The Warrior and the Wandering Wizard (The Way of the Wandering Wizard Series Book 2)

by Michael Novak

  Jocomund sobs, “No, no…”

  In spite of his wounds, the Squirrel Master crawls and rests his hand on his friend’s leathery face. Ever so gently he closes his mentor’s sightless eyes.

  “I told you I would weep for you. But why did you have to die?”

  The small human suddenly swoons and falls unconscious. Talon immediately picks him up and carries him into one of the earlier rooms. He lovingly lays him on a straw bed. Mairin meticulously inspects his wounds.

  “I am familiar with some healing enchantments but they are for minor cuts and bruises. I do not know if they will help him.”

  She closes her eyes and intones a healing spell. The blood flow slows but does not cease. Talon tries to dress some of the wounds, but with little success.

  Mairin stands. “I will see if I can find anything else that might help us.” She looks around and leaves, only to return moments later. “Talon, I found this note on a table along with these vials. The note says, These potions are for my friends, the Squirrel Master, Talon, and the girl with the auburn hair.”

  She shows the curious note to the half-elf. She holds in her hand three slender vials containing thick, green fluid. Talon reads the note twice.

  “He must have known this was going to happen and that we would eventually show up. Amazing.”

  The half-elf opens the vial and spreads a small amount of the medicine on Jocomund’s most critical wound. The rest he pours down his friend’s throat.

  “Here,” he says to Mairin, “Put this in your rucksack. It is a potent, healing mixture.”

  Ever so softly, they hear a humming begin to vibrate throughout the cave. “Wait here.” Talon reenters the room that contains the body of the dead eremite. There are two blue-jays pecking at the lethal weapon embedded in the hermit’s chest. The half-elf solemnly pulls the knife from his friend’s fatal wound.

  Talon steps back, holding the vile blade in his hand. The creatures in the cave approach the body. Talon stares transfixed by the sight. Mice start to lick and clean the blue hands, feet, and face. Birds peck at his beard, neatly straightening the strands. Squirrels and chipmunks paw at the flowing, white hair, brushing it in their own way. A pair of badgers tugs on his matted brown robe, straightening it the best they can.

  Talon decides to check on his wounded friend. Tamarix stays. He is fascinated and watches every detail. Talon finds Mairin cleansing the wounds on the tiny body and applying fresh dressing to them.

  “That was an impressive elixir you gave him. See, the cuts are healing quickly. His breathing is strong and regular.”

  Talon shakes his head slowly. “The last time I was here it was because Jocomund had one of these in him.” He displays the dark-bladed knife. “In his back. It was a mortal wound but somehow the hermit saved his life. He gave that deadly blade to your father. Sometime later, we found it had his name on it; Novastar. I do not know if there are any hidden runes on this one.” He places the weapon on a nearby table.

  Mairin looks to Talon. “I do not know what to say. So much as happened so fast.”

  Talon nods his head. “Your father often expressed that he could not believe all the events that he was swept up in.”

  The girl looks around the room. “I am surprised for a man living in a cave that everything is so well placed and clean.”

  A smile appears on Talon's face. “This is not how the hermit’s living area normally is. Usually everything is in disarray, with all manner of creatures coming and going. Again, he must've known this was all going to happen. You would've thought that he would have tried to prevent it.”

  Mairin looks at the half-elf. “Maybe he knew this had to happen. It might be for the best.”

  Both ponder each other's words. Animals and creatures come and go and birds flutter about. Jocomund’s eyes open as he weakly sits up. “Talon, tell me it's not true… my nightmare. Is he truly dead?”

  Talon gently whispers, “He is dead. Can you tell me again what transpired here?” The small human gathers his courage. “I don't know…something did not feel right. I knew I had to hurry. But as I approached the cave, I heard no animals… no forest sounds. Before I could enter I heard... a clamorous collection of sounds. I can only describe it as…all the creatures and animals in the cave screamed at once. I drew my blade… a tall, thin, bearded man was striding out. When he saw me, he laughed. I knew what he had done…I lunged at him but he easily evaded my knife. He knocked me down with his fist. Then a curious thing…he looked to his ring. It was silver and had a round, dark opal set into it. He pondered it for a moment…and said so you have been in contact with the assassin’s blade, as well. Like I told you before, he drew his knife. I am ashamed to admit it but he… toyed with me. He danced and cut me at will and told me I would die. But then the animals came to my rescue, birds and squirrels and others. I did cut him once in the leg, as he ran…I know that big bear got him. I hoped he clawed and took large bites out of him. I wish I was bigger and stronger.”

  There is a sudden commotion in the cave and Tamarix enters the room with his nose and tail held high. He paces back and forth. Slowly, a solemn column of a multitude of animals marches past their room. Large and small creatures of the forest form the line. The three humans stand and stare at the inconceivable site. The prone body of the hermit is transported outside the cave. The creatures have adorned his body with flowers of all color and kind. A pleasant scent fills the air. His beard is groomed neatly. Two scores of squirrels bear the hermit’s body. But the most amazing sight is the white hair. Small groups of his locks are being carried by thousands of ants, each holding and spreading out his tresses, creating a halo effect that surrounds his head. The three stare, mesmerized by the sight. Once the procession has passed, they follow, helping Jocomund along.

  They enter daylight, and another spectacle to behold. Every branch of every tree is filled with all manner of animals, forming an arch. There are thousands in front of the procession, lined up, creating a pathway for the carriers of the body. A colony of honeybees swoops in and hover just above the hermit’s body forming a buzzing, living shroud. A soft rain starts to fall, but the sun still shines.

  Mairin looks up. “It's a sun shower…as if nature is weeping for one of its own.” They continue to follow the moving hermit. Near a small stream, a large group of opossums and badgers surrounds a deep, oblong hole. At the far end of this grave is an impressive black bear. Talon takes note of its two paws. The blood-stained, long, thick claws look like two massive shovels. One side of the grave is angled for a sloping access. Squirrels and insects lower the body to the bottom of the grave. The soft rain stops. The birds start to sing, but it is not a pleasant morning song. It is a dirge that no human has heard before. Talon is not sure, but he believes he hears a distant melody being played on woodland pipes. The squirrels and many of the creatures turn toward Jocomund the Squirrel Master. He hesitates but for a moment, steps forward, and stands tall.

  “He was the smartest man I ever knew. He always treated me with kindness and respect. I think his favorite thing to do was help everyone. I know he loved everyone and showed it every day. The forest is less without him.” The Squirrel Master bends down and picks up a handful of dirt and tosses it into the grave. “Let him become one with the forest.” The animals are utterly silent. Then small groups of them start to fill the grave with the surrounding earth. It does not take long until it is covered over. Flocks of colorful birds descend and leave more vivid and beautiful flower petals, creating a natural mosaic.

  Solemnly, the creatures start to leave, save the black bear. It lumbers toward the remaining three, with its snout held high. Mairin moves closer and holds on to Talon. Jocomund stares at the mammoth creature. Talon has his hand on his knife. Then a strange thing happens. The beast stands on its hind legs and his head starts to morph into a somewhat human shape. Marion steps back. Talon draws his blade.

  In a deep, throaty voice, the monstrosity growls, “Put that puny weapon away. Show me n
o harm and no harm will come to you. I need to talk to the three of you.”

  Chapter 23

  The one-armed dwarf takes point, leading a small mule hauling their supplies. Aden and Drew, the bodyguard, follow. Mikal walks with his staff in his right hand and Margaret Carol to his left. Majam, as always, walks just ahead of her mage. They make good time and encounter few travelers on the road. They find some shade and take their first respite.

  Drew Foxx offers, “I apologize if this recommendation is out of line, but I'm in charge of the young lady’s well-being. I have heard rumors, Mikal Novastar, that there is a bounty on your head. At the very least, there are people that wish you ill fortune. Luckily, I know this land well and I can show you less traveled paths to the Valley. It may improve our chances of escaping detection.”

  Aden chimes in, “Well, I don’t fear detection but if there is less sun and more shade I'm all for it.”

  The dwarf looks to Mikal and gives a reassuring nod. “Meet, two.”

  Mikal says to Drew, “The Baron has given his approval of you, Captain Foxx. Show us the way.”

  The seasoned warrior leads them into the woods. A short time later, he finds the path he was seeking.

  He turns and instructs, “Even though this is an obscure way, I ask you all to keep your eyes and ears open and talk softly.”

  Drew leads them through the dense, cool woods, stopping periodically to take stock of his surroundings. They find a clean stream and they fill their water containers. Margaret incessantly keeps asking Mikal questions, some about his cat, others about his training in the art of magic. The mage is patient as a teacher and tries to answer all her questions, though keeping the answers brief.

  Mikal laughs softly. “You do remind me of my daughter of not too many years ago. So full of questions. Now I have one for you. What are you seeking with the Sisters of Endorr?”

  The young lass pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Well, I have heard many tales about them. They're supposed to be all so beautiful, or they can make themselves look beautiful. I am not sure what I am seeking. But they are knowledgeable in some of the magic arts, are they not?” Mikal nods. “And I think it may be the word that you use to describe; sisters. I have known since I was a very young girl that it is a man's world. Only special females can rise in that world. But in the Valley, women rule. I wish to learn their ways so that I can lead wisely. As skilled as any man,” she ends, a bit defiantly.

  Mikal chuckles. “Maybe better.” They share a laugh.

  Drew Foxx decides to make camp for the night. He stands next to a rock as tall as a man.

  “We can make a small fire to cook by, but we must hurry, for once the sun is fully set, the fire must be put out.”

  A small amount of firewood is brought forth and Aden sets the tinder to flame. A meal is quickly cooked and everyone has their fill. The fire is quickly extinguished as the last vestiges of sunlight fall over the horizon.

  The bodyguard stands. “I'll take the first watch. Aden Ferrum, you take the second, and you, dwarf, shall take the third. Sleep well. We should enter the Valley on the morrow.”

  ***

  Mikal has a disturbing night. He tosses and turns and murmurs throughout. Twice Margaret Carol has to shake him to silence him, but he does not awaken. Dawn reveals heavy clouds above. Mikal rises but is silent. They share a brief breakfast.

  Kairn, the dwarf, stares at the threatening clouds. “It iz go een turane.”

  Aden snorts, “Well, aren't you the astute observer. Let's be on our way, unless you fear that you’ll melt, sweetness.”

  The seasoned warrior again leads the group, followed by Mikal cradling Majam, Aden, and Margaret Carol. The dwarf, still leading the mule, trails behind. The ominous clouds continue to darken, but they do not release their content. They travel most of the morning under the cover of this dim light.

  “What are you doing?” asks the young girl.

  The dwarf shakes his head. “Nut ting.

  A short time later, again she asks, “Stop that. What are you doing to Master Mikal?”

  Aden turns and confronts the one-armed one. “What is that in your hand?”

  Slowly, the dwarf opens his hand. In his palm are three small, black feathers.

  Margaret Carol says, “He's been grabbing these from Mikal’s hair all morning.”

  The White Wizard runs his hand through his fire-red hair. “I have felt nothing.”

  Aden closely inspects the feathers and the back of Mikal’s head. “I think I see feathers growing even as we speak. You feel nothing, mage?”

  “No, not at all.”

  Aden steps between Majam and the wizard. “Mikal, give me your hand. Do you feel anything?”

  “Yes, I do. Why, may I ask, are you scratching my palm? It feels as if you placed warm water there.”

  “No, Mikal, I took my knife and sliced your palm. You should be in pain.”

  “Knot a gud sine,” states the dwarf.

  “How insightful of you. He is becoming desensitized to the touch and is somehow growing black feathers. Tell me, wizard, you had a disturbing night. Do you remember any of it?”

  The White Wizard shakes his head. “No, but I have been trying to remember. Nothing. I do not feel any worse the wear, but I am tired. I've been tired since I left the School of the Three Moons not that long ago.” Mikal smiles. “This is all very odd, indeed, but we best be on our way.”

  Aden looking toward the dwarf and whispers, “Keep an eye on him.”

  The dwarf nods and the rains fall.

  In the course of the next hour, Mikal stumbles twice though the road is smooth. Both times the Baroness’ daughter is there to help him. The rain is steady and is starting to muddy the path. The White Wizard places his staff in a harness on his back. Majam jumps inside her mage’s traveling cloak, keeping her head exposed so Mikal can see. The drizzle lets up, and starts again. This pattern repeats itself for the entire morning. Sometime after noon, the path ends on top of a stony cliff.

  The bodyguard Foxx looks into the valley. “Well, gentlemen and lady, we have made it thus far. I caution you, the way down is slow and treacherous. I believe the mule will have little difficulty, however.”

  In just over half an hour, they finish the descent and move across the valley's floor in search of the witches’ encampment. The rain has stopped again, but the skies are still filled with brooding clouds.

  “Look, I believe I can see one of the colorful tents,” the Baron’s daughter exclaims excitedly as she points. Suddenly, the air is filled with a dusky flock of carrion crows, all shrieking in unison an irritating sound.

  Mikal covers his ears with both hands. “I cannot think with that a dreadful noise.” He looks up and, with his cat’s sight, he spies the foul, foreboding flock.

  “Be gone!” the Mage demands. To everyone's astonishment, the dark birds fly off as if heeding the command. The group stops and stares at the White Wizard who says, “Well, at least the maddening sound is gone. Let us just keep on.”

  Aden nods in agreement and takes the lead. Margaret Carol softly whispers, “Something's not right.”

  Drew Foxx points. “Behold the tents. The canvasses are ripped to shreds.”

  He readies his spear and moves protectively in front of the young girl. Aden slows and raises his staff. The dwarf holds his new weapon high.

  An armed warrior dressed in the encampment’s colors approaches. Aden and the bodyguard cautiously lower their weapons. Majam gives off a low, throaty sound, almost like a growl.

  Mikal whispers, “You are correct, Margaret Carol. Something is amiss. I sense danger approaches.”

  The colorful warrior nears, limping noticeably. He carries a broken sword and his eyes are dull and lifeless. His lower jaw hangs open and his tongue flaps obscenely in the wind. Drew Foxx steps forward and hurls his spear. His aim is true. The long, sharp weapon digs deep into the warrior’s sunken chest. The hideous apparition hesitates but a moment and continues to
ward the group.

  Aden readies his short staff. “It is a dead thing.”

  A fiery stream shoots toward the hellish soldier and sets it ablaze. It still does not stop. To the contrary, it charges the group, holding its sharp, broken sword above its bulbous head. The conflagration grows more intense. The dwarf launches his enchanted weapon and the blunt side crashes into the grotesque face. A shockwave propels the ghastly creature back, knocking it down. The unearthly thing tries to stand, but the magic fire has penetrated deep and the creature combusts almost instantly to ash. The bodyguard retrieves his spear and the dwarf’s impressive weapon.

  Majam hisses loudly and arcs her back. The Baroness’ daughter follows the cat’s gaze. “Look! There’s someone, I think it's a girl, running. See her? The ground behind her… it's moving toward her! It’s about to overtake her!”

  Mikal and his cat recognize this threat. It is an incredibly large number of rats in pursuit of the hapless lass.

  Margaret Carol screams, “You there! Come this way and we shall protect you.” Aden stares at the Baroness’ daughter.

  The running girl looks up and changes her path. Her eyes dart back and forth as if trying to make a decision. Mikal waves his arms. “We can help you.”

  The running girl seems to recognize the mage. The bodyguard notes, “She's a fast one, is she not?”

  A preteen girl approaches the group, slows, looks behind her, and then turns toward Mikal, who asks, “It is Catherine, is it not?”

  “It is. I’m so glad you're here. Please don't tell Sister Aurum you saw me. We must hurry. Those rats are hungry and we must flee!”

  The White Wizard addresses her. “I do not believe we are as fast as you. Aden, you have been wanting to show off your fire’s power…now would be a good time.”