side of the gate.

  “Finn considered the Hound. ‘There are three heads and three collars. Which one do I get?’

  “The troll opened her eyes. ‘Any one you can, boy.’

  “‘But how?’ asked Finn. ‘The thing is fearsome, and I have no weapon.’ A sudden thought occurred to him. ‘Maybe you could waggle your claws and magic a collar off the ugly beastie?’

  “‘She could, but that would be cheating,’ Trowyn’s voice boomed out of thin air. ‘And there will be no more of that. However, you will be granted a weapon.’

  “A sword clattered to the ground next to Finn. ‘Use your warrior’s skills, runt . . . if you have any,’ the god jeered.

  “His pride stung by Trowyn’s mockery, Finn snatched up the sword and charged the monster. He brought the blade down, slashing at the monster’s clawed front feet. The Hound, unaccustomed to such antics, yelped and sprang straight up into the air. The monster reached the end of its fetter and was jerked down again. The thing landed, heads snapping, and lashed its barbed tail in fury.

  “‘Not that way, boy,’ the troll said, snatching Finn out of harm’s way. ‘Come here. I have an idea.’

  “She raised her wizard stone.

  ‘Trowyn said no magic,’ Finn said.

  “‘Trowyn said I couldn’t magic a collar off the thing, and I’m not going to,’ Gertie replied. ‘But he didn’t forbid magic altogether.’

  “She pointed the stone in her paw at the monster and spoke a single word. A beam of light shot out of the stone, and Finn shut his eyes against the glare. When he opened them again, the snake head was gone. In its place was an enormous cat head. The dog head whined and stared at the cat. The two heads regarded one another stupidly; then the canine brain registered feline. Snarling, the dog head attacked the cat. Yowling and spitting, the cat head fought back. The turtle head beside them recoiled in alarm.

  “‘Quick,’ the troll shouted. ‘Get the collar off the turtle while the other two are distracted.’

  “Finn leapt at the turtle. At once, the turtle head swung toward him with a warning hiss. Finn staggered, dizzy and sick from the poisonous stench of the thing’s breath. The turtle lunged at him. The troll shouted a warning and Finn danced out of reach. The turtle head followed, weaving hypnotically. The boy slowed, hypnotized by the reptile’s malevolent glare.

  “‘Don’t just stand there, boy,’ the troll shouted. ‘Do something.’

  “With an effort, Finn shook off the turtle’s trance. ‘Like what?’

  “The troll jumped up and down. ‘How should I know? It looks hungry. Give it something to eat.’

  “‘Like what?’ Finn asked again.

  “‘Anything,’ the troll roared. ‘Just get that infernal collar.’

  “Setting his jaw, Finn rushed the turtle with his sword.

  “‘Here, turtle, turtle,’ he cried, waving his arm at the monster.

  “Too late, the troll sensed his intent.
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br />   “‘Finn, no,’ she cried, leaping forward.

  “Quick as a wink, the turtle struck and nipped the boy’s left hand off at the wrist. The boy went to his knees. Blood from his severed hand pumped into the sand. The turtle gulped, crushing the sword and the severed hand in its jaws. Finn lurched to his feet and staggered over to the Hound. Using his uninjured arm, he pulled himself onto the beast’s back and fumbled with the clasp of the collar around the turtle’s leathery neck.

  “The collar came loose. ‘I got it,’ he shouted and waved his trophy for the troll to see.

  The monster bucked and Finn sailed into the air. He landed at the Hound’s feet, the pilfered collar still clutched in his uninjured hand.

  “The monster closed in for the kill. With a fierce cry, the troll threw herself between the Hound and the boy, shielding him with her body. The turtle head lowered, jaws snapping, to finish the troll. Roaring with rage and grief, the troll rose on her hind legs and punched the turtle in the snout. The mighty blow, fueled by magic and sorrow, surged out of her and hammered into the turtle. The turtle head slammed into the cat head, knocking them both out, and the turtle’s tongue withered to a black nub. With its dog head whimpering, the creature slunk back to the gate, dragging the two unconscious heads with it.”

  “The surge the troll had released in her anguish rebounded and burst her back paws. Rising, she hobbled over to the unconscious boy and fell to the ground beside him. Trowyn appeared, as did the other gods, to see what the fuss was about.

  “The troll picked up the collar and flung it at the Bear God. ‘The boy has completed the task you set him. See that you honor your end of the bargain.’

  “Burying her face in her paws, the troll burst into tears.

  “Trowyn heartily disliked the troll, but her love for the boy touched him.

  “‘He will not die,’ he vowed, lifting Finn in his arms. ‘I will take him to the House of Healing, where his hurts will be tended.’

  “The troll raised her head. ‘And your promise?’

  “‘I will be his god and the god of his people,’ Trowyn said, relenting.

  “Finn was taken to Mandoora. There, the gods kept watch over him and nursed him most tenderly. To Trowyn’s delight, the boy made a speedy recovery. He was much spoiled by all the gods, Reba included, who had a weakness for handsome lads. They heaped him with many priceless gifts during his stay, including a new sword and a silver horn.

  “‘You have proven yourself on the field of battle,’ Trowyn told Finn one day, ‘but in addition to your own natural abilities, I am giving you and your people unsurpassed skill in the art of war-craft.’

  “The god reached into the sky and tore off a large chunk of the moon, Petrarr. From this black rock, he fashioned Finn his own land.

  “‘Great warriors need a home,’ he said, showing the boy what he had wrought, ‘lest they be tempted to take the lands of other men, incurring the wrath of kings and gods.’

  “Remembering his promise to the troll, Finn said, ‘A portion of it I will give to the monsters, so we may abide henceforth as brothers and neighbors.’

  “Trowyn shrugged. ‘It is yours to do with as you will. Does it please you?’

  “‘It is good,’ Finn said. ‘I shall call it Finlara, after me.’

  “‘Why am I not surprised?’ Trowyn murmured.

  “But Trowyn was surprised after all, for not only did the boy recover from his injuries and grow strong, but he sprouted a new hand in place of the one he’d lost.

  “‘How can this be?’ Trowyn demanded.

  “The skin on the new hand was baby-soft and unmarked, save for a series of jagged red lines that ran around the boy’s wrist and up his forearm, marking the spot where the turtle had bitten him and the blood trail from the wound.

  “Trowyn scowled. ‘Is this another of your tricks, boy?’

  “Finn flexed his new fingers. ‘It is no trick, Great Lord. I have ever had a knack for healing, although I could not be sure I would grow back a limb.’ He grinned. ‘Until now. Still, I deemed the prize worth the risk.’

  “‘You are a remarkable boy,’ Trowyn said.

  “Finn’s eyes twinkled. ‘On this we agree, Great Lord.’

  “The god laughed. ‘Then let this be my final gift to you, Finn the Diffident. From this day forth, your descendants will bear the mark of the turtle on their wrists and be able to heal themselves, like you.’”

  Gertie stepped away from the fire, signaling the end of the story. “And that is the tale of Finn and the troll, or at least as much of it as I’m going to tell tonight.”

  “Thank you,” Raine said with a happy sigh. “That was wonderful.”

  The troll grunted. “It’s a soft night. Think I’ll go for a stroll.”

  She dropped to all-fours and loped away. She’d barely gone when Raven stepped out of the darkness with a dozen sailors at his heels.

  “Glad to see you, Captain,” Odd said with obvious relief.

  “Although I don’t expect any trouble tonight, we are on enemy shores,” Raven said. “Mauric, you, Odd, and Tondel take the first patrol. Wake me at midnight. Tomorrow we’ll start on that new mast.” He turned to Raine. “We buried Doran tonight, or I’d have been back sooner.” He dropped a heavy object into her hand. “He was wearing this, just as you said. I took it off him before we gave him to the sea. Thought his family might like to have it.”

  “Family?” Raine said.

  “Aye. Gurnst tells me Doran had a wife and a new baby at home. Can you guess their names?”

  Raine shook her head. “No.”

  “Doran’s wife is named Birgit, and his son is called Aksel.”

  “Aksel and Birgit, not axle burger.” Raine held out the necklace. “Doran was your man. You should keep this, in case we don’t go to the Citadel.”

  Raven closed her fingers around the gold chain. “Oh, no, you won’t get off that easily. Glonoff knows you’re on my ship, and that means Finlara is involved in this wizard’s coil. Like it or not, you will go to the Citadel, and the Rowan can decide what to do with you.” He shook his dark head. “I don’t envy him the job. You’ve a talent for trouble.” His tawny eyes gleamed in the firelight. “I considered leaving you here, but I decided that wouldn’t be fair to the poor goggins.”

  Raine gasped. “That is so unfair. If that’s the way you feel, I’m surprised you’d let me back on your precious ship.”

  Raven rubbed his jaw. “You may be right. I was thinking of building a raft and pulling you behind us.”

  Raine didn’t trust herself to speak. Stalking away, she snatched up a blanket and lay down by the fire. She glanced nervously into the darkness. The shadows beyond their little circle of firelight were unbroken. Something howled in the hills behind them, and she shivered.

  The soft squelch of boots in the sand warned her that Raven was behind her. He laid down, sandwiching her between him and the fire.

  “Go to sleep,” he said. “Whatever’s out there will have to go through me to get to you, and nothing gets past me.”

  Raine stiffened. “Is that so? Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable?”

  “No one female. Still, there’s a first time for everything.”

  Raine pressed her lips together and lapsed into disgruntled silence. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to go to sleep, but it was no use. She was too tired and wound up. Too much had happened, and she kept thinking about the story of Finn and the troll. How long she stared into the fire, she could not have said, but she finally drifted off to sleep. A few hours later, she heard Raven rise to take his watch, and Mauric lie down on the blanket in his place. Sometime after that, Gertie returned. The troll growled something to Mauric, who responded in Trolk. Padding to the opposite side of the fire, Gertie curled up and went to sleep. Drowsily, Raine stared across the glowing embers at the bott
oms of the troll’s feet. The pads of Gertie’s hind paws were black and leathery, like a bear’s. In the arch of each back paw was an irregular white mark, shiny scar tissue that was obviously many years old.

  Raine flung the blanket aside and sat up. She was seething with chagrin and outrage.

  The troll in the story had a name—oh, yes, she most certainly did. The troll’s name was Gertie.

  Chapter 42

  Shadow in the Wood

  Three days later, the Storm was still anchored off the desolate shore. She’d sustained minor damage to her hull during the monster attack, in addition to the smashed mast. The rest of the party came ashore while the ship was being repaired. As one day passed into the next, Brefreton grew increasingly nervous. He paced along the shore, fretting about the delay and the Dark Wizard, and demanding frequent updates on the Storm, behavior that did little to endear him to Gertie. Losing patience at last, she baldly pronounced him a pain in the rumpus.

  “Here,” she said, shoving a bottle in his hands. “I was saving it for later, but it’s plain you need it more than I do. Have a drink. Have more than one. Maybe it will calm your nerves.”

  Brefreton clutched the bottle to his chest, his eyes bright. “Valdarian spiced brandy? I don’t know what to say, Gertie. This is a rare gift.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Gertie grumbled. “Just cease your grousing and go. You’re giving me the jitters.”

  “I see you’ve been helping yourself to my stores, mor,” Raven said to the troll.

  “It wasn’t for me.” Gertie looked indignant. “That brandy was for your father.”

  “I see.” Raven clasped his hands behind his back. “I suppose that’s what you meant when you told Bree you were saving it for later?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me guess. You brought it ashore for safekeeping?”

  “Naturally. Had to keep an eye on it, you know.” Leaning closer, Gertie confided, “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, son, but your men are prone to a tipple.”

  “As are certain trolls,” Raven said. “Perhaps it’s slipped your mind, but the Rowan gave up drinking when he married Hedda.”