Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild

by Brian S. Pratt

  After jumping for a third time at the loud cry of a nearby bird, James came to the conclusion that he was going to need more than a walking stick if the wolves should return. Judging by his slow rate of progress through the forest, it was unlikely that he would break free before night came again, and he might not remain unmolested.

  He thought about his walking stick, and how it was in many ways like a spear, he got an idea. Pausing for a moment, he opened the book on magic and made sure he understood what he must do. First, he formed a visualization of his desired outcome, and then put the words together. He leaned his walking stick against the side of a tree, took three steps back and said:

  As straight and true as a spear can be,

  Filled with the strength of an old oak tree.

  Make it sharp, to penetrate steel,

  And perfectly balanced for user to feel.

  With the last word came the surge of power from deep within. He watched as the walking stick slowly changed, and became the mirror image of his visualization. Its surface smoothed, the end on the ground was rounded off while the other end came to a very fine point. When the spell ran its course, where the walking stick had been, now stood a dark brown spear.

  James waited a moment to ensure nothing else might happen, such as the spear exploding or something equally unpleasant. When nothing did, he stepped forward and tested the sharpened tip with his finger. He jerked his hand back as a drop of blood welled out. Sharp, I hardly even gave it any pressure. Feeling somewhat better for having a weapon, he took the spear and once again set off toward the west.

  What about armor, magical shields, spells of protection? As handy as having those would be, James simply didn’t wish to push his luck as far as magic went. I’m new at this. Keep it “Simple Stupid.” Besides, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to create something like that. He didn’t know enough about how to make a suit of armor, so how could he create one with magic?

  As a Dungeon Master, he had forever stymied his players when they had attempted to use wish rings. When they wished for a million gold pieces, they would receive a million gold pieces fused together, usually in a very remote locale. If they wished for a suit of +100 plate armor, they would receive it. But when the armor was two feet thick and weighed a ton, it didn’t do much good.

  No, he figured to come at this magic business slowly, gradually growing in proficiency over time. He only hoped this world would allow him such a luxury.

  Late in the morning, he came upon a small clearing. He paused at the edge and spied several rabbits. His stomach had been grumbling for the past hour. Those berries hadn’t done much to satiate his hunger. As he gazed upon the rabbits, a memory of when his father had once caught and cooked a rabbit during one of their camping trips made it even worse.

  Knowing that his skill rating with a spear was probably somewhere near zero, he came up with a spell to help his aim. As he held his spear and prepared to throw, he quietly said:

  Spear of mine please strike true,

  Strike the rabbit and go right through.

  As the last syllable was spoken, he took aim at the nearest rabbit, drew back his arm and threw. When the spear left his hand, he again felt the surge of power. The spear flew unerringly through the air to impale the rabbit. True to the words of the spell, the tip of the spear passed completely through the rabbit and embedded itself deep in the ground. The attack caused rabbits to scatter in all directions. In no time, the clearing was deserted save for the lone, dead rabbit.

  Yeah, Baby!

  Excited, James ran to the rabbit, and watched as it kicked in its death throes. It took some doing to pull his spear from the ground. Next time, he may have to alter his wording to have the spear only kill the rabbit, not pass all the way through. But what’s the difference, he had done it!

  Once the spear came free, he turned his attention to the rabbit. Gazing at it, he suddenly realized he hadn’t a clue what to do now. His only experience with this sort of thing was during the one camping trip in which his dad had caught and skinned one. Didn’t dad use his knife to remove the skin? James wished he had spent more time watching and less time skipping rocks on the water.

  The only thing he had that could be considered sharp was the spear which would be of little use in skinning a rabbit. Looking around the clearing, he spied a hand-sized stone. Striking it against a larger one, the smaller stone split in two. One half had a semi-sharp edge; it should work.

  Very carefully he used the rock to slice off the head and feet. Feeling slightly nauseated, James took the rock and slowly peeled off the skin. The rock was definitely not the best tool for the job but he eventually had a rabbit ready for the spit.

  His blood soaked hands reminded him of Seth, and a shudder ran through him, his gorge rising. Steady boy, don’t let the past rattle you. You did the best you could for him.

  Placing the carcass on a layer of leaves, James used dirt to rid his hands of much of the blood before gathering kindling. After clearing a site for the fire, he stacked the wood together then placed bits of dried moss beneath.

  Moss I placed under the wood

  Ignite so I can cook my food.

  Hokey though his wording was, they proved effective. The moss began to smoke, then burst into flame. He kneeled and gently blew on the flickering flame, coaxing it higher until the kindling caught. Satisfied that the fire would continue on its own, he gathered several sticks to create a makeshift spit.

  Once it was set and the fat from the rabbit began dripping into the fire, he relaxed against a tree trunk. Every once in a while, the far off cry of a wolf echoed through the trees. His fear of being discovered spiked each time. He definitely did not wish to spend another night in the trees, but what choice did he have?

  The wolves were remarkably like the ones he would find in a forest back home. In fact, all the animals he had seen so far had been very Earth-like. If it wasn’t for the little creature and the fact that he could do magic, he might very well have been back home on a campout.

  He and his dad had gone camping several times. There were some of his best memories of his parents. They would go up around Yosemite and backpack, do the nature thing. His dad would catch fish and they would have a fish fry. When they returned home they would tell his mom about all the fish they had caught, both real and imagined. She would then say how proud she was of her little man.

  What would dad say if he could see me now? I’m starting a bit rough but I have food and a weapon, as well as my health; I’m managing.

  “You’re doing fine, Son,” his dad would say.

  “I wish you were here with me, Dad. I don’t remember all that you tried to teach me. I sure miss you.”

  “You’re alive, James, be happy. You’re in a bad situation but you’re making the best of it. I taught you self-reliance and I’m mighty proud of you.” His father stood there with a smile, the smile he always wore when James did something he especially liked.

  With a tear in his eye James walked over to his father and gave him a hug. His father returned the hug warmly.

  Crash!

  Startled out of his daydream, James found the spit that once held his lunch burning in the fire, while his dinner ran away in the mouth of what looked like a small dog. Stupid, daydreaming fool! Lurching to his feet, he raced after. Running under bushes and around trees, the dog quickly out-paced him and was gone, along with his lunch.

  “Damn!”

  Returning to his fire, James took his spear and looked around the clearing for more rabbits or an acceptable substitute. Nothing! His yell and chasing the dog had scared everything away. No use sitting around here! Using his foot, he put out the fire, covering it with dirt. Grabbing his backpack, he stalked off with self-deprecating recriminations running through his mind, and a fierce growl in his belly.

  No more than half an hour went by before he found, killed and began roasting another small animal. Not sure exactly what it was, it looked like a squirrel but the size of a small cat. This ti
me he kept his wits about him and remained alert for any scavengers who might happen by.

  The aroma of roasting meat made his stomach cramp. Impatient for the meat to be done, he removed it from the fire when it had cooked “enough.” Taking the meat to a nearby tree, he sat with his back against the trunk and proceeded to eat.

  As he bit into the roasted meat, the juices ran down his chin. Never has anything tasted so good. Of course, I’ve never been this hungry before in my life. Wonder what grandma would do with this if she was here? Thinking of his grandmother’s cooking brought back the feeling of homesickness.

  It seemed like he had just started when he stripped the last of the meat from the bone. He felt much better once he had something more substantial than berries in his stomach. A nearby stream provided the opportunity to cleanse his hands and face, as well as a much needed drink. He also washed the blood off his “skinning” stone and placed it in his backpack. More than likely, he would need it again.

  Refreshed, he grabbed his backpack and spear and set out once more in search of Trendle. If it wasn’t for the possibility of meeting the same fate as Seth, he would be enjoying himself.

  The nearby stream flowed in the general direction so he decided to follow. There was less of a chance of being turned around if he used it as a guide. Also, it might eventually lead to civilization. Streams lead to rivers, rivers to lakes and ponds. And where there was water, there were usually people.

  Berry bushes lined the streambed and each held numerous berries. After eating a dozen or so he gathered a number of the ripest ones and wrapped them in a leaf before placing them in his backpack.

  The rest of the afternoon proceeded in a manner similar to the morning; forging through inhospitable undergrowth bent on barring his way at all cost, relieved only by all too infrequent clearings. He did encounter one meadow that was rather extensive boasting two fair sized pools. Both were crystal clear, and in the afternoon sun, he could clearly see their bounty of dark-green fish with twin red stripes near the tail.

  An hour before nightfall, the land began a more downward slope that ended at an abrupt drop. The stream flowed over the edge to cascade down the uneven surface in the guise of a small waterfall to form a small pond thirty feet below. An area to the right of the water would make an ideal campsite. With the wall of the drop at its back and flanked by the pond on one side and a large fallen tree on the other, it would provide a modicum of shelter through the night.

  He first tossed his spear to the clearing below, then worked his way down the side of the drop. Once at the bottom, he rested his pack against the backdrop and gathered wood for the fire. After collecting a sufficient quantity, he took his spear and set out in search of game. It wasn’t long before another rabbit met its end. Back at camp, he used his skinning stone and prepped it for the fire.

  Using the same spell as before, he soon had the fire burning merrily and placed the rabbit upon the spit. Sitting there with the waterfall sprinkling into the pond twenty feet away, he listened to the fat pop and crackle as drips fell into the fire. He felt good. Another day without mishap. He was getting the hang of this world, the magic hadn’t been too difficult, at least not the simple spells he had attempted.

  Turning the rabbit occasionally for an even cook, he relaxed and enjoyed the peaceful interlude. The aroma from the meat was wonderful. He got up and walked over to the pond. It was a clear, sparkling blue. Kneeling at the edge, he took a good long drink. The water was so pure and crisp that he doubted there could be anything like it back home.

  With the sun descending below the treetops, night was fast approaching. Returning to the spit, he checked the rabbit and saw that it was not quite ready. He grabbed his backpack and removed the berries gathered earlier. He unwrapped them and popped three in his mouth; he then set the others aside to have with the rabbit.

  By the time the rabbit was fully cooked and the outer skin a dark brown, shadows fully enveloped the campsite. He took the rabbit off the spit and settled down to eat with a gusto only starvation could provide.

  Once satiated, James discarded the carcass far from the camp to prevent it from drawing predators. On the way back, he gathered more wood, having no wish to freeze through another night. With the sun down, a chill crept into the air. Keeping a fire going all night would bring him comfort and hopefully safety from curious animals.

  Stoking the fire, he settled down to sleep. Lying on his back and wishing for a blanket, he stared at the night sky and watched as it deepened and the stars came out. Events of the past two days played through his mind. It would be hard to credit the truth of it all if he hadn’t lived through it. What happened to Seth now seemed like a bad dream, one from which there would be no awakening.

  Magic was real. He wondered how much he dared attempt. In the role-playing world, magic was fraught with dangers, especially for those unschooled in its use. The book on magic gave very little actual instruction in how to work it; mainly just theory and suggestions.

  He grinned about the little ditties he threw together for his spells. How simple and unimaginative they were. Not at all like the flowing, poetry variety of spells found in his books. But they had worked, hadn’t they? And wasn’t that all that really matters? The book hadn’t said anything about increasing the effectiveness of a spell by upgrading the wording used.

  A wooden spoon is just as effective when eating soup as a silver one.

  Not sure exactly where he had heard that little piece of home-spun advice, but it certainly fit the situation.

  Sleeping near the fire provided him with a sense of security he lacked the night before. The soft sounds of the waterfall commingled with the fire’s crackle and pop eventually lulled him to sleep.

  He woke shivering several times during the night and put more wood on the fire to keep warm. The coming of dawn found him frozen and his fire dead. Chilled to the bone, teeth chattering and breath misting in the morning air, he stirred the coals and discovered a few embers still aglow. The addition of small twigs and moss sparked a flame. After adding several larger pieces, James soon basked in the fire’s warmth.

  Clouds rolled in during the night. It looked like rain might be in the offing. James was less than happy since rain would only add to the discomfort. Sleeping on the cold, hard ground left him with a sore body and a crick in his neck. The few remaining berries made an inadequate breakfast. What he wouldn’t give right now for his bed back home and his grandmother’s pancakes and bacon. Sighing, he popped the last berry in his mouth and stood. With a final glance to the cloud-filled sky above, a sigh, he then set about continuing his quest for Trendle. His backpack over his shoulder; he made due with the spear as a walking stick. He left the pond and waterfall behind to follow the stream as it made its way through the trees.

  James encountered more of the berry bushes throughout the morning. It was fortunate that they grew in such abundance. As the day progressed, breaks in the forest canopy allowed glimpses of the gathering clouds. Near mid-day, thunder rumbled off in the distance. Shortly afterward, another stream joined the one he followed, increasing its width and depth.

  When the grumbling of his stomach told him it was lunchtime, he took a break at a small clearing at water’s edge. After making a fire, he waded into the stream with his spear, this time looking for a fish to fry. Using a variation on his hunting spell, James soon had a large fish impaled upon the end of his spear. Pleased, he returned to camp and in no time had it roasting over the fire.

  The forest continuously grew darker and darker as the thunder crashed ever closer. Unless I want to walk in a downpour I better find shelter. When the fish was ready James ate it quickly, though this time he saved half for later. He wrapped what was left in a leaf before putting it in his backpack. After extinguishing the fire, he set a quick pace downstream looking for shelter to wait out the storm.

  He came to an area where the trees thinned out somewhat. He spied a ridgeline off to the south, a little over a hundred yards away. There loo
ked to be an opening at the base of the ridge that might be a cave.

  As he moved toward the promise of shelter, a drop of rain landed upon the tip of his nose; more soon followed. Hurrying quickly, he sped his way through the trees, hoping to beat the rain. Just as he entered the clearing before the cave, there was a brilliant flash of lightning followed instantly by a thunderous crack and the heavens were unleashed. Torrential rain pelted him the last few feet before he gained the shelter of the cave. Relieved at not being at the mercy of the elements, he turned about and glanced to the rain coming down in what his grandma always called a “gully washer.”

  The cave was dark but the intermittent flashes of lightning revealed how it extended deeper into the hillside. Relief turned to wariness as his imagination filled the shadows of the cave’s farthest recesses with carnivorous beasts. He gripped his spear and moved closer to the mouth of the cave.

  It’s just your imagination working overtime, James ol’ boy. What you need is a fire to dispel the shadows and put your mind at ease.

  The thought of sitting all night in the dark was not something he wanted to contemplate. A glance to the torrential downpour that still hammered the earth made it clear that any firewood would be soaked and unusable.

  Maybe a spell to make a glowing orb?

  Working out the spell didn’t take very long as spell formulation was becoming easier. Concentrating to maintain the visualization, he said: