by Curtis, Greg
It was impossible and yet it also made sense to the wizard in him. If anyone had the ability and strength to make a building fly it was the wizards, and he remembered being told in his history lessons as an apprentice that other Guild Houses had been flown from time to time. He just hadn’t expected to actually see someone do it, ever, and the spectacle was so far beyond anything he had imagined that it left him gasping. He also wondered where they were off to though he guessed it surely wasn’t a coincidence that they were flying directly overhead.
On the other hand coincidences were very possible. He’d discovered that on their journey already. When they’d arrived at the encampment before crossing the Lochore Bridge over the chasm, Essaline had run into not one but two other teachers from the Goran academy, each with their own small group of children to guide to safety. Moreover she’d been told that several other parties were on their way via a longer route having chosen to go further west to cross the chasm at another bridge never imagining that the spiders could be defeated. A party of rangers he understood were already on their way seeking them out.
It seemed that the elves were using their fire talking to guide their people just as the wizards were using their crystals of far sight, while troops of scouts and rangers were sweeping through the forest mobilising the small towns that hadn’t yet been hit, seeking out other groups of refugees, and all were working hard to help the survivors, to get them to safety. Others had joined them too, once word of the imprisonment of the spider queen had been made known, and the soldiers had been joined by a patrol from the western ranges, while their charges, the village of Clinden and a few other stragglers, were quickly catching up to them. It wasn’t the only one.
Catford, a small mining town so he understood, having been warned by the Guild wizards who had apparently sent out messengers throughout most of Gunderland, was now barely a few hours journey behind them, bringing with them the promised extra horses for them all. In all likelihood they would be pit ponies, but beggars couldn’t complain, and if they brought food and medicine with them, maybe even supplies and some clean clothes, so much the better. And while they caught up to them other troops of both elves and humans were out riding through the Allyssian forest collecting stragglers and sending them on their way.
In only a tenday and a half the group had already increased in numbers from perhaps two hundred and fifty some to over a couple of thousand souls while at least as many more were following, and they now had enough food and horses for all as they marched south. Theirs was still an exodus, as they fled before a terrible enemy, but at least finally they had started turning a panicked rout into a more organised evacuation.
Of course since the battle with Bathsha he’d hardly seen Essaline except in the evenings as she spent all her time with her colleagues, and the children from the Academy, now a tribe of twenty, kept them busy, while he was left with the leaders to make all sorts of decisions about the march and their destination all while dozens of people waylaid him constantly seeking his magical services, and that was a sadness to him. But perhaps it was also a good thing.
Her two colleagues, Zan Reed the dryad master and Avril another elven mistress had both either witnessed or been told of what had transpired between him and Essaline the night of the battle, he wasn’t quite sure when they’d actually arrived, and they clearly knew it as inappropriate, though they said nothing. He could see the disapproval in their eyes. They had set up a watch around her, making sure that if he ever approached her again, even if only to apologise as he had several times, actually more than several times, she would not be alone. That might have been a good thing too, since he had no experience in such matters and would have likely made some more terrible mistakes even apologising, though Essaline seemed to keep accepting his pitiful words.
The children were running wild, strangely frantic and overjoyed after the battle with the queen, and each evening they kept asking him to tell them again and again how he had killed her despite the fact that he kept telling them he hadn’t, and they had seen everything anyway, and yet underneath he suspected they were all still frightened and even in a state of grief and denial. For that reason he didn’t ask the teachers to stop them, only to keep them in line and marching each day, and neither did he deny them their time. Better he thought, that they should be free to come to terms with their fear and pain on the relative safety of the march and with their teachers there to support them, then have to hold it in only to explode later.
They were lucky in that their parents lived outside of Gunder, the academy was a boarding school, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen people die, maybe even important people in their lives, teachers, friends, other children, even fellow students. And these were the lucky children. Too many others were dead, or had lost family. To add to their pain, some of them like Petras probably came from lands already conquered and couldn’t go home, and no doubt had to worry about their families and whether they still survived. Then too they had probably realised that the Academy itself was gone, and that was a home to them all. So Marjan humoured them, and told them the tale as many times as they asked each evening, while their teachers looked on. He told the same tale to the other children when they asked, pleased to be able to bring them some cheer, and their parents as well.
Tonight however, he suspected they would want a different story. Something about flying castles and the powerful wizards who called them home.
Meanwhile he got to spend more time with the captain and Ferris. Dimeter he noticed still stayed away from him and usually refused to even acknowledge his existence, but that as far as Marjan was concerned, simply made for a more peaceful journey. The two other wizards to have reached them, Grav and Belon, both journeymen who’d been caught out by the war while engaged in their travels for the Guild, sensed a little more of the magic within him, and spoke with him politely if a little distantly as they spent most of their time with those they had brought with them and let him continue to lead. They knew he was a maverick but chose not to speak of it given that he was also the most powerful among them and thus the leader, which suited Marjan well.
It still surprised him however, that with the two journeymen present, he was still in charge, though he also knew he was still the most powerful of them all by a clear mark. It spoke well of his strength and the practice he had done even while in exile, and he took a certain pride in that, misguided as it might be. Then again maybe the Guild was also one of the reasons the journeymen chose to keep their distance from him, he strongly suspected they had their own means of speaking with the Guild as he did, and that they had been given firm instructions to leave him alone. But at least the village caster was good company. Maverick or not Ferris didn’t care, and no more Marjan suspected, did he really care about his strength as a wizard. To him what mattered was the man, and that was a cheerful change from the others.
Ferris had spent an entire lifetime, nigh on a hundred years, serving just the one village, Anley’s Rest as their hedge wizard, mostly doing just the routine stuff, healing the sick, helping to raise crops and livestock, and occasionally making potions or enchanting objects, His strength was quite limited as wizards went, his arcane knowledge more so since he hadn’t been formerly trained, but his versatility was much greater, and though he would probably never have been considered for a Guild even as an apprentice, he had possibly had the better life for it.
He could regale Marjan and the others for hours with his many accounts of the life of the villagers and their endlessly humorous misfortunes, and for the most part bring out a smile even when their problems grew, and for that Marjan was grateful. That and his laugh which was a great belly rumbling guffaw that sent his long beard fluttering and made heads turn for at least a hundred paces in every direction. He might not be a powerful wizard but he was one thing far greater than that, a good man. He was also a wizard Marjan could know a little envy for. A wizard who had had a lifetime serving the people as a wizard should, out in the open, a part of the people,
not a refugee in hiding much as he was, or had been. That was what he should have been, had he not befouled his life with his arrogance and stupidity, and perhaps for that reason Marjan enjoyed his tales all the more.
Marjan wondered about the tales Ferris would one day be able to regale his village with if he was ever able to return to it after this appalling war, of flying castles and terrible spider queens, and of a magic forester with a pet goat. Already he suspected he was practicing his tall tales on his daughter and sister who were travelling elsewhere in the caravan, along with many others from his village. Thanks to a rider passing through Anley’s Rest had received warning of the impending attack and most of them had managed to flee, though they too had taken the south road and were now scattered far and wide. Still Ferris had managed to bring at least fifty of his fellow villagers with him, along with a sister and his daughter, and he knew others were also heading south along different paths. Anley’s Rest was one of the luckier villages. Too many others hadn’t been so blessed. But now at least it seemed, they had something to wonder about instead of mourning their fate. The soldiers too.
“Not to worry good soldier. That’s just the Magic Guild from Gunder finding themselves a new home.” If he sounded casual as he told the scout the facts of the matter, it was really only because he was too shocked to be anything else.
The scout said nothing in return, just stood there and stared, as so many of his fellow soldiers were also doing by then along with most of the others, a sea of arms and fingers pointing upwards in wonder, and Marjan couldn’t really blame them. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you saw every day.
Eventually the Guild caught them up and then sailed on serenely over their heads as peacefully as a cloud, and he could make out the windows and doors in all of the taller buildings, and even a few faces peering over the edge of the walls, looking down at them, not to mention the upside down mountain of dirt and rubble that was forming the Guild’s base. While he and the rest stared, awed and shocked, Dimeter actually had the presence of mind to wave, but then he probably knew most of the people in it. It had been his home until a few short tendays ago. None of those onboard waved back he noticed. Perhaps that might not have been dignified.
What they did do, or more accurately what one of them did was to open the great iron double gates that granted access to the Guild courtyard with a screeching sound that echoed across the sky, walk out and then step off the edge of the ground just beyond it, to float in mid air beside it. Then, as Marjan watched he saw the wizard and a horse beside him who had followed him out into empty air, slowly start floating down to the ground just in front of them. It would have been an impressive display of strength and control normally, but not when the entire Guild was floating by overhead like a cloud. The horse didn’t seem particularly impressed either, snorting wildly and looking all around in fear, but neither did it try to break free.
“Friends of yours?”
“Possibly an old friend perhaps captain, but more likely one of Dimeter’s masters, here to take charge and bring the people to safety. Regardless of whoever he is, he will have come to help and we should greet him.” Actually Marjan didn’t really want to meet whoever this new wizard was, after all he was a maverick and this new master wizard would know that, but he knew it would be expected, and more importantly that the captain needed to. Whoever he was, the master as the most powerful wizard among them would be taking control of the exodus, leaving him redundant and the captain with a new commander.
Still, even if Marjan was being relieved of his duties, and he wasn’t sure whether that was something to be happy about or not, the master would surely have news of the war, and he desperately wanted to hear that. Especially when he knew that if the wizards were leaving the city then Gunder itself must have finally fallen. Besides, he had questions about the enemy that needed to be answered, and the new arrival would hopefully have some of those answers along with a plan for them to follow.
He nudged Willow in the side and instantly had her trotting towards where he thought the wizard would alight on top of a small hill just ahead of them, the captain right beside him. Dimeter was already well ahead of them both, his horse galloping madly as he urged him on obviously excited by their new arrival, while Ferris and the two journeymen were following him at a more considered pace.
Perhaps five minutes later they reached the crest of a small grassy hill and formed a welcoming committee just as the wizard landed as gently as a leaf not twenty feet in front of them, much to the relief of his horse.
He was an older man as Marjan would have expected from a wizard with such self control and strength, and to normal eyes he would have appeared fifty or so. But such an appearance meant little in the world of wizardry and he could be anywhere from fifty to a hundred and fifty or more. He had a stern countenance, probably from scowling too much at his students, and it only emphasised the look of pain that seemed a permanent part of his face, as if he’d just eaten a particularly sour lemon. The close-cropped beard and brutally short mat of greying hair didn’t help make him seem any friendlier. Neither did the strange puffed red leather outfit he was wearing. It was some sort of magical armour and Marjan could feel the way it twisted at his eyes and knew it would be much more difficult again for an enemy to face, for that was whom the spells were actually intended. It was well spelled and powerful, but it still looked outlandish at best. But then wizards cared little about such things, or at least masters didn’t, and from the powerful magic swirling around him Marjan knew he was a master.
Marjan didn’t recognise him, but that meant little. He had been gone from the Guild for a full decade and in that time many masters could have come and gone. They tended to travel between the different Guild houses and realms as their whims dictated. Dimeter though recognised him.
“Master Silas.” He bowed low to him as was expected of an apprentice, as did Grav and Belon, while the captain and Ferris did likewise, expected or not. Marjan, perhaps a little rudely, did not, choosing merely to nod. But then he wasn’t expected to bow. As a maverick or renegade the Guild no longer recognised him and he in turn was not expected to recognise them. Under normal circumstances they weren’t even expected to meet, and if they ran across one another by accident, protocol dictated that they should have ignored each other. This was an unusual situation perhaps, but still he figured, the rules applied.
“Dimeter, your robe is in a shocking state, and what has happened to your hair?” Marjan tried not to laugh as he heard him berate his student as he too had once been berated and ended up making small choking noises that fooled no one. At least the journeymen managed to look away politely as they too coughed to cover their amusement. The masters were always picky about such things as appearance and dress in their students, even when they didn’t worry about such things themselves. His friends had always claimed that it gave them something to complain about, quietly of course, and it reminded him of his own days in the Guild, happier times. Of course Dimeter wasn’t foolish enough to answer back, and instead he just nodded and mumbled something of an apology, never daring to comment on his masters foppish leather armour.
“Grav, Belon, you have both done well in these difficult times and your masters have both asked me to pass on their pleasure at your good work.” The two journeymen nodded their thanks knowing that nothing more was expected or required of them, but surely pleased by the praise, and Marjan had to admit to a tiny twinge of envy as he watched. Once, had he not been so stupid and reckless, that would have been him, and he had wanted that with all his heart.
“Friend Ferris, I am glad you were there to help my wayward apprentice. I do hope he wasn’t too much trouble.” Of course Marjan realised, he wasn’t the only one being demoted by the master’s arrival. Ferris was suddenly being accorded the status of only a friend, his magic being considered too minor to be of any importance. But the hedge wizard had surely also expected that and he nodded to the master, probably too happy to be relieved of his burdens t
o be offended. Besides at least he was named a friend, and it was always better to be a friend then an enemy.
“Captain. You have done an excellent job in keeping all of these people together and moving forwards through difficult times. You are to be commended.” The captain reddened a little but Marjan thought the master had the right of it. The captain had done a good job under difficult circumstances, a job that he could not have done despite being the ranking wizard. But he had little time to wonder any more about that as the master turned his attention to him, last and with good reason.
“Marjan. Peace be with you.” It was a standard greeting, the sort of thing one wizard might say when meeting another wizard from a rival Guild by chance, and a clear indication that he had nothing to say to him and wanted to hear nothing in return. But then that was what he’d expected and better than the alternatives.