Diary of a Conjurer (19 page)

Silvio, on the other hand, had no intention
of sleeping. Danger hovered over the company. No one but he could
understand the peril that pursued them. The static of Hacatine’s
presence made his hair stand up like stickers on a prickly cactus.
It would be his duty to protect this callow Kaempern from harm.

Too old to fight the wicked queen, and
lacking any kind of magic that might defeat her, his only hope
would be his cunning. He’d out-smarted her before; he could do it
again, that is if Ivar didn’t botch things up. Silvio scowled at
the boy, now peacefully curled on the mossy bed. Wizardry still
rumbled inside of Silvio like roaring thunder, but he was old and
bent, and his bones ached constantly. He didn’t know how much
longer he could go on. There was a lot of responsibility, taking
care of the Xylonites, protecting the forest, keeping the evil
Queen of Taikus from finding him and stealing his powers, and now a
fool youth to worry over.

Maybe I need an apprentice. Maybe this magic
wind of the Kaemperns sent Ivar to me for that purpose. Fate knows
if I were still living on Taikus, if Taikus were still free and
ruled by the King, I’d’ have been given someone to train and
transfer my powers to.” He licked his chapped lips, a cold sweat
rolled from his brow as he took in the stars. “I cannot run from
the witch queen forever. The Xylonites lack thinking abilities. To
whom, then, do I hand my staff? I live the life of a hermit and
rarely see another soul. And then comes this young mudblaster
wandering in my forest. A quest he says. No other reason to be
here.

Silvio listened to the
distant surf and the singing crickets near his bed.
Ivar would need to be tested. He’s not too smart,
but I’ve seen some honor in him, misplaced though it be.”
Misplaced onto a sorceress. Silvio tossed on his
bed and closed his eyes. “Bah! I don’t even know who he is!” he
mumbled.

Before he let himself doze,
Silvio eyed the young man, his dark lashes sealing his eyes, his
mouth half open revealing those two flat teeth with a space between
them.
Looks familiar. Looks like the boy I
saw when King Ian was still here. Bah!

Silvio looked again.
Could it be?

Years ago the wizard had
been forced to hide from the witch queen, seeking refuge in a cedar
tree. Though the sorceress never found him, she caused a great fire
in the forest. The heat melted the sap of the cedar and fused him
to the tree. Years passed, all the while Silvio was nourished by
the life of the cedar. Two wanderers from another world looking for
a place to hide their weapons chose Silvio’s stump as a cache. A
smile came over the conjurer as he remembered the two.
Those were good days.
Finally, I had a purpose!
He stared
at the young man, recollecting that day when a thief broke into the
cache.

A dark-haired boy just like this Ivar. Yes,
just like him. Same wide eyes. Impatient. Didn’t tarry long. He
might have liked to. Could tell by his grin shining in the dark,
he’d come back. The little devil tore through everything. Made a
mess. Looking for a saddle. Not one of those big saddles laden with
silver and fancy lacings. No he took the little one, and a bridle
and a blanket. If he’d been smart, he would have grabbed some
saddlebags and some rations. Maybe he didn’t know about the food.
Running, no doubt about that. Running scared. I remember that gap
between his teeth. Couldn’t mistake it, not for a moment. Could be
him, this Ivar. Still in danger, too, more danger than before if it
is. North Wind or not, I’d better not trust to give him my
powers.

The Bells of Skerry

“I slept well, really well.” Ivar yawned and
skipped to catch up with Silvio. Perhaps a new day would find a
better side of the old man. They descended the steep bluff to the
beach. They had bedded in the woods on the bank above the water
overlooking a quiet cove. The inlet was well concealed with a
passage that only the Xylonites and special conjurers knew about.
At least that’s what Silvio told Ivar.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Skerry Cove,” Silvio muttered as he gestured
in the direction they were walking.

“Skerry? My people tell tales of Skerry.”
Ivar’s heart fluttered. He loved the Kaempern legends, especially
the sailing stories. He absorbed every detail, and now visiting the
place of their origins made him lightheaded.

“Do they? Stories of shipwreck no doubt.”
Silvio asked.

“Yes. Some. And of the bells.”

“Ah, yes, the bells.”

The cove was dark, shadowed by vertical
pillars of black rock, much like the slate found on the trails at
Deception Peak. Ingrained shells and fossils marked the high tide
line in the cliffs that came to Ivar’s waist. When Ivar and Silvio
entered the cove, the water had already receded leaving tide pools
in the crevices of the rocks.

“Look out that way!” Silvio said.

Ivar turned to the horizon. “It’s Menek over
there, isn’t it?” Ivar asked, shielding the rays of the morning sun
from his eyes as he gazed across the water at his homeland.

“That it is.”

“What’s to the west of us?”

“Alcove Forest. A safe place. And Elysian
Fields, a peaceful meadow your people visit often. Two days ride to
your village from there. Land of wild horses. If you catch one, and
if they like you they might take you home.”

“I’m not ready to go home.” Ivar looked at
the wizard suspiciously. Why was he in a hurry to send him home?
“Not until my mission is complete. Not until I know who my parents
are, and if they’re still alive. I want to meet them. Are there any
other tribes nearby?”

“No. No tribes on this side of the water.
Maybe in Alcove Forest you’ll have time to think about whether you
should go home or not. That Dragon Shield will keep you safe. Might
be the best thing for you. Maybe you’ll gain some sense on the
journey. Maybe.”

“Look!” Ignoring Silvio’s mumblings, Ivar
pointed at a small waterspout on the beach. “Look at that! Clams!”
He raced down the hill. He couldn’t remember how long ago he had
tasted shellfish. He pulled off his tunic, fell on his knees and
dug his fingers through the coarse sand where he’d seen the spout.
“Food, Silvio. Breakfast!” Ivar smiled at the old conjurer who
hadn’t moved. Silvio’s mouth hung low, his eyes fixed on Ivar.

“What? Haven’t you ever seen a clam before?”
Ivar laughed at the look of amazement on the old man’s face when he
held up his bounty.

“Clams on the rocky beaches of the
Northland?” Silvio asked

Ivar’s grin remained, but Silvio’s words
confused him. “Are you lost, old man? We’re not in the
Northland.”

“No. That’s just it. We’re not.” Silvio
scratched his beard, still gawking. “That’s what I mean.” He added
under his breath, “How would you know about clams?”

Ivar shook his head, disregarding the
wizard’s remark as trivial. Perhaps Silvio was older than he looks
and lacked some of his mind. “You say some strange things.”

Silvio grunted and lowered himself carefully
next to Ivar, but his hands were slow and his digging
unsuccessful.

“Don’t worry about it. I can gather enough of
these clams for you, the Xylonites and me too. Look how many I’ve
already harvested!” Ivar pointed to the shellfish stacked on his
tunic. “I’m a born hunter. I promise, you won’t grow hungry with me
around. I can take care of you!”

It was clear that the exercise wrought havoc
on Silvio’s bones. Once the conjurer maneuvered his crooked body
back up, he waddled slowly toward the cliff and sat on a rock in
the shade while Ivar harvested shellfish.

“You know, old man, I have to admit I wasn’t
going to stay with you.” Ivar wrapped the tunic around the clams,
tied it, slung the bundle over his back and joined Silvio in the
shade. “You struck me as being sort of, I don’t know, grumpy. But
after thinking about it for a while, I’m a Kaempern, and Kaemperns
take care of their elders.” Ivar’s chest puffed a little. “I can
take care of you for a while, if that’s what you need!” He sat next
to Silvio, resting the tunic bulging with clams on his lap.

Silvio had no reply, only a steady gaze on
Ivar, his fingers combing the sand from his beard.

“What is it about sorceresses and wizards
that they stare so much, like they think they can find out more
about me just by gawking?”

Silvio grunted, but didn’t answer, nor did he
drop his gaze.

“All right, then answer this question. If
this is Skerry Cove, where are the bells I’ve heard so much
about?”

“Past that point. Keep walking, and you’ll
see the jetty.” Silvio was quick with that answer. “Treacherous
waters. These cliffs have witnessed tragedy beyond your years. Some
say this is the place where the first portal from the Otherworld
spat into the sea. Foreign waters mixed with ours, and when that
world's belly had been spewed through the portal, rock and sand
followed, piling from the depths to form that jetty. A pretty sight
in good weather, but when the winds turn foul no one can sail near.
Ships meet their end here, pirates, fishermen, wizards,
sorceresses, and vagabonds all lay in her graveyard.”

“I have to see them! Come on, Silvio, let’s
have a look.” Ivar grinned with excitement, offering his enthusiasm
to Silvio.

The old conjurer gave in. “We’ll look.”

Ivar was in the lead this time, jumping from
boulder to rock, splashing in tide pools. The gentle breeze and the
cool sea air made him laugh. When he saw the jetty and heard the
hollow sound of the iron bells that rang on the buoys near it, he
paused in awe. This was Kaempern legend. On stormy nights the
haunting sound of the Bells of Skerry could be heard clear across
the ocean, all the way to the Kaempern and Menek coasts. His people
say the song will ring forever, so long as the Realm has a sea. And
here he stood! Watching them rock gently in the water, the hollow
iron clang in rhythm with the breaking tide. How many Kaempern boys
wished they could see these bells? Ivar was most fortunate of
all!

The jetty, a narrow gray landmass, meandered
out into the sea where it disappeared under white caps. Currents
tore at the sandbar from both east and west, meeting together in a
spray of foam. The bar itself gave the appearance that a casual
walk would take one all the way to Menek. Ivar knew better, having
heard the tales.

To be caught on the jetty of Skerry when the
tide comes in meant certain death, be it on foot or by ship. The
raging high tide pulls and twists the waters, even in fair weather.
And then there are the bells. Something about the long foreboding
tone of the clapper beating on iron sparked Ivar’s memory, but he
couldn’t place it.

So this is the secret of
sorcery, is it?
Ivar thought.
A jetty impersonating a beach, having the power
to entice its victims until the unsuspecting soul is fully consumed
by its trickery. Unaware, the victim is sucked into the shallow
ledges of the reef and held under the raging waters until death
consumes him!

Silvio had just rounded the bend when Ivar
turned and faced him.

“Watch this,” Ivar said. He grinned wide and
picked up a clamshell, holding it high so Silvio could see.
“Watch,” he repeated as he tossed the shell in the air, caught it,
and then held up his hand to the wizard. The shell was gone. Ivar
chuckled, delighted that the old man’s eyes grew wide. He pulled
the shell from the cuff of his sleeve and showed it to the
conjurer, laughing.

Silvio stood stunned.

Silvio and the Queen of Taikus

“He made a mockery of
wizardry? The nerve!
Weren’t for that song
I’d leave him to his devilry! Bah!”

It was an old song, a melody that had echoed
through Alcove forest many years ago, this time with new lyrics
that boiled Silvio’s blood. Not only did it convict Silvio against
deserting the youth, but also it confirmed who Ivar was.

Oh woe to the loss of the young man fair

Whose dreams float away on the midnight
air?

Who found his hope in the dragon’s lair?

Though the dagger is gone

Its spirit lives on

The Beloved lays prey, to the ancient of
days.

Give strength to the youth so far from
home.

Give strength to the youth so far from
home.

“Give him what? Bah! A tiny bit of magic is
all I have and I’ll not pass it on to the likes of him!” Silvio
shook his fist in the air, angry with the Northern Wind and its
song. “He made a mockery of magic. I’ll not give it to him! I
won’t!” He turned his back to the sea, cutting short any further
conversation with the wind. He mumbled to himself as he walked
through the moonlit sand dunes, kicking up shells and granules with
his toes.

“I’ll not be listening to your voice. Fool
idea, making Ivar my apprentice. Not right at all. Sing to some
other fool. The boy’s a rascal. A scallywag I tell you. The powers
of a conjurer would be peril in his hands. “The old man shivered
more from his hot temper than the cold. “Not wind to listen to,
even if the Kaemperns did declare you wise. No accounting for that
little miscreant. You could be wrong you know!”

Silvio had retreated to the beach earlier
that evening seeking solitude after Ivar had fallen asleep. Now,
after hearing the songs and rejecting their meaning, he began his
lonely walk back to the campsite. The moon was full. The sands
glowed blue in its light, the air warm and breezy. The only sound
was the constant rumble of the sea, until branches snapped behind
him. Bent and unable to move quickly, he turned around, unprepared
for the surprise that waited.