Tales from the New Earth: Volume One

by Thompson, J. J.

  He made sure the gate was closed and sealed tightly and then retreated into the tower, shivering. The air was getting colder by the minute as the sun set and the winter night began.

  Simon lit more candles and built up the fire before he made his dinner. Dried venison, a gift from Clara's people, and fried potatoes from his stores in the cellar. He decided to open a bottle of wine as well. Alone for the first time in years, he felt a need for some liquid courage.

  After his meal, Simon sat in front of the fire in his old easy chair, sipping his wine and listening to the flames hiss and crackle at each other.

  It's so quiet, he thought as he stared soberly at the fire. So quiet.

  He'd never been a garrulous person, back in the old days. Just a handful of friends, with Daniel being the closest of them. But maybe that was why he'd depended so much on Kronk, yes and Aeris as well, cranky though he often was, for company.

  Their point of view had always been just different enough to be interesting. He'd appreciated the earth elemental's work around the tower, but it was his friendship that Simon had enjoyed the most.

  But now? He glanced sadly around the room, eyes flicking to the kitchen table where the pair had stood most often when they talked. Now he was alone and there was no way to know when, or even if, he would ever see his little friends again.

  Simon gulped down the last of his wine, thought about pouring himself another glass and decided not to. He was depressed enough without it.

  So what to do now? There were at least two months of winter left to get through alone. He had enough supplies to survive, but the solitude might drive him mad before spring.

  “Don't exaggerate, former wizard,” he growled to himself.

  There was a bigger worry. What would the old gods of Chaos do now? They must know that he was defenseless. Would that satisfy them? One day, when the four remaining primal dragons had finished wiping out humanity in their territories, one or more of them would come to North America with their brood and finish off the remainder of the race, including him.

  The question was, did they hate him so much for his destruction of the black dragon to want him dead sooner?

  Simon closed his eyes tiredly and slumped in his chair. There was no way to know. All he could do was take things one day at a time.

  What he did decide to do, though, was visit Clara and her village. Chief was strong enough to get through the snow-covered forest and he was sure that the cleric was worried about their loss of communication.

  And who knows, he thought. Maybe she'll have some ideas on how he could regain his power.

  He snorted. Yeah, right.

  Simon heaved himself up, rinsed out his glass and blew out all but one of the candles. He checked the locks on the door and windows before taking the candle and walking slowly up to bed, his footsteps echoing hollowly as he went.

  Before he tried to sleep, the wizard secured all of the windows on the second floor and then lay in bed, listening to the winter wind singing its lonely song as it whipped around the tower. And he finally acknowledged something in his own mind.

  You were the best friends I ever had, guys, he said to the departed elementals. I'll never forget you. I hope you don't forget me either.

  And on that sad note, Simon drifted into a fitful sleep, thinking of the empty days to come.

  Chapter 3

  Two days passed. Two days that Simon spent doing chores that Kronk used to take care of. He didn't really mind. It took his mind off of other concerns. But finally, on the morning of the third day, he decided to ride to Nottinghill, Clara's village, and pay her a visit.

  The weather was a bit milder than it had been, but still clear and chilly. He bundled himself up in his winter coat, thick mittens and a long scarf and, as he rode a frisky Chief toward the forest across the clearing from the tower, glanced back once and hoped his home would be okay in his absence.

  Without magic, he'd been unable to lock his door or the gates from the outside. So he'd left the main gate closed and exited from the small rear gate, hoping that if anything or anyone approached, they'd assume the place was sealed tight. It was the best he could do.

  Chief crunched through the three feet of snow with ease, throwing up his head and snorting happily to himself. The horses only got exercise when Simon let them out to run in the snow along the frozen lake behind the tower, and the stallion had boundless reserves that he needed to work off.

  The trip through the forest was easier than the wizard had feared. The wind had scoured paths between the trees where the ground was almost clear and Simon let Chief pick his own way through, just keeping him headed in the proper direction.

  It still took twice as long to ride to Nottinghill as it normally would in the summer and, by the time Simon rode out of the forest and stopped on the low hill looking down on the town, his fingers and toes were tingling uncomfortably and the tip of his nose, deep inside his hood, was numb.

  I hate the cold, he grumbled to himself and then smiled as he caught sight of the small town below.

  The wall that Kronk and the other elementals had constructed for Clara and her people gleaming brightly in the late morning sunlight. Dozens of chimneys sent plumes of smoke straight up through the still air, their roofs covered with snow.

  It looks like a Christmas postcard, he thought poignantly. For some reason, the sight of the idyllic-looking little town saddened him for a moment.

  Simon finally nudged Chief and they slowly made their way down the hill, the snow squeaking under the horse's hooves.

  At the front gate, open during the day, a lone guard stood watch. He, or she, was bundled in furs and carried a spear on their back. As Simon approached, the guard pushed back their hood and the wizard saw a woman's face that he didn't recognize.

  Apparently it wasn't mutual though, and the guard's eyes widened as he slipped his hood off of his head.

  “Good morning,” Simon said as he got within speaking distance.

  The guard nodded and smiled slightly.

  “Good morning, sir wizard,” she said respectfully. “Clara didn't tell us that you would be visiting today.”

  “I'm sure she didn't. I just decided to drop by. It's been a long winter and I felt the urge for some...human companionship.”

  She grinned and nodded her understanding.

  “Yes, I suppose even a wizard gets tired of solitude occasionally.”

  She waved at the gate.

  “Go ahead in. I believe that Clara is in the main hall at this time of day. She'll be pleased to see you, I'm sure.”

  “Thanks very much.”

  He noticed that the guard was shivering slightly and gave her a sympathetic look.

  “I hope that you'll be relieved soon. The cold does get to a person after a while.”

  The guard laughed.

  “Oh, I don't mind. It gives me an excuse to get outside. But thanks. My relief will be along shortly. Enjoy your visit.”

  “Thank you,” he said and urged Chief through the gate.

  There were only a few people moving through the narrow streets of Nottinghill. Like the guard and Simon, they were wrapped in heavy clothing and kept their heads down as they scurried on their way.

  In the center of town, on a little rise, the main hall stood covered in blazing snow and ringed with icicles. Simon dismounted when he reached the main door and then stood for a moment to stretch his legs after the long ride.

  Chief nuzzled the back of his neck and he patted the big horse gratefully.

  As he tied the reins to a post near the door, Simon explained to the stallion that he shouldn't be too long.

  “Don't worry, big guy,” he said quietly. “We'll be heading home in a few hours. Can't leave your girlfriends alone overnight, now can we?”

  Chief snorted and whickered in seeming agreement and Simon chuckled as he opened the door of the hall and ducked inside.

  The hall was about a hundred feet long on each side. In the rear were Clara's private quar
ters, while the main hall held rows of benches and an open area in the center. A fire pit that Simon didn't remember seeing on his last visit had been dug out and lined with stone in the middle of the hall and was blazing merrily, smoke rising to a hole in the roof directly above it.

  Seeing no one in the hall, Simon put his mittens into his pocket, made his way to the rear and knocked on the door to Clara's rooms.

  “Come in,” he heard her call. He opened the door and stepped inside.

  The room was bright and cheerful. There were several wide windows covered with flowery curtains, colorful throw rugs scattered about and many candles burning warmly.

  Clara was sitting in a long couch to the left as Simon entered, frowning down at a book on her lap and holding a steaming cup in her hand.

  As he entered, she glanced up and stared at him in obvious shock for a moment. Then she put the book aside, set the cup on an end table and quickly stood up.

  “Simon!” she exclaimed and hurried over to take both of his hands. She peered at him closely.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure. After we were cut off the other day, I was worried sick. Unfortunately, we've had a rash of illnesses lately. The flu, some rather bad colds, things like that.”

  As she spoke, Clara led Simon to the couch and sat him down firmly, first taking his coat and hanging it next to the door.

  “I wanted to send someone to check on you, but we've yet to find any horses out in the wild and slogging for hours to your place is a challenge in winter.”

  Simon had to smile at her chatter. It was good to speak to someone who knew him, after being alone for a few days.

  “I'm glad you didn't send anyone,” he told her. “The cold has been pretty bad and I'd hate for someone to get injured on my account. Besides, I'm fine.”

  Clara had poured him some tea from a pot on a sideboard but stopped at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

  “Really? I mean, you look fine. But you don't sound fine.”

  She offered him the tea, took her own cup and sat down at the other end of the couch.

  “What's wrong?” she asked as she watched him closely. “Considering how cold your hands are, I'm guessing you didn't just Gate here.”

  The wizard took a few sips of tea and sighed. The chamomile was a gift from himself and Kronk, who'd had a special touch when it came to growing things.

  “You're very perceptive, as usual,” he said with a tight smile. “And you're right. I didn't Gate here. The truth is...”

  He hesitated and stared down into his cup.

  “The truth, Clara, is that I can't Gate anymore. In fact, I can't cast any spells at all. My magic is gone.”

  The cleric stared at him in disbelief.

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “Just that. It's gone. All the spells I learned from the gods of Justice have been erased from my mind. And even the spells that I discovered on my own are useless. I memorize them just fine, but when I try to cast them, nothing happens.”

  He flinched at what he thought was a whiny edge in his voice.

  “Look, I'm not complaining. Not really. It's just that after more than three years, magic had become second nature to me, like my physical strength was back in the old days. To lose it, just like that, well...” He paused and tried to smile. “I'm feeling a bit lost and scared, to be honest.”

  Clara smiled in sympathy, reaching out to pat his hand as she listened.

  “I didn't think such a thing was possible, Simon,” she told him. “The magic that you and I and some of the others use is a gift from the gods, as you know. They've slipped it into the stream of power that their evil brethren are pumping into the world. It sounds as if the evil ones found that power and, I don't know, blocked it somehow.”

  Simon nodded dejectedly.

  “My thought exactly,” he said. “And if that's true, then I'm done as a wizard.”

  The cleric stared at him for a long moment and then snorted.

  “Nonsense,” she said firmly.

  The wizard looked at her in confusion.

  “What?”

  “I said nonsense.”

  Clara stood up abruptly and went to fill her cup. She spoke as she poured.

  “Simon, my powers are still intact, as are the powers of Eric and the others.” She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “The ones you call the Fantastic Foursome.”

  The wizard smiled in spite of himself. Four of the Changlings; Eric, Virginia, Gerard and Anna, used magic as a group. Singly, their powers were practically nonexistent. But together, they were very powerful indeed.

  “Which means,” Clara continued, ”that the flow of magic from the Void, from the gods of Light and Justice, continues.”

  She sat down again.

  “So whatever has happened to you, has been achieved through some other means. Something specifically aimed at you.”

  Simon felt a spark of hope at that thought. He'd been sure the magic itself had been cut off. If it hadn't, maybe there was a way to regain his powers.

  “Tell me what happened after we lost contact,” she asked. “You had repelled the dragons attacking the tower and all was well. Then the Magic Mouth spell failed.”

  “Right, that's true.” He took a deep breath. “Well, right after we spoke, I...lost Kronk and Aeris.”

  He spoke flatly but Clara looked alarmed.

  “Lost them? You mean they're..?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I think they were drawn back into the elemental realms. It was a shock, to say the least. I tried calling them back but nothing happened. The spells I used to know were gone from my memory. My staff wouldn't channel magic anymore and, when I tried to cast one of my own spells, absolutely nothing happened.”

  He looked away and blinked rapidly. Losing the elementals still hurt and he felt a sense of loss that was almost painful.

  Clara put a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

  “You miss them, don't you?” she asked softly.

  “More than the magic, actually,” he said with a shrug. “Kronk especially. He's been with me almost from the beginning, after the old world was destroyed. He wasn't a servant; he was a friend.”

  “Yes, I understand that.”

  Clara rose again and began to pace the room slowly, frowning in thought.

  “I have no idea how to reverse what has happened to you, Simon,” she said and he felt a rush of despair.

  “But,” she stopped abruptly and looked at him, ”I'm guessing that the gods I serve might. Now normally I have to wait for them to contact me in dreams to know their will. But in this case, I'm going to try to speak to them directly. It's a bit presumptuous on my part, I know, but they've taken an interest in you and I'm hoping that will encourage them to listen to my petition.”

  Simon allowed himself a tiny degree of hope.

  “What do you need to do?” he asked.

  “Pray,” the cleric said with a little shrug. “How else do you speak with a god, after all? I wonder if I could ask you to step out into the main hall for a little while. I need privacy for this.”

  “Yes, of course,” Simon said as he scrambled to his feet. He put down his cup and walked to the door. “Do you need me to do anything?”

  “Have patience, my friend,” Clara told him with some amusement. “This isn't like an old-time phone call. They may take their time answering me, or they may not answer at all. Relax as best you can and I'll see you in a while.”

  He nodded, grabbed his coat from the hook beside the door, and went out into the hall.

  Simon made his way to a bench that was close to the fire pit, sat down and tried to be patient, as Clara had suggested. It could take hours, he supposed and, important or not, you couldn't rush something like this.

  But patience was in short supply and, after half an hour or so, Simon put on his coat and stepped outside.

  It was only around two o'clock and the clear icy-blue sky blazed with sunlight. The wizard went over to Chief
, removed his bridle and put on a halter that he'd brought along in his saddlebags. The horse whuffled into his neck as he worked and Simon had to laugh. It was as if Chief thought of himself as a lapdog instead of a stallion.

  When he was done, Simon headed toward the main gate. The narrow cobble-stoned street was swept clean of snow and he was grateful in the intense cold that the footing wasn't slippery.

  Halfway there he saw a woman coming from the opposite direction. It was Virginia. She smiled and waved as she recognized him.

  “Simon!” she called. “How are you?”

  When she got closer, she gave him a warm hug. Wrapped in thick, fur-lined hide the way she was, Simon felt like he was being hugged by a rather short bear.

  “The gatekeeper said that you were in town when I passed by.”

  “Passed by? Where are you going in this freezing weather?” he asked curiously.

  Virginia chuckled. She was quite pretty and Simon found the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed very endearing.

  “You can't stay huddled inside all the time, even in the winter. I like to get out every day for a walk and some fresh air. Anyway, he said that you were meeting with Clara, so I thought I'd drop in and say hello. Looks like you saved me the trouble.”

  “Happy to help,” he responded with a grin of his own. “Actually I was going down to ask the guard if I could get a bucket of water for my horse, and if there's a store of hay somewhere.”

  “Aha!” Virginia exclaimed with obvious pleasure. “Now I've saved you some trouble. As one of the poor peasants who helped to harvest the hay in the fall for the sheep, goats and assorted other livestock, I'm intimately familiar with where we store the stuff. Come along and I'll show you.”

  “Hey, thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Simon followed the young woman to a large building set against the wall on the other side of town. Inside, he grabbed an armful of hay and Virginia found a wooden bucket and they walked back toward the town center to use the community water pump.

  All the while, Virginia chatted about the various goings-on in town, getting Simon caught up on all the news.