Diary of a Conjurer (13 page)

Ivar grinned and held back a giggle. He was
hardly ready to think about being a husband, much less a father. He
sat forward on the bench; his hands clenched together, waiting for
the interesting part of the chief’s speech, the part when Amleth
appointed everyone a personal mission.

“Each of you will have a different adventure
ahead of you. You will leave the village for one cycle of the moon,
alone, and return a different person. You will leave as a child,
and you will return a man. It won’t be easy for any of you, but
believe me, you will earn a valuable reward.”

Amleth paused for a moment, his brilliant
blue eyes making contact with every boy in the room.

“I know it’s been a mystery as to what
happens between now and summer. Tonight you will get a glimpse at
both the peril and the tribulations of a quest. But I first wanted
to remind you of our legendary hero, our forefather and first Sage,
Kaempie, the wizard from whom the Kaemperns got their name. In the
ancient days, Kaempie found the banished Meneks in the forest,
alone and confused. These were our grandfathers, and your
great-grandfathers. Kaempie taught them to respect the power of the
Winds. In his love and concern for our people, he sacrificed his
wizardry and magic in order that we could settle here and gain the
wisdom we need to live with nature. After that, the Songs of Wisdom
were born to mortals. They have been our guide ever since. Whatever
happens to you during this next month will depend on your ability
to call on the Songs, and to follow their lead. I, as your mentor,
and Alex, as your Sage, implore you to listen to the Songs of
Wisdom.”

Amleth’s tone changed. He spoke softly. “You
are familiar with the Dragon Shield, and how in the days of war, it
was required to sing the songs in order to protect the village? The
songs had been used to keep shield over our village, safeguarding
us from the flames of the dragon. In times of peace the shield was
kept as a relic in the lodge. You remember, don’t you?”

The young men mumbled their answer. “Of
course.” Tage nudged Ivar in the ribs when Ivar didn’t answer.

“I don’t remember any songs.” Ivar
whispered.

“It was only five years ago.” When Tage
looked at Ivar he bit his lip and a frown came across his face.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Ivar scowled. “Sorry? Forgot about
what?”

“That you weren’t . . . that you didn’t . .
.” Tage’s voice trailed. He looked over Ivar’s shoulder at
Aren.

“What? What do you know that I don’t?”

Tage shook his head and his face turned red.
It was then Ivar noticed Amleth had stopped talking. The room was
quiet. Ivar bolted when his foster father patted him gently on the
knee.

“Come with me.” Aren whispered.

“What? Now? I’ll miss the discourse. Amleth
is giving us our quests!” Ivar grinned, his anxious smile planted
permanently on his face. “Sorry, father, but I need to be
here.”

“You’ve heard all you need to hear, Ivar.
This Crossing is going to be different for you than for the others.
Don’t worry, we’ll come back.”

“But Amleth will scorn me if I leave,” Ivar
whispered.

“He knows.”

Hesitantly, Ivar stood. He and his father
slipped out the door into the night air. They took the path that
followed the stream, stopping a short distance away. The yurt they
left glowed from the lantern light, silhouetting the people
inside.

“What are we doing?” Ivar’s whisper was
filled with angst, but Aren stood calm.

The babble of the creek swallowed the
silence. Patches of grass sprouted through the layer of fallen
leaves on the ground. Though the fragrance of frost permeated the
air, Ivar guessed it would be spring soon. Already the mountain was
showing signs of new life. Buds laced the trees, specks of green
peeked up from under the ferns, and spider webs hung low over the
trail.

Ivar canvassed Aren’s face, hoping for an
explanation. A strong man, taller than Amleth, and stockier in
build, Aren’s blond hair shone in the starlight. A man of few
words, tonight Aren’s eyes spoke for him. Tonight they told Ivar to
be patient. Of all the virtues the Kaempern children were tested
with, Ivar hated patience the most.

The youth paced along the creek bed, kicking
stones into the water. “Why won’t you tell me what’s
happening?”

Aren stood silent, eyes closed, arms folded
against his chest. Time, for the youth, seemed to have slowed.
After a long moment of silence, Aren opened his eyes. “Do you trust
me, Ivar?”

The boy faced Aren. Of course he trusted him.
Aren was a faithful father. He took care of him, taught him to
hunt, to forage, and to respect nature and the people of his tribe.
Aren raised Ivar to be proficient in every skill a Kaempern needed,
and he even taught him some skills most Kaemperns didn’t have, like
lance fishing and making a raft. Aren was a good man, faithful to
his family, loving, and kind.

“Yes,” Ivar whispered. “I just don’t
understand.”

Aren nodded. His eyes scanned the stars as
though he searched the heavens for words. “This ritual is going to
be different for you.”

“How? Why?”

“Your past is different.”

Ivar held his breath. Very rarely did anyone
talk about Ivar’s past. He had been adopted as a youngster. That’s
all that he really knew, though curiosity tormented him to learn
more. No one had ever told him where he came from, who his parents
were, or what his life was like before he had received the two
scars across his heart, and even that story was vague.

“What about my past?” Ivar asked.

“Amleth wanted to talk to you personally
about the quest. I’m not so sure you’ll be taking a Crossing. We’ll
have other challenges here at home for you.”

“At home?” Ivar stood stunned. This was not
news that he wanted to be hearing. “Why? Why at home?”

“Your skills with the bow excel above that
of any other young man here. You’ve truly impressed the elders with
your talent. We believe that you’re ready to join the men.”

“No. I’m not going to skip the Crossing.”

Aren’s blue eyes penetrated his. “Ivar, you
don’t have a choice. This is something that’s decided by the
council. They’re men who know the peril involved, and who know your
strengths and-” He hesitated when Ivar pivoted to face him, rolling
his eyes, “-and your weaknesses. Amleth will talk with you tonight.
I want you to listen to everything he has to say. Everything. Keep
your mind open. Respect him. We want only the best for you. Believe
me, we’ve discussed your situation in depth.”

Ivar’s shoulders dropped, his head fell back
as he looked at the galaxies far above. His body quivered in
distress. “We? Who has been talking about me?”

“The elders.”

The stars sparkled brilliantly against the
backdrop of the night sky. The air smelled fresh, the pepper scent
of watercress floated on the breeze. An owl hooted softly in the
trees somewhere, but Ivar failed to enjoy any of these solaces of
nature. Tonight the world was against him. “Why am I always
different?” he asked the heavens more than Aren.

After what seemed forever, Amleth open the
door to the yurt and wave for them to return. Ivar ran, and when he
entered, the room bustled with conversation. Ivar was estranged
from the excitement. His friends had their instructions, and were
probably given maps. He had naught.

“When your assignments are complete we’ll
partake in the ceremonial hunt together.” Amleth announced. “All of
you will join the leaders when the trees are fully budded and the
snows from the mountains no longer flood the waterways. That will
be your sign to return, wherever you are.”

With that, his friends rose and walked toward
the door. Tage gave Ivar a cordial smile, but his eyes glinted
sympathy before he stepped outside. Amleth stepped around the bench
to join Aren and Ivar.

“I don’t understand.”

Amleth positioned himself in front of Ivar,
the evening’s pleasantry still lingered in the chief’s smile.

“What does this mean for me?” Ivar shifted
his weight, trying not to grimace, but his heart pounded in his
chest, and heat rushed to his temple.

“You’re exempt from the quest, Ivar.”

“I don’t want to be exempt.”

“Ivar,” Amleth rested his hand on Ivar’s
shoulder. No doubt he sought to sooth the fire raging inside but it
wasn’t working. “This isn’t about what you want. This is about
what’s best for you. It’s about wisdom.”

“Wisdom? You mean the Songs? The Songs told
you to keep me from my Crossing? Look, sir, maybe I’m just too
young. I’ll wait. Maybe I’m supposed to go next year, instead. Just
tell me. I’ll understand. I’ll wait.”

“No, Ivar,” Aren whispered.

Ivar looked steadfast into his father’s eyes
as Aren exchanged glances with Amleth. “What are you not telling
me?”

Amleth cleared his throat. “Your friends are
going on a journey into their past so that they can better face the
future. Because of your more unusual past, we’re not going to lay
that burden on you. The council decided it’s better for you, and
for everyone involved, to have you skip that part of the ceremony.
There are other things you can be doing.” When Ivar opened his
mouth to protest, Amleth interrupted. “The decision has been made.
You’ll wait out the Crossing, or rather use the time here honing
your skills. When we gather for the hunt, you will be our lead
archer.”

Ivar mouth dropped open. “All I ever wanted
was to know my past. I want to discover my ancestry, my roots,
where I was born. I want to know who I am, who I was. Who my
parents were. How can you keep that from me?”

Amleth shook his head.

Ivar rolled his eyes. He shook with anger
but swallowed his feelings and took a breath. “It’s ludicrous. Of
all people . . . of all people! Why should I be exempt? I’m the
only one in the Kaempern Village who doesn’t know where I was born,
or who my parents . . .” Tears trickled down his cheeks and he
turned his head away, ashamed that Amleth might see him cry.

Aren broke in. “Son, Amleth, the Sage, and I
have all agreed that a quest into that part of your life would be
counterproductive. It’s too complicated. Perhaps when you’re older,
when you’re a man, you can take that journey on your own. But for
now, we want to spare you the frustration.”

“Ivar.” The Sage, Alex, walked up to the
three. Taking the youth by his shoulders he lifted the boys chin so
that Ivar was forced to look into the man’s hazel eyes.

The Sage was the only other dark haired
person in the village whose skin was olive colored, not pale and
freckled like the Kaemperns. He had come through a portal years ago
from a mysterious world. It was Alex’s son Ian who had sacrificed
living here with his father in order to expel the dragon. Alex
stayed on as the Sage once Amleth’s father Vilfred died, to teach
and guide the Kaemperns.

“Trust Wisdom, my son.” Alex spoke with a
comforting voice, like a man who had seen more than Ivar could ever
hope to see. “The Kaemperns have never before had an adopted child.
When we accepted you into our tribe, we allotted you full privilege
to grow and thrive with our people. It’s been a good an honest life
for you. You’re growing into a fine young man and we’re proud of
you. We know you have questions. There are secrets that are buried,
yes. But some secrets are meant to be buried.” He shook his head, a
deep sorrow in his eyes. “Trust me. You don’t want to dig them up.”
He paused.

Ivar didn’t want to hear those words.

“Some forces in this world are better left to
rest. Don’t stir the dust when the field’s been plowed for
planting. Trust me. There are other rituals that will bring you
into manhood.”

Ivar knew better than to argue with the Sage.
Being obedient wouldn’t change his disappointment though, and it
didn’t help him to understand the secrecy, either. If anyone were
to discover his roots, it should be him, for he was the most
distant from them. He wondered about the reasoning of the elder’s
decision, or if they were just afraid of what he might uncover.

Ivar looked at his hands as he rubbed them
together nervously. They were brown, not the pale freckled color of
the people he lived with, or the tan tone of the Sage’s. Ivar’s
dark hair hung straight and shiny, unlike the other Kaemperns whose
hair sparkled reds in the sun. His eyes were deep brown, not blue
like the sky, like everyone else he lived with. No. Ivar knew he
came from a different tribe, and he wondered if he’d ever know from
where.

It hadn't mattered much to him before this.
His friends used to tease him and he'd laugh and tease back, never
ashamed of what he looked like. He wore an endless smile that shone
like the moon on a dark night, at least that was how his friend
described him. And to Ivar, the Kaemperns shone like the sun. But
tonight this exemption separated him from those he called family.
Tonight Amleth’s gentle smile and pat on his shoulder, told Ivar to
accept the difference, but as Ivar followed Aren home, his stomach
was so sick he couldn’t sleep.

He tossed in his bed until he finally lay on
his back and stared out the open flap of the yurt window. The
moon’s rays shone over his sheepskin, the breeze whispered in the
trees, and Ivar let its murmur silence his brooding. He rubbed his
tongue against his front teeth, letting it rest in the gap, a habit
he found himself doing when he was deeply distressed.

How often had he lain in his bed at night and
stared at the moon as though it held his secret? Ivar would spend
many quiet hours carefully listening to the wind, in hopes its
songs would bring him news of his real mother and father. But the
world was silent to him, his ancestry buried in stillness. Envy
would wash through him when his friends recalled their younger
years, laughing about the experiences they had as children. But for
Ivar, all he could do is wish. He prayed to the Wind to help him
remember, but his prayers were never answered.