A fire of rage began to burn inside Alex. He felt hate, raw and hard. He hated the creatures that had attacked the caravan. He hated the warlocks that had used their magic to spread fear and darkness. He hated the Brotherhood that was the root of all this evil, but more than anything he hated Jabez. Jabez, the would-be ruler of Jarro and powerful dark wizard of the Brotherhood.
Alex walked away from the camp in the late morning. Lycan had decided they would remain where they were for another day, at least until the wounded, including Lupo, were a little stronger. Some of the caravan members looked doubtful when he’d said this, and it was clear they feared another attack. No one complained, however, and they went about the daily business as well as they could.
For a time, Alex followed the tracks the wolf creatures had left, but he saw no sign of humans among them. He already knew in his heart that the seven missing people were dead. He also knew that three or four more of the wounded would be joining them before the caravan started moving once more. Lost in his troubled thoughts, he hardly noticed when Whalen walked up beside him.
“You are angry with me,” Whalen said—it was not a question.
“Yes,” was Alex’s only reply.
“You have a great deal of hate in you at the moment. You should let it go.”
Alex didn’t say anything. He refused to look at Whalen, letting his eyes follow the trail his enemies had left behind instead.
“Go ahead and say it,” Whalen said after a long time. “Tell me what you are thinking. Tell me how this is all my fault. Tell me how you could have saved your friends if I had not made you promise to hide your magic.”
“I could have saved them all,” Alex almost shouted in a tone that was angrier than he would have liked. “I could have broken the spell of darkness and fear. I could have brought light and fire to the camp. I could have destroyed those creatures and their warlock masters before they could have hurt anyone.”
“Yes, I imagine that you could have done all that and more, but then where would you be?” Whalen asked.
“My friends would be alive,” Alex answered, looking at Whalen for the first time.
He looked tired and pale, almost fragile. This wasn’t the Whalen Vankin Alex knew, this wasn’t the powerful wizard of story and song. This was a tired, sad old man, who only went on because he could not and would not lay down and stop. This was a man who would never, ever give up.
“Your friends would be alive, yes, but you would be stuck with the caravan for who knows how long,” Whalen said. “Jabez would attack again—you know he would. He’d send more warlocks, more dark creatures, maybe an entire army to destroy you.”
“That doesn’t matter now, does it?” Alex replied, angry with Whalen for being right and with himself for being foolish.
“It’s a hard lesson to learn, and it never gets any easier, I’m afraid,” Whalen almost whispered.
“What lesson can be learned from this madness?”
“That you can’t save everyone,” Whalen answered. He put his hand on Alex’s arm. “You saved Lupo. You should be happy about that.”
Alex stood in silence for a long time. He knew that Whalen was right. He’d learned this lesson before, and he knew that he would have to learn it again. He couldn’t save everyone no matter how much he wanted to, and for some reason that felt incredibly unfair to Alex.
“Perhaps,” Whalen started after a long pause. “Perhaps I should not have asked you to come with me on this adventure.”
“Whalen, I don’t—”
“Or perhaps I should have sent you alone,” Whalen interrupted. “I really don’t know anymore. It seems as if all my choices, at least the ones where Jabez is involved, go astray.”
“I’m glad to help, Whalen,” Alex said as Whalen remained silent. “I’m just tired of all this sneaking around, hiding and pretending to be someone I’m not. It would be so much easier if we could just get to Conmar, deal with Jabez, and put an end to the Brotherhood.”
“We will,” Whalen replied. “Soon we will reach the east coast of Midland, and then we will make our way to Westland. The time for sneaking and hiding is almost over.”
“What if Jabez already knows where we are?” Alex asked.
“How could he know that?” Whalen replied. “Neither of us used magic, and we managed to drive the creatures away.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“What happened?”
“During the attack, I somehow changed into a dragon. Not my true dragon form, but something different, something in between. My skin turned to armor and I had talons. I don’t know how I did it, or why it happened.”
Whalen thought for a moment before speaking. “I don’t know how you did it either, but I know I would have felt it if you had used your wizard’s magic. This must be something else. Did anyone see you change?”
“I don’t think so. Lupo was nearby, but he was injured and it was dark.”
Whalen nodded. “It could be that because you are the only wizard who is also a dragon, the change may have happened because your dragon side was protecting you.”
“Perhaps that is the answer. And perhaps that is also why the creatures ran away.”
“Yes, if the beasts from last night caught scent of a dragon, it would explain why they ran. Almost all creatures fear dragons.”
Alex looked to the west, a grim smile on his face. “Then let us hope Jabez fears dragons as much as his evil creatures do.”
The caravan ended up staying in the valley for three days. There were no more attacks, but they did have to bury five members of the caravan who had been wounded by the wolf creatures. Lycan sent a large group with Alex to search for the missing people. They followed the wolf tracks for ten or twelve miles, but then they simply vanished. Alex remembered hearing a whistle during the attack and suspected it came from one of the warlocks. If so, then perhaps that same warlock had opened a magical gateway for the creatures to escape through. He kept his thoughts to himself. If it had been a warlock, there wasn’t anything anyone from the caravan could do about it.
When the caravan finally began to move on the fourth day, spirits rose a little. Everyone was glad to be leaving the valley behind—and the trouble they had experienced there. Whalen was clearly in better spirits, even though Alex could see he was still troubled. Alex felt sure it had something to do with Jabez.
As they moved from the lonely north of Midland to the more populated west, the caravan stopped more frequently. Alex grew more irritated with each delay, but there was nothing to be done. Jabez had started his war, and he was already moving and trying to take control of all of Jarro. Alex felt a great need to hurry, to stop Jabez before his armies grew too strong, but he had to wait. Alex knew that he and Whalen could not simply race off to Westland now that they were so close, but the delays and waiting were almost too much.
“Ten days or maybe two weeks, and we’ll be in sight of the sea,” Whalen said one night.
“How long after that will we leave the caravan?” Alex asked.
“Not long. We’ll wait until we reach Denmar. About three weeks, I would guess.”
“Three weeks,” Alex said, annoyed.
“It could be worse. I had planned to travel down the coast with the caravan for several more weeks. It is the wrong time of year to sail to Westland, at least from this far north. We’ll need to go south before we can even think about finding a ship that will take us.”
“Then why leave the caravan?”
“Because, like you, I feel the need to hurry. Jabez is moving much sooner than I thought he would. He must think he will have the advantage, because help from Midland cannot easily reach the north of Westland. We need to move faster, that much is clear. I think if we are lucky, we can find a boat to take us down the cost. If not, we will buy a small boat and sail it ourselves.”
“Jabez will have spies watching the ports.”
“I’m sure he will. Still, since it’s the wrong time of year for easy sai
ling, they may not be as watchful as they should be.”
“Somehow, I think Jabez’s servants are always watchful.”
“You may be right,” Whalen chuckled. “Jabez would not be understanding if any of his servants made a mistake. I’m sure all of his servants have seen his anger, even if he didn’t want them to.”
Alex didn’t ask any questions. He had read both Whalen’s journals and Jabez’s journals multiple times and felt he knew what kind of person Jabez was. Whalen may not have seen it when he was training his nephew, but he had written enough for Alex to understand. Jabez did not stand for other people making mistakes—and he was quick to point out those mistakes. He could never accept that he had made a mistake, so the blame always fell on someone else.
As the days went by, Alex tried to spend as much time as he could with his friends in the caravan. He knew that he would miss his traveling companions and their simple ways. Life in the caravan had been a good experience for Alex—and a lot of fun as well. One evening as he sat by the fire, Lupo sat down beside him.
“Why so glum?” Lupo asked, breaking into Alex’s thoughts.
“What?” Alex asked, turning to look at his friend.
“Just now. You were staring into the distance with a vacant look on your face, and you sighed in a very sad way.”
“Did I? I was just thinking about the adventures I’ve had traveling with the caravan.”
Lupo nodded. “I still think you should come with me to visit the oracle. If you thought traveling with the caravan was an adventure, just imagine what could be waiting for us in another land.”
“Thank you for your offer, but my future is with my uncle, and I think our path will lead us a different way.” Alex nodded to the scar on Lupo’s cheek. “At least you have a good story to tell your friends: ‘Lupo and the Battle of the Wolfmen.’”
Lupo touched his cheek and laughed. “Honestly, I don’t remember much of that night. Just that when you appeared, the creatures ran away. I think you were the real hero of the battle.”
Alex waved off the compliment. “A true friend is a true hero, and I count you as one of my truest friends.” He slapped Lupo on the shoulder. “Now, tell me about Denmar. It’s our next stop, isn’t it?”
“Ah, Denmar,” Lupo said. “A city with a bit of everything, where rare goods from the west are common, and the mysteries of the world are revealed. They say that Denmar is one of the few places in Midland where the sea elves will land, though I’ve never seen one.”
“I thought sea elves were just rumors and stories.”
“Oh, no. There are far too many stories for the sea elves to not be real. I do know there is more magic in Denmar than there is in any other city of Midland. There is an ancient library there with magic books in it, or so they say. Many people travel to Denmar looking for magic of one kind or another, though few talk about it openly.”
“I wonder how many of those looking for magic find it in Denmar.”
“I couldn’t guess. There are wise people in the city, or at least close to the city. They dress as monks, and almost never speak.”
“If they do not speak, how do you know they are wise?”
“Simple,” Lupo answered with a smile. “They are wise enough to hold their own tongues.”
“Ah, wisdom indeed,” Alex laughed.
Alex and Lupo went off to the evening meal together. Lupo was happy to share all the information he had about Denmar. Most of the stories seemed too fantastic to be real, and some were just too silly to be true. Lupo, however, was especially keen to tell the many stories he’d heard about the sea elves. His eyes lit up with excitement as he told the stories to Alex, and even as doubtful as he was, Alex enjoyed the stories.
That night, Alex lay in his blankets and looked up at the stars, his mind filled with the stories Lupo had told him. Sea elves—even the name seemed strange. Where did they live? Could they possibly live on the open sea all the time? They must visit land occasionally, or how else would they get wood to build or fix their ships? Alex soon slipped into dreams about the sea elves, happy dreams that he couldn’t quite remember when he woke up.
The days went by both too slow and too fast for Alex. The need to move forward was always in his mind, so each day felt like it was twice as long as it should be. At the same time, Alex was desperately trying to spend as much time with his friends as he could, trying to remember all the people and the fun that he’d had while traveling with the caravan. It was strange, having both too much and not enough time.
It wasn’t long before the western sea was in view, and the caravan turned due south. Whalen, planning for their departure, told Lycan he was expecting a shipment from Westland. If the shipment was waiting at Denmar, they would continue south with the caravan, but if it was delayed, he and Alex would have to wait in Denmar. Alex knew that there was no shipment—it was just a way for Whalen and himself to leave the caravan without questions. It was a good plan, but like the rest of his made-up life, the lie troubled Alex.
The night before the caravan opened for business at Denmar, Alex and Lupo sat up late with some of the other young men. They looked at the city and talked about what their futures might hold.
“Denmar,” Lupo said when he and Alex were finally alone. “A city of hopes and dreams. I wouldn’t mind spending some time here.”
“Your father might mind if you try to get out of work,” Alex replied.
“I could talk to him. Maybe I could stay with you and your uncle until your shipment arrives. Then we could catch up to the caravan,” Lupo suggested.
“If the shipment hasn’t already arrived, there’s no way of knowing how long we’ll have to wait,” Alex replied.
He felt a sudden fear. What if Lupo really did want to stay with them? Lycan might allow it if he believed their shipment would be coming soon. If Lupo remained, it would be almost impossible for Alex and Whalen to move on to Westland.
“I know it’s not possible,” Lupo said after a pause. “Father would never agree, now that we’re on the final leg of our journey.”
“Your home is south of here, isn’t it?” Alex said, hiding his relief.
“Yes, it’s eight, maybe ten more weeks of traveling,” Lupo answered. “The caravan will grow smaller as we go south. By the time we reach home, there won’t be much of it left.”
“Until next year, when you start out again.”
“And by then I may be on my way to find an oracle. I must admit, the idea of what the oracle might say scares me a little.”
“They say that the only thing to fear from an oracle is finding out the truth about yourself.”
“Reason enough to fear then, as finding out about myself might mean the end of all my hopes and dreams.”
Alex didn’t answer. He understood Lupo’s fear, because he felt a little of it himself. He was also going on a journey that would teach him about himself. Only it wasn’t a kindly oracle he was searching for, but a great evil, a darkness that he had to overcome or else his own hopes and dreams would come to a sudden and violent end.
For the first time Alex thought about what failure might mean. He wasn’t thinking about the cost to Jarro, its people, or all the other known lands if Jabez and the Brotherhood won. He thought only of himself. Failing meant that he would die—or perhaps something worse. He was risking everything to face an unknown power. Why should he risk his life? Why should he risk his own future and happiness for the nameless masses of Jarro? Why should he risk it all—even for Whalen?
A sudden chill ran through him and Alex shook himself. The questions slipped away, and Alex felt a shadow of darkness move across him. The dark magic went almost unnoticed . . . almost. Alex could see now that the doubts came from the west. Jabez was working some magic to spread doubt through all of this land, and his spells had taken Alex almost unaware. Alex looked at Lupo, and he could see the doubt clinging to him like a dark mist. Lupo seemed unaware of anything—even of Alex—as fear and doubt clouded his mind.
Alex moved his hand slightly and reached out to touch Lupo’s arm. Lupo started, as if suddenly shaken awake.
“I . . . I must have dozed off for a moment,” Lupo said, rubbing his eyes.
“It’s late, and tomorrow will be a long day,” Alex said, getting to his feet.
“Yes, it will be,” Lupo agreed. “And for now at least, the future still holds hope.”
“The future always holds hope,” Alex replied, and wished his friend a good night.
The following morning was gray. Heavy, dark clouds filled the sky, and it looked as if a storm was brewing. The business of the caravan went on as normal, and Alex spent most of the day helping Whalen sell the goods they’d carried across Midland. Alex noticed immediately that Whalen’s bargaining skills had changed. He had always sold their goods at a fair price, and sometimes let people talk him down in price, but now things were different. His prices were lower than they had ever been, and he rarely put up a fuss when someone asked for a discount.
“It’s just a game,” Whalen said softly to Alex. “We need to get rid of as much as possible before we leave for Westland. I don’t fancy paying someone to store these things while we’re away. Especially since I don’t think we’ll be needing them again.”
On the caravan’s second day in Denmar, Whalen left Alex in charge of their things and went into the city alone. The story was that he was going to check on the expected shipment from Westland, but Alex knew he was looking for a ship to take them further down the coast. When he returned late that afternoon, Whalen was clearly troubled.
“The shipment hasn’t arrived yet,” Whalen said loudly, walking up to the tables where their goods were spread out. Once he was closer, though, he lowered his voice so only Alex could hear him. “This isn’t good. No ships have come in from Westland for weeks, which is odd considering the time of year.”
Adventurers Wanted, Book 5: The Axe of Sundering Page 14
