The Bard of Sorcery

by Gerard Houarner

  Dusk was creeping into the valley. He was free of the Shosheya, as they were of him. He shivered and tried to arrange his tattered clothing so that he would be protected from the evening air. He moved on, scanning the hills for a refuge and wincing from the new series of injuries he had sustained. He was not surprised when the Jade Warrior appeared ahead of him, leading the kruushka carrying Tralane's few belongings.

  "You knew?" Tralane asked, as the Jade Warrior rode up to him.

  "Yes."

  Tralane fell to his knees and collapsed forward, letting his forehead lean against the ground. He was exhausted, and now his limbs shook, not with fear or cold, but with weakness.

  "Then why did you let me go in? If you knew I was carrying Wyden's Eye, and that it had passed this way before, that it was cursed in this place, then why didn't you tell me?" Tralane spoke to the ground, breathing its rich aromas. In some detached portion of his thoughts, he realized the season was changing. The earth was cold, and the chill bite in the air was as sharp as the Jade Warrior's reply.

  "You did not bother to ask, and I am not bound to warn you of the consequences of your actions. It was your choice to enter the village and to stay when you were not welcome."

  "Get away from me. You're trying to kill me. Leave me alone."

  "I cannot do that, nor am I seeking your death."

  Tralane did not stir. He was in the process of surrendering, both physically and psychically, to the weariness assailing him in the wake of his conflict. He wanted to rest, but the presence of the Jade Warrior troubled his entry into slumber. A hard, unyielding figure stood at the edge of his sleep, waiting for him to cross the border into the dream reality. There were shadows of demons seeking to pursue him, and the stirrings of another pit in which would be exposed horrors Tralane would be unable to escape. Tralane grunted and roused himself, looked up at the Jade Warrior, and tried several times to stand before he accomplished the task.

  "You led me to the village," Tralane said finally, in an accusatory tone.

  "And you stayed there," the Warrior replied flatly.

  Tralane swayed from side to side, then staggered to his kruushka. As the Warrior watched, the bard pulled himself up into the saddle, almost falling several times. Once mounted, Tralane unclenched his fist and saw the pouch and the Eye in his hand.

  "Is this what you're after?" Tralane implored, hoping to be relieved of the burden Wyden's Eye was turning out to be.

  The Warrior laughed and shook his head. "No, hardly that."

  "Where does it come from?"

  "From one who watches over you."

  "Who watches over me?" Tralane asked. His words were hollow croakings. He was too weak to express the passionate despair that moved him to speak. "What does he want? Tell me, what I must do to rid myself of this thing, of you, of everything. Tell me."

  "Let us go on, Tralane. You have your magic. Use it."

  The bard kicked the kruushka into a walk and, while laying his head against his mount's neck, made the motions he had sworn never to make again. The Eye responded willingly.

  He was glad to leave this world that had promised so much but had finally disappointed him. Or had he been the disappointment? His happiness was a spark that could not find fuel to ignite. The amulet, cold metal and jewel in his hand, and the Jade Warrior were still with him. He was being led, but for what purpose he was too weak at the moment to attempt to discover. His only comfort, as he rode through the night and the doorway between worlds with nothing but the Warrior discernible around him, was his own sense of desolation.

  Chapter 12

  There followed a week of silence. The season was indeed changing, and in the world the pair now traveled winter was settling into the air. Oram's furs warmed Tralane, but the nights were long and storms descended on them with frequent fierceness. Roads were hidden beneath the white expanse of snow covering the ground, and the hills carefully hid their human settlers so that solid shelter and a blazing fire were impossible to find. Tralane fell ill and sullenly kept his thoughts to himself. The Jade Warrior said nothing, content to follow wherever Tralane led.

  One evening Tralane had his sights set on a small, delicately built creature with brown and gold fur and an intricately woven pattern of horns emerging from its skull like a crown. He had never seen such a creature before. Had illness and hunger not ruled the hands holding the bow and arrow, he might have found it beautiful. As it was, his hands were not steady, and what he might have once spared through a sense of displaying his aesthetic appreciation, he now missed because of the frailty of his health.

  He threw his weapon to the ground and cursed.

  "What am I doing here? Why am I doomed to this petty existence?" He gave the Jade Warrior a venomous glance. "And you, you don't eat, you don't feel the cold, you don't care about anything. What good are you?"

  "Now you'll have to dismount," the Jade Warrior said laconically, watching the bard's meal bound towards the cover of trees, "pick up your bow, and mount again, wasting your strength on a childish display of frustration. You have done well, Tralane. At this rate, I shall be companion to a corpse."

  "Then why don't you help? Why don't you lead? Make a few decisions?"

  "That is not in my nature. I am a follower."

  "You follow better than most can attack."

  The Jade Warrior laughed, and his merriment echoed under the snow-capped trees which covered the hills around them, rolling back to douse Tralane in scorn.

  "You are becoming wiser," the Warrior replied, after his amusement had subsided.

  Tralane's stomach suddenly heaved. He coughed up bile, which he spat into the snow. He lost control over the focus of his vision, and the world around him doubled and blurred, as it had done from time to time in the past few days. His head throbbed, his body ached, and his thoughts were sluggish. Finally, after the spell of nausea passed, Tralane caught his breath with heaving breaths and posed the series of questions he had been designing in his mind to the Jade Warrior.

  "Where is the nearest town?" was his first query, which he asked while facing the Jade Warrior, but looking past the creature, as if the crystal being were not really so close by.

  "There," the Warrior answered, pointing.

  "How far?"

  "A few hours."

  "Are there dangers to me on the way?"

  "Yes."

  "What kind?"

  "The kind you would not be able to fend off in your condition."

  "And if we stay here the night, will there be danger?"

  "Yes."

  "The same as on the way to the town?"

  "Yes."

  Tralane was surprised by his own patient probing. The Jade Warrior was not an inspiration to trust or patience, and people with whom Tralane had experienced similar attitudes of insolence, arrogance, and condescension had never been used by him as sources of information on which his life depended. But necessity made Tralane compromise in a way which he would never have conceived possible.

  "And does this danger also exist in the town?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Will the danger soon pass there?"

  "That I cannot say. Too many factors are in the balance."

  "If I go to the town, will the danger avoid me?"

  "This is not a danger that can be so easily eluded," the Jade Warrior said wearily, tiring of the game.

  Tralane felt a tiny exultation of victory at the Warrior's reply, as if he had won an edge. But he still had questions to ask. He would not be accused of ignoring the wisdom and warnings that were waiting to be dredged up from the Warrior.

  "Are there other dangers in the town?"

  "Yes."

  "What are they?"

  "The kind that can cure you."

  Cure him of what? But he did not go any further with his inquiry, though he was beginning to enjoy, in a petty way, his contest with the Warrior. The time spent in brooding silence, thinking about his companion's logic, had been rewarded. However, time was als
o important, and the Jade Warrior was still answering in cryptic riddles. Tralane did not have the time to unravel them or to ask for clarification. With the vague promise of food, shelter and warmth, and an ambiguous cure for an undefined illness waiting for him after a mysteriously perilous journey, Tralane set out for the town. As evening turned to night, Tralane listened carefully for any sounds other than their mounts treading across the treacherous, snow-camouflaged ground.

  Lights from the town became visible as they crested a hill and gazed down into a valley. Tralane was unsteady in his saddle and eager to reach the haven, but straightened suddenly when a howl slashed the silence. He drew the black sword and prepared for an attack, glancing in every direction. The howl, long and high-pitched, came again, so near that the bard was afraid he would be set upon before he could strike to defend himself. Then an ice storm shattered the sky, instantly coating the ground with a crystalline shell. Darts of ice blinded Tralane as he searched the darkness, seeking the source of the howl. The hills did not reveal their secret.

  Tralane sheathed his sword and urged the kruushka down the pass into the valley. The cry, savage and desperate, was that of a predator. The storm would stave off the animal's attack long enough for Tralane to reach the town. Yet as he rode, Tralane listened to the reverberations of the howl in his memory and heard the anguish of a beast unjustly wounded. He glanced back at the Jade Warrior, whose rigid visage expressed only an uncommon degree of disdain for elements and emotions, and decided the echoes he heard were not so laden with meaning as he had originally conceived.

  The storm was still rising in pitch when the pair reached the main street. The town's outer buildings were abandoned, their walls .broken and breached by the season's snow. Carts had been stripped of their wheels and lined up to form a ramshackle wall between the gaps in the houses, but they were almost buried in snow and had been shifted by the wind to open many holes in the defensive perimeter. The town had the bedraggled appearance of being under siege by more than a harsh season and losing the battle of attrition to its enemies. Tralane gave the Jade Warrior an uneasy look.

  "Is the danger you spoke of near?"

  "No, we've already passed it."

  Somewhat reassured, Tralane stopped in front of a two-story building on whose double doors were painted two large petaled flowers in red, yellow and green. The emblems were meticulously clear of accumulated ice and snow. The colors glistened in the dim light leaking from windows across the street. Tralane dismounted, gave the reins of his kruushka to a startled livery girl who came running from the stable next to the building, and ploughed through a snow bank to reach the doors. He pushed one of them open with his shoulder and stepped inside.

  Tralane had forgotten his appearance. The white furs, loosely knit into a jacket, made him appear bulkier than he really was. His leggings were darkened by moisture and mud, contrasting sharply with the lighter top. His cap and the hair which stuck out from it was matted, like the rest of his clothing, and covered with clumps of ice which began to melt from the heat of the hearth fires situated around the room. His eyes were red from exhaustion and fever, and his face and hands were bloated by exposure and illness. Scars lacerated his exposed skin, and the sword which hung ominously at his side proved that he had survived wounds when his enemies had not.

  The tavern was almost empty, the townspeople obviously preferring the company of their own families on such a night. The few who were present were divided into two groups, one sitting around a table against the far right wall and the other standing at the counter against the back wall. They stared at him with wide, shocked eyes.

  The tables were round, and the unused stools were placed upside down on the tops. Through the jungle of wooden legs, Tralane returned the stare of the people with a silent plea.

  Their eyes shifted as the Jade Warrior arrived behind him. The emerald, crystal-cut body was coated with sheets of ice which slid across the Warrior's skin like interlocking plates of armor whenever he moved. A thin ruby crescent between his lips indicated a slight smile. Upon seeing him, the men in the tavern rose, some backing off, while others fumbled for swords, daggers, and staffs. The man behind the counter—short and balding but robust nonetheless—pulled out a bludgeon and leaped over the countertop with efficient agility.

  Tralane looked frantically from face to face, seeking a way to head off the impending brawl. He said nothing; he was at a loss to speak about anything other than warmth and rest. In turn, the men of the inn stood their ground, once they were unified in a common front against the strange intruders. The tension from the deadlock mounted as the silence continued, until Tralane felt as if he would collapse under its weight.

  Then a woman entered through a door behind the counter. She stopped short, holding a small barrel in her arms. Her black eyes energetically surveyed the room. Her chestnut hair fell in loose curls over her forehead and ears, accentuating her high cheekbones. The curls blended with the rich brown and tan work frock she wore. She had the demeanor of a bright and curious child.

  After her appraisal was completed, she calmly placed the barrel under the counter and, distractedly brushing herself off, wandered up to Tralane and the Jade Warrior. While still a few arm lengths away, she looked up suddenly and, as if taking notice of them for the first time, smiled heartily.

  "Well, now, you've picked a fine night for traveling. What brings you two here at this time of night, in the middle of a storm?" She was cheerful, and her inquiry was made disarming by a coquettish turn of her head and a fist propped against her hip.

  "Sleep?" Tralane croaked uncertainly, holding out his hands hesitantly, palms up.

  The woman nodded, then eyed the Jade Warrior. "And your friend?"

  The Warrior retreated to the near left-hand corner of the room, diagonally across from the group seated around the table. He took down a chair and seated himself. He remained immobile, fixing his gaze on the emptiness in the middle of the room.

  "Cumulain!" exclaimed the balding bludgeon-carrier, holding out his free hand as if to stop her.

  "Don't worry, Jax. The green one's beginning to look like a statue, and a statue's harmless enough. This one," she said, cocking her head at Tralane, "is certainly in no condition to be any trouble. He needs help, and the Wilderness Flower has few enough visitors to start turning away half-dead men now."

  "No, they're sorcerous," Jax protested. "The Beast will follow them in. He'll try to take them."

  "Send them back out," another muttered, while a third chimed in, "What are strangers doing here in this season? It's a trick or an evil omen!"

  The woman's face reddened and the muscles of her neck constricted.

  "They are my charges," she shouted, "and the Wilderness Flower is my tavern. You are welcome to the snow and the Beast outside if you don't like the way I run things."

  Again, there was a tense silence in which the men and the woman glared angrily at one another. The quiet was broken when Tralane, too fatigued to stand and wait for the outcome of their fight, collapsed onto the floor. A couple of men instinctively took a step forward before they held up their weapons in defense against their compassion and rejoined the group in surprised confusion.

  Cumulain bent over Tralane and loosened his clothes.

  "Brother, help me bring him upstairs," she said over her shoulder.

  Jax hesitated, gripping his bludgeon until his knuckles were pale. She twisted around and cried out, "He's not the Beast, nor is the green thing our enemy. Are you just going to watch him die?"

  Jax shook his head vehemently and opened his mouth to say something. He changed his mind abruptly, threw the bludgeon aside, and reluctantly joined his sister. The inn's customers started at the sharp crash of the weapon's landing.

  "He may be a hero, or a god of some kind," Jax grunted as he helped Cumulain lift Tralane, who remained passive. "He has enough wounds to be taken for a battler, at any rate. Whatever his birth and station, he'll pay for his care and lodgings by going out to hunt th
e Beast."

  "If he's a god," an onlooker snorted as Tralane's limp body was carried by him, "they're making them poorer and frailer than they used to."

  "Maybe," Jax replied in a whisper, casting a worried eye at the Jade Warrior, "but his friend seems a bit sturdier. I don't think we could get rid of him so easily."

  "And he might stand a better chance against the Beast, eh?" Cumulain said with bitter resignation. "There's always the Beast to think of."

  "Yes, there is always that. There is nothing else for us but the Beast."

  The words drifted down to the level of Tralane's consciousness, barely audible, with meanings difficult to grasp. He heard the Beast named over and over again, spoken by stoic voices weary with the endurance of suffering and taut with the contained rage of helplessness before an overwhelming power. Something monstrous, something terrible and feared, lurked in the hills surrounding the town. Had the howls signaling the sudden ice storm been its cry?

  He was carried through a dark hall and up a flight of stairs. A green haze began to settle over Tralane's perception of the world, and rivers of molten metal cut through the thickening fog like lava running through a forest. A figure coalesced, shimmering emerald in a bloody mist, and Tralane sank into the fitful other-world of his sleep where his own beast lay waiting. A scream was on his lips.

  Chapter 13

  They were facing one another on a desert plain, sand trails whipping across their feet and calves, wrapping themselves around flesh and cold rock crystal. Tralane watched himself, a black sword sheathed in a bright aura of silver light in his hand, standing before the Jade Warrior. Tralane could not tell if he had initiated the confrontation, or if the Jade Warrior had finally decided to end his tactics of harassment and commit himself to a direct assault on the bard.