Diary of a Conjurer

by D. L. Gardner

  He was a young man, but older than Meneka, about Kaempie’s age, well-built, tan, with hair the color of the sand. He was dressed in woven pants.

  “If you’re hungry, follow me,” he said.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Eric. You’ll come to my home and I’ll feed you, but you aren’t trusted here, you know. Wizards and sorceresses have no name for themselves among us.”

  Meneka shrugged. Who says I want to be trusted here? That’d mean I’m accepted, and then I’d be one of you. I should stoop so low.

  “Just hungry.”

  Eric paused for a moment, his blue eyes studying the wizard.

  Maybe he thinks I’ll promise to move on after he feeds me. But I won’t. I’ll stay. These natives can learn a thing or two from me.

  “Just hungry,” Meneka repeated more forcefully. Eric turned and led him up the bank and into the village.

  Eric

  I don’t care how important you think you are, it’s rude to sit and watch someone eat. Not to mention feeding your guest on the floor while holding a plate on his lap. Haven’t you people heard of tables?

  Meneka glanced up at Eric. Not once had the young man’s eyes shifted. Now that Meneka was chewing his last bite, the stare felt more intrusive than ever. Meneka scowled. “The food is pretty good. Not the best. But it serves its purpose.”

  “You’re lucky you have food.”

  Meneka shrugged. “I could’ve found my own. I just figured since your archers scared the moonbeams out of my friend on the boat, which then caused me to fall overboard, you at least owed me a meal.

  “Is that the way Taikans think?”

  “It is. And we have manners. And intelligence.”

  Eric raised an eyebrow.

  “And magic.”

  “I’m not afraid of your magic,” Eric said.

  “You should be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because with one blink of an eye, I could destroy you.”

  Eric didn’t seem impressed so Meneka flicked his finger. It wasn’t a real snake that appeared in his hands. He hadn’t perfected that spell yet. But it looked real enough to fool Eric. The young man jumped to his feet and backed away. Meneka folded his hands over the serpent and it disappeared.

  “Why are you here? What do you want with us?” Eric asked.

  “We have a common enemy,” Meneka began, his tongue pushed up against his cheek as he pondered what to say. Meneka set his plate on the ground and scooted up against the driftwood wall attempting to find some comfort on the rough ground. Eric stood near the entrance, mistrusting eyes fixed on the conjurer. “So I’m here to help you stand against her.”

  “She’s not coming back. She’s been defeated.”

  “Is that right?” The conjurer picked at his teeth with his fingernail. “What if I told you I know better?”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know that every time Hacatine has a harvest, her power escalates. After the last invasion, there were a score of wizards for her to come home to. Today, there are only four left. I’m one of them. So you see, she’s gained quite a bit more force since the last time she visited your little community. Right now, she believes the world is at her fingertips. Starting with you.”

  The one room shelter was silent as they stared at one another.

  “Besides, I can also help you make a better life for yourself.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with our life.”

  “Oh? How strong are these homes of yours?” he peered up at the holes above his head where the matting fell short. “I can show you how to build a house so strong that when the winds of the north blow against Hacatine, you won’t have to hide in the caves on the mountain. That is where you go, isn’t it?”

  Meneka had heard the stories of Hacatine’s invasions. Accounts of the battles were taught to Taikan children in school. The wicked queen mocked the natives for their cowardice behavior. Whenever she attacked, the people would run to the nearby mountain and hide in caves. If it hadn’t been for the torrential storms that would come against her, Hacatine would be reigning over this quaint little town, enjoying the wealth of its fishing industry and making slaves of its people.

  “I’m not the one to discuss this with you. I only offered my home as a place for you to rest, not to engage in battle plans.”

  “Then tell someone with a little more authority that I have a deal to make them.”

  Eric left. When he did, Meneka inspected the shelter. It was vacant of any furniture, floor mats or basins, a far cry from the marble halls and exquisite architecture of Taikus. These people were unclean, it seemed, although perhaps they did their bathing on the beach. But still, they weren’t ruled by an evil queen that threatened his life, and for that, Meneka was glad he was here.

  I wish Kaempie were with me. Maybe. The responsibility of negotiating with these people would have been on his shoulders. Still, I don’t see eye to eye with Kaempie so maybe I’m better off. At least alone, I’ll have some control.

  Now that he was protected from the elements, he took off his wet shirt and threw it over a stub on a pole. Though elementary in its structure, the shelter offered Meneka a safe place to lay his head. The night in the skiff had been wearisome, his napping light. It didn’t take him long to doze into a dreamless sleep.

  Fair Trade

  It was mid-day when Eric stepped inside with three elders at his heels. Their entrance startled the conjurer awake, and Meneka jumped to his feet. Though he didn’t want to seem anxious, their age and size humbled him.

  “Eric says you have something to tell us,” the eldest spoke, his face stern.

  Meneka cleared his throat and gained his composure quickly. “I can teach you how to build a yurt.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes. Oh to be so blunt! Wake up Meneka.

  “A yurt?”

  Have you no knowledge of anything beyond your own shores? he thought, but cleared his throat instead. “A structure that would withstand the winds when they blow against the wicked queen.”

  The three exchanged glances.

  “Why would you help us do that? You’re a Taikan.” They studied him intently, their eyes resembled the tips of blue arrows aimed at his head.

  “There are some things going on in Taikus that you don’t know about. My friend and I are running from Hacatine.” I hope I’m not telling too much. “A brutal witch.”

  “We know of her. She’s attacked us before.”

  “Then you know of her tyranny? She has killed almost all of the wizards on the island, stripping them of their power.”

  “Why?” one of the elder’s asked. “Why would she destroy her own kind?”

  “Because when she does, her magical abilities multiply.”

  The smell of heated bodies permeated the room as the men looked at one another. Meneka thought about pushing past them into the fresh air outside, but he refrained. This was a crucial moment. They were on the verge of a decision.

  “So if you help us build one of these…what did you call it? Yurt? What good is it going to do you?” one of the men inquired.

  Meneka thought for a moment. He didn’t dare tell them he wanted to gain their reverence, nor would it be wise to have them think he’d use them as pawns in his revenge against Hacatine. No. He’d have to convince them of some charitable act. “Your people don’t need to be running to the hills every time the witch attacks. Reinforce the power of the winds by standing firm against her. Don’t let her manipulate you. I’ve seen how she operates, how she maims and kills. You need a little pride.”

  The men shifted their stance.

  Rude, Meneka. “What I mean to say is you’re a strong people. You shouldn’t run from her.”

  He moved past the three, desperate for air, and stepped outside into the sunshine.

  The elders followed him out the door. “All right then, tell us more.”

  Meneka shrugged. “That’s it. I’ll help you build some decent housing.”

 
; “In exchange for what?”

  Meneka thought for a moment. If he asked for anything in return, anything, he’d be lowering his highly sophisticated self to their level.

  “I just want to make sure your village is safe from the sorceress queen. After that, it’s up to you.”

  “What’s this going to entail?”

  Meneka shrugged. “Maybe five hours of labor at the most. Yurts aren’t too much different than what you have here. Just a little rearranging of the walls, really.” He shook one of the poles of the shelter he had exited. Though it seemed sturdy enough in fair weather, it wouldn’t hold a storm. Stories of Hacatine’s battles followed the queen back to Taikus and everyone would laugh at how easily the village was destroyed whenever it was attacked.

  “You should put this stranger to work,” one of the men said.

  “Let our boys help him. It’ll be good for them. The nets are clean, and they’ve nothing but idle time right now.”

  The elder turned to Meneka. “I’m not so sure of your motives. But if you have some technology from your homeland that you can share, then go ahead and show us. Keep in mind, though, that you are being watched.”

  Meneka nodded holding back his grin. Good. I want you to watch me.

  “Eric! Arrange a work party and follow this boy’s instructions. See if indeed he can build a wind-worthy structure. We’ve nothing to lose from it.”

  “And everything to gain,” Meneka added as the three men turned and walked back to the beach.

  Eric summoned a group of boys his age, and they were soon dismantling a few of the shelters that stood on higher ground, working diligently under Meneka’s supervision. They notched poles together, tied them with lacing, and arranged the ‘walls’ in a circle. Meneka built rings with woven reeds that the upper tips of the poles slipped into. The rings were erected above the center of the circles, and supported with more poles. The frames of the yurts were then covered with woven mats made from reeds and grass. At the end of the day, they had built enough yurts to shelter a hundred people easily. More if there were an emergency.

  “Back home, we cover them with hides. But this will do for now.” Meneka smiled with a sense of accomplishment as he glanced at Eric. Tomorrow, families would move into their new homes. This is probably the best thing I’ve ever done. The two stood admiring their work in the light of the setting sun. But when Eric nudged Meneka and pointed out across the bay, the conjurer froze.

  It started as a tiny glow against the southwestern sky, but quickly burst into a streak of red. The forest on the southern shore was aflame. Black smoke billowed into the heavens covering the earth in darkness. Already, Meneka could smell the pine and fir that was being consumed as the salty breeze carried the residue across the waters.

  Alcove Forest was on fire.

  There was no lightning. The day had been clear and cool. This fire was not made by natural causes. Meneka could only guess that Hacatine had a hand in it.

  Fear became a lump in his throat. He wasn’t safe. No one was safe. Whether or not Silvio and Reuben survived her attack, he may never know. But he could be certain of one thing. If she had captured or killed those two wizards, she’d be on his trail soon.

  Sails in the Night

  Meneka stayed up all night watching the dark waters. Fog and smoke hovered over the bay, but he could still see the stars reflected in the tide.

  What happened to Kaempie? Why doesn’t he show up here and help us out?

  Some of those shimmering reflections on the water were moving. They weren’t stars at all. Meneka knew that. They were ships, and most likely Hacatine’s ships. If Meneka didn’t do something fantastic, she’d invade this village looking for him. And these people would probably hand him over to her.

  Where are the winds when you need them?

  Meneka glanced up at the mountain that towered over the village behind him. Eerily glowing in the starlight, its peaks appeared like ghostly hands caressing a dimly lit candle.

  Why should he let the murderess snuff out his life when he had this whole land at his command?

  Meneka cupped his hands and concentrated on the power that pulsated beneath the flesh of his fingers. Even if he couldn’t make a serpent come to life, with the right maneuvering, he could fool the villagers into thinking the vision was real. He breathed into his hands, closed his eyes, and imagined a most horrendous creature. Eyes of marble hollowed into a skull of dark shadows, coated with scales its pointed fangs arched dangerously over its mouth. A gilded body sweeping into a tail of thick mass as heavy as lead.

  “Yes. The essence of wickedness! This is what I think of you, Hacatine. And you won’t own these people. I will. They will hate you and love me. They’ll never be your slaves, but they’ll be my loyal subjects,” he whispered.

  He held the fireball for a long moment, soaking in the warmth it churned, and then tucked it into his shirt. Content that his plan was going to work, he nestled in the sand under the stars and fell asleep.

  The wind picked up in the night. By dawn, the tide was high, and breakers broke the silence of the morning, pounding on the beach like explosions of thunder.

  The ships were offshore, but the gale that stirred held them back. Meneka stood and watched as the villagers ran in panic. Lines of people streamed toward the mountain. Meneka’s eyes rested on the yurts they had erected the day before. They stood firm, barely wavering. Their matted walls flapped quietly.

  “Eric,” he called as he spotted his friend. “Send them into the yurts!”

  “Hold up!” Eric called out. It took a moment for Eric to redirect the people, but soon they turned back. Many of the men eyed him suspiciously as they passed, but Meneka nodded in confidence at those who peered. “It’s fine. The yurts will hold. You’ll be fine.”

  When the people were sheltered, Meneka walked to the beach where the abandoned fishing boats tossed on the waves. He could see Hacatine’s ship quite plainly. There was no mistaking that vessel, so appropriately named The Intruder. The ship hadn’t always belonged to the sorceress, but was once owned by the wizard king Bolero before the uprising. Meneka’s eyes rested on the beak head as the boat rocked on the water. A young maiden carved from a lush red wood, common in the forests of Taikus, clung to the bow as though the ship was her cargo. Meneka knew the vessel well, for he came from a family of seafarers who had sailed with the king long ago.

  Thoughts of his father made Meneka’s heart beat hard, and he felt the ball of fire warming his chest. The heat of his anger satisfied him as he watched the sails tear and the ship come dangerously close to the rocky cliffs.

  “Douse the sails.” A woman’s voice shouted above the whistle of the wind and then he saw the silver hair and black costume of the queen. She stood at the helm, shouting orders to her warriors. No wizard was on that ship, only Hacatine’s army of sorceresses. Men were no longer able to sail from Taikus, for those that had been spared life were disabled of their senses.

  “Take your world of sorcery and lack of wisdom, and drown.”

  She must have seen him, for Hacatine now had a spyglass in her hand. Meneka moved to higher ground, hoping she would see who it was that destroyed her.

  There was no sun, but a flash came from her hands regardless. The dagger. With the swelling of the sea, a serpent appeared. Meneka should have known she’d use her sea slaves. This serpent, unlike the one tucked secretly in his shirt, was real. As far as he knew, sea serpents couldn’t leave the water. Meneka ran inland, past the yurts, toward even higher ground.

  The wind had strengthened, bringing rain that stung as it slapped against his body. His hair, now dripping, clung to his face as he slipped on the muddy trail toward the peaks. If he hadn’t looked over his shoulder, he wouldn’t have seen the serpent break the surface and take to the air like a giant condor. He never expected wings on one of those slimy beasts.

  The wind swirled like a cone and lifted the serpent into the air. Sounds of terror came from the yurts. The people watched fro
m the doors and windows of their yurts, crying out in panic.

  “This is it. This is my time to shine,” Meneka said to himself.

  “Come in here, fool,” someone from the yurt called out to him. Meneka shook his head.

  “I’ll save you. Have no fear,” he answered. Working his way toward the mountain peak he stumbled over rocks, keeping one hand tucked in his shirt caressing the fireball as if it were the very heartbeat of his life. Glancing anxiously at the sky, he studied the funnel that carried the serpent. The storm moved violently toward the mountain, and Meneka followed it.

  Only once did his eyes scan the sea far below. Pounding rain made it almost impossible to see Hacatine’s ships, but the sound of splintering wood cracking against the rocks confirmed their doom. Longboats were already drifting over the white caps away from the wreckage.

  He climbed to a ledge in view of the yurts and balanced himself against the wind.

  The dragon spun atop the funnel cloud directly overhead. Meneka calculated the pattern and then ripped his shirt off and threw it on the ground, embracing the fireball with both hands. Aware of the native eyes on him from below, he released his trickery. Fire flew into the clouds, disappearing for only a moment and then appeared as a monster fiercer than Hacatine’s winged serpent, the two seemingly engaged in a battle. Thrilled, Meneka laughed and climbed higher. He would meet the dueling dragons on the peak and retrieve his work of art.

  ***

  Eric sat on the rock by the sea squinting at the setting sun. The fingers of his young grandchild combed his beard gently. “And that’s the story. I swear it’s true. My sight fades now, but I could see just as fine as you back in those days.”

  “But what happened to him after he reached the mountain, grandpapa?”

  The old man closed his eyes, bringing the memory to mind. He breathed in the calm of the salty sea breeze. A gull called overhead.

  “Why, the moment Meneka reached the mountaintop, the battling monsters fell like a comet from the sky. The fire of Meneka’s dragon had all but consumed the winged sea serpent. At that very moment, thunder rattled the Earth, and the brightest bolt of lightning anyone had ever seen struck them all. Do you see that peak up there, standing tall like a pillar, split with black coal down the center?”