Diary of a Conjurer (28 page)

“Baldergash, Xylepher come down here so I
can talk to you.” Silvio’s throat was sore, the corners of his
mouth were chapped to a crust, and he still hadn’t caught his
breath well enough to make his voice travel. He watched the little
man jump across the rocks and slide down boulders to get to him. He
brushed the stones off his hands as he raced to the conjurer’s
side.

“Weasels! We need mounts. The Northland
people need to be warned and we’re traveling way too slow. How soon
could you round them up? How soon?” Silvio asked. He wiped the
sweat from his forehead. “They live all over underground, sir. We
could tunnel for them.”

“Then tunnel. Gather weasels for everyone.
Send your fastest troops to the Kaemperns and warn them. Tell them
we’re coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A carriage? Can you make something like the
raft you made for me? Something to carry the girl?”

“The weasels won’t be able to pull a travois,
sir, but the tamed wolves of the Kaemperns’ live in these woods. We
might be able find one, with the weasel’s help. It would be rough
riding.”

“Rough, bah. Rough is out at sea,” Silvio
nodded to the shoreline, though he couldn’t see the ships from
where he was, he knew they must be a spectacular sight to have the
little people so upset. “That’s rough. Hacatine and her army are
rough. We just need to get to Alcove forest. We’ll catch horses at
Elysian’s Fields.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get your men riding for Kaempern as soon as
you are mounted. Fast. Then go and find the wolves. I’ll wait for
you. Bring the travois and Promise here. We’ll caravan with your
families and stay together.” Silvio slid down into the dirt and
leaned against the cool rock.

“Two, sir?” Xylepher asked.

“Two what?”

“Two travois? One for you?”

Silvio scowled at the little man. There was a
time when the conjurer hadn’t needed help; he used to walk long
distances. He used to be strong. He once could travel many miles
without even resting, or eating. Now he needed a travois, like a
blind girl. He didn’t answer, but Xylepher would know what to
do.

“Hurry, before that cloud bursts open.”

Eye to Eye

Ivar trudged through the sand; his feet sank
into the coarse granules until his ankles were covered. The wind
blew at his back pushing him further up the beach, westward. The
shores of Alcove were a purple haze in the distance, the deep green
of the forest kissed the coastline and beyond that were the
wetlands.

Wet air from the breakers
spat into the breeze, mixing with pellets of sand and hair,
blasting into his eyes and mouth. He saw the skiff at the water’s
edge out of the corner of his eye, but he paid it no heed. He
wouldn’t talk to the sorceress queen. He had nothing to say to her.
He was going home. It didn’t matter to him anymore if he failed in
his quest or not. Aren would find a way to help him give back
Silvio’s powers, and Ivar could return to his life as a Kaempern.
He’d had enough confusion, enough memory, and enough wickedness.
He’d seen who he was. The lost little boy from another world had a
home now. There was no need to disturb the past. The Kaempern Sage
was right; there are some things better left
buried
.

I wish I had heeded Amleth’s warning before
all this happened.

“And some things that can never be buried
again find their way to the surface.” Hacatine matched his
footsteps, her silver hair blowing in rhythm with his.

“Leave me alone,” he said.

Her body was like a shadow, gowned in black,
graceful, keeping perfect time with him.

He stopped and turned to her. “Go away.”

She released a cruel, curt laugh. “It’s not
that easy. You’re mine. I can’t just relinquish my possessions like
that.”

He squinted. The wind blew his hair in every
direction. Splashes of sea water flew into his face. The world had
an ominous aura and Hacatine’s pale skin glowed blue. “I’m not
yours.”

“Oh? Watch this!” With a raised eyebrow
Hacatine nodded. A bolt of lightning struck the ground with a
sudden clap. Ivar jumped, startled from the sound. As the
brightness dimmed, a gold dagger lay in the sand.

He fixed his gaze on the shiny weapon
glimmering before him, the same image that had appeared in his
visions ever since the night he took Promise’s magic.

He saw himself vividly this time.

Daryl rummaged through the campsite along
with Andre, looking for money, for jewelry, for tools. Anything
metal would be worth trading, at least that’s what Andre said. They
had to hurry, though, or the tourists would be back. They’d go to
prison if they were caught, and then their hands would be cut off,
both hands at the wrist, or the elbow if they cried. That’s what
Andre told him.

“
Look here,” Andre called from the
campfire.

Daryl looked over his shoulder. He had just
picked up a backpack lying near the tent.

“
Cards. Tarot cards. I know about these.
They come from gypsies. These men are gypsies. Look, they tell your
fortune.”

“
What fortune?”

“
Your future, stupid. How rich you will be
when you get old. Like Uncle Adrian.” Andre shoved the cards in his
pocket.

“
He’s not rich. He lives off the sea. No
one off the sea is rich.”

“
When they find the shipwrecks my uncle
will be rich. He says I won’t have to work anymore then because
there will be lots of gold for us. Just wait and see. Next time we
sail, you’ll see.”

“
How do you know? They always say next
time wait and see.” Daryl reached into the nylon pack; the pocket
was empty except for a weight at the bottom. He reached further and
grasped onto a cold hard object. With his back to Andre, Daryl
pulled out a gold hilted dagger, tucked into a leather sheath, a
good two hands in length. His mouth drooled for want, but he
couldn’t admire it too long. If Andre saw it, he’d take it. Daryl
shoved the dagger under his shirt and secured it by tying his knee
britches tighter at the waist. He looked over his shoulder at the
older boy, who was already walking the trail to the shack.

“
Hurry up. Get out of there before they
come back.” Andre hissed at him.

“You see that, don’t you?” Hacatine
asked.

Hypnotized by the vision, he eyed Hacatine
looking at him in its reflection, a grin on her face.

The dagger disappeared.

“You stole it, didn’t you?”

Ivar swallowed. Yes, he took it, when he was
a young boy. He wasn’t a thief anymore. He’d learn the right way to
live, the Kaempern way. He avoided her stare.

“It was mine!” Hacatine lifted her chin with
an air of authority. “And until you return it to me, I own
you.”

Ivar’s heart had never beat so hard; his mind
had never been so numb. He had nothing to say to the woman. He had
no answer for her.

“Oh, don’t be so afraid. It’s not all that
bad. Somewhere in your memory you know what happened to the dagger,
and together we’ll find it. And when we do, you’ll have completed
your quest . . .”

Those hazel eyes were smiling, but it was an
evil smile.

Ivar’s heart raced against his chest, and
pulsated in his palms. He glanced at his hands which had turned a
vibrant green, Silvio’s green, but it wasn’t enough power and he
hadn’t enough control to use it against her. It would be a mistake
to try. When he closed his fist to hide the luminous flesh, he
lifted his eyes and they locked with hers.

She too must have seen his hands and
Silvio’s magic. But the only response she offered was a slight curl
of her lips. “And then you can go home. You see? We can work
together after all, can’t we?”

Ivar moved his lips, no word came through
them, but after he cleared his throat he answered. “I don’t want to
work with you. I don’t want to be around you.”

“You have no choice.” Her voice mocked his.
She spoke just as quietly, but, unlike him, her words came
fluently. “That magic that you have isn’t yours either, is it? What
happened to the old man after you stole his power? He slithered out
of my clutches you know? Sank one of my ships. But don’t worry. Now
that I know where his magic is, it will be easy to get my revenge.
They’ll both pay, though I guess Promise already has.”

“What?”

She opened her eyes as wide as his. “Oh! You
don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“What you did to that pretty little
girlfriend of yours when you stole her magic? You blinded her,
Ivar. She can’t see a thing, and now she’s alone in the wilderness
preparing to die a miserable death. Oh yes, she’ll die. Either
she’ll starve or her body will be torn apart by wolves.” Hacatine
shook her head, her mouth twisted in a sneer. “Another weight on
your conscience. What a pity. And after all she did for you. After
she risked her life to rescue you.” The woman clicked her tongue
sending a spasm of shame through Ivar’s veins. “Why? Ivar? All
because of some silly quest to find out who you were? You’d let her
die for a little piece of knowledge that isn’t going to do you any
good, anyway?” She stopped short and snickered. “So, tell me. How’s
it going for you? Are you discovering your past?”

Thunder rumbled the ground under his feet.
The sky grew dark. Black clouds hovered over them as the ocean
pounded on the sands.

“Or maybe you think I’m lying? Do you need
proof? Here.” The woman tossed her head and as she did an image of
Promise surrounded by wolves appeared in the sky above them. It was
only a flash before it was gone but it was enough to still Ivar’s
heart and drop his mouth open.

Sweat poured from his brow. “You’re making
that up.”

“No, Ivar. These images are real. And look
what else I found.”

She showed him Silvio’s pathetic body lying
motionless next to the cliff that Ivar had climbed earlier that
day. “Pathetic old man. I think he was looking for you when he
collapsed.” Hacatine whispered.

Ivar sickened at the sight. His blood boiled,
but he kept his fists clenched tight holding the power in check.
“You’re lying.”

“No, dear boy. I’m not lying. But I can help
make things better for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Return my dagger, and I’ll take the guilt
away.”

The youth turned toward the east, toward the
mountains he had just descended. It was possible there was still
time to save Silvio. He could get to the old man before the night
was over. Together perhaps they could save Promise.

As he moved away from her, Hacatine grabbed
his arm.

Mist sprayed at their faces, flying from the
ocean. Rain fell from the pregnant clouds. The thrust of the storm
would soon be on them.

“You can’t change who you are. Thief!”

He pulled away from her. “And you can’t tell
me who I am. I’ve not found out the truth yet. The only truth I’ve
seen is your wickedness.”

“And you’ve been lured to it, many times.
Easily I might add. I think you have an attraction for evil. It’s
pretty obvious, actually. Face the facts, Ivar. You will always be
that thieving little Daryl boy.”

“I’m a Kaempern.”

She laughed. “You are no more a Kaempern than
Promise is a gypsy. You two amuse me with your alter egos. Stop
lying to yourself. What were you feeling when you dove into the
water and found my ship?”

Ivar stood his ground as Hacatine moved
nearer. “Ah! See! And how did it affect you when you pulled the
magic from Promise? It felt pretty good, didn’t it?”

He shook his head, though he remembered the
power racing through his veins and the thrill it triggered.

“You can’t deny it can you? No, not any more
than you can deny who you are. Daryl. You stole that dagger from
those men in the other world.”

“I was young. I didn’t know what I was
doing.”

“Young? That makes it worse. Stealing is in
your blood. Look at you. You’ve stolen Silvio’s magic. Promise’s
sight.” She shook her head. “And my dagger. You’re a thief, Ivar.
Nothing better. Congratulations for reaching your Crossing. You now
know who and what you are.” Her laugh felt like sand rubbing across
his bones. “Go on ahead. Continue your journey. Wherever the wind
takes you. There’s probably more dirt to dig up. Find out all of
the details if you must. It will be a little more trouble for you,
but the conclusion you come to will be the same either way. If you
need relief, just remember I’m here to trade. My dagger for your
life! You’ll be begging me to take it by the time you get
back.”

He watched her walk back to her skiff.
Lightning flashed across the blackened sky as the rain thundered
down. His hair clung to his face. Water streamed down his brow, his
nose, his cheeks. His clothes were already soaked as droplets beat
against his body. He turned back to the east. He would find Silvio
and prove her wrong. He’d give the conjurer his magic and then be
rid of the queen’s covetousness, and if Promise were still alive
he’d give her back her sight. He didn’t want it.

His body trembled, the streams of rain that
reached his tongue were salty and he didn’t know if it came from
the sea, or his from his heart.

Daryl tied his pony to a tree and shivered.
The storm was violent; the wind blew hard and beat the rain against
him like pellets of stone. He caressed the dagger as if it would
keep him warm. The weapon was the only thing he had. It was his
treasure, but it couldn’t feed him, not in this storm. He would go
another night without eating, another night of stomach pain.
Pulling the blanket that he had found in the cache, the boy threw
the fleece on the needles under a pine that offered little
protection from the weather. He lay low, gaining only a little
shelter from the wind. He tried to doze, but the smell of smoke
kept him awake. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when the
aroma of burning wood mixed with the smell of food, he sat up.