by K. B. Bogen
He needed a distraction ...
“Thou art summoned, young master,” a bass voice sounded from deep within the trees.
“Huh?” It was the most intelligent response Erwyn could think of. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind.
A large black robe with a hood on it emerged from the shadows. It appeared to be occupied. At least, it had one bony hand, which was currently pointed at Erwyn.
So Much To Do, So Little Time
Wake Me When It’s Over
“ALWAYS LEAVE YOUR CAMPSITE THE WAY YOU FOUND IT. COVER YOUR FIRE, PICK UP THE TRASH, AND FILL IN ANY HOLES YOU MAKE.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Four: On How to Have a Safe Trip
“Thy talents are needed,” the voice inside the robe intoned. Then it began to chant:
Fire and earth, wind and wave,
Seek to build a gruesome grave.
Sorcerer’s power by sunlight blessed
Is summoned now to fill this quest.
Come to us by ...
“Now wait just a doggone minute,” Erwyn interrupted. “I know you’re trying to tell me something, but do you really have to use bad poetry to get the message across? I mean, couldn’t you just ask?”
“Uh, sure.” The voice rose in pitch for a second, then resumed its intonation. “Thou art summoned to aid my master in his holy quest.”
“Uh-uh. No way.”
“What?” The voice was up in the stratosphere again.
“Just what I said. I’m busy.” Erwyn held up his fingers as he counted out his current preoccupations. “I’ve got to rescue an unknown damsel in distress, who may or may not exist, help some Marlian warriors find their stolen talisman, solve the problem of the enchanted town of Perbellum, find some way to get rid of a few hundred damselflies, figure out what the sorceress Sharilan is up to, and learn how to make decent sandcastles. All in the next few years. I’m swamped.” He paused. “By the way, how’d you find me?”
“The Sorcerers’ Apprentice School mailing list, graduate placement program.”
“You’re a little premature. I haven’t graduated yet.”
“Oh. Okay.” The voice hesitated. “You don’t happen to know where I can find another sorcerer in the area, do you? A cheap one?”
“Nope. I’m the only one around here that I know of. Unless you’d like an evil sorcerer. Sorceress, actually. There just happens to be one following me right now. Maybe you’d like to recruit her?”
“Uh ... no. Thanks, anyway.” The robe shuffled back toward the trees, muttering as it went. “Boy! The trouble you have to go to just to find decent help these days!”
Erwyn watched the robe as it disappeared into the forest. He had wanted a distraction, after all.
Oh, dear!
Anxiously, he looked down by his feet. This time he really surprised himself. His castle was intact. He still wondered about the sand though.
“Ouch! Damn potholes!” Came a muffled curse from the direction the robe had taken.
I wonder if ... , thought Erwyn as he gazed pensively toward the sound. Naaah!
He shook his head and turned his attention back to the sandcastle.
By the time Chesric came looking for him, Erwyn had a miniature city spread out beneath the trees. The royal capital of Caldoria was there nestled among the toadstools. The old castle that currently served as The Sorcerer’s Apprentice School stood proudly about six inches high in the shelter of a fallen branch. Various rocks, stumps and leaf piles also sported assorted castles from Erwyn’s own designs.
Picking out a fairly clear spot, Erwyn settled back to start another variation.
“Erwyn!” Chesric’s bellow could be heard throughout the forest. “Have you been practicing at sandcastles again?” He crashed through the brush into the young sorcerer’s current domain.
“Yes. Why?” Erwyn asked reasonably, looking up as the old man limped up beside him.
Chesric stared at Erwyn’s handiwork. “Thought you might be. There seem to be a lot of new potholes in the area all of a sudden. You know what I mean?”
Erwyn grinned mischievously. “I was thinking of trying a full-sized one now. Want to watch?”
“Uh ... no, thanks. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to do my watching from a league or three away. I don’t fancy accidentally falling into any castle-sized holes any time in the near future.”
“You know, that is a bit of a problem.” Erwyn frowned down at his sandcastle town. “I’ll have to work on it. See if I can learn to control that part.”
“Not right now, you won’t. We need you back at the camp.”
“What for?” Erwyn couldn’t quite guess Chesric’s meaning from his expression.
“You’ll see.”
Still wondering, Erwyn followed the old knight back through the trees.
It didn’t take long for him to discover the answer to his question. In fact, he heard the answer before he actually saw it. It was a pretty loud answer.
Stepping out from under the trees, Erwyn faced the assemblage gathered there.
“Oooh! There he is ... Isn’t he cute, for a sorcerer, I mean ... Hiya, Erwie! ... Hey, handsome, how about doin’ time with me for good behavior?”
The damselflies were back.
Erwyn wasn’t sure whether to be glad about their quick return or not. On the one hand, the fact that they were back ought to mean that they’d found something. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted anything to be found.
Well, no use crying over spilled mango juice, or something to that effect. He smiled, trying to cover the sinking feeling in his stomach.
“You have something to tell me?”
“Yup ... Sure do ... Uh-huh ... You betcha ... ”
“Just for the sake of saving time,” Erwyn interjected as the answers died down, “could you just pick one, er, damsel to tell me the news? I could die of old age waiting for all of you to finish.”
“Sure thing, sweetie.” That was Viona. The designated speaker for the damselfly contingent fluttered up from Erwyn’s bedroll. “The rest of the girls just flew and flew and flew looking for news of this castle of yours.
“It was just awful. I mean, the wind and the rain mussing everyone’s hair and just drenching their gowns.” She bounced up and down in excitement.
“Clotilda’s just ruined her slippers and Lyla Mae’s beautiful hair’s all matted and ... ”
“Hold on a sec. Could you just give me the important part?” Erwyn pleaded.
Then, noting Viona’s glare, he added, “I promise I’ll write down the whole story in my journal later.”
“Humph!” Viona patted her hair, which Erwyn now recognized as a sign that the damselfly was miffed. “Well, if that’s really what you want ... anyway, they found it.”
The abrupt change in narrative style startled him.
“Huh?”
“I said they found it. Your castle.”
“They found it? Are you certain?”
“You said it was a large stone castle, with a wall of thorns around it, and a dragon guarding it, and a moat, and everything, didn’t you?”
“Well, I didn’t say anything about a moat, but that’s essentially it. Where is it?”
“Same direction we’ve been going. If we keep going west, we’ll run into it. Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“Yes, but how far is it?”
“About four day’s flight from here.”
That meant he was almost done with this stupid quest. If he could get inside the castle. If he could free its prisoner. If he could get back out alive. If he could avoid running into Sharilan in the process. No sweat.
Then another thought occurred to him.
“Uh, Viona.”
“Yes, Erwyn, dear?”
“Um ... how far is that in horse-time, since t
he rest of us can’t fly?”
Viona hovered in front of him, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her cheek.
“A couple of weeks.”
Yet Another Thorny Problem
Once More, Off to the Beach, Dear Friends
“MAGICALLY GROWN VEGETATION HAS LONG BEEN USED FOR FENCING AROUND ENCHANTED CASTLES. A WAND MADE THIS VEGETATION CAN BE INVALUABLE FOR PENETRATING IT.” — Sorcerer Almanac, Section Six: On the Successful Use of Magic
Actually, it turned out to be a month before the entire group, damselflies and all, gathered in front of the gates of the castle. Or more precisely, in front of the thorny bushes in front of the gates of the castle. A month of sticky, sugary sweetness. A month of simpering and petty bickering. A month of sniping and waterworks.
The damselflies hadn’t been able to decide between them who got to ride with, or on, whom. And there wasn’t enough surface area between the five of them, and their horses, and their packhorses, for the diminutive damsels to all ride at once.
Then, there was the fact that Kerissa didn’t want them riding on her, at all. In fact, she preferred to leave them all behind. That comment caused so much whining and boo-hooing that Erwyn wasn’t sure he’d ever get them mollified.
Likewise, the advent of summer seemed to call for a complete wardrobe change as far as damselfly etiquette was concerned. Kerissa told them what they could do with their wardrobe, and the crying started again.
At last, they had gotten their respective acts together and reached the castle.
Kerissa, Chesric, and Lariyn were currently engaged in a discussion on the best way to get through the living wall. So far, they were divided about whether to burn the whole wall, or try the old hack-and-slash method. There seemed to be some doubt as to whether the latter would work, and they weren’t certain they could accomplish the former without burning the contents of the castle, as well.
Besides, by the time they’d reached the castle, summer had settled in firmly. Everyone and everything had already started to wilt, even the roses on the magic hedge, and no one was really interested in being part of a bonfire.
Devydd was busily examining the wall up close, but was having little or no luck. There were no openings big enough for a full-sized person, no locks to pick or windows to climb through.
The damselflies tried flying through chinks in the thorny fence. But each time they found an opening, the vines would move into the hole, batting the tiny intruders out of the way. As if the plants were alive ... and aware of their presence.
Erwyn himself was engaged in what he considered to be his most important activity for the moment. He was resting.
“Ain’t you goin’ to join us?” Chesric punctuated his question by prodding Erwyn’s foot.
The boy looked up from where he sat cross-legged in the shade of the rose bushes. “I’m resting.”
“We could use some help.”
“What do you need my help for? There are forty billion of you over there poking at the bushes already.”
“Seems to me ye’d want to get this thing over with quick.”
“I’d love to, but they’re going about it the wrong way.”
“What do ye mean?”
“I mean, this castle positively reeks of magic. And I suspect it’ll take magic to get into it.”
“Then we definitely need you.”
“I don’t know how to get in. And I don’t have enough information about the castle or why Sharilan sent me here.” He paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “But maybe I can find out. Viona, dear,” he called out in his most enticing voice.
“Yes, Erwyn, sweetie?” The damselfly fluttered up to rest on his shoulder.
“When your, uh, friends were looking for the castle, did they happen to learn anything about it? Besides its location, I mean?”
“Why, certainly. How do you think they found out where the castle was, silly boy? They just listened to all the big people talking about it.”
“You mean they didn’t actually come all the way to the castle?”
“Of course not, sugar. As soon as they learned where it was, they rushed back to tell us.”
“What did they find out? Where did it come from? Who put it here? How long has it been here?”
“One question at a time, honeybunch. As far as the girls could determine, the castle just appeared, thorn bushes and all, a couple or three months ago. And guess what?” Viona paused dramatically. “The person who put it there was ... Sharilan!”
“Oh, great!” Erwyn moaned, putting his hands to his head. “I knew she had more to do with this than she admitted. I bet this Fenoria girl doesn’t even exist.”
“You mean the princess who’s locked up in the castle?”
“Princess?” Erwyn felt his stomach sinking again. “Nobody told me she was a princess.”
“Of course, she is. Why else would she be locked up in a castle? Honestly, Erwyn, sometimes you sorcerers can be so weird.” She flew off to join her friends in their inspection of the thorns.
Now all that remained for Erwyn to do was decide if he really wanted to get into the castle and, if so, how. Of course, he could leave Sharilan’s little task unfinished and go off somewhere where he could wait out his four, that is, three and something years in comparative peace.
But what if Fenoria really needed to be rescued, whatever Sharilan’s reasons were. He couldn’t just leave her there. Could he?
Phooey! Here he was, sitting outside a fairytale castle, with one of the strangest groups of adventurers ever collected in one place, and he didn’t know whether he was coming or going.
Erwyn got up and stalked over to examine the thorn bushes himself. Hands on hips, he surveyed the twisted greenery, looking for anything which might give him a clue to its secret. Nothing. The only thing he knew for certain was that the bushes were grown magically.
He looked closer. There was something about those bushes, something familiar ...
Erwyn turned to the others to ask if they’d found anything. Halfway around, one of the thorns caught his tunic.
“Look!” Chesric shouted, pointing behind Erwyn.
The boy whirled about, to be confronted by the same impenetrable wall of spines.
“Damn!” Erwyn plucked at the hole in his tunic.
The thorn had ripped right through the pocket, and the wand was slipping out. He retrieved the rod and turned again to his comrades. For some reason, they were all looking at him.
“Is there a problem?” He demanded, waving his arms for emphasis.
The entire group caught its collective breath. Erwyn froze, his arms still extended. They weren’t actually watching him, not specifically.
Slowly he turned his head. Then he caught his breath, too. His left hand, the one holding the wand, was in the thorn bush. Actually, it was between the bushes. The vines and branches had separated on either side.
Out of curiosity, Erwyn carefully withdrew his hand. The rose branches settled once more into a thick wall.
He put his empty hand out toward the mass of vegetation. Nothing happened.
He tried again with the wand in hand. The plants moved out of the way.
“I think we’ve found the way in!”
“Excuse me fer mentionin’ this, but ain’t that hole a trifle small fer us all to squeeze through?”
Leave it to Chesric to point out the faults in Erwyn’s logic.
“Don’t worry. I can solve that problem. I think.”
Erwyn moved his hand, and consequently the wand, in a circle. A slow circle, in case his idea didn’t work. The plants gave way before the rod.
When the hole was about a foot across, Erwyn pulled his hand out. The plants began to seal the hole again.
“See,” Erwyn told the rest of the group, “I’ll just open a hole wide enough to walk through and we�
��ve got it made.”
Kerissa looked doubtful. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to stay here with the horses. We need a lookout on the outside, in case something happens.” She glanced toward Lariyn.
The lieutenant hesitated, as though she wanted to refuse the implied order. Instead, she answered, “I’ll stay, Captain.”
“I’ll stay, too.” Devydd stepped to Lariyn’s side.
Erwyn looked at the two of them, wondering why Devydd would want to volunteer for guard duty. Lariyn seemed perfectly capable of handling it herself. He shrugged. The thief must have his reasons.
A few minutes and a short discussion on strategy later, Chesric, Kerissa, and Erwyn, plus a few dozen damselflies, approached the wall of thorns. Those who had weapons held them ready.
Erwyn, in front, opened a large hole in the wall and stood waiting for the last of the expedition to go through. Then he followed them.
Once through the thorn bushes, they stood in a clear space in front of the castle gates. The gates themselves were huge. Which went without saying, since they could be seen over a fourteen-foot wall of thorns. They were made of iron and looked very, very heavy.
The castle towered above the doors. Giant stone blocks, set with great precision, formed its walls. Turrets and towers stretched toward the skies. The structure seemed large enough to hold the entire city of Dunaara, with room to spare. But something was wrong.
For some reason, the sunlight didn’t seem as bright inside the wall of thorns. The drab quality of the light made an otherwise extremely impressive castle appear dull and gloomy.
“There’s no moat.”
“What?” Chesric seemed confused.
“There’s no moat,” Erwyn repeated. “Viona said there was supposed to be a moat.”
“Well, I for one am kinda glad about that. Makes gettin’ into the place a mite easier.”
“Really? You have any ideas about how to get through those doors?”