Diary of a Conjurer (23 page)

Ivar wiped the sand and salt from his face
and shook his hair, and then his feet crumbled underneath him and
he fell. He wasn’t sure what had traumatized him the most. Almost
drowning, or the dream? The dusty village? The apple tree stump?
The files, the sickness, the boarded houses? He sat cross-legged
and covered his face.

The thunder of the rolling surf hypnotized
him. He looked up and watched the breakers, numb until Promise
finally spoke.

“I saw it too,” she said softly. “And I
thought you had died.” She stood and walked away.

Ivar rose to his feet. Taking a moment to
gain his balance, he followed her. “You saw it? The dream?”

“It wasn’t a dream. I can’t see your
dreams.”

“What was it?” he asked.

“A memory.”

His pace slowed. A damp wind blew and
moisture clouded the rays of the sun. It would be foggy again soon.
Promise climbed the cliffs ahead of him. He felt an urgent need to
stay with her.

“Wait,” he called out.

She stopped.

“Tell me more.”

“I can’t tell you more.”

“You can. You can look into me again, like
you did on the ship.”

She shook her head and laughed. “You’re on a
quest. What good is it if I give you all your answers? Would that
make you a man?”

“I think the Wind brought me to you. I think
you’re my only hope.”

“You think.” She snickered and leapt onto
another boulder.

Her grace and strength amazed Ivar and he
found himself wishing he’d already finished his quest. He wished he
weren’t skinny and youthful but that he was confident and strong,
like she was.

She led him to the top of the bank, a grassy
cliff that overlooked Skerry Point, though the sea drowned the
jetty now; white caps speckled the shimmering waters. Mist
disguised the horizon morphing into thick gray clouds. From there
the bells could be heard harmonizing with the thundering waves.

She turned and walked inland. Nothing but
wind torn pine grew here. Oddly shaped, with mutated arms branching
out against the gray. An eagle roosted on one of them.

“Where are we going?”

“You need water, don’t you?”

Ivar's water skin had fallen from his
shoulder when the surf took him. He was thirsty.

“There’s a spring up here.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Once.”

The grass at their feet grew thick and the
scent of mint broke loose as Ivar stepped through it.

“Here.” She knelt, next to a spring that
seeped out from a cover or watercress and trickled over the rocks.
“It’s good water.”

Ivar fell on his knees next to her, and
cupped his hands, pulling the water to his lips. He had a sudden
awareness she was watching him, not just watching what he was
doing, but watching his spirit, his soul. He sensed her thoughts,
though he wasn’t able to interpret them. As he drank a strange
tingling sensation overwhelmed him. For some odd reason he felt he
had crawled into Silvio’s body. He heard the wizard’s word in his
head.
“You don’t know what her motive is. She might have saved
your life to torture you. Those sorceresses, they do that. They’re
evil.”

Ivar shook his head. He shouldn’t entertain
such notions. She’d been nothing but good to him, having saved his
life twice. But when he felt the cold barrel of a gun next to his
cheek, his mind went blank. He looked up to where Promise had been
but she was gone and in her place was a stranger.

“Get up,” the man said. Ivar obeyed. The
abductor’s dreadlocks hung past his shoulders, his breath smelled
foul, and his eyes were as deep as night. Two other men were
leaving the spring. They pushed Promise down a trail through the
woods. Dreadlocks shoved his gun into Ivar' ribs prompting him to
follow the others.

They walked through a green meadow that
overlooked the western side of Skerry, and then descended gradually
toward a wide-open beach. The sun was low on the horizon as they
approached a camp. Ivar smelled the fire before he saw it, the
scent of fish being smoked on open coals. His stomach growled and
he looked anxiously at his captor, who merely nudged him on.

The man was dark. His skin was brown, his
hair was black, and his eyes were deep as night. No one in this
world was that dark skinned, save Ivar. Could they be ancestors? Is
this a chance meeting? Is it fate?

Maybe something important was about to
happen.

Promise had already arrived at the campfire
by the time Ivar was coached out of the woods. She sat on a
blanket, watching him. Their three captors spoke loudly to each
other. Their language was foreign. A fourth man, lighter haired,
sat near the fire with his back to them holding something on his
lap. Ivar couldn’t tell what it was but it held the man’s interest
until Dreadlocks shouted at him. The blond turned toward his
friends.

“Stop arguing.” A sour sneer parted the blond
man’s lips. He looked directly at Dreadlocks, combed Ivar with a
gaze, and glanced briefly at Promise. “Just stop all that
bickering. Good grief you’re going to force me to tie you all up.
We’ll settle the matter as soon as I figure this out. Sit down and
eat your dinner.” Cross-legged, he shuffled his body around to face
the others.

“When are you going to get us out of here,
Lyle?” the shorter of the men asked, shoving his pistol in his belt
and grabbing the hot pan from the coals. He flinched, dropped the
skillet and blew on his fingers.

“Watch it, Ray. Those fish weren’t easy
catching.”

“Dimwit.”

The three scooted closer to the pan and
picked at their dinner with their hands, spitting bones and
charcoal onto the sand next to them. Ivar’ mouth watered, and his
stomach growled. He glanced at Promise, wondering if she were as
hungry. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him, nor had her glower
disappeared. He turned away from her stare, not knowing if she were
dissecting him with her mind, if she were angry, or if she blamed
him for their abduction, or all three.

They weren’t really kidnapped, though. Aside
from the guns the men were waving carelessly about, neither he nor
Promise had been tied. Intrigued by the device on the man’s lap,
Ivar scooted closer to Lyle to get a better look. The instrument
was lit brighter than the fire itself, blue light and colorful
circles rotated like stars on the flat surface. Hypnotized by the
patterns, they seemed familiar. So enchanted by them, Ivar didn’t
notice Lyle looking at him.

“Who are these people?” Lyle asked shaking
his hair away from his eyes. He was a young man, Amleth’s age;
though his skin was pitted he seemed cleaner, and more intelligent
than the three that had dragged them out of the hills.

“We found them at the spring,” Dreadlocks
answered, smiling a toothless smile. “I say we kill them.”

“Why? What would be the benefit in that?”

Ivar liked Lyle’s logic.

“What’s the benefit of keeping them around?
We’ll just have to feed them?”

“Just let them go,” Lyle set his case on the
ground and stood. “They’re just natives, youngsters at that.” He
rubbed his chin, looking down at Ivar and then at Promise. “Kids in
a mystery world. Who are they, I wonder?” He laughed. “Maybe they
do know something. You,” he addressed Ivar and signaled with his
thumb for him to stand.

“Look, kid, we’re lost. Do you have any idea
how to get out of here?” Lyle’s eyes had a twinkle to them, and his
smile was catching.

Ivar grinned back, though it was his nerves
taking control of his facial muscles. There was nothing
particularly happy about this moment. His tongue slipped into its
crack between his teeth. “To where?”

The man laughed. “To where? That’s funny.” He
chuckled. This time his laugh sent an eerie sensation down Ivar'
spine. Lyle was laughing at him. “Yeah, you probably don’t know
anything about who we are or where we come from, do you? Are you
one of those sea villagers? The ones with the gold?”

The way the firelight danced on Lyle’s face,
the peculiarities of the night, the shipwrecked crew, gave Ivar an
odd feeling, as though he had been here before, or somewhere like
it.

Ivar glanced at Promise. Promise shook her
head.

“No. No, I’m not.”

Dreadlocks grabbed his collar, “I saw you
looking at the miss. You’re lying, aren’t you?” Ivar’s heart jumped
when the man raised his pistol to his face. Dreadlocks shoved him
back and Ivar lost his balance, stumbling over Promise. Startled,
and hoping he hadn’t hurt her he caught her stare. She was looking
at his hands and then Ivar noticed why. They were glowing
green.

“Let’s just get rid of them, Lyle. I don’t
trust anyone from this place.” The whites of Dreadlock’s eyes
sparkled in the firelight.

“I say we keep the girl, kill the boy.” Ray
chimed in, his mouth full of food. He stood.

Lyle held his hands up. “No. Calm down. They
haven’t done anything wrong. I say you give me enough time to open
the portal to get us out of here, and leave them alone.” Lyle spoke
with authority but the others laughed.

“You’re a fraud, Lyle. We’ve waited long
enough,” Ray said.

“It’s your navigating that got us shipwrecked
in the first place.” The third man chimed in. “Why should we wait
for you to do anything?”

“Shipwrecked and out half a million euros.”
Dreadlocks added.

“The arsenal was only worth that if we came
back with gold.” Lyle defended himself with flair, tossing his hair
and setting his jaw.

“Which we’re not going to do without a ship,
are we?” Ray put his gun at Lyle’s chest.

“Kill me and you’ll all be doomed.” Lyle
turned serious. “We’re not getting out of here at all without my
skills. We might not need a ship if I can find the right portal.”
Lyle stood a few inches taller than Ray, and remained amazingly
calm considering the situation he was in.

Ray pushed him and the sudden impact sent
Lyle tumbling into the sand. He quickly scrambled for his device,
closed the case and tucked it under his arm.

“It’s impossible to navigate waters that
aren’t on the charts,” he added, catching his breath. “You have no
right blaming me for any of this.”

Ray drew his gun and discharged it into the
air, for what reason Ivar couldn’t figure. Dreadlocks drew his gun
as well and pointed it at Promise, at Lyle, and then at Promise
again. Ivar’ heart beat wildly and he looked for an exit, some
means of escape that wouldn’t land a bullet in his back. But he
couldn’t run, not while the gun was pointed at Promise. He had
enough Kaempern honor compelling him to protect her, though it
surprised him she hadn’t used any magic against the miscreants. She
stood, fearless, yet motionless.

“Leave her alone,” Ivar cried out and raced
in-between Promise and the gun. Proud of his act of valor, a wide
smile crept over Ivar’ face, his tongue slid into its crack, his
eyes beamed sure of the daring image he portrayed.

Dreadlocks raised his pistol at both of them
but Ivar stood even taller. Though Ivar meant to grab Promise and
run as fast as he could, when he moved his arms, green dust flew
from his hands and landed on Dreadlocks. The man fell backwards
with his clothes on fire. The campfire exploded, flames flew high
into the sky and embers drifted onto the beach.

What happened?

Ivar caught the surprised look on Promise’s
face. Eyes wide, he swung his arms back the other way. Ray screamed
in pain as his pants ignited. Lyle dodged the flame by jumping and
the others raced toward the ocean.

Confident in his newly found power, Ivar took
Promise by her shoulders and moved her a few steps away. Pivoting
back around, he rolled up his sleeves, pulled his elbows back and
shot his arms out at the four men, fingers extended, eyes closed.
In his mind he heard Silvio’s hiss, and saw that one green eye
popping out at him. Green dust scattered everywhere, spiraling into
the heavens with a wind so forceful he lost his balance and fell to
the ground.

He opened his eyes in time to see the remains
of a dust devil disappearing into the evening sky. The men were
gone.

“Whoa!”

Fruit’s Labor

“What will it be? Lobster? Fresh bread and
cheese? A taste of mutton?” Ivar had already conjured a table on
the beach, a bowl of fresh fruit as a centerpiece and two goblets
of dark steaming tea.

Promise kept her distance while Ivar
experimented with his magic. Enthralled with his newly discovered
abilities, the youth visualized all the comforts he’d been missing
since he left Kaempern, and some that he never had but only heard
about.

“Come on Promise, you must be as hungry as I
am, and I’m famished.” He closed his eyes considering what he would
most like to eat. It had been a long time since he had consumed a
hot bowl of stew, thick with gravy and big chunks of fresh
vegetables. He flicked his fingers at the table, peeked, and
smiled. “Look! Venison. Come on. What are you waiting for? Let’s
eat.”

Ivar placed himself on the bench he had made,
and picked up his spoon. It was every bit as tasty as Britta’s
stew, his hunger finally being satisfied. He closed his eyes for a
moment as the broth slid down his throat and warmed his insides.
When he opened them, he saw Promise still standing in the
shadows.

“Why won’t you eat with me?” he asked.

He snapped his fingers to create butter and
goat cheese for his bread and a dish of herbs to flavor his
stew.

“That’s not how we were taught to use our
magic,” Promise said, still aloof.

“Well, I’m not you. I’m not a sorceress, and
I never lived on the island of Taikus. Your rules don’t apply to
me.”

“What does apply to you?”

Ivar gave her a wide grin, “Nothing. That is,
nothing in the way of rules.”

“What about the Kaemperns’ way of life?
Doesn’t that apply to you?”