The Journeyman for Zdrell

by David K Bennett

  As Turek spoke, Eril realized the gravity of his omission. He knew he’d made a significant mistake, but it still rankled. After all, he killed the charzen, saved the army, and got the enemy to retreat. He did all that, shouldn’t that be the important thing?

  “The Marshall wanted you woken up right after Carge appeared, but since we’d gotten the important parts of the story from him, I made them wait until you’d had a chance to get some rest since I knew you’d tell the same tale. Now it’s nearly noon, and we can put it off no longer.”

  The whole time Turek had been talking they’d been walking to command headquarters. Now, as Eril walked with Turek into the main reception area, all talk suddenly stopped, and everyone stared at Eril. He couldn’t figure out exactly what those looks meant. Some were irritated like Turek, but others looked wary or even fearful.

  Eril felt largely unprepared to meet with The Marshall. He was wearing the same clothes he’d spent the entire day fighting in. They were covered in dust, sweat, and other people’s dried blood. He was sure most rats had better-looking nests than what his hair now looked, but he just couldn’t get up enough enthusiasm to care. He still felt bone-weary, though not as tired as when he’d fallen into bed.

  They walked through the reception area and straight into The Marshall’s large office where he stood looking at maps on his desk. Several other officers were also in the room.

  The Marshall looked up, his eyes taking Eril in and he broke into a grin. “And here, finally, comes our forgetful hero!” he boomed out to the whole room.

  “Young man,” The Marshall continued solemnly, “the entire nation of Jull owes you a great debt of gratitude,” he paused and continued in a wry tone, “even if you did make us wait entirely too long to discover that good news, rather than the disaster we feared.”

  The Marshall continued to look at Eril, then said to one of his aides. “Get this man a chair,” he pointed at Eril. “Just looking at you, I begin to see why you might not have had the presence of mind to inform us of the victory. Even now you look like something the cat drug in.”

  Eril felt somewhat embarrassed, but sat gratefully when a chair was placed behind him.

  “Still,” The Marshall continued, as he too sat down. “Couldn’t you have taken even a moment to let us know you beat them?”

  “I’m sorry,” Eril said, feeling it. “I forgot I had the communicator. And after the battle, I was so tired, all I could think of was getting back to Jull and to sleep.”

  “I can see that,” The Marshall continued, “But you realize that all of us here didn’t sleep at all last night waiting on word from you.”

  Eril now really did feel bad. He just nodded, not trusting his voice. The Marshall nodded in understanding and then brightened. “Well, it matters not when we heard. We have heard, and you were the savior to Jull twice yesterday. First beating back and convincing the pig-headed Nitholians to retreat and then killing that second charzen scum and breaking the Espilonians. I can think of nothing short of tales from the Great War that can even begin to compare. You truly are the hero of Jull.

  “Assuming the enemy navies don’t choose today to press their attack, I see no reason that we shouldn’t have a celebration this evening to feast you and commemorate these great victories!”

  Eril suddenly sat bolt upright. “What time is it?” he asked nervously.

  “Just past noon. Why do you ask?” The Marshall said.

  “I promised the Nitholians that if they weren’t back across the border by mid-day that I’d destroy their forces. I need to go back to ensure they retreated as promised.”

  “You promised them that, did you?” The Marshall asked with an amused air. “I suppose if you made the threat, you had better make sure that they know you’re ready to follow through.”

  The Marshall looked around. “Is there any reason I shouldn’t go with the young wizard here to survey the battle scene and ensure the enemy has kept to their promise?”

  There was murmuring from the various aides and officers, but none of them seemed to want to disagree.

  “That’s settled then,” The Marshall said. “In half an hour, I want both of you wizards down in the square ready to take me to the battle scene.”

  Turek touched Eril’s shoulder. “Let’s go. If we only have half an hour, we need to move fast to be ready.”

  The next half hour involved Eril washing and getting fresh clothes as well as bolting down some food. Turek arranged for a nearly identical wagon to the one they’d used the previous day to be ready. Eril spent a few minutes by the fire in the workroom pulling heat from the flames to recharge some of the stores he’d lost in all the fighting the previous day.

  After having hustled to make The Marshall’s timeline. Turek and Eril sat in the driver’s seat waiting for another half hour.

  “Just like the military,” grumbled Turek. “Hurry up and wait.”

  An idea occurred to Eril. “I just remembered. My shield amulet is still broken, and yours won’t cover everyone in this wagon.”

  “Hmmm. You’re right. I’d forgotten that too. Ah, but the solution is simple enough. I’ll cast the shield spell while you handle the flying.”

  “That should work,” Eril paused. “Can you thicken your shield in a given direction?”

  “Why, yes, I can. I’m surprised you know that trick. I thought hardly anyone knew it. Why do you ask?”

  “If you can thicken the shield in the front, we can fly faster.”

  “Oh, I see. That makes sense.” Turek looked around and then said, “This power ring really is wonderful. I don’t think I could keep up a shield that would cover the wagon for very long normally, but with this ring, it should be nearly effortless.”

  Eril smiled. At that moment, The Marshall and his entourage finally made their appearance. The Marshall went to sit on the Driver’s seat with Eril and Turek while all the others went to the benches in the back.

  After everyone was settled, Eril said, “Please hold on folks. It can be a bit disturbing when we first take off.”

  As the wagon began to rise, Turek began to chant the spell for his shield. Eril continued to push the wagon higher as the various officers pointed out different parts of the city from their new vantage point. Some of the officers stared rigidly at the bed of the wagon.

  Once he felt they were high enough and had verified that Turek’s shield was in place, Eril began to accelerate the wagon up above the road northward. He continued to accelerate until the wind noise became a bother and then held them there.

  Within fifteen minutes, they were passing the advance elements of the retreating army. The forces cheered as they saw them fly by. In another ten minutes they were coming to the scene of the previous day’s massacre.

  All the bodies had been gathered and put in piles for burial or burning. Eril had steeled himself, but was still amazed at the sheer number of the dead.

  The Marshall said, “Take us down. No. Take us up to see if the Nitholians remained sufficiently afraid of you to clear the border. We’ll visit the dead on the way back.”

  Eril took the wagon back up higher and accelerated forward. They passed rapidly over where the enemy encampment had been the previous night. Nothing was left but the various craters from Eril’s attacks.

  They traveled at high speed for another ten minutes before they saw the trailing elements of the enemy army. Eril deliberately brought them over the enemy forces, high enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about any anxious bowman taking a shot at them.

  “This really is a large force,” The Marshall marveled. “I’m not sure if we could have held out against just them.”

  “Where is the border?” Turek asked.

  “See that ridgeline there,” The Marshall explained. “They have slightly less than half their forces across. You gave them a deadline of mid-day, did you not, Master Eril?”

  Eril had not missed the honorific The Marshall used, but didn’t want to contradict him either. In truth, by righ
t of combat, Eril knew he had earned his mastership several times over.

  “That is the time I gave them. Though, it does look like they are moving as rapidly as they can.”

  “I’m not sure they’re moving as rapidly as if they were ‘properly’ motivated,” The Marshall said. “What do you think, Master Turek?”

  “I think I’m of a notion to give them some motivation,” Turek said.

  With that, Turek allowed the shield to drop as he began the gesticulations for an energy ball. Eril could see he was using his power ring to feed the power for the spell. Once he had created a nearly three-foot diameter ball, he sent it directly at the rear elements of the enemy column. The ball impacted, destroying the final wagon in the column and killing several people.

  Alarm spread through the enemy camp as they realized where the attack had originated. The troops moved to a quick march while the drivers whipped their mounts to pull the wagons more rapidly. Eril didn’t want to kill any more people, so he conjured a ball of his own but sent it near enough to the troops to cause a few to be blown from their feet, but none were killed.

  The Marshall said, “That’s better than they deserve. Can you do one of those void things and start swallowing them?”

  Eril was concerned by the bloodthirsty tone in the Marshall’s voice. He didn’t want to disobey an order, but had no stomach for more killing if he could avoid it.

  Eril opened a twelve-foot void portal twenty yards behind the last remaining wagon. The Marshall watched for a moment and swore under his breath as he saw plants and dirt being sucked into the black maw and heard the wailing as air was sucked into the black hole.

  “Now I see why those other generals decided to retreat. You can’t fight a thing like that.”

  Meanwhile, the entire enemy column had broken formation and was running at top speed to get over the border. The Marshall grunted in satisfaction.

  “Look at them run. Ha. They deserve this. Chase them with that portal thing, Eril. I want to see them flee like the rats they are.”

  Focusing on the portal, Eril started it slowly moving up the hill along the road. He didn’t really want to catch anyone, but he had no problem with making them run.

  Chapter 69

  That night, the city of Jull held a large celebration. While the threat from the enemy navies still existed, the danger posed by the two attacking armies had been averted, without the city ever coming under direct attack.

  Rows of trestle tables were set up in the city’s central square, and musicians played while food and drink were consumed in abundance. Eril sat at the head table, at the right hand of The Marshall and on the left of Prince Cavalar, the son of the ruler of Jull, King Edvarrs. The King was absent from the celebration, being very old and seldom appearing in public. The prince was in his fifties thin and frail from a childhood disease that left his right leg paralyzed and that entire side of his body weak.

  Eril found out rapidly that though the prince was physically weak, his mind was quite sharp. He quizzed Eril constantly on every part of the two battles and on Eril’s purpose in coming to Jull’s aid.

  Here, for the first time since he came to Jull, he found someone who agreed with Master Silurian on the threat posed by the demon wizards. He also agreed that his and the king’s policy of denying the demon wizards place in his land was a significant factor in why Nitholia and Espilona had chosen to wage their war.

  “Master Eril,” the prince said. “I agree with your Master Silurian. I have seen and received intelligence that agents of Grimor are moving through the land. The charzen are just the most visible sign of it. It has been building for years. I remember my father, the king, speaking of it over a decade ago. Back then, I thought he was seeing shadows, but I have come to understand he was more perceptive than most.”

  “I’m glad I have been able to help Jull, your grace. I just wish there were a more effective way to remove support for the demon wizards.”

  “I agree, young man. The problem of the demons and their wizards is, unfortunately, a flaw of the human character. There have always been those who are happy to benefit at the expense of others. The demons and the wizards who employ them are only a manifestation of this tendency. There have always been, and I fear always will be those who value their own comfort and ease even if it comes at the expense of other’s suffering.”

  “But how can we change that?”

  “The only thing that has ever occurred to me is that we must make them realize the true price of the suffering they cause, most likely by making them suffer it themselves.

  “The demon wizards who came with those two armies are dead. I have to believe that their fellows will take notice and be more cautious. Also, the fact that you largely spared both armies will not have gone unnoticed.

  “Those troops and commanders will remember that you gave them the chance to escape, where the demon wizards would not have afforded our forces the same privilege. If the positions had been reversed, they would not have stopped until all our forces were either destroyed or in chains. I guarantee that your mercy will be remembered. Unfortunately, some will see it as weakness, but I think more will see it for what it was.”

  Shortly after this, the prince excused himself and limped away. The Marshall too soon left to continue the preparations for the expected naval attack. This left Eril sitting alone at the center of the head table. He felt uncomfortable and got up.

  As he moved away from the table, a group of younger officers that he vaguely knew from planning meetings with The Marshall approached him.

  “Well, you appear to have survived the head table still in possession of your wits,” the lead officer said jovially. “I don’t know how you do it. The prince on one side and The Marshall on the other. It must have been tedious conversation all around.”

  Eril thought of disagreeing. He really had enjoyed his conversation with the prince, and he didn’t know if this man was making a joke or was serious in his estimation of talk at the head table.

  “It wasn’t all that bad,” Eril said, trying to strike the right balance to not offend the man. “The prince really is very astute, and I found we agree very much on the politics of this war.”

  “Politics,” the man said, “Bah! That really is the province of princes and not for the likes of a common soldier like me,” the man, who was clearly a mid-grade officer, not a common soldier, said. “All I know is that if the Marshall or some general says we have to take some objective, then that’s what we do. I don’t think about the politics of the thing. Isn’t that right?” he said, clapping his arm around Eril’s shoulder.

  “This,” he said, holding up a tankard, “is politics enough for me. We won this battle, and maybe later the war. But for now, we celebrate,” he said as he tilted his head back, taking a large swig.

  Eril suddenly found a tankard being pressed into his hand. Another one of the junior officers loudly said, “Drink with us, master wizard. You are the hero of the day, the savior of Jull,” and took a pull on his own tankard.

  Looking around, Eril felt the warm glow of everyone within earshot raising their cups or tankards in a toast. He really was the hero of the day, and while these people didn’t know him directly, they knew of him and his exploits. They wanted to celebrate him. He was the guest of honor. Eril raised is own tankard in salute, and the crowd clapped and hooted their approval.

  Just as Eril was about to drink deeply, he flashed back to an experience back at castle Kord. He had just finished a hard day of being under attack and then working tactics with the castle soldiers. Just like this, there had been a larger than normal meal with all the off-duty soldiers celebrating the exploits of the day. The soldiers had been in high spirits, and everyone had been drinking who wasn’t on duty.

  Up until this point, Eril had never taken strong drink. It was a habit Master Silurian had drilled into him. “A wizard can never afford to dull his senses, for they are his only defense.”

  That night Eril had allowed the soldier
s to convince him to try some of the strong ales and hard liqueur. Eril had felt that his mind fuzzed a bit. Initially, he used his power ring to burn away the poison of the alcohol, but after doing that two or three times, he forgot to do it.

  Suddenly, there was Master Dorull, his face like a thundercloud. He said nothing, but conjured a magic missile and let it fly straight at Eril. Eril tried to invoke his shield amulet to ward off the missile, but his mind wouldn’t react fast enough. The missile hit.

  The next thing Eril knew, he was waking up in his own bed with his head aching abominably. He looked to the side and saw Master Dorull sitting there, reading. Without looking up, he solemnly said, “You’re dead. I killed you last night.”

  Eril rolled further to his side, groaned, and then reached for power from his rings. They were gone. His hand flew to his breast only to find that his amulets were gone too.

  “Like I said,” Dorull continued, not looking at Eril. “You’re dead. When a wizard dies in combat, the winner takes everything he wants.”

  Eril struggled to sit up, his head pounding and vision swimming. “What do you mean, Master? I’m talking to you, I’m not dead.”

  Dorull swiveled to stare daggers at him now and spoke with barely contained rage. “The only reason you’re still alive is that I’m your master, not one of your enemies. Any wizard, and half of the men in that room last night could have killed you, and you would have not been able to stop them.

  “I know Silurian taught you better. So, why did you let your guard down and let those men poison your mind?”

  “I thought I could finally relax, just for a bit. I thought, here I was safe,” Eril glowered at the older wizard. “Obviously, I was wrong. You’ll never let me have a break.” He rolled back over and faced away, trying to hold back tears.

  Eril heard Dorull stand, then was yanked around so that the formerly ancient, but now almost youthful, face of Dorull was only inches from his. Eril was forced to look into those eyes, and his insides shriveled. Those eyes had an ancient haunted look to them.