With a blinding flash, the tiny flame blazed upward in a guttering rage and burned the candle furiously down to its end, leaving behind a pile of hot drippings, the smell of scorched wax and a gout of choking smoke. Ilien sat dumbfounded before the wizard.
Gallund's cane beat a steady tap tap tap on the floor. "Control," he said, waving a hand through the thick, white cloud that enveloped him. "Control. Always say the spell aloud. It's easier to tame your voice than it is to master your thoughts. And remember, the language of magic is no different than your own. Don't massacre it. Watch your tenses, avoid incomplete sentences, no unnecessary adverbs and please, oh please, use the proper words! Slang in a Flaming Fingers spell will get you just that."
Ilien looked at him in confusion.
Gallund's cane increased its beat. "Flaming fingers! It will get you flaming fingers!"
Ilien nodded and tried to ignore the cane's impatient tapping as he studied the next passage.
"Kinul—" he began.
"Tut tut! Tenses! Watch your tenses!"
Ilien eyed Gallund's cane with wishes for a saw. "Kinil ubid, illubid kinar," he said aloud.
He held up his hand and a small globe of light, like a tiny full moon, appeared in his palm. It grew to the size of an apple, glowing pale gold. He removed his hand and the spot of light hovered where he left it. Upon his command, he sent it flying about the room. Finally it came to rest like a halo above the wizard's head.
"Better." Gallundeyes softened. "Keep reading, but remember, no more jumping ahead. Read as far as Moving Marbles, no farther. I'll be downstairs. When you're through you can come down and eat. We wouldn't want you wasting away to nothing while your mother's in Dell, now would we?"
Ilien went back to studying the Kindle Candle spell as Gallund closed the door behind him. But as soon as he heard the wizard's footsteps descending the stairs he flipped the page - twice.
Two pages isn't really jumping ahead, he thought. It's really more like creeping than jumping. Creeping sounded more cautious, and thus more responsible. He had just begun reading about the dangers of lightning bolts—"Caution! Be sure to avoid the future tense of the verb Involt for risk of being struck next Monday"—when . . .
"Ilien!" The wizard stood in the doorway, his eyes flashing with annoyance.
Caught!
Ilien slammed the giant book shut—on the fingertips of his left hand! He bit back a startled cry and looked up at Gallund, forcing a smile across his grimace of pain.
The wizard merely pointed to the space above his head where the tiny globe of light still hovered. "Would you mind?"
Ilien stifled a laugh and called the light back to his side where it floated lazily above the table.
As the late afternoon faded into early evening and the sun sank below the fields outside, Ilien was forced to abandon his studies. Even after he had brightened the magical light so he could see, he just couldn't keep it from wandering away. Whenever he tried to concentrate on the lightning bolt passage, he lost control and the light drifted off, making it impossible to read. He thought of lighting a lamp, but he was tired and hungry and decided to quit for the night. Besides, he had only managed to shock himself twice while trying to learn the blasted spell, and hoped the beginning of the week didn't bring any unexpected storms.
"Control," he mumbled, lamenting his lack of it. He spoke a few words to the magical light and it dimmed, but didn't go out. A few more words spoken sternly and it reluctantly faded to darkness, leaving the room steeped in shadows.
Ilien sat in the darkness and wondered what he would do tomorrow. Tomorrow was Saturday, a day usually relegated to chores and homework, but his mother was in Dell visiting an uncle he had never met, and Gallund wasn't one for enforcing his mother's rules. The old wizard usually spent the morning reading the paper, and the afternoon napping. Ilien guessed he could go fishing. He loved to fish, even if he often fished alone. He could hike up to Parson's Hill and climb the big pine tree there, but he'd done that a hundred times before, and though he still marveled at how far he could see—all the way to the Three Lakes, he was convinced—it was a long walk back, and Stan and Peaty were sure to be on the lookout for him. He'd heard there would be a pick up game of Cracksticks at the town common around noon, but he wasn't much good at Cracksticks and was always striking out when the bases were loaded. He looked glumly at his spellbook, a giant slab of shadow in the blackness, and suddenly didn't feel much good at anything.
The sudden clatter of hooves outside jarred Ilien from his gloomy thoughts and sent him rushing to the window, tripping over his chair on the way. The western horizon glimmered purple and grey, and a few bright stars shone in the black sky to the east. Down below a single rider sat astride a black horse. Bright light spilled into the yard as Gallund went out to greet him, and from the way the pair acted it was apparent to Ilien that they knew each other. The rider dismounted and hitched his horse to the fence surrounding the front yard. The two talked briefly on the front stoop, then Gallund motioned toward the door and they walked inside.
Who in the world would come to visit Gallund? Ilien wondered. Surely the crusty old wizard didn't actually have friends. Well, he'd just have to find out. Besides, it was time for supper anyhow.
"Wouldn't want you wasting away to nothing while your mother's in Dell," he said in his best wizard's voice. At that, the tiny globe of light flickered to life behind him and Ilien nearly fell back over his chair.
"Go away. Didn't I tell you to fade? Now fade!"
Again the little light dimmed but didn't go out. Instead, it flew under the table and hid, casting up thick, black shadows upon the ceiling. Ilien sighed and shut the door behind him, locking the magical globe of light in the study.
Ilien tiptoed his way along the darkened hallway. The picture frames on the wall looked like square, black patches in the gloom. As he neared the stairs he heard Gallund down below invite the rider to sit, then the wizard must have lit a lamp for the bottom of the stairs grew brighter. Ilien crept quietly down, avoiding the creaky fifth step, and hid in the shadows to hear their conversation and see who it was.
The rider sat in one of the high-backed chairs by the hearth. Ilien saw then that Gallund hadn't lit a lamp, but rather had stoked the fire, and was throwing more wood into the flames even then. Soon a large blaze hissed and crackled in the fireplace, casting its orange light upon the stranger.
Week-old whiskers stained a weather-beaten face. Bright green eyes canvassed the room. That was all Ilien saw before the man looked away and stretched his muddy boots out toward the fire. As he did so the glint of chain mail flashed beneath his cloak, and Ilien's heart suddenly jumped with thoughts of adventure and knights and swords. But what Ilien found most curious was not the armor. What stuck with him were the piercing eyes that had searched the room, and though they never fell his way, Ilien felt somehow certain that the man knew he was there, crouching like a cat upon the stairs. As Gallund left to fetch some hot mead, Ilien shrank back further into the shadows.
Just then the magical globe of light appeared beside him, trying its best to be as dim as an ember. The stranger flew to his feet. The tiny light disappeared, but it was too late for Ilien. The man seized him quickly by the collar.
"And what do I have here, lurking in the dark like an overgrown rat?" He looked Ilien up and down. "Or should I say mouse?"
Ilien struggled to free himself. "Let go of me!"
At that moment, Gallund returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. When he saw Ilien suspended off the floor in the other's rude grasp, he burst into laughter, nearly spilling the piping hot mead he'd brought for him and the rider.
"Put him down, Thessien. That's no way to treat my new apprentice."
The rider looked at Ilien in surprise, then set him down, bowing low in apology. "My pardons, young master. It has been a long time since I've been in a respectable place where people can be trusted." He bowed again.
Ilien stood dumbfounded. The magical globe
of light reappeared, hovering above his head, but he didn't notice. He was transfixed by the tall stranger before him.
"Were you spying on us?" the wizard asked.
Ilien swallowed hard and looked at his teacher. "I just wanted to—" but he stopped. The magical globe dimmed as if suddenly ashamed as well.
Gallund handed Thessien his mug and scrutinized his pupil. "Well, are you just going to stand there all night and tire your legs? Please, sit down."
Globe tried to follow, but Gallund pointed a long finger in its direction. "Not you! It's back upstairs for you." When Globe refused to move, Gallund reached for his cane. The tiny light hissed then disappeared.
Gallund and Thessien talked long into the night, many times sending Ilien to stoke the fire and fetch more hot mead. Ilien was beginning to wish he had stayed upstairs with his nose in his spell book; the man's thirst had no end! But in between trips to the kitchen he listened to their conversation and soon changed his mind.
"Tensions rage anew," Thessien said, gesturing with his mug and spilling mead in the process. "Berkhelven has raised an army, if you can call it that, and Evendolen has been training its archers and footmen."
"I do hope this story has an ending," Gallund interrupted. "Preferably one that will tell me why you are here. It seems unlikely that you would travel so far from the Eastland simply to request help with some ridiculous land spat. Surely this mountain they're fighting over can't hold that much gold."
Thessien smiled and took a long pull of his mead. "I see you're still as impatient as ever." He wiped his mouth with a grimy hand. "Yes, my story does have an ending, even one worthy of a Nomadin's ear, though I'm not sure it's one you'd choose to hear."
"A Nomadin? What's a Nomadin?" Ilien asked as he threw yet another log onto the fire.
Gallund settled back in his chair, his cane upon his lap. "I am Nomadin."
"But I thought you were a wizard."
"I'm called a great many things, Ilien. Whatever the name, rest assured, I'm still the same."
Thessien leaned forward, his grizzled face a mask of annoyance. "May I finish?"
"Please do," Gallund insisted.
"Both sides in the dispute claim their miners have been disappearing. Each blames the other. Each denies the accusation." Thessien turned silent.
"And?" Gallund prodded, looking up.
"We believe a NiDemon has crossed."
"What are NiDemons?" asked Ilien.
Gallund gazed at the hissing fire and sighed. He stroked the handle of his cane, his eyes soft and polished in the flame light. "And your proof?"
"This." Thessien reached beneath his cloak and withdrew a small leather pouch tied fast with heavy string. He opened it carefully, producing a small, smooth stone. A perfect skipping stone, thought Ilien. It fit easily in Thessien's palm. He held it out for Gallund to see. As he did the room filled with a foul stench. The fire in the hearth sputtered and crackled. Ilien grabbed his nose. He hadn't smelled anything so awful since coming across the remains of one of Farmer Parson's calves after the wolves had taken their fill last July.
"Put it away," bade the wizard, as if pained by more than just the sickening odor.
Thessien placed it back in the leather pouch, cinching it tight. "It was found deep in the mountain where the mining tunnels end and the natural ones begin. There were others."
"What is it?" Ilien asked, still holding his nose.
Gallund sat slumped in his chair, and Ilien thought his face looked suddenly pale. "It's spanstone," the wizard replied, quietly. "It's proof of a Crossing."
"A crossing?"
The room fell silent save for the hiss of the fire. Ilien had no idea what it all meant but he knew he'd get no further explanation.
Gallund stood up and waved his cane through the air. The putrid smell of the spanstone disappeared. The color returned to his face, and he turned to Thessien.
"We leave in the morning."
"Leave?" Ilien asked as he tended the logs in the fire. "Leave where?"
"Why, to Berkhelven," the wizard said. "Where else?"
Thessien fingered the chain mail near his collar. "We had better not take the road."
Ilien froze, a log poised over the flames. "Why is that?"
Thessien's eyes danced with reflected flames. "I stole across a dozen men camped near the East Road. Amber-eyed, every one of them."
Gallund's eyebrows lifted. "Wierwulvs? This far south? Ilien, fetch me the map in the hall."
The log Ilien held began to smoke. "Amber-eyed men? Wierwulvs?""
"Move, boy!" cried the wizard. "We don't have all night."
The map that hung in the hall revealed in detail the hilly land south to Clearwater River, north to the outskirt kingdom of Evernden, and east to the Midland Mountains. The western edge of the map lay blank. It was said that Giants roamed the west, so it was no mystery to Ilien why that side of the map remained unfinished. The map had been drawn by Ilien's father, who had been quite an adventurer in his youth, rumored to have even crossed the Midland Mountains, or so Ilien had been told.
Ilien returned with the map and handed the parchment to Gallund, who spread it open on his lap.
"Camped by the East Road." Gallund's cane tap danced on the floor. "Then we'll ride due north, over the hills behind us and through the outlying forests to Evernden, avoiding the road completely." He traced the route on the map with his finger. "Then from there, hmm, this map fails us there. No matter. I know the land north of Evernden well enough, and a relatively safe path through the Far Plains."
Ilien looked on with excitement. Often he had studied the map as it hung on the wall, imagining the land beyond the hills he hunted. More often still, he wondered about the world outside the edges of the map, beyond the Clearwater, past Evernden or especially over the mountains to the east, the mountains his father had once crossed. Perhaps soon he would know.
"What about the boy?" Thessien asked. "Surely we can't take him with us."
Ilien's face must have wilted to the floor for Gallund looked at him queerly. "This is not a game, boy."
"I know," said Ilien.
"You'll have to carry your own weight."
"I will."
"And keep up."
"Yes, of course!"
"And keep quiet!"
Ilien nodded.
Gallund shrugged and looked at Thessien. "I can't leave him here alone, that's for sure. And leaving him with the neighbors will only raise questions best left unasked."
Thessien stared into his mug.
Ilien stood as rigid as a sign post.
"Okay then," said the wizard. "You'll come as far as Evernden. I have a friend there who can watch over you until your mother returns from Dell. In fact, I believe he has a daughter to keep you company. When you do return home, tell your mother I was called away on important family business."
Ilien bit back his disappointment. As far as he knew, Evernden was only slightly farther away than Dell, and he had been to Dell before. And a girl? That was the last thing he wanted to keep company with. So much for his plans to see the world. He sighed and glanced at the map in Gallund's lap. Evernden. Humph! Probably doesn't even have a castle, he thought.
Gallund waved a hand at the boy. "Up to bed now. And wash your face. You look like a raccoon."
Ilien touched his right eye. It still smarted from his scrabble with the bullies, but he did as he was told. He learned long ago, there was no sense in arguing with a wizard.
"So that's him," Thessien said after Ilien had gone upstairs. His speech was thick from too much mead, and he picked up his mug for more. "Doesn't look like much to me, even for an apprentice, let alone what you claim he is."
Gallund snatched the empty mug from Thessien's hand. "Looks are deceiving," he said, and rose to go into the kitchen. "Not all appearances are what they seem, oh Brat of Ashevery. You, of all people, should know that."
"You haven't even tried to kill him yet, have you?" Thessien called after him.
>
Gallund spun around. "Shut up, you fool!" His eyes strayed to the staircase. He continued in a hushed voice. "We all deserve a life of our own choosing. Should it be any different for him?"
Thessien smiled. "Some would say yes, my friend. Some would say yes."
Upstairs, Ilien lay awake under his covers thinking about the mysterious visitor and the adventure he'd brought with him—the adventure he would miss. He imagined amber-eyed men laying wait for them upon the road, fearsome NiDemon haunting darkened caverns. And in the darkness of his room he thought of his father, too. When at last he fell asleep, he dreamed of mountains.
Chapter III
Of Witches and Wands
In the stable yard behind the house, the horses were blowing steam and stamping the cold from their shoes. Their packs bulged with food, clothing and blankets.
Ilien's pack was especially full. Gallund had made him re-pack it three times already. He really didn't understand why. He had only packed the essentials. Still, the wizard had insisted and he finally had to leave his rock collection, marbles and lucky slingshot behind. He did manage to sneak in his pet frog, thus the small shifting bulge on the side of his pack. He just hoped it kept quiet.
The stars peeped above, bright white in the pitch of night. The sun wouldn't rise for another hour, and Ilien was tired. His dreams had been full of mountains and caves and the terrible things that lurked around in them. He had hardly gotten any sleep at all.
Off to his left sat Thessien astride his tall black horse, taller even than Gallund's grey one. Ilien's brown horse was smaller than both, pony-sized really. Why Gallund wouldn't let him take old Winnie, he didn't know. Granted, the horse was old, ancient more like it, but at least on Winnie his feet wouldn't drag all the way to Evernden.
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