The Rock of Ivanore (5 page)

If I stay on this course, he thought to himself, I will never reach Dokur in time.

Had he the benefit of companions, each with a blade and a pair of strong arms, he could have cleared the trail in a matter of hours. Alone it would take days—and time was a luxury he did not have. Taking a moment to review the map on the scroll, the Agoran revised his plan. By shifting his path slightly west, he calculated that the distance through the Black Forest would be one mile instead of five. He would simply have to find some other way to reach the canyon.

His determination renewed, he struck at the thick, gnarled branches with his blade. Despite his slow progress, he expected to reach the outskirts of the surrounding forest by midnight.

The full moon was high overhead when the Agoran finally broke through the last barricade of branches. The silvery glow was a welcome sight, but not as welcome as the sheer cliff that rose directly above him. Since the forest grew right up to the foot of the cliff, reaching the canyon on level ground would be impractical. He would have to go over the mountains.

The Agoran sheathed his sword and made certain that the scroll, his drinking skin, and the prized leather pouch
were all fastened securely. While the sheer granite face might prove an impossible obstacle to most men, for the Agoran—whose catlike claws were as sharp and sturdy as iron nails—it was a welcome challenge.

The muscles in his arms and chest bulged as he began his ascent. The chill in the air cooled his skin and invigorated his climbing. He recalled the races he had won as a child, climbing rocks and trees in record time. What he lacked in agility, he more than compensated for with his strength. His human bone structure supported a denser musculature than those of his full-blooded Agoran peers, and he never failed to take advantage of it. Now, as he rose high above the forest, it seemed as though he could simply reach out his hand and grasp the stars. As he gazed out over the island, he considered for a moment the peace solitude had brought. He could still go back, he thought briefly, but instead shook off the temptation and increased his rate of ascent. He had lived in seclusion long enough. He had to reach Dokur soon—no matter what the cost.

he sounds of the nighttime forest were enough to cause even the bravest of hearts to quicken in fear, but Kelvin slept sprawled out on the ground, seemingly unafraid of anything real or imaginary. Marcus, on the other hand, sat with his back against a tall boulder, his eyes wide, scanning the darkness. He would not allow himself to be taken by surprise again.

Midnight had come and gone when Marcus finally convinced himself that it was safe to close his eyes and sleep. Just as his mind began to drift, he heard the voice again, though it was not a screech like before, but high-pitched nonetheless.

“Lie down and sleep, you stupid boy!”

Marcus was on his feet in an instant, scanning the forest, his lungs gasping for air, his heart racing. “Who said that?” he hissed.

“What do you mean ‘who said that'?” the voice retorted.

It sounded quite near, but Marcus saw only rocks and trees and endless darkness.

“Where are you?” Marcus called out.

The voice called back. “Here!”

“Where? I don't see anything!”

“That is because you are as blind as you are stupid, boy! I am here against the rock!”

Marcus looked toward the boulder, against which only a moment earlier he had been resting. Leaning against it was Zyll's walking stick.

Marcus approached cautiously. Kneeling beside the boulder, he examined the wooden eagle head. Nothing seemed different than before. The stiff, wooden face stared blankly forward like it always had. Marcus rubbed his eyes, blaming exhaustion for playing tricks on his mind. Then suddenly there was movement. A flicker of eyelids, a ruffling of dull, brown feathers, and a beak opening.

“Xerxes?” Marcus gaped at the bird.

“The boy's a genius after all,” said Xerxes sarcastically.

“But this is impossible—”

The bird squawked loudly. “Impossible for whom? What is so impossible about an enchanted walking stick?”

“It was
you
who screamed?” asked Marcus, recalling the screeching that had led Kelvin to his rescue.

Xerxes' image moved as if it were a living bird. His
eyes opened and shut, as did his beak when he spoke. If it weren't for his plain, brown surface so obviously carved from wood, Marcus might have sworn it was a real bird before him instead of a walking stick.

“You saved my life,” said Marcus. “If you hadn't screamed out when you did, that snake might have swallowed me in my sleep.”

Xerxes rolled his eyes and clicked his beak. “You could have saved your own life if you had only used that brain of yours. Take off my head.”

“What?”

Xerxes repeated his command. “Take . . . off . . . my . . . head! But replace it quickly, as I cannot speak when separated from my staff.”

Marcus obediently grasped Xerxes' head in his hands, giving it a firm twist. It pulled away from the rest of the wood, revealing a long, slender steel blade. Marcus inspected the weapon with awe and then sheathed the sword. “Zyll said you were full of surprises,” he said. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Master Zyll made me swear to get you back alive,” said Xerxes. “So how could I sit idly by and watch you get swallowed whole by a serpent? If I had done that, this stone might very well have been my only companion for a long time to come. Not that it isn't a good conversationalist, mind you, only . . .” Xerxes' voice dropped to a whisper, and Marcus leaned forward to hear him. “It's just that the stone's a bit of a gossip, that's all, and I simply detest gossips, don't you?”

Marcus thought of Zyll and the teasing the enchanter had endured as a result of this thing. He wondered why his master would burden him with such a disagreeable companion. Still, he
had
asked Zyll for a weapon.

“So, are you to be my guide?” asked Marcus.

The bird rolled its eyes again. “Heavens, no! I'm no guide. You have the key for that job.”

“The key? Zyll told me it would lead me to my destiny, but how is that possible when I can't even get it to work?”

“That is no ordinary key,” explained Xerxes. “It was forged in the depths of Voltana from the four elements: earth, air, water, and fire. Use it well, and you will become a mighty enchanter indeed.”

Marcus still held the key in his hand, and he now examined it more closely. “When the snake attacked me, the key got hot in my hand.”

“Yes,” replied Xerxes, “and the fire surged at your command!”

“But I gave no command.”

“You did not speak it, but in your heart you called for the key's protection, and it heeded you. Yet beware. The power of that key may be more than a boy like you can wield.”

“What do you mean?” pressed Marcus. “I can't even get it to obey my simplest request.”

“You will with time,” Xerxes explained. “I am to train you. In the morning, rise early before the others awake. We will begin tomorrow. Now,” added Xerxes, “you have kept me awake long enough! I must get some sleep!”

Xerxes gave one brief, screeching yawn, and then closed his beady eyes.

Marcus lay down on the earth beside him, his mind churning with everything Xerxes had told him. He gazed up at the stars and, after a while, started to count them. He insisted to himself that he wasn't in the least bit tired, but he soon lost count and drifted off to sleep.

t's just a dream.

Marcus repeated those words over and over in his mind, but the night suffocated him like a damp, dark shroud from which he could not escape. He struggled for breath. Rolling to his side, he dug his fingers into the loose soil, desperate to escape the unseen power that bound him. Then suddenly a light appeared, just as he had dreamed a hundred times before. In the light he saw the figure of—what was it?—an angel?

The image was difficult to make out in the bright light, and Marcus raised his hand to shield his eyes. The angel came to him, reached out for him, but as Marcus stretched out his hands toward it, something pulled him back.
Something black and sinister was overpowering him. He struggled to resist it. He called to the angel to help him, but the light receded until he was left again in darkness.

Marcus jerked open his eyes. The darkness that greeted him caused momentary alarm, but the sound of Xerxes' voice reassured him that the dream was over.

“Just how much sleep does an orphan boy need?” Xerxes was asking.

Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched, his heart still pounding. Clovis and Kelvin slept beside him, their positions unchanged from hours earlier.

“Let's get on with this, shall we?” said Xerxes. “We'll find a spot through those trees.”

Marcus hesitated. He could not even see the outline of the trees to which Xerxes referred. “It's too dark,” he said, lifting Xerxes in his hand and holding him close. “I can't see where I'm going.”

“A good first lesson, then.” Xerxes craned back his neck and twisted his head from side to side. “I'm a bit stiff from that damp night air,” he said. “Now, take out the key.”

Marcus obeyed.

“What do you want the key to do?” Xerxes asked.

“I don't know,” said Marcus, shrugging his shoulders. “I want light.”

“Don't tell
me
!” scolded Xerxes. “Tell the wretched key!”

Marcus held up the key between his thumb and forefinger. Its shape was hard to distinguish in the darkness, but as he formed the word
light
upon his lips, the key
began to glow just enough to illuminate a shallow path through the trees.

Once he and Xerxes were a safe distance from the camp, Marcus let out a gleeful shout. “I did it!” he said, hardly containing his excitement. “The key obeyed me!”

“I wouldn't feel so proud if I were you,” replied Xerxes. “Light is the simplest of effects. Even a babe could manage it.”

Marcus tried not to feel deflated by Xerxes' comments, but it was hard not to. He pushed his wounded pride aside and focused on Xerxes' next instructions.

“Zyll explained the nature of magic, of manipulating the elements, did he not? Now you must learn the art of transmutation.”

“Transforming one element into another,” said Marcus, recalling a recent lesson in alchemy.

“Yes,” continued Xerxes, “but it's not what you might think. Many a foolish man has wasted his life trying to turn rocks into gold. They've died in poverty, every single one of them—and they deserved it.”

“So what is transmutation, then?”

“Simply changing the state or nature of an object by manipulating the elements around or within it. For instance, should you come across a river that needs crossing, withdraw its heat and turn it to ice. Need to dig a hole? Move the soil. Repair a broken wall? Mend the iron and granite within the crack.”

Marcus thought of the satchel that hung from his shoulder. “I would like to mend this thing,” he said.

“Leather is organic; it has been taken from a living thing, as has wood, flesh, and foliage,” explained Xerxes. “You can manipulate energy or inorganic materials to affect it, but to transform an organic object itself is nearly impossible. Not even the great Zyll will do it.”