The Mage (The Hidden Realm) Page 3

  “What would you have me do then?” asked Elerian. “Should I leave at once?”

  “My advice would be to wait a little longer,” said Balbus. “Remain here until you have gained your full strength and power. Then you will be able to deal with any enemies you might encounter out in the wide world.”

  “The Goblins are not likely to be searching for me after all this time,” said Elerian doubtfully. He smiled at the look of surprise on Balbus’s face. “I overheard you and Tullius talking one day,” he said with a flash of his usual good humor. “I have known that the Goblins were my mysterious enemies for some time now.”

  Balbus smiled too. “Perhaps you are right, but at least for now, you should continue to wear your disguise.”

  “I would not wish to do otherwise,” replied Elerian. “The form I wear now is the one I am most comfortable with. That shape Urbanus forced upon me seemed alien to me. I do not think I could ever accept it as my natural form.”

  “That feeling will pass with time, I think,” said Balbus. “You have gotten too used to thinking of yourself as a Hesperian.”

  “Perhaps,” said Elerian doubtfully. He found that most of his anger and frustration had faded away. He was still unhappy with the changes in his life that had occurred today, but it was not fair to blame Balbus or Tullius for his problems. Both men had shown him nothing but kindness. Even though every day they had sheltered him had been one of risk to them, they had never complained or wavered in their commitment to keep him safe.

  “In any case,” he said reassuringly, “I am not angry with you or Tullius, at least not any more. I understand that the two of you did what you thought was best to protect all three of us from danger. If one of you, in your own way, had told me who I really was, I am sure everything would have been fine. It was the abrupt way Urbanus revealed the truth that upset me. I am certain he did it on purpose in order to cause me as much distress as possible. He really was an unpleasant creature.”

  Balbus did not say anything for a moment, but the relief on his face was evident. He had always feared that Elerian might resent what he and Tullius had done to save his life when he learned the truth about his past. With nothing more to say, he resumed chopping weeds, and after a few moments, Elerian fetched another hoe from the barn and joined him. The peace of the green, orderly garden soon muted Elerian’s troubles, and he continued to work in silence next to Balbus for the rest of the evening, until the fading light forced Balbus to go inside the farmhouse.

  While Balbus and Elerian enjoyed a late supper, an old enemy of Elerian’s crept back into the Abercius under the cover of darkness, after an absence of many years. Pursued by the Goblins in the hunt Elerian had recalled from his childhood, Drusus had leapt into the Avius to save his life from their leopardi, but he had not drowned, as the Goblins had supposed. Instead, he had swum for miles downstream, staying underwater as much as possible, until he was certain that he had left his pursuers behind. Fortune had favored him. The anguis that lived in the lower part of the river failed to detect his sleek, supple form as he swam with barely a ripple through the dark waters in which they made their home. He had emerged unscathed on the south bank of the river, where it flowed into the Ancharus.

  Unaware that the Goblins thought him dead, drowned in the river, Drusus feared to return to his old abode in the Abercius. Staying under the cover of the forest that bordered the river, he had traveled south along the western bank of the Ancharus, crossing the river at Esdras over the old bridge built by the Dwarves at the height of their power. Still in fear for his life, he had vanished into the wilds of Ancharia. While Elerian grew and perfected his skills as a mage and a warrior, Drusus hid himself in remote groves and dark caves, living in constant fear that the Goblins would discover his whereabouts and resume their hunt for him. His fear allowed the brutish side of his nature to become dominant. As his thoughts grew murky and animal like, he thought only of surviving and hiding, starting nervously at every strange sound and sudden motion. Years passed. No one disturbed him, and his fear gradually subsided, allowing the human side of his mind to surface and reason again.

  “They must think me dead, drowned in the Avius,” he had thought to himself, as he gnawed the bones of his victims in the dark. He began to brood over what might have brought the Goblin’s wrath down upon his head. Sarius, the leader of the Goblin company that had hunted him, eventually became the focus of his slow, difficult thoughts.

  “He is to blame,” Drusus had eventually reasoned to himself. “He must have discovered the Elf’s torn shirt in the forest and reported to Torquatus that the Elf child died under the fangs of the lupins. Thinking the last Elf dead, Torquatus must have decided that he no longer needed old Drusus alive.” The thought of the Goblin king’s treachery had brought an involuntary growl of anger from Drusus, and his thick tail had angrily lashed his dark furred flanks. His fury had the effect of strengthening the human side of his nature, clearing his thoughts.

  “I see now that he never intended to fulfill the promise he made to me so long ago,” he had snarled to himself.” His eyes gleaming with a wicked light, he had concocted a plan to force Torquatus to honor his ancient promise, the one thing that Drusus had never forgotten over the long years he had spent in beast form.

  “I will find the child that eluded me,” he had thought to himself. “Once I have him, I can convince Torquatus that he has been tricked; a hand torn from the boy and delivered by one of his servants should suffice. Then, to obtain the rest of the Elf, he will have to give me what he promised long ago,” he had thought to himself.

  Drusus had set off for the Abercius, but bearing in mind that he would most likely be slain on sight by the Goblins if they were still about, he had traveled along remote paths. Gliding like an evil shadow, he had passed through the forest, bloodlust and anger driving him to slay any creature that crossed his path. On this, the first night of his return, chance guided his soft footfalls near the resting place of Urbanus. Drusus had no idea the Ondredon was near nor would he have cared if he had known. All of his attention was given over to the scent trail that had appeared on the ground at his feet. With wet, snuffling black nostrils, he puzzled it out. Two men had approached this place but only one had left. Accompanying the man’s scent was the scent of an Elf, the same Elf he was looking for. Without troubling himself over where the Elf had come from, Drusus followed the trail to Tullius’s clearing.

  This was a place he had visited more than once in the past. Although he had never succeeded in breeching the invisible barrier that guarded the clearing, Drusus circled the ring of rowan trees growing around it, hopefully probing for a weak spot, as he had done so many times in the past. He snarled softly in disappointment after making a complete circle around the clearing, for he had found no opening through which he could crawl. His own powers were not strong enough to breech the shield spell, for they had diminished after the change forced upon him by the Goblin king so long ago. Frustrated, he crouched by the gate and glared at the house, raising his head and sniffing the night breeze as he did so. The Elf had entered the clearing, but only one man occupied it now. A second man had left the clearing, but Drusus ignored his trail. His clouded wits were not equal to solving this mystery, and spitting in rage and frustration like a great cat, he bent his will to forcing the man inside the house to come to him.

  Inside his home, Tullius started out of a deep sleep as his body began to rise out of bed in response to Drusus’ command. Clearing the fog of sleep from his mind, he began a protracted battle of wills with Drusus. Tullius’s resistance was too strong, and snarling in frustration, Drusus finally gave up and retreated into the forest. Pale and trembling in every limb from the desperate contest he had barely won, Tullius rose from his bed and rekindled a fire in his hearth. Sitting on the hearthstone wrapped in a blanket, with a mug of strong wine in his right hand, he wondered what new terror had come to trouble the forest and why it had come to his doorstep.

  The failure to overcome
Tullius had left Drusus in a red rage. Prowling through the forest canopy, he saw an unsuspecting fallow deer pass beneath him and dropped onto her spotted back. Bearing her down to the ground with his great weight, he tore out her throat with the razor sharp claws that tipped the powerful, shortened fingers of his right hand. As he lapped the warm blood of his kill with his rough tongue, he resolved to return to Tullius’s clearing as often as he must, until he discovered where the Elf had hidden himself.

  AN UNSUCCESSFUL HUNT

  After his troubling meeting with Urbanus, Elerian found that his old life, which he had considered rather dull since ending his apprenticeship as a mage, had suddenly become precious to him now that he was in danger of losing it. For several days, he immersed himself in the familiar routines of life on Balbus’s farm, wrapping them around him like an old, familiar cloak.

  “What difference does it make who I was born,” he often thought to himself as he worked at familiar tasks. “A shape changer can assume any form he desires. If I wish to remain a Hesperian for the rest of my life, there is nothing to prevent it. Indeed, I have the power to take the final step and become a true Hesperian.” Elerian thought long and hard on this last point, but even though it seemed disloyal to Balbus, he found that he had no desire to become entirely human if it meant giving up the physical gifts inherited from his unknown parents.

  “I do not wish to be blind at night or to lose the freedom of the forest canopy,” he thought to himself. “Why I might even lose my mage powers, remaining trapped forever in my new form. I will remain as I am for now at least,” he decided, and did his best to put the whole matter out of his mind.

  One evening, a week after Drusus’ return, Elerian decided to stop and see Tullius again. He still felt guilty about the way he had acted toward the mage, so he took another bottle of fine red wine to make amends. Although it was still well before sunset when he arrived, Elerian found Tullius locked inside his house and had to knock several times before the mage cautiously opened the door a few inches. Elerian noticed, at once, that Tullius looked rather haggard.

  “What are you doing here?” Tullius asked harshly without opening the door any further. “It will be dark soon.”

  “I stopped by to see how you were getting along,” said Elerian dryly. “I see you are as difficult as ever.”

  “If everyone would just leave me alone, I would be fine,” said Tullius irritably. He made no move to open the door so that Elerian could enter his rundown house.

  “Are you going to let me in or not?” asked Elerian in surprise when he realized that Tullius had no intention of inviting him in.

  “No I am not,” said Tullius sharply. “I am in no mood for visitors. Go home!”

  Elerian made no move to leave the mage’s doorstep. The drawn, gaunt look on Tullius’s face worried him. “Why are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked suspiciously. “Are you in some kind of trouble? Do you have something hidden inside?” He tried, unsuccessfully, to look through the partially open door

  “No to both your questions,” said Tullius curtly. “Go home!”

  “Not until you tell me what is wrong,” said Elerian stubbornly. He and Tullius glared at each other for a moment, but Tullius gave in first.

  “Very well then, if you must know, I will show you, but you must not linger here long.” Darting nervous glances all around him, Tullius led the way across his front yard and out through his front gate. He turned to his left and pointed to a patch of bare ground under one of the trees with the end of his polished staff. “What do you think of that?” he asked.

  Elerian bent down on his right knee, examining the queer tracks that were faintly visible in the soft ground. They appeared to be a strange blend of human and animal traits. There were no heel marks, but the balls of the feet and the long toes were clearly visible. A deep claw mark pierced the ground near the end of each toe. Strangest of all was the mark of a stubby thumb on some of the tracks, giving them the appearance of a badly distorted human hand.

  “I have never seen tracks like these before!” said Elerian in surprise. “Could they be from a mutare?”

  “A mutare would leave heel marks with its hind feet,” said Tullius. “These footprints were left by the venetor.”

  “The night stalker is dead,” objected Elerian. “Balbus told me that it disappeared in the same year that the Goblins left the country for good.”

  “It may have vanished for a time, but it has returned now,” said Tullius positively. “I have found the bodies of some of its victims in the forest. It tears out their throats and drinks their blood, leaving their flesh to rot. For some reason, I cannot fathom, it returns to my clearing each night.”

  Elerian understood now why Tullius looked so tired. He remembered how, years ago, the creature had tried to draw Balbus out of his home with an attack on his will. If the venetor was launching similar attacks against Tullius each night, it was only a matter of time before the mage’s resistance finally crumbled and he gave in to the creature’s command to leave the protection of his clearing.

  “I will track it down and destroy it for good this time so that it does not trouble you again,” said Elerian resolutely.

  “You will do no such thing!” said Tullius, now thoroughly alarmed.

  “Come and stay with Balbus and me then,” pleaded Elerian.

  “I would only put you and Balbus in danger,” replied Tullius. “I will remain here,” he said stubbornly. “There are protections around my clearing that the venetor cannot penetrate. Eventually, the creature will tire and leave me alone.”

  Unaware that Elerian already suspected they were occurring, Tullius made no mention of either the attacks on his will that came each night or the slow, steady drain on his strength that they caused. Instead, he said harshly, “The venetor is an enemy that is still beyond your powers. Go home and I will deal with the creature myself.”

  “Very well, Tullius, if that is what you wish,” said Elerian unexpectedly. “Be careful,” he said, handing the mage the bottle of wine he carried. Before Tullius could say anything more, Elerian turned and walked away, leaving the mage standing by his door with a surprised look on his face, for he had not expected Elerian to give in so easily. The relief on his face would have vanished instantly, however, if he could have read Elerian’s thoughts.

  “I will leave as you wish, Tullius,” thought Elerian to himself, “but I did not promise that I would not return. I will be back tonight whether you approve or not.” He walked swiftly through the forest with a light step that contrasted oddly with his sturdy frame, a subtle clue that he was more than the ordinary Hesperian he appeared to be. He kept a wary eye all about him. From all the stories he had heard, the venetor appeared only at night, but there were other dangers in the forest besides the night stalker.

  Balbus had supper on the table when Elerian arrived home. Together, they sat down to a hearty meal. As they ate, Elerian explained Tullius’s situation to a concerned Balbus. “I intend to stand watch tonight in one of his rowan trees in case the venetor appears again,” Elerian concluded. He waited for Balbus to object, but surprisingly enough, Balbus did not forbid him to go.

  “You are old enough to do as you wish,” he said calmly, “but be careful.”

  After the supper dishes were put away, Balbus stood in the doorway of the farmhouse and watched, unconcerned, as Elerian disappeared into the darkness, carrying a bow and a quiver full of gray-feathered arrows. Low in the sky, a thin crescent moon had already appeared. Balbus smiled to himself. Like Tullius, he was not sure Elerian was strong enough to confront the venetor on his own, but from past experience, he also knew that the creature never ventured out under the light of the moon. It was highly unlikely that Elerian would encounter the venetor tonight. Closing the door, Balbus walked over to his chair, sitting comfortably before a bright fire with Carbo lying at his feet.

  “One day, he will leave us and not return Carbo,” said Balbus sadly, remembering how confident and grown up
Elerian had looked as he had slipped off into the night. Carbo lifted an ear at Balbus’s voice and then went back to sleep. All was well for the moment, and that was enough for him, for he never worried about the future.

  While Balbus sat in front of his fire, Elerian made his way swiftly along the path that led to the lower forest, running soundlessly on light feet until he stood once more beneath the ring of guardian trees around Tullius’s clearing. Agile as a squirrel, he climbed into the great tree to the right of the gate and settled himself on a thick branch where it joined the trunk of the tree. Thirty feet above the ground, he sat cross-legged with his back against the trunk of the tree and kept a sleepless watch for the rest of the night, with his strung bow across his knees. As Balbus had correctly surmised, however, the venetor did not appear outside the circle of rowan trees that night.

  For three more nights, as the evening shadows gathered outside Balbus’s snug farmhouse, Elerian let himself quietly out the door, leaving Balbus to sit by the fire with Carbo. Balbus remained unconcerned, for the moon was waxing, and he was certain that Elerian would see no sign of Tullius’s dangerous stalker. On the fourth night, tired of sitting in a tree, Elerian began to search the forest surrounding Tullius’s home. Beneath the silver light of the swelling moon, he stepped nimbly and silently over the network of limbs that made up the forest canopy, carefully examining the ground below him.