Wizard in the Woods

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Mikal finally smiled.

  “Get rid of my bodyguards. At least for the duration of this mission. Please, father.”

  Both Rhenyon and the king frowned. Kri’Entu shook his head.

  “They are there for your safety. That is something that is non-negotiable I’m afraid.”

  “What are you worried about?” Mikal asked, exasperated. “You already arranged with the Dragon Lord for my new companion, did you not?”

  The king sat up in his chair, interested. Rhenyon sat down in the chair closest to the king.

  “I have not been in contact with Kahvel,” his father contradicted. “Why would you suggest otherwise?”

  “Do you mean to say you did not arrange to have a dragon meet me up there in their valley?”

  His father again shook his head.

  “I did not. What dragon? Pryllan?”

  “No. Pravara. She claimed she was launching an investigation of her own but I’m not sure I believe her.”

  “Believe her,” his father told him. “I have not received any communiqués from the Dragon Lord aside from his acceptance of responsibility for the damage the fire caused. The Dragon Lord has sent his offspring to conduct their own investigation, eh? How interesting.”

  “If you didn’t send her then that means it’s just a coincidence?” Mikal slowly asked. A few moments later a smile had formed on his face. “That makes me feel better.”

  “Why?” his father asked. “Do you think we’re intentionally spying on you?”

  His father smiled at him when Mikal refused to answer.

  “Very well. I will make a deal with you.” Kri’Entu held up the empty tankard. “Do not tell your mother about this and I will call off your guards.”

  “Yes!” Mikal exclaimed, enthusiastically pumping a fist into the air.

  “Provided you remain in contact with Pravara. I do not believe she will allow you to come to any harm.”

  Mikal’s feeling of euphoria vanished in the blink of an eye.

  “What? That means I still have a babysitter. Father, I’m a grown man now. You said it yourself. Why must I always have someone looking out for me? I can take care of myself!”

  “You are the crown prince. Either you will accept the presence of your Javyn or else you will agree to be Pravara’s companion for the duration of this mission. I will not leave my only son unprotected.”

  Mikal hesitated as he tried to think of a loophole that would allow him to travel alone.

  “Final offer, son. What will it be?”

  “Fine,” Mikal grumped. “I will accompany Pravara.”

  The king nodded, pleased.

  “Excellent.”

  “What if Pravara goes somewhere I don’t want to go?”

  “The two of you are committed to solving this mystery. I’m sure both of you can work together to the mutual satisfaction of each other. And, I’m sure Kahvel is telling Pravara the same thing right about now.”

  “You have been spying on us!” Mikal accused. “How else would you know she’s talking with her father right now?”

  “Believe it or not it’s an educated guess,” the king jovially told him. “Now, would you care to tell me what you’ve learned?”

  “I think, er, we think there may be a wizard involved.”

  Rhenyon coughed and sat up straighter in his chair.

  “Oh? What makes you say that, your highness?”

  “Pravara checked out the destruction from the air. From up there she could see that there was a symbol burned onto the ground. When you’re standing right there on the ground it wasn’t apparent.”

  The king’s interest was piqued.

  “Oh? What symbol? What did it look like?”

  Mikal rose from his chair and walked over to his father’s desk. Peanut eyed his progress, but since he hadn’t made any move towards the exit, she rested her head back on her front forelegs. Mikal took a blank sheet of parchment, and a quill, and recreated the symbol Pravara had scratched out on the ground. He handed the sheet to his father. Rhenyon leaned to his left so that he could see what was on the paper, too.

  “Interlocking diamonds,” the king softly murmured. “That’s a very distinctive symbol. Are you sure they weren’t some random marks that were already on the ground?”

  I’m sure. Your father isn’t very trusting, is he?

  Mikal’s eyes flew open and he gasped with alarm. Concerned, his father leaned close.

  “What is it, son? What’s the matter?”

  “I just heard a voice in my head!”

  Of course you did. You heard mine, Mikal.

  Pravara?

  Aye.

  What are you doing in my head?

  Listening.

  You mean you’re eavesdropping?

  That’s one way to look at it.

  “Would the owner of the voice be wyverian in nature?” Kri’Entu offhandedly asked.

  Mikal nodded.

  “Sir Steve communicates with Pryllan in much the same fashion. I didn’t know you spoke with Pravara in this manner, too.”

  “That makes two of us,” Mikal whispered.

  This is really weird.

  Why? Because I can pick up your thoughts just as you can pick up mine?

  Yes. Steve talks with your mother like this?

  All the time. I wanted to try it out but I needed a human to talk to.

  And you chose me?

  Why not? Why wouldn’t I choose you? I needed a human and you were there. Is there a reason why I shouldn’t have chosen you?

  No, of course not. You just took me by surprise, that’s all.

  Have you found anything out about the mark?

  If you’ve been listening then you’ll know that I haven’t. My father doesn’t really know much about wizards or their marks.

  Who would?

  Good question.

  “Is Shardwyn busy today? I need to ask him about this mark.”

  “Shardwyn is away in Donlari at the moment,” his father said. “It would seem several families have contracted some type of fever that the local healer has been unable to treat.”

  “Oh. Will he be back later today?”

  “It all depends on how successful he is in determining what the families are suffering from. He cannot treat an ailment until he knows what type of medicine he needs to administer.”

  “He should really talk to Lissa,” Mikal said, more to himself. “She would be able to figure out what they’re suffering from.”

  “I believe he already has.”

  Mikal slowly turned to his father, surprise etched all over his face.

  “Has what? Contacted Lissa? You’re kidding.”

  “I am not kidding. His last message to me stated he was having difficulty, too. I suggested he should contact your girlfriend and see if she’d be willing to help.”

  Mikal’s face reddened as he blushed. He gave his father a speculative look.

  “How much do you know about her?”

  “I know that the two of you have been secretly seeing each other since Sir Steve and Lady Sarah returned from their trip through the time portal.”

  “You’ve known? All this time?”

  Rhenyon chuckled. He slapped a friendly hand on Mikal’s back.

  “Your highness, this isn’t my first day on the job. What do you expect when you sneak out of the castle in the middle of the night and end up tripping on the rug in front of that display of armor?”

  “I may have knocked over a piece or two but I caught them before they could fall. It wasn’t that noisy.”

  “We take matters of security seriously,” Kri’Entu said, keeping his face remarkably devoid of emotion. “Instead of confronting you as you were leaving it was decided to see where you were going.”

  “You followed me,” Mikal guessed. “I should have known.”

  “It’s not important, son,” his father told him. “She’s a lovely girl who has a wonderfully intelligent mind.”

  “And hands down t
he best healer I have ever seen,” Rhenyon added, drawing another gasp of surprise from Mikal.

  “You’ve met her?”

  “A few times,” the commander admitted. “She’s a lucky girl, your highness.”

  “Does everyone know about my love life?” Mikal demanded, growing angry. “Does mother?”

  Kri’Entu nodded. “Of course. Who do you think planted the suggestion you bribe Maelnar to make you a portal key? We couldn’t have you traipsing about the kingdom in the middle of the night, nor would you ever be able to find a way to get inside my private vault. Your mother and I disagreed about whether or not you should have your own key but your mother assured me Lissa could be trusted. I am inclined to agree.”

  “Wait, you’re giving me your blessing?”

  The king cocked his head.

  “Are you saying you’ve proposed to this girl?”

  “What? No! Of course not.”

  “Hmmm. Anyway, to answer your question, Shardwyn is indisposed. Hopefully not for too much longer.”

  Mikal nodded.

  “I’ll head to the Archives. I can probably find what I need there.”

  “Now I have officially seen everything.”

  Mikal blinked his eyes a few times at his father.

  “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean? Why did you say that?”

  The king was proving quite adept at keeping any expression off his face that day. Once more he pretended to be unaffected by his son’s discomfort.

  “Because I’ve never seen you willingly visit the Archives. Usually you avoid it as though it was the worst dungeon imaginable.”

  “I have been to the Archives before,” Mikal answered as he rose to his feet. “It’s just past the Great Hall and down through the left corridor, am I right?”

  Rhenyon snorted. “That would be the kitchen, your highness.”

  “I was kidding, Rhenyon.”

  “Of course you were, your highness.”

  Mikal scowled. “I’m going to go now.”

  His father nodded. “Good luck with your research.”

  “If Shardwyn makes it back today could you tell him I’m looking for him?”

  “Of course.”

  The Archives were in the northern section of the castle and encompassed the entire wing. The first floor held the castle’s extensive collection of books, catalogued and cross referenced by subject and author. Leaflets, essays, treatises, and hand written notebooks were included in the collection but could be found on the second floor instead. Historical documents, such as census reports from past years, agricultural tallies, and weapon inventories were one floor down, in the huge storage room the small group of archivists affectionately nicknamed Purgatory.

  Mikal walked through the large arched doorway and hesitated. The air in the room always smelled stale to him, as though someone needed to open a window. However, as was often the case with most Archives, there were no windows to be found. This room had to be protected from sunlight and inclement weather.

  Mikal strode through the Archives foyer and approached a large elliptical desk sitting directly in his path. It belonged to a woman Mikal knew well, for he had suffered through many classes she had taught throughout the years. Watching mortar harden was way more entertaining than having to listen to Andra Alwyn prattle on and on, using the most boring monotone he had ever had the misfortune of hearing, about any variety of subjects. History, philosophy, mathematics, it did not matter. Anything she talked about made him instantly drowsy.

  Andra was nearing 80 years old, had frilly white hair that was usually sticking up in all directions, and wore a white floor length robe that had purple butterflies embroidered all over it. She had a rimless set of spectacles perched on her long skinny nose and, as a result of years of scrunching her nose in an effort to prevent the spectacles from sliding off her face, looked as though she was always squinting. She also had a habit of talking to people who weren’t in the room, so the phrase ‘Absentminded Andra’ had been coined a few decades ago. Mikal had yet to have the courage to even think the words lest the ancient archivist be alerted to his thoughts.

  Mikal eyed the fraying white robe Andra was wearing and shook his head. Every day, every year, every time he had seen the Archivist she had always been wearing the same thing. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and stepped up to Andra’s round desk, signifying he wanted help from the Archivist.

  Right on cue Andra looked up from an open tome of unfamiliar script and scrutinized him carefully. She clucked to herself and gently closed the book she had been reading. She held out an expectant hand.

  Mikal groaned and reached for a stack of small pieces of paper. He peeled off the top sheet, filled out his request, and handed it over. Andra briefly glanced at the sheet before returning her full attention on him.

  Why has your heart rate accelerated again? Does this person disturb you?

  Like you wouldn’t believe, Mikal answered.

  She appears to be a frail, harmless human female. How is it possible this person troubles you this much?

  Pravara, be quiet.

  I am quiet. I am not speaking. She cannot hear me.

  You know what I mean. You’re distracting me.

  How so?

  “Will you please shush?” Mikal whispered. He looked up and paled. Andra Alwyn had, in a matter of a few seconds, risen from her chair and was now leaning on the counter as she stared at him. Andra held up Mikal’s note in one hand and waggled a finger at him. She wasn’t smiling.

  “Crown prince you may be,” his former teacher began in her high quavering voice, “but you’re still my pupil. You will show some respect to your elders. Are we clear?”

  Mikal bit his lip and managed to plaster a smile on his face.

  “Uh, sure, Ms. Alwyn.”

  Mollified, the archivist glanced at the paper to see what his request was. Her lips pursed as she thought about where to send him.

  “There’s no such book that matches your request,” Andra finally answered. “The closest approximation would be a series of observations Shardwyn’s predecessor, Valtor, made on the subject nearly a full century ago. His notebook is amongst our collection. Would that suffice, Kre’Mikal?”

  Mikal shrugged. “I really wasn’t too sure where to start so that’s as good of place as any.”

  “Floor 2, rack 15, shelf C. I believe you’ll find it about two-thirds of the way across the shelf from left to right. It’s a small black leather notebook, if memory serves. Give me the leash. Canines are not allowed in the Archives.”

  Mikal reluctantly passed Peanut’s leash to Andra. He squatted down to give the corgi a few friendly pats.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He straightened and looked back at Andra. He shook his head with wonder. He couldn’t disguise the look of amazement on his face as he studied the old woman before him. Perhaps he had misjudged the canny archivist?

  “Don’t forget to say hello to Jamien for me.”

  Mikal had taken a step towards the heart of the Archives when he turned back to Andra’s curved desk.

  “I’m sorry? What was that?”

  “Jamien. Be a dear and say hello to him for me. I haven’t heard from him in several weeks and I’m beginning to worry.”

  “And Jamien is…?”

  Andra answered him as though she thought he was a dullard.

  “The ghost that lives somewhere between racks 10 and 20.”

  “The ghost, huh? All right then. I’ll let you know if I see him.”

  Humming merrily, Andra returned her attention to the book she had been reading when he had arrived and was soon lost within its pages. Peanut gave him an imploring look as he walked away, urging him to hurry. Mikal chuckled to himself. Absentminded Andra, indeed. Maybe she ought to retire.

  Why? Because you believe her to be senile?

  Mikal jumped and almost clipped the side of a bookcase as he was walking past.

  Do you not have anything better to do? />
  As a matter of fact, no. I have completed my investigation and am waiting for your return.

  It’s been less than two hours! We agreed to reconvene tomorrow morning.

  That is correct. Your powers of recollection do you credit.

  That’s a wicked sense of humor you have. I have work to do, Pravara. Are you planning on eavesdropping the entire time I’m here?

  Of course. It is highly entertaining.

  Most people would consider eavesdropping rude.

  I’m a dragon. I eavesdrop. It’s what I do.

  Really?

  Of course not. We should really work on your sarcasm skills.

  You sounded just like Steve then.

  My mother picked up the act of being sarcastic from him and I, in turn, have picked it up from my mother.

  Oh, wonderful.

  That was sarcasm. See? You’re getting better.

  Pravara?

  Yes?

  Be quiet.

  For how long?

  As long as I’m in here.

  As you wish.

  A few moments of silence passed.

  Are you still there?

  Of course.

  You’re not supposed to be talking.

  Then stop asking me questions.

  You’re incorrigible.

  He felt Pravara’s chuckle as her mirth bubbled up inside her. She was in a good mood. Either she enjoyed teasing him or else had some helpful information to pass along.

  Or I could just be in a good mood.

  I’m going to have to learn how to hide my thoughts from you.

  Now he felt Pravara heaving with laughter.

  I would love to see you try, Mikal.

  You’re saying I can’t do it?

  That is precisely what I am saying.

  Oh, it’s on, my friend. Before this mission is over I will have managed to mask my thoughts from you.

  Pravara laughed harder.

  Nothing’s impossible. I’m sure it can’t be that hard to learn, can it?

  Pravara continued to laugh.

  You’ll see. Now. Where should I start? This place is absolutely enormous.

  Floor 2, rack 15, shelf C, about two-thirds of the way across the shelf from left to right.

  So you were listening to that too, huh? Fine. I’ll find that notebook.

  The notebook, unfortunately, while being extremely difficult to read, only briefly mentioned the marks some wizards chose to leave behind. Valtor went on to say that it was a foolish wizard, indeed, who openly identified what their own private mark happened to be. The problem, Valtor explained, was once a wizard’s mark was identified then additional wizards could be brought in to undo whatever spells the first wizard made, provided the additional wizards wanted to take the time to figure out what spells had been used. Correctly identifying the spells, along with a properly identified wizard, was one of the very few methods of dealing with an out-of-control wizard.