Wizard’s Bane w-1

by Rick Cook

  With his face set in an unaccustomed smile, Toth-Ra continued his climb.

  Shiara and Cormac were almost to the tree line when they heard a noise. The trail paralleled a cliff here and a thin moan came from a clump of bushes off the trail off the cliff side.

  Cormac drew his sword, but Shiara moved instinctively to the sound of a creature in pain. She thrust through the narrow band of bushes that lay between them and the cliff face.

  "Cormac, come here."

  As Cormac breasted through the brush he saw a twisted shape like a small man lying on the rocks. Obviously it had fallen from the cliff above them.

  "It’s a wood goblin," Cormac siad, looking over it. "Leave the poor creature."

  Shiara shook her head. "He has a soul and so deserves succor."

  "Have we time to do this?"

  She looked up at him. "Have we time not to?"

  Gently she moved the twisted broken body off the blood-smeared rocks and placed it carefully on a patch of grass. Quickly the wizardess spread out a collection of healing implements and set to work.

  Shiara labored the chance-found creature as if it were one of her own. She chanted and muttered, made passes with her silver wand and sprinkled the body with herbs and powders.

  As Cormac watched the wounds scabbed over and began to close. The twisted limbs straightened and the bones within them knit. The little creature’s breathing slowed and became more regular. At last it relaxed and began to snore sonorously.

  "Now what?" Cormac asked as Shiara turned away fro the sleeping goblin.

  "He needs rest and a chance to rebuild his strength. In another day or two he will be fine, but now…"

  "We do not have a day or two to give over to nursing him. Have you forgotten what brought us here?"

  "No, I have not forgotten. But he," she nodded to the creature, "will be awake soon and we can ask where his tribe is. I will have to rest a bit in any case." She finished packing her kit and sat down heavily beside her patient.

  It was less than an hour later that the wood goblin stirred, moaned and opened his eyes. He started and tried to rise at the sight of the two humans, but Shiara placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "Rest now," she told him. "We’re friends." The goblin looked dubious but settled back. "I am Shiara and this is Cormac. What is your name?"

  "Ugo. Me Ugo." The goblin’s speech was creaky and slurred but he was understandable.

  "Does your tribe live nearby?" Shiara asked.

  "Tribe all dead," the little goblin said sadly. "Ugo all alone."

  Cormac grunted in sympathy. Unlike their large cousins the hobgoblins, wood goblins lived in closely knit groups. A wood goblin whose tribe had perished had little to live for and scant chance of surviving.

  "I am sorry," Shiara said. "Now rest here for a while and you will feel better." She rose and signaled Cormac that she was ready to move on.

  "Wait, Lady," cried Ugo. The little creature scrambled painfully up and knelt in front of her. "Take me with you. I serve you, Lady," the goblin pleaded. "Let me stay and serve you."

  Cormac looked at Shiara. The last thing they needed was a servant of any sort, much less an ailing wood goblin. But refusing would surely doom him. Without a substitute for his tribe the little creature had no will to live.

  Shiara reached down and put a hand on the goblin’s head. "Very well, Ugo. We accept your service." His ugly face glowed and he looked up adoringly at Shiara.

  "Here is your first task, Ugo, and it is an important one. We go to the top of this mountain on a mission from the Council of the North. If we are not back in three sunsets," she held up three fingers for emphasis, "you must make your way to the Fringe and contact the Council. Tell them we have failed and others must be sent to complete the business. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, lady. Wait three sunsets. If you not back, go tell Council."

  "Then wait for us here, Ugo. Do not follow. Rest and stay out of sight. we should be back in three days and if not, the message must reach the Council."

  "Yes, Lady. Ugo wait."

  "Do you really think the wight can get through the Wild Wood if something happens to us?" Cormac asked once they were out of earshot.

  Shiara shrugged. "Probably not. But it gives him a reason to live and a sense of his own worth. We will be done in less than three days."

  "Much less, I hope," said Cormac, scowling at the mountain jutting above them.

  Evening found them above the tree line, halfway across a jumbled field of boulders. There was no snow but the air was cold and the wind keen and sharp. They used the faggots they had gathered on their climb through the forest to build a fire in a place where two great boulders leaned together and provided shelter from the winds.

  "Our follower?"

  "Camped down in the trees. He apparently plans to gain the summit in a single push tomorrow."

  "By which time, luck willing, we will have completed our business and be away."

  "Luck willing," Shiara agreed.

  Their evening meal was barley porridge flavored with dried meat. It was quickly eaten, but neither made a move to bed down. Instead they sat, staring into the fire and enjoying the warmth reflecting off the boulders.

  "Light, would you have chosen this life," Cormac asked her. "Could you have chosen freely, I mean?"

  Shiara stared into the flames. "I do not know," she said at last. "Being a wizardess is not a free choice. You are born gifted and you try to build your life around it." She lifted her head and looked at him. "And you? Did you choose freely?"

  He laughed easily. "Oh, aye. Even as a child I had a taste for trouble. Mine was a free choice." He sobered. "As freely as any man can choose, at least. I had no hand for farming and I did not want to starve."

  "Do you regret it?"

  Cormac shook his head. "We’ve had a good run, lass. We’ve had some fine times and our fame will live after us. But there are times I miss the things I have not had."

  "A home?" She asked with a little smile. "And children?"

  "The rest, aye. And children, perhaps. I was an only child you know. My line dies with me."

  Shiara laid her fingertips on his shoulder. "That could still be," she said softly.

  "Perhaps. But I’m an old horse to break. I suppose it’s a matter of making choices and then regretting that in making them we give up other things." He picked up a stick and poked the fire with it idly. "I chose the sword road because it promised honor and fame. I have had all that, so I cannot complain of a bargain unfulfilled."

  "Did duty have no role in your choosing?"

  Cormac grinned. "Oh, a mite. But I remember the day you came to the parade ground seeking a guardsman to cover your back while you burgled some trinkety bit of magic. I saw you and decided none other would be your quest companion." He shook his head. "There were one or two others who were minded to volunteer, but I convinced them otherwise."

  "So you presented yourself to me the next day with knuckles bloody." Shiara smiled at the memory. "But was it only my beauty?"

  "Well, I always have been a frippery fellow, Light. With never your fine, serious purpose."

  "Mock me if you will, but we do important work." She sighed. "I do not know what I would have chosen had I been free to choose. But I had a talent for this and a head for the proper sort of spells. The job needed doing, desperately, so here I am."

  "And you regret it?"

  Shiara shook her head and the ends of her silvery hair danced in the firelight. "No. My bargain has been fulfilled as well." She smiled at him. "I have had all that and love as well."

  Cormac reached over and squeezed her hand. "We’ve had more luck than any two mortals deserve, Light."

  Shiara stared into the fire. "It cannot last, you know."

  Cormac’s brows arched. "A premonition?"

  "A thought, rather. It is risky work we do and soon or late it will catch up with us."

  A ghost of a cloud crossed Cormac’s brow. "Mayhap," he said easily. "Or ma
yhap we will both die peacefully in bed." He leered at her. "The same bed, I hope." Shiara reached out and drew him to her.

  They made love, desperately and with a bittersweet passion, as if their coupling could erase the whole World and any thought of the morrow.

  They found the cave less than three hours after they broke camp the next morning. Above the boulder field ran a steep canyon, cleaving its way toward the mountain’s top. There was a rushing glacial stream, chill and sharp, down the canyon, making the dark rocks slippery and hard to climb.

  They came around a twist in the canyon and saw the cave mouth halfway up the cliff. There was a boulder-strewn ledge leading up from the canyon floor, making a natural pathway. The cave entrance itself was dark, jagged and about as inviting as the mouth of Hell.

  "Wait," hissed Shiara and put her hand on Cormac’s bicep. She pointed a little downslope from the mouth of the cave.

  There was a flash of white against the dark rock, like the branches of a dead and barkless tree. Cormac squinted and caught his breath. They were bones, not branches and from their shape and size they could only be the bones of one thing.

  "A dragon," Cormac said quietly. "A dragon died here, and not a small one, either."

  "Dragons prefer caves as lairs," Shiara said. "It would appear that this one chose the wrong resting place."

  "It did not die naturally." Cormac pointed with his blade. "Look at the way the ribs are smashed. But what could do that to a grown dragon?"

  "The sort of creature which would be set to guard a great treasure," Shiara said gravely.

  "And you think it is still there, Light?"

  "A thing which could slay a dragon would not be expected to have a short life."

  Cormac scanned the ledge and the cave mouth again. "There are no other bones. Surely other things would have tried to lair here from time to time."

  "Perhaps they did not arouse the guardian. Dragons are more intelligent than most animals. And greedier than most men. Or perhaps whatever is within is careful to dispose of its refuse so as not to warn others."

  "Hmm. A pretty problem then." Cormac backed warily out of sight of the cave mouth and settled on a rock. "Do you sense magic?"

  Shiara wrinkled her nose. "Like smoke in a hut in wintertime. It is everywhere and strong. There is a blocking spell to confine the emanations, but this near I can feel it pressing. Whatever is within that mountain is powerful indeed." She shivered. "And malign!"

  "But you cannot tell me what guards that door?"

  "If I had to guess I would say a demon. But it would only be a guess."

  "So what now?"

  "Now," Shiara said, bending to her kit, "we need a stalking horse. Something to enter the cave in our stead and see what lies within." She looked up at him. "Plug your ears."

  Cormac clapped hands to his ears while Shiara drew from her bag a gnarled brown root no longer than the length of her index finger. Looking more closely Cormac could see that the root was bifurcated and vaguely man-shaped.

  Shiara blew upon the root and spoke softly to it. Instantly the valley was filled with a hideous inhuman screaming. The root writhed and screamed in Shiara’s grasp until she completed the spell. Then she stood up and threw the root to the ground.

  Cormac blinked. Standing before him was himself, an exact duplicate down to the scars on his arms and the creases in his worn leather swordbelt.

  "How do you like our stalking horse?"

  "A mandrake image." Cormac walked around the figure and nodded approvingly. "Lady, you outdo yourself."

  "Let us hope the guard at that gate finds it satisfactory," Shiara said. She leaned close and whispered in the ear of the homunculus. Wordlessly the thing turned and strode up the path toward the cave.

  "It even has my walk," Cormac said as the thing climbed to the cave mouth.

  "It is your true double."

  The homunculus went fearlessly to the cave mouth and stepped in without breaking stride. Shiara and Cormac held their breaths for three long heartbeats. Then there was a terrible bellowing roar from the cave and the sounds of swift combat. They saw movement in the darkness and then a tiny brown thing came flying out of the cave to bounce off the opposite wall of the valley.

  "A demon in truth!" Cormac breathed. "How do you slay such a one?"

  "With a more powerful demon," Shiara said, still transfixed by what they had seen.

  "You don’t have one of those in that bag of yours do you Light?"

  "Not likely. But if it cannot be slain, then perhaps it can be immobilized." She set down her bag and rummaged around in it. "First we must know more about it."

  "You’re not going to send another homunuculus of me into that, are you? It does me no good to see myself slain."

  "That was the only mandrake root I had. But let us see what happens with something different."

  With her silver wand she sketched a quick design in the dirt and spoke a single phrase. Now another warrior stood before them, a tall lean man with dark hair, a lantern jaw and icy blue eyes. He was dressed in a mail hauberk and carried a two-handed sword over his shoulder.

  "Donal to the flesh!" Cormac laughed. "He looks as if he just stepped off the drill ground at the Capital."

  "No flesh, just an illusion. Now let us see what the demon makes of this one." She spoke to the thing and without a word it turned and started up the ledge.

  At the mouth of the cave the false Donal halted and bellowed out a challenge that made the valley ring. There was no response. It approached the entrance and thrust over the threshold with its great sword. Again nothing. Finally it strode bodly into the cavern calling insults to whatever was within.

  Once more Cormac and Shiara held their breaths. But this time there was no sound of battle from the cave.

  After a minute the illusion returned to the cave mouth and waved to them.

  "It didn’t go for it."

  "But that does not make sense," Shiara protested. "The illusion was indistinguishable from the homunculus."

  "Not to the demon," Cormac observed.

  "Yes, but I don’t see why the demon would attack a homunculus and a dragon but not an illusion. It doesn’t…" she stopped short. "Fortuna, a true name! The homunculus had a true name but the illusion did not." She turned to Cormac with her sapphire eyes wide. "That thing can sense a being’s true name!"

  "Dragons don’t have true names," Cormac protested.

  "Adult dragons do. Oh, not juveniles such as our cavalry ride, but when a dragon becomes a full adult it acquires a true name. The homunculus had a true name just as any demon does. That is how you control them. But the illusion did not."

  Cormac eyed the cave mouth. "A very pretty problem then."

  "Worse than that," Shiara said. "The demon did not know the true name of homunculus and I doubt the dragon stopped for conversation before entering the cave. Yet the demon killed them both."

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning it distinguishes beings with true names from beings without them. But that it does not have to know a thing’s true name to find it and kill it. It is enough that a thing has a true name."

  Cormac gave a low whistle. "No wonder it is tied so tight to that cave. With that power it could seek out and destroy anyone in the World. Light, do you suppose the demon itself is the treasure?"

  "I doubt it. I think the demon merely guards the treasure."

  "It must be treasure indeed to have such a guardian."

  "Aye," Shiara said, studying the cave mouth. "Well, we will learn little more sitting here. I think it is time to take a closer look."

  "Tread softly, Light."

  She turned to smile at him. "I will, my Sun."

  The pair approached the cave mouth cautiously. Cormac had his broadsword out and Shiara held her silver wand before her like a torch.

  As they came closer Shiara stopped and pointed to a line carved in the living rock across the front of the cave.

  "The ward line. The demon cannot cross it."
<
br />   "Are you certain?"

  "Certain enough. Give me a torch."

  Cormac reached into his pack and pulled out one of the pine torches Shiara had prepared. The wizardess tapped the end with her wand and it burst into flame. Shiara drew back and threw the torch across the line and they both ducked back out of sight of the cave mouth.

  There was no sound or movement from the cave. When they peeked around the corner they could see the torch lying on the rough rock floor of the cavern, burning brightly.

  The space revealed by the torchlight was perhaps three times Cormac’s height and somewhat less than that wide, but it ran back into the mountain well beyond the circle of illumination. There was no sign of life or movement.

  "The demon must only materialize when someone enters the cave," Shiara whispered.

  "Well what now?" Cormac whispered back. "Are you satisfied with your view of the demon’s empty home?"

  "Wait," said Shiara, pointing inside the cavern. "What’s that?"

  Cormac followed her finger. There was something lodged in a crevice high on one wall of the cave. "A box, I think," he said.

  Shiara eyed the thing speculatively. "I wonder… Cormac, have you a rope in your pack?"

  "You know I do, Light. And a grapnel too."

  Quickly Cormac retrieved the rope and hook from where they had dropped their packs.

  "You want that box then?"

  Shiara stood by him, her wand in hand. "I do. But be ready to run if we get more than we bargain for."

  Cormac swung the grapnel and cast it expertly into the cave. There was a hollow "clang" as the hook connected with the box. Cormac tugged and it clattered out of the crevice and onto the cave floor.

  In the torchlight Cormac saw that his prize was a bronze coffer, decorated in high relief and apparently bearing an inscription on the top. Another quick throw and Cormac dragged the box out of the cave and across the warding line.

  "Don’t touch it," Shiara warned. As Cormac recoiled his rope she bent to examine the coffer.

  Shiara opened the box with a pass of her wand and a whispered incantation. Nestled inside was a smoky gray globe about six inches in diameter.

  "The heart of the demon!" Shiara exclaimed triumphantly. "Now we can truly control this creature."