Echoes of the Fourth Magic

by R. A. Salvatore

  “Come,” he said, “suren ’tis a merry day, and Avalon awaits.”

  And when the men emerged from Bellerian’s house, they saw that Andovar was not exaggerating: it was indeed a beautiful day, comfortably cool and with a winsome spring breeze carrying the fragrances of budding life. Puffy white balls of clouds floated across the rich blue sky, and the sun beamed as if rejoicing that the last traces of winter had at last been left behind.

  “Get yerself a morning meal,” Andovar said. “We’ve the time. Belexus is gone scouting the road ahead and sha’no’ return for a while, and I huv a notch in me sword needin’ fixing.”

  Del drew his own sword. “Do you really think we’ll need them?”

  “No’ for guessing,” Andovar replied. “Evil ones do’no’ stalk the grounds o’ Avalon, but sunpeak shall pass above us afore we see her blessed boughs. The road is e’er filled with dangers in the wild northland.” Del’s expression was caught somewhere between excitement and trepidation. “do’no’ worry, me friends,” Andovar added to console them all, “for this day ye ride beside the mightiest warrior o’ this age.”

  “Such humility,” Mitchell grumbled, his sarcasm undiminished by a good night’s sleep.

  “I speak not o’ meself,” Andovar retorted coldly. A proud man, proven in battle, he didn’t take lightly being insulted by an outlander. He stared unblinking at the captain and continued in a low, grim voice, “Me blade is worthy, alike all o’ the rangers, but Belexus is the one making the deeds for the singers o’ songs.”

  Mitchell ignored the words and the glare, acting as if Andovar didn’t even exist.

  “Killin’ the whip-dragon to save yer lives marks Belexus at fifteen,” Andovar told Billy and Del. “And he is no’ but a young man. The great Bellerian killed but twelve in his fightin’ days, and the beasts were more about back then. And Belexus once showed a true dragon to the other world. Not a big one, but even a small dragon is a foe beyond the strength of mortal men.

  “But not beyond Belexus,” Andovar explained, his smile one of admiration untainted by envy. “By what me own eyes huv seen, even the largest o’ the dragonkind’d be hard put to it by the ringing sword of Belexus Backavar, son o’ Bellerian and prince to the Rangers o’ Avalon.”

  “Backavar?” Del asked.

  “ ‘Iron-arm’ in yer tongue,” Andovar explained. “ ’Tis a name he hus earned since his first fighting days. I am no wrong in saying, me eyes as witness, that he is a mightier warrior than Arien Silverleaf himself!”

  Their looks told Andovar that they did not recognize the name.

  “Arien Silverleaf,” the ranger repeated reverently. “Ye’ll be meeting him soon enough, for he is the Eldar of Illuma and very great and wise. But no more o’ yer questions. Things are needing doing and time is not enough!”

  Belexus soon returned, and once again, unexpectedly, the four outlanders were left speechless. They stood in a grassy meadow, sheltered by a ring of huge boulders that seemed purposely placed to maintain secrecy. Andovar and another ranger worked nearby, selecting horses for the journey, and the men were indeed relieved that they would not be walking this time. Suddenly the horses began whinnying and stomping their hooves.

  Del jumped back from the horse he was brushing.

  “Lord Calamus draws near,” Andovar answered to his questioning look.

  “Who?”

  The ranger pointed toward the eastern sky. “Calamus,” he repeated solemnly, “winged Lord of Horses.” The men turned to scan the sky, shielding their eyes from the early morning glare. As soon as the sight registered, they stood with their mouths agape, for coming in low, under the fiery ball of the rising sun, was the unmistakable and unbelievable silhouette of a winged horse bearing a rider.

  “Pegasus,” Reinheiser muttered.

  “It can’t be,” Mitchell gasped. He stood perplexed. Everything that had come before, the talons, the Colonnae, the Emerald Room, even the whip-dragon, Mitchell could rationalize away as a deception or some form of technology. But now this. Pegasus! There was no explanation. The beast approaching was not mechanical or a trick of makeup. His breathing coming hard, he had to concentrate to keep his balance, forced now to accept that this whole adventure wasn’t merely a game. Even amidst the craziness and the death, Mitchell had held on to the hope that it was all some elaborate scheme.

  Reality proved persistent, though. The building evidence had pushed Mitchell’s belief further and further back in his mind, and now this flying horse shoved it out completely, taking with it all his hopes of returning to a more controlled, more organized, and more familiar environment.

  Seconds later the magnificent steed landed in the little knoll and Belexus hopped off its back. It was pure white, with a thick silvery mane that shimmered in the sunlight and coal-black saucer eyes sparkling with pride and spirit, and hinting at an intelligence that transcended its equine frame.

  “Where did you get him?” Del asked, actually trembling with excitement.

  “Belexus won him,” Andovar answered. “Spoil of the dragon’s lair.”

  “Won him?” Belexus echoed skeptically. “No, Calamus canno’ be won.” He patted the mighty steed’s muscular neck and met the saucer eyes with his own, as if directing his words to the horse. “Calamus canno’ be won,” he repeated, “for he canno’ be owned. He is his own master, and woe to any who might try a rope on him!” The horse lord snorted its accord and stamped its foreleg hard.

  Belexus spun back to the men, a boyish smile of exuberance stretched from ear to ear. “But now’s for going,” he proclaimed. “A clear road and a climbing sun. To Illuma!”

  Del marveled at the ranger’s enthusiasm and envied that smile, for it shone untainted, pure joy unleashed for no reason other than the glory of the world about, an exuberance spawned by the simple thrill of existence. Del wondered if he would ever smile like that.

  “Illuma!” Andovar echoed with the same innocent grin, and thus began the final leg of the eastern trek.

  They moved southeast at first, gaining even more distance from the great cliff, as further “guarding from watching eyes lurking in the northern mountains,” Belexus explained.

  Soon they swung around directly eastward. The ground sloped up slightly as they climbed toward the Crystal Mountains, the trail rocky and bare except for an occasional sprig or bush, but off to the south, the ground fell away more steeply, and in the distance lay a wide expanse of grassy fields. Hillocks rolled relentlessly southward like green ocean swells on and on as far as the men could see, and winding through them, a silver-blue snake, the great River Ne’er Ending.

  Presently the trail leveled and the clip-clop of hooves on stone changed to softer thudding as the path transformed from stone to softer earth. Many large and jagged rocks still showed through all about them, but every stride took them deeper into more hospitable terrain. Grasses and scattered trees grew more general, and then, almost without warning, they came upon the edge of the mighty forest. Great oaks, tall and proud, stood thickly packed before them, running in a long line all the way down to meet the green plain. Belexus quickened their pace at the sight, and shortly after midday the travelers dismounted and ate their lunch in the shadow of Avalon.

  Del directed most of his conversation toward Belexus, reiterating his sincere thanks for the rescue in the dangerous swamp.

  A humble man, Belexus said little and seemed uncomfortable with the subject.

  “Killing that monster was a feat of great strength,” Del mentioned.

  Across the way, Mitchell chomped hard on his biscuit.

  “A whip-dragon is indeed a mighty foe,” the ranger agreed. “But more a test o’ courage than strength, for ye must charge the beast and no waiting. If ye let it use the whips, then tears to yer kin. But if ye get too close for the snap, the beast is for beating.”

  “Of course, it’s a whole lot easier if the damned thing is already busy with five other people,” the captain remarked dryly.

  “In
troth,” Belexus replied with a condescending grin,

  “ ’Tis easier when the beast is at peace, and not ready for a fight.”

  Knowing that Mitchell was looking for trouble and would push this issue, Del shouted, “Time to go!” and jumped to his feet.

  “Ayuh,” Belexus agreed, still smiling down at the captain. “Past the time, by me thinking.”

  As they made ready to leave, Belexus pulled Del aside. “Me friend,” he said, “If e’er ye’re faced with battle, keep to me words: The greatest advantage of a true warrior is neither strength nor quickness, but courage. Courage keeps yer head clear so ye might remember yer strengths and pull the mask off yer opponent’s weaknesses.”

  “That’s advice I’ll hold on to,” Del said as he mounted his horse. And remember it he did, much to his benefit in the days to come.

  They set a leisurely pace in Avalon—no need or want to rush in this truly glorious wood. The trees stood tall and straight and the leafy ceiling layered thick, but unlike Blackemara, the forest of Avalon was not a gloomy place. It was full of clear flat paths to follow, with sunlight streaming in everywhere, flowing around leafy branches and warming the earth, and speckling the ground along the trail with the most interesting shadows. And, oh, the colors! Wildflowers of white, red, violet, gold, and every hue imaginable clustered at every turn, filling the air with their rich scents.

  And the grass showed the deepest, truest green, primeval in its purity, as if it was the original conception of the color. All the greens of Del’s world seemed but cheap imitations of it.

  This was a place for poets and lovers, an unblemished dreamscape of colors and aromas that stirred the senses to new levels of awareness. And it was a clean place; no ghouls lurked behind the trees of Avalon. Being here, Del felt that he better understood the rangers. Nurtured on the fruits of this perfection, a man could only grow strong and true. He was overwhelmed by the forest. Billy, he noted, was overwhelmed, too, but it seemed that Reinheiser had other things on his mind and hardly noticed their surroundings, and Mitchell held on stubbornly to his anger and his envy.

  Wildlife abounded. Rabbits, squirrels, even an occasional deer or wild pig turned a curious eye as the party passed, and countless birds squawked and chattered in the branches like gossiping old ladies, spreading the word that strangers were about in the wood. One animal in particular caught Del’s eye, a large squirrel hopping along the branches, apparently following the party. Del had the strange feeling that this was the same squirrel he had seen in Blackemara, and he was more than a little curious about it.

  He trotted his horse up beside Belexus. “That squirrel is following us.”

  Mitchell closed in on the pair, tilting his ear in their direction.

  “Hush about it,” Belexus whispered. “Pay it no heed.”

  “But I saw that same squirrel in the swamp,” Del continued, copying the ranger’s respectful whisper.

  “And I’ve seen too much of it!” Mitchell announced loudly.

  Del gave a groan, for he had seen this before from the captain, and certainly understood the man’s motivations. Recognizing the ranger’s reverence for Avalon and her inhabitants, the captain now saw an opportunity to vent his seething frustration and truly outrage both Belexus and Andovar.

  Mitchell slid from his horse and picked up a stone. “Where are you?” he yelled to the trees. As if in answer, the squirrel hopped to an open branch and cocked its head curiously.

  Mitchell smiled wickedly. “Your ass is mine,” he growled, and raised his arm to throw.

  “No!” Del screamed, every instinct within him revolted by such an act. He leaped from his mount and crashed in just as Mitchell brought his arm forward, and the stone skipped harmlessly wide of its mark. The infuriated captain regained his balance quickly, intent on pummeling Del, but Belexus and Andovar were already between them.

  “By the Colonnae!” Belexus roared. “In troth ye be a fool to huv done such a thing! Avalon opens her arms wide to friends—” He stopped as Mitchell met his shock with a stare of open challenge—and how the ranger wanted to accept that challenge! Realizing he was bound otherwise, Belexus settled for a warning that came out unmistakably as a threat. “She welcomes friends, Mitchell, but keep me words, she destroys enemies!”

  Together they turned to the squirrel. It sat motionless on the branch for a moment, taking in the scene, before it skipped away, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

  “At least the smelly rat’s gone.” Mitchell laughed.

  “Swallow yer words!” Andovar shouted, his ire dashing all reason. Quicker than the ancient ones could follow, the ranger’s sword was out of its scabbard and the tip in at Mitchell’s throat. “Or defend yer crooked mouth with yer life!”

  “Hold, Andovar,” Belexus ordered calmly. “By the Prophetics and our quest, ye huv no’ the right to do this.” Andovar paused a moment, weighing the consequences. He sheathed his sword grudgingly without releasing the captain from his penetrating glare.

  “Ye huv chased away one animal,” Belexus said. “But the eyes o’ the wood are not few and sure to be watching even more closely now.”

  Mitchell tried vainly to hide his terror at how easily Andovar could have killed him. He ignored the ominous stare of Belexus and turned to Del, a less formidable foe.

  “I’ll remember this, DelGiudice,” he growled threateningly.

  “Oh, so will I,” Del retorted in the same tone. “I’ll remember all of it.”

  Mitchell gave an angry snort, obviously surprised that Del would again stand up to him so blatantly, and went back to his horse. But the mare would not let him near, and the other mounts shied away from him as well.

  “Beasts of Avalon,” Andovar explained with a chuckle of deep satisfaction. “Ye’ll be walking.”

  Mitchell did just that. He walked with his head held high in proud defiance of the wood, and he did not speak another word that day.

  They all went on in silence throughout the afternoon, and soon enough the sheer beauty and wholesomeness of the wood had Del feeling happy again.

  Such was the power of Avalon to heighten the awareness of friendly observers that they might recognize a harmony here that transcended the normal and took on almost magical proportions. The forest possessed a twofold beauty, both simple and profound: simple in the dances of the animals on the ground and in the trees above, in the constant flow of songs from countless birds, in the unified craning of a group of wildflowers seeking out the patches of sunlight that sifted in through the branches of towering oaks. And yet it was the deeper sense of order, the profound beauty of Avalon, that overwhelmed Del. The realization that every single being that lived and grew here belonged to a system that was delicate yet ever enduring, and so complete and balanced that it reflected the orderly perfection of the universal scheme.

  He felt all of that, profoundly, and wanted desperately to be a part of it.

  They made camp in a small glen as the sunset pinkened the sky behind them. The tops of several of the closer mountains remained visible to them, and once again the group was treated to the sparkling spectacle of the micariver fires on the Crystal Mountains.

  The stars came bright and clear when the cold dark closed in, but soon dimmed as the full moon peeked his silvery face through the valleys between the mountains in the east. The air grew chill, but not uncomfortably, for a gentle wind came up from the south.

  Something about this budding evening flickered recognition in Del’s heightened senses. “Am I wrong,” he asked with a puzzled look, “or is this the same night that we saw in Bellerian’s room?”

  “It does look the same,” Reinheiser agreed, and he, too, wore a puzzled expression.

  “It feels the same,” Del said.

  “Might that it be,” Andovar said. “ ’Tis in the power of the magic o’ the Emerald Room to huv foreseen this night.”

  “Suren’s to be beautiful, then,” Belexus said. “But we canno’ keep our eyes open to it, for the road i
s yet long before ye and moren so if ye’re weary. Now is the time to sleep.”

  Lulled by the rustling leaves and the wind’s mournful song, they complied almost immediately, except for Andovar, keeping watch, and Del. Though Del was certainly comfortable in this enchanted wood, sleep would not come to him. As he settled down for the night, the bone case that Bellerian had given him caught his attention and pulled incessantly at his curiosity. He realized that he should be stronger than the temptation, but with all the wonders going on about him, he couldn’t resist.

  Finally he gave up trying to sleep and walked over to where Andovar sat patiently. Del couldn’t help but chuckle as he approached, for as he suspected, the ranger’s eyes weren’t turned outward against any threat from the wood, they were fixed squarely on Captain Mitchell.

  “I’m not tired,” Del explained when he got to the small fire. “I’ll take the watch if you’d like.”

  “Nay, the watch is mine,” Andovar replied. “The soft nights of Avalon are me deepest love and I do’no’ weary from riding. But I would welcome your company.” He motioned a friendly invitation for Del to sit.

  “I’d like that, too,” Del said, returning the ranger’s warm look. “But first, if it’s all right, I’d like to take a walk. The woods don’t scare me; they seem to call to me. And the moon is bright.”

  “Ye huv the makings of a good ranger.” Andovar laughed, studying Del’s face. “Me friend, there be a sparkle in yer eye as I huv seen before. So ye’ve seen it, huv ye? The magic o’ the wood.”

  Andovar’s ability to see right through him embarrassed Del, and he blushed deeply.

  “Ayuh,” the ranger continued, “she’s shown ye the beauty and health of the place—the strength o’ the trees and the richness o’ the earth below. Know yerself a lucky man.

  “Go take yer walk, then, and enjoy the wood. But do’no’ stray too far. A man might get lost even in a friendly wood!” As Del started off, Andovar called after him, “Keep the fire in yer eyes!”