by Blaine Hart
“So that’s why they call them Meddlers. But why didn’t he just kill me then? Wouldn’t that waste my hidden potential?
It does not work like that. Your destiny is shaped around your own choices. If you’re violently pushed into another direction, like if a Meddler killed you, your hidden potential would just vanish and the meddler would pay a heavy price from the hidden forces, while accomplishing nothing. Destiny would reset again as if nothing happened. They have to trick you into taking that choice by yourself. That is when they have won.”
Vygarast took a long and tired sigh. After his battle with the Hydra and his meeting with the Meddler, he wanted to just rest. But he didn’t have time to spare. The longer he waited, the more his father was in need of his help. “Even so, I can’t let my father die because I was too tired to defend myself properly.
Azy gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Your destiny is still your own Vygarast. I’ll help you beat this meddler. I am well versed in their games. I was taught by the queen of fairies herself! He just caught me off-guard. Now that I know he is around… I’ll be ready next time.
Vygarast felt sudden energy surge through him. “Thanks Azy!” Vygarast stated as he gathered up all his supplies and quickly ate some of his food rations. I have to kill that Ogre and find a way to get the wizard to help my father.”
Vygarast strengthened his resolve and started to the other side of the river, where the Meddler walked mere moments before. He didn’t know these parts all that well, but if the instructions the villagers gave him were true, then the Ogre’s lair was close to the Wizard’s Tower.
Throughout their short, silent walk, a thought echoed in Vygarast’s mind. What did he mean by saying that I followed the worst half of my origin? Did he mean the elves or the humans? And why he left when he could kill me? Is my fate that important?
Lost in his thoughts, Vygarast almost stumbled on what it seemed like a bone on the ground. Startled by his sudden discovery, the Bard moved to one side and got ready for a fight. Before him he saw a long trail of bones and human skulls, going deeper into the woods.
Vygarast had thought that the Ogre would somehow be in a vulnerable position when he met it, making it easy for him to play his magic and trap it before slaughtering it. It was clear now that the beast did not have a specific lair, but wandered the deep part of the forest endlessly, feasting on its victims.
“Azy, what now? If we don’t know where it is, then I have no chance against it. My whole plan has depended on catching it off guard.”
Before he was able to complete his sentence, a slight tremor of the ground warned them, but by then it was too late to hide anymore. Vygarast drew his sword, only to feel a powerful force tossing him out three feet in the air to smash against the trunk of a giant elm tree. The roar that followed was that of a monster, sounding nothing like what Vygarast had heard before.
Oh great Mother, I had forgotten what the Ogres looked like, Azy whispered into Vygarast’s mind. She floated close to the ground where Vygarast lay, trying to raise his morale, but the man was unable to even stand on his feet and his thoughts just pained her. She was not looking so great either. The glittering aura surrounding her flashed now and then, like the first night they met. If they had a chance to get out of this alive, they had to work together. Fortunately, they both thought the same thing.
I will distract him. Cast your most powerful spell at him, she said and flew away before Vygarast had time to protest.
Up until then, Vygarast had not even seen the monster before him. Now that he did, he realized that every song mentioning Ogres was not doing them justice. Tall like a house, with a wolfish fur covering his skin, and as wide as two men standing shoulder to shoulder, this Ogre looked like an overgrown bear. And then some.
Vygarast gasped, watching the monster. “How in the heck did this thing sneak up on me?” Then he realized… this was an ambush. A beautiful perfect path right up to the kill spot. For a moment he thought of running away, abandoning his quest. But, after hearing the monster talk, he felt his anger burn. Somewhere in his mind, he couldn’t fathom that a creature like that could talk. “Master… told me… take care… of the elf… and the fairy.” The sounds coming out of its mouth were crude, fitting its intimidating appearance.
Master? What could he mean…? Vygarast thought, but before he could get his answer, he saw Azy falling dangerously fast towards the ground. “Azore!!!” He bellowed, but it was too late. She hit the ground hard and stopped moving. The ogre chortled loudly and turned to face Vygarast.
“Your. . .turn,” he growled and stomped his way towards Vygarast. The man knew that his magic would not work fast enough to immobilize it, and his sword would not be enough to cut it down.
What to do? What would Lanarast do if he was here? He jumped out of the ogre’s way, trying to find steady footing against the monster. Towering above him, it was difficult to aim for a vital part, and he was sure that his skin would be tough. His eyes were dark red, and his mouth was half open revealing sharp teeth.
Think Vygarast! You can’t keep dodging its attacks without a plan. There must be something you can do! Suddenly, a bright light caught his attention. It was building up fast, getting closer, actually surprising Vygarast. What is this? he thought.
As the little orb got closer, he was able to recognize the warm feeling coming from that light.
Without losing any time, Vygarast clenched the hilt of his sword in both hands tightly and got ready. The Ogre hadn’t noticed Azy when the fairy blinded the giant with her powerful magic light. A sudden roar came from deep within his lungs as the towering giant rubbed his eyes, trying to reclaim his lost sight.
It staggered, ready to fall. Out of nowhere, Vygarast’s feet started moving on their own, getting him closer and closer to the beast’s own unsteady feet. With a sharp swing, he cut a deep wound at the Ogre’s knee joint, making it roar in pain, and then fall on its back.
Amidst its roars, Vygarast climbed on its chest and put his sharp steel above its neck. The ugly Ogre, still half-blinded by Azy’s sudden assault, could not focus on the enemy. Instead, it uttered: “Who… are… you?”
A deep rage coming from deep within Vygarast’s guts drove him to press the steel of his sword into the Ogre’s neck. “I ask the questions here. Who is your master? Who ordered you to attack us?”
“You… are… so big…” it muttered, the last words it would ever say, before a black shadow swallowed it whole. Vygarast was barely able to get away from the vile magic, doing a powerful back flip and landing in a crouched position.
For the first time after three long days, Vygarast couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Chapter 7: The Owl Wizard
Vygarast woke up inside a dark, cool place, with a high ceiling. There were two spiraling staircases intertwining in what seemed like an elaborate dance of stonework. His head ached more than anything else in his body, the damp cold floor helping him recover more quickly. Everything was hazy in his mind, up to his fight with the Ogre. Abruptly, another memory came up to his mind.
“Azy? Azy, are you okay?” he said, quickly sitting on his butt and searching everywhere around him.
Yes, I’m right here. Don’t stretch yourself. We’re safe in here. But, even though she tried to reassure him, her talk was closely connected to her feelings, and in what it seemed like a stutter to a normal human, it felt like a warning coming from her.
“You! The marked one! You’re finally awake!” A shrewd voice came from above, from where the two spiraling staircases met. A man, a really old man, stood there, with his white robe falling in waves all the way to the stony floor. As he descended, Vygarast was finally able to catch up with the unraveling events.
“Sir Wizard… I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you,” even though he was still not sure how he ended up in there.
“Silence, child. A very important guest asked me to shelter you until you regained your consciousness. Now, if you excuse me esteemed fairy-child Az
ore, I’ll have to ask you to leave. I have just woken up from my slumber, and this half-breed did not come prepared.”
For the first time after meeting Azore, Vygarast heard what it was probably her true voice. In one of their late night talks, Azy had mentioned that talking straight to his mind was the only way they could communicate. Her language was too complex for a mere half-elf and could only be uttered at the Fairy Kingdom, or in places of diplomatic importance. That happened because a fairy could not lie if she used her native language.
Now that Vygarast heard her voice herself, it was like a wave of sadness touched his very soul. A vowel-centered language, full of ups and downs, and sudden turns in tone, seemed like a heart-felt sample of what was an ancient relic. When she ended, the wizard was standing still on the last step of the stairway, his hands behind his back.
Seeing him up close, Vygarast finally understood why he was called the Owl-Wizard. His eyes were bigger than average, and the skin around them was plagued by dark circles. It was like a constant shadow was falling on his face; his long, white beard almost licked the floor, and his fingers were scrawny and sinewy.
“Is that Passing creature so important for one of the Immortal races? I can help you with the Dukes. I can take us to them at a moment’s notice and make them sign your treaty. Why use him?”
And then, the voice came again. This time it was faster, flowing like a river in early spring, just after the first snows of the mountains started melting. Fortunately, her speech was short.
“Fine. If that is your wish, then so be it. But remember, the rules are the rules. I will overlook the price, but he still has to prove he’s charismatic and intelligent. I’m done helping creatures with dark intentions.”
Again, he was confused. The tale told of a greedy Wizard, one who would not help anyone without 1001 gold coins. But Azy had seemed to persuade him without gold. What did she say to him?
Still wondering, he felt a gust of air carry him upright. “Up, up boy. Consider yourself lucky that one of the fairies favors you. This will happen once, and only once. You have to answer my riddle to earn my help. People that are charismatic are usually intelligent and answering my riddle will prove you’re both. So, are you ready boy?” But before Vygarast had time to reply, the Wizard started talking:
“I never was, am always to be,
No one ever saw me, nor ever will
And yet I am the confidence of all
To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball.”
His booming voice filled the whole tower, making Vygarast ready to back off from this crazy man. Vygarast knew he had heard the riddle before, but he was not sure. His father always talked with riddles, especially when he was with Lanarast the Bold, but Vygarast never gave them enough attention, thinking them talk for old men.
Think! Think! Never was, always to be. . .no one saw me, nor ever will. . . damn, who am I kidding? I don’t know. With a quick glance he found the warm light emanating from Azy. She had showed such trust to him, and he was not able to solve a small riddle.
He decided to follow his gut and tell the first thing it popped up in his mind. “Maybe… is it a child?”
The Wizard raised his brows but never seemed to change his expression. “You’re wrong, marked one. Children younger than you were able to solve this riddle in the past, but it seems that your kind has lost much in knowledge. The correct answer is the future, boy. Remember that as your future is afflicted with bad luck.”
And without an expression on his face, the Wizard turned and started going up to the staircase again. Lost in disbelief, Vygarast could not control his emotions. “Wait! Wait! I’ll do anything to save my father. Just name your price and I’ll bring that much gold, and two times more. Just wait!”
The Wizard was now half way towards the top. Stupid Vygarast! You have to do something! Use your head! And just like that, a memory popped from deep within.
His master, Lanarast the Bold, had taught every single student of his the same things exactly. The first lesson was held up the first day of Autumn, outside the training grounds. He always gathered his new students around, as well as the older ones, and instructed them on what it means to be a Bard.
“Bards are not just playing the flute and casting spells. Being a Bard is to be constantly in love with music, no matter where it comes from. Music itself is magic, one able to soothe even the hardest of hearts. Don’t forget that! Your power does not lie in being strong casters, but using your heads and singing. Solve your problems with charisma and a wide grin on your faces.”
And just like that, Vygarast dug up the lute from his leather bag and squatted on the floor. He picked up the first song that came to his head, a lullaby of the elves that his mother used to sing to him when he was just a child. The melody was still hazy in his mind when he started, but as the notes took a hold of his hands, he was able to recite the whole song by heart.
He hadn’t sang like that before, not even to impress a girl, or show off to the rest of his friends. This time, Vygarast was singing of his love for his father. When he started, he didn’t expect for the old Wizard to stop. Maybe he wished really hard for it, or wanted to make a miracle out of thin air, but he didn’t expect it. As the song went on, even Vygarast himself forgot for a second that he was standing in an old, wizard’s tower somewhere West of Crowfair.
For a short moment, he was watching his mother leave again, with tears running down his face. When the song ended, his eyes were wet, but he managed to hold them back.
A pair of clapping hands surprised him. “That was beautiful, boy, a little too melancholic for my tastes, but beautiful nevertheless. I will help you, Vygarast the Bard, but only because your charisma greatly transcends your wits. And if the fairy Queen is right indeed, you’re more needed with aiding Azore than mourning your dead father. Come… we have no time to lose.”
And just like that, in a blink of the eye, they appeared just outside his house back in Midvein. He was suddenly home.
The wizard clapped his hands together and there was a mighty boom! He then commanded Vygarast to play the most victorious ballad he knew, and then enhanced his volume by tenfold! Azy hummed along in his head as he played the ballad of the mighty hero Kelyk who defended the realm with three heroes, five hundred archers and towers of stone! It wasn’t long before they had a group of fifty people following them to Vygarast’s home.
Lanarast was waiting outside his house, a look of disbelief on his face… quickly turning to a giant smile! He quickly embraced his young pupil and opened the door to allow the wizard inside.
The Owl Wizard frowned when he looked at Ornsell’s sleeping body. “I should of charged the gold for this one.” he stated sullenly. “Didn’t realize it was so bad!” “He continued to whine for several minutes… giving unhappy looks to both Vygarast and Azy. “I’ll be exhausted for six months after this! You realize?” he whines some more. But with all the people outside and crowding around the old wizard knew his reputation would be ruined if he didn’t perform. With a sharp grimace… knowing the pain that was about to come… the Owl Wizard pulled out his gem of power and a ragged looking scroll. With a mighty stamp of his staff he began to chant. The air around the village suddenly changed, as if it was about to storm, and the villagers fell silent. All that could be heard was the booming voice of the owl wizard as it took on an unearthly tone.
Thunderclouds gathered and lightning danced about as the old wizard chanted and chanted in what seemed like hours, but was only thirty minutes. There was a final lightning strike followed by a deafening boom and a blinding red light. The wizard fell to his knees and Ornsell jumped to his feet, a crazed look in his eyes.
The feast that followed the lifting of the curse was the biggest that Vygarast had seen in many years. Ornsell, his father, was beloved by everyone in the village, but there was also another reason for them to celebrate. Vygarast had returned a hero. Even more than that, he brought news about the rising of the legends.
Ornsell was in the middle of the feasting, eating enough food to satisfy three men and surrounded by his lifelong friends. The Wizard had said little after lifting the curse, and pretended like he was ok, but Azy had whispered the truth to him. The wizard had sacrificed ten years of his life for that spell and barely survived. It was up to her to repay that debt now.
“His body will rush to regain its strength, so don’t worry if he’ll eat more than expected in the coming days. The curse cast to him was a strong one, probably coming from one of the Royal members of the harpies. If I had to guess, the Queen would be the only one powerful enough to do something like that, but we will never know for sure. Your father is safe, but tell him not to return to the forest, not until the harpy threat has been dealt with.”
Vygarast nodded, feeling like a student once again. However, he had some questions himself. “What do you know of the Meddlers, great Wizard?”
“I know that they are people, humans mostly, that have defiled the sacred art of casting by using their dirty hands to draw from the flaws. You are a Bard, using instruments and flowing the magic through your art, but they are not anything like that. They have sacrificed their souls. Other than that, I don’t know why he was there, and what he was doing. But this is not good. If I were to guess… then it is that you have a powerful destiny. Someone whose life course will affect many. Meddlers tend not meddle with those who do not matter.”