by Pedro Urvi
Good. Dance.
Ona moaned again and looked into Lasgol’s eyes, with her own large feline ones pleading with him to join them.
I don’t know how to dance.
Easy. Like me. Camu messaged, and emphasized his own movements.
Lasgol looked at Camu, then at Ona, and sighed heavily. I can’t believe I’m about to do this. I must be feverish.
He got down on all fours beside Ona and began to flex his arms and legs as his friends were doing.
Dance. Happy, Camu transmitted along with a feeling of great joy. Lasgol, who felt ridiculous, began to feel happy too because he was having fun with his two companions. As he did not have a tail like them, he began to shake his butt a little as if he did.
Dance. Dance, Camu transmitted joyfully.
Lasgol forgot that he was being utterly ridiculous and went on flexing his arms and legs and shaking his backside, while Ona chirped happily.
Suddenly the door opened and Egil came in. He stared at them without moving, trying to understand the tragicomic situation. It took him no time at all to grasp what was going on.
“Hey, look at this! A party!”
He left the books he was carrying on the table and got down on all fours beside the two of them.
“We’re dancing…” Lasgol said. He was red as a tomato.
“Fantastic! Show me how.”
Lasgol smiled and showed him the strange and unbalanced movements he was making. Egil followed his example, and soon the four of them were dancing.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lasgol confessed.
“What I can’t believe is that we haven’t done it before. This is great!”
Lasgol burst out laughing, and Egil joined him.
They danced and laughed and enjoyed themselves until their arms would not hold them up any longer, then they collapsed on the floor in utter happiness.
“Wonderful idea,” said Egil.
“It was Camu’s idea.”
“Camu, you’re an artist,” Egil told him.
Camu ran to jump on to Egil, and a moment later Ona joined them. The three ended up rolling on the floor amid Egil’s giggles, Camu’s happy shrieks and Ona’s delighted chirps.
Lasgol watched them, smiling from ear to ear. He felt that he was the luckiest man in Tremia with those amazing companions.
When at last Camu and Ona had left Egil in peace, he asked Lasgol: “Now tell me, what did Dolbarar want?”
Lasgol told him the conversation he had had and showed him his orders. He also told him about Haakon and Ivana.
“I don’t like it. The capital is just as dangerous a place for you as it is for me.”
“Because they’re trying to kill us?”
Egil was shaking his head uneasily. “Precisely, and they’ll have plenty more opportunities there. A great city lends itself to them. I don’t like the fact that you’ve got to go.”
Lasgol did his best to calm him. “Don’t worry, Astrid and Nilsa are there. I’ll be safe.”
“That goes some way toward reassuring me, but bear in mind that they’ll be busy with their own missions. It’s more than likely that they won’t be able to help you as much as they need to.”
“True. But at least I’ll have them there. I think it’ll be enough.”
Egil gave him a worried look. “Be very careful, my friend.”
“I will.”
Egil nodded. He was uneasy on Lasgol’s behalf, but they both knew there was nothing they could do about it. When a Ranger was given a mission he had to carry it out immediately, however complicated or dangerous it might be.
“You keep an eye on Dolbarar and let me know of any change in his health.”
“Of course.”
“And keep me informed of any important news about the war.”
“I’ll send you Milton with news, don’t worry.”
“Perfect.”
“Time to say goodbye again,” said Lasgol, smiling, even though his eyes could not hide the sadness he felt at having to leave his great friend.
Egil shrugged and sighed deeply. “I fear this is going to be a constant in our new lives.”
They hugged one another tightly.
“The best of luck,” Egil said.
“The same to you.”
Egil said goodbye to Camu and Ona. Camu complained about having to lose his company, and it took Lasgol some time to make him understand that they had duties to perform. His friend did not entirely understand the concepts of duty and obligation. For him, everything was play and fun. Lasgol understood that this was normal for the creature, who was still very young. His vision of life was very simple, like that of a cub or a small child.
After the farewells, Lasgol went to the stables to fetch Trotter. As he passed various Rangers and contenders, he realized that nobody was murmuring, nobody was insulting him under their breath or staring at him with hatred in their eyes. He did not hear a single harsh word. The incident with the Fourth-years must have become widely known. Some pieces of news spread like wildfire throughout the Camp, and this seemed to have been one of them. He raised his chin so that they could all see how proud he was of being the person he was, the son of Mayra and Dakon, the son of Darthor and the Traitor, and he would always be proud of it. Anyone who challenged him about it would have to face the consequences. He would not let himself be stepped on anymore. He was a Ranger, a Specialist, and he had fought in battles and carried out missions. He had all the right in the world to be respected.
He left the Camp on Trotter, with Ona on one side and Camu, invisible, on the other. He breathed out deeply. He was starting a new mission, and he knew it was going to be a complicated one.
Chapter 21
The journey to the capital would take several weeks. It was in the center of the kingdom, a little to the east. Since Lasgol was coming from the north, he decided to take the forest route, avoiding towns and villages, as Rangers liked to do. He felt much more at ease among forests and mountains than in villages and ever-crowded cities. Besides, in open country there was less chance of coming across danger than there would be in a city – and if he did, he could see the danger coming. He could not expect the same between rock walls and alleyways.
Ona and Camu were delighted to be crossing forests and grasslands, particularly now that spring was beginning to arrive and the weather was far pleasanter. Life seemed to be flourishing in all its splendor in every corner they passed. The two animals seemed livelier and more playful than usual, if such a thing were possible. And not only them: the forests vibrated with activity and had clad themselves in a range of vivid colors which delighted the eyes. Wildlife appeared everywhere, filling earth, rivers and blue skies. The landscapes which surrounded them were amazingly beautiful. Lasgol breathed in, filling his lungs with the gentle breeze which smelt of spring, and this delighted him.
Half-way through the journey he stopped to rest beside a waterfall which fell into a small pond. Camu dived straight into the water, scaring fish and birds, and even one or other nearby predator. Ona watched him from the bank. She did not like water very much, but she wanted to play with him. Even so, she hesitated to go in.
Jump in, Camu transmitted to her.
The panther put her paw in the water and moaned reluctantly.
Play. Water, Camu insisted. He was floating like an otter, belly up, or perhaps more like a crocodile, since he looked reptilian.
Ona protested again, but in the end she could not resist any more and went into the water. She swam as she did everything else, nimbly and elegantly.
Camu jumped on to her. For a moment it looked as if a crocodile and a panther were fighting for life in the pond, but they were simply playing, like the two good siblings they were.
Trotter, you rest, Lasgol transmitted mentally to the good pony.
Trotter nodded, moving his head up and down, and began to graze a few paces away. Lasgol sat beside the water watching Ona and Camu play, chasing each other in the water. They
lunged at each other, swirled and fought, sending splashes everywhere.
Trotter. Come, Camu suddenly transmitted to the pony.
Lasgol turned to look at Trotter. It was the first time Camu had addressed the pony, at least as far as he knew.
The pony neighed and moved away from the water.
Trotter. Water. Play, Camu insisted.
Trotter snorted and shook his head. He did not want to go.
Leave Trotter alone, Lasgol transmitted.
Play. Water. Fun.
Sure, but he doesn’t want to.
Why?
Because ponies don’t like water very much.
Water. Fun.
For you everything is fun.
Everything no.
Lasgol snorted and shook his head. Since when have you been speaking to Trotter?
After Ona.
Lasgol understood that Camu, once he had discovered how to speak to Ona, had tried the same with Trotter and had been successful. This was remarkable. It meant that he had developed the same Animal Communication skill as he had himself. He watched his little friend in the water. The fact that two beings as different as himself and Camu had developed the same skill was highly significant. Magic seemed to transcend races and species, which was very interesting and at the same time a little alarming. It might mean that there were creatures in Tremia with the Gift who were capable of developing the same skills as the best and most powerful Magi, or even superior ones. Immediately he thought of Egil. Here was a new subject to talk about for days. These discoveries were going to fascinate him.
Don’t speak to other creatures before telling me.
Why?
Because it might be dangerous.
Not dangerous.
We don’t know that, and in any case you might frighten them.
Only speak.
Yeah, but animals without magic don’t understand what’s happening. They don’t know who’s talking to them or how. D’you understand?
I understand.
And you’ll do as I say?
Yes…
Lasgol snorted. The creature was not going to do anything of the sort.
Listen to me, or else we’re going to get into serious trouble.
Trouble?
Danger.
I good.
Yeah, that’s what you’re trying to make me think, but I’m not buying it.
Ona jumped on to Camu in the water, and once again the fighting, rolling and splashing started all over again. Lasgol, who enjoyed watching them play, relaxed and let them go on until they collapsed, exhausted, under a tree. He scratched his chin thoughtfully, wondering what new skills Camu would develop. It intrigued him and at the same time worried him. On the one hand he wanted Camu to develop new magical skills, just as he was doing. On the other, he was afraid that one or other of them would get them into big trouble, seeing how mischievous Camu was. This was an ever-present possibility.
He stared at the water of the pond, which was now still. The breeze caressed his face and stirred his blond hair. He thought about his parents, whom he missed. Almost unconsciously, he reached for his mother’s pendant, the Experience Marker, which he wore on his chest along with the two Ranger medallions. He decided to try calling up a vision.
He used the trick he had learnt to activate the jewel, put his finger in his eye until it watered, then moistened the jewel. There was a bluish flash, which surprised him by its immediacy. Usually it took longer to activate.
Ona, always alert, saw the flash and did not like it. She growled and eyed him tensely, her ears flattened back.
Magic, Camu warned, sending concern and warning as he always did when he detected magic.
Take it easy, both of you, it’s my mother’s pendant. Nothing’s wrong. I’m calling up a vision.
Why?
To know more about my parents, about their lives.
Magic dangerous.
Not always. This one isn’t.
Not know.
Lasgol was surprised. Camu had reasoned that argument very well. It was true, he did not know. He trusted that being his mother’s pendant, its magic, its enchantment or spells would be benign. But he did not know this.
True. I don’t know, but I think it’s good magic. My mother’s.
Camu blinked hard and shook his head from one side to the other. He was not convinced by the reply.
There was another blue flash, and Ona hissed.
Easy, Ona. Everything’s all right.
The third flash came, and his two friends looked at him with doubt in their eyes. Lasgol was glad of their concern, but he wanted to see the vision. Perhaps he would learn something new that would help him, or let him understand the past – or even the future – better. With this hope, he focused on the image that was beginning to take shape over the waters of the pond.
He rubbed his hands while the image took shape, feeling very nervous. What would the vision show him? Would it be his mother or his father? Both? Would whatever it revealed be important?
The moment the image became fully clear, he recognized his mother. She was dressed as Darthor and was at the top of a snow-covered hill, so he guessed this must be the Frozen Territories of northern Norghana, or else somewhere in the Frozen Continent itself. It was night-time, and he was watching some kind of ritual. Twenty or so Arcanes of the Glaciers, forming a circle around a huge rectangular block of ice, were chanting a strange, funereal melody.
“The ceremony has begun, my Lord,” came a voice which Lasgol recognized.
“Thank you, Asrael,” his mother said as she turned toward the Shaman who had come up to her side. “But I don’t know what I’m doing here. Why do you want me to watch this ritual of your people?”
“I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“Will it help us win the war?”
“That’s a lot to venture. It might be an advantage, perhaps a definitive one. Or it might be no use to us at all.” He shrugged.
“If there’s a possibility that it might help us win, no matter how distant, then I’m interested.”
“That’s what I thought, my lord.”
“You did well.”
Lasgol, who could see more clearly now, realized that they were in the Frozen Continent. The block of ice had broken off from a glacier he could partially see, and whose blue sheen left no doubt that it was not the north of Norghana, where there were no glaciers.
“I can feel the power of your Arcanes. They’re using magic. To what end?”
“Soon Hotz will arrive. Then you’ll understand, my lord.”
“Hotz? That grumpy, self-centered hermit? Do you really need him for the ritual?”
Asrael nodded several times. “He’s the one who has most power among us Arcanes.”
“Yes, but he’s also a hermit who wants nothing to do with what’s happening,” Mayra protested. There was bitterness in her voice.
Asrael shrugged. “He’s a little peculiar and very withdrawn, true, but nobody among my people has more knowledge and power.”
“I’d rather not need him. The last time we spoke, the conversation didn’t end at all well. It almost ended in bloodshed.”
“I remember… and I’m sorry. Hotz is an erudite shaman. Wise, but not interested in the living and their problems, he’s that particular.”
“Yes,” Mayra cried, “and he refuses to help his people against the Norghanians even though the future of all his people is at stake, all the people of this whole continent!” She could not hide her anger against the strange shaman and her distaste for him.
“He lives for the study of the past, and of those who are departed.”
“That won’t help us to win the war.”
“Maybe it will… his knowledge and power might reawaken the past and with it forge the future.”
Mayra turned to him. “Explain yourself.”
“This continent has many secrets buried under its layers of ice. Powerful secrets, age-old.”
“You mea
n the Creatures of the Ice?”
“Partly. There are very powerful creatures in this continent. Creatures with power, who have lived in the glaciers, caverns and underground abysses of this continent for a long time.”
“That much I know: creatures like your companion Misha.”
Asrael nodded. “Exactly. But there are others that sleep the Ice Slumber.”
“I don’t know that term. I don’t recall ever having heard it. What do you mean by the Ice Slumber?”
“That’s what my people call the creatures in an eternal slumber, frozen in the ice.”
Mayra was silent. She watched the Arcanes in their ritual around the fallen block of ice.
“I think I begin to understand.”
At that moment a solitary figure appeared. It passed in front of Mayra and Asrael without stopping or greeting them, and there was no doubt that it was an Arcane of the Glaciers. He looked very old, with deep trenches running along his sleepy-looking face. His eyes were small and grey. He was older than Asrael, so he must have lived through a great deal. He walked with a hunch, leaning on a staff that seemed to be made of ice.
Asrael bowed deeply. “Thank you for coming, Erudite,” he greeted him respectfully.
Hotz did not even glance at him, but went on toward the ritual and merely grunted to Asrael.
“As pleasant as usual,” Mayra said sarcastically.
The erudite approached the block of ice and stared at it for a long time from different angles, while the Arcanes continued their chanting.
“What’s he doing?” Mayra asked.
“He’s studying the discovery. He wants to make sure it’s worth his effort.”
“Worth his effort?”
“He won’t deign to step in unless he considers the finding important enough, and within his area of interest.”
Mayra muttered something rude. “It’s unheard-of! We’re dying in a war, and he’s so snooty he won’t condescend to help!”
“Some wise men are difficult,” Asrael said apologetically.
Hotz finished his examination of the discovery. He took off his seal-fur coat and knelt in front of the great standing rectangular block of ice, then closed his eyes, stretched out his arms and joined in the chanting.