Footwizard

by Terry Mancour

  “How are you feeling, Lord Kanlan?” I asked, politely, as I pulled a stool near his head. Lilastien began checking the dressing on his back.

  “I . . . I feel better,” he admitted, surprised. “The poppy gum has worn off, and I don’t feel the same pain I did. That’s remarkable,” he smiled. “There’s still some pain, but not nearly the torment I endured before.”

  “The wound looks well-closed,” Lilastien pronounced. “Let me change the dressing, and we’ll help you stand.”

  “This place is a wonder, Count Minalan,” Kanlan said, shaking his head as his doctor worked on his back. “I’ve known about it since I was a boy, but never thought I’d see what was behind that great door. If I’d known what I do now, I would have found a way.”

  “A wonderful legacy from the Ancients,” I agreed. “I’ve made a kind of hobby about studying them. You’re doubly fortunate, as Lilastien was trained as a physician on Perwyn, six centuries ago. She’s the only one who could have used this equipment as adeptly as was needed to aid you.”

  “To be honest, it felt good to practice surgery again,” she admitted, as she dispensed something from a beaker and rubbed it on Lord Kanlan’s wound. “Your people are talented in the art and built some ingenious tools to aid their efforts. Were,” she corrected. “Nowadays the most common surgery is amputation, unfortunately. But I was glad to help,” she smiled. “Now, if you’ll help support his shoulders, Minalan, and if you’ll swing your legs around, Kanlan, let’s see if you can stand, yet. The anesthetic has worn off, so you shouldn’t have any trouble,” she predicted.

  In moments, the Wilderlord was, indeed, standing, first with support and then by himself. He managed a few cautious steps across the tiled floor of the Infirmary before breaking into an enormous grin.

  “No pain! Not to speak of, at least – it’s still a bit tender, and there’s the occasional twinge. Can I . . . can I take a little walk?” he asked, pleadingly.

  “Only down the hall and back,” Lilastien agreed. “But then back into bed. You can rise again for dinner if you use a cane,” she proposed. “And take Minalan with you, in case you stumble.”

  “Astounding place, this,” Kanlan said, as we slowly shuffled down the hall. He glanced into the other chambers along the way with a mixture of curiosity and awe. “Dr. Lilastien showed me a few of its wonders before the operation. Music. Pictures. She showed me the world our ancestors came from before they emerged from the Void.”

  “A rare and special treat,” I agreed. “Our ancestors had even greater wonders at their command. All without magic. They were the greatest of mariners; they were able to cross the Void, in their giant ship. They ruled the air, once. They built a great civilization when they first arrived. This place was built at its height,” I gestured, when we got to the end of the hallway where it opened to the common room of the installation.

  “But why?” Kanlan asked, mystified. “Why build such a wonder in such a strange and remote location?”

  “To watch the volcano,” I explained. “They saw it as a danger to the entire colony, and they set this place as a watchtower over it. It was designed to warn the rest of the colony if there was a danger of a major eruption, so that they could take steps in advance.”

  “I’ve watched that mountain my entire life, and it’s never done more than smoke,” he dismissed. “Their fears were unfounded.”

  “This world is nearly nine billion years old,” I informed him. “In the realm of rocks a few centuries are but moments. But our ancestors were cautious, about their adopted world, and preserving their security here was paramount. Thankfully, their efforts survived . . . and as a result you can now walk without pain,” I pointed out.

  “So I can!” he agreed, a big grin splitting his beard. “I almost didn’t notice it, you had me so distracted.”

  “The wealth of this cave is not in its medicine, though that has been helpful,” I continued, as he turned around and headed slowly back to the Infirmary. “It is in its records.”

  “I have not seen many books or scrolls around,” he said, confused.

  “Our ancestors had more efficient ways of storing their knowledge,” I explained. “As I said, studying their methods has become a hobby of mine. I have access to their archives, and more works than I could read in a mortal lifetime. But I hope to find the answers that I’m looking for, there.”

  “Answers to what, my lord?” he asked.

  “Oh, a great many things,” I said, not wanting to try to explain the nature of my many quests. “Things that will help in the war . . . and perhaps improve my people’s lives. Questions about the mysteries of our ancestors . . . the nature of the Alka Alon . . . the enigmatic Sea Folk who control our fate. The sorts of things of interest to wizards. But I am a liege lord, as well,” I reminded him. “This place is within my territory. I’m claiming it for my own,” I informed him.

  “As is your right, my lord,” he agreed. “I confess, I would not know how to approach its secrets.”

  “As your liege lord, I have a responsibility to care for my vassals,” I continued. “That’s why I directed Lilastien to help you. I’m hoping the things we find here can help a great many of my subjects. That is my primary duty.”

  “As it is with any good lord,” he agreed.

  “As such,” I continued, “it is my responsibility to protect my subjects from any foreseeable danger.”

  He halted his progress, just a few steps shy of the Infirmary. “Is there danger, my lord?” he asked, suddenly.

  “Yes,” I sighed. I’ll speak to your people of it, tonight. But I wanted to prepare you, first. One of the things that I have learned since we opened this cave is, indeed, a danger to your people. My people,” I corrected. “One that could kill them all, if nothing is done.”

  Kanlan suddenly looked anxious. “Really, my lord?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I sighed. “I’ll explain in more detail, tonight, but there is, indeed, a danger to all of Anghysbel. The kind that this place was designed to alert us to. But I have a plan to contend with it. One I will need your assistance with.”

  “Of course, I shall do whatever I can to help, my lord,” he assured me, as he continued walking toward the hospital bed. “But this news concerns me.”

  “As it should. But we have some time to prepare. Enough, I hope. But do not worry – compared to some perils we face this one is relatively straightforward. I just did not want you to be taken by surprise. Get some rest, Kanlan. I’ll explain further at dinner.”

  “He handled the news well,” Lilastien observed, after we’d taken our leave of the recuperating Wilderlord and headed for the common room.

  “That’s because I led with a vague premise, without too much detail, and then assured him it was well within my capabilities. Basic spellmonger practice,” I smiled. “Never tell the client too much, and always act like you can handle his problem, no matter how great or small. Later, you can explain the details, slowly, carefully, always leaving a little out. If you tell him everything first, he thinks he understands it and can quickly lose confidence in you. Worse, he might object to the price.”

  “Interesting approach,” she admitted, as we settled at one of the three tables in the common area. “You’re planning a general evacuation?”

  “I don’t really see a good alternative,” I sighed. “We can resettle them in Vanador easily enough. But the passage through the wastes will be difficult.”

  “I’m sure that you can find a way,” Lilastien nodded, as she started to fiddle with her medical scanner. “Especially with Forseti’s help. His capabilities have expanded significantly since he came here. Besides providing me with entertainment,” she chuckled. “Your people had a history of technologies that, I think, could prove very useful to you. Forseti can lead you to some of that, now.”

  “He’s already producing a guidebook for our expedition into the wilderness,” I agreed. “I’m hoping he can tell us something about the Forsaken, while he’s he
re. He wants Gareth to work with him for a while to that end.”

  “Perhaps,” she shrugged. “But there is so much more he can do, here. We’ve been discussing some possibilities . . .”

  “Don’t we have enough quests ahead of us to be looking for more?” I countered.

  “It’s all the same quest, Minalan,” she said, shaking her head. “To save the world. And make it better, a bit. That’s really the only quest there is.”

  Gareth, Nattia, and Ormar rode up the trail on horseback a few hours before dusk. They’d had to leave the wagons behind, thanks to the boulder in the path – something which irritated my alchemist mightily.

  “That rock offends me,” he said, indignantly, when he dismounted. “Tomorrow, I’m going to fix it!”

  “Without magic?” snorted Nattia.

  “With alchemy,” Ormar shot back, proudly. “The kind you don’t need active magic to create. You see, back at my workshop at the Stenchworks is a fifty-gallon glass tank the size of a bathtub, filled with the vilest substance known to man or nature: the stomach acids from a dragon.”

  “And you brought this tank with you?” Nattia asked, as she dismounted. “You intend to melt the rock with it?”

  “No. But do you know what happens when you soak a bale of cotton in it for a few minutes, and then let it dry? And then repeat the process? You get something I call Dragon Cotton. Highly volatile. Explosive. I brought some. And I’ll use it to remove that boulder. No active magic involved,” he boasted. “Hey, what’s for dinner?” he asked, glancing over to the pavilion where the servants Lord Kanlan had brought from Anferny were cooking over an open fire.

  “They better prepare more than that,” Nattia sighed, as she stretched. “We saw Ithalia on her bird as we were coming up. It looks like Tyndal and his knights are returning from their hunting.”

  As if summoned, the radio at my belt started to chatter. It was Ithalia’s tinny voice that came from the little box.

  “Can you get them to clear the lower part of the clearing for me?” she asked. “Kaunotar doesn’t have room to land!”

  “That’s her bird’s name!” Nattia whispered to me when I looked confused. I fumbled with the box until I found the proper switch.

  “I’ll take care of it, Ithalia. How many should we add to our dinner plans?”

  “Nine,” she reported back, after a moment. “Two of the Anferny knights went back home. The rest are headed up to the cave now.”

  It only took a few moments to convince the cooks and servants that half the meadow was needed to allow a giant hawk to land. And then a few more moments to explain how we were getting nine unexpected guests for dinner. Ithalia landed Kaunotar effortlessly on the ledge, which did not comfort the horses one bit; but after she dismounted the bird was happy to perch on a smaller ledge above the cavern entrance and stare majestically out over the valley. The cooks, however, went into a tizzy over the extra mouths to feed.

  Tyndal and his company took care of that, however, when they rode proudly up the trail; they had killed a deer on the way in and were happy to dress it and butcher it for the cooks. It wasn’t the only trophy they brought up the mountain with them: Tyndal triumphantly opened a sack and displayed two freshly killed goblin heads. Both had small holes in their skulls.

  “Those ancient weapons are almost as good as war wands,” he declared. “That Travid boy is particularly good with them. He took both of them at over two hundred yards. I didn’t even see the second one. He’s shot the deer, too.”

  “Where?” I asked, concerned. “The goblins, not the deer,” I clarified.

  “Between the Hot Lake and the Kilnusk mountain,” he answered. “We tracked them that far, but as soon as they hit the desolate north, they split up their group. One headed east, the other west. We screened the entire region to make sure they weren’t preparing an ambush, but they seemed to be moving quickly. These two were left behind, probably to guard their exit route. Ithalia’s bird spotted them. Scouts,” he suggested.

  “They split up?” I asked, surprised.

  “That’s what it looked like – Travid is an excellent tracker,” he nodded. “Tandine thinks they’re headed to some ruins in the east and . . . well, she wasn’t certain what the group that went west was headed for. That’s largely unknown territory.”

  “We haven’t sent anyone that way in a generation,” agreed the Lady of Anferny. “Only half of the last expedition came back. It’s dangerous. There are things in the west that defy description. If some of them are headed that way, they will discover that themselves. But I’m satisfied that no more of them stayed in our lands. Viscount Tyndal was most . . . thorough,” she said, meaningfully.

  “I got good at hunting scrugs when we were cleaning up Callierd,” he shrugged. “You get to know where they’re likely to hide out.”

  “There were two score of them, I counted from the air,” Ithalia reported, as she joined our discussion. “Lightly armed, for the most part. They gave the Kilnusk a wide berth. But they seemed to know where they were going.”

  “Which I find disturbing,” I nodded, stroking my beard absently. “I expected them to attack me at once, not disappear into the wild. Or at least search for me.”

  “Perhaps you aren’t as important as you thought, Master,” Tyndal suggested.

  “That would be a relief. But it begs the question of what in Anghysbel is more important than me. And the answer to that is bound to be disturbing.”

  Dinner that evening was lovely, as the folk of Anferny reunited with our expedition. Lord Kanlan walked carefully out to the meadow, using a cane and the support of a servant, and we dined at sunset on roast venison, potatoes, and a few vegetables I was unfamiliar with. Lord Kanlan and his children were delighted with his progress. Apparently, the painkilling poppy gum he had taken for years since his injury had dulled his senses and forced them to take a more active role in the affairs of the domain, and they were happy to have their father lucid, again. I enjoyed the camaraderie, as well as the food. But the entertainment was particularly interesting.

  Lilastien oversaw that. With Forseti’s assistance, she was able to project images on a boulder and issue sounds from her medical scanner. She began just before the porridge course, with a gentle song in Old High Perwyneese.

  “This,” she announced, as she fiddled with her scanner, “is a particularly important song for your people. They chose it as their planetary anthem when they established the colony.”

  “It’s pretty,” Alya commented, as the first strains of music filled the meadow. “What is it called?”

  “‘What A Wonderful World,’” Lilastien supplied, a pleased smile on her lips as a man started singing in a deep, gravelly yet golden toned voice. The images projected on the rock portrayed scenes from both Callidore and what I was coming to recognize as Old Terra. “It’s by a legendary musician named Louis Armstrong. A trumpet player who lived two hundred years before the New Horizon left, but his voice was amazingly sublime, for a human. The recordings he made with Ella Fitzgerald were particularly brilliant,” she sighed. “He was one of the practitioners of a musical discipline known as Jazz, perhaps one of your people’s greatest cultural achievements. At least in my opinion. Here, let me apply the Narasi translation algorithm, and you can at least understand what he’s saying . . .”

  It was, indeed, a beautiful song with beautiful lyrics, even in translation, sung in noble tones but with a wistful quality. It was a simple song, too – one about the pleasures of Nature and the beauty of love and friendship. A fitting song, I decided, to describe both our ancestor’s aspirations on their new world and their affection for their homeworld. I tried to commit the melody to memory, knowing Jannik would want to hear it.

  “A lovely melody,” Fondaras pronounced, over his porridge. “And a fitting verse for our home. It is, indeed, a wonderful world,” he said, nodding toward the gorgeous sunset in the distance.

  After that, Lilastien played a number of other songs from our dis
tant past and even was able to show us some of the dances our ancestors enjoyed.

  “All of this is from fairly early in your history,” she explained, as she paused between performances. “It was a widely held view that human culture diminished, after it made contact with other races. That was one of the reasons that they decided to emigrate – to recapture the native creativity of your species, unburdened by the influences of alien cultures.”

  “And so, they moved to a planet with several of them,” Gareth said, shaking his head.

  “Yet they largely achieved their goal,” Lilastien argued. “Despite the fascination some of your folk held for Alon civilization, they were eager to cling to their ancient customs. The Five Duchies looks a lot more like Ancient Terra than the mega-cities they were fleeing.”

  “I’m just amazed that we’re hearing music that hasn’t been played in centuries,” Nattia admitted. “It is pretty. Most of it. I’m glad to have heard it.”

  “Alas, that is not the only reason I asked Lilastien to prepare this projection,” I sighed. “Forseti, I think it’s time you told our guests about the danger ahead.”

  “Of course, Count Minalan,” the machine said through the medical scanner, formally. “I have prepared a complete demonstration for your guests to consider, based on the data arriving from the remaining remote sensors. Please attend the images,” he directed, as a stylized map of the region appeared on the rock.

  It only took Forseti twenty minutes to reveal the doom that awaited Anghysbel in the next two years. A frightening display of an eruption of super-heated poison gas quickly covered all the inhabited regions of the valley. Forseti calmly reported figures he’d taken from the installation’s instruments, dispassionately foretelling doom in his even voice. While the figures he displayed were mere imagination clothed in light, the results on the folk of Anferny – and everyone else – were appallingly direct. They watched in horror as Forseti predicted their deaths in a particularly nasty fashion.