Third Power Page 8

  The old wizard nodded slowly to himself. “I am sorry, Steven. This is partially my fault. Death has simply been a part of life here for so long it hadn’t even occurred to me how you might react to seeing it for the first time--let alone killing anyone yourself.”

  The young would-be wizard shook his head, the look in his eyes distant. “I don’t like it. I feel like I’ve done something very wrong.”

  “No,” Haldorum said firmly. “You were not wrong for doing what you did tonight. You reacted because of a threat to your life. If you had not killed that shangee it would most certainly have killed you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I was there. I heard what it said, I saw what it tried to do but it doesn’t change anything. You said yourself that thing out there was once human, and every time I think about how I killed it I just want to puke.” Steve brought his knees to his chin and wrapped his arms about his legs. Quietly he added, “I want to help you. Really, I do. I just…I don’t know if I can.”

  Haldorum thought for a moment and then asked, “Could you take the life of a man who stood ready to kill your mother?”

  Steve looked to the elder man questioningly and then shrugged. “I guess I wouldn’t have much of a choice.”

  The wizard nodded satisfied. “Then, yes, you can help us. There are mothers, daughters, fathers and sons dying every day at the hands of Azinon and his minions—and that is not even to count those souls lost to the plague he has wrought.” Haldorum took Steve’s hand in his own. “There is great power in you, Steven. And it is different than I have ever known before. It is almost as though your magic is alive and conscious within you. It carried you faster than the swiftest horse when you fled this camp and, as you have already said, it granted you a glimpse of what was yet to be. Both times you did not shrink away from that power, you used it to save a life.”

  There was no mistaking that look on Haldorum’s face: the old wizard truly believed in him.

  “You can help us to crush Azinon. Please, Steven. You must at least try.”

  Steve looked down at their locked hands. He wondered how he would later feel if he did not at least attempt to help. “I’m still not sure,” he said. “But I suppose I can at least stick around long enough to see what this crystal can do.”

  “Wonderful!” Haze said as both he and Scott walked back into the firelight. The burly warrior tossed Steve a rolled up bearskin, much like the one Scott carried. “I’m glad to hear it, lad; I’m sure your final decision will be the right one in the end. Until then, I think we could all do with a little sleep. It has been a busy day.”

  Haldorum clapped Steve on the shoulder and then left while Scott sauntered over and spread his bearskin out on the grass. “So we’re staying, huh?”

  “I am,” Steve replied. “I’m sure Haldorum could--”

  “Forget it. If you stay, I stay.” Scott cast his gaze downward and kicked a stone clear of where he planned to lie down. “I just better not wake up to find you spooning me.”

  The sun crept slowly clear of the horizon and the first rays pierced the camp when Haldorum nudged the sleeping young man into wakefulness. Steve moaned a half-conscious protest and pulled the bearskin tighter around him.

  Haldorum sighed. With a magical wave of his hand, the bearskin rolled him out onto the dew-drenched grass. Steve immediately jumped to his feet, spitting out a blade of grass in disgust. He brushed off the front of his bloodstained sweats and looked around sleepy-eyed. After a moment, his eyes focused and he said, “I just know you plan on telling me what that was all about.”

  Haldorum said nothing as he walked over to one of the horses and mounted. Sensing the old wizard wished him to do the same, Steve turned his palms skyward in question. “We’re not even going to eat first?”

  The wizard grabbed at the air and an apple appeared. Tossing it to the youth, he said, “Here, you can eat on the way.”

  Steve glanced to his friend still sleeping on the ground and Haldorum said, “I am afraid this excursion is for wizards only.”

  The young man eyed the elder suspiciously but moved to the second mount.

  In a few minutes the two of them were saddled up and riding out of camp. Steve’s stomach still rumbled hungrily despite the apple, but he barely noticed it, focused as he was on their surroundings and keeping one hand close to the hilt of the rapier strapped along the top of the saddle bag.

  “They do not come out during the day.”

  Steve looked away from the countryside a moment. “What?”

  “The shangee,” Haldorum explained. “They shun the light of day. Unless Azinon himself forces them out of their holes, they are loathe to venture into daylight. You are quite safe.”

  “Oh, okay,” Steve replied sounding not quite convinced. As they continued to ride, he gave his best effort to face straight ahead and relax, but kept a wary eye moving left and right all the same. Haldorum chuckled.

  “So where are we going anyway?” Steve asked suddenly, more so to get his mind off his paranoia than anything else. As they crested the next hill, Haldorum gestured before them with one hand. Before them the terrain descended, the hills giving way to a flat, grassy plain. A few miles further on, the plain ended at a line of trees that marked the edge of a heavy forest. Dense and thick, the expanse of trees ran along the horizon like a seam between the earth and sky.

  “That, my boy,” Haldorum said resting his hands on the front rim of the saddle, “is the Memsherar. An enchanted place, ancient and mysterious.”

  Steve squinted into the distance left and right but the forest extended beyond his vision in both directions. “Enchanted, huh? Any particular reason we’re going there?”

  “Yes, very particular,” Haldorum returned. “Something is waiting for you.”

  Steve waited expectantly for the rest of that information, but nothing. Finally, “And that something is?”

  “I do not know,” he shrugged, “but the forest does. You shall find out when you get there.”

  Steve couldn’t help but smile. “Ah, the forest knows. You do realize you just anthropomorphized a bunch of trees?”

  “You forget whose world you are on.”

  Steve’s smile faded and he cocked his head, conceding the point.

  “I am sorry I cannot be more elucidating, Steven, but I honestly do not know what awaits you. Every person born unto magic, however small or great their talent, is at some point in their life drawn to this place. Some of those who journey here receive visions--”

  Steve raised a hand and shook his head. “No more visions, thanks.”

  Haldorum shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. The events differ from one person to the next. Some receive visions, others are made aware of the destiny. Still others come to fully understand themselves to cope better with their abilities. I am taking you there now to save us the possibility of the forest calling you at a time when it might prove inconvenient to our cause.”

  Steve nodded at the logic. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Though I’m not exactly sure what it means to fully ‘understand yourself’, but it doesn’t sound like such a bad thing.”

  The two continued another couple of hours before Haldorum finally reined in his horse. “I am afraid this is as far as I go. You are on your own from here.”

  Steve turned his mount to face the wizard, his horse pawing the earth in agitation. “Can’t you at least tell me where I’m supposed to find...whatever it is I’m looking for?”

  “You will know it when you see it.” Haldorum paused a moment and then added, “Unless, of course, it finds you first.”

  Steve shrugged, supposing there wouldn’t be any better of an answer than that. Stroking the thick mane of his mount, he leaned forward and whispered to his horse, “Feel like a run?” Half-rearing, the horse turned on its hind legs and bolted into a full gallop.

  “So much exuberance in that boy,” Haldorum commented aloud as he watched him ride off, then he shrugged and turned his horse about.

 
; Steve reveled in the sensation of sailing across the plain as the wind whipped past his face and filled his lungs with the late morning’s fragrance. Never was there such a feeling of freedom as when he was riding full out on the back of a horse. He remembered his first time kicking his mount into a full gallop on his grandparents’ ranch when he was ten. Then, it was like racing with the comets across a starlit sky while whole planets yielded to his passing. The horse beneath him now ran with war-born stamina toward the forest as though there was no tomorrow, and soon the first line of trees was but a hundred yards away. He slowed the horse’s gait then, allowing the animal to cool down as they neared their destination. Now, being so close, Steve had no trouble believing there was indeed something unusual about this wood. The whole of it emanated a strange kind of passive power, almost as though he were sensing the very life force of the forest itself. And then, ten yards from the first trees, the horse halted abruptly and cocked its ears forward.

  “What’s wrong, fella’?” Steve asked with a pat on its neck. He nudged the horse with his heels but the animal backed away even further, refusing to advance.

  “I see. Well, if you’ve made up your mind…” Steve dismounted at that. “Looks like I walk from here.” He unstrapped Mr. Martin’s rapier in its crude sheath from the saddlebag and proceeded on foot. His confidant stride slowed to barely a crawl, before he finally stopped entirely before the two foremost trees standing out from the rest like two sentries in the total stillness. He could not explain his reticence, but something made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

  Horse has probably just got me spooked.

  With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and moved forward.

  He crossed the border of the Memsherar, feeling some barely tangible barrier give way before him, like the delicate fibers of a cobweb passing over his body, and then suddenly life teemed around him. Birds singing overhead, the rustling of leaves, the wind rushing through the tangled boughs above, the smell of wood and sap and moist earth drifting lazily in the air; his senses flooded with the sights and sounds of the forest. Curious, Steve glanced back over his shoulder but could not account for the strange phenomenon. Then he faced front and marched on, to whatever awaited.

  Steve felt small—really small—as he trudged ever further into the domain of the Memsherar. The immense trees dwarfed him, forty feet around and rising straight and tall like pillars holding up the canvas of the sky. Broad carpets of moss crept up the north side of these giants, reminding him of still photographs of waves breaking against the shore. Everything about forest seemed to be on a grand scale. Steve sized up the width of one particular giant and surmised that it would have taken at least ten men to reach around its circumference. Towering above, the limbs intertwined in an intricate latticework that made up the forest’s ceiling.

  Steve pressed on, initially feeling certain at any moment he would discover whatever it was he had been sent after, but after his second hour of tromping through the forest he began to lose hope. By mid-day all he had to show for his efforts were several miles and countless trees behind him. He sighed as it became disappointingly clear this was not the in-and-out mission Haldorum had led him to believe.

  Steve sighed again, loudly. “This is getting old.”

  “I agrees with ya’ completely.”

  Steve froze. He had not seen or heard another living soul since entering the forest, yet that voice was startlingly close. He scanned the area around him with a cautious eye but could not pinpoint the source of that voice.

  “Naw, down here, lad.”

  Steve looked down and couldn’t believe his eyes. Straddling his shoe like a horse was a little man he guessed to be no taller than five inches standing, dressed in a tiny green tunic and breeches, and little pointed-toe shoes that looked like they were fashioned from leaves.

  “Hiya’,” the little man greeted cheerily with a wave.

  At first Steve said nothing--couldn’t say anything—then he lowered an upturned palm that the tiny man accepted happily.

  “Might kind of ya’, lad.”

  Steve straightened and a slow smile of wonder spread clear across his face. “This is too wild! Who are you?”

  “Name’s Jiv,” came the reply. “An’ by the look on yer face I’d say ya’ve never seen a sprite before. Who might you be?”

  Steve held out his index finger, which Jiv shook enthusiastically with both hands. “I’m Steve. And, no, I’ve never seen a sprite before. I’m kind of new to your world.”

  “From another world, are ya’?” Jiv huffed and looked impressed. “Never knew there be another aside from this one. At least ya’ speak the language well enough.”

  “Actually, your language is the same as mine.”

  Jiv put his hands on his hips and whistled. “Now isn’ that a coincidental accidental? Eh, by the way, wot is it that brings ya’ here to this neck of the wood, lad? Few humans, if any a’tall, ever come scoutin’ about the Mem. Septin’ a’course them--” The little man stopped short at his sudden thought, then he stomped once and slapped his thigh. “You’s one a them wizard-types, aren’t ya’?”

  Steve shrugged. “I think that remains to be seen, but that is the going theory.”

  “Ah knew it, ah knew it,” Jiv said more than a little proud of himself. “Ah knew it when ah first laid eyes on ya’. Ah said to meself, ‘now that looks like a lad with purpose, but not a place’. Yer lookin’ for one of them wizard-like things that you wizard-types are always lookin’ for, aren’t ya’?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Steve said suddenly more glad than ever to have run into this little fellow. “You sound like you know something about this. I’m supposed to have some sort of vision, or something.”

  “Yep, yep,” Jiv said nodding. “That would be them.” He then turned and took up a position at Steve’s fingertips facing the forest. To Steve, it reminded him of the portrait of George Washington crossing the Delaware. “Well, let’s get on with it then, lad. Sounds like an interestin’ little venture you’ve set before yerself, and ah aims ta’ find out ow’ it turns out.”

  Steve laughed and he started out once more. The little man’s gregarious personality and friendly disposition was a welcome change to the unease the forest had been instilling in him all day. Gaining a companion was exactly what he had needed.

  “So tell me, lad,” Jiv asked as they traveled, “ow’ is it that ya’ve come ta’ this here chaos-ridden little stretch we call home?”

  “A wizard named Haldorum brought me here yesterday.”

  The whites of Jiv’s eyes about doubled in size. “The First Power a’ Mithal?

  Ho-ho! Ya’ must be somethin’ pretty important for the likes a’him to take an interest in ya’.”

  Steve plowed his way through a wide swath of brambles, seeing no easy way around, his stained sweats catching and snagging on every groping branch and twig.

  “So did his great powerfulness give ya’ some notion as ta’ what yer seekin’ exactly?”

  Steve could only shake his head. “No. And, believe me, I tried. All he said was that I would either find it or it would find me.”

  The tiny sprite threw his hands up in flamboyant exasperation. “Now, ya’ see? Seems like all them wizard-types act like they took a blow to the ‘ed; always talkin’ in riddles and actin’ all mysterious-like. After a while ya’ gets so ya’ don’t even make sense anymore. Do yerself a favor, lad, and don’t ya’s never stop makin’ sense.”

  Steve smiled crookedly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  That said, Jiv’s attention went to the weapon in the young man’s other hand. “Say, that’s a right nice lookin’ harpie-poker ya’ got there. Killed anythin’ yet?”

  He nodded solemnly, regret flashing across his face. “A Shangee.”

  The little man reared back, thoroughly impressed. “Well, awright! Anybody who retires one of them nasties is aw’right by me. Filthy servants a’ the Dark One, they are.”

  Steve’s
brow knitted in concern at the mention of the sorcerer. Their encounter had been brief--fortunately for Steve--and he was in no hurry to go another round with that one.

  Noticing the far-distant look on his newfound friend’s face, Jiv asked, “Ya’ feelin’ awright? I didn’t mean ta’ upset ya’.”

  “No, it’s all right. I was just thinking.”

  Jiv turned and seated himself on the heel of Steve’s open palm and rested his forearms upon his knees. “Okay, wot about? From the look on yer face, ah’d say it wasn’t a pleasant thought.”

  Steve cracked a half smile at the understatement. “No, not very. You could say I had a small run-in with that sorcerer you mentioned.”

  The sprite very nearly lost his perch at that revelation. “Fairy’s dust, lad! Ya’ve got ta’ be pullin’ ol’ Jiv’s leg! Ya’ should be considerin’ yerself lucky ta’ be alive! Ah’ve heard tell a’ some rather unfriendly things about the likes o’that one.”

  Steve ducked under a tangle of low hanging branches saying, “After what I went through with him, you can bet they’re all true. You know much about him?”

  “Much,” Jiv nodded in reply. “The Memsherar is ancient beyond all things great and small. Kind of like the Oracle, ya’ could say--but even older.”

  “Wait a minute, you lost me,” Steve said perplexed. “What does that have to do with Azinon?”

  The little man’s mouth twisted and he hit himself in the forehead with the butt of his hand, as though remembering something he should have known all along. “Ah forget yer still new ta’ our ways. Ya’ see, it’s like this,” he said. “Although ah’ve never been there meself, ah’m told the Oracle is a big magical thing shaped like a ginormous opal. If you get to it--and few do--it will grant ya’ the answer to yer question. The Mem, however, can give ya’ information about the past and present. It’s just a matter a’knowin’ ow’. Either way, though, it’s not good ta’ know too much about either one, if’n ya’ know what ah mean.”