Wizard of the Grove

by Tanya Huff

  “But you’ll freeze,” Crystal laughed, settling herself more comfortably.

  Raulin kissed her on the nose. “You’re a wizard, think of something.”

  “Hey!” Jago yelled. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

  “Never mind,” Raulin called back, neither lessening his pace nor turning his head. “Start lunch.”

  “You could make better time,” Sokoji observed as Raulin and Crystal disappeared behind a boulder, “if those two were not together on the harnesses.”

  “And if my brother could get a grip on his libido,” Jago grumbled, pulling out the campstove and the teapot. But he wasn’t really angry, for he could feel the easing of the tensions Crystal had been under all morning.

  * * *

  After lunch, Sokoji stood, stretched, and pointed almost due north, toward a mountain that looked as if its upper third had been sheared off. “That is the way you must go,” she said, “if you wish to reach Aryalan’s tower. Tonight we can be at the pass and tomorrow cross into her valley.”

  “Not that I’m saying you’re wrong, Elder, but according to frog-face’s map, we should be heading for the highest peak in the range.” Raulin came and stood beside the giant, waving his arm in the direction they’d been traveling. “And the highest mountain in the range is that one there.”

  “Yes,” Sokoji agreed, “now it is. But the demon had not been to the tower for many years, not since before the Doom. The mountain you point to did not exist then. Aryalan drew it out of the earth to stop the dragon, and this mountain . . .” The giant sighed and shook her head as she gazed at the jutting angles of rock that still looked raw even after more than a thousand years. “We called it the Mighty One, and it became as you see it now during the battle.”

  “Are you sure?” Raulin sounded skeptical.

  “Mortal, giants are never unsure. It is a skill we have. And besides, when last I went to the tower, that is the route I took.”

  “Yeah, a thousand years ago . . .”

  Sokoji turned to face him. “No, six winters ago.”

  “You were at the tower six winters ago?” Jago moved to stand by Raulin and stared up at the giant. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”

  “Didn’t I?” Her forehead wrinkled as she recalled all the words she’d spoken to the brothers. “Oh. I didn’t. How odd. Never mind, I shall tell you of it now.” She waved a massive hand toward the sleigh. “Perhaps if we could travel while I speak . . . We have little enough daylight this far north to waste any and it will mean we need not hurry later on.”

  Raulin and Jago exchanged glances so identically put out that Sokoji smiled. “I have not been keeping knowledge from you. I was quite sure I’d told you.”

  “I thought you said giants were never unsure,” Raulin reminded her.

  “I did,” Sokoji agreed placidly. “But I did not say we were never mistaken.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then Jago started to laugh. Raulin glowered for a moment more then, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching back, joined him. Soon they were bent double and swiping at the tears leaking from their eyes.

  Staring at them in fascination, Sokoji walked over to where Crystal leaned against the high back of the sleigh. “Are they hysterical?” she asked.

  “No. They’re mortals.” Crystal smiled at the two men who were still laughing but were beginning to regain control. “They tend to be a bit extreme.”

  The giant cocked one eyebrow in the wizard’s direction. “So I noticed this morning.”

  Crystal had the grace to blush.

  When they moved out, the brothers wore the harnesses while Crystal followed behind, the positions shaking down with an even mix of teasing and threats between Raulin and Jago. Sokoji walked by the front of the sleigh where the mortals could hear her unassisted and where she could use her strength to ease the path.

  Although Crystal could’ve heard a leaf fall back in the Sacred Grove in Ardhan, she missed the start of the giant’s story absorbed in watching Raulin and Jago walk. They looked like a cross between bears and ducks in their heavy fur coats and snowshoes. She grinned and gave thanks she had no need for the awkward footgear—her feet sank only as far as she allowed them to—then gave her attention to Sokoji’s words.

  “. . . and when the storm calmed, the winds told me that the door had been uncovered. I thought on it for some time . . .”

  “One year or two?” Raulin asked, unable to help himself.

  “Three. Mortals did not come that way, so I had no need to make a hasty decision. In the end, I admit curiosity alone drew me to the tower for watching would have been sufficient; there was no need to explore. Of old, the tower sat in the midst of a lake, perfectly round and created by Aryalan. Lilies bloomed on its surface, swans glided majestically about, and regardless of the season in the lands surrounding it, the lake remained in perpetual high summer. The tower appeared to be a summerhouse, in the old eastern style, very ornate but not overly large. It rested on an island as perfectly round as the lake. The summerhouse was merely the entrance way, the island itself was the tower.”

  As Sokoji spoke, her listeners saw the red tiled roofs curving over black lacquer walls, breathed deeply of the exotic flowers, heard the music that played softly from dawn to dusk.

  “The Doom destroyed all that, of course, and eventually the wizard as well. Winter, so long denied, moved quickly in to cover both lake and island with ice and snow. When I came at last to view what the storm had uncovered, only memory told me such beauty had ever been.”

  Jago sighed and Raulin turned to look at him in surprise.

  “You grew up in Kraydak’s Empire, Jago. You know how evil the ancient wizards were. How can you be sorry Aryalan’s tower got trashed?”

  “Beauty is neither good nor evil, brother, it just is.”

  “Well, this was beauty no longer,” Sokoji continued as Raulin sputtered. “The lilies, the swans, and the flowers had long since died and of the summerhouse only a single room remained whole. The residue of power echoed strongly and I felt it recognize me as an intruder.”

  “Trapped,” Raulin declared, stepping on the edge of his own snowshoe and almost tripping himself in his excitement.

  “Yes,” the giant agreed, reaching out a hand to steady him. “But as I said, only the residue of power remained and it was not enough to hold one of the Elder.” Her voice took on a faint shading of pain. “Although it came closer than I care to remember. In the room’s floor is a trapdoor and if you seek treasure you need go no farther, for it is made of ebony and ruby. Enough wealth to enjoy ease the rest of your days.”

  “What? In the gatehouse?” Raulin asked incredulously while Jago looked relieved.

  “The ancient wizards were fond of gaudy display.”

  Crystal remembered the gold-lined room in Kraydak’s tower and wondered what his halls had been like when he was at the height of his power.

  “Sokoji,” she called. “Did you not lift the door?”

  “What difference does it make?” Jago broke in before Sokoji had a chance to answer, praying Crystal hadn’t put ideas into Raulin’s head. “We won’t need to go into the tower itself.”

  Raulin, who had a pretty good idea of his brother’s thoughts, caught Crystal’s eye and winked. “I’m kind of curious myself,” he said blandly. Jago whirled on him, mouth open to deliver a blistering lecture on irresponsibility, when he added, “Not that we’ll be entering ourselves. Will we, Jago?”

  Jago sputtered in his turn and Raulin punched him gently on the arm.

  “Don’t worry, little brother, I intend to get rich, not dead.”

  Sokoji shook her head. Mortals, it would take much thought to understand them, she decided. “Do not think the gatehouse is without dangers,” she warned. “Less dangerous than the tower does not mean safe, but, yes, I lifted th
e door. Below it, a massive staircase spiraled down for a distance over twice my height. It, too, had been trapped but the ancient destruction had fortunately rendered all but one inoperative. That one . . .” She sighed and began again. “That one gave me a small amount of trouble, but in the end I overcame it.”

  “Why do I get the feeling we don’t want to know what went on?”

  Sokoji looked down at Raulin, her brown eyes serious. “It doesn’t matter. I will tell you no more than I have.” She chewed on the edge of her lip—something the others had never seen her do—made a visible effort to banish the memory, and continued. “At the bottom of the stairs there stood another door. I didn’t open it although I had paid the price.”

  “Why not?” Jago asked gently.

  “I couldn’t pass,” she said simply. “In both height and width, it had been built too small.”

  They traveled in silence after that; Raulin’s thoughts on treasure and the battle that would come before he held it, Crystal’s moving beyond the second door, and Jago wondering what could be so bad that the giant could not, would not, speak of it.

  * * *

  The next morning they got their first good look at the pass into Aryalan’s valley.

  “Forget it,” Raulin declared emphatically. “There has to be another way.”

  “Not without going many miles. Another month of traveling perhaps. What’s wrong with this path?”

  “It’s too . . .” Raulin waved his hands about and Jago finished it for him.

  “High.”

  “Yes?”

  Jago gripped Raulin’s shoulder. “My brother,” he explained, “hasn’t much of a head for heights. Nor,” he added, taking another look at the pass, “are either of us related to goats.”

  From where they stood they could see the ledge they had to follow dwindling into almost nothing as it curved around the mountain.

  “Look, why don’t we just follow the gorge,” suggested Raulin. “It’s going in the right direction. It’s an easy walk. When it ends, then we can take to the ledge.”

  Sokoji shook her head. “The gorge ends in a cliff, thirty of your body lengths or more high. If you wish to enter the valley, this is the only way.”

  Crystal caught both Raulin’s hands in hers. “It has to be wider than it appears,” she said gently, “or Sokoji would not be able to use it.” Her eyes began to glow and she allowed him to sink a little way into their emerald depths. “I would never let you fall.” The glow dimmed.

  He returned the pressure of her fingers and said, “My heart believes you; I’ll see what I can do to convince my feet.”

  Working quickly, for Sokoji was vague about the length of the pass and none of them wanted to be caught on the ledge after dark, they stripped the sleigh of everything they could carry. Even considering the size of the packs, looming like great misshapen growths on the brother’s backs, that seemed a distressingly small amount when compared to what remained on the sleigh.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Jago reassured Crystal after she pointed this out. He settled the rope holding the bedrolls into a more comfortable position on her shoulders. “We always figured we’d have to leave the sleigh at some point. With you and Sokoji helping out, we’re taking more than we planned on.”

  “You planned on being without the shelter?” She shivered in sympathy, warming the fingers he held out to her—knots and lashings needed freedom from mittens.

  “It’s only for one night,” Raulin reminded her. “The next night we’ll be in the gatehouse—Sokoji promises it’s safe—and the night after, we’ll be back at the sleigh. Provided, of course, we haven’t all dashed our brains out falling off the mountain.”

  “Land on your head, you’ll bounce.”

  “I’d land on yours given half a chance.”

  Jago reached over and chucked him under the chin. “Glad to see you’ve regained your sunny disposition.”

  Raulin growled something uncomplimentary and shook his fist at the younger man, but Crystal saw the tightness leave his face for the first time since he’d seen the pass.

  Slipping a small bag of oatmeal into her pocket—a pocket Jago was certain already held the teapot—Sokoji shook her head at their bickering and asked, “Are you ready then?”

  “As ready as we’ll ever be,” Raulin sighed.

  Crystal and Jago nodded.

  The giant turned and led the way up the blasted slope of the Mighty One.

  Great chunks of pinkish granite made a straight line impossible, so they wove a serpentine path around and over the destruction, often traveling at an angle where hands were needed as much as feet.

  “I don’t think,” Raulin panted as they rested about halfway between the sleigh and the rock ledge they were aiming for, “I have ever been so tired. This pack weighs two hundred pounds.”

  “Old and out of shape,” gasped Jago, pulling off his hat and fanning himself with the end of one braid. He let a mitten dangle from its string and scratched vigorously at his beard; sweat was running into it and it itched. Maybe it would’ve been a better idea to let Crystal remove it as she had Raulin’s. . . .

  “Are your legs sore?” Crystal asked, squatting beside Raulin and studying him with a worried frown. She laid a hand on his thigh and he covered it with one of his.

  “Crystal, we’ve been walking up and down mountains for weeks now. My legs are like rock.” He groaned without opening his eyes. “My back, however, is killing me. Thank you,” he added as it suddenly stopped. “Now, if you could just transport us to the tower . . .”

  “I could make your packs lighter.”

  “We discussed this already. You use your power for necessities only. Lightening our packs is no necessity.” He heaved himself to his feet. His undershirt—living up to its name under four further layers of clothing plus the great fur overcoat—was soaking wet and sticking to his back. Drops of sweat trickled down his sides, and, adding a new sensation to the discomfort, a freezing wind kept trying to sneak into his sleeves, finding the smallest of spaces between mittens and cuffs. “On your feet, junior, we’re wasting daylight.”

  Jago sighed, put his hat on, and tried to stand. The pack remained where it was and, because he was securely attached, so did Jago. “You could quit laughing and help,” he pointed out when he’d stopped flailing.

  Sokoji reached down and lifted him easily to his feet, her face grave. “Turtles,” she said helpfully, “have much the same problem.”

  “Thank you.” He glared at Raulin, daring him to say a word and put out a hand to steady himself. “Chaos!” The corner of granite he’d grabbed had sliced into his outer mitten, almost going through the heavy sheepskin. He studied the slash and then the rock. “That thing’s got an edge like a knife.” he marveled.

  Raulin ran a cautious thumb along it and stuck the thumb in his mouth when it proved not to be cautious enough.

  Jago grinned at him. “All right, don’t take my word for it . . .” He glanced down as his mitt flared green, but an equal flare in Crystal’s eyes decided him against commenting on the necessity of the power use.

  “You’d think these edges would’ve worn smooth by now,” Raulin said reflectively. “It’s been a long time.”

  Sokoji’s eyes lifted to the shattered peak. “The mountain remembers,” she said softly.

  “Are you saying this mountain thinks?” asked Raulin.

  “It remembers. The mountains are the bones of the Mother.”

  “Why don’t I find that reassuring?” he muttered as they began to climb again.

  The ledge was wider than it appeared from the ground and for a little while it edged a slope not much steeper than the one they’d just come up.

  Raulin kept his mind on his feet and his gaze firmly locked on Sokoji’s broad back. He tried not to notice as the angle of the slope dropped away until the only word
for it became cliff. He reminded himself that on level ground he had walked a path much narrower than the width they had here.

  Sokoji stopped suddenly and he bumped against her.

  “Give me the rope,” she said.

  Jago took the coil off his shoulder and passed it up to the giant who tied one end about her waist and handed the rest back to Raulin.

  “Keep about my body length of slack between us,” she instructed. “Then tie it securely and give it to your brother so he can do the same.”

  “Why so much slack?” Raulin asked, trying to keep his thoughts off all the possible reasons for the rope.

  “If you fall, the slack gives those next to you time to anchor themselves.” She caught the look on his face and patted his shoulder with a comforting but heavy hand. “You need not continue. At this point we can still easily turn and go back.”

  “At this point? Does that mean we can’t turn later on?”

  “Yes.”

  “I had to ask.”

  “Could be worse,” Jago murmured behind him. “We could be in the snowshoes.”

  Raulin closed his eyes and leaned against the mountainside, noting absently as he did that it rose up as perpendicular on the right as it fell away on the other side. He heard his brother say they could turn back, that it didn’t matter, but on the inside of his lids he saw a great door of ebony and ruby, wealth enough to buy them a secure place in the world. He sighed, opened his eyes, and finished tying the knot about his waist.

  Jago took the offered rope without comment, knowing the battle Raulin must be fighting with himself in order to go on. He’d seen his brother shake when he’d had to lean out a third-story window. No words could make it easier, so he offered his silent support.

  Crystal felt Raulin’s fear, felt Nashawryn twitch in answer, and hoped that if anything happened she would not have to fight the dark goddess for Raulin’s life.

  “Remember,” Sokoji told them when they were all securely tied, “the ledge holds me; you are in little danger.”