by Robert Beers
They stepped out onto the front porch of the Inn and into a crowd of people gathered holding picks, shovels and other digging tools.
Milward murmured to Westcott, “looks like you're not the only one.”
Adam leaned forward and spoke quietly in Milward's ear, “what are you going to do? You said you were too weak to even do a small shaping.”
Milward whispered back, “I'm not going to do anything. You are.”
In answer to Adam's blank look, he said, “think of it as some long overdue practice.”
The mine sat perched on the top of one of the rocky slopes to the north of the village, a good two-mile hike up-slope. Tailings from the mine spread down the face of the slope in an ever-expanding wave.
Single logs, hand milled into timbers roughly two feet square, formed the entrance to the mine. A pile of dirt and gravel, intermixed with huge stones filling it, told the tale of the disaster that Nowsek had spoken about.
The men of the village rushed forward and began digging at the stuff of the cave-in, but the size of the stones hindered them. Most were far too large to shift, even with more than two men working on each one. Their breath showed as puffs of steam in the air.
Some of the women of the village lent a hand in the digging, with the rest huddled in a group, lending support to those whose sons or husbands lay trapped in the mine.
Milward sidled over to Nowsek, who was struggling with two other men to roll away one of the boulders. “Tell them to step away from the opening.” He spoke for Nowsek's ear alone.
The Mayor nodded once and bellowed to the other diggers. “Step back! Back I say!”
The would-be rescuers stopped their digging and looked at the Mayor. His wife pushed through the crowd and latched onto his coat front. “Why are you stopping? Our Petron is in there! You have to get him out! Get him out now!”
Milward reached into the middle of Nowsek and his wife and pushed them apart. The effrontery of the act shocked Maibell into silence.
The Wizard nodded. “That's better. Now, if you'll just step back a bit more, we'll get this rescue done up proper.”
Maibell recovered from her shock and screamed at him, “how are you going to do it, old man? With Wizardry?”
Milward's calm expression and her husband's white face gave Maibell her answer. She shrank back against Nowsek, her face a mask of terror. “Please.” She drew the word out as a long, terrified sob. “Spare us, oh mighty one. I meant no disrespect. We're poor people.”
She reached out to clutch at Milward's robes, but he pulled back with an expression of distaste on his face. “Oh, get hold of yourself, woman! I am not a sorcerer; I'm a Wizard. I'm The Wizard, Milward, and if you people will be patient for a little while, my young friend and I will open a way for your people to get out.” He pointed at the mine entrance for emphasis. “Do you want them out, or not?” His voice rang across the face of the mountain.
The crowd did not answer but, to a man, they all stepped back from where they stood by a couple of paces.
“Good, very good.” He reached over and drew Adam to him. “Now's your turn, lad. Remember the bridge I made back then after you blew up the Garlocs?”
Adam nodded. How could he forget it, with Milward reminding him of it every chance he got?
Milward rubbed his hands together briskly. “Good. I want you to picture a straw thin tube with that same stiffness. Have you got it?”
Adam nodded and reached out with the power. He felt the pressure of the shaping build in the back of his skull.
“Right. Now insert the tube into the center of the cave-in. Try to feel for the end of the collapse as you push it through. You want it to extend beyond both sides. But not too quickly, now.” Milward cautioned. “You don't want to run through any of the folk we're trying to rescue.”
Adam reached out with his senses as he pushed the magik stuff of the tube through the rubble blocking up the mine. “I'm through,” he called out to Milward. “It went through pretty easily.”
The Wizard grunted. “A good sign. Hopefully, it means the collapse is only within the length of the entrance itself. If they were working inside the mine proper, they should all be ok.”
“Get off me, woman!” Milward tried to disentangle himself from the thankful embrace of Nowsek's wife.
“You still have the tube held in place?” Milward said, as he handed Maibell back to Nowsek.
Adam could feel a small strain building with the pressure of the shaping. “It's still there.”
“You're doing fine, lad, now begin expanding it, slowly now, just like when you pushed it in. We don't want to collapse the rest of the mine on top of them.”
Adam willed the tube to expand. He could feel it forcing the stuff of the cave-in back into the walls and ceiling of the mine. The strain increased.
Behind him someone yelled, “Bardoc save us all! Look at that! The mouth is opening!”
Milward murmured in his ear, “pay no attention to them, Adam. You're doing just fine. Nice and easy now, nice and easy.”
Adam concentrated on pushing the material back. He was beginning to understand what Milward had been talking about when he spoke of the price of shaping. The strain and pressure continued to build as he eased the opening into the mine wider and wider. He tried pulling in more power from the land around him to compensate.
“Good lad. You're doing well.” Milward encouraged him.
A man's head emerged from the gloom inside the tube. A woman screamed. “Tyndale! Oh thank Bardoc.”
A younger voice called out at the same time. “Father!”
Another head followed the first one, and then another, with voices from the crowd yelling their names. “Rober. Thayil. Hergin. The names went on as Adam held the tube open. He was beginning to sweat, even though the air was freezing.
Finally, the heads stopped appearing, and he looked at Milward.
The Wizard shook his head. “Can you keep it open a little longer? Just to make sure?”
“I'll try, but it's getting harder to hold it.” A bead of sweat ran into his eye.
Nowsek and his wife held each other, their faces masks showing and grief mingled as one. Finally, another head appeared and merged into the shape of a man bent over and looking behind himself. As he emerged from the tube, the people could see he was dragging another miner.
“Petron!” Maibell ran across the space between the crowd and the entrance, and enveloped her son into her ample bosom while smothering him with kisses.
Milward was at the boy's side instantly. “Are there any more of you in there? Come, boy. Answer quickly! Are there?”
Petron struggled out of his mother's embrace. There was a scratch on his forehead and blood on his chin. “No, sire. Me an’ Duggin were the last.”
Milward deflated with a sigh. “Thank Bardoc for that. You can release the shaping, Adam. They're all out.”
Adam did so, and slowly collapsed face down into the snow.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Seeker skimmed over the surface of the northern plains, tasting with its senses the small lives that floated over the creeks and streams. It passed over some larger lives that interested it briefly, but not enough to cause it to inhabit them.
Food was taken by absorbing some of them that came across its path while it sniffed the ether and drifted in a winding, roughly Southern direction along the shores of Northlake. Its power allowed it to do so on a subsistence level, only. The true feast would come when it found its host.
* * * *
Circumstance wrapped the bricks of cheese carefully in the scraps of cloth he'd collected over the past week. The cheese made up the last of the supplies he had for his journey.
The restlessness he'd been feeling had grown into a driving need to travel. He hadn't yet learned exactly where he needed to go, but he did know it was to the South and to the East.
He'd decided not to tell his Mother or Ethan about his leaving. Mother would cry and Ethan would be understand
ing, and in the end, he would be forced to put off what he had to do now.
“Whatcha doing, Circ?” Jonas stood in the pantry door, his tattered blanket trailing in his right hand.
Circumstance finished wrapping the brick of cheese. With that one, he had two of each color, white and yellow. He preferred the sharp tang of the white, but he didn't want to leave the house bare of one over the other.
He looked at his little brother. “I'm taking a trip, Jonas.”
Jonas’ eyes lit up. “Kin I go, too?”
The question brought him a sad smile. “No, I'm sorry, but it's something I have to do by myself.”
“It's ‘portant, huh?” Jonas’ question was half statement of fact.
“Yes, yes, it is.” Circumstance hefted the backpack and slipped his arm through the straps. Ethan's teachings about the wild and its ways scrolled through his memory. They would all be carefully gone over as he journeyed. He hoped to be proven worthy of the time his surrogate father had spent with him.
“An’ I can't go.” Jonas looked somber as he struggled to grasp the adult concept.
Circumstance knelt and put a hand to each of Jonas’ shoulders. “I need you to look after your sister for me.” He knew the request was a trite one, but it worked on his little brother as he expected.
Jonas puffed out his chest and nodded his head, silently promising to do his best with his new responsibilities.
“Good.” Circumstance looked out the window in the front room of the row house. The crescent moon was climbing above the rooftops. “I've got to go now. You head back to bed and get some sleep.”
“Bye, bye Circ,” Jonas said, as his older brother eased himself out the front door and closed it quietly behind him.
“Circumstance. Time to wake up.” Ellona knocked on the bedroom door. There was no answer, so she knocked again. “He must be sleeping deeply.” She thought.
“Come on, sleepy head. Rise and shine.” There was still no answer, so she eased open the door. She didn't want to startle the boy awake.
“Ethan!” He started awake at her anguished scream, and then ran down the hallway in the direction it came from.
He found Ellona frantically searching through Circumstance's room; a part of his mind registered that the boy's bed was made.
She looked up as he entered the room. “He's gone! I've looked everywhere. I thought he was just sleeping in, but he's gone!”
Ethan crossed the room in two strides and took her in his arms. She clung to him desperately, digging her nails into his shoulders.
“I've looked everywhere. Some of his clothes are gone, and so is his pack.” She sobbed out her fear into his chest.
“He said it was ‘portant.”
They turned and saw Jonas in his nightshirt, standing in the hallway.
Ethan dropped to his knees and looked Jonas in the eyes. “Did he say where he was going? Try to remember now, Jonas, it is very important that you remember.”
Jonas screwed up his face as he thought. “Circ said it was ‘portant.”
“What was important?” Ethan pressed gently for details.
“What he hadda do.” Jonas elaborated with a tone of satisfaction.
Ellona half sobbed in exasperation, and Ethan let out his breath in a slow three-count. This was going to be like searching for diamonds in a coal mine, but he had to find out where Circumstance was going. The boy had mentioned feeling that there was something he had to do. Now he was off somewhere, trying to do it.
“Listen carefully to me, Jonas.” Ethan worked to keep his voice calm. “Did he say what it was he had to do?”
Jonas screwed up his face again and chewed on the end of his thumb. “No.” The answer took a time coming out. He followed it closely with. “But he said I hadda do somethin’ for him.”
“What was it, Jonas?” Ellona crouched down next to Ethan. Her insides felt as if a part of her had been ripped away.
Jonas’ face split in a wide grin of brotherly pride. “He said I hadda take care of Sari for him.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Ethan tried for something to give him an edge in his search.
“No, sorry,” Jonas yawned hugely. “Kin I have some breakfast?”
Ellona's sigh spoke volumes.
Ethan squeezed her arm and stood. “Sure you can. Come with me to the kitchen.”
He looked at Ellona as Jonas ran to get ready for his breakfast. “I'll find him, you can be sure of that.”
Ellona smiled a sad slow smile. “I know.”
* * * *
Circumstance balanced himself against the trunk of the tall pine as he shaded his eyes against the rising sun. Cloudhook stood as a triangular silhouette on a horizon outlined in fire. The voice inside him told him he still had many days of walking before he made it to the mountain. It was the same voice he'd begun hearing when the villagers had burned his mother's cottage.
He had his direction now, so he turned on the branch and climbed back down. His pack lay in the tree, stuffed firmly into a v-shaped crook. He lifted the pack out of the crook and held it in one hand, as he hung from the branch with the other. The drop was not too far, so he wasn't afraid of breaking something when he hit the ground.
Once out of the tree, he set himself toward Cloudhook and began walking.
The inner voice lectured him on what he saw as he walked. This plant was good to eat. That one was not. This tree's bark would ease the pain of a burn. That one held fibers long enough to use as fishing line or a bowstring in a pinch, and so on. He'd long since ceased wondering where it came from, and the unease he'd first felt diminished with each mile closed between he and the mountain.
Over the past week, Circumstance discovered he knew how to rig a gig for trapping fish and a snare for small game. His father and Ethan had both taught him many things, but those were not among them.
The cold nights did not bother him as much as he thought they would. His elven part seemed to embrace the coolness like an old friend.
His path began to climb and the pines grew thicker. Soon he was walking on a deep cushion of needles. The air held the sharp, musty scent of aged pine. A number of the mushrooms folk called Gnome's Footstools poked their golden brown tops through the floor covering. He stopped long enough to pick several of them. They would cook up nicely with a few wild potatoes and some fish.
The rise in the land crested after a quarter mile and then it fell away sharply. Circumstance checked the ground to either side of where he stood. The one to the right looked to be the easiest for climbing, and the valley below the rise appeared idyllic. A slow-moving stream ran its length, with the majority of the valley land to the north of the stream. Broad-leafed trees grew along the water, and he could see ripples where fish sampled bugs that came too close to the surface.
The pines behind him held a quiet within, as if nature considered their stand to be a sanctuary for solemn meditation, whereas the valley Circumstance descended into was nature at full volume. Songbirds sang their melodies over the drone of the cicadas in the trees and competed with the pipes and croaks of the frogs in the stream.
He decided the day was shaping up to be a nice one for a walk, and the last of the morning's fog was already burning off when he chose a fishing spot. Shallow rapids fed its bubbles into a calm eddy lined with cattails and rushes. An excellent spot for a nice fat trout, his inner voice told him. All he needed was a few of the bugs flying over the stream, and something he could carve into a spear.
An orb weaver with a bright yellow and black body had her web stretched between two of the cattails. A number of mayflies were stuck to it. He helped himself to a few while her attention was occupied with wrapping up some of the others for a later meal.
He bowed to the owner of the web after taking his bait. “Thank you, my lady. I will try to return the favor, if ever I can.”
The spider continued to work on her pantry and ignored Circumstance's good manners.
Finding something suitable as a fishi
ng spear proved to be more work than finding bait. None of the broadleaf trees were the type that grew straight limbs, including their saplings. He was beginning to think he would have to try his hand at setting a trap in the rapids, when the cattails caught his eye. Some of their reeds were quite large, nearly man-high. Perhaps all he had to do was carve a spearhead, instead of an entire spear.
Strapped to his thigh was a small, but very sharp, knife. Ethan's lessons in woodworking would serve him well right now. He waded into the stream and cut a reed as thick as a large man's thumb, and long enough to more than serve his purpose. The day was warming up, so he would dry well enough. He selected a piece of windfall whose shape suggested enough of a point and finished it off with the knife.
The last few inches of the point were carved into a plug that would fit into the end of the reed. A half dozen blades of the tall water grass functioned as the wrapping that secured the point to the reed. A few casts into the soft ground proved the spear's worthiness.
So, he had the tools for fishing. Now, if the fish would only cooperate.
* * * *
“He's been by here. I'm sure of it.” Ethan ran his finger along the depression he read as one of Circumstance's boot prints. The boy walked like an Elf, toe first, but without the crouch the full bloods preferred.
This was a lucky find. Circumstance had an uncanny ability to disguise his tracks, and he seemed to do it without effort, as if it was second nature. Ethan had spent a frustrating two days seeking some sign of Circumstance's trail. The footprint under his finger was a welcome change in the pattern.
The boy was smart. He had to give him that. Circumstance left early enough in the morning that even the dairy farmers were still sleeping. No one had seen him walk out of Berggren, not even the dogs.
He stood up and walked slowly, head low, following the footsteps. Sometimes he had to look carefully, as Circumstance's feet found rocks, pieces of bark, patches of springy grass or anything else capable of hiding a footprint. The prints followed a track leading to the southeast, mostly south. There wasn't much between Berggren and that direction other than Cloudhook and its few small villages. Or ... he could possibly be heading toward Grisham. But the track would have to be more easterly. At least, it would be, if the boy were going there.