The Mage (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “Spies for Torquatus, I’ll warrant,” said Ascilius softly. “Without your ring we would have already been seen and perhaps captured.”

  Wearily, they went on until they finally reached the summit of a saddle between two sharp peaks. There, they stopped to rest in the shade of a large boulder. The sun was now falling into the west, behind them, and long shadows had begun to stretch toward the east from the boulders and peaks around them. Hungry as he was, Elerian would have traded any amount of food for a single drink of cold water. The clear spring by the farmhouse was only a memory, and his throat felt as parched as the barren landscape around them.

  To distract himself from his thirst, Elerian examined the side of the mountain that dropped away below them. Far down the mountain, at the edge of the tree line, he saw a ruined castle perched on a steep ridge. Beyond the ridge, the precipitous sides of the mountain fell away into another forested valley, perhaps seven of eight miles wide, with a small river running down its center. Beyond the valley rose another series of rugged peaks and ridges. It was a most discouraging landscape, and Elerian wondered how they would ever cross all of that difficult country without food, or proper clothes. He was already badly sunburned on his back and shoulders, as was Ascilius.

  “Do you think we should shelter in that ruin for the night?” Elerian asked Ascilius.

  The Dwarf started awake, for he had closed his eyes and had begun drifting off to sleep. He eyed the ominous ruin with suspicious eyes. “I am not sure that would be safe,” said the Dwarf. “That pile of rubble has an evil look to it. Who knows what we will find inside?”

  At that moment, a long drawn out wolf howl lifted mournfully into the air behind them, down on the flanks of the mountain. It was answered by another, and then, a whole series of howls broke out.

  “Maybe it is only a wolf pack hunting a deer or a boar,” said Elerian to Ascilius.

  “Maybe,” said the Dwarf doubtfully. “Until we know for sure, it would be best to take cover somewhere. If they are tracking us, and they come upon us in the open, we will not last long, ill armed as we are. It seems we must take refuge in that old fortress after all.”

  Together, they jumped up and raced down the side of the mountain, picking their way as best they could over steep slopes of bare rocks and fields of tumbled boulders. Behind them, the pack was in full cry, moving rapidly up the western side of the mountain toward the saddle they had just abandoned.

  The fortress was farther than it looked, and the sun had sunk behind the peaks at their backs, plunging the world into twilight, before they drew near to the base of the ridge on whose summit the fortress sat. As they paused for a moment before the narrow path that led up to the ruin, Elerian removed his ring, for in the dark, the golden glow cast by the invisibility spell would stand out like a beacon to anyone with mage sight.

  An excited yelping on the heights behind them caused both Elerian and Ascilius to look back over their shoulders. Elerian, with his keener sight, saw a black buck with gleaming antlers and red eyes crest the saddle where he and Ascilius had stopped to rest. Covering the ground in great leaps, it sped down the mountain, straight toward the ruin where Elerian and Ascilius planned to take refuge. Behind it, the first wolf appeared, running nose to the ground as it followed the buck’s trail.

  “The deer will lead them straight to us,” groaned Ascilius as more wolves appeared on the skyline. The pack rushed down the side of the mountain toward them in full cry. Suddenly, the tenor of their voices changed, rising to a fever pitch of excitement. When the frightened deer suddenly quartered to their right, across the side of the mountain, the pack ignored it, continuing on toward the ruined castle. There was no doubt now that they had abandoned one prey in favor of another, for they were following exactly the same path Ascilius and Elerian had taken.

  “We must reach the castle ahead of them and find some defensive position,” said Ascilius urgently. Taking his own advice, the Dwarf sprinted up the path leading to the decayed fortress. Elerian, running lightly, followed Ascilius. After a steep climb, they reached the ruined gates of the castle. Ascilius was breathing heavily, but Elerian did not appear winded at all.

  The way inside lay open before them, for the wooden doors of the gateway had long since fallen off their hinges and lay rotting on the ground. After they passed through the opening that led through the thick stone walls of the fortress, Elerian and Ascilius found themselves in a courtyard about a hundred feet square. Most of the space before them was filled with a jumble of stones and rotted timbers, fallen from the crumbling walls. They threaded a tortuous path through the rubble, arriving at another empty doorway on the far side of the courtyard that led into a large building whose roof had collapsed long ago. Beyond the entrance was a great hall with a wide stone staircase in the center. The staircase led up to a balcony edged with a stone railing. The balcony completely circled the upper level of the hall.

  “This may be just what we need,” said Ascilius, as he cautiously climbed the staircase, with Elerian following right behind him. Although the steps were worn and fractured by time and weather, they were still sound, as was the stone gallery at the top. They stopped on the landing, and Ascilius looked appraisingly down the stairs with a practiced eye.

  “We could search for a long time and not find a better place to make a stand,” he said to Elerian. “Let us make use of the time left to us to fortify it.” Setting aside his ax, Ascilius began picking up pieces of fallen stonework and piling them at the head of the stairs. Elerian joined him, and by the time the first of the wolves entered the great hall of the fortress, they had a chest high barrier of broken masonry piled up at the top of the stairs.

  “Come up,” shouted Ascilius loudly to the shaggy black beast that advanced snarling to the base of the stairs. “We have a warm reception planned for you.” He flourished his ax, and deep in its throat, the wolf growled up at the Dwarf, its eyes glowing like coals in the dark hall.

  “Do not be shy, come up,” Ascilius taunted the beast.

  Elerian drew his knife and waited in silence. “I wish I had a bow,” he thought regretfully to himself. “Not a single wolf would make it up these stairs.” Just then, the rest of the pack rushed into the hall and gathered around the first wolf. Elerian could not tell if they were lupins or ordinary wolves bred to the service of the Goblins. There were a dozen in all, great black beasts with rough, hairy coats and eyes that gleamed like burning embers. They milled around at the bottom of the stairway, barking and whining in an excited manner before suddenly surging up the stone steps like a black wave.

  When the chief wolf reached the top of the stairs, it stood on its hind legs, rearing its head above the barrier. It glared at Ascilius, who was standing on a piece of masonry so that he could look over the barrier. The wolf’s hot breath blew in his face as it lunged at him with open jaws, seeking to close them on his face. Nimbly, Ascilius sprang backwards off his perch, avoiding the attack. Before the wolf could withdraw its head, he neatly split the beast’s skull with a mighty stroke of his ax.

  The next wolf leaped clean over the barrier and its slain companion, striking Ascilius in the chest with its front paws and knocking him to the stone floor of the landing. Before it could savage the Dwarf, Elerian gripped it by the scruff of the neck with his left hand and stabbed it through the heart with his knife. Effortlessly, he flung the heavy body over the railing to crash to the stone floor twenty feet below.

  Undeterred by their losses and maddened by blood lust, more wolves attacked the barrier, but they were hampered by the fact that they could only approach it two or three at a time. Shouting insults, Ascilius struck at them with his ax, and any that made it past him found themselves facing Elerian and his deadly knife. Before long, four wolves lay dead on the floor of the hall. Several others carried wounds from Ascilius’s ax. The pack retreated halfway down the stairs, and one huge beast that had been hanging back from the others suddenly forced its way through them, bounding up the stairs and making
a tremendous leap over the barrier. Landing on all fours behind Ascilius, it twisted around and reared up to seize the Dwarf by the back of the neck. Elerian quickly sprang forward, striking the beast with his right shoulder. The impact of the blow sent the wolf sprawling onto the stone floor of the landing. It scrambled quickly to its feet and leaped for Elerian’s throat, but he deftly seized it by loose, hairy skin of its throat with his left hand, holding it at bay while his right hand slid his knife between its ribs, deep into its heart. As the fire died in its eyes, the wolf twisted strongly, trying to break Elerian’s powerful grip, cursing him all the while in a harsh, guttural voice. Beneath the long hairs covering its neck, Elerian caught a glimpse of a slender iron collar. This member of the pack, at least, was a lupin. He heaved the body of the shape changer over the railing, and it fell heavily to the stone floor below. The death of the lupin seemed to take the heart out of the rest of the pack, for they drew back to the bottom of the stairs, glaring up at Elerian and Ascilius with flaming eyes.

  Caught in the grip of battle fever, Ascilius shouted insults at them. There was a red gleam in the Dwarf’s dark eyes that worried Elerian, and he held himself in readiness to freeze Ascilius in his tracks with a spell if he made any move to leap the barrier and carry the fight to the wolves. After a few more shouted insults, however, the red glint left Ascilius’s eyes, and he became calmer. He and Elerian were able to catch their breath for a moment, as the pack continued to hesitate on the stairway.

  “That will teach them to trifle with us,” said Ascilius cheerfully to Elerian. “We can hold them here as long as we must.”

  “But we are trapped as long as they hold the stairs,” replied Elerian. “We cannot afford to be pinned down here too long. The last wolf I killed was a lupin. It was wearing a collar and may have already called its master.”

  At that moment, a sudden silence from the pack drew Elerian’s and Ascilius’s attention to the hall below. The wolves were no longer snarling and milling about. Instead, they had put their ears down, and several had their tails between their legs. Every eye in the pack was riveted on the doorway to the hall. A tall, slender figure dressed in supple black leather clothes suddenly entered the hall through the ruined door, striding across the room with a light, silent step. His height, pale skin, and pointed ears immediately marked him as an Uruc. The wolves cowered before him, and those still on the stairs retreated, leaving the way up to the landing open. The Goblin sprang lightly up the steps, and Elerian started, for he recognized the Uruc’s face. The Goblin approaching up the stairs was Lurco, the Uruc Elerian had encountered in Ancharia after he rescued Tamas. He was also the same Goblin who had gone to Lascar to search for Elerian shortly before his capture.

  “Does he know what happened to Balbus and Tullius,” wondered Elerian to himself as Lurco advanced up the stairs.

  Although Lurco was armed with a short, curved sword, he made no move to draw it as he neared the barrier at the top of the stairs. Instead, he raised his right hand, and anticipating danger, Elerian suddenly threw himself at Ascilius so that he and the Dwarf rolled away from the barrier an instant before the blocks of masonry, of which it was constructed, flew across the landing, crashing heavily into the wall behind it. With a supple leap, Lurco cleared the last two steps and turned to his left to face Ascilius and Elerian, who had just scrambled to their feet. The Uruc took no notice of their weapons and seemed not the least concerned that he was one to their two. With a cruel smile on his face, he spoke softly to Ascilius, ignoring Elerian for the moment.

  “My hunt has yielded unexpected sport tonight. I thought to take a deer, but instead I find an old friend whom I thought dead. What a pleasant time we shall have becoming reacquainted again, Ascilius, while you tell me how you managed to cheat death in the old one’s pit.”

  Ascilius had gone white as a sheet at first sight of Lurco’s face, but after hearing him speak, something inside the Dwarf seemed to snap. Raising his ax, he rushed at the Goblin, uttering a strangled cry of anger. Languidly, the Uruc raised his right hand. Elerian saw a red orb leave his fingertips and envelope Ascilius. The Dwarf abruptly stopped in his tracks, a look of incredible fury frozen onto his face.

  “Remain there,” said the Goblin contemptuously, “until I am ready to deal with you.” He turned to face Elerian, who had been taken by surprise by the sudden turn of events. “And who might you be, my friend?” said the Goblin softly, his dark eyes alight with curiosity and malice. “The Dwarf’s chain companion was a Hesperian at last report. Answer me,” he suddenly shouted, as Elerian remained mute.

  “I am Ascilius’s chain mate,” Elerian said quietly, with no trace of fear in his voice. “The guards were never clever enough to penetrate my disguise. I did not assume my true form until we were beyond the reach of the guardian.”

  “Then you must be the one I have sought for so long in the south,” said the Uruc. A vindictive light appeared in his dark eyes. “At last I know the secret the old man and the mage sought to keep from me. An Elf disguised as a Hesperian,” he said softly.

  Elerian felt his heart lurch, for the Goblin could only be referring to Balbus and Tullius. Remembering the feeling of loss that he had felt in Esdras after his capture, he shouted, “What did you do to them?” but he had a sick feeling that he already knew what the Uruc’s answer would be.

  “You cared about them,” said the Goblin with mock sympathy in his voice. “How sad that I had to kill them, but not before they suffered great torment trying to protect you, the ungrateful whelp who had deserted them in their hour of need. And now, after all these years, I have you anyway,” he crooned, as he watched with an exquisite delight the growing anger and sorrow in Elerian’s face. “I even killed the old man’s dog,” he said softly, seeking to torment Elerian even more. “I broke his bones just as I will break yours before I take you to Torquatus.”

  The Goblin raised his right arm to hurl a spell at Elerian, but he had indulged too long in his cruel game. Like Ascilius, Elerian was overcome with rage, and he leaped recklessly at the Goblin, moving a quickness that took the Uruc by surprise. Before Lurco could complete his spell, Elerian wrapped his long, left hand around his slender, sinewy throat, choking off his air and lifting him clean off the floor while his right hand darted in to sink his knife into the Goblin’s chest. Barely in time, the Uruc seized Elerian’s knife wrist with his left hand, stopping the blade after it had traveled less than an inch into his precious flesh. Furiously, he drew his own knife with his right hand and lifted it high to plunge it into Elerian’s neck, but in the blink of an eye, Elerian loosened his hold on the Goblin’s neck, seizing his knife wrist with his left hand. The Uruc dropped back onto his feet, and locked together, he and Elerian strained against each other until their sinews cracked, and the tendons rose on their necks like steel cords, but neither could advance their weapon an inch, so evenly were they matched in strength.

  The Goblin finally spat a red orb of light at Elerian’s face, but Elerian countered immediately with a shield spell that covered him with a cloak of golden light that the Goblin’s spell failed to penetrate. Three more death spells, the Uruc launched at him, each more powerful than the last, but Elerian’s shield held against each one. Transported by rage, the Goblin suddenly bared his teeth and attempted to sink them into Elerian’s throat. Elerian fell away before him onto his back, and with a powerful thrust of his right leg against the Goblin’s slender midsection, sent him flying over the stone railing of the balcony. Twisting lithely in the air, the Uruc landed unharmed on his feet, twenty feet below. Black blood was running freely down his left side from the wound inflicted by Elerian’s knife, but there was no fear or weakness in his evil face, only a desire to kill inflamed his eyes, which now burned like fiery embers. When the Goblin looked up at Elerian, however, he was shocked to see that Elerian’s form was shifting, changing into the panther form that he had worn so often when he was younger.

  Desperately, Lurco began his own shape change, dropping t
o the floor on all fours as his form began to flow and rearrange itself into a nightmare creature that was all too familiar to Elerian. His own change completed, Elerian leaped over the rail to the floor below. A split second before Lurco completed his transformation and while he was still vulnerable, Elerian delivered a tremendous blow with his right paw to the Goblin’s neck, breaking it and killing him instantly. A savage fury filled Elerian’s heart, and he threw back his head and gave out a deep, thunderous roar that made the stones around him tremble.

  The wolves still gathered near the stairs climbed over each other in a panic as they fled out the doorway with Elerian in hot pursuit. After he caught and killed one by the door, a hissing sound drew his attention as he crouched over the body. The sound came from an atrior standing in the courtyard, wearing a handsome black leather saddle on its back. Ears laid back flat, it hissed at Elerian again, baring its fangs. Muscles bunching nervously under its sleek black hide, it began to advance with the grace of a big cat. Elerian flattened his own ears and crouched down, preparing to spring onto the creature’s back. At the last moment, the atrior’s nerve broke. It suddenly whirled around, fleeing across the courtyard and down the side of the ridge in long, graceful leaps that Elerian could not hope to match.