Diary of a Conjurer (17 page)

He chuckled to himself, thinking how fun it
would be to take her back to the Northern forests and show her off
to his friends. “You might like it there.” Ivar took a sip of tea
and scooted up out of the sand. “We have heroes too you know? My
father, for one.” Ivar wished he could tell her more, but he didn’t
know more. Only that Aren had done heroic deeds during the war.
“They won’t tell me exactly what he did.” He shrugged, studying the
leaves that had settled at the bottom of his mug. “I don’t know.
Maybe it’s all connected–the war, my childhood, and my parents.
Amleth acts like I’m not supposed to know. Like it’s for the best.”
He glanced up at her, noticing how sympathetic her eyes were. It
was safe to tell a statue these things, and it felt good to get
them out in the open. “I’m not supposed to be doing this either, my
Crossing. Not according to Amleth. But the magic winds told me I
could. So see? I’ve got magic!”

The waves pounded on the beach in answer, a
comforting sound now that he was safe on shore. The fog hung low
again, neutralizing any color that had been struggling against the
gray. Ivar loved the salty fragrance of the ocean, and he didn’t
mind the fog so much either. He threw another log on the fire and
warmed his hands.

“I can’t say as anything is really going
right with my quest, though.” He snickered. “Nothing as planned,
anyway, and I’ve only been gone one night. Look at me! No weapons.
All of my clothes are back at Moor Cove. Think you could do a
little magic trick and get them here?” He laughed at his request.
“Don’t suppose you could. Though I suppose despite my ill fortune,
all is not lost. You!” He held his mug up toward her. “My fine
lady, burned a hole in my head and saw my past. So now I shall seek
to find a way to get you out of that predicament you’re in so that
you can tell me what you saw!” He drank the rest of his tea. The
flames of the campfire sparked and popped with new energy, casting
fire light onto the statue, restoring the bronze color more natural
to her race. He sobered as he stared into her eyes.” Thank you,” he
whispered. “Thank you for saving my life. I hope I can return the
favor someday. Maybe today, even.”

When the words left his tongue, her eyes
widened and Ivar’s heart stopped.

“That spell won’t last forever.” Silvio said,
having snuck up behind him.

Though startled, Ivar kept his eyes on
Promise, hoping to see her move again.

“But she won’t wake up yet,” the conjurer
added, clanging an array of pots behind Ivar. “I’ve made sure of
it. It’d be a wicked thing if she did.”

“Freezing her is wicked.” Ivar looked over
his shoulder and gawked.

Several dozen-miniature people dressed in
green tunics and baggy pants followed Silvio to the campfire. They
brought tiny wooden bowls and eating utensils, circled the fire,
and then nestled on a log.

“Bah!” Silvio said, so loud Ivar’s attention
was drawn away from the little people. “What kind of wizard would
set a sorceress free from a spell he just made? He’d be just as
wicked as she is.” He lifted a large cast iron kettle onto the
coals.

“I think you’re jumping to conclusions.”
Ivar sat back against the log, switching his scrutiny between the
gentle face of the statue, and the curious activity of the little
people who had been exchanging seats with one another. “You
shouldn’t be so quick to judge her. She saved my life. There must
be some good in her.” He tossed a wood chip in the fire pit,
reflecting on her touch the night before, and her apology, ignoring
how rough she had been when she first tied him up.

“Bah! What’s to say that was a good thing to
do? There’s no good in evil. None.” The old man spoke with decisive
stubbornness.

Ivar didn’t care to argue
with him, having already formed his opinion concerning the
wizard.
He broke off a limb protruding
from the fire, and pushed it farther into the coals causing a
stream of smoke to puff into his eyes. “Who are these people?” He
waved the smoke away and nodded toward the little men and women
that sat near his feet.

“Xylonites.”

“Xylonites? Descendants of Xylon?”

Silvio grunted.

“I’ve heard of them. Xylon was the little
war hero who played a major role in the battle of the Eastern Edge.
So you must have known Xylon too?” Perhaps there were more things
Silvio knew. Perhaps he’d been in the war and could tell Ivar about
his father’s heroic acts.

Silvio raised an eyebrow while he stirred the
boiling broth. He didn’t say a word.

“I probably would have met him, too. The war
ended the year I was wounded. All I know is from stories the
Kaempern elders tell. Which isn’t much.” He pushed the stick at the
coals. “Not what they’ll tell me, anyway.”

Silvio sat quiet for a moment, and when Ivar
looked up he noticed the old man staring at him.

“You can thank King Ian,” Silvio mumbled.

“Thank him? For what?” The scowl on the
wizard’s face puzzled Ivar.

“Thank him that the Xylonites have a heart
for men. If I had my way, I’d toss you back into that skiff of
yours, and let the waves drive you through whatever portal you came
from.”

That sliced Ivar’s heart. He didn’t care
that the old man didn’t like him. The feeling was mutual. The
wizard’s words suggesting Ivar came through a portal pierced him.
He knew he wasn’t a Kaempern, but to think he might be a foreigner
from another world was devastating.

“Here, eat some food. Get some strength. You
deserve to eat, I suppose.” Silvio set a bowl in front of him.
After he had scooped a spoonful of stew into each of the Xylonite
dishes, he poured Ivar a healthy serving.

The broth was warm, a little bit sweet, and
satisfying with plenty of chunks of vegetables to chew on. Ivar’s
appetite was so demanding that he set the spoon on the sand next to
him, lifted the bowl to his mouth and drank the tasty gruel. It
wasn’t until he laid his empty bowl down and wiped his mouth with
his arm that he noticed Silvio staring at him again. Belly full,
Ivar burped.

“I know you,” Silvio’s voice had a haunting
ring to it. It spooked Ivar.

“What?”

The wizard’s stare was unnerving. Ivar
shuffled against the log.

“What do you mean you know me?” Ivar asked.
“We’ve never met.”

“No? Maybe not.” Silvio pointed his gnarly
finger at him. “But you came with a witch into my forest, my
kingdom. You and your traveling companion don’t belong here. You’re
lying to me. If you are a Kaempern, why are you here?”

“I’m on my Crossing into manhood. It’s a
ceremony the Kaemperns take when they come of age.”

Silvio waved and sneered. “Fool youth.
Manhood! Ha! You’ve a long way to go for that! You were nothing
more than a pile of flotsam when you got here. If that makes you a
man, you’ve a lesson or two to learn.”

“Flotsam is it, then?” Ivar nodded toward the
statue. “If you want to know more about me, why don’t you ask
her?”

“I want nothing from a Taikan,” Silvio
hissed setting his pot down and waving away the thought. “Nothing.
If you’re finished eating, we’ll go now.”

“Go?”

“Away, and quickly. Hacatine will be here
looking for her. And you! I’m taking you to the Point. Maybe Alcove
Forest if I have to. Hide you away somewhere until I know who you
are. It’s a long walk but it will keep you out of trouble.”

Ivar laughed. “Who’s to say I’m going
anywhere with you?”

Silvio alternated his focus between packing
his pots and pans, and glaring at Ivar. He carried his cooking gear
to the edge of the woods and stashed it in a patch of milkweed.
“Not coming then? Very well. Let Hacatine haul you away.” He
stretched his arm and pointed toward the sea. “Go with her to the
dungeons of Taikus. Go to Wicked Queen’s torture and her death
chambers. What do I care?”

Ivar’s smile faded as the old man railed.
“Dungeons?” He’d had enough imprisonment being tied to a sinking
ship. Maybe Silvio was a crotchety old man, but there could be
truth to his warning.

The conjurer began his trek down the beach
with little people at his feet. Ivar took another glance at the
statue, the sea, and then the frozen sorceress again. He jumped up
and ran after the wizard.

Westward

So gray was the day that little distinction
could be made between the sky, the shore, and the ocean. Whenever
Ivar set his foot forward he was never sure if he’d step in dry
sand or if foamy sea would rush against his knees. He trailed
behind Silvio and watched the wizard waddle in and out of the fog,
jumping from the waves as if he’d melt should the water touch his
toes. Ivar chuckled at the sight and wondered if the old wizard
could even swim.

Ivar paused once and looked over his
shoulder toward the campsite he had spent the morning. The
campfire, the boat, nor the statue were no longer visible, but
rather lost in the clouds that hugged the earth. How far away they
had ventured, he didn’t know. Remorse crept into his heart and he
frowned. What would happen to the mysterious sorceress who had
saved his life? Would he ever see her again to ask her about his
past? What would she do with that information?

“Are you coming?” Silvio called from
afar.

As Ivar neared the wizard a new terrain
appeared to his left. Boulders formed steep cliffs that reached so
high the crests of the embankment disappeared. A fragrant scent of
fir suggested a forest on the rim. Rocks scattered on the beach
made passage more difficult.

“You’ll need clothes,” Silvio said as Ivar
approached. “Something to hide that dark skin of yours. Don’t think
the witch queen won’t be looking for you! Hacatine will find your
friend and steal information from her with her magic, and then
you’re doomed. Either that or the girl will voluntarily tell
Hacatine everything she knows about you. If she looked into you,
you’re ruined.”

“She wouldn’t do that. She tried to save
me.”

“Bah!” Silvio turned his back on Ivar and
meandered toward the cliffs. “You cannot trust a Taikan. She’ll
tell them everything she knows. Where you are. Who you are.”

“How do you know so much about the
Taikans?”

Silvio didn’t answer.

“What does it matter to Hacatine where I am
or who I am?” He climbed on a boulder.

“It matters because you were her prisoner,
and now you’re not. That’s what matters. A proud queen that witch.
No one escapes her clutches without a pursuit!”

“I’m not so sure Promise would give her any
information, though. Besides, she doesn’t know where I am. She’s
stone remember? You can’t see when you’re a rock!” Ivar jumped from
one boulder to another. “Anyway, I think she likes me.”

“Ha! Likes you? She belongs to the Queen. She
can’t like you. A warrior has no life of her own. Once they find
out who you are, the witch will be combing these beaches looking
for you.”

There it is again.
Exactly who does the wizard think I
am?

“Silvio, old man, wait!” Ivar jumped back on
the sand in and let the waves splash over his toes. The white of
the breakers rolled and tumbled farther off shore, curling with a
mighty slap, resonating its release with a rumble, only to recede
and start the pattern again.

Silvio stopped to wait for him.

“If I don’t even know who I am-” Ivar’s hair
blew into his eyes, and across his face. He wore a smug smile as
his voice rose over the sound of the ocean. “How can Promise
possibly know who I am?” How could Silvio know?

Silvio didn’t answer; instead he stretched
out his left arm and twisted his fingers at Ivar. With a moan that
sounded like an elk’s mating call; the conjurer spoke a spell that
emitted a stream of green dust.

Ivar coughed and waved his hands to clear the
minute particles that flew around his face. When the magic dust
cleared, he was wearing a tunic.

“Green?” Ivar spread his arms in question
after shock had settled to a mere disgust. “You gave me a green
tunic?”

“It’s the only color that ever comes out.
Curse of the trees, I suppose. Don’t complain. It’ll hide you in
the forest.” Silvio walked up to him, his bottom lip quivering as
he inspected the tunic, brushing the creases out and adjusting the
leather laces that wove across his chest. “It’s not that bad.”

“Why not brown? Or black? You’re a wizard.
You should be able to do anything.”

“Conjurer.” Silvio’s eyes glazed over as if
he were drifting into another world. “Never made it to wizardry.
Never could go back and learn the more difficult tricks of the
trade. That’s not your concern though, not now. Later, if ever. We
don’t have much time now.” Silvio looked up, shielding his forehead
though there was no sun. Dark clouds floated dangerously low as if
rolling in on the tide. “There’s wind in that storm. Winds that
will fill Hacatine’s sail and bring her here quicker than a bee
flies home. There is only one place for you to go and we need to go
quickly.”

“Only one place to hide?” Ivar regarded the
rising tide and the urgent skies. “And if I don’t get there in
time?”

The wizard’s left eye widened as he hissed,
his hair blowing over his mouth. “She’ll consume you faster than
you ate your porridge this morning. She’d probably be a bit tidier
at it as well.”

Ivar grimaced at the comparison.

“It’s your soul she wants. Don’t be a fool.
Run from her.”

The old man’s words penetrated into Ivar,
sending a shudder up his spine. “How do you know something like
that?”

With a twist of his head Silvio started his
trek again, his hair flying, his feet stumbling over the rocks and
avoiding the waves.

Ivar hadn’t started this journey running from
anything. He was a Kaempern on a quest, seeking information. Why
should he run? The Northwind protected him and as long as it was at
his back, he was moving in the right direction.