by Robert Beers
* * * *
“How do the bruises feel now?” Milward marched along the path a little behind and slightly to the right of Adam.
Adam rubbed his cheek where one of the stones had struck him. “Most of the ache is gone, thanks.”
The Aspen trees gave way to Oaks and Cottonwoods. They were nearing the feet of Cloud Hook. Behind them, the flanks of the mountain climbed into the blue sky, the midday sun glinted off the eternal ice on its peaks. The path had become a series of switchbacks, and Adam and Milward had to lean slightly back to compensate for the steepness of the grade. The air smelled of wood and herbs and. something else.
“Do you smell that?” Adam asked Milward, as they were working their way through the switchbacks.
“Smell what?” His wizard's staff tap tapped as he kept himself steady on the steep path. “The woods? The wildflowers? Yesterday's rain?”
“No, cooking. There's a faint smell of cooking. Bad cooking.” Adam's nose wrinkled as a stronger whiff passed by. “Real bad cooking.”
Milward sniffed the air, and then began to cough. “Houwggh! Ouwghh! Oh, that's foul. Worse than Dwarf stew, even.”
“Could it be more Garlocs?” Adam's eyes did a rapid side-to-side dance as he checked to see if they were in any immediate danger. He disagreed with the Wizard's statement. He rather liked Dwarf stew.
Milward held a cloth over his nose. “No, Garlocs don't even understand the concept of fire, much less how to use it for cooking. This stuff smells bad enough to be elfish cooking, but we're too far south for Elves.”
“Elves?” Adam turned toward Milward in surprise. “Aunt and Uncle used to tell us stories about Elves. I remember them telling us about their great beauty and wisdom. They never said anything about the cooking.”
Milward looked at Adam with disbelief on his face. “Elves with beauty and wisdom are a combination I've never heard of. Your Aunt and Uncle must've had a fine imagination, that's all I can say. Those were stories, lad. This is reality.”
“They're not like that? They're not older and wiser than humans?”
Milward snorted, blowing out his moustaches. “Not exactly. Elves are a younger race than Humans and far less developed. They are, on average, about the size of an early teen. The women are smaller and finer boned than the men and they have a tendency to walk in a half crouch, as if they're skulking.
“What do they look like? I mean, how are they different from you and I?” Adam asked.
“Other than size, you mean?” Milward asked.
Adam nodded. “Uh huh.”
The old Wizard scratched an itch on his left shoulder. “Well, now, their hair is uniformly black, as well as their eyes. Elfish skin is darker than most humans, except for some of the far southern clans. It's usually more of an olive tone instead of our pale tan.”
“Their features are much sharper than that of a human. The nose is usually very small and pointed, as well as the chin and teeth. Their ears are large, and lie flat against the skull. They have pointed tips, making them an Elf's most distinguished feature.”
“What about their voices? Aunt and Uncle used to tell Charity and I about the beautiful singing Elves would do.”
“Not these Elves, Adam.” Milward shook his head. “You would find their voices whiny and nasal, at best.”
“Well, if that smell actually is Elvish cooking, I think I'm going to find out shortly.” Adam waved at the air in front of his face.
The odor became stronger as they walked down the path. At the end of the switchbacks the path widened and leveled out. The wind shifted, and the smell became almost palpable.
“Uuugghhh! It smells like sour vegetables mixed with rotten eggs.”
Milward nodded. “Sounds like the Elfish diet, all right.”
“They like rotten food?”
“From what I hear.” Milward spat out an excess of saliva. “I've been told by some of the wandering folk who trade with them that they prefer it that way. They say it has more taste than fresh.”
“Yuk!”
Milward patted Adam on the shoulder. “I quite agree.”
His patting changed to a grip of iron that halted Adam in his tracks. “They've a Shaper with them,” he muttered.
“A Wizard!?” Adam rubbed the spot where Milward's fingers had dug in.
Milward shook his head. “No, a Shaper.” He emphasized the word. “Wizards, such as you and I, can shape all the various types and forms of the world's energies. A Shaper has the ability to only work with one form or another. Such as fire, earth, water and the like.”
“Can you tell what kind this one is?” Adam crouched down next to the old Wizard.
A thicket of Huckleberry bushes blocked their view of the Elf campsite. The sound of voices was faintly audible, and Adam caught a word or two. Milward proved accurate in his description of how they sounded. It was whiny, with a harsh edge that he found disturbing, irritating and completely disagreeable.
Milward raised himself up to try to peer over the thicket. He returned to his crouch with a shake of his head. “I can't see to be sure, but it feels like a Fire Shaper.”
“It?” Adam's eyebrows raised in question.
Milward shrugged. “It's the best pronoun that fits. A Shaper gives themselves over entirely to their talent. They loose all sexual identity. A Fire Shaper's heat will cause a subtle distortion in the air around them. It's pretty easy to tell if you're looking for it.”
Adam parted a portion of the thicket in front of him. Faint forms moved on the other side, seen through the thinning of the leaf pattern. “How could you tell a shaper was with them? I still can't sense anything.”
“Experience, my boy. It's that simple. Experience I had hoped you'd never have to go through, and maybe not, if Bardoc grants us any luck.”
Milward gripped his staff and used it to help himself to a standing position. “I think it's best we detour around these folk. Follow me.”
He chose a path that led through several Cottonwoods that grew alongside a small creek choked with grasses and a vine that bore small yellow flowers.
He pointed at the vine as they passed by it. “Mind the vine. If you crush its leaves, you'll take a Dragon's lifetime trying to get its scent off you.”
Adam halted his foot before it could come down on a thick bundle of the leaves in question. “Thanks for the warning,” he whispered.
Milward didn't answer, but continued to push through the undergrowth.
Adam's attention was taken momentarily by a patch of Morels growing at the base of a large Oak that encroached upon the Cottonwoods’ territory.
He bent to pick some of the delicacies when a harsh voice called out. “Strangers!”
The Elves had found them. Milward's chosen path led them right into a party making its way back to the camp.
They soon found themselves bracketed by several Elves with short swords. The weapons’ edges were wavy with hammer marks, crude, but still effective for the killing.
Milward was in front of Adam. He whispered over his shoulder. “Don't do anything to startle them, and keep your power hidden, if at all possible.”
“No talking!” The command was followed by a whack with the flat of a blade against the Wizard's thigh. Milward cried out in pain.
Adam reacted without thought. The power built within him, and erupted in a rush, sending the blade wielder flying backwards through the trees like a thrown stone.
The old Wizard hissed at Adam. “Now you've torn it! Look! Here comes their Shaper.”
Adam looked to where Milward pointed. The Elf running in their direction looked like the others. Crude, roughly woven robes and a dirty breechcloth was the basic costume, except this Elf carried a staff covered with carvings, and the air shimmered around its body, creating a halo of distortion.
The phalanx of Elves parted to allow their Shaper to step through. It looked at Adam and Milward, as well as to either side in a searching gesture. Its gaze swept past Adam one more time, and then s
napped back to him alone.
“You. You're the one.” The voice, like that of the others, was harsh and nasal.
Adam looked back at the Shaper. Lank black hair brushed its shoulders, divided by the extended points of its long ears. The eyebrows arched upwards, giving its face a feral expression, which was augmented by pointed teeth, bared in a humorless smile. Its skin was the olive color Milward had him about. The old Wizard never mentioned the acne.
He forced himself to relax, to act nonchalant in the face of the Shaper's accusation. “What are you talking about? The one ... what?”
“I smell your magik, Human. It covers this clearing.” The Elf's arm swept around, indicating the mentioned area. “We will see who has the most power, you and I. Human or Elf.” It finished the statement by tapping its right thumb against its chest.
“No! You can't! He has no experience! Look how young he is.” Milward tried to step between Adam and the Shaper. It took four Elves to drag the old Wizard away.
Adam looked at the struggling Wizard. “Can't you use your magik? Translocate us out of here, or fight them off?”
Milward shook his head. “There's too many of them to fight. We could take care of maybe half their number, but I can't be sure a blade wouldn't get through. I'm not going to risk your hide on a mass fight if I can help it. Translocation is out of the question. You don't know how to do it, and it's something a Wizard can only do for himself. I'm sorry.”
He looked down at the Elves that held his arms. “You can let go now.”
“Is that what you want me to do then? Fight a duel!?” Adam stared at Milward in disbelief.
“I'm sorry, my boy, but it's the only way we have a chance to get out of this without you being killed. If you win, the rest of the Elves will let us go in peace.”
“And if I don't?”
“I'll do my best to heal your injuries.”
“Thank you, so very much.”
“Enough talk!” The Elf Fire Shaper snapped. “Come, young Wizard, show me your strength. If you have any.” It braced itself, the staff held out with both hands gripping the ends.
Milward called out. “Please, show some mercy. He's young. He hasn't had the practice you have.”
“Well then, old father,” the Fire Shaper sneered, “He will get some. Even if it is a last lesson.”
“No!” Milward's surge forward was smothered by the several Elves who bore him to the ground.
Adam looked back at the Fire Shaper. The distortion halo expanded, and he could feel a wash of heat with it.
“I don't want to fight you,” he said, even as he crouched and began to feel the pressure of the power building within him.
“No matter, Human.” The Shaper called back as its smile broadened. “I want to fight you.”
The blast of superheated air from the shaper's staff turned the trees behind Adam into torches, and singed the back of his hair as he dropped to the ground and rolled under its path. His release of the power was off, and it ploughed into the ground before the shaper, sending earth and rock into it with explosive force.
The shaper's scream scraped across Adam's nerves like nails on a blackboard.
“You did it, Adam! You did it!” Milward shook off the Elves holding his arms, and rushed over to help Adam back to his feet.
The Elves stood where they had been when the short-lived duel started. Not one of the party made a move to help their fallen comrade. It lay on the clearing floor, writhing in agony, most of its legs below the knee shredded to the bone.
Milward walked over to where the Shaper lay, and looked down at it impassively. “Will you give the lad quarter now?”
The Shaper whimpered incoherently as its hands groped to find a way to stop the pain.
Milward grunted. “I'll take that as a ‘yes'. Come on, Adam. We can leave now.”
“No.” Adam finished brushing the last of the forest litter off his clothes.
“No!?” Milward stared at his young protégé, aghast. “This ... thing forced a duel on you only because it was so sure of its own victory. It would have cooked you to death, you know, without any thought of mercy, and you want to stay here? Why?”
“It needs help.” Adam said simply.
“After what it tried to do to you?” Milward couldn't believe his ears.
“No, because of what it tried to do to me. If we leave without trying to help, we'll be acting as it did. I wouldn't want to go to sleep with that on my mind.”
Milward sighed in resignation. “Yes, I suppose you're right. Let's see what we can do. You know it can't expect any help from that lot.” He pointed to the Elves, who were making their way back to their cookpot.
Adam stood over the Shaper. It was now unconscious and in shock, mercifully out of pain. He built the power slowly, conscious of a flow coming from outside that felt different from what he used in rescuing the miners.
He tried to visualize the Shaper's legs as they had looked before the duel, but he had only a faint recollection, and gave up on the idea, choosing instead to let the power work through his emotions with his mind functioning only as guide.
He released the pressure at the point where it had become intolerable, and let it flow into the body of the Shaper.
The Elf awoke out of shock and screamed as if its lungs would burst. The sound became unbearable and Adam had to put his hands over his ears. He tried to halt the flow of power, but it wouldn't stop. The screams increased in volume and intensity as its body began to glow.
The forest fire the Shaper's attack had started suddenly died as if blown out like a candle.
The glow around the Shaper intensified to the point where Adam had to take one hand off an ear to shield his eyes, and still the power flowed.
He began to feel weak and his knees started to buckle.
“Adam!” Milward shouted into his open ear. “Stop it! You're killing yourself!”
“I can't!” Adam gasped. “It won't turn off! Help me, Milward. Turn it off!” He could feel his life force draining, fear clutched his heart with an iron hand.
“Blast me for a Gnomic headed droob! I knew this was going to happen.” Milward concentrated, and held his staff between Adam and the ball of blazing light that had become the Shaper. A twitch of his head showed the force of will he exerted, as a barrier of blue radiance slammed down around Adam. The flows of power stopped and Adam felt strength return to his limbs.
As fast as the barrier appeared, it was gone, along with the light around the Shaper.
The Elf sat up slowly and felt for its legs, now whole. It looked at Adam in wonder and fear. “Why?” The word came out in a whispered hiss.
Adam looked at the Shaper. “You needed help.”
The vanquished Shaper nodded and then dropped its head. It seemed to be looking for something as it patted its body, searching. Abruptly, it clenched its eyes and threw back its head. “My power!” It wailed. “You took my power!”
It continued to cry, sobbing out its grief in inarticulate screams.
Adam stared at it, not believing or understanding what he was hearing, but knowing it was true. “I didn't mean to. You were dying, I wanted to help you.”
“You should have let me die!” The ex-Shaper spat at him, tears welled up in its eyes. “What good am I now, filthy human?!” The word came out as a curse. “You stole my power. What good am I now?” The Elf dissolved into grief. “What good am I now?”
Milward placed a gentle hand on Adam's shoulder. “Come on, Adam. We'd best leave while we can. Their awe of you will last long enough, I think, for us to be beyond their finding. But only if we leave now. Besides, my nose is reminding me why we wanted to avoid this spot in the first place.”
Adam allowed himself to be led away, his mind awhirl with thoughts and emotions, sick at heart at what had become of his desire to help the Elf.
He remembered little of the next few hours, until Milward finally stopped them to make camp for the night several miles away from the base of Cloudhook.<
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“What happened, lad? Do you remember what you were thinking when you tried to heal that Shaper?” Milward sipped from the cup of tisane he held as he tended the coals of the fire.
“Not all of it, no. I do remember trying to visualize what the Elf's legs looked like before ... I did what I did.”
“You did what you had to do. Remember that, Adam. There was nothing else for it.” Milward admonished him gently.
“I guess so. Anyway, I couldn't bring his legs into focus, and so I thought I just use what I was feeling, you know, my desire to heal it? And then I just let the power go.” Adam threw up both hands to either side of his face in emphasis.
“Hmm. I thought that was what happened.” Milward nodded, as he took another sip of tisane.
“You did? Then why did you ask me?” Adam pulled his robe tighter around himself. The night was becoming chill.
“I wanted to be sure, that's why. What you did, young man, was the most dangerous thing a Wizard could do; allow his emotions to rule his power. Many, too many, have died because they did the very same thing, and they did not have someone like me there to help rescue them from their own folly.
“You allowed the power flow to become so great that you had none in reserve to stop it. It takes power to start a shaping and it takes power to control it. You, my brave, thoughtful, heroic but oh, so foolish, young Wizard, lost that control.”
Adam looked up at Milward sheepishly. “Like the stones, huh.” He rubbed his cheek.
The old Wizard reared back his head and howled with laughter. “Yes. Like the stones.”
* * * *
Bilardi walked over to the alcove that led to his private balcony. He stood against the edge and looked down upon the city of Grisham. Even after all these long years, the sight still gave him pause. He loved its stark beauty, and breathed deeply of the wood fired smoke of its air.
His palace's location upon the central hill in Grisham, in addition to the height of his private tower, gave him the best view in the city. There was one blot upon his personal panorama, however. Nestled within a choice bit of Grisham's land, and directly in the Duke's line of sight, lay the never-to-be-sufficiently-damned residence and offices of the Ambassador of Ort.