“They will not catch up, I think.” the mysterious stranger said as he pulled up his bow, examining it for damage.
“I wish I could've left them a little note. They will be so worried for me.”
The man straightened and looked James hard in the eye. It was the exact look James had first got when the man had jumped him on the ridge, “And are you worried for you?”
James gave a little laugh. “No, though I probably should be. I suspect there's little I can do to stop you should you be a bad guy, and if you're not, a bad guy that is, then I have every reason to delight in making my journey with someone who will catch me before I fall off one of these steep sides. And in either case, be you good guy or bad guy, I owe you my life.” James smiled and patted his wounded shoulder.
The edges of the man's mouth turned up a fraction, but that was all.
James gently massaged his legs and gave a parting glance up the mountain where his friends were valiantly striving to find him.
It would be useless, they would never find trace of him. This strange man was a master of his art and always cleverly covered his tracks. Why, he was so good he had managed to follow the prince's own guarded company for weeks without them knowing. His every choice seemed to be carefully calculated and thoughtful, his every move quiet and smooth. He was just like a panther—lithe and strong and smart—a dark jungle leopard if there ever was one.
They had walked in silence for the better part of the afternoon, back over the trails he had trekked over hours and days before. James had been on the verge of asking a number of questions for most of that time. He didn't wish to be a bother and he wanted even less to be ignored or scorned, but he was so curious. But after an hour or two of debating with himself about it, he finally worked up the courage to break the silence, just as they passed through the previous night's campground.
“Soooo…” James drawled as he forcefully kicked a stone over the edge of the ever-impending mountain side, “Do you have a name?” A perfectly innocent question he thought, and a good way to test the ice.
“Drift.” the man ahead answered, and not unkindly.
James made a little victory fist and pulled it down to his side like a kid, “Very nice name too. My is Jam—”
“James Redmond. I know.”
James’ eyes screwed up. He didn’t much care that the strange man seemed so comfortable with his name. Almost like he had known him, or about him, for a long time. It was creepy. He squinted at the back of the person walking in front of him. “Should I know about you?”
“I don't think so.” was the simple reply.
“And how much do you know about me?”
“You aren't from this world. You design to go to the high elves to find out why you were brought here.”
“Who told you that? Was it the man who sent you?”
“Yes.”
James swallowed, “And how did he know about me?”
Silence.
“Well, and what does he want with me?”
More silence.
Perhaps silence was this Drift fellow’s way of saying he didn’t know.
Sometimes James wondered if he should be more fearful of the strange man. He was taking him to someone who may mean James ill-will. And in his own right, he was frightening enough. But James didn’t worry. It was something in those dark eyes. Maybe it had something to do with what Helix had taught him that long while ago, about being able to tell friends from enemies.
In any case, now that he was separated from the company and truly on his way to the high elves, he wondered if perhaps they had heard of him somehow and had sent Drift to fetch him. He rather hoped so. That would be quite lovely. Still, what did they want with him? Did they know something he didn’t about why he might be here? They were the last ones in the world who had been around the last time this had happened, so maybe they had some wisdom to impart. Or maybe they were just curious. Or maybe they had nothing to do with this and this was all just an eerie coincidence. He hoped not, but he supposed only time would tell, especially as it seemed Drift would not.
—————
At the end of the third day, James and Drift finally began to pass by the houses and cottages that lay on the outskirts of the old and historical city of Clangham. Despite several attempts, James had not learned much more about his companion except the extent of his many and varied skills. Drift said there would be more answers once they got to where they were going, but until then, he refrained from discussing his purpose. James wondered, and not for the last time, what on earth these total strangers wanted with him. How did they even know he existed? Had there been enough time for someone to have seen him and carried the news here? And then enough time still to send Drift off to get him? Maybe. Then he began to wonder if perhaps the person Drift was bringing him to might be someone he already knew. But then again, he knew so few people in Gailli. Maybe it was Helix! That was a thought. Except that Helix was supposed to be very far away from here right now.
By evening they were finally in the city of Clangham, and what a mighty and elegant city it was! Old as can be, but wholesome. The elaborate lanterns that hung everywhere cast golden light every which way, making the city seem almost magical. It was quiet too, and very clean James noticed. Very few people were out and about, but those who were seemed regal and elegant and mature.
“The high elves live there,” Drift said quietly, pointing to a large central building, “but first, you must go to Greyside.” and he swung his hand and pointed up the mountain, beyond the lights of Clangham, to a large fortress built into the mountainside, set to guard and watch the city below.
Drift then led James out of the city on a road that made its winding way up the mountain towards the enormous edifice James thought looked a great deal like a gigantic rook. It was a much longer walk than James had anticipated, the fortress being much farther and much larger than it had looked from the city. Inside the fortress was a busy network of guards, men, and elves, all hurrying about their business and giving only a passing look to the stranger being led in. Drift walked James through a maze of doorways and passages, up stairs and down stairs, in rooms, out of rooms, turning this way and that until James was quite sure there was no way he would ever find his way out of there on his own.
Finally Drift stopped before a large door and motioned for James to wait for him as he went to tell whoever it was that James was here.
James watched a torch on the stone wall flicker and dance as he waited. He studied the smooth-hewn walls and floor, the engravings on the hinge of the door; the light coming and going from underneath the door. Why was waiting so hard to do? And why did he feel so little fear in this moment? Surely this was the kind of thing the average human should be apprehensive of. So why was he not? Did age have anything to do with it? Or weariness of mind? Was he losing his mind? Could this all be some dream and he needed only to wake and find there really hadn't been any need to fear? Is fear even an experienceable emotion in dreams? He really must be losing his mind, of course you could experience fear in dreams! Alright then, why wasn't he afraid? Or maybe he was and he'd forgotten what fear felt like. How long had he been here anyway? What was he even doing in this hall outside this door? What was he suppose to do again? This must be a dream, or rather, he must be very close to a dream, which I believe to be much nearer the mark.
Suddenly all the mist that was beginning to obscure his vision cleared. The door opened and he started violently. No, everything was in working order as far as emotions and his brain went, for he felt wide awake now and excited. Drift nodded mutely to him and led him down a short passage and into what seemed to be a very comfortable apartment. Warm firelight filled the room with a soft glow. They did not stop to enjoy it though, but walked straight through it and into an adjoining room whose ceiling disappeared into the above as far as eight stories, if James had to guess. Each level, including this, was lined and covered with hundreds of thousands of books. There were tables and chairs and an
other big flaming hearth and it was all very tastefully furnished.
James took a great breath of the spice-scented air and let it out slowly in awe. He'd never seen so many books in one place in all his life, even at his library back home. And being the great lover of books that he was, this place already felt like home. However, before he had time to fully enjoy the feeling and take in the massive collection, he realized a man was rising out from a large armchair by the fire. He was old beyond age, even to James, who himself was not so young as he used to be. Still, this ancient’s eyes shone forth such wisdom and knowledge and maturity that James did indeed feel a bit like a little child again. His white beard fell down below his waist and the hair of the rest of his head fell down a few inches longer. His skin was pale and covered in tiny wrinkles. He wore some sort of simple loose gown, over which he wore a thick fur-lined cloak of deep redish brown. His deep eyes met James’ with a firmness and confidence James had become accustomed to seeing in Drift. He didn't smile or put out his hand in greeting, but James knew that he was being welcomed nonetheless, as the ancient came three steps forward and bent his head ever so slightly towards his guest.
“Please, sit.”
The voice asking was deep and slow, steady and demanding. James knew it was no more of an option for him than if the man had commanded him. He sat down in another of the tall armchairs and awkwardly tried to find something to do with his sweaty hands.
“So you are James Redmond?” that deep unfathomable voice asked as he scrutinized James squirming awkwardly in his seat. The ancient gracefully took a seat opposite James, but Drift remained standing, “James Redmond, from beyond our universe. Do you know who I am, stranger?”
The normal response to such a venerable, wizened old sage would probably be to answer in reverence and meekness, but James was by no means normal, and while he had initially been in awe of the man, the longer he sat here, the less nervous he became. And it irked him a bit that the old man would ask such a question, probably knowing full well that James didn’t know who he was. Seemed like a condescending power move.
“No, I don't know. But I'd like to know how you and Drift here know about me.” the trembling in his hands lessened a bit and he settled into his seat, feeling brave again.
Both were still and silent. James wondered if he’d committed some heinous misdemeanor by being so blunt. Drift gazed straight ahead without any betrayal of emotion. The old man stared fixedly into James’ face as if trying to read into his mind and motives. James felt this awkward silence much more keenly than any he'd yet experienced while traveling.
“You may go, Drift.” the wise sage declared after many silent minutes, “I will speak with James alone.”
Drift left without word or protest. The old man watched the fire silently until he heard the distant sound of the door close, then he rose and went to one of the nearby tables. He poured out a goblet of some beverage and brought it back to James along with a book he picked from among the many that lay on the table.
James refused the goblet as politely as he could when it was offered to him. He really did try to be polite about it, but it is hard to be polite when one is suspicious.
“Um, I'm sorry, no thank you. It’s just that…well…no harm intended, but it may be poisoned or cursed, and so you can just set that over there.” and he pointed to a side table.
A twinkle lit the face of the ancient, though his face remained as stern and set as the moment James had clapped eyes on him, “Very well, Master Redmond.” and he tipped the glass up to his own mouth and drained it to the dregs, after which he set it in the suggested spot, “You are an unusual man, are you not, Master Redmond? Tell me, do not people find you a bit odd?”
James swallowed so that his voice might come out without any mishap, “They seem to yes, sir. I'm not entirely sure why. I was normal enough back…back…there.” and he vaguely pointed up. But if James was honest, even back in Nebraska people seemed to think him a bit strange. Most had chalked it up to early onset senile dementia.
“Do you know that I do not think you are odd? You are special, not odd. Do you know yet why you are here, Master James?”
James was not trembling at all now. This guy was not as mysterious or learned as he'd thought at first. Not only was he woefully cliche, but he kept asking questions he must know James couldn’t answer.
“No, I don’t. That's why I'm here.” and he would've tacked ‘dummy’ to the end of that if his conscience hadn't pricked him first.
Somehow it looked as if the man sitting across from him had seen his omission anyway, for his eyes narrowed and he said rather more darkly, “I am not some prince whom you can flaunt and disrespect at your own leisure. You are unique indeed, but that does not give you license to be a plod. I am a very powerful man and it would become you to remember that.”
“Who are you?” James asked suspiciously, a bit in the dark as to what ‘a plod’ was.
“Aldarin, wizard of the eleventh age, son of Thaldar the Great, the greatest magician of the seventh age or any age that preceded it.”
James’ eyes widened. He'd heard of Thaldar before. He had been mentioned in the Cliff book. He was the most powerful and renowned wizard to walk the earth. Well, his earth. Was this his son? And was he just as wise and widely revered?
“Of course,” and the wizard stood to put another log on the fire, “I am not his real son. Thaldar adopted me, to train me to follow in his footsteps. But I never carried the renown he did, but that is by choice.”
James wondered why, if he had the power and prestige, the wizard would choose to stay in his father’s shadow. He also wondered why he would keep a normal fire when he could probably create a never-ending one. He looked slowly around the room wondering how many secrets were built into the room itself. Hidden darts? Self-locking doors? Invisible objects? It sent chills up his spine.
“Does this clear up any of your questions?” Aldarin asked as he sat down again, book still in hand, and once again set an unblinking stare on James.
“Yes, maybe some. But it doesn't clear up to me why you would send for me, with a professional tracker no less. What do I have that you want?” James was twisting his head trying to read the title of the book.
“Quite the reverse, Master Redmond. I sent for you so that I can be of service to you. While I can’t see exactly what your purpose is, I do know it is great. This world is on the edge of a dark storm. Already it has begun, in whispers and shadows, distant and deep rolling thunder. What your part in it all is I cannot say, but the Indestructible makes no mistakes and wastes nothing. If you would be summoned here, you can be sure you have a very specific and unique purpose.”
17
How Terragone’s Adventure Abruptly Ended
Sir Ingot leapt down from a ledge in the pass directly in front of four goblins who were trailing the company. He yelled at them and brandished his sword threateningly. This, with the element of surprise, caused the ugly stragglers to flee screaming back down the way they'd come.
The company had been battling goblin hordes since the day they had disrupted a nest while searching for James. Now goblins are rather stupid and easy to frighten or subdued and they only pose a real threat when they gather in great mobs. They weren't at the mob size yet, but it was getting close. The creatures also managed much better in the snowy terrain of the mountains than any of the company at large. The men from the warm, temperate Gaillian seaside didn't have a whole lot of experience with snow and this could have put them at a serious disadvantage if they hadn't been such very good warriors. Goblins don't have weapons, aside from the occasional stone mallet or crude club. Their attack tactic was much more up close and personal, strangling and biting. But the company wouldn’t let them close enough to use those methods. At least they were trying.
Sir Ingot nodded grimly and ran to catch up with the others who had continued on up the pass. He nodded to Terragone, who nodded curtly in response. Terragone turned his gaze up to the dark clouds b
owing down their hoary heads, threatening to dump another several inches of snow on the mountain tops.
His eyes were hard and serious. Much more of this cursed snow and they'd have to stop for awhile. They couldn't fight the growing goblin hordes and the furious blizzards of ice and snow that blinded and chilled them beyond what they had expected. In addition to these less than favorable conditions, morale had plummeted since James’ disappearance. True, fighting the goblins helped, but there was still a shadow over each mind about what had happened to James.
Terragone had been over every detail and circumstance and possibility in the days following his disappearance, but there was so much they couldn't ever know. Thus, in respect for James and for closure for his men, he decided to assume James had fallen from the cliff's edge, or had been taken by goblins.
You may be wondering what other explanation Terragone might have had in his state of ignorance, but deep down, Terragone wondered if James’ strange behavior might somehow be connected to whatever had happened to him on the ridge. Still, there wasn't any time or use for trying to discern what James might've been up to. He wasn’t the most easy individual to deduce in the best of circumstances. You see, Terragone remembered, even if the others had forgotten, that James had ultimately said he didn't intend to stay with the company definitely. He had primarily wanted a safe way of getting to where he was going, the high elves who would tell him about that Cliff person. When Terragone first permitted James to accompany them, he had fully expected James to leave sometime while near or in these mountains. And Terragone had originally planned to let him go without a fuss whenever the time came. But after what happened on the ridge, he had changed his mind in that respect. No, after that and the suspicious way James had been in the days following, there was no way Terragone was going to let him wander off for his own fell purposes.
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