Maverick

by Curtis, Greg

  Always he’d thought of elven villages as small affairs, a few hundred people perhaps, a hundred homes at most, but here was the evidence that showed his imaginings false. Evensong might have been described to him as a village, but looking at it, letting his eyes wander slowly from tree to tree, he knew it was far more than that. At the least it was a large town, and depending on how far back into the forest behind the glade the village extended, it could actually have been a city.

  There were structures on the ground as well, stables, and grain silos and sheds no doubt filled with farming equipment, and a good half of the glade was converted into fields filled with wheat and vegetables, and orchards of fruit and nut trees, while the other half had grazing animals roaming freely, sheep and goats, and here and there, netted enclosures filled with chickens and ducks. Apparently even the elves had realised not everything could come from trees, and yet they’d gone a long way towards making them their food stores as well, and he could see plenty of fruit trees in great earthenware pots on the platforms. Trees growing on trees. There was an irony in that.

  The houses themselves were harder to spot, but as they neared the village and his eyes began to spot the irregularities, he slowly began to make them out. For the most part they were mainly visible as lumps on the sides of the tree trunks, distinguishable only from the trees themselves by the windows and doors cut into them, and yet once he spotted a few of them, he could suddenly see them everywhere. Many, many hundreds of houses nestled within the shelter of the great trees.

  People were everywhere too, and he could see endless white robed elves going about their daily business, walking freely fifty and a hundred feet up in the air as if it was nothing. But of course it was for them, and as they got closer he realised that some of them, children he guessed from their smaller stature, were actually running. Running on narrow little platforms and bridges, suspended over a hundred feet in the air. Of course someone had thought of the danger and underneath each of the walkways he could make out nets. Falling on to them might not be pleasant, but it wouldn’t be the death sentence it would be if they hit the ground instead.

  Soon after spotting the people he forgot to wonder about the village as he realised that they were heading directly for the base of one of the large trees at the town’s heart, and that they were expected. A group of elves, and even without seeing them he would have guessed they were elders, was waiting for them. But then the rangers had been fire talking each evening, never realising that he could hear much of what they said, for some reason Essaline hadn’t told them of his ability, perhaps thinking it might cause dissension, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise to find that they were expected. It did however, send his heart fluttering a little.

  As they approached he decided that the elders weren’t exactly what he’d expected, though in truth he hadn’t really known what to expect. A lot of them were old at least, and many of them had hair that had moved on from golden and light brown to white, while others still had the sun glowing in theirs. That could make some of them two or even three centuries old as far as he knew, but none of them seemed infirm with it.

  They were wearing their formal robes, thick homespun white cotton with heavy gold brocade all around the collars that spoke of their families and status, and that bothered him. As he understood it they only wore their formal robes when they were about to act in an official capacity, the rest of the time they wore the same homespun cotton wraparound jackets and leggings as all others. He only hoped that they hadn’t dressed for him.

  They had magic as well, not all of them, but about half, and it was strong natural magic that flowed through them, shaping them, shaping the world around them, tying them all together as one. But more than that he could feel even with his limited ability, the way that all of them, whether gifted with magic or not, seemed to be a part of the land around them as it too was a part of them. These were truly people of the land, and that understanding left him in awe. Wizards for the most part didn’t consider themselves a part of the world. Instead they believed themselves above such considerations, and the only law that they respected, was Guild Law. In short the laws decided by others like themselves. Maybe that was a part of what made them so powerful, but seeing the elders in front of him, Marjan couldn’t help but feel that they had lost something in the deal as well. Something that perhaps he had rediscovered in his years in the forest.

  As he’d expected they carried staves, just as had been written about in his books, but while they might aid them in walking, that wasn’t their true nature. They were repositories of magic, natural and elemental, and powerful weapons if they were needed, though in this place so filled with life and peace, he doubted that happened very often. Most of them were simple tree branches that had grown straight and tall, though most had some form of inlay as well, and most of them also had enchantments upon them, actually woven into them somehow, he could feel the magic swirling around them, some of it elemental like his own, most of it simply the magic of life, but all of it, powerful.

  The thing that struck him as most strange however, was the fact that they were waiting for them. It seemed wrong somehow. In one of the human realms had they been expected official guests, even important ones, not that he ever had been or would be such a person, a troop of soldiers, an honour guard would have gone out and greeted him, and escorted them to the court in the main castle, here the elders were all patiently waiting for them, outside on the grass. There was something simply wrong in that, even if they didn’t have castles and courts, and yet it was also somehow welcoming.

  What troubled him more however, was that he was almost certain that the elders were waiting for him. They weren’t there for the rangers or the children, though he could see a few younger elves waiting patiently beside them, many with baskets of food and drink for the children, and some others who could only be wives and husbands, impatiently waiting for their loved ones. But the elders they were there for him, for the renegade wizard. He sensed that, he could feel their attention focused on him, and it worried him. Maybe it was just that he had only once before been in such a situation, and that had been before his trial, but still it unnerved him.

  Of course he was certain that they wanted to talk to him about what he’d seen, what he’d done, Essaline had asked him to speak to them of that much, and even suggested to him that he could show them his distance speaking device and let them speak with the guild themselves. But it was more than that. He had the feeling it was him who was the object of their attention, not what he could tell them nor what he could do for them. He felt rather more like a prize bull being sent off to the markets to be examined by every farmer in the town than a guest.

  Why? What made him so important? And why he wondered when he looked across at her, was Essaline smiling so? Even in profile he could see the hint of satisfaction curling her lips up at the ends. She had some sort of plan in mind and he wasn’t completely sure he liked it.

  Still there was nothing to be done, and he took a deep calming breath as they continued trotting the last few hundred paces towards them before dismounting with the rest, brushing some of the worst of the dirt off his leathers, over a month in the forests and on the trails had left him far less presentable than even most tramps, and following Essaline and the captain the last few steps. He was careful though to let the two of them lead the way and go through the formalities before him, not wanting to make a mistake and insult an elder. He especially didn’t want to feel the butt of the captain’s spear strike him again in the jaw, the bruises from the first time were still coming out nearly a tenday later and he rubbed at it continually, surprised to still have all his teeth. On the other hand the captain was looking tired, possible due to having been woken most of the last ten nights, with burrs in his bed roll, something that Marjan would never admit to doing though he was sure the Captain suspected.

  Captain Saul he was slowly discovering, might be a stickler for the rules and protocol, and someone who clearly didn’t trust him
, but he wasn’t quite the hide bound officious officer he had first seemed. Though it had surely rankled with him that he had to do it, and he would never apologise, at one point he had almost seemed regretful of his actions, probably after Essaline had told him off in her so very circuitous and polite way, and he had suggested that he speak with their healer.

  That hadn’t stopped Marjan filling his bedroll with magic burrs every night when he rubbed at his aching jaw, but maybe they hadn’t been so numerous or annoying after that.

  Harvas hadn’t said anything either, though Marjan was sure he suspected. He was a druid after all. But he had turned out to be a welcome companion, and they had spent much of the last tenday in the saddle, discussing healing magic and comparing recipes. At night they’d even practiced sending their minds out among the woodland creatures together, helping each other with the creatures they were less experienced with.

  The druid was a powerful mage as Marjan had come to realise, but his true strengths were in summoning animals to his aid and sometimes calling the weather as he needed, and despite being perhaps fifty years older than him, they were quite evenly matched in their healing magic and thought casting. But the druid had one skill more advanced than Marjan had appreciated at first, he could send his senses into the trees and the ground itself, helping them to grow strong and true, and to heal from injuries more quickly. That was almost dryadic in nature, and far beyond Marjan’s abilities, and also though he hated to admit it, a useful skill to have.

  Ferris had a little of the dryad gift as well. He could raise crops faster and healthier than could farmers without the gift, and in a town with many mouths to feed that was a blessing. He suspected that between his experience of life as a village spellcaster and his endless good humour and amusing anecdotes, the hedge wizard would be very welcome among the elves of Evensong, even though he was no member of the Guild. Maybe there was a lesson in that. Ferris was the wizard the elves would want, even if they needed Guild trained warspells.

  “So you are Marjan.” Elder Lorelli, the leader of the council as he understood from the introductions, and probably the oldest of them, approached him slowly and started looking him up and down as if he was livestock for sale at the market, and though it could be considered rude, Marjan knew he had to take it. The last thing he could afford was to upset this woman. With her long grey hair hanging freely to her waist and supporting her posture with her staff, she was ancient, possibly if he knew anything of elves and their lives, as much as three hundred years old, and her magic was weak, but her green eyes spoke of a sharp mind and little tolerance for the unruly ways of the young.

  “Yes elder.” He bowed low to her, whether it was expected or not, thinking that politeness would be the best option.

  “Young Essaline has told us much of you, of your battle with the spider queen, and with the enemy. She says you are a powerful wizard.” The elder though obviously didn’t believe it, possibly because no Guild Master would ever look as bedraggled and messy as he did. Though it was also possibly because of his youth.

  “No elder. I was Guild trained before I was expelled and I was a good student, but I am no master. Cleverness and planning, not mine, and a little luck won those battles. And even with them it took every fibre of my magic to win through.”

  “Planning, luck, cleverness and resolve, good qualities in a man, be he a soldier or a wizard. Be he even a member of the Council.” She was studying him intently, her green eyes seeming to find his every nook and cranny as she weighed him up and surely would find him wanting.

  “You are also brave and a saviour of these poor children. A debt is owed, and for this we should welcome you to our home and hearth.” Marjan almost liked the first part of what she said, until she added the last, and that he hated.

  “Please no debt is owed elder. I acted as I did because it is my duty as a wizard, whether a member of the Guild or not, and as a man. And I ask nothing of you, no welcome at all. I am a maverick, I do not deny this truth, and I do not ask for welcome among your people. I will not stay to cause dissension, and I will leave your lands in peace. This is my word.” It was and more than that, it seemed to be his future as well, though he discovered within himself a feeling of regret at the thought of leaving. Essaline he suspected felt the same as he watched her out of the corner of his eye open her mouth to protest, before she thought the better of it. Elder Lorelli he gathered, was the one who held the true power here, and Essaline knew it. Everyone else did too, which explained the silence all around, even from the people watching the meeting from the balconies above.

  “Did I say you would cause dissension child?” The elder stared at him as though he’d said something to cause offence, and Marjan all but wilted before her.

  “No elder. My apologies for my foolish tongue.” It was all he could say, even as he wondered how she’d managed to make him look like the guilty party. He’d spoken only the truth.

  “Ahh, the foolish tongue so often found among the young. Harvas mentioned that, and that you are not familiar with our ways.”

  “This is true elder. I have studied little of your people and your customs, and I cannot speak your language. I have also lived alone for a very long time and this has surely not helped. I have tried not to give offence, but I may have regardless, and for this I apologise.” It was all he could say and also what he needed to say.

  “Then some time among our people will be of benefit to you. You may relearn your lessons in our ways, and perhaps those of simply living with others. And then perhaps in return you could assist us to speak with the elder wizards as we have need.” She seemed extremely sure of herself and Marjan even then knew enough not to defy her. Whether she was a wizard or not, this lady held the power, and strangely the opportunity as well. Whatever it was that had harmed and killed so many, it had done him a service as well, bringing him once more the chance simply to be with others, to speak freely and not have to hide his shame. He did not want to lose that.

  “I would be honoured to assist you however I can elder.”

  ****************

  Chapter Seven.

  “Your house is coming along well.” Essaline surprised him as she often did, having crept up behind him and spoken without warning and he jumped as he had too many times before. But he didn’t mind. It was nice to have visitors, and especially her, even if he did have to remember to speak formally whenever she was around. It was a nuisance, and a disappointment after all they had been through before they had met up with the rangers, but a necessity. You never knew who might be within earshot.

  Once more he noticed as he turned to face her, how the health had returned to her completely, once the elven healers had started working on her wounds. Now the scars were all but invisible, and though his technique with the stitches had been described as less than perfect, they had admitted to him privately that they were still pleased with his basic wound care, and were endeavouring to teach him a little more of their skill which was always welcome. He was pleased too when he saw the way his former patient moved so freely and happily, and perhaps a little prideful.

  Of course it also helped that since she had returned to her people she had thrown away the remnants of her tattered old cotton dress and his bush shirt, and now wandered around the town in some far newer and prettier robes, several with surprisingly deep necklines which couldn’t help but draw his eyes every time she passed him by. Once he had thought her like all elves, too thin, but now he knew her for the perfectly proportioned woman she was. Meanwhile her hair was clean and perfectly combed so that it shone in the sunlight, a golden cascade of glory, and often enough there were wildflowers hanging from it, transforming her into a beacon of living colour.

  Then too she had been freed from the worry of protecting the children. Four of them had gone home to their families, and the other three, Petras, Dorian and Sassa were living in her family home unable to be safely returned, but still so he understood, happy and safe. And if they were safe and happy and her
duty was done, then she was happy, and it showed. Gone were the worried frowns, the doubts and the hint of fear creeping around the corner of her eyes. Now he understood, she spent her days either in the sacred grove, worshipping the Goddess, or teaching in the village school, and her evenings with her family in peaceful reflection and contentment, and that was as it should be.

  If she had been beautiful before it was as though the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds whenever he saw her, and especially when she smiled which she did a lot lately.