The Foundling (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  The mutare slowed their first panic-stricken rush and began to debate between the two of them whether they should return to the gully and attack the men through the back entrance of the cave. Fagus kept casting nervous glances over his shoulder while talking to Gratus. A horrified look suddenly spread over his face when he saw Tullius, armed with a gleaming staff, running toward him through the trees.

  Fagus had no way of knowing that what he saw was Elerian disguised by an illusion. With a choked cry of fear, he bolted again, leaving Gratus behind. Pleased with Fagus’s reaction, Elerian pointed his stick at Gratus as the second mutare turned to see what had frightened his companion. The mutare froze in panic when he, too, saw the illusion of Tullius with his stick raised up to cast a spell. As Gratus spun around to flee, Elerian felt something flow through his left arm, and he cried out in delight when a golden orb of light unexpectedly shot from the end of his stick. His aim was no better than Tullius’s, however, and he missed Gratus entirely, striking a tree trunk to the left of the mutare. There was a tremendous crack, which Elerian found most satisfactory, and a gaping hole appeared in the tree’s trunk as a shower of long, jagged splinters leaped into the air, some of them striking Gratus in the back and hindquarters.

  Roaring in pain, all thoughts of returning to the gully wiped from his mind by fear, Gratus dropped to all fours, traveling over the ground in long bounds that quickly brought him even with the fleeing Fagus. The two mutare were now traveling at a speed which Elerian would not have believed them capable of a moment before. Despite his best efforts, they began to pull away from him, but not before he caused another explosion that sprayed them with more splinters. When they finally disappeared from Elerian’s sight, he thought they bore a satisfying resemblance to a pair of hedgehogs from all the splinters embedded into their tough hides.

  Panting and disappointed, Elerian finally stopped when the mutare vanished into the trees ahead of him, running straight east. “I wish I were faster,” he thought to himself, banging his stick against the ground in frustration. “First the Goblins escaped me, and now these creatures.” As Elerian debated what to do next, the golden glow of his illusion vanished, and for the first time, he saw that he had taken on the form of Tullius. A moment later, the illusion ended as his power became dormant once more, and Elerian saw himself in his own form. Forgetting his disappointment at letting the mutare escape, Elerian suddenly felt quite pleased with himself again. In one night, he had managed to change his shape, rescue Balbus and Tullius, cast an illusion, and launch some of the same deadly spells as Tullius had. He suddenly felt very much like a mage, and in high spirits, he set out for the place where he had lost his clothes. His unfailing sense of direction brought him there directly. After retrieving his clothes, he turned his steps toward the cave where he had left Balbus and Tullius. As he stepped lightly along in high spirits, Elerian thought about his errant power.

  “It would seem that only excitement or danger brings my power under my control,” he thought to himself as he cast his mind back to the times when it had manifested itself. “Somehow my ring is also involved,” he decided, recalling the golden light that spilled from the ring when his magical power became active. He began to consider different ways in which he might bring the ring and his power under his control, but as he neared the edge of the ravine, Elerian’s thoughts turned away from magic. His steps slowed as he began to think about what Tullius and Balbus might have to say to him. They were sure to be angry with him for running off after the mutare. Tullius would be even more upset if he found out that Elerian had disregarded his warning to avoid using magic.

  “What if Tullius decides not to train me as he threatened?” Elerian asked himself uneasily. He hesitated, standing motionless at the lip of the ravine. At that moment, he would have preferred to face the mutare again rather than enter the cave where Tullius and Balbus were sure to be waiting for him. Suddenly, a most delectable scent tickled his nose, wafting out of the depths of the gully and setting his mouth to watering, for he had been too upset to prepare any dinner for himself after Balbus and Tullius left him alone on the farm. Through the trees, he saw the shifting light of a fire playing across the cave entrance.

  Elerian suddenly realized that he was starved. He stole silently down the side of the ravine, following the tantalizing odor to the entrance of the cave. Taking care not to expose more than part of his face and one gleaming eye, he peered into the cave and saw a cheerful, crackling fire burning in its center. Seated on small boulders, set on opposite sides of the fire, were Balbus and Tullius. The red and yellow flames played over them, illuminating their faces and casting shifting shadows on the cave walls behind them. They were passing a wineskin, now much depleted, back and forth between the two of them. It must have been among the spoils the mutare had left behind in the cave. The young pig dropped by Gratus was roasting over the fire, spitted on a green branch that resisted the heat of the flames. This was the source of the enticing smell that had tickled Elerian’s nose and appetite.

  Elerian paused in the darkness outside the cave entrance to listen for a moment, for the two men were talking. “I still say we should search for him,” Balbus was insisting as he turned his makeshift spit.

  “And I say we should wait here,” said Tullius. “Neither one of us is woodsman enough to track the lad in the dark, even with the aid of your staff, if we could find it first in the dark. We are more likely to lose ourselves than to help him. Better to wait here until morning in case he comes back on his own. If he has not returned by then, we will begin our search for him in the daylight.”

  “If he does return, I don’t know if I want to hug him for saving us or thrash him for disobeying me and then running off,” said Balbus in a frustrated voice.

  “I will be glad to assist you in any thrashing you might decide to administer,” said Tullius immediately. “It would do the boy’s character a world of good.”

  “I prefer the hug if I have a choice,” said Elerian, stepping suddenly into the light of the fire. The two men started to see Elerian abruptly appear fully clothed in the cave entrance, but a moment later, they both rushed up to see if he was all right. Despite Balbus’s threat of a thrashing, Elerian got only a mild scolding, even from Tullius, for both men were more anxious about Elerian’s safety than anything else.

  After Balbus and Tullius had satisfied themselves that Elerian was unharmed, the three of them gathered around the fire. Elerian sat cross-legged on the cave floor next to Balbus. Making a good story out of it, he explained how he had become worried when Balbus and Tullius failed to return when it grew dark. He described his encounter with the mutare, although he left out the part about transforming himself into a squirrel, for he thought it best not to draw attention to his magic ring. He was quite certain that the two men would not approve of his having it if they knew its true powers.

  “The rest you know,” he said as he concluded his story.

  “Not all,” said Tullius sternly. “Why did you run off after the mutare? I am sure you heard me call for you to stop.”

  “I wanted to make sure that they did not return,” said Elerian easily, for it was true enough. “I lost them after a time, and as far as I know, they are still running even now.” Again, Elerian told the truth, but he carefully omitted the part about the spells of destruction he had cast. “After I was certain they were not coming back, I retrieved my clothes and returned to the cave.”

  “We will organize a pursuit in the morning,” said Balbus, interrupting Tullius who was now asking Elerian how he had lost his clothes.

  “Of course we will,” said Tullius. “We must be certain that the creatures are gone for good.” The old mage started to repeat his question again, and not wanting to reveal that he had become a squirrel, Elerian suddenly asked, “How did you come to be captured again, Tullius?”

  Tullius frowned and Balbus choked slightly and lowered the wineskin he was drinking from. Hastily, before Tullius could reply, he told Elerian how the
mutare had captured them, primarily through trickery. He spared Tullius’s feelings as best he could, blaming himself, like the good fellow he was, for not suspecting Gratus of treachery, and some of the frown left Tullius’s face.

  “Why didn’t you immobilize the mutare when you first saw them as you did the leopard, or blast them both as you almost did here at the cave?” asked Elerian curiously of Tullius when Balbus was done.

  “I was being cautious,” said Tullius. “That is a good quality for a mage to have, for magic has its limits,” he said, giving Elerian a pointed look. “There were two of the creatures, and as you saw tonight, spells can miss their target. Even if I had managed to immobilize them both, there might have been others back in the trees, ready to spring on us as soon as we revealed ourselves.”

  “Caution did not prevent you from being captured,” objected Elerian, who knew that Tullius thought him reckless at times.

  “It was underestimating the cleverness of the mutare, not being overly cautious, that got us captured,” said Tullius sternly. “The creatures had discovered a back entrance to this cave and were crafty enough to use it to lay a clever trap. Even with your help, we were very lucky to escape them tonight. If my first spell had not shattered the rock of the cave entrance and wounded them, we might be roasting over this fire instead of sitting around it at our ease.”

  Elerian let the crusty mage have the last word, for he did not seem inclined to ask any more questions that Elerian would prefer not to answer. With his ring safe for the moment, Elerian gratefully accepted the succulent slice of meat Balbus cut from the well-browned roast suspended over the fire. All conversation ended until everyone was feeling comfortably full.

  “We may as well spend the night here,” said Balbus to Tullius when they were done. “If those creatures return, I would rather not face them in the dark out in the forest. It will be easier to defend the cave against them now that we are armed.” Besides discovering the back entrance, he and Tullius had found a sharp woodsman’s ax, several long knives, and a bow with a full quiver of arrows in their search of the cave.

  “We must keep watch then,” said Tullius who was too full and tired to wish to attempt a long walk through the forest at night. “It will not do to be taken by surprise again.”

  “Let me keep watch first,” said Elerian eagerly. “I am not tired at all.”

  Tullius gave him an uncertain look, but Balbus smiled. “Very well then Elerian, keep watch. You have played a man’s part tonight, and I trust you to keep a good look out. Wake one of us when you are tired.”

  Balbus wrapped himself in one of the cloaks that they had found in the cave, and a moment later, Tullius followed suit. The two men promptly fell asleep, and Elerian proudly kept watch. With the strung bow on his lap and the quiver of arrows by his right knee, he sat on a stony outcrop outside the cave entrance so that the light of the fire would not dull his night sight. For the rest of the night, however, nothing disturbed the deep silence that filled the gully except for the murmur of the water that flowed through the nearby streambed.

  When dawn lightened the eastern sky, Elerian was still not sleepy. “I seem to require less sleep lately,” he thought to himself as he built up the fire and reheated the remains of last night’s meal. He woke the two men, and after a hearty breakfast, the three of them searched until they found Balbus’s walking stick before returning to Balbus’s farm.

  Balbus immediately set out alone down the lane behind his house, leaving Elerian and Tullius to wait at the farm. When he returned, he was accompanied by a large crowd of his neighbors, armed to the teeth and accompanied by a large pack of dogs. Tullius and Carbo joined them, and after a little pleading, Elerian was allowed to accompany them, too. They returned to the ravine, and with a great deal of howling and barking, the dogs, with Carbo in the lead, followed the cold trail east through the forest, the men running along behind, shouting and blowing horns to encourage the dogs and to keep track of each other. They carried provisions as well as torches and mage lamps, and were prepared to follow the mutare a long way if necessary.

  The line of the mutares’ flight continued straight east, without a break, toward the wild lands that lay in that direction. As evening drew near, the dogs were finally called in, and the hunt was called off, for the mutare had shown no sign of slackening their pace.

  “Something seems to have given the creatures a terrible scare,” said one of Balbus’s neighbors to Balbus. “They appear to have run all night and all day without slowing down at all.” Neither Balbus nor Tullius made any comment, but the mage’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the fright he had put into the mutare.

  On their way home, the men in the hunting party stopped at the Goblins’ cave to rest and eat. They also gathered up the bones of those slain by the mutare, intending to give them a proper burial later. They took with them the clothes and other personal effects they found lying about in hopes of identifying the dead. A close watch was kept on the forest for several weeks after. Whether the mutare returned to the lands they first hailed from or whether they died of their injuries was never found out, but they were never seen in those parts again.

  The adventure whetted Elerian’s appetite for magic, but to his disappointment, he found that his power remained elusive, slipping out of his grasp like water running through his fingers whenever he sought to control it. He was unable even to heal the injuries the mutare had inflicted on him. Thinking that training might help, he began to badger Tullius again to take him on as an apprentice. Tullius was sympathetic, for he remembered his own desire to be a mage at the same age, but he still refused to give in to Elerian’s pleading.

  “Even if you were not still too young, you have not shown me the steadiness of character an apprentice must possess before beginning his training as a mage,” he sternly told Elerian. Although Tullius did not bring up Elerian’s pursuit of the mutare, Elerian knew his impulsive act still troubled the mage.

  THE WOODCUTTERS

  Despite Tullius’s admonition that he was still too young and hasty to train as a mage, Elerian found that, after his adventure with the mutare, magic was constantly in his thoughts. “Maybe I can learn to be a mage on my own,” he thought to himself hopefully. “I have used my powers a number of times now without any ill effects. Perhaps Tullius was just trying to frighten me when he said to avoid using magic before I received any training.”

  Disregarding Tullius’s warning, Elerian took every opportunity to try to perform more magic, but all his efforts ended in failure. Summer passed into winter and winter into spring. Still, his powers remained elusive, and the magic ring he wore on his left hand remained stubbornly dormant. Elerian began to despair. He was nearing his fourteenth birthday, and he still had not learned to master his powers.

  “Somehow, I must find a way to produce the strong emotions that seem to break down the barrier that keeps me from using my power,” thought Elerian to himself as he cast his mind back to the times when he had succeeded in performing magic. Each time his mage powers had come alive, he had felt some powerful emotion such as fear, anger, or sadness. He began to consider what he might do to create the heightened feelings that would enable him to use his powers again. Elerian’s mind turned, immediately, to thoughts of mischief. A good prank always brought many strong feelings into play, especially if there was a chance of being caught. Elerian had suppressed his urge for mischief for some now time in order not to draw unwanted attention to himself or Balbus, but, “If I can use my ring to cast an illusion,” he thought to himself, “then there will be little danger of anyone discovering who I am.” With his mind made up, he began to search for a likely victim for his first prank.

  It was not long before he thought of the woodcutters who gathered wood from the forest. Elerian understood the necessity of their work, for people must have wood to burn, but he had no great fondness for anyone who routinely cut down trees. The dislike he felt for their trade and the fact that they worked alone or in small groups in
isolated places in the forest made them perfect targets for his first act of mischief.

  In the evenings on the days when he returned home from his lessons with Tullius, Elerian began to search out the places where the woodcutters were working. Stealthily, without ever revealing himself, he sought to frighten the men with growls or wolf howls made from some cover out of their sight, but the results were not very satisfactory. The men were armed with sharp axes, and they were not the fearful sort. Although they looked about them with heightened alertness, they were not in any way frightened by Elerian’s efforts, and there was never enough risk involved to awaken his powers.

  When Balbus suggested a bee hunting expedition a few days after his last unsuccessful attempt to frighten a group of woodcutters, Elerian agreed without any great enthusiasm. He followed rather despondently behind Balbus and Carbo as they walked into the forest, keeping his eyes on the ground and not paying much attention to where they were going, for he was wondering, bleakly, if he would ever become a mage. Suddenly, Balbus stopped short. “This is as bad as Goblin work,” he said angrily.

  Elerian looked up to see what had upset him and saw a freshly cut ash tree lying on the forest floor, stripped of its limbs and left to rot. Elerian immediately became as angry as Balbus. Most of the men who followed the woodcutters’ trade cut fallen branches and trees that had come down from natural causes such as storms or age. If they felled a live tree, they used every part of it. The tree before them, however, had been chopped down just for its branches which were of a convenient size and could be cut to length without the added effort of splitting any wood.

  “Who would cut wood in such a lazy and wasteful way?” Elerian asked Balbus indignantly. As if in reply to his question, the thud of axes came from nearby. Balbus immediately set off to investigate, with Carbo and Elerian following close behind him. Soon, they came to the source of the sounds, and Elerian was horrified to see three men lopping the limbs from a tall gray-skinned beech they had felled. From the green leaves on the branches, he could see that it was a live tree they had chopped down.