Diary of a Conjurer (32 page)

These new abilities to hunt swelled his
heart. Silvio’s powers would be an attribute for him the rest of
his life. Ivar’s name would be held in high esteem among his
friends when they see how easily he can bring down his prey.

Why, I might even be regarded as a sage!

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and
stood, brushed his hands on his shirt, and looked through the
forest. His heart pounded with excitement. He didn’t even need a
bow anymore, nor did he need a lance. His hands were deadly enough.
Ivar held them up to watch the swirls of light under his skin.
That’s when he saw the treasure. The image of the shining gold
dagger appeared in his palms. The cool of its hilt, the sharp edge
of its blade took his breath away. If he could be this powerful
with his bare hands, how much more powerful could he be with the
magic dagger?

“Where are you?” He spoke to the image.
“I’ll find you. And when I do I’ll hold the secret to sovereignty.
That witch will end her attacks on our people forever! But her
efforts are fruitless. With you in my possession, I’ll redeem all
the wrong doing I’ve ever done. I’ll free both Menek and Kaempern
from her clutches. I’ll free the wizards and the sorceresses
imprisoned by Hacatine’s power too!”

Memories again rolled through his mind like
waves of a tempest as he neared the Aspen grove. He’d been on this
mountain, and in the caves before. Not just as Ivar, but as
Daryl.

The sky lit up. Daryl laughed because the
dragon was doing its job. The sun’s reflection on his dagger shone
on the Golden Rock. Enchanted by the ray of light, the dragon dove
and spit his fire, melting the gold into nuggets that dripped to
the ground. The pirates harvested the nuggets, and paid Daryl for
his help in food. Apples, bread, cheese.

Yes, of course, the Golden Rock! The altar
the Meneks had taken their sacrifices to in the days leading up to
the war, when they worshiped the dragon before the dragon
disappeared. No one went that way anymore. Approach to the Golden
Rock had been forbidden, the mountain road from Menek sealed off.
The Northern people claimed it caused too much friction between the
tribes, and to have peace, should never be mined again.

Aren told him the stories when he was
younger, and now Ivar relived them.

The caves lead to the altar. I can find that
Golden Rock! I’ll find the gold!

Considered sacred, and
possibly still haunted, few people ventured through the caves and
usually only on quests of self-discovery. Ivar’s reason to enter
was as good a reason as any.
For me,
self-discovery is finding my dagger. It’s in the caves. Even
Hacatine suggested the dagger was somewhere in Deception Peak.
Indeed! If Hacatine’s spies are following me won’t they be
surprised when they’re lost in the caves! I’ll have my memory bring
me through the labyrinth. They have nothing!

When Ivar reached the soft layers of mulch
under the aspens, he ran. Dusk had settled long ago, but Ivar’s
power radiated from his entire body lighting his way like a torch.
He laughed, provoked by the sense of pleasure the magic gave
him.

Daryl raced through the caves, his dagger in
hand. He was on a mission now for he had overheard that the
Kaemperns were going to be mining the sphere that seals the portal.
Their plan was to chase the dragon away and seal it out.

Not so. That was Daryl’s dragon. He was
going to stop them. His ambush was in place. He would coerce the
dragon’s fire into the cave as soon as the sphere was on the
surface. Once the men were burned to a crisp, he’d grab the sphere
and use it as leverage to get the remote back from the foreigner,
from Ian. Then everything would be at his command, the dragon, the
gold, and the portal.

Daryl heard footsteps behind him.

Ivar turned around, startled, but saw
nothing. The walls of the cavern were tight over his head, forcing
him to crouch while he walked. The glow of his body illuminated the
cave and everything in it. When a spider dropped on its web in
front of him, Ivar flicked his fingertips and it fell to the
ground, nothing more than an ash.

“Nothing could harm me now!” he thought.

“
Adrian, you found me.” Daryl
said.

“
Your pirate friends told me you were in
here, but walking in the dark is not one of my fortes, or I would
have found you sooner. I brought you something.”

“
What? A gift?” The boy lit up.

“
Something you’ve been wanting for a long
time.”

The image of a man stood at the far entrance
of the cave. Ivar remembered him vividly; a pudgy fellow who always
wore a pea coat and a thick wool scarf around his neck. His nose
was a red, ears a bit too big for his balding head, and whiskers
roughened his cheeks. Adrian, the first mate who taught him the
ways of the sea when his parents had died. He had hired Daryl onto
the ship, and when the storms kept the boats at bay, it was Adrian
who found him a home with his nephew Andre. But Adrian was as
wicked as the captain, using Daryl’s talents for his own gain.

“I know you,” Ivar scowled at the vision.
“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been like your papa ever since you were
a child. Took you in, taught you the ways of the sea, I did. Had a
lot of hope in you.” The man’s voice sounded almost remorseful as
his blue eyes shifted to the ground. “Blasted Andre rotted your
soul though. Taught you wrong. You should have stayed with the
captain’s family. I thought I was doing right.”

“That’s not true. I learned to hunt from
Andre. I learned survival. Look at me. I’m strong now,
powerful.”

Daryl took a step closer to the man. “What
do you have for me?”

“
The key.”

“The key?” Ivar asked.

“The key to the portal to take us home.”

“Home? You can take me home?” Ivar stepped
closer, his heart pounding. Reaching out toward the vision. “May I
have it?”

The boy laughed.
“You?
Monsieur
gave you the key? It is a trick,
non
?” He laughed an evil
laugh.

“
Not me.” Adrian chuckled. “He gave it to
someone I hired. And we did the tricking. That’s why we have it
now, not him.”

“
Then let me have it.” The boy reached
out to receive the game controllers, but Adrian didn’t offer
it.

Ivar withdrew his hand.

“
No, Daryl. Not now. You need to fulfill
your promise, first.”

“
Promise?
Mon conseiller
, you do
not trust me? When my mission is done.”

“What did I promise you?” Ivar asked the
vision.

The man shook his head. “I just wanted to go
home,” he said, his lower lip trembling.

Ivar’s brow furrowed. “And didn’t I help
you?”

The man’s beady eyes looked up at him. They
stung, as if Ivar should know the answer to that.

“Tell me.” Ivar took another cautious step
toward the vision. “Where is home?”

Adrian shook his head. “Same place as yours,
boy. At the edge of the sea so far away I’m afraid I’ll never see
it again.”

“Nonsense,” Ivar assured him, his own
yearning for home swelled inside. “We’ll go there together. I have
powers now. I can do that.”

The man dropped his eyes again. “It’s too
late, now.”

“
No, Daryl. I can’t wait. It’ll be too
late. No one can go back when your mission is done. You know that.
I won’t give you the key until you get us home like you promised.
That gold is doing us no good here.”

“
I will not help you now. Je ne peux pas
partir maintenant. There is much work to do.” The voice faded as
Daryl slithered into the darkness of the cave.

“Wait, where are you
going?”
Ivar turned toward the junction
and followed the boy’s voice. He could hear Adrian’s footsteps
behind him.

“
When your work is done, I’m had.” Adrian
called out. “Get me out of here now, or I’ll give this blasted
thing back to the man it belongs to, and have him bring us
home.”

Daryl laughed and the sound resonated
throughout the caves. “Mais, non. He will not bring you home,
Adrian. You are his adversary. Your threats do not bother me. In
time I will take you home.”

“
You’re a little liar.” Adrian hissed as
he stumbled through the dark cave in pursuit of the child. “You
were like a son to me. Look at you now.”

When Ivar looked over his shoulder, beads of
sweat poured down the phantom’s face. Ivar stopped and waited for
him. “You saved my life, didn’t you? You were the only one who
cared about me back then? You called me son? Can’t I help you?”

The man leaned against the cave to catch his
breath.

“I’ll get you out of here. I’ll help you.
You’ve been imprisoned by Hacatine haven’t you?” Ivar asked but the
vision didn’t respond.

“
You are a fool Adrian. I will take the
key from you.” Daryl jumped, the dagger in his hand, arm pulled
back he thrust the blade into the man’s chest.

Adrian bent over. “What are you doing to
me?” He cried in agony but again and again the boy stabbed Adrian
until the man collapsed on the ground in a pool of blood.

Adrian lay still at Ivar’s feet.

Ivar stepped back. The phantom dagger clung
to his hand. Blood had splattered on his clothes. “No,” he cried
and then his cry turned into a scream. “No.”

The vision of Adrian faded quickly, but the
dagger took its time disappearing, fused to his skin, the stain on
its blade being the last color to disappear, melting into his
pores.

“No!”

Ivar fell to his knees and sobbed.

“
You are a fool Adrian,”
the boy said again. “Merci beaucoup
.
” His sinister laugh echoed through
the cave as he raced away.

“You murderer!” Ivar called at the top of his
lungs. “I hate you!”

Footsteps sounded through the channel. A cold
wind picked up blowing against his face, numbing his nose, his
cheeks and his ears. In the wind was a choir of male voices singing
a lament.

Time alone devours the past

And Death will swallow its own

Will you willingly lay to rest

The guilt for life that’s gone?

Wretched hearts will mourn in song

Eyes will cry their tears

But life of woe must still go on

And pain you still must bear.

“No.” Ivar stood. The air stilled. No longer
did he hear the Songs of Wisdom. “You’re wrong,” he shouted to the
Wind. “I’m not like that. I’ll go back. I’ll change things. I’ll
follow that boy and stop him. I have a Wizard’s power now. I’ll
bring this poor soul back. This can’t have happened. I can’t have
done this. I would never have done this!”

Whether the heat in his body was from the
magical energy that soared through him, from the fever of his
despair, or from the pressure of the cave, or all three, he didn’t
know. Ivar burned. Fire moved him. He ran, following the sound of
his own feet from years ago.

He had no thought of what he would do, what
he could do. It didn’t matter how tight the walls squeezed in
around him, how little air there was to breathe, how his shoulders
beat against the jagged rocks and made his flesh tear open. Ivar
ran in pursuit of the Daryl.

Way to Nowhere

The day prior, with the help of a tall
stump, the Xylonites had helped Silvio onto the back of a plump
little roan. But this morning in the prairie, the task was more
than a chore. There were no stumps anywhere. In fact, there was
nothing but dried grass and a very long shoreline. As hard as the
Xylonites tried, there just weren’t enough of them to lift the old
man up from ground level. The sky was turning a golden orange, the
morning now dawning and already they were hot and sweaty from their
efforts.

“I can help.” It was the third time Promise
offered. Silvio had been ignoring her, preferring to let the
Xylonites’ frantic little voices drown out her voice. The sorceress
was already sitting on her dapple mare waiting patiently, no doubt
listening to the ‘umpfs’ and ‘ughs’ of both Silvio and his
musketeers as they teamed together to fight gravity.

“I said, I can help,” she repeated.

Both Silvio and Xylepher sighed in unison.
The conjurer squinted up at her.

“How can you help?”

“I can lift you.”

Silvio blew out a laugh. What hair that
hadn’t stuck to his head from sweat flew about his eyes.

“Do you doubt it?” she asked.

“Sir?” Xylepher asked.

“What?” Silvio hadn’t the
strength to give the little soldier his eye-popping look. He felt
so old, so inept. And now his right-hand-man wanted to ask the
assistance of a sorceress.
How much more
humility must an old conjurer endure?

Promise slid off her horse before he could
answer, and one of the little people set her cane in her right
hand. She felt her way toward the roan, touching its nose when it
breathed on her, and then held the knotted cattail bridle with her
left hand until she stood next to mare’s withers.

“Where are you?” she asked.

Xylepher nudged Silvio and the old man
stepped closer to Promise, not without mumbling a protest. “I’m
here,” he finally admitted.

Promise grasped the mare’s mane for support,
and bent her right knee, pointing her toe to balance her weight.
“Step up.”

Silvio looked at Xylepher, red in the
face.

“Either that, or walk to Deception Peak,”
Promise said. “I’ve seen Hacatine’s maps. It’s not an easy
hike.”

The conjurer only stared.

“What’s wrong Silvio? Are you too proud to
touch me? It’s not like I have any magic that will turn you into
pea, not anymore. I thought we’ve gotten over our differences.”