Hollow Road

by Dan Fitzgerald

  “What manner of restitution do you think they intend?” Gummache asked.

  Sinnie and Finn looked at each other, then at Carl, who cleared his throat. “I believe it would be in the form of copper or bronze,” he said, “though it might take some time.”

  Gummache nodded, stroking his thin beard. “It’s very good. Very good indeed. Whether it will be good enough to appease the families, and the Realm, I do not know. But it’s as good as it can possibly be. Did you help them write it?”

  Sinnie looked at Carl, who half-nodded, half-shook his head. “I proposed the idea to Ujenn,” Carl said. Sinnie cleared her throat, and Carl clarified: “She is a member of their council, and a kind of mage, I guess you could say, with powers of...empathy, persuasion, and language.”

  “It’s signed by their leader, Karul, as well as Fabaris,” Sinnie said, “who’s, what, like a judge? Priest?” She looked to Carl and Finn for guidance.

  “He’s a bit like you, Gummache,” Finn suggested, “only not quite so...experienced.”

  Gummache gave a gruff laugh. “I wish I were not so experienced, as you put it. I should very much like to visit this Castle Maer and learn of their ways. It all sounds so fascinating. But instead, I shall have to rely on your detailed descriptions, which I expect each of you to write down before you leave. I can have Jonas, my apprentice, assist you with the recording of these recollections if you desire.”

  “Are these recollections for research purposes only, or would they become official documents?” Carl asked, in a tone which struck Sinnie as a bit defensive.

  “These would be scholarly documents only, which would be unavailable to the authorities of Gheil or of the Realm, by law,” Gummache said reassuringly, though Sinnie wondered at his trust in the authorities. “You will give an official report to the constabulary in Gheil, and I can advise you on what to include and exclude from such official documents. What I am interested in, and what my academic colleagues would wish to know, involves their culture, their language, their customs, their lore, their food. How was the food, by the way? It’s the one thing that has me the most intrigued, I must admit.”

  “Pretty good,” Finn chipped in, “especially if you like mushrooms.”

  “There is one more thing.” Carl gave Sinnie and Finn a look of uncertainty as he retrieved the deerskin cylinder map Karul had given them from his vest. “We are entrusting this to you, and to Mr. Massey, to keep and secure, and to reveal to no one, except as necessary to ensure the safety and security of Brocland and its residents.”

  Gummache’s bushy eyebrows arched high on his forehead as he spread out the map and studied it.

  “This looks identical to the one you found on the Maer,” Gummache noted, “except for this writing here. What does it say?”

  Carl ran his fingers over the text as he spoke. “It says that the Maer relinquish sovereignty over the village of Brocland and all lands described on this map, and grant it to the current residents and their descendants.” He looked to Finn and Sinnie, who nodded.

  “You can read Maer?” Gummache asked, amazed.

  “Only a bit,” Carl said, looking down. “I picked up some during my stay, thanks in part Ujenn’s talents.” Sinnie bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

  “And they granted us this...this ‘sovereignty,’ because you helped them defeat the creatures you spoke of?” Gummache looked from the map to Carl, to Finn, and to Sinnie. The three of them nodded.

  “Very interesting,” he commented, quickly rolling it up and tucking it inside one of the deep pockets of his robe. “Very interesting indeed. I look forward to reading your recollections, which I hope you will take the time to put down today. I have left paper and ink in the chapel basement, if you are ready. In the meantime, I must consult with Massey on how to proceed. I will speak with you in the morning, before you make your way to Gheil, and I will have some thoughts on how you might frame the matter in your official reports. They will be expecting you, and it would be best if you did not delay. There may be those in the Realm’s hierarchy whose haste could prove troublesome.”

  Gummache let out a sigh, then his face softened into a smile. “Never has Brocland seen such times,” he said. “We are most fortunate to have true heroes in our midst.”

  SINNIE KNEELED AND laid a crust of bread on Theo’s stone, next to the penny and the pine cone Carl and Finn had placed there. There were a few other tokens on the grave, fading flowers and dried-up bits of food, but not as many as she would have hoped. Carl’s face remained stoic, but Finn covered his mouth as he stared at the grave, turning quickly away from them to walk out of the chapel courtyard after a moment. Sinnie shot Carl an inquisitive glance, but he just blinked and followed Finn out toward the road.

  The group talked little on their journey to Gheil. Carl was his usual pensive self, though he did smile a bit more than usual. It seemed his relationship with Ujenn, strange though it was, had helped break the depression that had sunk in after the Kalar’s bite. Finn’s mouth remained uncharacteristically shut, his mind apparently absorbed with his training. Sinnie suspected he was continuing his rituals even on horseback much of the time. All of this was just fine with Sinnie, as it gave her time and space to think about what might come next. As they rode down Hollow Road and out onto Silver Road, the dramatic views of the Silver Hills kept drawing her eyes from the path ahead. Though they had come to a mutual agreement to travel to Gheil and ultimately Wells together, the pull of the snow-covered peaks, the ruined castles and the dark tunnels beneath them was too strong to ignore. She would come back to the mountains, one way or another. She needed more training, to be sure, and if she could not convince Finn and Carl to join her, she would need to find other companions, and someone with knowledge on where exactly to look. And for that, she had an idea.

  She did not know much about Gerald Leavitt, other than the fact that he was rich, and that he hired people with particular talents to perform difficult tasks. He was said to know more, and have more connections, than anyone on the Isle. She suspected he had not hired Carl just to deliver Theo’s body for burial. She wasn’t sure what his angle was, but a man who would put down a thousand denri for a seemingly small errand would surely have use for someone with her skills. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted Carl or Finn to know she was planning to talk to Leavitt. It seemed slightly unsavory somehow, though she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why.

  As they reached the North Road, leaving the mountains behind them, Sinnie stopped her horse, turning to face the Silver Hills once more. Finn and Carl turned around too, gazing at the snow-covered peaks, glowing fiery orange in the light of the setting sun. It was Carl who finally broke the silence.

  “Time to move along and set up camp,” he said. “We’ll be back this way soon enough I’m sure, and the Silver Hills sure aren’t going anywhere.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Finn stood in the cold drizzle, his arms wide, his eyes closed. He sensed that the others had already gone, but he stayed, feeling each tiny drop as it landed on his bare face, arms, chest, and back. He heard the snap of wet fingers and he opened his eyes, lowered his arms, and soft-walked into the old stable. He donned his robe and sandals and made for the fire circle, where the other four adepts were sitting. The fire was a trick, of course, too small to bring genuine warmth, but they huddled around it nonetheless, exchanging silent glances, waiting for the master’s word. Finn noticed Gino shivering to his right. Gino had a small but chiseled face and probing eyes that always seemed to be looking at Finn. Finn let his pinky finger brush against Gino’s arm for an instant, just long enough to pass a spark of heat. Gino instantly stopped shivering, turning his head to Finn and mouthing ‘stop,’ his eyes wide, a soft smile on his lips. Finn winked and made a ‘shhh’ shape with his mouth. He knew the master wouldn’t approve, but he was already beginning to tire of the little rituals and games of study.

  That evening, after a silent dinner of raw fish and unsalted bread with the other ade
pts, Finn awaited Gino in his cubicle, smiling as he pictured Gino’s compact frame and eager mouth. While he waited, he worked absentmindedly on some of the techniques he had been practicing on the road back from Brocland. He focused his energy in his fingertips and began to pull the dust motes from the air into a cloud around his fingers, like a magnet. He shaped the dust into the form of a snake, which slithered between and around his fingers, then shot off into the air, remaining in his control until it was about five feet from his body, at which point it dissipated. He had seen demonstrations of masters able to control objects up to fifty feet away, and though he was not there yet, he could see how it might be done. His previous training had focused on controlling his body’s energy, but he had never learned how to project that power more than a few inches beyond his body, to his “immediate aura,” as it was called.

  He was just starting to push the boundaries outside of his own body to the space beyond. He had heard in lectures that in higher levels of training, the distinction between his body and the world around him would dissolve, and he was beginning to see how he was connected to the physical world, part of a larger whole. With time, training and practice, it was said one could reach a deeper level of connection to the underlying reality surrounding the physical body, become one with it, which would open up a whole new set of feats.

  The problem was that the pace of study was wholly determined by the master, in this case a curmudgeonly man who refused to give his name, though Finn and the other adepts had a few choice nicknames for him. Finn thought of him as Cage, since his desire for control was so great that he did not allow the adepts free expression of their gifts, on the principle that they must be pruned and directed to their fullest purpose, like apple trees. This approach had been useful for Finn up to a point but was starting to feel too restrictive. And as far as he knew, Cage never left the old monastery, and seemed out of touch with the outside world. Finn needed room to grow, and it felt like his growth was being stunted.

  A single tap on the door pulled him from his reverie, and Finn’s heart sank when Cage entered, standing in the doorway, his smooth face as unreadable as stone. Finn chose to ignore him, refocusing his energy on the dust on the floor, which he formed into a little maze, then sent a tiny pebble through its intricate twists and blind corners. When the pebble exited the maze, he summoned all his concentration and lifted the pebble into the air, where it hovered for a moment, then he sent it flying out the open window. To his great surprise, it then flew back in the window and settled on his still outstretched finger.

  “You have learned much in your travels,” Cage said. “With whom did you study?”

  “With no one, master,” Finn said, trying to hide his annoyance.

  “I see. And tell me, beyond moving pebbles and grains of sand, what other feats have you mastered?”

  “I have mastered none,” Finn admitted, “but I have managed things I would not have thought myself capable of.”

  “Do tell.” Cage walked into the room and sat on the windowsill. His expression was less severe than Finn expected. Finn searched his memory, and recounted as best he could everything he had tried. He told of the force shell and the force shield, the push, the great leap, healing his broken elbow, the vice grip on the Ka-lar, reviving Carl after the Ka-lar’s bite, the power blow against the mashtorul, and his later help in giving greater movement to Carl’s crippled shoulder.

  Cage listened intently, and his features actually seemed to soften as he heard of Finn’s assistance in healing Carl.

  “You have much work ahead of you to hone your control of your own body, but you have already moved into two areas beyond the work we normally do here. Transferring your energy to another, and controlling objects beyond your body and its aura, are skills best learned with another master. The trick will be to find the right one. Tell me, is there any other sphere of action you wish to learn?”

  Finn studied Cage’s expressionless face. He knew well of Cage’s feelings about harming others, but he wondered if it would apply to creatures such as the Ka-lar or the mashtorul.

  “In our fights against several of the creatures we encountered, I envied my friend Carl’s skill with a sword and Sinnie’s effectiveness with her arrows. With my gift I was able to help, to contribute, but...” Finn threw up his hands and let them slap down on his knees, shaking his head. “I know it is not part of your practice, but I would like to be able to contribute more in battle, against creatures beyond reason or morality.”

  “You want to be able to kill monsters,” Cage said, a hint of a smile growing on his face.

  “Well, yes,” Finn said, surprised again at Cage’s candor. “If for whatever reason I end up in a situation like that again.”

  “And do you intend to find yourself in such circumstances in the future?”

  Finn chewed on his lip. “Yes,” he admitted. “Now that I know what’s out there, I’d like to feel I could do some good in the world by fighting that which is not.” He hadn’t put words to these thoughts before, but it felt right as he said it.

  Cage smiled more broadly this time, completely disarming Finn. “The style of magic you describe can be found on the Isle,” he said, shaking his head a little, “but you’d do better to find a new master in the South.”

  “The—” Finn’s mouth hung open.

  Cage nodded. “There’s a lot more trade with the South than is generally known, and a lot more exchange of knowledge too. I will help you find a good place to land, if you can get yourself there. Listen.” He touched Finn on the shoulder, looking him in the eyes, and the master and pupil dynamic fell away. “You’ll love it there. It’s beautiful, it’s got so much...energy, so many things to see and experience and learn. And besides, your approach to your gift is most definitely suited to the Southern style. They tend to favor a bit more of a free hand. I think it works best for some.” He turned toward the window, then back again. “To be clear, there’s still a lot that study here can teach you. But you have to be ready to receive what it can give. For you, right now, you might do better to go find yourself a bit, get some seasoning on you. Then you can decide if you want to come back and continue with us. And maybe you can teach me a few tricks you learn down there, hmm?”

  “So you’re releasing me then?” Finn had contracted for three months of study and had only completed one.

  “I am. But first,” he said, lifting Finn’s arm to study his tattooed wrist, “we need to get you the rest of your sleeve.”

  Gino’s triple-knock on the door startled Finn, and he turned his face away from Cage, his heart in a panic.

  “Well, I see you have important...personal business to attend to, and I’ll leave you to it.” He stood, putting a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I know we probably don’t say this enough, but I’m...” Cage paused, looking out the window, then back to Finn. “Impressed.”

  Cage opened the door, stepping out of the way and ushering the confused Gino in with a wave of his arm, then closed it softly behind him. Gino looked to the door, then back to Finn, an awkward smile growing on his face.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Never you worry.” Finn stepped to Gino, looking down into his eyes and brushing a lock of hair from his face. “I think my cage has been unlocked. But you, on the other hand, are not leaving this room any time soon.”

  Gino closed his eyes as Finn leaned in for a long, slow kiss.

  FINN SAT REREADING Sinnie’s letter in the empty refectory with a cup of tea and a bowl of drabbath. His arm was still sore and swollen from his tattoo, which went all the way to his elbow, and he had been advised against using his power to heal it, lest the tattoo fade. Sinnie would wait for him in Pontival, where she planned to meet Carl and join him on his trip back to Castle Maer. I just couldn’t face the monotony of another winter on the Isle, she wrote. I hope you’ll join us, at least as far as Brocland. Finn smoothed the edges of the letter on the table, recalling the majestic view of the valley from the parapets of the cas
tle. Ujenn had mentioned that she had a sabra friend in a tower less than a week away from Castle Maer, one who specialized in magic of making and unmaking, and who apparently spoke Southish as well. She’d said he might be persuaded to take Finn on as an apprentice, in exchange for Finn teaching some of what he knew. Though the thought of training with a Maer in an isolated tower was intimidating, it seemed a lot less daunting than a trip to the South all by himself. And besides, he told himself as he shouldered his pack, Sinnie would get bored with only Carl and the Maer to talk to all winter long.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Carl nodded to Gerald Leavitt’s boy as he was led into the apartment. Despite the chill outside, the windows were wide open, and Leavitt sat at a large table covered with maps, books, paper, quills, and inkpots. He calmly put down his magnifying glass and pulled a cloth over the table as Carl entered.

  “How’s my hometown hero?” Leavitt said with what sounded like genuine warmth in his voice, standing to reveal a long red silk robe, which might have been formalwear or some kind of pajama; Carl couldn’t puzzle it out.

  “I haven’t died yet,” Carl replied, shaking the outstretched hand. “My shoulder’s been better though.” He rotated his left arm as far as he could, which was quite a bit farther than it had been a month ago. Thanks to Finn’s ministrations and a lot of careful training, some of the muscle was beginning to grow back.

  “What’s a soldier without a few war wounds?” Leavitt scoffed.

  “A dead one,” Carl answered.