Foundling Wizard (Book 1)

by James Eggebeen

  “I’m glad we’re finally stopping for the night,” she said. “This has been a particularly rough day. I don’t know why, but I think I’ve had enough of the endless sea of grass already, and we’re not even half way there yet.”

  “I am, too,” Lorit said. He hauled out the fire pit that stood above the lizard skin carpet on its wooden legs. He stacked a small amount of dry wood into the pit, ordering it into a neat pile. He held his hand over the wood and willed it to ignite. Flames licked out and warmed his hand.

  After dinner, they cleaned up and stowed their gear. They always started as early in the morning as the lizards woke up and often skipped breakfast preferring to eat on the go rather than take more time than necessary. It was full twilight and the stars were just starting to show.

  Lorit noticed the lizards were showing signs of agitation. Usually they calmed down and were sound asleep by nightfall, but tonight they seemed upset. Their tongues darted in and out, and they breathed heavily. They slashed their tales back and forth.

  “I wonder what’s gotten into them,” Chihon said. “They seem to have caught the scent of something.”

  “Kinem said there was nothing dangerous out here,” Lorit reminded her. “I hope he wasn’t mistaken,” he added, looking around. All there was to see was the tall grass surrounding the matted down circle created by the lizards and the sled.

  One of the lizards raised its head and hissed angrily. It tugged at the stake as if trying to get away from something. Its tongue darted in and out quickly while its head swayed from side to side.

  “There’s definitely something out there,” Lorit said. He probed with his senses, to see if he could make out what was disturbing the lizards. He could feel vague shapes heading their way. They appeared to be traveling in a single file line. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was moving steadily their way.

  “I feel something headed our way,” Lorit said. “There are several of them, and they're all headed straight towards us, in a nice neat line.” He probed for more detail but could make out nothing more.

  “Can you tell what they are?” Chihon asked. “I can sense something, too. I’m not sure what it is. It has an odd feel to it.”

  “Listen,” Lorit said.

  He extinguished the fire with a wave of his hand, plunging the campsite into darkness, save for the glow of the stars. He listened intently for any noise the approaching creatures might make.

  He quieted himself, trying to hear anything that would indicate what it was. He heard nothing outside of the rustling and hissing of the lizards, who continued to taste the air searching for the intruder as Lorit did.

  Lorit could sense the creatures coming closer. As the procession approached their campsite, it turned and started to surround them. Soon Lorit could sense them, fanning out in a circle, until the campsite was entirely surrounded. He prepared himself for whatever might come out of the tall grass, gathering strength into himself he steeled himself for a fight.

  He strained to discern what the creatures were doing, but nothing happened. Whatever they were, they’d encircled the campsite and were now standing, unmoving in the tall grass, waiting.

  Lorit probed more directly toward one individual. He could feel that it possessed power that he wasn’t familiar with. They felt powerful, much more powerful than the priests, but not the same. It was almost as if they possessed a different kind of magic, one that Lorit had never seen before.

  He sat waiting, tense in preparation for whatever might come, but nothing came. The night wore on, but still nothing happened. Lorit could sense the creatures surrounding the campsite, but they were as still as the dormant lizards, who had slowed down and had finally gone quiet when the night cooled off.

  “I don’t think they’re going to attack us at night,” Lorit said. “They seem to have quieted down. Maybe they’re like the lizards. Maybe they go dormant at night.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable about this,” Chihon said.

  “I don’t like it either, but I think we may need our rest before tomorrow,” Lorit said. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ll wake you later, when I get tired, so I can sleep a little later on.” Lorit motioned towards the blankets.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I was resting this afternoon while you drove.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Lorit said, “Just get some sleep.” He wanted to spend more time probing the creatures himself. There was something peculiar to them that he could not identify. Not threatening, but powerful.

  He watched and waited half of the night before he woke Chihon and took her place on the blankets. He fell fast asleep, confident that they were safe for the remainder of the night.

  Lorit came awake as Chihon shook him gently, whispering, “They’re moving again.”

  Lorit reached out with his senses to find the creatures encircling the camp, moving slowly closer. He could still make out the strange feeling that he’d detected earlier. He was convinced that these were not animals, but intelligent people.

  Suddenly, in one motion, they were surrounded by two dozen short, stocky men. They were all dressed in short leather skirts, carrying spears. They looked, to Lorit, like short squat children, with closely cropped white hair. Their skin glistened in the early morning light as the lizards did, light reflecting off of scales that covered their bodies.

  They stood silently, watching Lorit and Chihon out of two dozen identical pairs of blue green eyes. None of them moved beyond the first step they'd taken into the circle of matted down grass.

  “Don’t do anything that might startle them,” Lorit said quietly.

  One of the lizards raised its head and hissed at the strangers. It thrashed its tail about in agitation. One of the men broke from the circle and approached the lizard. He held out his hand as he neared the beast. It quieted down and stopped thrashing. It withdrew its long forked tongue. Soon, it settled down and went about grazing as if nothing were amiss.

  Lorit remained motionless, watching the men. After what felt like an eternity, one of the men stepped forward. He stood out from the others by his ornate garb. He wore several rings around his neck made of gold. Lorit decided he must be their leader.

  He approached Lorit, who remained seated on the blanket. He stopped in front of Lorit and placed his spear blunt end into the ground. He leaned on it as he peered into Lorit’s eyes, as if looking intently for something.

  Finally, he straightened up and pointed to the sled. “You get on,” he said with an accent so thick that Lorit almost missed the words.

  When Lorit did not move, he pulled his spear from the ground and repeated, “You get on.”

  Lorit raised his power, and visualized the short squat man frozen in place; he cast the spell he'd used so successfully on the Captain.

  The man just repeated his gesture. “You get on,” he said once again. He pointed at Lorit and then Chihon. “Wizard no magic on Arda'um. You get on,” he insisted.

  Lorit and Chihon mounted the sled and watched the strange little men as they carefully folded and stowed the gear. One of the men quickly hitched the lizards to the sled and took hold of the reigns pulling the lizards behind them. They lined up single file and headed off into the grass with the lizards and the sled behind them.

  “I guess we’re going with them,” Lorit said.

  They bumped along for most of the morning without catching sight of their captors. The men were short enough that the only thing Lorit could see was the rustling of the Plains Grass as they forged ahead of the sled. They set a pace almost as fast as the lizards could make on a run, and kept it up.

  Early in the afternoon Lorit could make out a rough clearing ahead. Suddenly, they were in a large area where no grass grew. The dirt was a rich black and smelled strongly of dung. There were several dozen huts made of Plains Grass arranged haphazardly around the clearing. Between the huts, the ground was freshly tilled and planted with the seedlings that looked like corn and vegetables.

  Each of the me
n headed for a different hut as they entered the clearing. The leader and the man holding the reigns of their lizards stood their ground. Another man came out and unhitched the lizards. The men departed, each pulling a lizard behind him.

  The leader turned to Lorit and Chihon. “Safe now,” he said, pointing to the ground. “You get down.”

  Lorit stepped down from the seat of the sled and onto the dark earth. The leader motioned to him and said, “You come.” He looked back at Chihon and beckoned to her saying, “Both come.”

  He led them to a large hut near the center of the clearing. The man pulled back a braided rug made from the same Plains Grass used in the hut’s construction. He gestured to Lorit. “You in,” he said.

  Lorit had to duck to get into the hut without hitting his head on the doorway. He crouched inside as his eyes adjusted to the dark interior. The hut was carpeted with a rich, colorful mat that looked like it was made of silk. Seated opposite of the door, was a short, squat woman, her skin glistening in the light of the window just as the man’s had when they’d first seen him.

  She motioned Lorit and Chihon to cushions placed close in front of her. “Sit.”

  Lorit and Chihon sat cross legged in front of the woman. They still towered over her, even seated, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was the obvious leader, from her actions. “Du’ala,” she said, pointing to herself.

  “Mu’umba,” she said, pointing to the man with the golden circlets on his neck.

  She pointed at Lorit, “You?”

  “I’m Lorit. This is Chihon,” he said, gesturing to Chihon as he spoke.

  “Lor’it,” she said. “Chi’hon.” She looked intently at Lorit.

  She reached out and firmly grasped his chin, turning his face towards her. “Your eyes,” she said.

  She was stronger than Lorit expected. Her hands were rough and calloused, her grip firm.

  “Wizard,” she said, releasing him. She repeated the process with Chihon. “Both,” she said, as if that explained everything.

  “Yes, we’re both wizards,” Lorit said.

  “Wizard no magic on Arda'um,” she said defiantly.

  “We mean you no harm,” Lorit said.

  “You say,” she said. She sat upright and reached into a small basket. It was made of woven Plains Grass, as was almost everything in the camp. She pulled out a battered pipe and a clump of something that looked like a clod of horse dung. She broke off a piece and stuffed it into the pipe. She looked up at Mu’umba, who bowed and stepped out of the hut.

  The old woman sat there, pipe in hand, examining Lorit and Chihon, as if waiting for something. She didn’t say a word or make a single gesture. Lorit didn’t feel compelled to try to make conversation. He suspected that his attempts would’ve been met with silence, or a one word response, if he tried.

  Shortly Mu’umba returned carrying a small brand with its tip on fire. He approached Du’ala, extending the flame towards her. She leaned into it, sucking the flame into the pipe until a thick stream of white smoke finally erupted from her mouth. She released the pipe which immediately started to emit a steady stream of pungent white smoke.

  She took another puff, holding the smoke in her lungs then extended the stem to Lorit. “Smoke,” she said, gesturing for him to take the pipe from her.

  “No thanks,” Lorit said, “I don’t want any.”

  “You smoke!” she demanded, shaking the pipe at him. “No smoke, no truth.”

  Mu’umba came alert at her words. He lifted his spear and stepped towards Lorit.

  “I think you should smoke,” Chihon said to Lorit. “I think it would be bad manners to refuse. It looks like we’re on trial here.”

  Lorit took the pipe from her and placed the stem in his mouth. He carefully drew the smoke into his lungs suppressing the urge to cough at the pungent, acrid taste of it. It smelled worse than burning horse dung to him, but he tried to be a polite guest and refrain from coughing it up.

  He handed the pipe back to Du’ala who held up her hand. “Both,” she said pointing at Chihon.

  Chihon followed Lorit’s example and drew heavily from the foul smelling pipe.

  Lorit started to feel light headed. His eyes became heavy and he had a hard time focusing on Du’ala. She appeared to draw nearer to him and move farther away, both at the same time. The colors in the hut shifted and shimmered. The colors of the carpet shifted rapidly before settling down entirely out of order.

  After a while, things calmed down slightly. Lorit looked at Du’ala, who appeared transformed from the squat, hardened old woman. She seemed to glow with a green light and appeared as a young girl sitting cross legged on the carpet before him. He knew it was still Du’ala, but somehow transformed into this new form by the smoke.

  He heard a voice in his head, not spoken, and without a trace of accent. She said “Wizard, why have you come here? Why have you disturbed the peace of the Arda'um? We have honored the agreement. We keep to the Plains of Grass and stay away from your world.”

  “We did not come to disturb your peace,” Lorit answered in his vision. He could feel his words form, but his lips remained still. “We’re just passing through on our way to Veldwaite,” he continued.

  “You are a mighty wizard on the path to war,” Du’ala said. “You promised that there would be no more wizard wars. We kept out promise. Why don’t you?”

  “We’re just passing through,” Lorit said, “We didn’t even know you were here. We were told that no one inhabited the Plains of Grass.” He still felt light headed and the colors shifted, but Lorit was beginning to feel more comfortable conversing with Du’ala in this manner.

  “You lie,” she said. “You are on your way to make war.”

  “We’re on our way to make war. I oppose the temple priests, and I’m on my way to make war on them,” he explained. “Yes, we’re on our way to make war.”

  “That is truth,” Du’ala said. The green light about her shifted to a dark blue light that seeped around the edges of her image as she talked. “That is truth,” she repeated. “Why do you make war?”

  “The temple captures young boys and kills them to take their magic,” Lorit explained. He leaned forward blinking his eyes briefly in an attempt to get the image of Du’ala to settle down long enough to focus on her.

  “That is forbidden,” she said. “We agreed. No more war. No concentration of powers. No taking of the awakening ones. We agreed. Why have not kept the promise?”

  “They killed my younger sister, Onolt, and my mother.” Lorit tried to control his emotion. He could see the colors surrounding him shift wildly.

  “You plot revenge,” Du’ala said. “I see the anger in you. You make war.”

  “I’ve done nothing,” Lorit replied angrily. “The temple is doing these things. I’m trying to stop them.”

  “You tall ones are all the same. The temple, you, all the same,” she said, waving her hand to take in Lorit and Chihon both.

  “We’re not the same. I’m trying to stop the temple.”

  “Tell me who you are,” she said.

  “I’m Lorit. I come from a small farm in Nyhagid. I came into my powers and have had to run from the priests ever since. Zhimosom found me. He’s been helping me learn to control my powers. He’s been helping me find and rescue young boys before the temple gets to them.”

  “But you go to war,” she said.

  “We go to war,” Lorit said, “to stop those who take the lives of young boys, just to take their powers.”

  “Tell me about this Zhimosom,” she asked. The deep blue glow surrounding the woman turned to a light sky-blue shade as she spoke.

  “He’s an old and wise wizard,” Lorit said. “He contacts me, in dreams at first, now more directly. He’s in Amedon, in his study, when I see him. Once he came to me in Nebrook. Sometimes, there’s a Sorceress with him. They’ve been teaching us,” Lorit continued, struggling to explain.

  “These two?” Du’ala asked. She waved her hand in the air.
The colors swirled wildly, settling into the image of Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. Lorit examined them closely. They were the same, but much younger than he knew them.

  “Yes, those two,” he answered.

  “They encouraged you to make war on these temple priests?” she demanded.

  “Yes… No… Yes. They encouraged me to make war,” Lorit answered. “Zhimosom encouraged me to take on the temple in Veldwaite. He thinks this is the way to win the war.”

  “You can bring him here?”

  “Bring him here?” Lorit asked. He wasn’t sure what she was asking. “I can contact him when I need, but I cannot bring him here.”

  “Contact him, then,” she said. “I want to talk to him,” she demanded.

  “I’m not sure that he’s available.”

  “Try,” she demanded. “Now.”

  Lorit reached out to Zhimosom, struggling through the fog of the drugs. He could vaguely discern the touch of the Wizard. Lorit could tell that Zhimosom was there, but he did not respond. Lorit pushed harder to get in touch with the Wizard and felt him push back.

  “I cannot get him to respond,” Lorit said. “I can feel him, but he’s not open to my attempt to reach him.”

  “Allow me to try” Du’ala commanded. The glow around her changed to a bright orange as she reached her hands out to grasp Lorit’s.

  “I’m not sure it will help,” he said, reaching for her. As his hands touched hers, Lorit could feel her unique power. The Arda'um woman had a strange power to her that surged through Lorit, reaching out to Zhimosom.

  Lorit could feel the Wizard resisting his attempts at communication, but when the power of Du’ala reached out through him, the Wizard looked up, startled. Suddenly, Zhimosom appeared inside the hut, seated alongside Du’ala. He wore a look of surprise on his aged face. When he turned to see the Arda'um woman, his face relaxed, and he smiled.

  “Hello, my old friend,” he said to Du’ala, “It’s been a very long time since we last talked.”