by William Cali
Pent was startled by a jostling at his shoulder, pulling him from his own thoughts.
“Here, you must be hungry.” Hanar handed him a piece of dried meat. Pent eagerly grabbed it and ripped a bite out with his teeth. The meat was dry and rough, but also delicious. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.
“Man, I love jerky, haven’t had this in so long.”
“Jerky?”
“It’s a kind of… never mind. It’s gotta be tough to make this.”
Hanar laughed. “I’m the best around at gathering the meat. But aside from roasting it on a stick, I’m not so talented at making it acceptable for the tongue. This is the skill of a great cook in Somerville.” He paused for a moment, and then laughed again. “I think she would draw offense by me calling her a cook! She has as many talents as there are stars in the sky. I believe you’ll enjoy meeting her.”
Pent stuffed the jerky in his mouth. Hanar grinned and began handing him another piece.
“Don’t let me eat you out of house and home, man,” Pent said, reluctant to take a second piece.
“As long as there are beasts that live and breathe in these woods, there will be food to eat. There is no need to be so reserved.” He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Pent. “A curiosity has been pawing at me. If indeed you come from some distant world, I wonder. Does everyone in your land look like you?”
Pent raised an eyebrow at the question. “Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You are not just tall, but large. I first thought you were a bear gifted with speech. And I have not traveled as far as I would like, but I have never seen a man with darkened skin. I’ve heard mention of a group to the far west with skin scorched by the sun, but I believed those were just stories.”
“There’s no black people here?”
Hanar scratched at his beard.
“Black? But your skin is not one with the night. I would hesitate to call it black, myself. But to your question, all people I have met are of a similar shade to my own.” He frowned, staring at the flames. “Lemen, I think, is a touch darker, and Cenk a touch paler. I had never stopped to think on it before.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you either. I’m only half black, by the way. My dad was the same skin color as you.”
Hanar nodded, satisfied that his question was answered. “Ah. The world is full of wonders.” Hanar went quiet for a moment and then cleared his throat. “And to that end, I have not been completely honest with you.”
Pent leaned forward. A tuft of smoke from the campfire belted at his eyes. He winced and wiped pained tears away while trying to pay attention.
“I earlier claimed to have no knowledge of the mystical arts. But that is not entirely true.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a small black cylinder. It was shaped like a battery, like one of the huge C batteries you might put into an electric keyboard. “I am no sorcerer, but I am the acquaintance of one.”
“Well everything I’ve seen so far makes no sense anyway, I’m game,” Pent shrugged.
“You are a game?”
Pent groaned, “No, no. I’m not a… Ugh, never mind. This is just gonna keep happening, isn’t it?” He closed his eyes in frustration. “Tell me about this ‘sorcerer.’”
“Ah. He is a relic of a long-forgotten era. I met him out in these woods one day. He helped me, saved me in a way.” He closed his hand around the cylinder. “I did come out here in search of food. That was true. But when I saw you fall from the sky, I was certain that he was involved somehow.”
“So, where is he?”
Hanar raised the cylinder over the fire. In the light, it was clear that it was no battery. It was too large and had blue markings on it in a language Pent didn’t recognize.
“He lives in secret, not too far from here, and you need this stone to call out to him. Otherwise, it is like he is not there at all.” He put the stone back into his pack. “I had planned on visiting him alone, but perhaps it would be better if you met him yourself.”
“I don’t know anything about sorcerers or magic. But if he’s half the man you’re hyping him up to be, I’ll bet he knows how I got here.”
“If anyone in this entire world does, it would be him. He is without peer in wisdom and magical prowess. His powers are vast,” Hanar said, his tone reverent.
“What’s this guy’s name?”
Hanar smiled, eyes shining as he wistfully watched the flames. “Gordenthorpe.”
“Gordenthorpe? Like, did his mother actually name him Gordenthorpe? That’s a mouthful.”
“He is a great, gentle man. You will find answers in his guidance.” Hanar’s tone was definitive. To him, there was no question of this wizard’s clout.
“Tomorrow it is then.”
“Yes, tomorrow! It has been so long since I’ve seen him last.” Hanar trailed off, stuck in his own whimsical thoughts.
Pent sat down and leaned back. The ground was cold, the air was cold, and his thoughts were cold. The sky had grown dark. Less than a day ago, he was sitting with Greg, talking about their Podunk town, about how nothing ever happened there. Well, this is definitely something. The moon was out. It was as large and overbearing as it had been when he had last seen it. He stared at the stars in the sky. There were so many of them, and they were so bright. He could only make out a few dozen at home, but here there were hundreds.
“This is beautiful,” he said, marveling in the night’s sky. He was reminded of Christmas when he was seven years old. That was one of the last memories he had of his father living in their house.
The thought of his father soured the moment, and he turned over in the dirt. I can’t think about that deadbeat now. He brushed the image of his father aside, but the Christmas tree, it was like something out of a fable. He stared at it until nearly midnight that Christmas Eve. All the lights in the house were out, but the all-white lights draped over the tree shone bright enough to help him walk through the room.
Pent closed his eyes, embracing the darkness of the night. Talk about something out of a fable. Falling from the sky, some weird guy in the woods talking about wizards? Though sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep here on the cold ground in the woods, Pent drifted off to sleep, picturing the Christmas tree of his childhood guiding him through the dark, his last waking thought the hope that something, or someone, would guide him home.
Chapter Six
Pent had a hard time getting up in the morning. No blanket, no pillow, no cushion for his back. He’d had more comfortable nights sleeping in his car. Something shuffled in the brush beyond the spring. Hanar was already wide awake, getting ready for the day ahead.
Pent stared at Hanar as he worked. It looks like I’m still here. Figured I would just wake up in my bed, done with all this nonsense. No such luck. He shook his head, calling out to Hanar. “Morning.”
Hanar smiled. “You seemed so troubled last night, but I imagine a good night’s rest has done right by you.” He chuckled to himself while messing with his pack. “Either my footwork is lighter than I thought, or you are the soundest sleeper I’ve ever met.”
“Hope I didn’t miss anything important.” Pent rose to his feet, stretching his arms out. It was much better on his feet. His arm and neck joints made satisfying cracks as he flexed. He was ready for another day of work. Except I won’t make it to the Market Palace today, will I? That makes this, what? A forced vacation?
“No, no. I joined you in sleep shortly after. You’re quite the long and heavy sleeper as well.” He regarded Pent, turning his attention away from his pack. “There are many oddities about you, Pent.”
Pent laughed. “It’s been a day. Give it some time, I think you’ll get used to me.” If I even stick around that long.
Hanar stroked his beard as he spoke, “I suspect you are right.” He reached into his pack and pulled out the stone cylinder he had shown Pent the day before, palming it. “I mean to ask you something, Pent. Are you certain that you wish to meet my good fr
iend of these woods?”
“The wizard.” Pent held back the rest of his thoughts, the wizard with the weird, long name.
“Yes, Gordenthorpe. He is also an oddity.” Hanar spoke with a sense of wonder and awe. He seemed at a loss to find a way to describe the wizard.
“This dude is supposed to be some great keeper of knowledge, right? Sounds like he’s my ticket out of here. If there’s a chance I can get some answers out of him, I’m not about to walk away.” Plus, I’ve always wanted to see a real-life Merlin.
Hanar nodded, his eyebrows furrowed, his face sharp with determination. “All right, then stand back.” Pent backed up several yards, almost touching the trees at the edge of the clearing.
Hanar raised the stone towards the trees behind the flowing stream. With his body stiff and the stone pointed into the woods, he shouted, “GORDENTHORPE! REVEAL YOURSELF!” A blue beam of light shot out of the stone with a laser-like intensity to a point within the trees behind the stream, and, as Pent focused on that point, an image began to materialize. An imaginary fog was lifted, and, through the haze, a structure emerged.
A large hut made of straw and clay faded into existence. Pent rubbed his eyes. The hut seemed so real, where moments ago there was nothing occupying that space. He couldn’t even see the stream behind the hut anymore. The hut was standing on logs of wood, elevated above the surface of the ground ten feet in the air. A ramp made of sticks and twigs led visitors to a short doorway. The doorway was tiny. I’ll have to crawl to fit through that little door.
Hanar let out a sigh of relief and placed the stone in his pack.
“That’s some magic stone you’ve got there,” Pent said as he walked up to his new companion and slapped him on the shoulder.
“The stone only reveals the structure. Gordenthorpe’s home is normally invisible to the naked eye.” He waved over at the image of the hut. “The stone works not unlike a key would work on a door. Without the right key, you can’t enter someone’s home.”
“You mean to tell me we were sleeping in the dirt a few feet away from an invisible house?” Pent said. He stared at the hut in disbelief. “You know, if you came to my house and just opened up the door, it wouldn’t matter if I gave you the key or not. I wouldn’t want you just barging in.” Pent pointed at the hut. “Think you should knock first?”
“The barrier opening like this is signal enough. He already knows I am here, and that I have brought company.”
“I’ll tell you what, man. You can go ahead and lead the way.”
* * *
Pent followed closely behind Hanar, butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was the fear or excitement that was causing them. Distracted, he bumped into Hanar, who had stopped abruptly at the base of the ramp.
“There’s just one thing I need to say of Gordenthorpe before we go in there. He is a brilliant man, the wisest I’ve ever known. But he can be a bit unfocused at times. If you mean to gather information from him, you might need to interrupt his stories.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find his words. “You’ll see.” Hanar moved ahead, climbing up the ramp, and was through the door in an instant.
Pent stepped onto the ramp and made his way to the doorway. He glimpsed down at the path of twigs. How in the world is this supporting my 250-pound ass? He didn’t know much about construction, but this ramp made no sense. The twigs barely connected to each other, and they had no foundational support to the ground. They seemed to float in the air, like Aladdin’s magic carpet. Magic.
When he reached the top of the ramp and pushed the door open, he found it difficult to see inside, like his vision was obscured. Something about the interior was hard to grasp; a veil that he could barely comprehend prevented those on the outside from seeing in. Is there an actual haze in the air, or is this just in my mind? It doesn’t look like smoke. He yelled for Hanar but received no response. He ducked down, feeling silly and thinking of Alice in Wonderland as he crossed through the doorway.
All at once he had entered another world. The walls were covered with metallic trinkets made of tin, gold, and silver. Each of the objects seemed to emit beacons of light so bright that Pent had to raise a hand to his brow to shield his eyes. He saw swords and knives, goblets, a horseshoe, some kind of string instrument which was similar to a harp, another like a violin, gauntlets, and necklaces, strung all about the sides of the room in random patterns.
Musical jingling came from all around, the sound of metal brushing up against metal. The entire hut had an odor of tea. Pent could almost taste it in his nostrils; it lingered at the tip of his tongue. He stepped forward and brushed up against a table, slightly above his ankle in height, made of a delicate wood. He felt that he was going to break anything he touched as if he were in a house of dwarven miniatures.
Hanar waved his hand in front of Pent’s face, grabbing his attention away from the distractions in the hut. “Are you all right?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. This place looks like a pawn shop from the Middle Ages. It’s so bright in here, I can barely see.”
Hanar opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by a full-bodied, deep voice that caught Pent by surprise.
“I am sorry to inconvenience you, my strange guest!”
A small, pudgy man with round cheeks and a belly to match danced into view. Pent wondered how large the hut actually was. From the outside, it seemed that the room he was in made up the entire body of the hut. Now he was not so sure.
The elderly man had a full beard of milky white bristles, and no hair to match on his scalp. Under his bushy brows, his gaze was locked in a tight squint. Despite his stout stature, the little man moved with fluid grace. He chortled as he stood before Pent, his entire body jigging.
“And what a strange guest you appear to be. A strange, unwelcomed guest.”
Hanar approached, but the presumed wizard waved him away. “That’s all right Hanar, I am not upset.” His body rolled with every movement. Pent imagined him with a little Santa cap, giving out presents to kids at the mall.
“Sorry for stepping in without asking you first… I can leave if you want.”
“It’s quite all right, young man. Bah, my eyes are not the same as they used to be. Pardon me for a moment…” He raised his left arm and twirled it in a circle. A pair of glasses lifted themselves off the wall, floated to him, and placed themselves over the bridge of his nose. Had he pulled them off the wall with his mind? With magic?
“That is much better, much better.” The wizard blinked twice, his eyes adjusting to his optimized vision. “Oh my, you are not quite what I imagined. I’ve never quite seen someone like you before.”
“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.” Pent hesitated before putting his hand forward. “My name is Pent. Nice to meet you.”
The old wizard regarded the exposed palm for a moment and then raised his own tiny hand to meet Pent’s. Pent was afraid he would snap the man’s bones as he gave him two firm shakes.
“This is a very formal greeting, not common for the folk of this land. Appropriate for one from Vinalhaven, but I’ve never seen a northerner who looks quite like you, very curious.” He continued to hold Pent’s hand, examining his features like a doctor. He released Pent’s hand without a hint of embarrassment. “Allow me to clear the air. My name is Gordenthorpe.” His voice was gentle and comforting; talking to him put Pent’s nerves at ease. “And welcome to my home.”
Chapter Seven
Pent was flooded with a thousand questions, his mind racing in several different directions at once. He started with the first thing he could think to say.
“Is this real?” He gestured to the hut around them all, all of the intricate trinkets on the wall. “All of this, is this really magic?” He glanced up at a scarlet cloak draped on the wall, and the brilliant color drew him in.
Gordenthorpe smiled, and his grin was wide, visible past his huge beard, and showed no teeth. He nodded in answer.
“Of course it is real
!” Pent reluctantly drew his attention away from the cloak and back to the old man. “Can you not see it with your own eyes? But I suppose one’s eyes can play their own tricks. I remember a time many, many years ago. Ah, where is it…” He had moved towards the wall and was scouring the contents for something. He stopped on a mesh of fabric that reminded Pent of those blindfolds they give out on long flights. “Ah, yes, the Mask of Dhole. Through the lenses of this wonderful token you can see many creatures that render themselves invisible to the naked eye! Horrible for seeing things that are perfectly visible, though. The last time I used this, I was knee dee—”
Hanar cleared his throat. “So, Pent. It is as I told you before. Gordenthorpe is a practiced follower of the mystical arts. He has a deep well of knowledge, perhaps he would even know h—”
“Yes, yes! What Hanar has said to you is true. I am a sorcerer,” Gordenthorpe said. He hadn’t moved away from the mask, but already he was scanning elsewhere on the wall. “What else could I be? Where else could you find wonders such as these? Only in the home of a disciple of the great Karpas!”
Pent glanced at Hanar, who shrugged and reclined into a wicker chair.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Few in this area have.” The short sorcerer began to walk slowly around the room, contemplating devices on the walls, on the tables, small wonders whose function was unknown to Pent. “Alas, it’s been a long time, years upon years since I’ve wandered the world. Since I last walked among the people of this world, magic has faded. The true vanguards of this world are long since gone.” He chuckled to himself. “Gone are the men and women who struck fear in Forterzo’s black heart. Those who matched wits and bested the Deceiver, Pyrious. I wasn’t there for those battles sadly.” He shifted with a hop and smiled. “But what’s done is done, and what’s gone is gone. And magic nearly gone along with them.”
“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever seen an invisible house before. If magic is gone, you seem to be doing a pretty good job of carrying that torch,” Pent said.