by Pedro Urvi
What’s this? You too?
Ona gave a small groan.
He might not be able to sleep as comfortably as he had hoped to. The two cuddled on either side of him, and they slept together. Lasgol could not entirely enjoy the bed, but feeling the warmth of his amazing companions, he felt luckier than a king.
At dawn the three of them came downstairs, fully recovered after an excellent night’s rest. Martha was already waiting with a breakfast worthy of a visiting foreign ruler: not only for him, but for Ona and Camu too.
“Martha, it’s too much …”
“Not at all. It’s a heartening breakfast so that you can go on with your mission with your energies restored.”
Lasgol smiled. “It’s a breakfast for a whole regiment,” he said, seeing that the whole kitchen table was full of food.
Ona and Camu looked at Lasgol with pleading eyes.
You want to enjoy all this food, don’t you?
Food good. Delicious, Camu transmitted. With the message came a feeling of hunger and a desire for a banquet.
Ona stared at the food, wide-eyed, licking her chops.
All right then. Enjoy the food, but don’t gorge yourselves, because we’ve got a long journey ahead of us today.
Only a mouthful or two, Camu assured him. Lasgol did not believe him.
“Very well, my little fiends want to taste all this, so we’ll have a hearty breakfast.”
“That’s the way I like it,” said Marta with a smile.
The three ate as if they were not going to eat again for a whole season. Not because they were particularly hungry, but because everything was delicious. The more they ate, the more they wanted to go on eating. The moment came when Lasgol could not manage anything else. He felt at bursting-point. Camu was lying on the floor, belly up, with his blue tongue lolling out of his mouth and his stomach twice its usual size. Ona was beside him, finishing a roast chicken she could barely cope with.
“I think we’ve had more than enough,” he commented to his housekeeper.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”
Lasgol patted his swollen belly. “Look at Camu, he’s about to burst. And I feel the same.”
Martha smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“We all loved it,” Lasgol pointed at Ona and Camu, who by now were snoozing under the table.
“I can see that.”
“Let’s see how I can manage to make them move now.”
“Give them a moment to digest, and then you can leave. It’s too early in any case. The sun’s only just risen.”
Lasgol shrugged. “I suppose I have no choice.”
After a while he and Martha strolled around the estate while she explained how the orchard was faring, then about the minor repairs the outside walls of the house needed and some support that was needed for part of the perimeter wall. Lasgol gave his opinion, and Martha assured him that she would deal with it all and have it ready for his lordship’s next visit. It sounded very strange to hear her refer to him as his lordship. He did not see himself as that, even though he might be the rightful lord of the estate. He thought of himself as just another Ranger.
He said goodbye to Martha with a warm hug.
“Take good care of yourself, Lasgol.”
“You do that too, Martha.”
“Don’t worry about the estate. I’ll take charge of everything.”
“I haven’t the slightest doubt, it’s in the best possible hands.”
She smiled, grateful for the acknowledgment.
Lasgol went to fetch Trotter, who was delighted by his stable. He had to convey the bad news to him that they had to set off again. The faithful pony made no protest, and Lasgol loaded his gear and food supplies on to his back. Ona, Camu and Martha joined him at the front door.
“A goodbye hug for a crippled old soldier?” came a voice from beyond the gate. Ulf had come to see him off and was waiting outside.
“Getting up early must have been hard for him,” Martha told Lasgol with a wink. “He never gets up before mid-morning, and if he’s taken plenty of painkiller the night before, not till noon.”
Lasgol chuckled. “I can picture it perfectly. Which makes it all the more creditable that he’s here so early today.”
“He’s really fond of you.”
“And so am I of him.”
Martha nodded and smiled. “Take care and come back soon.”
Lasgol gave her a final hug and went to say goodbye to Ulf.
“Goodbye, Ona. Goodbye, Camu,” Martha said.
Both creatures turned to look at her.
Martha good.
She is, very good indeed, Lasgol assured him.
“Show them what a true Norghanian of the West is worth!” Ulf said as he hugged him. At the same time, he gave him three enormous slaps on the back.
“I’ll do that, don’t you worry.”
“I won’t. And look after the little fiends, I like them,” he said with a wave at Camu and Ona.
“Even Camu?” Lasgol asked in surprise.
“Well, as long as he doesn’t do any of that weird magic of his, sure.”
I no weird magic, Camu protested.
“I’ll miss you, Ulf.”
“And I’ll miss you too, lad. Be careful.”
“I will be.”
“I’ll look forward to your return. We’ll see what new adventures you have to tell me when you come back.”
“Will you be waiting in the inn?” Lasgol asked sarcastically.
“Of course, I’ll be in the inn! Where else would I be?” Ulf thundered.
Lasgol set off, unable to wipe a broad smile from his face and his heart.
Chapter 9
The journey from Skad to the capital, Norghania, would be an uncomplicated one. At least that was what Lasgol was expecting, since it was a safe and well-known road now that the war was over. No incidents were to be expected. Trotter went at his usual pace, calm and confident. Lasgol turned his head to see what Ona and Camu were up to and saw them playing a few paces behind, on the edge of the road. They were passing through a sparsely-inhabited area, so he let Camu show himself and enjoy the journey.
When he reconsidered things, he changed his mind. With his usual luck, it was quite possible that something would happen to him. This was always a possibility when he, Lasgol Eklund, was on the move. Suddenly he felt rather vulnerable, and immediately thought of Astrid. How he missed her, how he wished she could be there with him! Unfortunately, it seemed that the Ice Gods had granted them paths which crossed, but never coincided. He heaved a deep sigh. What he would have given to have her at his side, to hold her hand, to share the road, to caress her, to kiss her and love her! His heart wept for the absence of his beloved. There were days when a dark cloud hovered above his head and followed him wherever he went. Luckily his two crazy companions gave him so much to do, and so much joy, that they drove the dark cloud away and the sun shone once again.
Don’t stray too far away, he told them. And be very careful.
Ona moaned.
Not far, Camu assured him.
Sure, but keep your eyes open. You never know what danger we might come across on the road.
No danger.
You can’t be sure of that, so don’t be overconfident.
Ona chirped inquisitively.
Not that anything’s going to happen, Ona, I just don’t want you to be too confident. You always need to be alert.
Not play? Camu asked with a feeling of great disappointment.
Lasgol felt bad. He could not stop them playing a little. After all, they were both very young. Once they grew up, they would grow out of the urge to play all the time. He had to let them enjoy their youth for as long as it lasted, even if times were difficult.
All right, you can play. But stay on the alert.
Always alert.
That’s the way I like it, Lasgol transmitted to Camu, who as usual heeded him just as much as he needed to, which was t
o say hardly at all.
Lasgol went back to his thoughts about Astrid, wondering when he would see her again. It was complicated enough to coincide with any of his Snow Panther friends, but even more so with Astrid and Viggo. The Specialty they had chosen meant that they moved secretly and never communicated their position to anybody. He cursed the day when Astrid had decided to become an Assassin of Nature. Now their paths barely crossed, and when they did it was only for a moment and often in highly dangerous situations, as at the Olafstone castle during the battle for Estocos. So, although he knew it was useless, he complained to the gods about his bad luck. Not only did he always find himself in the middle of the most terrible entanglements, but the one thing his heart desired, Astrid, was also denied to him.
“What miserable luck!” he grumbled as he stared up at the sky.
He resigned himself. Complaining was pointless, and in any case, it was not his style. He would keep going and find a way to be with Astrid again. It might not be right away, but he was confident that between the two of them, they would find a way of being together and going on with their love in spite of adverse circumstances. He longed to see her soon, and her memory brightened his spirit. Yes, they would come through.
He led Trotter along a byway around the city of Uriston. This was an important metropolis and he preferred to avoid it, even though the main road went through it. It was better to go unnoticed. They avoided meeting people, but followed paths that did not take them too far off the route. Little by little he was getting to know the regions of Norghana better, and often he did not need a map to find his direction, even though he carried a couple of very complete ones – made by Rangers – which were very useful since they marked paths which many people did not even know existed.
They stopped for a short break beside a river. Trotter would be grateful, and they could all have something to eat and relax a little. It was good to shake off the dust of the road every once in a while and get one’s energy back. He took care of Trotter, then fed Camu and Ona from the supplies he carried and finally had something to eat himself, sitting on a fallen tree by the water. By the time he had finished eating, Camu and Ona had gone off to play, or else get involved in some mischief.
Where are you?
Pond, he received from Camu.
Where’s that?
East.
Lasgol followed the river to the east, and in due course found a small pond where the two friends were playing.
What on earth are you two doing?
Hunting ducks, was the reply.
What was worse, they were not lying. Lasgol saw the two of them chasing a flock of ducks in the pond, who were startled into flight. The two friends followed them through the clearing.
Lasgol shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. He did not even try to tell them off. Better if they learnt for themselves. He crouched, and stared at the undulations on the surface of the water as they slowly receded, until they vanished to leave only a flat, calm surface. He waited until the water was completely still and saw his own reflection. He wondered whether he really looked like his mother, as Martha had told him. He could not decide whether the resemblance was more to his mother or to his father.
Thinking about his parents brought bittersweet feelings. He missed them so much. He remembered that he had one way of seeing them, of sharing their past experiences, and reached under his tunic for his mother’s pendant, the Marker of Experiences. He had not used it for some time, and he felt an urge to do so now. He would try to produce a vision. He crossed his fingers for a moment, then put his finger in his eye to produce a tear, which he let fall on the jewel.
A blue flash coming from the pendant bathed him, which was a very good sign. His gaze turned to his two friends, and he saw them disappear behind some trees in pursuit of the ducks. He was almost grateful, knowing that neither of them were very fond of the magic of his mother’s pendant. Not that there was anything bad about it, they simply did not trust it: Camu because he instinctively tried to deny all magic and Ona because as a cat, her instincts warned her that something strange was going on.
There came a second flash, and Lasgol’s stomach lurched. There was going to be a vision, a memory, and he was delighted. He would discover a new episode of his parents’ lives and wondered what it would show him, what he would learn, how important it would be.
He shivered. For some reason, he had the feeling that these visions were not random memories, but happened for a specific reason. At first, he had been sure the jewel was nothing but a bank of past memories of his parent’s lives. But he was beginning to see that there might be a connection between what happened to him in the present and the visions he invoked from the past. He kept thinking that the visions shown to him were not simply plucked at random from a well of memories stored in the jewel. It was an idea he had been turning over in his mind for some time. Perhaps that was why he used the pendant so little, because if the connection was really there, the context became a great deal more complicated. It would certainly set events in motion which would lead him into dangerous and treacherous situations, something he did not want at all.
He would have given his half-year’s pay to be able to talk about the subject with Egil and look into it more deeply. Unfortunately, his great friend was at the Camp, looking after Dolbarar and taking charge of the thousand and one things the leader could not handle as a result of his illness. He hoped they were both well. He was not so worried about Egil, since he was safe as long as he stayed in the Camp, but Dolbarar was a different matter.
He gazed at the surface of the lake and sighed deeply. He would have to fend for himself. He already knew that he could not force the Marker of Experiences to obey his wishes, which was frustrating. He could not understand why, since his mother had given it to him intending him to use it. The fact that the pendant did not obey him must be due to some limitation on the magic that it had been imbued with, or else the spells, some powerful mage or sorcerer had cast on the jewel. Perhaps they had been his own mother’s. If so, it was even more painful that he, her son, a possessor of the Gift like hers, was unable to use the jewel. He had no clue as to why it was resistant to him, but he was sure it was not his mother’s wish.
There came the third flash, which would soon bring the beginning of the vision. He prepared himself to receive it, and try to decipher its meaning. He focused on the image, which was beginning to appear before him, above the waters of the quiet pond. To begin with it was blurred and unfocused, which did not surprise him as it always took a while to clear. It was as if the jewel were focusing what it was going to show him, since it could not do so directly in his mind. The first person he made out was his mother, which delighted him. He knew it was just one of her memories, but it was as though he was participating in her past, in her life, and for him this had an enormous significance after having lost her so tragically.
Mayra, dressed as Darthor, was inside a cave. He could not guess as to where that was. She walked to the center of a great cavern with bluish walls, which looked like the inside of an enormous bowl. She looked up, and saw a starry sky and a beautiful aurora borealis. There was no doubt about it: she was in the Frozen Continent. She was not alone. In the center of the cavern were a dozen Arcanes of the Glaciers around the flame of a bluish fire that went up to the sky as if it were a geyser, except that instead of a plume of water, what rose up, was a pure blue flame. Lasgol wondered whether there could be a volcano under the surface, and whether what he was seeing were the effect of a gas rising in flames. It was spectacular.
“Welcome, Darthor,” an elderly Arcane greeted her. Lasgol recognized him at once as Azur, the Shaman of the Ice, Chief of the Arcanes of the Glaciers.
Mayra bowed respectfully and came forward to stand beside him. “Thank you for inviting me to such an important meeting.”
“Your presence here this evening is necessary.”
“And welcome,” added another Arcane. Lasgol recognized him too: it was Asra
el.
“Thank you,” Mayra said. “It’s an honor.” She bowed to Asrael, who went on to greet the other Arcanes around the great blue flame.
“This Council of Shamans around the Eternal Flame,” the leader began, “has been convoked in order to make a decision of the greatest importance for the future of our people, that of all the peoples of this continent and of the Frozen Continent itself.”
The other leaders struck the ice floor with their strange staves. “Around the Eternal Flame the Arcanes of the Glaciers decide,” they said as one, as if intoning a song.
“The Chief Shamans are gathered here today to decide on whether to support Darthor’s cause. We, the Arcanes of the Ice, do not represent all the peoples of the Frozen Continent, but our decision will carry a significant weight.”
“What the Arcanes of the Glaciers decide will be decisive in persuading the Wild Ones of the Ice and the Tundra Dwellers to join my cause,” Mayra added firmly, underlining the importance of their decision.
“We do not speak for them,” Asrael said. “We will have to speak with them to gain their support in the event that we decide to go to war this evening.”
“I’ve met with them, with their leaders,” Mayra assured him. “There will be no support if the Arcanes do not join the cause. They need the power of the magic of the Arcanes to counter the power of the Norghanian Magi.”
“Our decision carries a great deal of weight,” Azur went on, “which is why it must be made calmly and carefully.”
The rest of the Shamans struck the floor with their staves. “The Arcanes of the Glaciers decide around the Eternal Flame,” they intoned again.
Suddenly a figure came in wearily, bent and leaning on a staff that appeared to be made of ice. He approached the others, then without a word went to stand in what appeared to his place around the flame. Lasgol had seen him before, but could not place him. He was very old, even more so than the other Arcanes, which among them meant several hundred years. His face was deeply lined, and he seemed to be half-asleep. His eyes were small and grey and looked at no-one, as if the remainder of his people were of no interest to him – more than that, as if nothing really interested him.