"A visit with you sounds delightful, but I still must refuse. Thank you very much for an offer I am sure you have extended to few men."
"Isn't it only hermits who will refuse an invitation to a nymph's tree?"
"Priests too, my daughter," said Joachim gently.
"And you aren't even in love with anyone," she said thoughtfully.
"I have taken an oath to forsake all sins of the flesh."
Her eyes danced again. "But Saint Eusebius explained that to me! Because I am not human, I have not fallen, and therefore cannot sin any more than I can be saved."
It sounded to me as though she had a point. But the chaplain did not hesitate.
"You cannot sin, but I can." She nodded slowly but looked puzzled again. Joachim paused and then asked what I would have asked the nymph myself if there had been the slightest indication she would listen to anyone but him. "Is there a way you can help us catch the inhuman monster that is now in the valley?"
She shook her head so hard her hair swung in an arc behind her. "The magical creature that broke these branches? No! Trees I know, and hermits, and wizards, and now priests. But I do not know inhuman monsters." She leaped up and caught a branch. But just before she swung up and out of sight, she leaned forward, kissed Joachim lightly on the forehead, then was gone.
I watched the three priests fighting back a number of things they might have said. Disconcerting as they clearly found the bishop's representative, they just as clearly did not dare irritate him.
"Shall we join the hermit up at the shrine?" he said to them, perfectly soberly.
If they had business at the shrine, I thought, squaring my shoulders, I had business with an inhuman monster which the wood nymph might not know but my predecessor knew all too well.
The old wizard was still standing by the cave entrance. "Was your creature drawn here by the magic forces of the valley, Master?" I asked. I didn't tell him he had just missed the wood nymph, not wanting him as well as Evrard jealous of a priest with no interest in what she offered.
"There certainly are magical forces here, as I thought you knew," he said grumpily. "In most of the western kingdoms the forces that created the world in the first place are not very evident, unless wielded by a wizard. But in a few places they're still very strong: the northern land of wild magic especially, but also in a few pockets like this valley. That's why the wood nymph is here. And that's why I thought I'd better come here when my creature got loose."
Or you turned it loose, I thought. Aloud I said, "I know all about the magical forces here. They've kept me here for two days."
"Don't blame it on ‘magical forces,’" said the old wizard with a snort. "A wizard may find the raw power of magic appealing or seductive, but this valley couldn't hold you against your will. You were just having too much fun with the wood nymph.
"The magical forces of the valley may make my creature a little harder to catch," he went on. "Did you see how fast it could run? Even my magic wouldn't give it that kind of speed anywhere else," he added regretfully.
This, I thought gloomily, is exactly what I needed to hear: first my predecessor had made a creature almost too powerful for his own magic, and certainly much stronger than either Evrard's or mine, and now its strength was increased dramatically.
"I'd better go see if I can find some herbs," said the old wizard. "I'll need them for my binding spell. You and the duchess's wizard could try putting some kind of barricade across the opening to the cave. I don't believe my creature will try to come out again during the day, after we all frightened it, but it might after dark. I'd ask you to help me, but you wouldn't recognize the right herbs."
His chief concern, I thought as I watched him stump off, was that we might have "frightened" his creature! This left it all up to Evrard and me—which meant, I was afraid, me.
Although I called the old wizard Master, he was not my real master. If I thought of anyone in the paternal role in which Joachim put his bishop, it was the Master of the wizards' school, who had been willing to take on—and even keep—a young man who must have been a very unpromising wizardry student. Since my own parents had died when I was young, the white-haired Master of the school had been the closest I had had to a father.
Yet in the two years I had been in Yurt, I had come to admire my predecessor, in spite of his crankiness. And I had certainly learned a tremendous amount from him, not just the herbal magic they did not teach at the school, but, partly out of shame at his example, a lot of the school magic I had not learned properly the first time.
And now something had happened to him, whether he had been pushed into unwise new experiments by Evrard's creature, overcome by pride, or (quite unaccountably) made jealous of me. Even aside from catching up to his creature, I knew I had to catch him.
Meanwhile I'd better make sure of my only other ally. "When you and my predecessor followed the monster into the cave," I asked Evrard, "how far back did you pursue it?"
"Not far. He made a light on the end of his staff. It wasn't very bright, but better than I could do and enough for us to see. We got back to where the cave widened, the room that Nimrod mentioned—or, rather, Prince Ascelin. It's an enormous room, and a lot of tunnels open off it. The monster must have taken one of them. I'm afraid, like the prince, we fell into the river on the way back out."
"I don't trust the old wizard," I said, "not his motivations, not even his magic. Catching this monster is going to be up to you and me."
"Oh, please, Daimbert!" cried Evrard. "Let me catch it myself! Don't you see, it's my last chance to impress the duchess, before she gets fed up with me and sends me back to the City in exchange for a different wizard. And since the monster tried to carry her off, it's my responsibility as ducal wizard to avenge her."
"Don't be silly," I said, feeling that Evrard was more like ten years younger than me rather than two. "Neither one of us could possibly capture it alone. Our only chance is to do it together."
"I guess you're right," said Evrard, but not as though convinced.
He would become convinced soon enough. "First," I said, "it would help if we knew what the monster is made out of. Since this creature is no illusion, it has to be made of something. And it's not sticks this time. Human bones, maybe?" In spite of keeping my voice remarkably calm, I could feel a thin trickle of sweat working its way down my back.
Evrard had clearly never thought about this. Now his eyes grew so wide that white showed all the way around the iris. "But where would he have gotten human bones?"
"That's what I'd like to know," I said grimly. "We've been worrying about the creature killing a person, now that we know it's killed some chickens. But has the old wizard himself already killed someone?"
We both looked involuntarily down the valley where the wizard had gone. I thought I could see him a half mile away, where the valley started to curve, poking about on the river bank.
Evrard hugged himself as though standing in a bitterly cold wind. "But even the wizards trained under the old apprentice system must have taken the oath to help and guide mankind."
"Exactly. And that's why I can't let you even try to go after the monster by yourself."
Evrard shivered again and nodded. His desire to impress the duchess seemed greatly diminished. But then he looked at me with his head cocked to one side, his eyes almost back to normal. "I know what I can do," he said. "Your predecessor had a good idea when he suggested we barricade the cave. I can practice my lifting spells by lifting some rocks to block the opening. Once I have them in place, I'll put a binding spell on them, so that even a monster won't be able to push them aside."
"Good plan," I told him enthusiastically, though I didn't think this would work for long, and there might be other exits to the cave. But it would keep him busy and give me a chance to walk and to think. Anything was better than waiting here, either for inspiration—which seemed increasingly unlikely—or for the old wizard to come back.
V
I jumped up abrupt
ly and started down the valley. It was late afternoon, and a soft white mist had begun to rise. It hung over the river and sent long arms out over the water's grassy verges. As I walked downstream, I went into patches of fog so dense I could barely see ten feet in front of me, and then out again under a clear sky. The limestone formations on the valley walls looked even more like the ruins of old castles than usual.
The old wizard had still not told me why he had made such a creature in the first place, and maybe he didn't know himself. I wished I could get word to the wizards' school, but with the creature actually here I didn't dare leave the valley myself, and even Evrard's spells would be some help if the monster broke out.
I stopped in the middle of a patch of mist and looked around. I had not paid much attention to how far I had walked, but it was hard to tell distances with no landmarks. The only solid points in a white world were the road under my feet and the rushing river to my right. But where was the old wizard?
I came out of the mist again and saw him, standing under a tree, staring off down the valley. Heavy drops of moisture hung from the leaves above his head. He gave a start as I came up beside him. He looked as old as I had ever seen him, his full two hundred and fifty years, and much too weak ever to kill anybody.
"Did you find all the herbs you needed?" I asked.
"Herbs?" he said, as though coming back from a great distance and not sure what I could mean. Then he looked down at his hands, which were clenched around a wad of drooping plants. "Oh, yes." He met my eyes briefly and turned away. "We can return now."
We walked back up the valley without speaking. The fog was growing thicker, so that we would have lost our way if we were not following a clearly marked road. Even the river beside us seemed to be running much more quietly. My predecessor, I thought with a sideways glance at him, might already have lost his way.
When the shape of the trees and clearings was again familiar enough that I knew we were close to the Holy Grove, I tried once more. "Maybe I can help you, Master," I began tentatively. "You know you've taught me a lot of herbal magic. I could help you put the spells together if I knew what you were trying to do. What's driving your creature now, and how can we slow it down?"
"I already told you," he said, but without his normal irritated tone, "that it's the valley itself that's made it move so fast. As to what's driving it, I thought even you could recognize magic."
I kept my temper. "But what kind of magic? What purpose is the creature serving? After all, here in the valley it seized two people within two minutes. Did you make it in order to capture people?"
He looked at me fully for the first time since I had found him on the river bank. "No, that wasn't my purpose. But it does indeed like to put its hands on people." He gave a malevolent chuckle and went on more vigorously. "It certainly wanted to lay hold of Prince Dominic. You should have seen them all trying to get away! But of course, outside this valley, it couldn't run as fast as a horse."
We had stopped walking and were facing each other. I had always assumed he was taller than I and was surprised when I had to incline my head to meet his eyes. "And has it tried to seize you?"
"Yes. That always was a problem. That's why, young whipper-snapper, I needed to give it my full attention the time your young wizard friend tried to let it out."
His magic must have gone even more badly out of control than I had thought if something he had created turned on him. "The great horned rabbits," I said, "dissolved when I put a binding spell on them, or for that matter when they were shot. Is there any similar way we can dissolve your new creature?"
"You and that magic-worker of the duchess's can play children's games with rabbits if you like. This is different."
As I talked to the old wizard, he seemed almost the same as I had always known him—except marginally more civil. The aging, the loss of control over his own magic, I thought, were temporary, passing events. He would be himself for many more years to come, as long as we were able to catch his monster successfully. I wished I believed it.
"I know that a simple binding spell won't dissolve your creature," I tried again, "because I already attempted one without success, but are there other spells that might work?"
"I'm not at all ready to ‘dissolve’ it, as you say. And don't get any bright ideas about trying to transform it into a fuzzy squirrel either; transformations spells won't work on a magical creature, as I hope you know. This is the best thing I've ever made, far better than those illusions that used to impress the royal court over dessert. I've got a spell that will hold it, all right, but it has to be standing still."
The sweat began again running down my back in spite of the cold mist around us. "Is there something from which you made this creature which might help account for its behavior?"
He turned abruptly. "I always did wonder about those bones." And he started up the valley again without giving me a chance to answer.
There was no mist around the Holy Grove, but I did not at first see anyone. But then I spotted the youngest of the priests, talking to an apprentice hermit. The other two priests, the old hermit, and Joachim were in prayer at the shrine. I didn't disturb them but went out of the grove again, following the river upstream. The water seemed much lower than I remembered. I decided to see how Evrard was coming with his lifting spells.
Even at this end of the valley, where the mist did not yet reach, it was rapidly growing dark. The old wizard was outlined against the white of the valley wall, crouching over his herbs. These last two hours, the steep walls had begun to seem the walls of a prison.
I walked toward the mouth of the cave, where I could still see Evrard's flaming red hair in spite of the shadows.
But then there was a deep and hollow boom, a sharp grating of rock on rock, and a giant burst of water shot out from the cliff, propelling him in front of it.
"Evrard!" I shouted. He managed to find the magic to break his fall and landed on the soft ground near me. "What happened?" I cried. "Are you all right?"
"My plan didn't work," he said, dripping wet and in despair. I quickly determined he was more mortified than hurt. "But it seemed like such a good idea!"
"What didn't work?" I demanded.
"Blocking the cave mouth. It might have kept the monster in, but it also kept the river in. But now I find the river was stronger than my rocks!" He shook his head, sending drops of water flying, and started squeezing water from his clothes. "And I'd just gotten dry from falling in earlier."
That explained, then, why the river had seemed so low and quiet the last hour. Obviously if Evrard tried to fill the entire cave mouth with boulders, the force of the river would push them aside. Even a former city boy like me knew something about the power of running water. I was about to try to explain it to him when I saw my predecessor approaching.
He had pulled up his hood so I could not see his face in the shadows, but his voice emerged with its old strength. "Trying to make a noise loud enough to frighten my creature, is that your plan?"
"Well, no, Master," Evrard began. "I didn't think it had ears anyway. And you see—"
The old wizard waved his explanations aside. "I have the right herbs now, and the right spell." I noticed then his fingers glowing with a pale blue light, as though the spell itself was held in his hands. "No more time for nonsense. We're going in after it."
Evrard, who had ducked behind me, pushed himself forward again in spite of obvious reluctance. "We're ready," he said, with a calmness I admired.
"Not you, young whipper-snapper." I could sense Evrard wavering between indignation and relief. "This is a job for the Royal Wizard and me. That is," the old wizard added after a long pause, with unexpected gentleness, "we both think we need someone to stay at the entrance of the cave, to make sure my creature doesn't get past us and get out, and we think you'd be best for the job."
"Of course," said Evrard, still calmly.
"Find Joachim," I said. "He and the other priests are all at the shrine. Tell him we've gone.
"
Evrard patted me surreptitiously on the shoulder as I followed my predecessor toward the dark cave mouth. It felt as though he were saying good-bye.
PART SEVEN - THE CAVE
I
We had to pick our way around several small boulders that now littered the bank, and the limestone at the cave entrance was chipped, but the river flowed as swiftly as before. The evening light was at the point at which one imagines one can still see, but when the old wizard illuminated the silver ball at the end of his staff with magic, it showed how poorly I had been able to see a moment before. His face emerged from the shadow of his hood, looking determined and quite rational.
But his light also made all our surroundings darkly black, though seconds earlier they had only been dim. And where we were going it was black all the time.
"Don't slip," said the old wizard. He bent over and led the way along the narrow ledge that paralleled the river. I scrambled through the cave entrance after him, a hand on the rough wall to keep my balance, trying to find a footing in the crazy patchwork of light and shadows as the soft glow from his staff was repeatedly blocked by his body.
Now that we were in the cave, there could be no return until we found the monster. The prison of the valley seemed wide open in comparison with the pressing walls around me now.
But our cautious, bent advance only continued for two dozen yards. Abruptly the crouching figure before me straightened. "This is as far as the ducal wizard and I got before," he said. I reached cautiously over my head, felt only emptiness, and stood up.
The magic light showed we were in a broad chamber, that would have seemed tall if it had not been so very wide. Near at hand, I could see several tunnels leading away, but farther from us the gravel floor and the smooth ceiling both disappeared into darkness.
After a quick magic probe indicated that the monster was not nearby, I looked at the walls. As Nimrod had said, they were spectacular. The slow dripping of water over the eons had left behind what looked like waterfalls frozen into stone, colored with reds and blues that reflected and shot back the magic light. If the old wizard had told me the walls were covered with precious stones, I would have believed him.
C. Dale Brittain_Wizard of Yurt 02 Page 21