by Dan McGirt
Mercury eyed me suspiciously. “Are you saying you’re not from the League?”
“I’m not even a magician.”
“Interesting. I took you for a League recruiter in peasant guise. However, if you were a League lackey, you would already be lecturing me about my duty to use my magical powers for the benefit of all mankind. Therefore you are not from the League—but your name certainly isn’t Burlo Stumproot, is it?”
“Well… no.”
“So who are you?”
I swallowed hard and decided to take a chance on the truth. Something about this wizard, despite his sarcastic manner and demonstrated deadliness, made him seem trustworthy. “My name is Jason Cosmo.”
“Jason Cosmo?” He was suddenly bewildered.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think you existed.”
“I don’t. I mean, I’m not the Jason Cosmo the bounty is for. I’m just a woodcutter from Lower Hicksnittle.”
“Well, you must be a supernatural woodcutter. Your aura is the oddest I’ve ever seen.”
“My aura?”
“Aura. Auric script. The invisible glowing gold letters superimposed on a person’s face which, to those who can read them, reveal his magical power level, emotional state, and other qualities of character.” He recited the words like a dictionary definition, as if he were a professor lecturing a class at a college of magic. “I read yours in the tavern. Tried to read it, that is. It isn’t even written in the Standard Auric Alphabet. It’s just a lot of fine print and gobbledygook.”
“That’s news to me.”
“What I’m wondering is why the Dark Magic Society would offer ten million crowns for a Darnkite woodcutter with a messed-up aura.”
“The Society? You said a consortium—”
“That’s the gossip. I know better. What could Erimandras want with you?”
“Who is Erimandras?”
“The new Overmaster of the Society. He came to power in the last few years and the Society has been unusually active since then. I don’t know much about him except that he’s said to be brilliant, powerful, and utterly ruthless. Of course, most Overmasters of the Society have fit that description. See what you’re up against?”
“I’m the wrong Jason Cosmo.”
“Your aura suggests otherwise. Why did you seek me out?”
“It was coincidence. A bounty hunter named Lombardo attacked me in my village. I went to Whiteswab to try and learn why.”
“Now you know.” He frowned in concentration. I grew nervous.
“You aren’t going to take me in for the bounty, are you?”
He laughed. “No. You’ve seen how I get along with the Society and their minions.” He frowned again. “You’re lucky you live in such a backwater kingdom. Still, BlackMoon or the Huntsman will get here eventually. They’ve been systematically combing every square yard of the Eleven Kingdoms looking for you.”
“I see.” I still wanted to believe I was a victim of mistaken identity, but I knew with groundless certainty that the wizard was right. I was the one the Society wanted. I felt the truth of that statement in the core of my being.
“Our situations are similar,” said Mercury. “Except that the Society has sent a band of incompetents after me while you are stalked by the greatest hunters in the world. Also, I’m an experienced wizard who has traveled far and wide and trained with the finest masters of fencing and unarmed combat in the world, whereas you are but an illiterate—”
“I can read.”
“Whereas you are but a barely literate—”
“And write. Quite well.”
“Whereas you are an unusually literate Darnkite peasant who can’t handle a sword and has probably never ventured this far from home in your life.”
“I’ll concede that. Of course, I’m pretty good with an axe.”
“Do you have an axe?”
“Not anymore.”
“Offhand, I’d say you’re a dead man if they ever find you.”
“I’d agree.”
“With me, you might have a chance, but that would just make it more convenient for them to get us both at once. It would be foolish of me to take on your problems, considering I’m limited in my use of magic.”
“What do you mean by limited?”
“Take tonight. I could have obliterated the Black Bolts—or the whole town—with a single spell. But spellcasting requires that I draw on the ambient magical energy field of this world. Each act of magic creates a disturbance in that field, like the ripples in a pond when you throw a stone in. If I make too big a splash, the Society can pinpoint my location and send overwhelming forces against me. I have to exercise restraint and rely on my other skills for survival.”
“They seem adequate.”
“They usually are. But so far I’ve been of minor concern to the Society. With a truly concerted effort, they could force me into a join or die situation.”
“What will you do then?”
“Die, but that’s not the point. I’d like to avoid that dilemma and you may be the key.”
“Me? How?”
“For the Society to want you badly enough to put up ten million crowns, your capture is vital to one of their plots or else you’re a grave threat to their existence. I suspect the latter, since they prefer to economize on plots when they can.”
“How can I possibly threaten the Society?”
“Your aura. Obviously it contains information dangerous to them. If I could learn what it says, perhaps I can use the information against them.”
“Why would my aura—”
“I don’t know. Listen to what I’m saying. I’ll protect you until we learn what your aura says. Then, if the information is useful, I’ll use it to get the Society off both our backs. Your alternative is inevitable capture probably followed by a slow, gruesome death by torture. What do you say?”
“I accept your offer.”
“You’re a smart man, Cosmo.”
“How are we going to read my aura? You already tried.”
“I know an aura specialist in Raelna,” he said, with a faint wistfulness. “If anyone can read it, she can.”
“She?”
“Whatever the case in Darnk, it is not unheard of for women to practice the magic profession in the more advanced kingdoms.”
“Here in Darnk, it’s unheard of for anyone to practice the magic profession,” I pointed out.
“True. This place is backwards in many ways. Economic stagnation, limited cultural activities, military weakness, diplomatic ineptitude—”
“I get the point.”
“Sorry.” He held out his hand and we shook. “The bargain is sealed,” he said formally. “You are now under the protection of Mercury Boltblaster. You can call me Merc.”
“You can call me Jason.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Fine. So why is the Dark Magic Society after you?”
“It’s a long story. The Society has had but one goal since it rose from the ashes of the Empire of Fear a thousand years ago—world domination. Their chief opponents have always been the members of the League of Benevolent Magic. In the old days the Society and the League had kings and generals at their beck and call. They could start wars on a whim if it furthered their purposes. Things happened on a much grander scale than they do today.”
“Why the decline? And what does this have to do with you?”
“I’m getting to that. The two groups simply wore themselves out with their constant battling. They expended tremendous amounts of manpower, energy, and wealth trying to best one another and succeeded only in producing a stalemate that lasted for centuries. Now the conflict is mainly limited to the wizards; kings and generals start their own wars. That’s how it concerns me. I’m a wizard of arcane master rank and—”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m a master of magic. One of the best. There are less than a hundred of us in all the Eleven Kingdoms. Naturally, both the L
eague and the Society would like to have as many master wizards on their side as possible, but I refuse to serve either.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t care about their struggle. I grant that the Society is evil, but I don’t think the League is much better. They’re less bloodthirsty, but just as ruthless. They rely on the same kinds of tactics, they have the same goals of power and influence—they just won’t admit it the way the Society does. I don’t want anything to do with either group. Unfortunately, they won’t take no for an answer. The League keeps sending its lackeys to lecture me; the Society has Isogoras the Xornite on my trail.”
“And the Black Bolts.”
“They were hired by Isogoras. You have to understand that Isogoras and I are enemies from way back. He’s terrified of me. He won’t face me personally, so he gets others to do the job for him.”
“I see.”
“Tell me more about yourself, Cosmo. It might give me a clue to your sudden popularity.”
“Until a few days ago I was just an ordinary Darnkite peasant. My parents died when I was fifteen. In the seven years since, I’ve supported myself farming turnips and cutting wood.”
“No wife? No family?”
“No, nothing like that. Are you married?”
Merc looked as if I had suddenly choked him. He scowled bitterly for a moment, and then shook his head almost imperceptibly. We rode in silence after that. I had evidently yanked on a very raw nerve.
After ten minutes or so, I noticed the road ahead was shrouded in a faintly shining mist. In fact, looking around, I saw that the mist filled the forest on all sides and covered the way we had just come. I heard an eerie mechanical hum.
“Something strange is happening,” I pointed out.
“Indeed.” Mercury peered ahead intently, perhaps using some magical vision I lacked. “There’s a light.”
I could see it. It was a soft amber glow penetrating the fog at what seemed to be a great distance. We rode toward it cautiously, the hum growing ever louder. The mist dissipated in our immediate vicinity as we progressed while always remaining thick just a few yards away. I gradually perceived the outlines of a small cottage. As we drew nearer I heard the rhythmic wooden creaking of a rocking chair. We halted before the porch and saw that the chair was occupied by an old man in faded denim overalls. His gray beard was gathered in his lap, his bald head creased with wrinkles, his blind eyes covered by a milky film. Beside him was a small machine that looked like a bucket with gears and a bellows on top. It was pumping out clouds of the shining mist. The amber light came from a small lantern hanging on a rusty nail in the wall. The old man spoke.
“Greetings, Jason Cosmo. Greetings, Mercury Boltblaster. I am He Who Sits On The Porch and I know many things.”
“Like what?” asked Merc, visibly unimpressed.
The old man smiled. “I see what others don’t. My function is to share that knowledge with selected heroes, to guide them in their endeavors.”
He was obviously a being of great power and we were obviously in the wrong place. “We’re sorry to have disturbed you,” I said. “We lost our way in the mist and—”
“Nonsense, boy! You’re not lost.” He stopped rocking and leaned forward. “I have revealed myself to you for a purpose.”
“There must be a mistake,” said Merc. “We’re not heroes.”
“Of course not,” said the old man. “You’re just a woodcutter and a wizard out for an evening ride, not two men on the run from the Dark Magic Society, the most thoroughly wicked gang of thugs and would-be world conquerors in history.” He resumed his rocking.
“That sounds accurate,” I said, nodding.
“But it doesn’t make us heroes,” added Merc quickly.
“I know about you and your bad attitude,” said He Who Sits On The Porch to the wizard. “But you would be wise to listen to me. Great events are in motion and the two of you have an integral role to play.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” sneered Merc.
“Silence! My time here is limited and I have much to relate before the Demon Lords are able to penetrate my obscuring fog and discover my presence.”
“What have the Demon Lords got to do with us?” asked Merc, suddenly interested.
“That got your attention, didn’t it? The Demon Lords, they who rule the various regions of the Assorted Hells, have placed their infernal legions on full alert and are carefully watching events on the mortal plane. They fear an invasion of their domain.”
“Then why watch our world? None but The Gods have the power to invade the Hells.”
“It is not The Gods they fear, but one of their own. Enough of that! It suffices to know that the Demon Lords watch and it is Jason Cosmo they seek.”
“Me? Why?”
“The invasion feared by the Demon Lords can only come about if you fall into the hands of the Society. If the Demon Lords locate and eliminate you first, they can prevent the war they fear.”
“I thought the Society served the Demon Lords,” I said.
“In the past they have cooperated with the Lords Below, but the Society serves only itself. At the present time, the purposes of the Overmaster Erimandras conflict with the purposes of the Hellmasters. I know you are filled with questions, but they must wait. The Gods desire to help you, but their options are limited. I have been sent to tell you, however, that you are now a hero.”
“I feel more like a target.”
“You don’t understand. Each person has a station in life and must obey the rules of his given role. A woodcutter behaves as a woodcutter, a fisherman as a fisherman, and so forth. This is divine law. But as a woodcutter you have little chance for surviving your current circumstances. The Gods have therefore removed your name from the Roll of Woodcutters and entered you in the Roll of Heroes. As a hero you have a greater probability of survival. You are allowed to make daring escapes, overcome great odds, survive certain death—useful perks like that. I’ve been sent to inform you of this change so you can behave accordingly.”
“This all seems a little arbitrary,” I insisted. “I’m no theologian, but I didn’t think The Gods could—”
“They can. My time is nearly up. Jason Cosmo, you and your companion must reach the land of Raelna, where your aura may be deciphered. Allies await you there and the nature of your task will be made clearer.”
“Task? What task?”
“I must go now. Proceed quietly and do not call attention to yourself. Above all, be heroic.” His blind eyes seemed to bore directly into mine as he spoke his next words. “A great many people are depending on you.”
* * *
4
The fog swirled thickly around the cottage, obscuring the light of the amber lantern, wrapping itself so tightly that I couldn’t see Mercury or even the horn of my saddle.
In a few moments the mist parted and we found ourselves on a grassy slope looking west to a small, unsightly city. Afternoon sunlight fell dully on the swift, muddy river that flowed past its drab stone walls. A caravan of wagons from the south road was passing into the city through the main gates, which faced us. I felt refreshed, as after a good night’s rest.
“That’s Offal,” said Mercury, putting on his sunshades. “A two day ride from where we were last night—assuming only one night passed while we were under the old man’s spell. He seems to have given us a nice lead on the Black Bolts. We’ll get supplies here and head for Brythalia.” He was acting as if our arrival here was normal. To him, maybe it was. Not to me. I had plenty of questions.
“How did we get here?”
Merc shrugged. “Who knows? It doesn’t matter. That old man was a messenger of The Gods, meaning he has powers beyond mortal comprehension. No point, therefore, in trying to comprehend them.” He started his horse forward.
“What did the old man mean about the Society not serving the Demon Lords? I thought that was their whole purpose—to bring the Demon Lords back to power, like they were in the time of the
Empire of Fear.”
Merc assumed his lecture voice. “The Demon Lords hate each other and compete for supremacy. You can’t speak of them as a united group the way you can speak of The Gods. The Society forms temporary alliances with the various Lords as it suits them, but it does not serve them nor seek to restore their former glory. Actually, there would not have been an Empire of Fear if the great Asmodraxas had not mastered his fellow Lords. His power alone brought the Age of Despair, but he has long since fallen and vanished from the ken…” His voice trailed off.
“What is it?”
“That’s what the old man meant! The Demon Lords fear the return of Asmodraxas!”
“You just said he vanished.”
“I’m certain you’ve heard the legend of the Mighty Champion?”
“Well, sure. Every child knows that he led the Great Rebellion that brought down the Empire and began the Age of Hope in which we now live.”
The priests taught that this was the fifth age since Arden’s creation. Each age lasted a thousand years, from the pristine Age of Nature which followed the Creation, to the idyllic Age of Peace during which humanity enjoyed a perfect, albeit boring, society. This was followed by the arrival of the Demon Lords from Somewhere Else and the cataclysmic Age of War. After a thousand years of stalemate, The Gods and the Demon Lords called a truce and agreed to withdraw from worldly events under the terms of the Great Eternal Pan-Cosmic Holy/Unholy Non-intervention Pact. The Gods honored the agreement, the demons did not. The result was the misery and agony of the Age of Despair. The Demon Lords walked Arden freely and established an Empire of Fear. Finally, The Gods could take no more and sent a Mighty Champion to end the reign of evil and bring a new age of freedom, renewal, and hope.