Quest SMASH

by Joseph Lallo

  "I am afraid I don't know what you mean," Myranda said.

  "Honestly? Well, then the others have been remiss. It is a very useful thing to do. I would wager to say that it effectively doubles the usefulness of a spell. You see, what I want you to do is to allow the spell to continue in the absence of your concentration. It is quite simple. Just increase the amount of force you are using to create the effect, but do not increase the effect. Think of it as, say, clenching your fist about a handful of wet sand. When you relax your hand, it keeps its form. The energy in the water will do the same thing, staying in the excited form you had coaxed it into," Calypso said.

  Myranda tried, but it was not immediately apparent how to do so. Refreshingly, Calypso watched and coached her as she went. This was something that, owing to Ayna's attitude and Cresh's language, hadn't happened properly since Solomon had taught her. It took several tries, but finally she loosened her mind and, lo and behold, the current she had conjured did not weaken for nearly a minute.

  "Remarkable," Myranda said, feeling the fruits of her labor without the veil of concentration for the first time.

  "I agree. And there is so much more to show you," Calypso said.

  As the light filtering through the water waned, Myranda learned how to draw air from the water, eventually creating a bubble the size of her head. Calypso assured her that in no time she would be able to create one large enough to stand in, and after a bit more education, large enough to ride in.

  All too soon it was time for her to leave.

  "Well, I will see you tomorrow," Calypso said, holding her hand as she whisked the girl back to the water's edge.

  "I look forward to it," Myranda said.

  She walked a few more steps, emerging from the water. There was an odd sensation of heaviness. Myn, who had been watching anxiously and waiting for hours, sprang to her feet and tried to usher her away from the water.

  "It is all right, Myn. There is nothing to be scared of," Myranda said, or tried to at least. Instead water poured from her mouth. She took a breath of air, and found it worthless to her. Realizing what was happening, she turned and plunged her head back into the water. After a long breath, she opened her eyes. There before her was Calypso. She was lying on the floor of the bank, just below the surface of the water, smiling. Her face was so close their noses were practically touching.

  "Something wrong, dear?" she asked innocently.

  "I can't breathe up here," Myranda said.

  "Is that so?" Calypso asked.

  "And I can barely move," she said.

  "I suppose you would like me to undo that little spell I cast," she said.

  "I would appreciate it," Myranda answered.

  "You know, you could stay down here, if you like," Calypso offered.

  "I would love to, but I have another trainer to see," Myranda explained.

  "Who?" Calypso asked.

  "Lain. Do you suppose you could undo the spell and finish this conversation on the surface? I feel a bit odd with my face plunged down in the water," Myranda said.

  "Lain? I cannot picture him . . . never mind, bring him down, too! The more the merrier," she said, hopefully.

  "Ouch!" Myranda exclaimed.

  "What is it?" Calypso asked.

  "Myn is trying to pull me out of the water. She is terrified of it," Myranda said.

  "Well, well. We are just full of excuses, aren't we? Very well. I shall see you tomorrow, bright and early. And do bring Deacon!" she said, touching her fingers to her pendant.

  In a typically playful fashion, the mermaid neglected to allow time for Myranda to withdraw her head from the water before undoing the spell. The result was a fit of coughing and sputtering as she hoisted her head up and took her first real breath of air since she'd gone below. She was soaked to the bone, and though it was far warmer here than it should have been for winter, she was beginning to shiver. As she began to walk away, she heard her teacher surface.

  "Here, just to show that I am not all bad," she called out.

  Myranda heard her snap her fingers sharply and instantly the water fell away from her like a sheet, a good deal of it splashing on Myn. With the water gone, she immediately felt more comfortable.

  "I will be sure to teach you that one. It tends to be rather handy," she said, leaping up and splashing down gracefully in the water.

  Myn shook off the water and looked scornfully at the lake.

  "Don't be too hard on her, Myn. She is just lonely. It makes people do strange things. I can vouch for that," Myranda said as she headed to the dining hall.

  Deacon had apparently retired to continue his scribing, as he was not about. She enjoyed a meal, and headed to Lain. In keeping with the recent trend, he seemed to be fighting faster and harder than any day before. It was a struggle to keep up with him, and as his attacks landed more and more frequently, Myranda slowly began to treat their encounters as real battles. She found herself fighting not to learn, but to win.

  There was a feeling. It wasn't fear, or anger, or hate. It was something deeper. It stirred her to swing harder and move faster. She felt it more strongly every time she landed a hit, and found herself longing for more when the training was done. At the end of the day, she retired to her bed, hardly aware of any blows she had taken. By morning, there would be no sign of a bruise, as that which Deacon had spoken of was beginning to happen. Her mind began to work at a healing spell instinctively after an attack, and continued to work in some small way even while she slept.

  #

  Trigorah stood in the throne room, her eyes scanning tapestries and portraits. Her elfish lineage had afforded her a very long life. She turned her eyes to the portrait of King Erdrick II. It was under his rule that she had begun her military career. He had blessed the creation of the Elites. He had even been the one to promote her to the level of general. He had been a great man. Trigorah had seen his son grow, and was present at the coronation. That was many years ago.

  There were footsteps behind her. Trigorah turned, and swiftly dropped to one knee, head bowed.

  "Your Imperial and Royal Majesty," she uttered.

  "Rise, and dispense with the titles," the king replied wearily.

  General Teloran stood. There was a time when it would have been unthinkable to be surprised by the appearance of a king. He should have been preceded by fanfare, by a royal procession. In the beginning, he was. Alas, as the years passed and the war marched on, the king had become less and less a leader. It was as though he shared the plight of his land. The decades of war had steadily drained them both of life and spirit. Now he was a withered husk of a man. When not attending to the affairs his people, King Erdrick III paced the halls of his nearly empty castle. His eyes had a faded, distant quality. The eyes of a man who had done things that could not be undone.

  "Awaiting General Bagu, no doubt?" the king asked as he settled down into the throne.

  "I am," the general replied.

  The king nodded.

  "He has this conflict firmly in hand, it would appear," he said.

  "Not as firmly as he might, but surely you are aware," Trigorah answered.

  "Bagu has not seen fit to involve me in his actions in some time. Even my seal and signature, which he had so meticulously seen applied to each order and dispatch, has not been requested in months," he explained. "It was my hope that perhaps his--"

  The door to Bagu's chamber opened and his voice issued forth.

  "General Teloran, step inside, please," Bagu requested.

  "General, the king was speaking," Trigorah stated.

  "Your Majesty, the matter is of great importance," said Bagu.

  "Go. The war comes first. Always, the war comes first," the king said.

  Trigorah reluctantly stepped through the door and closed it behind her. Bagu was seated at his desk. His normally calm and collected expression was tempered with the tiniest hint of impatience and concern.

  "I must object
to your behavior in the presence of the king," said Trigorah. She was in no position to issue a reprimand, but nonetheless her tone carried a sting.

  "Noted. What news have you of the girl?" he demanded.

  "She has not left the cave of the beast, but I am confident that she is still alive," Trigorah explained.

  "What possible source can you have for such confidence?" Bagu asked.

  "She has shown herself to be resourceful, intelligent, and resilient. Furthermore, the assassin is with her. If he wishes her to be alive, she shall be alive," Trigorah explained.

  "Epidime has been unable to detect her. He has been known to track targets to their graves and beyond," Bagu reminded her.

  "Epidime is skilled, there can be no arguing that. However, he is not infallible. With all due respect to him as a fellow general, he is blind of his own shortcomings," she replied.

  "And the sword?" he asked.

  "The Red Shadow would not have been so foolish as to bring it with him. He knows we seek him, as well as the girl and the sword. The scoundrel is wise enough not to place all of our targets such that they may be gathered in a single stroke," she reasoned. "No, he would have concealed it. That said, if he does not wish it found, it will not be found."

  General Bagu steepled his fingers once more and pressed them to his lips.

  "You found the assassin's go-between once. You shall find him again. When you do, you will secure the sword and bring it to me," he decreed. "I sincerely doubt that this Myranda still lives, but see to it that your men are vigilant. Important times are at hand and we cannot afford to be caught by surprise."

  "General, if I may make a suggestion . . ." Trigorah attempted.

  "You may not. You have your orders. If you wish ever to be returned to battlefront command, I suggest you follow them," he hissed.

  "As you wish," she replied.

  General Trigorah bit her tongue and pulled open the door of the office. As she marched through the throne room, she looked to the king one last time. The old man's gaze, a knowing look of defeat, caught hers briefly. Trigorah looked away. She had a task at hand. However difficult, however misguided, she had a job to do. It was her duty to succeed. And succeed she would.

  Chapter 32

  The next day, Myranda awoke to her normal routine. Deacon, while having breakfast with her, was thrilled to hear that Calypso intended to involve him in the training. He raved for a time about what gray magics he could teach that would mesh perfectly with water magics. His enthusiasm was contagious, and by the time the two had set off for the lake, she was more excited about learning the things he had spoken of than the things Calypso had in mind.

  Myn, however, felt differently. She was no fool, and when it became clear that they were headed back to that wretched lake, she leapt in front of them, spreading her wings to block their way.

  "What is this all about?" Deacon asked.

  "Ever since we had to make it through that waterfall, she hates the water. She is trying to protect me from it," Myranda said.

  "Oh. Well, that is quite noble, if perhaps a bit misguided. You really have nothing to worry about. It can't hurt you if you don't let it," Deacon said, directing the final comments at the dragon.

  "I think that is what she is trying to do. She won't let the water hurt me," Myranda said.

  "Ah, yes. Well, let us just go visit Lain, then," Deacon offered with a strange tone and a wink.

  The two walked toward Lain's hut. Myn followed for a few steps, but paused.

  "Come on! Let's visit him. I promise, we won't even fight," Myranda said.

  Myn looked questioningly at Myranda. The dragon then turned back to the spot at which they had been standing. She sniffed curiously.

  "This way!" Deacon urged.

  Myn lashed at the empty space with her tail. After the whip crack of it striking something, the veil of invisibility, as well as the pair of illusions, dropped away. Deacon was hopping painfully on one leg and Myranda was laughing.

  "Clever little thing, aren't you. Practically any other animal would have followed the illusions. I suppose that I had best look into both covering our scent and producing a false one. I ought to thank you for illustrating a weakness in my methods," Deacon said.

  With a bit of effort, the trio managed to make it to the lake again. Myranda tried her best to convince Myn the water was safe.

  "Permit me to demonstrate," Deacon said.

  He waded out into the lake until he was waist-deep. Myn watched cautiously.

  "There, you see? Nothing has happened!" he said.

  "Myn, watch me. I promise you that nothing bad will happen. And when I am in the water and you can see that it is safe, you can come in, too. Then you will know that there is nothing to be afraid of, and we won't have this problem anymore," Myranda said.

  Myn, with the utmost of reluctance, stepped aside to let Myranda wade in beside Deacon. She stood, chilled a bit, but unharmed. When a few more moments passed with no ill effects, Myn began to edge closer to the water. She touched the surface and leapt back at the sudden cool feeling. After building courage again, she ventured back to the water's edge and dipped in a single foot. It had no sooner broken the surface than Myranda and Deacon suddenly jerked beneath the surface.

  Myn sprang backward. When her friends didn't reappear, she panicked, finally taking to the air and gliding across the top of the water. She could see the two humans streaking along the bottom of the lake, being dragged by the mermaid from the day before. When the center of the lake had been reached the water creature touched her pendant and the pair of humans dropped to the lake floor.

  "Why did you do that!?" Myranda scolded.

  "Well, you were just standing in the water. There is only so much daylight, we've got to use every drop of it," Calypso said.

  "But Myn was just starting to trust me that the water was safe. You may as well be a sea monster, pulling us under like that. I promised her that nothing would happen!" Myranda said.

  "I think she knows nothing is wrong. Look," Calypso said, pointing up to the surface.

  Myranda looked up. Through the rippling surface they could see Myn skimming just above, looking down longingly.

  "Oh, drat. My potatoes," Deacon said, realizing too late that the pair he had brought along as anticipated rewards for good behavior floated to the surface.

  Myn skillfully snatched them.

  "You didn't earn those!" he cried after her.

  "She'll get tired and land eventually. Now, before we get too deep into our studies, I think that we three are long overdue for a chat. Learning magic is a fine way to spend a day, but a good conversation is food for the soul. I find that after a spirited exchange, I am far more prepared to do my casting, and I think you will feel the same. So, where to begin? Have you any questions for me?" Calypso asked.

  "Well, I had been wondering . . ." Myranda said, looking worriedly at Myn as she made another pass.

  "Yes, what is it?" Calypso asked.

  "How exactly did you get here? I know that the rest of you were either born here, or entered through the cave. You couldn't have," Myranda said.

  "Oh, couldn't I? You are no doubt aware that the cave is mostly filled with water for the vast majority of the year. While it is draining, some of the water finds its way to the mouth of the cave in the form of a stream. Most filters through a honeycomb of tunnels and caverns that are full of water year round. At least one such cave connects with the ocean on the landward side of a very treacherous rock formation that runs nearly the entire coast.

  "I was busy exploring said cave and I found my way up into the then-flooded main section. It didn't stay flooded long enough for me to find my way out again. As the water drained away, I was forced further and further along until I slipped into that smooth little bowl the waterfall has carved out. To my surprise, I was helped to this lovely little lake and here I have lived, quite happily, ever since. I can't say I don't miss the other merfolk,
but I wouldn't trade all that I have learned and seen here for anything," she said.

  "Really? Remarkable," Myranda said.

  "Oh, but I always do the talking. I can hear my own voice anytime. Let's hear about you!" Calypso said.

  Myranda proceeded to retell the story of her life for what seemed like the hundredth time since her arrival. Deacon continually reached for his book to find his notes on the subject. Even in the water, he kept it by his side, casting a half-dozen spells to protect it from any damage it might take for the time being. When the tale worked its way to her arrival, Deacon did more telling than she, so excited was he. It was just as well. Myranda could never manage to tell of her own accomplishments without feeling she was boasting. Deacon concluded with a very detailed account of the Hollow incident.

  "Hollow. Quite a creepy fellow. Come here, Myranda. Let us see this mark of yours," the mermaid said.

  Myranda showed the thin white scar that had begun this bizarre journey of hers.

  "Ah. Yes. It is just as I had imagined it. Simple, elegant. The work of the spirits--or the gods. Tell me, Deacon, do we know yet what it means that this girl has the mark, but was not born with it?" she asked.

  "There were a number of phrases we've been able to translate from Hollow's latest speech that seem to allude to it," Deacon said, flipping to a seemingly random page in the book. "Yes, right here. ‘A mark both fresh and faded belongs to the carpenter'; 'A label of white adorns that which will see each.' Things of that nature."

  "I see; well, that certainly answers that." Calypso snorted. "Honestly. The spirits could be a bit more straightforward in their messages. If they truly wanted us to know what they were saying, they would say it more clearly. Well, regardless of what that mark means, we had best be sure you become what you are capable of. Let us begin the lesson," Calypso decided.

  The routine that formed that day would prove to make the next two weeks the most pleasant since Myranda's arrival. Aside from having to practically plead with Myn for permission to enter the water each day, and the inevitable pranks that Calypso would play, she had a glorious time. In the early lessons, Deacon and Calypso were equally involved in teaching her--though, as the days progressed, Calypso allowed Deacon to do as he pleased, preferring to watch and offer comments where needed.