Go Quest Young Man

by K. B. Bogen

  “Mostly because I didn’t think I’d need it. I mean, it’s huge, about three inches thick. I didn’t want to lug it around for four years when I wasn’t planning on using it.”

  “That the only reason?”

  “That’s the big one. That and the fact that it’s the most annoying and frustrating book I’ve ever read.”

  “Frustratin’?”

  “Yeah. It’s self-updating.” That explained everything, as far as Erwyn was concerned, but Chesric seemed to need more. “How would you like to read something, then go back a little while later and find it’s not the same? It changes to reflect whatever the current situation is. And the way some petty tyrants like to bicker ... ”

  “I can see where that might be a problem. But aren’t there likely to be times when it would be more of a help than a hindrance?”

  The old man had hit on one of the things that had really been bothering Erwyn. Had he made a serious mistake in leaving the book behind? Even if he had, he didn’t feel like admitting it to a virtual stranger.

  “I like traveling on the surprise-a-minute plan. Bringing the Almanac would have taken all the fun out of the trip. Listen, I’m tired and sore and hungry. And the last decent meal I had was about two days ago.”

  “About two days?”

  “Give or take a month, yes.”

  “Ye ain’t sure?”

  “Listen, Chesric. I have absolutely no way of knowing how long I was in the forest before you found me. I was under some kind of spell or something most of the time. I couldn’t tell whether it was two days or two years.”

  He gazed at the fire, continuing almost apologetically. “I haven’t even found time to try hunting or anything. I’ve been pretty busy.”

  “No matter. Tonight we’ll eat well. I’ll be right back.” Chesric fumbled in his pack briefly, then disappeared among the trees.

  With the old man gone, Erwyn could finally enjoy some time to himself. He rose and leaned against a tree at the edge of the forest. The sun was setting in a glorious array of oranges, reds, and yellows. Purple against the sunset, clouds drifted lazily across the land below. In the waning light, he studied that land.

  Beyond the wood, the terrain became rolling hills, covered mostly in short grass. Here and there a darker spot marked stands of trees, or maybe rocks.

  Further, the hills rose higher, becoming mountainous. Unlike the grasslands on the other side of the forest, this land had character.

  The sun finally sank between two peaks in the distant mountains, cutting off most of the light and throwing the hills into shadow.

  In the semi-dark, Erwyn thought he saw something move. And it was coming toward him. Fast.

  “Chesric!” Erwyn called as loudly as he could, trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice while he moved away from the edge of the wood. “Chesric, where are you?”

  Suddenly, being alone didn’t seem like such a good idea. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to see the rumpled old knight come stumbling through the trees.

  All Fired Up

  Strangers in the Night, Exchanging Lances

  “ALWAYS KNOW THE TERRAIN AND BE PREPARED TO DEFEND YOURSELF AGAINST WILD ANIMALS.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Four: On How to Have a Safe Trip

  The shadowy figure continued its advance toward the trees.

  Erwyn backed into the circle of light made by the fire while chills raced up and down his spine. The fire’s warmth helped, but his silhouette against the flames could probably be seen for miles. And Erwyn couldn’t see beyond that light.

  “Why me? Why always me?” he moaned.

  He had already been through this once or twice before. And he had a feeling that this time he wouldn’t face anything as harmless as an apparently senile old man.

  Desperate, he thumbed through his mental spell book. Lightning might work, if he could separate it from the rain. But could he direct it accurately?

  The shadow pounded closer.

  Maybe he could levitate into a tree.

  But what about Chesric?

  Sleep spell? Someone, or something, might get hurt if the creature fell asleep on top of it. Besides, it didn’t work on the orc. How did he know it would work on this?

  Closer.

  Invisibility spell? Suppose he flubbed it again?

  Closer.

  Protective wards? Not enough time.

  Closer.

  Okay. He’d try the invisibility spell and hope the old man could take care of himself.

  He stepped nearer to the fire and concentrated, calling up the spell. With another glance at the approaching shadow, he carefully wrapped the spell around himself. And ended up laid on the ground, flames reaching toward the sky like hair standing on end.

  A log shifted beneath him and he winced. His flames flickered in reaction. They tickled. And he’d thought being a fire would feel better than being a tree. Hah! He only hoped the flames were feeding on his energy instead of his clothes.

  Quickly, he summoned the dis-spell and stood once more beside the real fire.

  The shadow had almost reached the edge of the wood.

  Erwyn looked around wildly. His eyes fell on Chesric’s sword lying across the clearing. He dashed around the fire. Grabbing the weapon, he held it awkwardly by its hilt.

  The sword seemed in better shape than its owner. The blade glittered in the firelight, its surface clean, its edge sharp.

  The hilt felt uncomfortable in Erwyn’s hands. Awkward. Clumsy.

  Clenching his teeth, he grasped the weapon tighter.

  “I sure hope I can use this thing.” His voice came out barely above a whisper.

  The sword slipped in his grip, the hilt slick with sweat. Before Erwyn was ready, the creature arrived.

  Paws drumming on the ground, tongue hanging from its mouth, a large black wolf thudded into the firelight. It skidded to a halt, staring at Erwyn across the flames.

  The boy stood his ground, arms trembling from the weight of the sword (at least he hoped it was just the sword). He watched the beast warily. He could almost believe he saw intelligence in those eyes. An alien, animal intelligence. It wanted ... it wanted him!

  Slowly, the wolf took a few steps forward.

  Erwyn held the blade between them. He tried to remember all the stuff his instructor had tried to drill into him as a child. But he couldn’t. That was a long time ago. The only blade he’d used since then was his belt knife.

  Another step.

  Erwyn looked into the creature’s eyes again. Maybe that intelligence he’d first seen wasn’t so alien after all. He lowered the sword slightly.

  The wolf stood in front of him, its nose nearly touching his hand. It was just about to ...

  Chesric burst into the clearing, a pair of rabbits dangling from his belt. “Get outta here, ye mangy cur!” He threw a rock at the beast for emphasis. The wolf whimpered as the rock bounced off its back. Then it ran off into the night.

  Erwyn dropped the point of the sword into the dirt. Sweat dripped in his eyes, and his hair was damp. He forced his fingers to release the sword so he could wipe his forehead with the hem of his cloak. His hands shook.

  At the edge of the fire’s glow, Chesric watched the wolf lope into the hills. Then he turned to Erwyn.

  “Don’t never treat a sword like that, boy!” He rushed forward, snatching his weapon from Erwyn’s hands. Then he pulled a rag out of his pack and started wiping the blade. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you proper care of weapons?”

  “Yeah, about six years ago, before I got into that stupid school!” Erwyn retorted.

  He was getting tired of being pushed and led around. First that bird, then Sharilan, now Chesric and his after-school school.

  “I was twelve years old! I’ve spent most of the last six years sitting on a stone bench listening to old
men talk about potions and spells and incantations and stuff. And, anyway, I’ve seen you drop that sword into the dirt at least twice since you decided to ‘tag along’ with me.”

  “That’s different.” Chesric shrugged off Erwyn’s protests. He put his weapon away, then proceeded to skin and spit the rabbits.

  “Yeah, right.”

  The old man continued to prepare dinner, ignoring Erwyn’s insolent reply. “Ye mean to tell me ye didn’t want to go to that there school?”

  He caught Erwyn off-guard with that one.

  “What difference does it make? I went.”

  Why did Chesric need to know whether or not Erwyn wanted to go to the Apprentice School?

  “Might be important later.”

  “Sure. Uh-huh.”

  “Would ye just stop selling yerself short and answer me question?”

  “What was the question again?”

  For a second, Erwyn thought Chesric would give up and strangle him. The old man exerted what appeared to be a massive amount of self-control, however, and restated his question.

  “Did you or did you not want to go to the Sorcerer’s Apprentice School?”

  Shrugging, Erwyn replied, “Yes and no.”

  Chesric had picked up a stick to feed the fire and it broke with a loud crack.

  Quickly, Erwyn added, “Mostly, I went to the School to avoid getting betrothed ... to a girl.”

  “That’s the best thing for a boy to be betrothed to,” Chesric replied.

  “You obviously don’t know Heatherlyn. Besides, have you ever been to Caldoria?”

  “Not that I recollect.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble. Caldoria is a wretched little kingdom, full of smelly sulphur pits and bubbling lava pools. Almost everything that moves is deadly and some of the dead things still move.”

  Erwyn jabbed the end of a branch into the fire, twirling it around until sparks flew into the sky to mingle with the stars. A few sparks landed on the rabbits, to lie, smoking on the golden brown skin.

  He pulled the stick out and stared at the few straggly smoking leaves it still bore.

  “You know, there’s practically no plant life in Caldoria? What little there is falls into one of the previously mentioned categories.” He looked up into Chesric’s eyes. “The climate is hot, humid and sticky, and so are the women. Dragons love the place.”

  “Still, the girl is more important than the place she lives, isn’t she?”

  “Not this one. I think her personality was poured from a syrup bottle. I’m surprised she doesn’t draw flies. Then again, her perfume would probably just drive them away.” Erwyn stared back into the fire, feeling chills race up his spine at the mere thought of getting close to the princess.

  “I’d rather have had an intimate relationship with one of the sulphur pits than marry Heatherlyn.” He grimaced. “At least they smell better.”

  “But what possessed ye to choose magic as the alternative?”

  “Not what. Who.”

  “Huh?”

  “My father. He always wanted to be a sorcerer, or a magician, or something, but his father wouldn’t let him. So I got to be the lucky one. Magic or marriage. Some choice.”

  “What will ye do when ye finish yer studies?”

  “If I finish,” Erwyn reminded him. “I don’t really know. I figured I had at least fourteen years to decide, assuming I made it through the Master levels.”

  “How do ye feel about being a sorcerer?” Chesric began pacing around the fire, tugging thoughtfully at his mustache.

  What was this, a job interview? “I’m not sure. When I work a spell, it’s like ... well ... like I’m one with the whole world. Like I can do anything. Even when I don’t quite get it right, it feels ...” Erwyn shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

  “But ye don’t know if ye want to dedicate yer life to it?”

  “Not yet.” How could one simple conversation make him so miserable?

  Erwyn’s shoulders slumped a little. He took another jab at the fire.

  Chesric walked up beside Erwyn and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  “Someday, yer going to have to make a decision, boy. But it don’t have to be tonight. Decisions that affect yer whole life shouldn’t be rushed, or they tend to make ye miserable. Let’s eat supper and get some sleep.”

  The old man ate quickly, leaving Erwyn to himself. When he finished, he pulled out his bedroll and dropped onto the ground on the opposite side of the fire. Erwyn watched, amused, while Chesric snuggled between the blankets with a chorus of grunts and groans. Moments later, he was snoring again.

  The young sorcerer couldn’t help laughing to himself as he finished his share of meat and shifted into a more comfortable position. He ought to go to bed, too, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not any time soon.

  He lay in his bedroll with his pack beneath his head and his cloak wrapped tightly around him. The ground was hard under the thin layer of bedding. Or maybe it only seemed that way because his brain wouldn’t shut off.

  Becoming a sorcerer had originally been just a way to avoid getting married. The lesser of two evils.

  He had been occasionally bored and frequently intrigued by his studies. Some things were interesting, others were not. Some were just plain fun.

  But did he want to practice sorcery for the rest of his life? Voluntarily? Good question. He drifted into a restless sleep with that question on his mind.

  * * *

  “Honey, don’t you think it’s about time you got up?”

  Erwyn’s eyes snapped open. He stared for a minute into the face of ... Heatherlyn! Complete with library pallor, dark circles, and frilly pink nightgown.

  “H-honey?”

  “Yes, dear?” She smiled, showing rows of sharp teeth.

  He sat up, suddenly aware of his surroundings. Then he leaped from the bed as though it were full of hot coals. The covers slid to the floor.

  Heatherlyn smiled again, like a cat, as she ran her eyes from his face to a point halfway to his toes.

  Erwyn looked down and grabbed the coverlet, blushing.

  “Don’t play games, dear. Get dressed. Our guests will be here soon. And start the fire, will you?” Now she sounded like his mother.

  Had he married Heatherlyn, after all, and just dreamed all the stuff about the School? But it had all seemed so real.

  “What are you waiting for? Light the fire.” Heatherlyn frowned. That was worse than her smile.

  Reluctantly, he searched the mantel for a tinderbox. There wasn’t one.

  Heatherlyn left, returning moments later in a combination orange, off-black, and teal riding outfit. Well, at least it wasn’t pink.

  “What are you looking for, dear?”

  Erwyn stared at his toes, trying not to look at her. He didn’t want a case of the dry heaves so early in the morning.

  “You told me to light the fire. I’m looking for something to light it with.” Preferably a servant.

  “Silly boy! Not that way. I want you to, you know,” she sidled up to him, putting her arm around his shoulder and winking dramatically, “do the magic thing. Light it with your mind. I love it when you do that.”

  “Light it with my m-mind?’ What happened? How could he be married to Heatherlyn and have gone to the Sorcerer’s Apprentice School?

  He knelt beside the hearth and tried to remember the right spell. It came easily to mind. Too easily. He started to direct it toward the logs on the grate.

  “Could you please hurry, Erwyn dear? The combination of a cold room and the crackle of magic is so ... stimulating.” She ran a hand across the back of his pants. Pants he hadn’t had on a moment ago.

  The fire erupted with a boom, knocking Erwyn to the ground.

  * * *

  He sat up, checking his ey
ebrows for signs of damage. Nothing singed but his sleeve from when Chesric ... Chesric! Erwyn breathed a sigh of relief. Just a nightmare. He snuggled back into his covers and waited for his heart to stop pounding. With dreams like that, soul-searching at bedtime could be hazardous to his health.

  Revelation

  Castles in the Air Tend to Fall Down

  “RAIN IS A COMMON OCCURRENCE IN BOTH SPRING AND FALL. FLOODING IS LIKELY IN LOW-LYING AREAS.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Two: On Weather and Its Effects

  Erwyn sighed for the umpteen-millionth time. Lords, but this part of the country was boring! From a distance, it had looked wonderful, with lots of dips and curves. But traversing those dips and curves was just plain work. And to top it off, it had started to rain.

  Chesric stopped long enough to glance unhappily at the cloud-covered sky. “You do this?”

  “Certainly. I just love slogging around soaking wet and hip-deep in mud.”

  “No need to go gettin’ sarcastic on me.”

  Erwyn shifted his pack and wiped the water out of his eyes. “Why are we taking this route, anyway?”

  “Don’t be askin’ me, boy. You picked the direction.”

  “Not this time. I’ve been following you since we left the forest a small slice of eternity ago.”

  “Maybe, but yer the one who went into that forest in the first place. From where we were, there was only two directions to go: into the mountains or back through the forest. We can wander all over these here valleys fer years, but one fact will never change. There’s only one route through these mountains that’s passable to an old man and an inexperienced boy. That’s where we’re headed.

  “O’ course, if ye’ve a mind to try something harder, like climbing a sheer cliff, or ye hanker to go visit Sharilan again, I’d be happy to change direction.”

  “That’s okay,” Erwyn said quickly. “The way we’re going is just great.”

  He continued to follow Chesric’s lead as they wound in and out of the hills for what seemed like months, even if it were only a few weeks.