Foundling Wizard (Book 1)

by James Eggebeen

  He sat with her and woke her when the dreams came. He washed her forehead with water and brought her a cup when she was thirsty. Their mother cautioned Lorit that few children survived the fever, and he should not get his hopes up. It made him all the more determined to sit with her, until the end, if that was what was coming.

  One night, Lorit felt her skin cool down. The fever broke, and she started to sweat profusely. She threw off the covers, kicking the heavy blankets back. This time he needed a dry towel to soak up the sweat, and he knew she was going to make it.

  Early the next fall.

  Lorit and Onolt were working their way to the high pasture to count the kine so they could prepare the barns for the herd where they would all have a warm place for winter. Lorit reached into his pack and pulled out a large green apple. He took a bite. It was juicy but sour. “I wish the red apples were ready,” he said.

  “They’ll be ready soon,” Onolt said as she carefully polished her own apple. “It won’t be but a few weeks. By the time we gather the kine in, they'll be ready. They always are.”

  “I can’t wait,” Lorit complained. He sat back against the old oak tree and closed his eyes. “I really miss the taste. Just imagine it, Onolt. You grasp that shiny red apple in your hand. I can see the skin. It’s almost smooth enough to reflect your face, like a mirror. The dimples on the bottom make a perfect stand for all that crispness. The curve of the stem with its little knobby end, where it was picked from the tree, pokes out of the dimple on the top.” He smiled at the thought of it, describing every delicious sensation as if that would make it real.

  “You take your fist bite, and as your teeth break the skin, the sweet juice rushes into your mouth. You don’t so much hear it crunch as feel it through your whole body.”

  Lorit,” Onolt screamed. “What are you doing? What’s happening?”

  Her sudden panic pulled at Lorit who was still lost in his reverie. Thoughts of the juicy red apple fought him as he opened his eyes. He could faintly see Onolt looking at him in stark fear. She was unclear, somewhat fuzzy around the edges. She pointed excitedly to the blanket in front of him.

  Lorit felt light-headed. He struggled to turn his attention towards her. The vision of the apple in his mind fought for his attention as he tried to make sense of what Onolt was saying.

  She was clearly terrified by something, but he couldn’t quite pull his thoughts together…

  There, on the blanket in front of him, was a tiny ball of mist. It gradually assumed the shape of an apple. It grew more solid and darker. Finally, it took the concrete form of the apple he’d just portrayed in his mind. It turned red and solidified right before his eyes.

  As the mist faded from around the fresh red apple, his mind slowly cleared. He took a moment to absorb the vision that now sat peacefully before him. Then he saw the look of shock and horror on Onolt’s face.

  Gingerly, he reached out to touch the apparition. It was precisely as he’d imagined it, plump and red with the promise of sweet juiciness. He picked it up and turned it over, examining it carefully. He could find no flaw.

  “What did you do?” Onolt demanded. “Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t know. I was just picturing this in my mind when you started screaming. I was wishing I had a sweet red apple instead of one of those sour green ones. I didn’t do anything. What did you see?”

  “You were sitting back and describing the apple when the mist just formed in front of you. It was light and sort of large and fuzzy at first. Then it started to shrink and get denser, taking on the form of the apple. It finally solidified into that,” she said pointing to the apple.

  “What happened, Onolt? It was all so fuzzy in my head.”

  “I think you’re a Wizard. You just conjured up an apple!” she exclaimed. She still looked frightened, Lorit thought, but not just of the mist that had settled into the form of the apple. She looked as if she were afraid of him.

  “Don’t be afraid, Onolt. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He put the apple into the pack and started to pick up the remainder of their lunch hoping that the normal activity of clean up would ease the tension.

  “Lorit!” she demanded. “What are you going to do?”

  Lorit could see that she was not going to let this pass. “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “This doesn’t mean I am a Wizard… I’m not sure what it means.”

  Lorit grabbed the pack and stood up. He shook out the blanket they’d used for lunch and folded it into his pack. He slung the pack onto his shoulder and headed for the trail without looking back at his sister.

  “Lorit, you know what this means,” Onolt insisted as she caught up with him. “You have to present yourself to the priest at the temple. You can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Onolt.” He stooped down and pried a stubborn rock out of the hard-packed dirt. He tossed it into the rough grass of the meadow. “I never really dreamed of being a Wizard, but I sure don’t want to be a priest. That much I know.”

  “They’ll find you, Lorit. They always do. I don’t know how, but everyone says they will eventually find you. If you try to hide, they’ll kill you.” She grasped his hand and pulled him to a halt. She straightened her diminutive frame as if to reach his height. She looked him straight in the eye.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Lorit. I need you around to take care of me,” she scolded him. “When I get old and married, you’re going to be the favorite uncle to my children. You can’t run away from this, and you can’t hide either.”

  “Please, give me time to think, Onolt,” Lorit replied. He gently took her hand from his arm and grasped it in his. He turned and started walking again, pulling her along with him. “I just don’t know what I am going to do yet. This is all so sudden.”

  They walked along in silence for a while. Lorit was lost in his thoughts but kept hold of Onolt’s hand as they climbed to the next rise in the meadow. From the top of the rise, they could see the homestead spread out before them. In the distance, Mistbury Tye was clearly visible, now that the morning fog had burned off.

  Near the center of town sat the temple of Ran. It stood out from the rest of the buildings, not so much because it was any larger or fancier, but because of the towering spire that jutted upwards as if trying to pierce the sky. “That’s where I would have to go,” Lorit muttered.

  “I know you don’t think much of the priests. They’re a little strange, I’ll admit that, but you really have to go and tell them what happened. Maybe they’ll let you live at home while you’re training.” She didn’t sound as if she believed her own words.

  “You know better than that, Onolt. If I go to the temple, they’ll send me away. I won’t see you again for years, if ever. I don’t want that. It’s not that I want to stay here. I just don’t want anyone else dictating my future. How would that be any better than father deciding what my life will be?”

  Lorit picked a small stone out of the grass and threw it with all his might into the meadow. “How would that be any different?” he demanded.

  “I know you, Lorit,” she said softly. “You’re going to get yourself in a lot of trouble over this.” She just looked at him in silence, waiting for him to answer.

  Lorit stood silently gazing at the town, wondering what he was going to do. He’d certainly had no indication that he was anything remarkable; he just knew that running the homestead was not his lot in life. Now he was starting to believe it.

  “Are you going to tell me what happened yet?” she asked.

  “I think so,” Lorit replied. He leaned back and put his hands behind him for support. “It was all so strange.

  “I was thinking about the red apples, remembering how delicious and juicy they were. The vision of the apple in my imagination got more and more real as I described it to you. Then I got a little caught up in the vision. That’s when I heard you scream.

  “I was light headed and couldn’t pull myself out of the
vision,” he went on. “It was as if I was trapped in my imagination, until finally I was able to see you pointing at something.” He sat up again and brushed the dust from his hand before continuing. “It was all so strange. I couldn’t force myself to think clearly. I couldn’t see you clearly, or the apple, until everything finally started to sharpen up.

  “It was only as the mist cleared around the apple, that my head cleared. Then I was able to think clearly again. It was scary, Onolt. I didn’t know what was happening.”

  “I don’t think we want to take this home with us,” he said as he reached into the pack and pulled out the apple. It looked just like an ordinary red apple, except that it was nearly flawless. Lorit hefted it in his hand and looked it over carefully. He took out his knife and sliced into it. The core made a perfect star shape, just as always when he cut it into pieces.

  He raised it to his mouth, anticipating the crisp sound as he bit into it.

  “Lorit. Don’t eat it,” Onolt said. “You don’t know what it might do to you.”

  “It looks perfectly nice.” He looked it over carefully. It looked just like every red apple he’d ever seen.

  “Please, Lorit,” she begged.

  “Fine, Onolt. I won’t eat it. He looked longingly at the apple before he gave in and sliced it into pieces and threw them into the meadow one at a time. Someday, there would be an apple tree growing there. Lorit wondered if he would be around to see it fully grown.

  By the next afternoon, Lorit and Onolt had finished surveying the herd. There were over two dozen kine that were showing with calves that would be born the following spring. They’d lost only three of the herd to wolves and the typical dangers that befell the kine while they roamed the high meadow. Almost all of the calves that had been born early in the spring had survived and contributed to the herd.

  In a few weeks, the men would return to the high meadow with the working dogs and drive the kine back down, to winter over in the barns. Today, they had to report to father on the status of the herd.

  The house was a typical homestead building with cedar shake shingles and mud sealing the gap between the rough planks. The chimney was made of stones that had been pulled from the fields and cemented together. A light plume of smoke curled up and quickly disappeared into the crisp afternoon breeze.

  As they made their way up the path, to the house, the front door burst open. A stout, middle-aged woman appeared. She had the look on her face that meant Lorit was in trouble.

  “Hello, Mother,” Lorit said. “We’ve finished counting the herd, and everything looks fine. The herd is growing nicely. We'll have a good winter.”

  Shyenn just stood there, looking at him. She didn’t say a word, move a muscle or even blink.

  Lorit paused before he got too close to his mother. “Mother, what is wrong?” he asked. “You look as if something were troubling you.”

  She slowly tapped the large carving knife in her hand. “There was a priest here this morning,” she said and paused. She continued to stare at Lorit with ‘that look’.

  When Lorit failed to respond, she continued. “Know anything about that? He was asking if we had any children around here that he might examine. He said that he’d sensed something from our general direction but couldn’t tell exactly where.”

  She continued to tap the knife expectantly. “He headed off towards the next homestead, he said.”

  Lorit hung his head avoiding her glance. “I’m sure I don’t know what he wanted. Certainly you don’t think I’m a wizard. Do you?”

  “Do I what?” Shyenn asked. She stopped tapping the knife and backed into the house.

  “Think I’m a wizard?” Lorit asked. “You don’t actually think that I’m a wizard. Or maybe it was Onolt.”

  Lorit and Onolt stepped around her and into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. The scent of roasting meat and onions filled the air making Lorit suddenly hungry. “When is dinner?” he asked, drawing in the delicious smell.

  “We’ll eat when your father and brother get home,” Shyenn said. “They went into town, to the market. I needed salt and sugar to put up the berries and vegetables. The garden harvest starts next new moon.”

  Onolt stepped around her mother, heading toward the living room. Shyenn caught hold of her arm before she could get past her. “Have a seat young woman,” she said, dragging a chair out from beneath the table with her foot. She guided the young girl toward it. “You too, mister,” she pointed to the other chair with her knife.

  Lorit pulled out the chair and sat down reluctantly. It was clear that whatever his mother had on her mind certainly was not over. He’d hoped she would leave it alone, but it looked like he was out of luck.

  “I don’t know what the priest was doing here,” Shyenn explained. “Those priests with their fake politeness and slimy propositions always set my stomach off… but they don’t just show up like that unless there’s a reason.”

  She put the knife down and heaved herself into a chair. She spread the towel out on the table before her and started folding it slowly. She spoke softly, without looking up from her task. “You two have that look about you that means you’re up to something.” She continued to stare at the towel, as if it were the most delicate of tasks, taking all of her attention.

  “What went on while you were up in the hills? I know you two. The priest coming here and you two looking like you have the biggest secret in the world is turning my poor guts to knots.”

  She looked up at Lorit. “What happened up there, Lorit?” She put her hands flat on the table and continued to stare directly at him with a look that demanded the truth.

  Lorit glanced at Onolt. She looked nervous and frightened. She mouthed the words “tell her.”

  Lorit sat forward in the chair and folded his hands in front of him. “I really don’t know, mother.” He paused for a while, but his mother’s unwavering gaze compelled him to continue.

  “We were just sitting under the big oak tree up by the creek,” he explained. “I was telling Onolt how much I missed the red apples and couldn’t wait for them to come into season, when one appeared right there, out of nowhere.

  “I am not sure what happened as it was all a little fuzzy to me at first.” He explained how he’d conjured up the apple and how it had affected him.

  Shyenn shook her head. “Just like that,” she said. “You magicked an apple right out of thin air.” She gestured to the air in front of her. “Without even trying. You materialized an apple. Where is it?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  “We ate it,” Lorit explained. “Then we tossed the seeds and the core into the meadow.”

  “Thank the stars you have a few brains,” she responded.

  Shyenn pushed her chair back and stood. “Hand me your pack.”

  He un-slung the pack from his shoulder and passed it to her. She opened it and rummaged through its contents. Without looking up, she said, “Go. Run to your brother’s room and get his coat and an extra pair of boots, and bring a few changes of clothes, too.

  “You have a serious decision to make, young man,” she said as she turned back to the stove. “What you choose is up to you, but whatever you decide, you must do it now. Before your father gets home.”

  Lorit was shocked by her sudden change of attitude. He looked at her as she pulled a small loaf of bread from the bread box and wrapped it in cloth. She rummaged through the cupboard, pulled out a block of hard white cheese, and wrapped that in another cloth. She carefully placed them both into his pack.

  “What do you mean, Mother?” he asked.

  “You're either going straight to the temple, to present yourself for training, or you’re going to get as far away from them as you can. Either way, you’re going to do it now! Anything else and you're putting yourself and this family in grave danger.”

  She turned to look at him with a look he'd never seen before. “You have to get going before your father returns, or you’ll have no choice in the matter. He’ll take you s
traight to the temple and hand you over. I know you, son. You’d hate the temple, and I don’t want my son turned into one of them,” she almost spat the last word.

  Lorit knew Shyenn was no friend of the priests.

  “Mother, why do you hate the priests so much?” he asked. “Sure, they’re a little slimy, I know, but you seem to hate them more than most folks.”

  Shyenn stopped her packing and turned to him. She had that stern look on her face that said he was just about to get a speech that he genuinely wanted to avoid. As she glared at him, her look softened, and she sat down, heaving a heavy sigh.

  “My sister, Lia,” she said, as if that explained everything. “She was not much older than Onolt when it happened. She was so innocent and inquisitive. She was into everything, just like Onolt.” Shyenn pulled at her dress and shifted in her chair. “She ran off one summer afternoon. She went looking for adventure and excitement. She didn’t know what kind of dangers might befall her.”

  “What happened to her?” Lorit asked. He’d never heard of an Aunt Lia.

  “We found her several days later. She was bruised and cut all over. Her clothes were torn and dirty. She was wandering the streets, mumbling.” Shyenn pushed her chair back.

  “She never said a word about what happened to her except she kept whispering something about the priests.” Shyenn looked at Lorit with a tear in her eye. “She wouldn’t eat. She screamed whenever a man came into the room. She died a few weeks later without ever coming out of it.”

  She stood, continuing to squeeze various items into Lorit’s pack.

  When Onolt came back with his clothes, Shyenn filled a second pack with Lorit’s spare boots and all of his clothes and handed it to Lorit. “Off with you, boy. I know which way you’ll choose. Please be careful, but get as far away from here as you can.”

  “What’s going on, Mother?” Onolt asked.

  “Your brother has to leave,” she replied. “Now!”