by A. Giannetti
“How is it that you know about them if no one else does?” asked Elerian inquisitively.
“One day I will show you how I gained my knowledge,” said Tullius with a mysterious smile, “but for now it is enough for you to know that the Ondredon are real and that you must avoid them.”
“How can I avoid them if they look just like trees?” asked Elerian in a puzzled voice.
“The best way is to stay out of the Abercius, for they do not normally leave its boundaries,” replied Tullius at once.
“I wish that I could meet one, even if they are dangerous,” said Elerian, wondering what it must be like to see a tree actually walking.
“Perhaps you will when you are older,” said Tullius with a half smile, but he did not say any more about the Ondredon after that. Instead, he began to move at a faster pace, both because the afternoon was waning and to forestall any more questions from Elerian. His sharp eyes still took in all that went on around him, however. Abruptly, he stopped short and silently directed Elerian’s attention with his right hand to a low hanging limb about thirty feet ahead of them.
Elerian’s keen eyes immediately picked out the mottled shape of a large leopard flattened out on the limb, about fifteen feet above the ground. He was surprised to see the spotted hunter, for leopards usually preferred to hunt after dark. “This beast must be unusually hungry to venture out during the day,” he thought to himself. The sight of the leopard put Elerian on his guard, but he was more curious than anything else to see how Tullius dealt with the cat.
The leopard seemed to sense that its ambush was exposed, for it abruptly stood up and leaped lightly to the ground. Heavier than a grown man and enormously powerful, it began to advance stealthily toward them on large, padded paws, a hungry light in its green eyes. Elerian prepared to run, but without any sense of panic or haste, Tullius raised his staff and said, “Congelo,” in a commanding voice.
The strange ability that occasionally allowed Elerian to see spells suddenly became active. He saw a small golden orb of light speed away from the end of Tullius’s staff. It struck the leopard, and the great cat was instantly covered with a golden film of light. To Elerian’s amazement, it immediately froze in its tracks.
Tullius walked up to the leopard, completely unconcerned. Elerian, whose sight had returned to normal, followed a little more warily at the mage’s heels. With wide eyes, he studied the leopard, fascinated by the effects of the spell Tullius had cast. A snarl was frozen on the cat’s face, exposing its worn, yellowed canines. From the age and condition of its teeth, the tip had broken away from the left hand fang; Elerian knew this was an old animal, driven by hunger to hunt during the day. He saw now that underneath the thick pelt, its sides were thin and its belly slack. He was startled to see that its chest was still moving slightly as it continued to breathe.
“Will the leopard remain frozen until it dies?” he asked Tullius.
“Of course not,” said the mage, obviously disapproving of the notion. “That would not be a proper use of magic although, sadly, such things have been done before by unscrupulous mages. In hunting us, the leopard was only attempting to satisfy his hunger. I bear him no ill will for that, but since I do not care to become his next meal, I froze him with a spell that will wear off in a few moments. If we keep walking, we will be out of his sight when he can finally move again. He cannot track us by scent, so we can continue our walk in perfect safety.”
Tullius began walking away from the leopard, and Elerian followed him with many a backward look at the motionless cat which was now facing away from him. As the trees began to close in around them, partially obscuring his vision, he suddenly saw the leopard shake itself and stretch. With a lithe move, it spun around, and its hungry green eyes met Elerian’s. Some flaw in Tullius’s spell had released the beast too soon.
“Run Tullius,” shouted Elerian in warning.
The mage threw a startled look over his shoulder, and wildly cast a second spell at the leopard which was now bounding toward them in great leaps, seemingly determined not to let a fine meal escape so easily. Elerian briefly saw the small golden orb which flew from the end of Tullius’s staff. It missed the leopard and harmlessly struck the ground to one side of it.
“You missed,” shouted Elerian, and as there was not enough time to attempt a second spell, Tullius turned and sprinted away with Elerian at his heels. Elerian cast a look over his left shoulder, and at once began to fear for Tullius’s safety. The leopard was still bounding toward them and would overtake them in a moment. Elerian knew he could increase his own speed and easily outrun it, but Tullius, despite the surprising fleetness he was displaying, was as good as caught.
Without a second thought, Elerian drew his knife and turned to face the advancing leopard. Its hungry, green eyes locked on his as it drew within striking distance. Determined to give Tullius time to escape, Elerian held his ground, even though he knew the leopard would make short work of him. Then, in the final moments before the leopard leaped on him, something stirred inside him that he had not felt for years. Before his eyes, a wave of golden light spilled out of the silver ring he had worn on his left hand for so long that he had forgotten it. On the verge of making the final leap which would bring Elerian under its claws, the leopard come to a sudden, panicked stop, staring at Elerian with startled green eyes. In place of Elerian’s small, determined form, an enormous tawny shape had sprung up before the leopard’s unbelieving eyes. Elerian’s random power had given him the illusion of a lion, the leopard’s deadliest enemy.
As the leopard hesitated, Elerian looked down at himself. The golden glow vanished, revealing his new shape to his eyes. Without stopping to question what had happened, Elerian shouted at the leopard, hoping to frighten it even more and was startled when the shout came out as a bass roar that shook the ground and made the leaves overhead tremble. It was all too much for the leopard. He had no understanding of magic and could not comprehend where his tasty supper had vanished to or where this terrifying monster with fangs the size of small knives had suddenly sprung from. Too old to engage in a fight that he had no hope of winning, he promptly turned tail and ran lest the great beast that had suddenly appeared make a meal of him instead.
Tullius heard the same roar as the leopard and suddenly realized, to his dismay, that Elerian was no longer by his side. Disregarding his own safety, he immediately slid to a stop and turned to search for the boy. Elerian turned to face him, and the old mage’s eyes abruptly widened as he saw the same terrifying illusion which had frightened the leopard. With a trembling hand, Tullius raised his staff to cast another immobility spell.
Delighted with the effect his appearance on Tullius, Elerian was unable to resist another roar, despite the threat of being frozen by a spell. The terrifying sound which issued from the illusion caused Tullius’s heart to miss a beat, and the spell he was about to utter was driven clean out of his mind in the horror of the moment. As he stood paralyzed, unable to speak or run, the fearsome beast before him vanished, and only Elerian remained in its place, his eyes bright as diamonds from mischief and suppressed laughter.
“You young scamp!” shouted Tullius when he could speak again. He was so angry for a moment that his beard stuck straight out from his chin and quivered with rage. Then, like a dark storm cloud that briefly obscures the face of the sun, his anger suddenly passed. “He did save your life even if he almost frightened you to death,” he thought to himself resignedly.
“When did you learn that trick, you young rogue?” he asked Elerian.
“It just happened,” said Elerian, holding the hand wearing his ring behind his back. “When the leopard sprang at me, I suddenly felt something stir inside me. I realized then that I had taken on the appearance of a lion, and the next moment, the leopard ran away as fast as ever it could.” Elerian left out the part about the golden light that had sprung from his ring, for he had a sudden notion that Tullius might not approve of him having it.
“Somehow you succe
eded in casting an illusion spell,” said Tullius thoughtfully. Secretly, he was quite pleased that Elerian had finally demonstrated that he still possessed magical powers. “I must say, though, that you took a year off my life when I turned and saw you in that awful shape.”
“The leopard was badly frightened too,” said Elerian innocently. “I am sure he is still running.”
“I did not say I was frightened,” said Tullius, sternly correcting his small charge. “I was merely startled. It is not every day that one sees a lion in the forest.” Without another word, he turned and started walking in dignified silence. Behind Tullius’s back, Elerian smiled and shook with silent laughter, as he recalled Tullius’s reaction to his illusion. As he followed Tullius, Elerian began to speculate on the endless possibilities for mischief that his ring presented if he could make it work again.
THE MUTARE
Despite his high hopes for performing more magic with his ring, Elerian soon discovered, to his great disappointment, that he was unable to use it again after the encounter with the leopard. All his attempts to perform magic without it also failed. He voiced his frustration to Tullius, but the old mage was able to offer him little in the way of comfort.
“You must be patient,” he advised. “Your powers will continue to develop at their own pace no matter how much you wish to hurry them along. In the meantime, I would avoid trying to perform any more magic if I were you. The practice of magic can be highly dangerous for those who are not trained in it.”
Reluctantly, since he had no other choice, Elerian took Tullius’s advice and turned his attention to other things. A year passed quietly, and then, unexpectedly, Tullius stopped by early one morning as Elerian and Balbus were feeding the animals in the barn. A visit from the mage was a rare occurrence, and Elerian watched with great interest as Tullius drew Balbus aside. He continued his chores, but his keen ears strained to hear the quiet conversation between the two men.
“Something is wrong,” said Tullius softly, unaware that Elerian could hear his every word in spite of the distance between them. “Several woodcutters have disappeared without a trace in the last few weeks. I came to warn you to stay out of the forest and to be on your guard.”
Balbus felt a stab of concern at the unpleasant news. Men disappeared in the forest every year, but usually, not so many in such a short period of time. The last time this many men had vanished, they were taken by Goblins in their mantraps.
“Do you think they have returned?” Balbus asked Tullius uneasily, they, of course, referring to the Goblins. “It has been almost eight years now since we saw the last of them. I had begun to hope the boy was finally out of danger.”
“I am not sure who or what is responsible for the disappearances,” replied Tullius. “I simply want you to be on your guard until we find out whether there are Goblins in the forest again.”
At the mention of Goblins, Elerian nearly dropped the bag of feed he was spreading for the chickens. At last, it seemed that he might learn something about the mysterious enemies Balbus was always warning him about. Straining his ears as he spread the feed, he continued to listen as Tullius spoke.
“If you are willing, I thought we might search the forest today. I would especially like to visit the cave in the hills which the Goblins used as a hiding place last time.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” asked Balbus as he recalled in vivid detail their disastrous attempt to rescue Julian’s children from the Goblins.
“It is daytime and we will not approach the ravine directly,” said Tullius reassuringly. “We should be safe enough if we are careful and quiet. We are only going out to see what we can see. If there is fighting to be done, we can come back later in greater strength.”
“I will get my things then,” said Balbus reluctantly. He did not share Tullius’s confidence and would have felt more comfortable leading a large group of armed men into the forest. Balbus stole a quick glance at Elerian, who was now occupied with searching the barn for the eggs laid by the chickens since yesterday. “I will have to make sure that he does not follow us again,” he thought to himself. Leaving Tullius to wait in the barn, Balbus went into the house to retrieve his knife and walking stick.
After Balbus left, Elerian industriously continued to gather eggs, but his mind was racing as he reflected on the conversation he had overheard. He had not thought about Goblins since the rescue of Julian’s children years ago. “Why would Goblins be interested in me?” he wondered to himself. “It must have something to do with my parents,” he decided at last, and he was filled with a sudden desire to learn more.
By then, Balbus had returned to the barn with his staff in his right hand and his knife hanging from his belt. “I must go somewhere with Tullius,” he said to Elerian. His voice was calm enough, but Elerian could see the worry in his brown eyes. “You are not to leave the farm for any reason,” he said sternly, giving Elerian an uncharacteristically severe look.
Elerian did his best to look obedient, but he neither nodded his head nor made any answer, for he had no intention of remaining on the farm. He planned to follow Tullius and Balbus as soon as they were out of sight. As if guessing his thoughts, Tullius suddenly spoke.
“You are to do as Balbus says,” he said sternly, staring hard at Elerian as if searching for any signs of disobedience. “I will never take on an apprentice who cannot follow instructions.”
The announcement that Tullius was considering taking him on as an apprentice sent a wave of excitement through Elerian. “I will wait here until you and Balbus return,” he said reluctantly, for he knew Tullius meant what he said. He dared not disobey if he wished to have any hope of becoming a mage someday. Both frustrated and disappointed, he watched from the barn door as Tullius and Balbus set off for the forest. Carbo sat by Elerian’s side, sharing in his disappointment at being left behind. Balbus had decided it too risky to take the dog, lest he give them away with a bark or a growl at some dangerous moment.
Balbus continued to have second thoughts as they passed through the hedge gate and entered the forest. “We really should not go alone,” he said to Tullius. “Remember what happened the last time we came face to face with Goblins.”
“More men will make more noise,” said Tullius sharply, for the memory of their capture by the Goblins still irritated him. “The quieter we are, the more we will see, and you may be certain that this time I shall be on the lookout for traps.”
Somehow, Balbus was not reassured, but he followed quietly after Tullius without further argument, both of them keeping a careful watch for anything out of the ordinary. It took them some time to reach the ravine where the cave was located, for Tullius made many side excursions to places where Goblins were likely to pass by if they were in the area. Other than a few indistinct tracks from some large creature, most likely a bear, they saw nothing unusual, and both men began to feel more at ease.
“If we find nothing at the cave, we may as well return home,” whispered Tullius as they neared the ravine. “It is growing late, and there does not seem to be any creature out of the ordinary in the forest.” In single file, he and Balbus approached the ravine from the side, for it was Tullius’s intention to look down into the ravine rather than to enter it. If there was any sign the cave was being used, he planned to retreat at once and to go back for reinforcements as he had promised Balbus.
As quietly as possible, the two men crept on hands and knees to the stony lip of the ravine, and looked down between the tree trunks. They could just make out the dark entrance to the cave in the dim light that filled the ravine. Relief flooded through them, for there were no signs to indicate that it was occupied. There was no blanket over the cave entrance and no sight or smell of any wood smoke that would indicate a fire.
“It does not appear that the Goblins have returned,” said Tullius, whispering out of habit. At that moment, an errant breeze brought a hint of a rank, animal like odor to their noses from the depths of the ravine.
“What is
that smell?” asked Balbus nervously in a whisper. “I did not smell anything like that when the Goblins were here.”
Tullius at once thought of the tracks they had found earlier. “Perhaps a bear has come out of the Abercius and has taken up residence in the cave,” he whispered back. “A large bear could have taken the missing men.”
“No bear ever smelled like that,” whispered Balbus wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Let us leave while we can and return with men and dogs in the morning. If there is something in the cave that has been killing men, we will soon put an end to it.”
Tullius did not reply. Instead, he turned to Balbus with a finger over his lips, indicating that they should be silent. Balbus heard the mage say, “Tego uter,” in a whisper that was barely audible. Scarcely a moment later, two strange creatures appeared out of the gloom under the trees, creeping slowly and silently up the side of the ravine toward Balbus and Tullius. They seemed a curious mix of animal and human to Balbus, for at times, they walked on their short, thick hind legs like men, but at other times, they dropped to all fours, supporting themselves with their long, heavily muscled arms and the knuckles of their powerful hands. Their faces were vaguely human, but their brows were low, and their noses were flattened with wide, flaring nostrils. Massive jaws projected slightly from their faces, and they had pointed, hairy ears that poked out through the long, coarse black hair that covered their heads and the parts of their bodies not concealed by the tattered remnants of tunics and pants. Their hairy feet were bare, and they looked to be unarmed except for the long, wicked looking knives that were thrust through their leather belts. The noisome smell that had troubled Balbus and Tullius earlier became stronger as the creatures drew nearer.