Echoes of the Fourth Magic (18 page)

“Good in hearing,” Bellerian said. “Then I beg a small favor of ye.”

“Name it.”

“Take this.” He handed Del a bone cylinder, both its ends capped with cork. “When ye be in the realm of Illuma, seek ye the Silver Mage and give him this. Tell him I gave it to ye and that it is from our friend o’ the wood.”

“Mage?” Del asked. “You mean wizard?”

“Ayuh, a very great wizard indeed is Rudy Glendower.”

“Wow.” Del whistled, thrilled at the prospect of meeting such a man. This world was growing more and more fantastic to him every minute. What would a wizard be like? he wondered. What kind of power could this Rudy Glendower command, if any at all? Remembering his immediate surroundings, Del looked at the venerable and iron-willed man before him with a surprised and questioning expression.

Bellerian read the look on Del’s face and smiled. “No, me friend, I am no enchanter, but only a mortal man akin to yerself. None but four wizards be chanting spells in Aielle.”

“Of course, the Four trained by the Colonnae,” Del said, remembering Calae’s tale. Bellerian’s nod confirmed Del’s guess, and Del pressed on, even more excited.

“Tell me how to find this man.”

“Ye should’no’ huv a difficult time of it,” Bellerian replied, “Glendower bein’ the only one in all Illuma whose blood runs pure to human. And unless the ways of the dancing children huv changed, Ardaz, as they name him, is ever about.

“Show that to no one,” Bellerian continued soberly, indicating the bone case. “And bechance someone sees it, tell him ye found it by the roadside. Keep it our secret.”

Del assured the Ranger Lord that he would carry out the task. As Bellerian turned to leave, Del called him back. “You’ve trusted me and I thank you for that.” He studied Bellerian’s every reaction as he spoke, hoping to word his request just right. “Could you trust me some more? Could you do me a favor?”

Bellerian nodded cautiously.

“I want to know about the room,” Del asked. “Is it the magic of one of the Four? Did the Silver Mage create it?”

Bellerian hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, for having asked a favor of Del in the name of friendship and trust, he had no choice but to return the courtesy. “Suren the mark of Ardaz is upon it,” he said. “But in troth ’twas more the spellcasting of another. No more can I tell ye.”

“I understand,” Del said, satisfied. “And I thank you for saying as much as you did.”

“Go now and rest,” Bellerian said. “Tomorrow finds ye on the road.”

Del rejoined his snoozing companions and quickly fell into a sleep filled with heroic dreams of magics and sword-play and rescues from the fiery jaws of evil dragons. But then one image held him, dominating his train of thoughts with disturbing incessancy.

An eye was watching him.

A green eye, studying his every move and penetrating deeper to scrutinize his thoughts and the very feelings within his heart.

Finally the eye released him from its probing and Del dreamed that he was floating in the air. Up he went, past
the trees and clouds and beyond to a million stars—stars that spoke to him with their flashing lights and showed him fleeting glimpses of wondrous secrets and powers. They limned the edges of his consciousness, teasing him with unimagined knowledge, but he could not decipher their flickering code.

Then, abruptly, he was back in the Emerald Room, weightless still and hovering beside the crystal ball that hung above the bridge. And the eye was in the ball!

He awoke in darkness, the others breathing deeply around him, and all as it should be. He looked above the bridge and thought that he saw a flicker of green before all went black.

Del did not sleep the rest of the night. He wasn’t afraid, just curious. Something was calling to him and he longed to know what, or who, it might be.

R
EINHEISER PREPARED A
little surprise for his companions the following morning. He had learned much about manipulating the powers of the Emerald Room, even to the extent of coinciding its magic with events in the outside world. Confusion greeted Del, Billy, and Mitchell when they were awakened by the illusionary light of a sunrise within the room at the same moment that the real dawn was breaking outside. They barely had time to stretch the restful sleep out of their muscles and reorient themselves to their surroundings when Andovar opened the door.

“Come,” he said, “suren ’tis a merry day, and Avalon awaits.”

And when the men emerged from Bellerian’s house, they saw that Andovar was not exaggerating: it was indeed a beautiful day, comfortably cool and with a winsome spring breeze carrying the fragrances of budding life. Puffy white balls of clouds floated across the rich blue sky, and the sun beamed as if rejoicing that the last traces of winter had at last been left behind.

“Get yerself a morning meal,” Andovar said. “We’ve the time. Belexus is gone scouting the road ahead and sha’no’ return for a while, and I huv a notch in me sword needin’ fixing.”

Del drew his own sword. “Do you really think we’ll need them?”

“No’ for guessing,” Andovar replied. “Evil ones do’no’ stalk the grounds o’ Avalon, but sunpeak shall pass above us afore we see her blessed boughs. The road is e’er filled with dangers in the wild northland.” Del’s expression was caught somewhere between excitement and trepidation. “do’no’ worry, me friends,” Andovar added to console them all, “for this day ye ride beside the mightiest warrior o’ this age.”

“Such humility,” Mitchell grumbled, his sarcasm undiminished by a good night’s sleep.

“I speak not o’ meself,” Andovar retorted coldly. A proud man, proven in battle, he didn’t take lightly being insulted by an outlander. He stared unblinking at the captain and continued in a low, grim voice, “Me blade is worthy, alike all o’ the rangers, but Belexus is the one making the deeds for the singers o’ songs.”

Mitchell ignored the words and the glare, acting as if Andovar didn’t even exist.

“Killin’ the whip-dragon to save yer lives marks Belexus at fifteen,” Andovar told Billy and Del. “And he is no’ but a young man. The great Bellerian killed but twelve in his fightin’ days, and the beasts were more about back then. And Belexus once showed a true dragon to the other world. Not a big one, but even a small dragon is a foe beyond the strength of mortal men.

“But not beyond Belexus,” Andovar explained, his smile one of admiration untainted by envy. “By what me own eyes huv seen, even the largest o’ the dragonkind’d be hard put to it by the ringing sword of Belexus Backavar, son o’ Bellerian and prince to the Rangers o’ Avalon.”

“Backavar?” Del asked.

“ ‘Iron-arm’ in yer tongue,” Andovar explained. “ ’Tis a name he hus earned since his first fighting days. I am no wrong in saying, me eyes as witness, that he is a mightier warrior than Arien Silverleaf himself!”

Their looks told Andovar that they did not recognize the name.

“Arien Silverleaf,” the ranger repeated reverently. “Ye’ll be meeting him soon enough, for he is the Eldar of Illuma and very great and wise. But no more o’ yer questions. Things are needing doing and time is not enough!”

Belexus soon returned, and once again, unexpectedly, the four outlanders were left speechless. They stood in a grassy meadow, sheltered by a ring of huge boulders that seemed purposely placed to maintain secrecy. Andovar and another ranger worked nearby, selecting horses for the journey, and the men were indeed relieved that they would not be walking this time. Suddenly the horses began whinnying and stomping their hooves.

Del jumped back from the horse he was brushing.

“Lord Calamus draws near,” Andovar answered to his questioning look.

“Who?”

The ranger pointed toward the eastern sky. “Calamus,” he repeated solemnly, “winged Lord of Horses.” The men turned to scan the sky, shielding their eyes from the early morning glare. As soon as the sight registered, they stood with their mouths agape, for coming in low, under the fiery ball of the rising sun, was the unmistakable and unbelievable silhouette of a winged horse bearing a rider.

“Pegasus,” Reinheiser muttered.

“It can’t be,” Mitchell gasped. He stood perplexed. Everything that had come before, the talons, the Colonnae, the Emerald Room, even the whip-dragon, Mitchell could rationalize away as a deception or some form of technology. But now this. Pegasus! There was no explanation. The beast approaching was not mechanical or a trick of makeup. His breathing coming hard, he had to concentrate to keep his balance, forced now to accept that this whole adventure wasn’t merely a game. Even amidst the craziness and the death, Mitchell had held on to the hope that it was all some elaborate scheme.

Reality proved persistent, though. The building evidence had pushed Mitchell’s belief further and further back in his mind, and now this flying horse shoved it out completely, taking with it all his hopes of returning to a more controlled, more organized, and more familiar environment.

Seconds later the magnificent steed landed in the little knoll and Belexus hopped off its back. It was pure white, with a thick silvery mane that shimmered in the sunlight and coal-black saucer eyes sparkling with pride and spirit, and hinting at an intelligence that transcended its equine frame.

“Where did you get him?” Del asked, actually trembling with excitement.

“Belexus won him,” Andovar answered. “Spoil of the dragon’s lair.”

“Won him?” Belexus echoed skeptically. “No, Calamus canno’ be won.” He patted the mighty steed’s muscular neck and met the saucer eyes with his own, as if directing his words to the horse. “Calamus canno’ be won,” he repeated, “for he canno’ be owned. He is his own master, and woe to any who might try a rope on him!” The horse lord snorted its accord and stamped its foreleg hard.

Belexus spun back to the men, a boyish smile of exuberance stretched from ear to ear. “But now’s for going,” he proclaimed. “A clear road and a climbing sun. To Illuma!”

Del marveled at the ranger’s enthusiasm and envied that smile, for it shone untainted, pure joy unleashed for no reason other than the glory of the world about, an exuberance spawned by the simple thrill of existence. Del wondered if he would ever smile like that.

“Illuma!” Andovar echoed with the same innocent grin, and thus began the final leg of the eastern trek.

   They moved southeast at first, gaining even more distance from the great cliff, as further “guarding from watching eyes lurking in the northern mountains,” Belexus explained.

Soon they swung around directly eastward. The ground
sloped up slightly as they climbed toward the Crystal Mountains, the trail rocky and bare except for an occasional sprig or bush, but off to the south, the ground fell away more steeply, and in the distance lay a wide expanse of grassy fields. Hillocks rolled relentlessly southward like green ocean swells on and on as far as the men could see, and winding through them, a silver-blue snake, the great River Ne’er Ending.

Presently the trail leveled and the clip-clop of hooves on stone changed to softer thudding as the path transformed from stone to softer earth. Many large and jagged rocks still showed through all about them, but every stride took them deeper into more hospitable terrain. Grasses and scattered trees grew more general, and then, almost without warning, they came upon the edge of the mighty forest. Great oaks, tall and proud, stood thickly packed before them, running in a long line all the way down to meet the green plain. Belexus quickened their pace at the sight, and shortly after midday the travelers dismounted and ate their lunch in the shadow of Avalon.

Del directed most of his conversation toward Belexus, reiterating his sincere thanks for the rescue in the dangerous swamp.

A humble man, Belexus said little and seemed uncomfortable with the subject.

“Killing that monster was a feat of great strength,” Del mentioned.

Across the way, Mitchell chomped hard on his biscuit.

“A whip-dragon is indeed a mighty foe,” the ranger agreed. “But more a test o’ courage than strength, for ye must charge the beast and no waiting. If ye let it use the whips, then tears to yer kin. But if ye get too close for the snap, the beast is for beating.”

“Of course, it’s a whole lot easier if the damned thing is already busy with five other people,” the captain remarked dryly.

“In troth,” Belexus replied with a condescending grin,

“ ’Tis easier when the beast is at peace, and not ready for a fight.”

Knowing that Mitchell was looking for trouble and would push this issue, Del shouted, “Time to go!” and jumped to his feet.

“Ayuh,” Belexus agreed, still smiling down at the captain. “Past the time, by me thinking.”

As they made ready to leave, Belexus pulled Del aside. “Me friend,” he said, “If e’er ye’re faced with battle, keep to me words: The greatest advantage of a true warrior is neither strength nor quickness, but courage. Courage keeps yer head clear so ye might remember yer strengths and pull the mask off yer opponent’s weaknesses.”

“That’s advice I’ll hold on to,” Del said as he mounted his horse. And remember it he did, much to his benefit in the days to come.