Wizard Gigantic (Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles Book 9)

by Rodney Hartman

  “You are lucky they gave you this horse,” said Nickelo. “She seems to be the gentlest of the lot. That wild one the priestess rides would be a handful.”

  Richard didn’t have to be told. The white stallion Mia rode was two hands taller than his horse, and mean to boot. He’d made the mistake of getting too close to the horse the previous day and gotten bit.

  On a command from Sergeant Thornbriar, the elf lancers moved as one across the river. The water was shallow, barely coming to the horses’ bellies. Once on the other side, the platoon of soldiers fanned out to create a perimeter around Sergeant Thornbriar, Mia, and the two mages. The five monks disappeared into the brush on either side, apparently making an extended recon.

  Richard looked at Amir, standing next to his horse, holding her reins.

  “Still thinks I’m going to try and escape, doesn’t he?” Richard said in his shared space.

  “Of course,” replied Nickelo. “He does not know your intentions, not that you do either.”

  Watching the others across the river, Richard noticed Mia dismount. She placed the butt of her staff on the rocky ground that seemed to form the majority of the terrain on the opposite side of the river. The priestess waved a hand in the air while muttering gibberish Richard heard but quickly forgot. The blue gem at the top of the staff glowed bright. He sensed Power converting to magic and spreading out in all directions, dissipating slightly as it went. After a dozen heartbeats, some of the magic returned.

  “I calculate the priestess just sent out a scan spell of some type to check for enemies,” said Nickelo. “What she does next will probably be a good indicator of whether her spell found anything or not.”

  Facing Sergeant Thornbriar, the priestess said a few words of gibberish. After the elf sergeant shouted some orders, the elf lancers lowered their lances and dismounted. Before long, they began unloading supplies and equipment from the pack animals.

  Amir looked at Richard and said a word of gibberish. When Richard shrugged his shoulders, the big man frowned and pointed across the river.

  Taking the obvious hint, Richard dug his heels into the flanks of his horse and urged her into the river. The docile creature went willingly enough, giving Richard the impression that she was eager to join her fellow horses. Once on the other side, he dismounted and led her to where the other horses were being picketed to a rope line near a spot by the riverbank that had some grass growing between the rocks. Once he tied off his horse, he removed the saddle and brushed the mare off before gathering some clumps of grass and giving it to his mount. The elf Tracer came over and tapped him on the arm. She pointed toward the center of the quickly forming camp. Two of the other elves in her team along with Amir were already there laying out their bedrolls.

  Wandering toward the camp center, Richard noticed the gray-robed mage, Derander, was casting spells near the pack animals on water bags held by some of the elf soldiers. After they received their water, the soldiers moved to Freestrod. The old mage summoned a stack of bread and passed the black loaves out to the soldiers. Once the lancers got their allotted supplies from the mages, another elf handed them each a small sack from one of the pack animals. From three days of traveling with the elves and seeing the same routine, Richard knew the very small sacks contained a couple of handfuls of rice and a few strands of jerky.

  Richard noticed Skylark, the other female on the team assigned to watch him, making her way to their part of the campsite. She was a trim elf with shoulder-length brown hair. He’d figured out early on that she was the team’s representative to get food and water. Once she joined them, the second male elf on the team, Minsk, brought out the team’s cooking pot and fire-stone from his pack. When he set the pot on the ground and poured in some water, Skylark tossed in the small amount of rice she’d gotten for the team. Then she handed Amir, Grapeon, Tracer, and Minsk a strand of jerky the size of a man’s pinky finger along with a small loaf of the black bread. She held out another strand of dried meat and a loaf of bread toward Richard and shrugged her shoulders.

  Unlike the other evenings when he’d taken the bread while refusing the meat, Richard took both bread and meat this time.

  “Why are you doing that?” asked Nickelo. “You have been letting them split your share of the jerky and the rice between them. You don’t need it to live.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m getting tired of this black cardboard they call bread. I’m going to try and do something about it this time.”

  Before any of the others in his team had a chance to eat their meat, Richard waved at them to get their attention. He took his piece of meat and placed it in the pot with the rice and water. Looking at the others, he pointed at the pot and waited expectantly.

  * * *

  Amir was just about to stuff the small piece of jerky in his mouth when the human took his own piece of meat and threw it in the team’s rice pot. The man pointed at the pot as if expecting him to do the same.

  “What does he think he is doing?” asked Minsk. The thin elf took off his helmet and scratched his short black hair, then flashed one of his quick smiles. “This was supposed to be my day to get his share of the meat.” He winked at Skylark. “Oh well, lucky in love, unlucky in everything else.”

  Skylark snorted. “I was not aware you were lucky in love.”

  “That makes you the lucky one,” laughed Tracer. “I made the mistake of letting Minsk take me out once when we were back in Silverton. His idea of showing an elf a good time is drinking wine until he passes out under the table.”

  “Nothing wrong with that,” laughed Minsk. “One does what one does best.”

  Everyone except Grapeon laughed. The big elf popped his strand of jerky in his mouth and chewed. “Well, if the human thinks I am wasting my meat by having it boil away, he has another thing coming. There is little enough to eat as it is. What I would like to know is when are we going to get some more supplies? It has been over a week since we ran out of cheese.”

  Tracer looked at the human for a couple of seconds before dropping her share of the jerky into the rice pot. Then she looked back at Grapeon. “I heard Lord Derander tell Sergeant Thornbriar we should be able to get resupplies in one of the mountain villages.” She looked at the others. “In the meantime, what have we got to lose? Throw your jerky in the pot. I for one would like to see what Rick’s got in mind. He has shared his meat and rice with us often enough over the past few days. It is little enough meat and rice as it is. Like I said, what have we got to lose?”

  Skylark dropped her jerky in the pot. “Not much. To be honest, I do not even like meat. I have only been eating it because it is the only thing besides the rice that has kept this long. I have to eat something.”

  “Well, you may not be eating anything tonight,” said Grapeon as he took a bite out of his small loaf of bread. He made a face while forcing himself to swallow. “I will tell you what though. If the human messes up my share of the rice, I may take him behind one of these boulders and knock him up the side of the head a few times. It will be the last time he spoils a meal for me.”

  “You will do no such thing,” said Tracer. “Sergeant Thornbriar ordered us to take care of him.” She balled a fist and shook it in Grapeon’s face. “If anyone touches him, he or she will answer to me.”

  Grapeon snorted and took another bite of the stale bread.

  Amir thought he looked less enthusiastic about beating on the human than he had. Although the elves hadn’t bothered practicing with weapons since they’d reached the desert, he’d seen them training their combat skills often enough earlier in their journey to know that Tracer was the best fighter on the team. He respected her skills. She’d even helped him improve some of his sword play.

  Coming to a decision, Amir tossed his chunk of meat into the pot. Minsk followed suit. Once everyone except Grapeon had placed their meat in the pot, the human crumbled his loaf of black bread in his hands and dropped the pieces into the pot. The black substance turned the water into a gray, putrid-lo
oking sludge.

  “Hey,” said Skylark. “What are you doing, Rick? No one can eat that slop now. The bread tastes bad enough by itself.”

  Grapeon laughed. “I told you he was going to make a mess of the meal. Just be thankful you only lost your meat and rice. You still have your bread.” He took a third and final bite of his bread and laughed. “It is delicious as always.”

  The human waved a hand at Tracer and muttered a few words of gibberish, then pointed at the pot.

  Amir laughed. “I think he wants your bread, Tracer. I get the feeling that none of us are going to get anything for supper tonight.” Without waiting for Tracer, Amir handed his small loaf of bread over to the human.

  Somewhat reluctantly, Tracer, Minsk, and Skylark tossed their loaves to the man. He immediately broke them into little pieces and dropped the crumbs into the pot. The water turned from gray to a dark black, hiding the rice at the bottom.

  Placing the lid on the pot, the human pointed at the fire stone.

  “I think he wants us to start cooking,” said Skylark. “Typical human. They cannot use magic.”

  Amir knew better. He’d seen a human use magic before, and from his studies, he knew the humans had many magic users of their own. Not wanting to stir up trouble, he kept his opinion to himself.

  Tracer waved a hand over the fire-stone and said a word Amir heard but quickly forgot. The stone took on a reddish glow. As soon as it did, the human set the pot on the stone and leaned back against a convenient boulder.

  “So, Rick,” said Tracer, “how long is it going to take for this gourmet meal of yours to cook?”

  The human glanced at her and smiled. It was the first time Amir could remember the man smiling. Not that it matters, he thought. I could care less whether any humans ever smile. He looked closer at the man. Something about his smile bothered him. It’s like he knows more than he’s letting on.

  Minsk smiled. “Well, I think our supper is officially ruined. I guess you had the right idea after all, Grapeon.”

  “Told you,” laughed the husky elf. “You all will be sorry later when your stomachs are growling, that you did not listen to me when the listening was good. I may miss out on my rice, but at least I got something in my belly.”

  Skylarks belly gave a loud growl. Everyone laughed, even the human.

  After a couple of minutes of small talk, Amir thought he sensed something from the human reach out and touch the pot. He wasn’t sure because it had been so faint. He wondered if the human cast a spell on the pot, but doubted it just as quickly. As a seeker, he was trained to sense the faintest of magic or energy. Even if a spell had a stealth shield around it, I should’ve been able to sense it at this range. Still, I’m sure the man did something. I’m just not sure what.

  Tracer said, “Amir, Grapeon, and you have guard at midnight. You will wake Minsk and Skylark at the third hour. I will team up with Sergeant Thornbriar for the first shift after we finish eating.”

  Minsk laughed, beaming one of his quick smiles. “I have the distinct feeling I’m already done eating.” He pointed at the pot. “That goo looked unappetizing enough before our friend Rick started heating it up. I dread what it is going to look and smell like when he finally lifts the lid.”

  At the mention of his name, the human leaned forward and muttered a few words of the gibberish that was apparently his form of language.

  Amir had his doubts. He half suspected the human could speak and understand everything said around him and was only pretending to be an imbecile. Why, I don’t know, he thought, but I wouldn’t put anything past a human.

  Wrapping the end of his cloak around his hand, the human lifted the lid of the pot and looked inside. As soon as the lid left the pot, Amir’s stomach growled in response.

  “By the Lady,” said Skylark as she leaned forward and took a whiff of the steam coming out of the pot. “That smells like, uh… I am not sure what it smells like, actually.”

  “Well, it smells good, whatever it is,” said Minsk also leaning closer to the cook pot.

  Amir found himself moving closer as well. The smell reminded him of the stew Glory had been famous for making. He felt his eyes grow a little wet. It’s the steam, he thought, wiping the wetness away.

  Several elves in the nearby teams turned and sniffed the air. Corporal Morninglight from the adjacent team walked over and peered into the pot.

  “What do you have there, Tracer?” asked the corporal. “It looks like stew. Where did you get the ingredients? Have you been holding out on us?”

  Tracer took a spoon from her pocket and dipped it into the pot. When she bought it out, the spoon was filled with a reddish-looking liquid and a small bit of gray that Amir took for a piece of the jerky. She brushed a strand of her brown hair away from her face, blew on the liquid, and took a sip. She closed her eyes and smiled. After two long seconds, she stuck the remainder of the spoonful of liquid into her mouth and savored the flavor before removing the spoon and swallowing. She laughed, seemingly for the sheer joy of it.

  “I swear it is just like my mother used to make.” Tracer looked at the human. “We should have been letting you do the cooking all along, Rick. It is delicious. Is it done?”

  Elves from the nearby teams began forming around the pot.

  “Hey,” laughed Minsk. “What do you all think you are doing? I for one would like to enjoy my meal without everyone sticking their noses it.”

  “You heard him,” said Corporal Morninglight, taking a final sniff. “You all had your supper. Let Tracer and her team enjoy theirs.”

  The crowd returned somewhat reluctantly to their own parts of the camp. Amir noticed a lot of the elves looking enviously over at him and the others.

  “Well, no time to be shy,” said Skylark as she pulled a bowl and spoon out of her pack and held it out to the human. “What do you say, friend Rick? Is it time to eat?”

  The human grinned and muttered a few words of his gibberish while spooning Skylark a bowlful of the reddish stew. Amir waited until Tracer and Minsk got their share before thrusting his bowl out to the human. The man nodded and spoke a few more words of gibberish. Amir didn’t care what he was saying. All he knew was that the food smelled delicious, and his stomach could hardly wait to gulp it down.

  From the first bite, Amir was in heaven. I swear it tastes like Glory’s stew, he thought as he took bite after bite. All too soon he found himself scrapping the bottom of his bowl.

  The human motioned at Grapeon and then at the pot.

  The big elf looked at Tracer.

  “Go ahead,” said the team leader. “Your rice was in there, even if you didn’t put in your meat and bread. You still get a share.”

  With his face turning a little red, the big elf held out his bowl.

  The human spooned in stew until the bowl was half full. When he stopped at the halfway point, Tracer laughed.

  “I think that is all you get, big guy,” said Tracer. “Maybe tomorrow you will put all of your food in the pot.” She rubbed her belly and winked at the others in the team. “It tastes just like the vegetable soup my grandmother used to feed us when I was a little elfin.”

  “Not hardly,” said Minsk. “I think it is more like a meat and gravy dish my father is famous for making.”

  Once Grapeon withdrew his bowl and began eating, the human spooned the last of the soupy material into his own bowl and began eating.

  Amir noticed the man’s bowl was only a third full. He gave us full bowls and only took what was left for himself, he thought. I wonder why. Is he that generous? A human?

  All Amir knew was that for the first time in weeks, his stomach felt satisfied. He ignored the envious stares of the elves in the teams around him and lay back on his sleeping pad. It wasn’t his turn to clean up, and he had guard duty at the midnight hour. Within seconds, he was sound asleep and dreaming of his brown-haired Glory and yellow flowers.

  Chapter 16 – KP Duty

  ____________________

  “W
ell, that worked out better than I had calculated,” said Nickelo. “Your belly’s full, and you learned how to draw Power through your ring. I’m impressed.”

  Sitting cross-legged, Richard leaned against the boulder behind him and stared at his now empty bowl. “My belly’s not all that full. I probably shouldn’t have given that big elf so much, or any for that matter, but I figured why create problems.”

  “I calculate that was a very logical course of action. Too bad the Power you got from your ring was so small. It was useful in changing the DNA of the food in the pot to something more palatable to your taste buds, but it is nowhere near enough to do anything useful of an offensive or defensive nature.”

  “Speak for yourself. I think eating something besides that black cardboard was extremely useful. For the first time since we got to this place, my belly’s not growling.”

  “Do not get too used to it, Rick. Your healing Power considers the food a poison and is already working to bring your body back to your DNA baseline. The only reason you still feel the effects of the food is that your Power appears to heal the first ninety percent of any injuries quickly. The residual effects of the other ten percent can take several minutes to several hours to completely heal.”

  Richard refused to let his battle computer’s words get him down. “I really don’t care.” He patted his belly. “I’m satisfied for a few minutes, and that’s good enough for me.”

  Glancing around, Richard noticed Skylark and Minsk gathering the team’s wooden bowls and spoons. Minsk walked over and reached for Richard’s bowl. Instead of handing it to the elf, he stood and took the dirty bowls out of the dark-haired male’s hands.

  “I’ll take cleanup tonight,” Richard said, knowing full well the elf couldn’t understand him but feeling too satisfied at the moment to care. “You’ve probably got guard duty or something.”

  Minsk said a few words of gibberish in apparent protest and started to take the bowls back.

  “No,” Richard said moving the bowls out of the elf’s reach. “I said I’ll do it. I haven’t done anything for the last few days except sit on my butt. This is the least I can do to help.” He flashed the elf a smile. “From now on, just consider me the team’s chief cook and bottle washer.”