by Robert Beers
Circumstance paused in his own scrubbing to reach over and strip a soapweed branch of its small leaves and flowers.
Ethan took the handful, and rubbed it between his hands, raising a froth of sweet citrus-smelling lather that cut through the Skunkbush scum, removing both the stain and the smell.
“Ohhhh, that feels better.” Ethan moved from his face to his hair. The water in the creek was cold, coming off the mountain as it did. “How did you know about that plant, Circumstance? Was it some racial memory from your Elf half?”
Circumstance splashed water onto his face before answering. “No,” He said. His expression became thoughtful. “I don't think so ... it's something else.”
Ethan stood up. “Well ... you can tell me about while we walk. I think I remember a mining village near this part of the mountain. I'd like to see if we can reach it before dark.”
Circumstance finished rinsing off. “I know where it is. It's that way.” He pointed to the Southeast.
Ethan paused in pulling on his trousers and looked at the boy. He was right. There was something else going on here besides possible racial memory. He shook his head and continued dressing. Whatever it was, it wasn't hurting the lad. In fact, he seemed healthier, less distracted than he had in Berggren.
The creek where they washed off the residue of the Skunkbush flowed through a swale tucked against the Northeast flanks of Cloudhook. The springs feeding the creek fell in a tinkling waterfall down a rugged cliff face. To the right of the cliff, a goat path worked its way upward in a long, slow curve to a ridge thick with pine trees.
They climbed the path, using their hands when necessary, and followed the ridge upwards through the pines.
The pine forest was quiet. Ethan thought it a good place to ask his questions.
He stooped to pick up a fallen branch, and used it as a staff while they walked. “Why are you doing this, Circumstance? You have to know your mother is terribly worried, don't you?”
“Of course I do, but I have to do this. Remember when I told you about that feeling I had?” Circumstance turned his head to look at Ethan.
He nodded. “I remember. I also remember telling you it might just be the change coming upon you.”
Circumstance turned his eyes to the forest floor. “I know. I didn't think so then, and I still don't. Some things have happened since that day that make me sure of it, now.”
Ethan thought of the Skunkbush, and of how Circumstance hid his tracks without even trying. He looked down at the pine needles on the ground. The boy was doing it, even now. “What sort of things?”
Circumstance sidestepped a tall toadstool with a blood red cap. “I know how to do stuff that my dad, you, or mom never told me how to do. I built a fish trap the right way the first time, and I know no one ever showed me how to do that.
“I know which plants and berries are good for eating, medicine or other things. I know, some of them you showed me, but all the others just popped into my head. The change can't do that, can it?”
Ethan had to agree with him. “No. It can't do that.”
“I also remember you telling me we had a pact. You said if I thought of anything to let you know and you'd help me. Do we still have a pact?” Circumstance looked at Ethan, weighing him.
Ethan tipped the scales in his favor. “I don't break my word, son. Not even if it costs me money to keep it. We will always have our pact, as long as I live. You want my help with something?”
They reached the top of the ridge and looked down into a long shallow valley lined with pines. Smoke rose into the late afternoon air from chimneys within the village they saw tucked into the far Eastern end.
Circumstance sat down upon a large stone thrusting itself through the berm. “There's something I have to do. I'm sure of it, now. Part of it is that I have to be someplace in that direction.” He pointed to the Southeast.
“So, that village is just a stopping point.” Ethan murmured.
“I won't be coming home.” Circumstance kicked his heels against the rock. “Probably, not ever.”
Ethan nodded. “I see. Want to tell me what you think it is you have to do?”
The boy continued to kick his heels. “I don't know. I just know it's important, really important.”
* * * *
Thaylli eased up the window to her room. The cold night air flowed in, and spread across the floor. She could hear her father's snores mingling with those of her brothers. A slight smell of flatulence mingled with that of the pines outside.
She paused to listen for the sound of anyone stirring outside her door. Good. They were still all fast asleep.
Her bag went out the window first and she crawled out after it. The drop to the ground outside was very short, and she made it without turning an ankle.
“Bardoc must be with me.” She thought as she shouldered her bag, and began walking down the path that would take her out of the village, and towards the Wayfarer Hut where Adam and the old Wizard had stayed before beginning their journey towards Grisham.
She patted the water bag tied to her hip as she walked, and thought about what she would do when she caught up with Adam.
Clouds scudded past the moon high in the night sky, hiding a faint black shadow that floated along with them.
* * * *
Mashglach looked up at the young Dragon's approach. The disturbance irritated him somewhat, but he pushed his temper back with force of will. Something was wrong. He felt it as well as the rest of Dragonglade.
“What is it, Drinaugh?” His tone was sharper than he intended and it caused the young Dragon to tremble in apprehension.
“I b..beg your pardon, honorable Mashglach. I can come back later, if you wish.” He turned as if to leave.
Mashglach's wings twitched in a massive sigh. “No, stay. It's a poor Dragon who cannot give some time to the young. What do you wish of me?”
Drinaugh dry-washed his hands. It was clear to Mashglach that whatever the youngster wanted, it was very important to him. He settled back on his haunches and closed the book of prophecy he'd been studying.
“Uh ... I wish ... I wish ... toleaveDragongladeandtravelEasttofind myhumanfriend Adamandtoseeifheiswell.” The last came out all in a rush as if it were spoken as one word.
Mashglach hid his smile within himself. He'd had a feeling this was going to happen. It was hinted at in the prophecies, in the very one he'd been studying, as a matter of fact. The return of Labad's reign was to have a Dragon involved in it, and it appeared Drinaugh was going to be the one. He almost wished he were six thousand years younger. Almost.
He leaned forward and asked the question again, being very careful to keep his voice level. “What do you wish of me?”
Drinaugh swallowed. “Iwishto ... I mean, I wish to go find Adam, my human friend? You know, the one who came with the Wizard?”
Mashglach nodded. “I know who you speak of, young Drinaugh. What I do not know is why you wish this. Dragonkind has been content to remain in Dragonglade and devote ourselves to our studies. It has been this way for millennia. Why do you wish to change this?” Mashglach was well aware of Drinaugh's discovery of his talent, but he wanted to hear how the youngster would respond to the question.
The young Dragon's eyes glowed with the intensity of his emotions. “I ... have to. It's my talent, you see, and he's my friend. I can help him, I'm sure I can.”
Drinaugh looked at Mashglach for a moment and then burst out with. “Dragons are so boring!”
Mashglach could not help the smile. “May I point out the obvious, young Drinaugh, that you happen to be a Dragon?”
“I ... didn't mean to say that.” Drinaugh looked as if he wished he could crawl into himself and close the opening after him.
Mashglach stood and stretched his wings out. The popping sound of joints and sinews realigning filled the study of the Winglord.
“Of course you did. If you hadn't, it would not have been uttered. That is part of your talent, you cannot discriminate, an
d those around you instinctively feel that.
“The truth is as much a part of you as it is in all Dragons. You just happen to carry it at the surface of your personality. Never lose that, Drinaugh. It would be a tragedy to do so. You are going to need it as you undertake your quest.”
It took nearly all of Drinaugh's self control not to embrace the Winglord.
Mashglach's gaze stayed upon the doorway long after Drinaugh left. Finally, a sigh passed through him, and he turned back to his book. “Good fortune, young Dragon. May Bardoc bless you, and us as well.” He added silently.
* * * *
Ethan and Circumstance walked into the shallow valley just as the sun dropped below the horizon. The pines were releasing their scent into the early evening air, and the valley was thick with the smell of resin, wood smoke and cooking.
A small party of miners intercepted them, coming down from the upper slopes of the mountain. The oldest tipped his hat to the two travelers.
“Good evenin’ to ye. Your faces be new to me. Just travelin’ through?”
Ethan looked at the man. He had the appearance of one who'd spent most of his life mining. He was big enough for a couple of regular-sized fellows with arms the size of Ethan's thighs, and he smiled at Ethan and Circumstance through a bristling beard that reached to his chest under which a tartan shirt strained to hold back the bulk beneath it.
Circumstance replied to the miner's question. “We're just up from the eastern side of the mountains to the west, Sire Miner.”
“The boy tells the truth, we're from Berggren. Is there an inn in the village with food and a bed?” Ethan spoke while the two parties walked toward the village.
Another of the miners pointed to the right hand side of the broad street running through the center of the village. “Aye. Sire Westcott's place'll have what ye be needin.” Look for the sign of a Stag's head. That'll be the inn.”
“Thank you, sires.” Ethan placed a hand over his heart, and gave a quick bow of his head, which the oldest of the miners returned. “We will remember your kindness.”
“Given in charity, sire traveler. No remembrance is necessary,” The large miner replied. “Good eve to ye. We part company here.”
“Good eve.” Ethan waved at them and Circumstance hastened to join him, as the miners’ path curved off to the left into a cluster of cozy-looking cottages.
Circumstance looked up at Ethan as they continued on into the village. “That sounded like a ritual.”
“What did?”
Circumstance placed his hand over his heart and then gave a fair imitation of Ethan's baritone. “Thank you, sires, we will remember your kindness.”
“Oh, that.” Ethan grinned. “That's exactly what it was. Someone started that ages ago as a way to keep people from hacking each other to pieces over small differences. Could be very disruptive to a family outing.”
“And the ritual gave them enough space to not have to defend their honor.” Circumstance finished the thought.
Ethan had stopped being surprised at the boy's insights. He pointed to a sign hanging from an iron holder on the side of a two-story building with four dormer windows in the top story. “There's the inn. Let's see what they have for supper, Ok?”
“Ok.”
The Innkeeper hailed the two travelers as they came in through his door. He placed the tankards burdening his arms onto the table before him, where they were quickly snatched up by his thirsty patrons.
“Welcome. Welcome travelers, to the Stag's head Inn. I'm Westcott, the owner of this humble establishment. How can I be of service?”
Ethan sat at the table indicated. Circumstance chose the chair across from him. “Two large helpings of whatever that is we smell coming from your kitchen, sire Westcott, and if you could trouble yourself to bring me one of those tankards I'd be eternally grateful.”
Circumstance raised a hand. “I'd like some berry juice, if you have any, please?”
Westcott said to Circumstance. “Black or Red? I'll see which we have fresh pressed.”
As he passed Ethan, he murmured. “Well mannered lad you've got there.”
The half-elven boy looked around the interior of the inn while they waited for their food to arrive. A number of the round top tables were filled with village folk eating and drinking, talking and drinking, or just drinking.
“Gonna be a cold one this winter, Merillat.” A man with one of those beards that only covered the upper lip and chin spoke to a husky looking fellow hunched over a tankard across from him. “Hope yer sis gets it into her head to come back home afore then.”
The one called Merillat took a pull from his tankard and then set it back onto the table with a clunk. “She'd better. Runnin’ off like that. Fool girl, actin’ like she's without a thought in her head. Ma an’ Da beside themselves with worry. I tell ya, Petron, yer lucky ya don't have one. Sisters're nothin’ but trouble.”
A surge of guilt washed over Circumstance, and he hastily switched his attention to another table. This one held two young couples who were in a considerably better mood than the brooding fellow before.
“You should have seen it, Decora.” The other young woman leaned forward, exposing a generous supply of bosom. “He just stood there, statue-like, and stared at the cave-in. For a moment nothing happened, and then it started to open, like a fall in reverse, real slow like.”
“First time I ever saw magik,” the lighter colored of the two young men spoke, as he reached for his drink. “Not sure I ever want to see it again, shivered my figgin, it did.”
“That's ‘cause you weren't on the inside ‘spectin’ to die, Helm,” the darker of the two spoke after putting his tankard down.
Circumstance's juice was placed before him and ignored in favor of the conversation going on next to him.
Ethan quickly drained half his ale and listened as well with a more passing interest.
The young man called Helm looked suitably contrite upon being chided by the other. “Sorry there, Rob. Didn't mean nothin’ by it. Saichele was there. She knows I helped with the diggin'.”
The one called Decora reached over and hugged Rober. “Well, I'm glad Adam was there, magik or no.”
Ethan set his ale down, and stood. “Excuse me, did you just say the name, Adam?”
Rober looked up at Ethan, measuring him. “Aye,” He said slowly, keeping an arm around Decora's shoulder. “That she did. And what would your business be with the man?”
Ethan heard the implied threat behind the young man's tone, and whispered to Circumstance out of the side of his mouth. “Listen closely, This is one of those ritual times we talked about.”
He held out both his hands, palm up, and spoke to Rober and his friends as a group. “My intentions are peaceful, sires, ladies. I knew someone called Adam a few years ago. He was traveling with his sister, west of the spine. We traveled together, I taught him use of his sword. The sword was more remarkable in appearance than most, it looked to be a lord's blade.”
Saichele gasped. “I remember that! Oh, he looked so handsome with it strapped to his thigh.”
Helm gave her a long look that spoke jealous volumes. “I saw it, too,” he muttered. “Thought it were pretty showy for man to be wearin'.”
Rober was still a bit suspicious. “Adam. I remember him as a big man, over six foot with thick black hair.”
Ethan dropped his hands. “I apologize. The Adam I knew was a young man of average height, sandy hair and brown eyes.”
“Was his hair thick and wavy with those gorgeous highlights like our Adam's?”
Ethan thought Rober was going to have his hands full with this one. From the look of him, he knew it, too.
Decora squeezed Rober's arm. “That's him! He knew him.”
“Aye, That he did. I'll give him that.” Rober patted Decora's hand as it lay on his arm.
“Sit, traveler.” He waved at Ethan's chair. “Drink your ale, and ask us your questions. Your Adam is ours, and I'm one of the many in this vi
llage that owe him their life.”
The food arrived, heaping platters of steaming hot stew with thick crusts of still-warm bread that smelled of butter and yeast. Ethan and Circumstance dug in with a will, and Ethan asked his questions in-between mouthfuls. Circumstance listened, and as he did, that sense of purpose built within him.
Ethan asked Rober about their life debt to Adam and heard the story of the miraculous mine rescue. Rober dutifully left out the creation of the diamond lining to the mine and was quick to prevent Saichele or Decora from adding it to the conversation.
“I saw none of that in the lad when I knew him,” Ethan mused, after Rober finished telling of his rescue from the mine. “Of course, he showed a lot of wizardry with the sword.” His eyes took on a far away look as his memory took him back to that day outside of Silgert and that first lesson in swordsmanship.
“Oooo, tell us about it.” Decora and Saichele chorused.
Another tankard plunked down next to Ethan's arm. “Thought you might need this,” Westcott said, as he swiped a cloth across the condensation on the table. “These girls'll dry a man's throat to dust, with their love of tales.”
Circumstance looked up at Westcott's approach and turned his attention back to the stew, the bread and the conversation.
Ethan swallowed a healthy portion of the ale. It was good stuff, bittersweet with the nut-like flavor of roasted malt and fresh hops. “I'd just woken up from a week long drunk. Adam and his sister were sitting on a log talking; their voices woke me up. I have to admit I was less than polite at the time.”
The two men, having suffered through hangovers before, nodded their heads in understanding.
“Adam gave me some medication that took the headache away, and soon I felt good enough to find out some things about them, who they were, where they were coming from. The usual questions.”
He received some grunts of assent from his audience.
“Tell us about the sword fight.” Decora urged.
“I'm getting there,” Ethan reassured his listeners. “I offered to guide them through the forest into Dunwattle. They'd been chased out of a vile little pit called Silgert.”