The Chronicles of Nevin Reasoner: The Complete Duology

by Thomas Lombard

  The contest between Gren and the first troll had also ended. Gren staggered back toward the party, badly bruised and injured from his fight. Behind him, the first troll lay rapidly dying from a broken neck and internal injuries.

  Gren stumbled back, looking to see what had befallen the mage, who was tending to Corissa by this time. When the droll reached Anson, the creature grunted unintelligibly.

  “I’m all right, Gren! I have to see to the Lady, but I am fine,” Anson said. “I will tend to you as well, as soon as I am done with her.” Assured that Anson was unhurt and no longer in danger, Gren ignored the offer and limped off into the brush, disappearing from sight.

  Zael came upon the scene and ordered elves to bring water and look after the humans and any of their own kind who may have been hurt. Zael showed genuine concern as he knelt down to check on Corissa’s condition; he was obviously relieved when Anson said she had no serious bodily injuries.

  “Trolls never attack in the presence of elves,” the Elf-Lord breathed through a drawn mouth, as if he was convincing himself. “And I have never heard of them attacking in pairs. They dislike each other almost as much as other beings. The thing most puzzling to me is that trolls are always cowardly in the face of obvious defeat. The presence of so many armed elves should have been enough to drive them off without an attack, but they went right for the humans. Something must have possessed them, some fear or anger that surpassed their usual bad temper. This is a bad sign, Anson. Something extraordinary is amiss. I do not like it.”

  Zael allowed them a few minutes to regroup and prepare to continue their journey. A small party of elves stayed behind to attend to the dead trolls, disposing of the bodies according to custom.

  When it was time to depart, Zael saw Corissa and Nevin to their feet. He once again took the lead position, but did not push the others as hard as before. While the pace was slow for the balance of the day, the entire party wanted to put distance between themselves and the site of their frightful experience with the trolls. They made almost four leagues before the first signs of dusk. Zael selected a spot for their night’s rest and his minions quietly went about the business of setting up camp.

  * * *

  Nevin lay back in his bed of bracken and boughs, nursing his bruises and aches. Hands folded under his head, he stared into the twilight pursuing thoughts that would take his mind off the day’s earlier events. A very small campfire crackled noisily from deadfall twigs, bringing welcome heat and light. The fire was carefully tended by a brace of elves who made sure the burning was kept under control.

  Anson sat down next to Nevin, thinking his friend needed consolation. “Are you distraught from today’s events, Nevin?”

  “Well, I’m not sure. Except for some bruises, that battle seems like it was somehow unreal. Just like so many new things I have experienced since I met you.”

  “Then what is it that troubles you, Sir? Corissa? Gilsum?”

  “Well, right now I am trying to make myself think about entropy.”

  “‘Entropy?’ I do not know that word.”

  “It’s like a law or a rule of the physical world that is associated with heat and other forms of energy. Entropy explains the movement of heat.”

  “What bothers you about this law?”

  “What bothers me is that the properties of entropy are predictable and physically inevitable, at least up till now. Remember when Bartram raised the temperature of the water in my fish tank? In order to raise the temperature like he did, he had to transfer—or move—energy from somewhere. I thought I finally had it figured out. There was a heated radiator near the fish tank and he might have used neural energy from his brain, what you call mindpower, to guide heat from this radiator and direct it to the fish tank. Nobody knows much about neural energy, except that we know it exists, we can measure it, and up to now people thought it was not very potent.” Nevin propped himself up on one elbow and added, “This explanation makes sense if we suppose that Bartram’s spell could have bridged the gap, by that I mean the distance between the fish tank and the radiator. What doesn’t make sense is that we saw the heat being transferred across this gap very rapidly. Entropy would not allow for such a rapid transfer of heat, unless there was some third source of energy pumping the heat into the fish tank. This possibility complicates an already messy picture, especially because it would take a hell of a lot of energy to raise the temperature of ten gallons of water by twenty or so degrees. Are you following me?”

  “I’m not sure,” Anson replied. “Say more about it.”

  “The more I think about it, I have to assume that the heat source in Bartram’s demonstration could not be the radiator, and neural energy is probably insufficient for the effect we saw. That means there must be some other high energy source for a heat spell to work…the law of entropy requires it.”

  Anson responded with a shrug, “I do not know of such laws, Nevin. Mages are taught to memorize spellwords exactly as their teachers had learned and practiced through the ages. The only laws that govern the success of a spell are how perfectly you say the words, execute the movements if there are any, and whether you generate sufficient mindpower to bring about the desired outcome.”

  “There’s another thing I’ve wanted to talk with you about,” Nevin replied. “Those spellwords. I’ve noticed a lot of similarity among your spells. They are made up of parts, like elements in a chemical equation. Take the indifference spell, for example. Some of the phrases refer to an element of relaxation, one poses figure-ground relationships and another imbues quietude—all three elements working together produce the effect you call “indifference.” And another thing: All the spells have targets, or better yet, let’s call them coordinates, for their action. It is possible that the coordinates in some spells refer to a sort of central energy source—maybe the sun, or the heat sink trapped in a nearby area of ground, or possibly a source like a campfire. And your neural energy—your mindpower again—might be a catalyst that allows access to the energy source. If I had some good thermometers I could test that theory.”

  “I have never examined the parts of a spell in the way you describe,” responded the puzzled mage. “As apprentices, we did memorize them part by part, but I thought that was to make the task easier. No one has ever treated a spell as other than a whole entity.”

  “How many spells are there?”

  “I know of twenty-one, not counting their possible reversals, but there are probably more in old spell books somewhere.”

  “Only twenty-one? Has anyone ever mixed up the parts of different spells to create new ones? Like making an invisibility spell out of parts of a deliverance or, say, a reversed luminescence to make things darker?”

  Anson eyes grew wide with this suggestion. It had never occurred to him, or any other mages he knew, that new spells could be created. “Nevin, you talk of things which are beyond the skills of an ordinary mage. Even a High Mage could not likely do such things as invisibility. Spells are not so extraordinary to me, although I did notice how you altered the luminescence for your demonstration in the King’s throne room.”

  They each winked at their remembrance of that experience.

  “Well, Anson, I don’t know what goes into being a ‘High Mage,’ but after what you did with the horses and restoring light in Lucan’s castle, I’d say you were pretty ‘high’ up on the magery scale yourself.”

  “Your words are flattering, Nevin, but my skills are only modest.”

  “You certainly are modest, all right. I don’t think you realize just what you can do, or maybe what the two of us together can pull off. Some day perhaps we’ll find out just what we can do, entropy notwithstanding.”

  Nevin was glad to see Anson drop the “Sir” as their friendship was growing. It was a welcome feeling that the camaraderie of this little band was drawing them closer together. Feelings like this were new for Nevin, who had always kept pretty much to himself. Changes in friendship among their party was evident to others as w
ell. After they walked over to join Corissa, Anson politely excused himself to allow the other two some privacy.

  Corissa sat on a blanket spread next to Nevin’s bedding area. With the combination of light from the fire and the waxing moon, Nevin saw that she had cleaned up and changed her clothes. No bruises and scratches from the troll’s attack were visible. He stared at a chain of small star-shaped flowers arranged in her hair. She was lovely.

  “You noticed the flowers?” she said. “The elves thought I should add a little color and fragrance to my appearance.”

  Nevin only stared.

  “The flowers?” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “In my hair? The elves arranged these flowers for me. They fussed and pampered me, and even provided warm water for washing. I think they were trying to cheer me after our awful...adventure.”

  In the subdued light, she was utterly beautiful.

  “Sir Nevin? You are staring at me.”

  “Oh! Sorry. It’s just…that…I mean…you…Oh, I wish everyone would drop this ‘Sir’ business. Just call me Nevin. Or anything you want.”

  She laughed at his awkwardness. They sat there for some time, saying little, each enjoying the presence of the other. For Corissa, though, this was a very confusing moment. She could not deny her own growing feelings of friendship for Nevin. She also wanted to tell him about the ring she had hidden, but her King had sworn her to secrecy. Yet, if she had been killed by the troll, the secret of the ring would have died with her. Someone else should know of the importance Lucan attached to his heirloom. He told her she would have to figure out when to reveal it, but this did not seem to be that time. She forced the travails of the journey out of her mind, putting off thoughts of their mission and how little they had actually accomplished so far. Tonight she wanted to free her mind of worry and enjoy the company of her comrades. She would use this time to get Nevin to talk more about his land and his life before coming to Antrim. She knew very little about him. Her plan succeeded and Nevin talked freely. They chatted and bantered for quite some time, well after everyone else had gone to sleep save the few on watch.

  Chapter 5

  Surprises

  Orris poked at the dying ashes in the campfire, privately biding his time like a soldier awaiting orders. Corissa checked the contents of their packs, but her anxiety was thinly disguised after the pleasantness from the previous evening had waned. Nevin watched her, recalling the pleasure of her company last night but still hesitant to ask what bothered her now. Anson attempted to converse with each of them but got little response, leaving the mage concerned that the group was losing its focus despite their growing camaraderie after the troll attack.

  Finally, Zael walked up with a small escort of his people. All four humans quickly came together because it was evident from the Elf-Lord’s demeanor that something was happening.

  Zael carried a bow with a full quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, plus a swordwood blade and dagger in his belt. He looked as stern as Nevin had seen him, much like their first meeting when he issued a death sentence for their little band. Fortunately, this time it was not the four from Antrim who were the target of Zael’s concern. All were eager to find out what trouble was brewing. While Zael usually spoke to them with an authoritative voice, this time his tone was quiet, almost hushed, but still deadly serious. It made things seem ominous.

  “Last night we were alerted that something was amiss in the Wood. The trolls’ behavior was one sign, but we also saw that many deer had traveled far out of their normal range. Birds that normally rest at night were active and their calls bespoke distress. I dispatched scouts and they have returned with disturbing news. Red-shirted soldiers have gathered on the far shore of the river bordering Gilsum, many of them. A thousand, perhaps more. They are making preparations to cross.”

  “Do you mean the Grayflood River?” Corissa asked.

  “Yes, Lady. A barrier you must cross to reach Gilsum.” Zael studied her reaction before continuing. “A few Red Shirts already crossed the river some days ago and have since cut down trees and been careless with fires. This assault on our Wood has greatly disturbed the creatures within and is a sinister omen for Elvenkind.”

  Zael paced and addressed Orris, “What do you say is their purpose, Soldier of Lucan?”

  Orris answered directly. “If there are a thousand Gilsum Guardsmen, as you say, then they have massed half their entire army. That is far too large a force for their usual attacks on towns and villages. They must have some special assignment. I would guess they plan to march on the city of Sartell.”

  “That is my thought as well,” said Zael. “Despite our lack of interest in your war, we are again drawn in. We know that Gilsum soldiers do not seek to attack us; few, if any, even believe we inhabit the Wood. They will think of us as little more than a small band of dainty forest dancers, but we will stop their intrusion.” Zael turned to Corissa, a Gilsum-born woman, to see if her reaction betrayed any knowledge of this situation. Sensing no indication, he quickly continued, “Therefore, I must act. You must understand it is neither for your King nor to save your army that I act. I move to protect the Elvenkind. This assault on our Wood must be thwarted. I wish to punish the Red Shirts. You may choose to face them with us or not. There will be no ill feeling if you stand aside.”

  Before anyone else responded, Anson spoke, “Zael, can we accompany you as we have and still stand aside when we reach the Grayflood River?”

  “If that is what you wish. Does the mage speak for all of you?”

  No one was willing to argue, least of all Nevin who wanted nothing to do with armed fighting. He would have liked more information and a discussion of their options, but Zael grew impatient and it was best to let Anson or Corissa take the lead.

  “I have no time to tarry,” Zael said. “It is still several leagues to the Grayflood River and we must reach there before night. If you wish to go with me, then follow. Do not take time to bear your parcels. I will have them brought by others. You are already as slow as a plodding bear, so you must travel as lightly as you can. I leave now.” There being no need for further words, Zael strode off.

  With his senses sharpened from his recent experiences, Nevin detected blurred movements of a large number of elves moving through the forest cover. Anson, Orris and Corissa quickly jumped in line behind Zael, with Nevin’s start delayed as he hopped along trying to put on his boots. After getting on his footwear, he had to run to catch up with the trail of marchers before they moved out of sight in the dense pathless cover.

  * * *

  Their column kept up a quick pace for two hours before stopping for a bite of sweetened rusk and a sharply stimulating herbal drink. Zael allowed only ten minutes before they were off again. This pattern was repeated two more times before they finally stopped for a proper rest. Zael offered a note of encouragement when he told them they were making much better time than their previous efforts. “Even a plodding bear can move swiftly for a time, it seems, if the need is great.”

  Nevin, still sore from the unaccustomed physical demands, appreciated the word of support even if it was faint praise. He was also grateful that, more or less, his body was getting tougher and physical condition was improving.

  Before taking off again, Zael made a surprising remark to Corissa.

  “You do quite well, Lady. You disprove the stories that women of the King’s court are pampered and helpless. You make it seem that a determined woman can outdo even the strongest man.” He gave a sidelong glance at her three comrades, then all eyes turned to Nevin, who was sitting on the ground with his boots off, rubbing one of his feet, displaying an anguished look of physical discomfort.

  “What? What did I do?” Nevin asked, at the querulous looks.

  A while after they resumed their march, the quick pace started to flag. Anson was the only one of the Alliance who could keep up the frantic pace. Orris developed persistent leg cramps, plus Nevin’s improved conditioning was fading, and C
orissa’s growing weakness made it necessary to stop once an hour. Zael decided these frequent delays meant they would have no breaks longer than a few minutes and they would not eat until the end of their trek.

  They reached the western end of the Elvenwood, where the ground became much more uneven, almost hilly, but the forest growth was still quite dense. Less than half a league from the Grayflood River, they finally stopped. Nevin and Corissa were spent and collapsed where they stood. A camp was set up in a tiny glade and small groups of elves congregated around the area while those with assignments to set up the camp did so. No fires were allowed.

  Nevin looked around the glade, thinking it unusual to find another open grassy area surrounded by such dense forestation. Noting the perfectly circular pattern of the area, like a few others he had seen previously, he guessed that these places were purposely cleared as designated meeting places or strategic markers, though he had seen no evidence that elves actually cut trees down. That made sense since they eschewed metal tools, but they still had that remarkable swordwood that could probably chop trees.