One Realm Beyond (3 page)

Cantor took off at a faster pace, eager to finish this chore and get back to a fine fish dinner, more talk of the planes, the initiation, and perhaps an invitation to accompany Odem on his journey to set things right between Richra and Derson.

He did his cleansing in the tepid flow of water from an underground spring that fell from the rocks into a pool deep enough to dive into and wide enough to provide a decent swim. The water from the depths of the plane was warm, unlike the snow run-off in the lake.

He soaped up, rinsed off, and soaped up again. Following the second dive to the bottom to remove every bubble clinging to his skin, he hauled himself out and shook his head. Water splattered the bushes around him. He looked for a towel and realized he’d forgotten to bring one.

Grinning, he pulled on his shirt first, then wrangled the rest of his clothes over his damp skin. He plowed his fingers through his wet hair, taming the curls only marginally. A yellow songbird landed on a branch, tilted its head, and let out a trilling whistle ending with what sounded like a hiccup. It repeated its performance several times.

“I hear you.” Cantor leaned back with his hands at his hips,
puckered his mouth slightly to whistle, and echoed the yellow bird’s song.

The bird hopped about the branches, twittering in excitement. It stopped to sing again. Cantor obliged with a reply.

“I’ve got to go now, bird. Ahma is fixing dinner and tonight is a special” — he held up a finger — “make that a
very
special night.”

He went out of his way to pass through the edge of the forest where he gathered a variety of greens and herbs. Ahma loved fresh greens in a huge bowl of salad. He hoped his old mentor would be in a good mood for the initiation. He plucked sweet tamaron from a vine. The tiny purple buds would spice up the vinaigrette. Another favorite for Ahma.

Perhaps the initiation would be easy, and Ahma would not growl and grumble over all the wasted years she spent educating him. The smell of fried fish and maizy bread wafted from the cabin. Odem played his fiddle. Ahma sang with a pure voice for one so old.

The fiddling stopped as soon as Cantor crossed the threshold.

“There he is,” said Odem. “Let’s eat.”

“You ate a bowl of soup in the middle of the afternoon.” Ahma shook her stirring spoon at her guest. A blob of thick gravy splatted on Odem’s faded green shirt. Ahma reached over and swiped at the spot with a rag. “You shouldn’t be hungry for hours yet.”

“Not hungry, dear woman. Craving the taste of your delicious meal on this old deprived tongue.”

“Deprived tongue?” She scoffed. “You’ve a depraved mind, I’m thinking.”

Cantor crossed the room, threw his dirty clothes into his
bed closet, and then gave Ahma the produce he had gathered. “The words aren’t the same, Ahma. Depraved means he commits evil deeds involving blatant turpitude.”

Ahma squinted at him. “I never taught you the word turpitude. Where are you coming up with words I didn’t introduce you to? Have you been down to the village on your own? You know that’s dangerous.”

Before he could remind her of the books Odem left with him, she continued. She addressed the kittens climbing the dog Tom and sliding down his sides as he lay on his blanket in a corner. “This Cantor thinks he’s smart. Time he went out into the world to learn how ignorant he really is. I’m hoping he lives through the disappointment of only having a mediocre mind, a limited talent, and no possible means of advancing his lowly life on his own.”

Cantor sighed. So his role tonight was scoundrel and knave, not beloved sent by Primen to give her life purpose.

Although the meal smelled and tasted wonderful, Cantor found it difficult to eat with his usual gusto. When would the initiation begin? How long would it take? If he flubbed an answer, would he get a second chance?

He tried to think of a calm night sky filled with stars and distant platters floating in space. Soon he would be traveling to the planes alone. No Ahma to chaperone. No Odem to pull him out of an interesting exploration. Perhaps a mission assigned just to him. He’d helped Odem on several occasions when the old realm walker tackled a problem on some other plane. But in those cases, he’d helped by carrying knapsacks, setting up a camp, and fixing meals.

“Now, son!” Odem’s voice boomed in the small cabin. “It is time to commence your initiation.”

Ahma rose from the table. “Let me clear off all this clutter first.”

Cantor clenched his jaw. That would delay them another hour while the old lady put every blessed object, after being scrubbed and polished, in its right place. Suppressing a sigh, he rose to help. Maybe nurturing a better mood in his mentor would hasten the beginning of his initiation.

“Nah,” Odem said. “The boy’s waited long enough. Don’t exasperate the youth.”

Ahma muttered but sat down again. She folded her hands on the tabletop and gave her attention to her friend.

Odem winked her way, then turned a serious face to the initiate. “Question, Cantor. Answer me this. Who has first claim to your allegiance?”

Cantor’s mind raced. He’d expected questions about herbs, travel safety, levels of guild standing, diplomatic tactics, history of the realms, but nothing like this. Perhaps it was a trick question. They’d never discussed allegiance. Surely if this concept was important enough to be the first question, they should have discussed it.

Ahma patted his hand and gave him an encouraging smile. “Take your time, Cantor. We can wait as long as it takes for you to get comfortable with your answer.”

At least he was back to treasured apprentice. Ahma’s kindness permeated her voice, her expression, and even her posture as she sat on the stool. All fine and good, but he had no answer.

Think this through. Think. He must. He could come up with the right answer if he put his mind to it.

Was his first allegiance to Ahma and Odem for the love and care and guidance that had brought him into his
twentieth year? The answer would have to be just one of them, so Ahma would be correct. That didn’t seem right. The statement seemed too small.

Allegiance to Dairine? His realm? Realm walkers defended the weak, guided those of little talent to solve problems, and cleared away obstacles that caused the same to stumble. But realm walkers worked on various planes, not just the one called home. No, this allegiance needed expanding.

To the guild? That could be it. The guild organized, trained, promoted, and provided for the realm walkers so that they could do their jobs. Odem’s distrust of the guild dampened his desire to name the guild. A mystery there tainted an allegiance to these powerful men.

The wizard? An inept, absent, dying wizard? Perhaps when the leader had been in the prime of his life, but now? Odem’s voice flowed through his memory. “Even the wizard is under authority.”

“Primen!” Cantor blurted out the word, and then hoped it was right. It felt right. It felt big enough. “Primen, He who spun the worlds to life and spins them still.”

Both Ahma and Odem nodded with smug pleasure on their faces.

“You did well.” She started to rise. “Now we put the house to order before turning in.”

“But — but — ” Cantor stuttered. “That’s it?”

Odem chuckled and picked up dishes to take to the counter. “Allegiance to the proper authority is the only thing that matters, son.”

“But I don’t remember you teaching me anything at all about Primen.”

At that, Odem leaned back his head and laughed. Nahzy, outside, brayed in answer. “Then how’d you learn it, boy?”

Pinpricks awakened memories, songs of praise, songs of thanksgiving, stories of the forefathers, a word here and a word there. Everything Ahma and Odem did reflected their allegiance. He’d absorbed the concept rather than reading it in a book or listening to the particulars in a lecture. He knew to whom he owed his allegiance.

DRAGON REALM

C
antor carried split wood to the stack between two massive oak tree trunks. The crude wall of logs towered above him, enough fuel to keep them warm all winter. For a long, frustrating week, Odem had helped Cantor begin the woodpile. Cantor begrudgingly admitted that to leave without making provision for Ahma’s winter would dishonor the code of the realm walkers. Even though winter was months away, Cantor wisely refrained from pointing that out. Finally, business lured the old man away from the restful cabin. He left, muttering about retirement.

The young realm walker paused when he saw a portal opening. Through the breach that allowed him to see into another realm, he spied a dragon flying over a thick forest of dark evergreen. He dropped his burden and started toward the arched gap. Tom just as quickly took up guard duty, standing between Cantor and the portal.

With a disgusted sigh, Cantor gave up his rush to adventure. “I know, Tom. I’m ready to go alone, but I have to get permission.”

The dog sat with his mouth open and tongue lolling out, a doggy grin. Cantor went to him, knelt, and gave his ears and ruff a sound rubbing. The dog was almost like a brother, a big brother, one who had constantly kept an eye on him since Cantor learned to crawl.

From an early age, Cantor had been fascinated by the gaps in walls, trees, landscapes, lakes, and houses. The images of distant lands filled the gaps. He’d tried to pass through the portals when they appeared and before they snapped shut. But Tom’s sole job when watching the crawling babe had been to keep him on this side of the arching doorways. When Cantor toddled, Tom herded him back to Ahma’s side. When Cantor ran, Tom shape-shifted from dog to dragon and swooped in to snag the determined boy before he slipped into another realm.

All these years later, Tom still guarded Cantor from his own curiosity. They entered the realms many times, but always with Ahma or Odem at their side.

If legends were true, he’d been born somewhere else. A village wiseman would have recognized a babe’s potential to be a realm walker. This sentinel would notify the guild, and the guild would send a messenger to take the child and deliver him or her to a suitable mentor. Cantor would never know of his real parents. He didn’t even know which plane he’d been born on. Not that it mattered. He loved Ahma and Odem as if they were written in the records as his ancestors. And Dairine was his home.

Both dog and boy heard Ahma’s burbling laugh as she climbed the path, returning from the village.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” she called. “This time you’ll go through, Cantor, on your own. It’s time you acquired your dragon, so be patient a moment longer.”

Cantor raced down the path and gathered Ahma in a big hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning in a circle.

She batted at his shoulder with a free hand. “Put me down, you knuckleheaded oaf. Have some respect for your elders.”

He lowered her to the ground and planted a noisy smacker of a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “We must hurry,” he said, pointing back toward their cabin. “It could close any second.”

She walked calmly beside him as he explained that the gate had been open for quite a few minutes.

“It will be there when we get there,” said Ahma in a raspy voice that rattled with her intake of each breath. “And if it’s not, another will open shortly. You’re drawing them to you whether you know it or not. That’s how I know your time has come.”

She limped and wheezed until he could stand the slowness no longer. He plucked her up in his arms, carrying her like he would a child. She weighed less than a big sack of potatoes.

“You should’ve ridden to market in the cart.” He squeezed her. “Whatever possessed you to walk all that way when Midge is perfectly willing to pull you up the mountain path as well as down?”

“Midge is getting old. Her bones ache.”

Ahma was old enough to be his great-great-grandmother. “The donkey isn’t as old as you are.”

She cackled.

He loved her odd laugh as much as he loved the old woman. He put her down beside the tree stump she often used as a stool when she sat in her yard. Her body folded without much grace, and she plunked down with a
whoomph
escaping her
lips. She dug in the cloth bag that dangled from a long strap over her shoulders.

“I’m not going to tell you all that I’ve already told you about finding your own dragon.”

Cantor nodded.

“Remember only one is your match, and don’t settle for something less than that perfect companion.”

“You
are
going to tell me, aren’t you?”

She wagged her head. “No, no, only the important things.”

“You’ve lectured me all my life that everything you tell me is important.”

She pulled out a small wheel of cheese. “Put this in your knapsack.”

He ran into the house to gather up his traveling bag and a few essentials. When he returned, Ahma had several things in her lap. “Hold that bag open.”

He did, and she dropped in a flint, a couple of appletons and a pouch of gold and silver traps, coins used in all the realms. She handed him a hat shaped like the top of a mushroom with a bill on the front to shade his eyes. She’d managed to sew the object to a perfect fit, and the colorful patches indicated she’d used a bit of cloth from every scrap in her trimmings bag.