It’s like shooting a bow with my other hand, he laughed to himself.
The moment he made that comparison, his mind drifted again.
He was at the Kaempern camp bracing a red oak bow in between his knees as he tilled the wood, bending and shaving, creating just the right tension at each arc. Satisfied with the graceful curve of the last strung notch, he leaned the bow against the bench next to him and admired it.
And there it was!
The weapon was so vivid that Ivar reached out to touch it, but instead of grabbing hold, his hand passed through. The bow was there, in his memory, but not in reality.
Does this have something to do with Promise’s magic? Did I do something I shouldn’t have when I looked into Promise’s eyes. I saw what she saw in me, but maybe I tapped into her power!
“So that makes two of us with insight now! This should be fun. I’ll be able to see her past, and she mine.” He looked at his hands, now glowing with both green and yellow light. “I like Silvio’s magic better. I can make things really happen with his magic. Wonder if there’s a way to separate the two. Maybe Promise will know.”
Ivar let his eyes rest on the never-ending motion of the sea pounding on the beach. The surf rumbled, and spray misted the air, transforming into fog. Promise, a silhouette against the morning sky, stood in the path of the waves as they broke, the foamy rolls of water splashing around her feet. Ivar watched her for a few moments letting his mind wander, not certain how to handle his dilemma.
Maybe she’s angry. I hope not. I could have been more considerate of her warnings but she sounded so much like Aren. So controlling!
She could be right about using Silvio’s magic for things like food. I know how to forage, and hunt. I’ll make a spear and go fishing later today. That should make her happy. Clams for breakfast!
Geysers sprouted whenever the water receded, and seagulls were digging for them. Ivar jumped up, pleased with his new resolution, and breathed in the salty air that floated on the breeze. Ah . . . the wind! Confirmation! Ivar knelt on the damp stretch of beach, dug, and felt the cool ridged surface of a razor clam in his hand. He was doing the right thing now, using his skills instead of magic to feed himself, and it felt good. Another spout of water popped up from a hole nearby and he moved to it, harvesting another. He worked the beach until he had an armful of clams tucked into the hem of his tunic.
“Look, Promise, breakfast!” he called out, but she was gone. He wasn’t sure why, but suddenly he felt empty, and it wasn’t just that he was hungry. He was alone.
The fog had thickened. Still it wasn’t too foggy to see the coast in both directions. The gulls flying over the beach were visible, as were the rocky cliffs to the west that jutted out into the sea. No Promise. Surely she wouldn’t have been swept away by the waves. She was too intelligent, too magical, for that.
He turned to the east. He would have noticed if she crossed his path. To the west there were no footprints in the sand. None. When he looked out to the sea he saw the fleet of ships off shore, and a tiny dot of a skiff bouncing on the waves.
He dropped his clams and ran up the hill to the campfire, grabbed the black case the strangers had left behind, and headed west, toward the cliffs. If he had been certain he could control his newly acquired magic, he would have stayed and confronted the sorceress, but there was much to sort out before he would be ready to tackle her.
Ivar was quick on his feet. His short body and wiry legs gave him the ability to dart through the woods, skip over ravines and creek beds with ease. Once he left the sand and reached the grasslands, he covered ground as swiftly as a hart on a chase. The mountainous countryside that he approached was topped with large majestic cedar trees, a perfect refuge for someone with his skills.
Clutching the case firmly, and without looking back, he bounded over the boulders of the bluff, maneuvered his body through the steep embankments, and slithered through crevices until he reached the crest of the cliff, scrambling into the forest.
Spies
“Nothing but a bundle of sandy blankets and a few hot embers left, sir. I’d say he left less than a few hours ago. That is, if he escaped.”
After jumping behind the log where the other Xylonites hid, Xylepher bent over and held his knees, wheezing a bit as he caught his breath.
“The ships aren’t moving, and the skiff is on the beach.” Silvio combed his beard, twisting the hairs at the end of it. It wasn’t like him to be nervous.
“If she reaches him before we do . . .” Promise began.
“Holderbash!” Silvio interrupted her in the loudest whisper he had. She mustn’t raise the level of fear already brewing among the Xylonites. Professing calamity would just make matters worse. He’d seen the little people when they were afraid. They’d scatter. They’d run all over the place impossible to manage. If not that than they’d hide underground for a very long time and worry him to death. That’s why the Xylonites needed Silvio, to keep them levelheaded, and to hang onto hope. “She won’t find him first!” he insisted.
“As long as I’m slowing you down, she will.”
It was true, as much as Silvio hated to admit. They had only come a short way, but leading a blind person, no matter how smooth the traveling, had its encumbrances. Even on the beach the Xylonites had to keep her path clear from rocks she might trip over, shells she might cut her feet on, or too feisty a wave that might trip her at the knees and wash her away. And as timid as the little people were of the water, it was a job they preferred not to have. But when they traveled through the grass above the beach, the ground was lumpy and rutted and limbs protruded from fallen trees in the most unlikely places. Had they been quicker, they might have caught up with Ivar before Hacatine came ashore. They were too late for that now.
“Just leave me here,” Promise insisted.
“No, no, we can’t do that,” the Xylonites ran to her side, but she was already sitting on the ground, holding her head in her hands. “I can’t go any farther, anyway. My head feels like the eye of a hurricane, empty yet surrounded by darkness. The mission is more important than I am. I’m of no value to you. You need to find Ivar and you need to find him before Hacatine captures him. Silvio, please. Ivar has no idea how to defend himself from her. At least you could turn him into stone or something. Or convince him to return your magic to you.”
“Your life is important too,” one of the Xylonites said.
“Perhaps it is. Maybe my purpose in life is for this moment, to be a decoy for you so that the world will be saved.”
Several of the Xylonites sat on the ground next to her with long faces.
“Leave me here, and I’ll distract Hacatine as long as I can while you gain distance. I don’t mind. I found telling her off somewhat enjoyable. Can you see her? Or any of her warrior women?”
“I see no one. Just the empty skiff.” Silvio peered over the log again.”
“I’ll step out there where she can see me as soon as you’re on your way. Maybe it will draw her back to the beach.”
“We won’t let you risk it. We won’t let you succumb to her violence!” Xylepher drew his miniature sword. She laughed.
“You’re very kind. But if we don’t do something risky now, the whole world will succumb to her violence. That includes your families, and all the good people that live in the northern lands.”
Silvio’s heart sank because she was speaking the truth. Her plan made sense. “You may be right, but I don’t like it one bit. Not one.” Silvio kicked at the sand, his anxiety gaining the best of him.
“There’s no other choice right now. And the more we sit here discussing it, the farther away Ivar is running, and the closer Hacatine is to him.”
Several of the Xylonite women offered to stay with Promise, and two of the young men swore they’d find food for her and keep her safe.
“This won’t be easy.” Silvio grunted and took a long look at the woman. How could he leave this helpless lot alone? A blind girl and five little peop
le vulnerable to the wild.
“Go, Silvio. Go and save the world from the evil powers of a wicked queen.” Promise, as blind as she was, had no way of seeing the tear that dripped from Silvio’s eye down his cheek. With a strong drawing of his breath he turned away. Xylepher stood ahead of him with his troops, men, women and children, ready to take on their enemy.
Silvio sighed and with a heavy heart said, “What must be, must be. Hurry then!” He commanded the Xylonites with a wave of his hands.
Escape
Deep in the woods, high in a cedar tree, Ivar had an advantage over his predator, for he could see the coast, any seafaring traveler on the horizon, and enough of the trail below. He hooked the black case over the knob of a tree limb and shimmied to the ground. Stripping the red, stringy, bark from the cedar, with nimble fingers accustomed to craft, Ivar twisted the fiber into a long sturdy rope. He then wove a platform of fir limbs, securing it with fiber from dogbane and other brush. Once it was strong enough to hold his body, he hoisted it into the tree. Laying the platform across the dense cedar branches, camouflaged by the thick fragrant boughs, Ivar fastened the deck in place, grabbed the black case and climbed onto the ledge, sitting cross-legged.
Alone and safe, he could now explore this peculiar box. Ever since he had looked deep into Promise’s eyes and gained her insight, his curiosity about this black case and the strangers who carried it, peaked his curiosity. He snapped the hinge open, closed his eyes in meditation and willed for the power to remember how to turn it on.
A sunny day on the ocean, the ship rocked as sails flapped in the breeze. A man, pudgy with wrinkled skin, a curly beard and beady eyes, held a cup in his hand. He leaned over the shoulder of a boy who held a box just like Ivar’s. The child’s agile fingers moved over the keys, scrolling until the screen turned blue.
Ivar touched a button on the side of the case and the inside lit up revealing a vertical line that pulsated in a box. He fingered the keys without even thinking, as though he had been doing it all his life. The screen went dark and then lit up again, turning a bright blue. Ivar touched another key and the screen turned gray, and then all kinds of symbols appeared. He watched with amazement as the verbiage filled the screen. Seeing the symbols took him back to another place, another time.
“To do this job, you must learn anglais. Then I will speak to you in anglais so it comes easy for you.” The teen yanked the boy by his arm so that the child fell on the steps. “Ouch, Andre. It hurts!” the younger boy complained and tried to free himself.
“Shut up, or I’ll take it all away from you. Even your life!” the teen said. “This will be your job. If you want to live here, you’ll do this. Understand? Daryl?”
The teen slapped the boy on his head. Daryl nodded.
“Don’t play dumb. This is what they pay us for. Watch me.” Andre sat next to him, putting the laptop on his knees. He punched the keyboard with his middle finger, speaking slowly as the letters appeared on the screen. “This is how you’ll write your email. Like this: ‘Dear madam.’ Always say madam or sir. That’s proper anglais.”
Daryl nodded.
Andre kept typing. “‘You don’t know me but I speak to you because I am ill, and I will die soon. I need your help.’”
“You are ill?” Daryl asked.
“No, birdbrain.” Andre pushed his elbow into the boy’s ribs. “That’s what you say in the letter to make them sad for you, then they’ll send money.”
“They send me money?”
“No. They send money to our boss. He pays us. I’ll teach you all the letters to write. If you want to stay with me in the shack, this is how you’ll work. Otherwise you’ll sleep in the woods. The bears will eat you.”
Ivar remembered the jabs and the name-calling and how much he wanted to be like Andre. He even remembered the email now, and some of the alphabet letters that were on the screen in front of him he could actually read. He closed his eyes. The world of the past entered his mind.
Daryl ran up the trail to the shanty, anxious to show Andre the fish he had speared that morning. It was his biggest catch ever. But when he skipped the first step and jumped on the porch dread overwhelmed him. Large pieces of scrap wood were nailed over the door, and a lock hung from the knob. The windows were boarded.
He threw his catch on the porch and ran to the back. Though the screen door had been nailed shut, he was able to break the window and crawl inside. His and Andre’s clothes were spewed all over the floor. Everything they owned had been rummaged through, and the computer was gone. All of their treasures were gone. Andre was gone.
Ivar didn’t feel well; the memory left him dizzy. This recollection was not a good one. It was too much like the one he had on the beach. It was me. That boy Daryl, that was me! He stared at the blank screen. No wonder Amleth and Aren didn’t want him to remember.
Another picture appeared when he ran his fingers over the keyboard. Stars moved across the screen in complicated patterns. This was the same image that had been on Lyle’s box the other night. Ivar’s hands glowed yellow and green as he punched the keys unconsciously, igniting another memory in his mind.
“Here it is,” Daryl laughed. Several men surrounded him as they watched the mouse jump across the screen. “We did it. We broke the code.”
“Good boy, lad,” the captain said, slapping him on the back. “We’ll keep you around for a while,” he joked. Daryl grinned as the captain turned to the pudgy man. “Those Americans will never know what hit their computers.”
“Aye, then, are we going in?” Adrian asked.
“As long as there’s gold to be had and guns to move, you can bet your whiskers we’re going in.”
Before Ivar clicked another button he hesitated and looked up. The day was clear, not a cloud in the sky. The warmth of the sun cooked the scent of evergreen from the boughs he hid behind. However, despite the sultry atmosphere, the quiet seclusion, Ivar’s hands trembled. The energy inside him rumbled like thunder announcing a storm.
He wet his lips with his tongue and looked at the screen again. The stars flashed in time to the beat of his heart. It was an exciting sensation, blood rushed through his veins with power. Silvio and Promise’s power. He hit the button and a flash of light brightened the sky for a second. Thunder rolled overhead and the sun disappeared behind a colossal storm.
Just exactly what he had done, he had no way of knowing, but he laughed at the thrill of it. The dagger blazed a trail in his mind’s eye, and then he saw her. The queen. Hacatine, plain as day, up so close he could feel her breathe.
“Ivar,” she said. “I’m so glad I found you, again.”
Stunned, Ivar sat motionless.
“Come meet me on the beach this afternoon. I have a proposition for you.”
“Have nothing to do with wickedness, Ivar,” Aren had said.
The air turned humid, an overwhelming heat. Yet that wasn’t the only reason Ivar sweated. He wasn’t the least bit curious about Hacatine’s proposition. He didn’t trust her, not after what she had done to him on the ship. But here she was in his head. If she had this sort of power to find him, there’d be no way he could hide from her, or escape her cunning.
“What?” He paused, not sure if she could hear. “What if I met you? Would you imprison me again?”
As soon as he spoke, she appeared on his platform, sitting across from him. Though terrified, he had to know if she were real. He reached out to touch her but his hand moved through the vision.
She laughed. “No, Ivar, dear child, I’m not really sitting in your little tree house. Just like Promise wasn’t really walking on the beach this morning. It’s all a trick just to confuse you. However, I do know where you are.”
“How do you know?”
Her grin grew wide. “We have a mutual lens. Your dear Promise opened the door for me.”
“Promise?” Ivar didn’t mean for his voice to tremble. “Is she–is she safe?”
Hacatine laughed. “What do you mean by safe?”
Ivar clammed, his lips sealed. Maybe he shouldn’t talk about Promise to Hacatine.
“And no, in answer to your question, I’m not going to imprison you. I could, in fact, use your services.”
“What services?”
A gentle breeze swept through the tree house bearing the fragrance of the North Wind.
“I can’t explain now, it would take too long. I’ll tell you when we meet later this afternoon, on the beach. And Ivar,” she waited for his response. When he didn’t answer her, she continued. “Pay no mind to the wind chimes, dear. Think about it. Have they really helped you? Really?” She vanished as branches swayed in a sudden gust.
Alarm
The heavy cloud that had suddenly appeared in the west weighed on the atmosphere like steam rolling out of a kettle. Silvio made it halfway up the hill and had to stop from lack of breath. Xylepher and the others were already in the forest. But the sweat that ran down Silvio’s face and his pulsating heart, defeated the old man. He found the shadow of a boulder to rest by.
It wasn’t just the heat, either, that held him back. The responsibility he felt for the helpless blind girl and the five little people he left behind pulled on his emotions. Sure
she was a sorceress; but a sorceress with no power, nothing, no sight at all, vulnerable to the elements. The little people would have a hard time getting Promise down into a tunnel if this storm let loose. And on top of the ground the Xylonites would drown, wash away into the sea, no doubt, or be crushed by falling timber.
The wizard wiped his brow and looked above at the white shelf hanging over the stony path. A lone pine reached out across the way, its roots buried in the cranny of a rock. Bits of sunlight still peeked through the moving clouds, blasting heat on his forehead, only lasting for a second and then disappearing behind the thunderhead. How far would Xylepher go before he realized the old man had fallen behind? Silvio grumbled to himself. His moans were answered by voices up above.
Diary of a Conjurer Page 20