“You know,” Bareg said, handing Steve an axe. “You moved very quickly when I stormed in like I did. Are you a warrior? Perhaps on a journey from your homeland?”
“Journey, yes,” Steve replied. “Warrior, no.”
The two of them stopped before a large woodpile. Steve looked with raised eyebrows at the prospect of the job before them but Bareg only gave him a toothy grin.
“You want to finish all of this?” Steve asked.
“Of course,” the big man replied. “And it will be good for you; puts meat on the bones!” He finished this last with a friendly slap to the young man’s arm.
“Oh,” Steve answered with a half grin, “is that what it does?” He watched as Bareg took one of the smaller pieces of wood and propped it on end on a larger, flat stump.
“Go ahead,” the big man prompted.
Steve stepped forward and raised the axe high over his head. The keen edge came down swiftly, cutting the small log down the middle cleanly in two. The vibration, however, rang painfully through the handle and into his hands. He released one hand and shook it vigorously with a look that was half smile, half pained.
Bareg chuckled. “Keep a firm hold on the handle and that won’t happen.”
“Good idea,” Steve agreed, rubbing his palms alternately on his thighs. “I think I’ll do that.”
Bareg went to the pile and retrieved a log two feet long and a foot wide. He propped it on end and swung his ax in a powerful arc. The log split down the middle with a loud crack. Bareg smiled. “Like that.”
“You know, nobody likes a showoff.”
Steve took one of his own halves and split it again while Bareg did the same. Together they worked, steadily decreasing the pile of uncut wood and increasing the stack of firewood off to the side. Each time, Steve remembered to grip the axe handle firmly with each swing and the logs split before him unerringly. Though hard, he actually enjoyed the feeling of using the muscles in his shoulders and back in a way that he had seldom done before. If Bareg spent every day with similar tasks it was no wonder he was so big.
“What do you suppose the women are talking about?” Bareg asked finally.
“Absolutely nothing,” Steve replied
Bareg gave him a puzzled look. “Why do you say that?”
Steve propped up another half of a log and leaned on his axe handle for a rest. “Sonya can’t speak your language.”
Bareg paused mid-swing. “How can you say that? I heard her with my own ears, and a very lovely voice she has, too. You are lucky to have such a woman by your side.”
Steve looked to the farmhouse and then said, “Sonya and I aren’t a couple. In fact, she’s only here by accident and can’t understand a word of your language when our hands are apart.”
“Steve, you speak as though you are talking about…”
Steve sighed regretfully and nodded.
“Magic?” Bareg asked in awe. “You are a wizard, then?”
Steve noticed Bareg asked the question with the same desperate desire and hope Ells had, and he did not understand what motivation prompted such hope? He hated to lie to him, especially given his kindness to Sonya and himself, but he knew it would be better for everyone in the end to keep the truth a secret. “No, Sonya’s ability to speak is my limit—and it’s not even something I control.”
Bareg seemed disappointed, but quickly brightened up once again. “Still, it is impressive in itself. Magic has not manifested in anyone but a select few for decades.” He paused then, clearly thinking on something Steve could only guess at, then smiled before picking up his axe and splitting yet another log.
Steve was curious as to what he had been thinking about, but decided against asking believing if it was something he had wanted to share he would have.
The sun had nearly set when the two men stepped foot in the front door again. Ells and Sonya looked up from the soup they worked together preparing as they entered. Bareg opened his arms to Ells, who hugged him affectionately while Steve slumped into a wooden chair with a groan. Every muscle in his body felt as if it had been stretched and wrung out –his shoulders and back most of all.
“If anybody needs me I’ll be right here,” he said wearily, “for the next three days.”
“I was right,” Bareg said to Ells. “He does have a strong back.”
“Gee, thanks,” Steve said with a sardonic smile.
Sonya turned from what she was doing and walked up to where Steve was sitting. “Not feeling so hot?”
Steve afforded her a wry, sidelong glance, “You mean it shows?”
Sonya laughed and moved around behind him. She placed a hand gently on either shoulder then, with firm pressure, began rubbing in small circles from his neck to his shoulder blades. Steve’s eyes immediately rolled back and he wished he could just fall asleep right there under her heavenly ministrations. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”
Both Ells and Bareg smiled at the two of them. Ells then turned and began setting bowls of soup on a crude table made from wooden planks.
“Come on, Steve,” Bareg said as good-naturedly as ever. “We need to get cleaned up for dinner.”
“I can’t,” he replied dreamily. “This feels too good.”
Bareg folded his arms over his chest, “Now, Sonya, the lad must eat.” Sonya smiled and stopped her massage to go help Ells.
“Traitor,” Steve said in English.
Sonya winked. “Go get cleaned up.”
Steve climbed to his feet and said to Bareg, “You don’t play fair.”
Sonya could not suppress her mirth when the two of them disappeared into the back room.
After a few minutes, Bareg reentered the room and chatted with his wife as he helped her cut slices of bread.
“Where is Steve?” Ells asked.
Bareg chuckled, “He will be a little longer yet. Seems he might have pushed himself a little too hard.”
Steve leaned painfully in front of a trough of water. I didn’t think it would be this rough, he thought to himself. He scrubbed his hands in the lukewarm water and then his face, moving slowly over the more sensitive regions of his arms and neck. Despite the pain in his joints, however, he was oddly satisfied. It only meant he was using those muscles in different ways and making them stronger. A little more of the same exercise would… “probably kill me,” he finished aloud.
He sighed and chided himself for even thinking this way when what he needed to do was focus on how he planned to get them both back home. Sonya had another life to lead, and he had one to straighten out. Besides, with Azinon surely on their trail, this was no time to get sidetracked. Haldorum sent them here—however hastily—so it was only a matter of time before the old wizard showed up to collect them. They just had to sit tight until then.
I suppose there is one good thing, he mused, I’m about as far away from Amy as a person can possibly get. Even though the thought of her still hurt inside, he was glad to have so much distance between them. The thought of her, and what she did, still stung. But he had also learned, and he was resolved not to leave himself open like that again.
Steve stood upright and shrugged those thoughts aside. There were more important things to worry about for the time being than his love life. Casting the last of those grim thoughts aside, he emerged from the back room and chose a seat with the rest of them around the little table to eat.
Sonya seated herself next to Steve and slipped her hand in his. “Ells, you wanted to say something earlier?”
Ells nodded as she swallowed down a mouthful of bread. “I meant to say you and Steve are welcome to the barn. In the loft the straw is clean and the two of you could bed down together there.”
Steve choked on his soup at that suggestion and then quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said.
“Are you all right, Steve?” Bareg asked.
“Yeah, sure, it’s just that last par—bite, I mean, didn’t go down right.” Sonya looked at him quizzically, but Steve kept his eyes down as thou
gh suddenly fascinated with something in his food.
“Is something wrong, Sonya?” Ells asked.
She looked up. “Hmm? No, I was just thinking.”
“Bareg,” Steve said wanting to change the subject, “tell me about this guy, Borathis. I mean, why is everyone so afraid of him and his men?”
The big man nodded gravely over his bowl. “Everyone fears him because he is a harsh man and tolerates no opposition in the slightest. If you are too slow to bow your head in his presence, he will in all likelihood take it from you. Say the wrong thing, and he will cut out your tongue. When Borathis and his men are in the area you keep your eyes to the ground and stay out of their way.”
Steve looked to Ells. “So that is why you were so afraid when I showed up? Ells only nodded. To Bareg Steve said, “Is Borathis the king here?”
“Heavens, no,” Bareg replied with a half smile. “We would be far too fortunate for that. Borathis answers to Azinon, a powerful sorcerer who sits on the throne of the empire. Azinon divided the realm into three regions and appointed a marshal each to watch over them. Borathis is the Lord Marshall here.”
Steve pushed his food away, no longer feeling hungry. “If Azinon is so evil then why don’t the people revolt?”
“Ah, Steve, if it were only that easy. You do not know the power of Azinon. It is rumored that when he was born there was such utter darkness in his soul he drew the attention of the lord of evil himself. But he was not the only one. The First Power of Mithal also sensed that darkness, and he set out to find the child and destroy it. When the forces of darkness learned of this, a demon was dispatched to intercept the wizard. It is said the ensuing battle between those two forces raged for days and across miles. The First Power was brought near death, but just when it seemed the demon would emerge triumphant, an equally powerful daemon—a being of light—came to his aid. Already worn down by his battle with the First Power, the vile demon was vanquished by this new foe.”
“The lord of evil knew the First Power of Mithal, once recovered from his battle, would seek again to destroy the child. So he released a devil, a being more powerful still than the demon, into our world. The devil went to the dark child where he slept in his bed and bestowed him with magic to equal the evil in his heart, thus making him the Second Power of Mithal. The devil then stole the child away to be raised where none might find him.”
“When Azinon returned he did so with an army of fowl creatures at his back and overthrew the rightful Emperor of the realm. Now most of humankind is under his rule, as will soon be the other races.”
“So then he doesn’t rule everyone,” Steve confirmed.
“No, for the time being, we humans enjoy that distinction,” Bareg said wryly. “I have heard of a resistance that opposes him, but from what I hear they are little more than a thorn in his side.” Bareg looked to Steve curiously and asked, “From where is it you come the Dark One is not known to you?”
Steve and Sonya exchanged a look. Finally Sonya said, “It’s really kind of a long story.”
“I see,” Bareg said, finishing his soup. “It is a long story, it is late, and you are both tired – Steve especially so. Perhaps the two of you should head out to the loft and get a good night’s sleep. We can talk more in the morning, if you wish.”
In a few minutes, everyone finished their supper and both Steve and Sonya headed out toward the barn to get some rest. They offered to help with the cleanup but Ells would have none of it. As they walked Steve did his best to ignore the stiffness settling into his muscles sitting so long at the table had brought on. His efforts, however, proved to little good, and he walked with a rigid gait.
“Do you want some help?” Sonya asked teasing.
“Oh, no. My body hurts, that’s all. I’ll be okay.”
Sonya opened the door to the barn and allowed Steve to enter first before following suit and closing the door behind. Everywhere they looked, dirty and rusty tools lay about amid the smell of farm animals hanging heavily in the air. A cow, several chickens, and sheep all shared the space contentedly enough, it seemed, but Steve couldn’t help but hope for fewer tenants up above.
Sonya spotted the ladder to the loft and quickly scampered up and out of sight, leaving Steve staring after her. “Is this really necessary?” he asked himself. Necessary or not, Sonya’s smiling face appeared briefly in the aperture and she waved him on. With a sigh, he stepped up and placed his hands on the first of what was already too many rungs.
“About time,” Sonya chided when he appeared.
Steve hauled the rest of his body up with a groan and then walked over to the pile of clean straw where Sonya sat. He slumped down beside her, really more of a collapse halfway through the motion. The loft was completely barren except for the piles of straw randomly placed throughout and a coil of rope in the far corner.
“You know, this really isn’t that bad,” Sonya said approvingly. “I’ve woken up in worse places.”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh really?”
She slugged him on the shoulder. “Don’t get smart.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he replied rubbing his shoulder. “At least not until my body’s healed.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
Steve tilted his head at her. “I’m kidding. It’s really not so bad as that.” He climbed slowly to his feet and crossed the loft to the double doors in the front face of the barn. Sliding the bolt aside, he pushed them open and moonlight flooded their makeshift sleeping quarters. Eerie shadows stretched across wood and hay as Steve’s silhouette stood out against the pale blue canvas of a gibbous moon. He stared from his vantage point back out at the center of town only a couple of miles away. A multitude of lanterns, appearing like fireflies from this distance, outlined the dirt roads cutting through the center of town and illuminated the windows of the buildings. He inhaled contentedly in the face of a soft wind from the east, letting it wash over him, carrying with it the sounds of crickets and the splash of a toad hitting the water of a pond close by.
As much as he wanted to stay in the moment, however, he frowned then, unable to keep the problems of tomorrow from invading his thoughts.
Sonya moved up slowly beside him in the dark. “You know, I’ve always pictured myself with a house in the country.”
Steve made an acknowledging sound but his mind was elsewhere. He worried on the possibility Haldorum’s portal—hastily made as it had been—was not something the old wizard planned, but rather quickly conjured when he saw the opportunity to separate Steve from Azinon. In that event it was possible Haldorum did not know precisely where his portal had dumped them out. It would certainly provide a convenient explanation for why the vaunted First Power had not revealed himself yet.
Steve’s stomach soured at that prospect of being Sonya’s only way home. He had magic, clearly; but he not only lacked the knowledge of how to use his abilities, he did not know if teleporting between worlds was even one of them. What’s more, any attempts to experiment would attract Azinon’s attention like a firefly to a porch light.
So this is the proverbial rock and a hard place, he thought.
Oblivious to his train of thought, Sonya sighed. “A sight like this kind of makes me want to write a poem.”
“You should,” Steve said finally. “You’re better than anyone I know.”
“That poem you read in Mr. Nic’s class wasn’t too bad,” she offered. Steve looked down and scuffed at the floor absently with his shoe, the sad look in his eyes revealing it was a touchy subject. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “What for? It’s nothing you did.”
“Your poem,” she replied. “You don’t have to pretend for me.” She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I knew it was about love the minute you read it. But it wasn’t until you explained what happened after you disappeared with Haldorum and those others that I really understoo
d.”
Steve turned away and walked back into the loft. “Please don’t. You don’t know anything.”
“I know your poem was about Amy,” she said after him. “I know she was the lake, and the other reflection you saw was…”
“What of it?” Steve demanded whirling. “What difference does it make? Okay, fine, yes, the poem was about Amy and the reflection was her ex-slash-current boyfriend. The reflection was the very guy who moved in on the girl I cared about.” Not knowing where else to vent his frustration, he kicked at the straw in disgust.
Sonya exhaled slowly. “I know she hurt you, Steve—and I’m sorry for that.”
He glanced at her silhouette, backlighted by the moonlight, and then away just as quickly when he realized just looking at her calmed him. He was angry, and he wished to remain so. It was an easier emotion to deal with. He did not want to diffuse the one emotion that made Amy’s betrayal sting just a little bit less.
Steve sighed then and thought regretfully on whom his displaced anger was hurting at this moment. “It doesn’t matter,” he said letting the tension ease from his voice. “I made my mistake and I paid for it—am still paying for it.” Though he felt justified in his anger toward Amy, he did not want to punish a friend who was only trying to help. His tone softened and he placed his hands in his back pockets. “Sonya, I wrote that poem before I even went to Amy’s. I knew the truth even before I got there, but I ignored it—mostly because I wanted more to believe I had finally found someone I could fall in love with. I know how much of a sap that makes me sound but that’s what I believed.” He looked down at the floor then, though whether he was more embarrassed or ashamed he could not decide. A self-deprecating smirk crossed his lips then and he said, “Boy, did I have that wrong.”
The two remained silent for some time, standing motionless in the light of the moon. Steve finally broke the awkward silence, feeling he had to say something. “Look, I’m not angry at you for asking. I’m just a little new to all this and it’s still a sensitive subject for me.”
“It’s all right,” Sonya nodded. “It isn’t as though someone you trust stabs you in the back every day.”
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