Gwyrtha had a nasty habit of trying to make everything into a game. Whenever she followed him on a run, she would try to trip him with her tail or sneak up from behind and pounce on him. While at Coal’s keep, she had escalated her joke to the point where trying to run was useless and he had stopped even trying.
“Please, sweetheart. I’m tired,” he complained.
She finally stopped and sidled up next to him so that he could climb up. Take me next time, she demanded.
Justan swung his leg over the saddle and sighed. “Fine.”
She grunted in satisfaction and started back towards the camp. He wondered what this morning’s contest would have been like with her around. He envisioned her racing back and forth between the both of them, alternating between tripping them up and pouncing on them. The thought of Deathclaw’s possible reaction to being knocked on his face made Justan laugh out loud.
Funny? she asked.
I was just thinking, Justan responded and his smile faded a bit. Gwyrtha, what do you think of Deathclaw?
He is wild, she replied and her feelings seemed neutral on the subject.
Justan thought for a moment. It wasn’t a bad way to describe him. Deathclaw was highly intelligent, but the way he acted around the others reminded him of the time his mother had tried to take in a feral cat as a pet. It would hide from them all the time and eventually ran away. He shook his head. That comparison was selling Deathclaw short. He wasn’t an animal that ran only on instinct and he most definitely wasn’t a pet. He was a full member of the group. Is Deathclaw’s wildness a bad thing?
Gwyrtha gave a mental shrug. He will change.
What makes you so sure? He asked.
You are Justan, she sent simply, as if that conveyed everything he needed to know.
Justan held tight as she increased her speed, jumping over logs and bushes as she ran. He pondered what she said. Gwyrtha and Fist both had such faith in him. He wasn’t sure why that was and he definitely wasn’t sure he deserved it.
They arrived back at the camp shortly. Daylight had broken and everyone was up. Lenny had the remnants of last night’s meal bubbling on the pot while a few bear meat steaks sizzled on a flat iron pan.
Coal and Samson were talking together to the side of the others. The wizard was rifling through one of the centaur’s saddlebags, looking for something. Justan headed over to them, preparing his mind for the discussion that would ensue.
Samson saw his approach and must have said something to the wizard because without even turning around, Coal said, “Hello, Edge. Are you here to argue with me again?”
While Justan winced, Gwyrtha walked past him to nudge Samson. The centaur smiled and rubbed her beastly head in greeting. Samson had been enjoying their journey just as much as Gwyrtha had. It had been a long time since they had strayed this far from the farm. The only thing Coal and Justan had been able to agree on during the last few days was how annoying it was to be worried sick about something and have a bonded with such a cheerful mood in the back of your mind.
“No, sir. I don’t want to argue with you,” Justan said. “In fact, I owe you an apology.”
“You do?” The wizard turned around and looked at him in surprise.
“Yes. I was out of line last night. I was putting my own need for action above what was best for everyone else.”
Master Coal placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Edge. I understand. I have been struggling with the same emotions that you have. That’s partially why I was so angry. It was like having my own arguments thrown back at me. But after Willum told me what Tad wanted, I had to agree that this was the best way we could help.”
Justan nodded, but the urge to argue that point again rose within him. He forced the feeling down and said the words that he had prepared beforehand. “About our disagreement, Master. I have a proposal.”
Coal’s pulled his hand from Justan’s shoulder and folded his arms. “I see.”
“I think I have found a solution that answers both sides of our argument.”
“Please tell me then, Edge,” Coal said resignedly.
“Last night Fist said something that made me think,” Justan said. “I was complaining and he said that the reason I was so frustrated was because I wasn’t doing anything.”
Master Coal blinked and a laugh escaped his lips. “This is true.”
“Yes. He was completely right,” Justan agreed. “Since Qyxal’s death, I haven’t trained. I haven’t practiced. We haven’t done any lessons. All I have been doing is pacing around and brooding and beating myself up.”
“I have been trying to give you space to grieve,” Coal said. “This is the first time you have had to deal with the death of a friend.”
Justan looked down for a moment and stroked Gwyrtha’s mane. “This morning I awoke early and ran. I challenged Deathclaw to a race.”
“Ah, so that is what you were doing.”
“It was good. It helped me clear my mind, and afterward, as I spoke with him, I thought of a way that we could gather information and at the same time do something active to help the academy,” Justan said.
“Good,” Master Coal said. “Then tell me. What is this idea of yours?”
“I think that we should build an army of our own.”
Master Coal’s eyes grew wary. “Build an army? How do you suggest going about this, Edge?”
Justan started in, excited to explain the plan, “We travel east towards the Mage School. We stop at villages along the way and gather information like Tad wants. But we also find people willing to help and recruit them to help us break the siege.”
Mater Coal frowned and opened his mouth, but Justan continued before the wizard could object, his words coming out in a rush. “We stop in Sampo and gather any men that will listen there. Then we go to the elves. Once we have brought Qyxal back to them and explain how Ewzad Vriil was behind his death, maybe we can convince them to help. Then we go to the Mage School. We can talk to the council and gather wizards and any of their guards that can be spared. Then we stop in Pinewood and on to Wobble. Lenny can help us drum up support there. By that time our army should be sizeable and with the might of the Mage School behind us, we break the siege.”
Coal nodded thoughtfully, but his voice was hesitant. “It is an . . . ambitious idea.”
Justan’s heart sank a little.
“Ambitious? It’s a good plan,” Samson said with a smile. “An admirable plan. It makes far more sense than our current direction.”
“But there are some issues,” Coal added, giving Samson a reproachful nudge to the ribs. “We will have difficulty convincing anyone to follow a group like ours.”
“You and I are named. That gives us credibility,” Justan said.
“And what about the rest of our group? The people of Sampo aren’t about to follow an ogre and a half-orc into battle against goblinoids. Not to mention our two rogue horses and Deathclaw.”
Justan frowned. He had been so focused on the logistics of his plan that he had let a major flaw slip by. He came up with a quick alternative. “Then we go to the Mage School first. Our group won’t be questioned by anyone if we have an official Mage School force accompanying us. Admittedly we will have some hurdles to deal with at the school too.”
“Like our rogue horses,” Coal said. “There are wizards at the school that will want to dissect them. My bond with Samson is what forced me to leave the school all those years ago.”
“Yes, but if the council is on our side, the other wizards won’t do anything. We will have Master Latva, Professor Valtrek, and Professor Beehn backing us at least. I know that much,” Justan said. “Of course, we would have to explain our bonding magic.”
Master Coal rubbed his face with his hands. “The school has actively been hiding the existence of bonding magic for centuries. Why would they reveal it now?”
“I think it’s time they did,” Samson said. “Valtrek knows already. So does Master Latva. And perhaps others we don’t kn
ow about.”
“But why do they hide it?” Justan asked. The situation had always bothered him. The Mage School prided itself on teaching all beneficial uses of magic. Why keep bonding magic a secret? “Every time I ask, you say, ‘that is a topic for another lesson.’”
Coal pursed his lips, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “The reason I have not discussed the matter with you thus far is that the why doesn’t matter. It just jumbles up the issue and creates a mystery. I wanted you focused on learning how to use your magic, not worrying about side issues.”
“And now?” Justan asked. “Evidently it matters now.”
“The truth is that some of the reasons are lost to history. That’s how well kept the secret is. I can only tell you what my master told me,” Coal said. “The school hides the existence of spirit magic and thus bonding magic because the prophet asked them to.”
Justan digested that information for a moment. The prophet seemed to have his hands in everything. Why wouldn’t the prophet want people to know about spirit magic? Was it because that was the kind of magic the prophet himself used? But more importantly, “Why would the wizards agree to a request like that?”
“Perhaps I miss-phrased that,” the wizard said. “It was most likely less of a request and more of a command.”
“The prophet has that kind of pull with the Mage School?” Justan thought back to the night the prophet had spoken to him under the fernwillow tree. That night Qyxal had told him that the prophet had caused a ruckus in the council room, berating the wizards about something.
“Surely if you paid attention in your history classes, you would know that the prophet was one of the co-founders of the Mage School. In some of the oldest histories, it is said that the school was his idea,” Master Coal said.
“Well, sure. But that was thousands of years ago. Surely it isn’t the same prophet.” Justan knew that some scholars believed the prophet to be an immortal, but he had never believed it. He was of the opinion that being the prophet was more of a title passed down through the years.
Coal just shrugged. “Samson can tell you more than I. The prophet helped with the rogue horse migration hundreds of years ago.”
“You have met the prophet?” Justan asked the centaur.
“I have met him many times over the years,” Samson confirmed. “I can never seem to recall his face, but he has always been the same man as far as I could tell. The last time we met was the day he took me to the place where I met Coal. That was, what? Twenty years ago?”
“The same man? But how is that possible? Is he human?”
The wizard shrugged again. “Does it matter? Regardless of whether he is the same man or not, the prophet has ultimate authority. It was the prophet who gave the school the Bowl of Souls. It was the prophet who raised the wall around the school. He has a floor of the Mage Tower of his own that no one is allowed to enter. In the very bylaws of the school, it states that the wizards have to listen to his council. It is their choice whether or not to obey, but they must listen.”
Justan tried to wrap his mind around the concept. “But why would the prophet want knowledge of bonding magic hidden?”
“My master didn’t know,” Coal said. “The prophet rarely gives his reasons. All I know is that they did obey. Any book on bonding or spirit magic in general was taken out of the library and hidden away. They stopped teaching it in class and began focusing solely on elemental magic.”
“So what does this mean for us? Are we supposed to keep our bonding magic secret forever?” Justan asked, a sense of dread rising in his stomach. He tried to imagine how he could possibly keep his bonded a secret forever. No one would understand a group like his.
“No, Edge,” Master Coal said firmly. “As far as I am concerned, the prophet’s command was meant for the Mage School, not for us. My master urged me to keep it to myself while at the school to avoid too many questions, but in the world at large, I haven’t bothered. I never hid anything from the people of Razbeck. They didn’t completely understand my connection with my bonded, but they came to accept it.”
“Yes, but you live in an isolated community. I want to go back to Reneul some day,” Justan said.
“You worry too much,” Samson said with a snort. “You are a named warrior and wizard. If we are able to help break the siege, you’ll be a hero in Reneul. They will be more accepting than you think. I would be more worried about the Mage School.”
Justan nodded. He wasn’t so sure that Samson was right about Reneul, but the Mage School was the problem currently facing them. “Then what do you suggest, Master Coal? I don’t know if we can gather the support we need without the Mage School’s help.”
Coal said nothing for a moment, frowning pensively. Finally, he said, “The only thing we can do is go to the Mage School and see what happens. Perhaps we can find a way to gather their help without revealing our magic.”
“Maybe if we left them outside of the school . . .” said Justan thinking about the best way to hide them. Then a smile spread across his face as he realized what Master Coal was saying. “So we can do it?”
“It’s a better plan then what we’ve been doing here. But,” The wizard raised a finger. “Before we make this decision, we need to bring this discussion to the others. Everyone should have some input in our direction.”
“Agreed!” Justan said with excitement.
They gathered everyone together and to Justan’s happiness, the plan was met with a general feeling of relief. Most of them were just ready to get moving. Lenny was the only source of grumbles, but as soon as he heard that recruiting Wobble was part of the plan, he was on board with the rest of them.
Master Coal agreed to inform Tad the Cunning of their decision that night, but first they needed to head into town as planned. They now had even more reason to go, because not only did they need to gather information for Tad, they also needed to buy supplies. The Mage School was a two week journey away.
Out of their party, the only people that could travel into Filgren without raising alarm were Master Coal, Justan and Lenny. They saddled up Alfred and Stanza for the trip, but with the loss of Bettie’s horse in the fight with Kenn, they were one horse short. Justan offered to let Lenny ride in front of him. Bettie laughed out loud at the idea, but the dwarf just scowled.
“I can walk, dag-gum it!”
“That would slow us down a great deal,” Master Coal said. “We have a lot to do and I wish to be back by dark.”
“You can ride Stanza, Lenny. I’ll jog alongside you,” Justan said. The morning run had left him tired, but the trip to town wasn’t as long as that run had been. Besides, he could pull energy from Gwyrtha as he needed it. He looked to Coal. “Lenny can buy me a horse for the ride back.”
“That’s my gal-durn money!” the dwarf spat.
“We need another horse anyway. Especially if we are going to be making more trips into towns like this,” Justan reasoned. “You can keep the horse after all this is over.”
“Don’t want no blasted horse,” the dwarf grumbled, but didn’t argue further.
They headed out and as Justan ran alongside them, something from his conversation with Coal bothered him. He reached out to Gwyrtha through the bond. She greeted him happily.
You need me? she asked and Justan knew she was already trotting out of camp.
No, Gwyrtha, sorry. Turn back around. You know you can’t come. I have another question for you, he sent. Do you know the prophet?
John, she replied and he caught a brief glimpse of a man, average height, middle aged, with brown hair. His features were blurry, but he got the sense of a kind man. It certainly felt like it could have been the same man he had met.
He sent her his memories of the evening he had met the prophet. It had been dark that night and he could not recall every detail of the man’s appearance, but their conversation and the feeling he had while the prophet spoke to him was still clear in his mind.
John, she agreed.
Can you
show me more? Justan asked. There was a bit of hesitance at first as her desire to please him warred with her reluctance to relive the past, finally a flood of memories poured into his mind through the bond.
The oldest memories were blurry. She was in a room, hurt and confused, but a kind man was with her. A man she knew as Father. Then John barged in the room. He was enraged and yelled at Father before coming at her, his eyes blazing with the intent to destroy her . . .
Time passed. John stood by her and scratched behind her ears. Her brothers and sisters were with her, vague shapes in her memory. John visited with them all . . .
Time flew by. Father was gone now. Her herd was small and her herd was alone. They hid in the mountains, uncertain and scared. John came again and this time with sad eyes, led them away from the evil that hunted them . . .
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 10
