The Mage (The Hidden Realm) Page 2

  Tullius’s words caused a rush of guilt in Elerian.

  “What would Tullius say if he knew that I almost suffered the same fate during my first shape change,” he wondered uneasily.

  “Was Urbanus telling the truth when he said I am not a Hesperian?” asked Elerian to change the subject. He was more than half convinced that everything the Ondredon had told him was a lie calculated to upset him as much as possible.

  “We will not talk about that here,” said Tullius, rising to his feet. “Once we are safely seated at my table, I will tell you the full story of your past as I know it.”

  They walked in silence after that, in single file with Tullius in the lead, each of them occupied with his own thoughts but still alert to the forest around them and any danger that might present itself.

  “What strange twists life takes at times,” thought Tullius to himself as he stole a quick glance over his shoulder at Elerian. “After all my warnings to Balbus to conceal Elerian’s past from him, I am the one who revealed it to him.”

  Elerian paid little attention to Tullius, being occupied with his own thoughts. At first, the change in his outward appearance occupied most of his attention, but he soon found that, beneath his strange exterior, he felt the same. “It is as if I have merely changed my clothes,” he thought to himself.

  Experienced in changing his shape, he soon adjusted to his new form and, instead, began to wonder what Tullius would say about his past. With his mind bubbling with questions like a pot full of boiling water, Elerian followed Tullius with barely contained impatience until they reached the ring of tall rowan trees that encircled Tullius’s home. The mage opened the rickety wooden gate that barred the only opening through the circle of trees and breathed a sigh of relief as he and Elerian passed through it, entering the protection of the shield spell that guarded the clearing around his home. They felt no resistance as they passed through the barrier, but any evil or dangerous creature that attempted to penetrate the ring of rowans would have encountered an invisible, impassable wall. Although Tullius had never spoken of the spell, Elerian had discovered its existence long ago with his mage sight. With his third eye, he saw it as a pale curtain of greenish light that stretched from one rowan tree to another to form a wall around the clearing.

  After retrieving the bottle of wine he had left by the gate, Tullius led the way across the thick, unkempt turf that covered his front yard. After Tullius opened his battered wooden front door, Elerian followed him into his dilapidated house. Beyond the door was a room that served Tullius as kitchen, sitting room, and bedroom. The same buckets and pots that Elerian had first seen as a child were still scattered across the stone floor, set out to catch leaks, for the roof continued to drip water whenever it rained. Tullius threaded his way through the obstacles on the floor, headed for the rickety wooden table in the middle of the room. He uncovered the mage light that sat in the center of the table, and a soft yellow light filled the room. Elerian cautiously sat on one of the two old chairs that stood near the table. It was a familiar setting for him, for he had learned most of his magical lessons at this same table. Tullius fetched two wooden cups from a shelf. After pouring a cup of red wine for each of them from the bottle Elerian had brought, he sat in the second chair, across from Elerian. There was a resigned look on his face as if he faced a necessary but unpleasant task.

  ELERIAN’S PAST

  Elerian twisted his wine cup in his long, unfamiliar fingers. Now that the moment had come to ask questions, he was unsure where to begin. “Was Urbanus telling the truth?” he asked finally. “Is this really my true form?”

  “Urbanus did not lie to you, Elerian,” said Tullius quietly. “You are not really a Hesperian.”

  “Why have you and Balbus deceived me, then, all these years?” asked Elerian with a reproachful look at Tullius.

  Tullius took a sip from his cup and paused a moment to sort out his thoughts. He had hoped this day would never come and was ill prepared for it. “I may as well start at the beginning,” he thought to himself at last. Looking across the table at Elerian, he began to speak. “Long ago, when you were very young, Elerian, Balbus found you, all alone, deep in the Abercius. I would guess that you were about five years of age at the time. You were being pursued by two beasts that resembled wolves. Balbus and Carbo slew both of them, saving your life. Not knowing what else to do, Balbus brought you home with him. Afterwards, fearing that there might be other enemies who would come looking for you, he came to me for help. When I heard his story, it seemed to me that his fears were well founded. From his description of the creatures he slew, I thought it likely that they were lupins, Goblins who had taken on the form of wolves. It seemed unlikely to me that they were tracking you by chance. Fearing that more of the creatures or their Goblin master might appear, seeking you out, I used magic to disguise you as a Hesperian, for that seemed the best way to keep you safe and hidden. I then urged Balbus to send you away to the south of Hesperia where you would be safest, but he would not consider giving you up. Fortunately for all three of us, your disguise was a success. Although Balbus believed his farm was watched for a time by the Goblins, and strangers came among us seeking a lost child, nothing ever came of it.”

  “Who were these strangers?” asked Elerian eagerly. “Perhaps they were my real family.”

  “I never saw them,” said Tullius, “but Balbus talked to them on several occasions. He said they had the appearance of Ancharians, but he was certain they were either in league with the Goblins or else they were Goblins who had taken on the appearance of men. His suspicions proved well founded. You may not remember, but Balbus and I were actually captured by Goblins not long after that.”

  Elerian had a sudden memory of chasing a Goblin with a flaming brand, as a young child. “I saved the two of you,” he said, surprised that he could have forgotten such an exciting incident. Other memories surfaced behind the first one, and Elerian smiled when he recalled how comical Tullius and Balbus had looked, trussed up in the Goblins’ net trap with Carbo’s bewildered face sticking out between the two of them.

  “Yes, you saved us,” said Tullius gravely. “Even as a young child, you displayed some unusual abilities. Several days after you freed us, the Goblins left the country and never returned.”

  “Their nighttime hunt passed near our farm before they departed,” said Elerian, recalling another long forgotten memory.

  “I heard them, too,” said Tullius. “I have often wondered what game they pursued that night. They followed their prey into the north toward the Avius and never returned.” He paused to take a sip of his wine before continuing his story. “There is little more to tell. Balbus and I both made discrete inquiries about you, after we were certain the Goblins were gone, but we were never able to discover any trace of your family, or where you might have come from.”

  “Urbanus said I was an Eirian,” Elerian reminded Tullius. “I have not heard of that race before.”

  “Perhaps not by that name,” said Tullius, “but you have learned to read and write their language.”

  Slowly, comprehension dawned on Elerian’s face. “You are talking about the language I learned that no one speaks anymore.”

  Yes,” said Tullius. “Eirian is the language of the Elves, and it is also the name they give themselves in their own tongue. The word Elf first came from the Dwarves, eventually finding its way into the common tongue. The Ancharians, however, still refer to the Elves as Eirians, for they were close to the Elves once and adopted many of their words.”

  “I can’t be an Elf,” said Elerian positively. “You told me yourself that the Elves that survived the Great War left the Middle Realm forever.”

  “That is what I and most other people believe,” said Tullius. “Balbus, however, is convinced that some of them may have fled south into the Abercius after the fall of Fimbria instead of passing over the western sea. I still have my doubts, but it would explain how you suddenly appeared in the middle of a trackless forest so m
any years ago, and why you can perform magic without the aid of a staff.”

  “If there were Elves in the Abercius, why did they never come searching for me then?” objected Elerian.

  “They may have all been slain by Goblins,” said Tullius sadly. “That would have been your fate, too, if Balbus had not found you before the lupins did.”

  Elerian was only half-convinced, in spite of all Tullius had told him. He found it too much to take in all at once. It was hard enough to accept that he was not a Hesperian. To suddenly discover that he might not be human was too great a leap.

  Tullius guessed at Elerian’s confusion and doubt. “Give yourself time to adjust,” he said kindly to Elerian. “Remember this is all conjecture. We really know nothing about you for certain.”

  “Perhaps I am human after all or at least part human,” said Elerian hopefully.

  “Perhaps,” said Tullius, but he sounded doubtful to Elerian.

  “Why did Urbanus take such a dislike to me?” asked Elerian, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Urbanus is an Ancharian,” said Tullius with a slight smile. “During the Great War, the Elves were instrumental in helping the Dwarves and the Tarsi defeat the Ancharians and their Goblin allies. Since Urbanus believed you to be an Elf, it is not surprising that he took an instant dislike to you.”

  “I did not care for him either,” admitted Elerian. “Were you really his apprentice?”

  “Yes,” said Tullius. “When he had taught me all that I was capable of learning, I left his service and returned to Hesperia. I did not expect to see him again, but one day he appeared suddenly at my door. After I invited him in, we sat at my table, and he told me that the end of his life was approaching. He had given much thought to how he might evade the doom of men and had finally decided to take the form of an oak tree, thinking thus to extend his span of years into centuries. I tried to dissuade him, for a shape changer’s mind is in constant danger of being subjugated by the new form that he takes on, but Urbanus refused to listen to me. He believed he was strong enough to resist any domination of his mind, and in the end, I promised that I would watch over him after he became a tree. At first, all seemed well, but after a time, I began to see a change in him. With each passing year, he became more like a tree, in thought as well as in shape. Today, as you have seen for yourself, Urbanus still lives and retains his power, but the day will come, I think, when he forgets his past entirely, and so, in the end, he will lose the identity that he wished so desperately to preserve.”

  “I do not feel sorry for him,” said Elerian with a frown. “He seemed both arrogant and disagreeable. Are all the Ondredon like Urbanus?”

  Tullius took a deep swallow from his cup before replying.

  “They are like and unlike,” said Tullius sadly. “Like Urbanus, they are all mages who sought to escape death, but they have different personalities. Even those with good hearts, however, have taken on the thoughts as well as the shapes of trees. Their concerns are no longer the concerns of men, and that makes them dangerous, for they are unpredictable. Those who had bad hearts to begin with have become even more dangerous. Over the centuries, their magic has seeped into the trees around them, traveling from root to root, and these groves are now perilous for anything that goes on two feet. You should know, too, Elerian that the Ondredon and the trees they have subjugated can move about. You can never tell for certain where you might encounter them. I seldom find Urbanus in the same place twice.”

  Elerian barely heard Tullius’s warning, for his thoughts had already taken a different path. “I can accept all that you have told me,” he said slowly, “but I do not understand why you and Balbus never told me who I really was.”

  Tullius stared steadily back at Elerian without flinching. “It was at my insistence that the truth was kept from you,” he said quietly. “Balbus, I think, would have told you long ago, but I persuaded him to keep quiet. At first, I was only afraid you might somehow betray yourself if you knew your true history, but later, I decided that it would be best for you to complete your training as an apprentice before we told you the truth.”

  “My training was done many months ago,” Elerian reminded the mage.

  Tullius shrugged. “I admit that I was in no hurry to reveal your past to you,” he said unapologetically, “so I delayed telling Balbus that he could now reveal your history to you. In my mind, only unhappiness and danger could follow such a disclosure. Even if you are an Elf, Elerian, Fimbria is destroyed, and the Elves are no more,” he said bluntly. “There is nothing for you to go back to, and no one to welcome you if you did. At least as a Hesperian, you have a family and a people. Had I known ahead of time that Urbanus would reveal your disguise, I would never have taken you to meet him,” he said regretfully.”

  “That would have been best,” said Elerian morosely, ignoring the remorse in Tullius’s voice. Because of Tullius’s misstep and the Ancharian mage’s malice, he had lost everything that was dear and familiar to him without gaining anything in return. Tullius had given him no real answers about his past, raising only questions that might never be answered.

  Tullius’s eyes glittered for a moment at the reproach in Elerian’s voice, but he said mildly, “What is done is done. Sulking about it will certainly not make it any better. You now have a clear choice before you. You can remain a Hesperian, or you can become once more that child Balbus found in the forest. The decision is yours. Until you choose, however, I think it would be safer if you resumed your disguise.”

  Elerian shrugged. He felt no attachment to the alien form he now wore. It would be a relief to resume his old, familiar shape. He spoke no word, but a pale, golden light spilled from the fingers of his right hand, covering him from head to foot. Elerian felt once more that peculiar sense of movement in his body as it assumed the form that had become so familiar to him over the years.

  A look of surprise crossed Tullius’s face. Lacking mage sight, he did not see the spell Elerian had cast, but he saw Elerian’s body flow and change. It was his first hint that Elerian had mastered the basic shape-changing spell Tullius had given him at the end of his apprenticeship.

  “Well done,” said Tullius. “I see that you have been experimenting with the spell I taught you.”

  Elerian did not have the heart to tell Tullius that he had refined the mage’s spell, developing it into an enchantment that could perform a true shape change instead of a simple change in appearance. Shaking off his anger and reminding himself of how much Tullius had done for him over the years, Elerian smiled and said, “I have practiced it now and then.”

  Rising from his chair, he took his leave of Tullius and set off for home. Once he left the safety of Tullius’s clearing, he kept a wary eye on the surrounding forest, but his mind remained preoccupied with the events of the day. His first anger and resentment had passed, but his confusion remained.

  “Only this morning,” he thought to himself, “I knew exactly who I was and what the course of my life was to be. A few years in the army like Balbus in his youth and then a return home to help Balbus in his old age and to quietly practice my mage craft. Now,” he thought bitterly to himself, “through the meanness of an old Ancharian, I have lost my past, my future, and my very identity. I am no relation to Balbus at all; perhaps I am not even human.” This last thought was the hardest to deal with, for it raised a seemingly insurmountable barrier between himself and the friendly people among whom he had dwelt for so long. “They would never accept me if they saw me in my true form,” he thought to himself.

  In this uncertain frame of mind, Elerian followed the familiar path that led to Balbus’s farm. When he arrived, he found Balbus working in his garden. At seventy-four, Balbus was not much changed from the day he had first found Elerian wandering in the forest. His hair and beard were all white now, but otherwise, his short, sturdy figure looked untouched by the years.

  Balbus looked up as Elerian approached and seemed to know immediately that something was wrong. Leaning on
the handle of his hoe with both hands, he waited apprehensively for Elerian to speak.

  “I found out who I really am today,” Elerian said unhappily, and he went on to explain how Urbanus had revealed to him that he was not really a Hesperian. “I feel as if my whole life has been stolen from me,” concluded Elerian angrily. “I was happy as your grandson, and I wished for nothing more from life than to remain here,” he said awkwardly.

  The misery Balbus felt was reflected in his face. Now, more than ever, he wished that he had listened to his own counsel and told Elerian the truth long ago. “That would have been my wish too, Elerian, if things were different,” he said softly, “but it cannot be. Even if we ignored the past and you stayed by my side, I am old and will leave the confines of this world before many more years pass. What will you do then? Can you remain on this small farm, alone, as a simple farmer when even now the forest calls to you each night? Balbus’s warm brown eyes suddenly twinkled at the guilty look on Elerian’s face. “Yes, I have known about your outings after dark for some time. I am an old man, Elerian, but I do not sleep as soundly as you think.”

  “I like to spend time in the forest,” admitted Elerian, “but that does not mean I wish to go away forever.”

  “In time you will feel differently,” said Balbus positively. “I have always felt that you were sent to Tullius and me for training and protection, but I believed from the beginning that you would leave someday to reclaim your heritage.”

  “What heritage?” asked Elerian, his frustration evident in his voice. “Tullius has already told me that you were never able to discover anything certain about my past.”

  “That will be your task, I think,” said Balbus calmly. “I believe that somewhere to the north of where I found you in the Abercius, you will find your answers, or at least a path that may lead you to the answers you seek. The choice, of course, is yours. You can, if you prefer, remain here in hiding and all will be as it was before. That was the life Tullius would have given you, if the choice had been left to him. He would have sent you away into southern Hesperia to remain safe but forever ignorant of your past. It was I who insisted that you stay here so that someday you would learn your true history. I understood the necessity of hiding you, Elerian, but I never felt right about it,” said Balbus sadly. “It seemed wrong to me to take something magical and make it ordinary, but there was no other way I could keep you safe.”