Seeker of Magic

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Have a date,” Zarnoc said, handing her the bowl of brown fruit. He laughed as Taliesin looked amazed; it tasted like honey. “I have a few tricks up my sleeves you haven’t seen.”

  Even Jaelle managed to smile. Finding himself surrounded by three grateful females, Zarnoc was in his element and started to show off. He snapped his fingers and candles appeared on the table, along with pink lilies floating in a bowl of water. Another snap, and a pile of fudge appeared on a plate. “No calories there,” Zarnoc said, “but it tastes just like chocolate, so eat as much as you want.” Each girl grabbed a piece. A third snap and a bowl of green apples, round and shiny, appeared. “It’s real fruit. I took a bag from Xander. Try giving them to the horses, Rook; you seem full of energy tonight.”

  Taliesin took the dagger and sliced one up while the Erindor boy dashed to the horses and mule to give each a green apple. She had a sudden hankering for a chunk of yellow cheese, but none appeared; the wizard couldn’t create real cheese out of thin air. Zarnoc sighed heavily, as if zapped of his last ounce of magic, leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and stuck his lit pipe in the corner of his mouth.

  “Wolfgar’s men, reinforced by tribesman they’d met along the way, caught Xander and Roland by surprise, as you’re aware,” Zarnoc said. “I had nothing to do with them overwhelming the Eagle legionnaires, though I might have helped by not setting enchantments to protect their camp. Sir Roland and Master Xander fought side by side, rallying the men for a last stand. Both survived and gave chase to the Wolfmen. They may still be chasing them, all the way to the mountains, right where we are headed.” He snorted and smoke blew out his nostrils, creating a dragon that drifted away on the breeze as he continued his story.

  “Master Xander, you see, is not human, nor is his father’s line. They are creatures so foul they have no name, nor do they age as we do. By appearance, he looks like a strange boy, for that is how he wishes to be seen. The Aladorius family has been in power a very long time, and father, son, and mother alike take on the forms of any human they wish, just to hide how long they’ve been alive. When Lorians lived in the Salayen Desert, when it was green and wet, we fairy folk feared the Aladorius, for they crept out of the sea on their bellies and took human form to live among men. Korax was a Lorian, did you know? He couldn’t very well call his clan the Fairy Clan, now could he? But the raven, ah, that was his favorite bird. He knew Arundel and Lykus, too, and they each have been alive for more than a thousand years. Why Arundel picked the eagle and not a sea serpent is beyond me. Lykus was cursed by Korax for a thing I dare not mention, and the wolf was his chosen clan name. Sadly, my race died out when Korax died, yet those other two creatures, Arundel and Lykus, made certain their clans prospered.” He winked at Taliesin, puffing on his pipe. “It’s but a story, but there is truth to be found in my words.”

  “Grudge was not harmed?” Wren spoke, her violet eyes conveying her fondness for the knight while the others, even Taliesin, felt only betrayal. “I do not forget the kindness he’s shown me in the past. He kept me from harm when Rook and Hawk were away at market. Men can be cruel. But not Grudge. Not Roland.”

  “The man is the same regardless of his name,” Zarnoc said. He took a puff on his pipe. “Sir Roland was magnificent in battle. That axe of his, Moonbane, took many lives before Captain Wolfgar took tail and ran.”

  “I wish the Shan had given me a magical weapon,” Hawk said, finishing the last of the eel. “How many have we ridden past without picking up, Taliesin? You said there were several stars on that map between here and the cave, and each represents a magic item.”

  The wizard shivered from head to toe. “Stopping for trinkets is the best way to be captured by the enemy, young Hawk. None of you seems to realize the Eagle heir is a dangerous adversary, perhaps more so than Captain Wolfgar. One little mistake on our part and Xander will take full advantage. Be thankful Taliesin had the good sense to get you out of the Eagle camp, or you’d each be chained to the foot of Xander’s bed each night. Only the gods know what he had in store for you girls and Rook.”

  Rook whipped his head around and his long dreadlocks swung forward. “Do I understand you correctly?” he said. “Xander summoned us to his tent to be his sex slaves? I once killed a man who laid hands on me when I was but a boy, something my father pretended did not happen in his own house. I wish nothing but death and sorrow for those of the House of Fakar and the Eagle Clan.” He stood up and upset his glass, a temper upon him that none had ever seen. “It was easier when I pretended I heard nothing and said nothing. Some memories are best forgotten—a lesson you should learn, Raven Mistress. Stop seeking the truth about your father’s death, for when you get to the bottom, you will only find a pit of vipers.” He grabbed his spear off the table and stormed away, heading around the pool to seek solace in his own company.

  “I should go to him,” Wren said, tears streaming down her face.

  “Leave him be, child,” Zarnoc said, cautioning her. “Rook has many ghosts that haunt his mind. It’s a lonely place, being lost in one’s thoughts, but if he’s to heal and love you, Wren, as a whole man and not a broken one, then the boy must come to terms with his past. Your coddling him won’t help, so let him be.”

  Taliesin watched the wizard blow smoke rings into the night sky. Wren wiped her cheeks and smiled when the smoke turned into a winged horse that flew off into the night.

  “Zarnoc, explain how I restored Moonbane’s powers,” Taliesin said. “You said your powers are stronger, too. Both Wren and Jaelle have special gifts. Yet, Wren has not had had any recent visions, nor is Jaelle able to accurately predict our future with her cards. I mean no offense, Jaelle, to you or to Wren. I’m simply curious how this all works.”

  “You’re a sha’tar,” Zarnoc said. “It’s not that hard to understand. When you met me, I wasn’t able to use my magic to catch a rabbit, and relied on Ginger to do that for me. I survived by doing things the old-fashioned way. As a sha’tar, your gift is the ability to attract magic, to shape it, to mold it, and to restore it, if need be, simply by being near it. It’s the same for magical items or magic users or those with special gifts like Wren and Jaelle. Moonbane was dormant, but you awoke its powers, as you have done for Wolf Killer. All of us will benefit if we remain near you.”

  Taliesin wrinkled her brow. “But Wolf Killer is just a silver sword.”

  “Wolf Killer has magic,” Zarnoc replied, with enthusiasm. “Never doubt that, nor doubt your own natural gifts. You don’t have to touch a magical item or magic user to give them a little energy boost, my dear. Because of you, I am more powerful than I have been in centuries; and so, it seems, is Master Xander, for he is a sorcerer, just like his father. Do you think Xander came through the desert with such ease because he and his men ride sturdy horses? Not at all. Xander used magic to help on their journey. No doubt Wren and Jaelle will grow in strength as well. It just takes time.”

  “Xander is not a knight? I thought he was,” Hawk said. “I mean, he wears armor.”

  “A plow horse can be dressed in armor, but that doesn’t make it a knight.” Zarnoc emptied his pipe, refilled it out of thin air with a leaf that smelled like pine, lit it with the tip of his finger, and smoked contentedly. “I’ve been thinking about what we’re doing, and perhaps being less involved is the answer. Why place ourselves in danger when we could go north to Skarda and live among the barbarians? No one ever goes there, and we could have a quiet, happy life herding sheep. Or, maybe, we can all seek passage on a ship to some faraway place like the realm of Shinar, a land where women warriors rule, found far to the west.”

  “I’ve always dreamed of being a captain of my own ship,” Hawk said. “But I also never run from a fight, and this is one that will follow us no matter where we go. Besides, both you and Taliesin are magic users, and I heard they don’t allow magic in Skarda.”

  “Ever been there?” Zarnoc asked, blowing smoke rings. Hawk, annoyed, waved his hands to turn the cloud in another
direction. “No, I didn’t think you had. Talas Kull isn’t quite as awful as they say he is. I believe he has a nasty reputation for beheading trespassers simply to keep Scrydon and Bavol from encroaching on their lands.”

  “Well, if the barbarians don’t like magic, then we don’t need to go there,” Hawk said. “I don’t like the snow or mountains; Skarda is the last place I would go.”

  Jaelle rose from the table, a glass of wine in hand, and made herself comfortable on the rugs and pillows next to the table. While continuing to mutter about Skarda, and why it was a wonderful place, Zarnoc drifted toward the gypsy girl and curled between the pillows to quietly smoke his pipe. Taliesin, Wren, and Hawk joined them.

  “How is Tamal? Is he safe?” Jaelle asked. Her voice quivered with emotion. “Please tell me he’s safe? And Harmattan? He may be the youngest Nova brother, but he’s very brave. Simoon is too proud to notice anyone but Simoon, and Khamsin and Sirocco always try to take the credit, when it’s Harmattan who works the hardest. I worry about them all.”

  “I assure you they are all quite fine. Tamal fought as a lion, by the way,” Zarnoc said. “Harmattan is fierce, yes, and a good fighter; Simoom, Khamsin, and Sirocco have noticed. The Nova brothers and Tamal have blossomed under Roland’s guidance. You don’t need to worry about them, Jaelle. Sir Roland will keep them all safe and they, in turn, look after him. A very fine fit, if you ask me, and you did. They’ll join us as soon as they can.”

  Jaelle sighed with relief. “Good. Because we won’t get very far now I’m without a horse,” she said. “Riding double will wear out the horses in this heat, and your poor little mule is burdened enough without me riding behind you.”

  A grin wrinkled the white-bearded sorcerer’s face. “Have you ever ridden a horse with wings, my dear?” He laughed at their startled expressions. “If any of you carry a feather, I should be able to cast a spell.”

  “Wings?” Jaelle let out a loud laugh. Her entire demeanor altered, the idea ending her worry about the men-folk, and her sorrow over the loss of Durell. She sat straighter and clapped her hands in excitement. “I have always wanted to ride a horse with wings!”

  A loud commotion from the direction Rook had taken brought Taliesin to her feet, and she’d drawn her silver sword before her companions realized there was trouble. Rook shouted and ran around the pool, splashing in water in his haste to reach the tent. Zarnoc remained on the pillows and smoked his pipe, while the others drew their weapons and stood like a wall in front of the tent. The grunting of camels and the shouts of men preceded the appearance of the riders, who were heading straight for the oasis.

  “It’s the Djaran!” Jaelle and Hawk shouted in unison. They exchanged a quick glance and drew their weapons, ready to fight the marauders.

  “Everyone calms down,” Zarnoc said, waving his hands as he rose. “It is not quite the raiding party that you all imagine. We’ll see if it’s worse or better.”

  The nomads rode to the water, dismounted, and allowed their mounts to drink, ignoring the small group. The desert men, their faces painted with curious black designs, wore spiked helmets and black leather breastplates over bright red robes. They rode with Maldavian soldiers, royal guards in dark-blue tunics and gold cloaks, under Prince Sertorius’ lion banner, carried by Sir Morgrave, recognizable by his unique moustache with its curled ends. Sir Barstow sported a bandage tied around his head. More knights, followed by squires and servants that numbered no more than twenty, came riding to the pond and eased out of the saddle as their horses drank. Last to appear was Prince Sertorius, riding between two of his knights. The Djarans parted to allow the prince space to ride to the water. Taliesin and her companions watched from the tent as the dark-haired man dismounted, gave the reins to a squire, and accompanied by four of his knights, rounded the pool without pausing to drink, and headed straight for the tent.

  “What have we here?” Sertorius called out, in a friendly voice. “Why, it’s the last of the Raven Clan and the old Pelekus wizard.” He walked to where Taliesin stood. “Have no fear. We mean you no harm, Rosamond Mandrake. I feel like such a fool for not recognizing you, but you have grown quite a bit since we last met. Please, forgive an old friend; our reunion is long overdue.” He reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Have you nothing to say to the castle-yard bully? Not even about the locket I stole and gave to another girl?

  Taliesin caught her breath. “I…I can’t believe you remember me.”

  “Of course I do,” he said.

  The prince gave a knowing smile and placed her hand over his heart and his dark-blue eyes glimmered with unshed tears. Here she’d thought when the prince found her he would kill her, and now he kissed her hand and called her “friend.” Sertorius’ knights paid them no attention; they obviously meant to share the oasis for the night, and went about their business, showing no interest or hostility, though it hardly eased Taliesin’s concern their whereabouts had been discovered.

  “You intend to share the oasis with us?” Taliesin asked.

  “If you don’t mind,” he said. “I suppose you’re wondering how I recognize you. I must admit the Djaran told me about you and your friends. They are the best when it comes to gathering information, and they made it a point to find out who you are.”

  “That’s strange,” she said. “No one knows I am John Mandrake’s daughter; I use the name Taliesin now. I’ve been very careful to hide my identity.”

  “Strangers don’t frequent the caravan trails. The nomads have been following you for some time. So have we, for that matter,” Sertorius said. “I know you won’t believe me, but I have always wondered what happened to you since the day you vanished from Padama. When I heard a sha’tar was found among the Raven Clan, I never suspected it was you. Of course, your father had to be a warlock. I should have suspected it, for John Mandrake had a rare gift for making excellent blades.”

  Zarnoc grumbled under his breath. Taliesin glanced over her shoulder, and saw Jaelle had resumed her seat and now leaned on the pillows and watched intently, while Hawk frowned and put away his weapon. Wren looked visibly shaken by the arrival of the nomads and Maldavian troops.

  “I’ve also heard you have a talent for finding valuable weapons on the battlefield.” Sertorius smiled when Taliesin pulled her hand away. “‘Rosamond’ suits you far better than ‘Taliesin.’ You’re lovelier than I ever imagined. Again, let me apologize for not recognizing the woman from the girl. I feel like a cad and behaved far worse. Let me make it up to you; I can provide you and your friends with supplies and protection for the night. It’s the least I can do for an old friend.”

  A servant walked over to hand a flask of water to Sertorius. He took Taliesin by the arm and sat with her on the pillows. Hawk cleared his throat, annoyed.

  “Allow me to introduce my friends,” Taliesin said. “This is Hawk, Wren, Jaelle, and Zarnoc, who I believe you know. Rook is somewhere around here. Everyone, this is Prince Sertorius Draconus.” Her friends said not a word; Zarnoc merely waved. “If the nomads have told you everything, my lord, then I suspect you know why we’re here.”

  “I do,” Sertorius said. “But I’m on my way to Garridan. We’re not the only ones following you, Rosamond. Master Xander of the Eagle Clan is headed this way. If he knows where you are going, you can be sure he means to join your quest. Xander Arundel is as clever as his father. The Eagle Clan pretends to support my father, but I know they cannot be trusted and secretly conspire with my older brother. That is why I am going to Garridan; to raise an army for my father.”

  “For him or against him?” Hawk asked, butting in.

  Sertorius frowned. “I seem to make your friends uncomfortable,” he said. “Come with me, Rosamond. I have so much to tell you.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I don’t think that young man likes me very much—he hasn’t stopped frowning at me.”

  “Hawk always frowns,” Taliesin said.

  As tents were raised and the horses and camels tethered for th
e night, Taliesin and Sertorius walked through the camp, piquing the interest of the knights as well as the nomads. They came around to the far side of the oasis, where Taliesin leaned against a palm tree and spotted Rook making his way toward their friends. Sertorius paused to look for something he must have dropped, and with a sigh, finally pulled a white flower from a cactus and handed it to her, grinning widely. She took it, took a whiff, found it fragrant, and placed it in her hair, wondering why she was reacting like a love-struck girl.

  “You can’t imagine what I’m feeling right now,” Sertorius said, pressing his back against the palm tree. “I gave you another flower, once. Do you remember? I know it has been a long time since we saw one another, Rosamond, but I haven’t forgotten anything. When your father died, you vanished in the night, never to be heard from again.” He turned toward her, and his fingers softly caressed her face. “Rosamond, is it really you or is this a dream brought on by the heat? I feel like a boy again. I am so happy we are reunited. That I still feel the same way about you surprises me, too. But I do care for you; I always have.”

  “So dramatic,” Taliesin said, amused. “You always were, Your Grace.”

  “No, please, call me Sertorius.”

  The prince pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. He was persistent, and she felt his tongue gliding into her mouth as he kissed her with well-practiced skill. She heard a few of his men laughing, and pushed him away, eyes narrowed.

  “Ah, you have reservations about my true feelings,” he said. “It’s natural to be afraid, but I assure you my feelings are sincere, Rosamond. You are so beautiful. Such green eyes, like morning dew on fresh leaves, and hair that reflects the rays of the sun. I had no idea Mandrake’s little daughter, with freckles on her nose and scabs on her knees, would develop into such a fine-looking woman. I hope I don’t disappoint you—some say I am quite good-looking.”