Adventurers Wanted 2) The Horn of Moran (11 page)

“Who are you?” Alex demanded, a spark of anger igniting inside of him. “Why have you been watching me?”

“For the obvious reasons of course,” the figure answered. “I wanted to see you, to see what magic you have, and to get some idea of what you might become.”

“Who are you?” Alex asked again. He didn’t like being watched, and the answers the cloaked figure had given weren’t answers at all. Alex hated it when adults gave meaningless answers: “Because I said so”; “That’s how it is”; “You’ll understand when you’re older.” Alex had heard all those answers many times before. But today that kind of answer would not be enough. Today Alex wasn’t just another teenager asking questions. Today he was a wizard in training. Today he would get a real answer, whatever the cost.

“Then again, you may get no answer at all.”

“Wh—what?” Alex asked in surprise.

“Control. That is your weakness. You let your emotions run wild, and you lose all focus.”

With a wave of his hand, the cloaked figure brushed away Alex’s defensive magic as easily as brushing away old cobwebs. For a moment Alex was too stunned to react, but then the figure started to laugh.

Rage surged though Alex like an electric shock. His anger blinded him, and his magic went wild. Without thinking, he attacked the figure in front of him, attacked to make the laughter stop. It felt like a thousand little needles poking him, a thousand little voices jeering and making fun, but anger was all Alex could feel.

“Enough!” The cloaked figure said, and Alex’s magic shattered like glass.

Alex felt as if he’d been doused in ice-cold water, water that simply washed away his rage. He shivered and stumbled forward, only to be caught by the strange man.

“You had better learn some control if you want to survive,” the figure whispered, lowering Alex to the ground. “If you can’t control your own emotions, how can you ever hope to reach your full potential?”

“Who . . . who are you?” Alex asked once more in a desperate tone.

“Another time, young one. When you are ready.”

“It was you. It was
your
voice I heard when I confronted Otho.”

“Yes,” the figure answered. “You were about to let something terrible happen, and I could not allow that—even if that fool deserved it.”

“I don’t understand . . . Why?”

The figure turned and started to walk away, but Alex still wanted answers. He focused his mind, pushed away all of his emotions and questions, and reached out with his magic alone.

“Wait!”

It was a demand, not a request. Alex’s emotions were completely under control as he focused all of the magic he could muster toward the stranger. He tried to capture the figure with his magic, just as he might capture an object in his hand, but again he was surprised. There was nothing there, nothing at all for his magic to hold. The cloaked figure stopped dead, however, and turned slowly to face Alex once again.

“The day may come when you can hold me with a word, but it is not this day. Learn your lessons well, young wizard. If you manage to survive long enough, we will meet again.”

“But . . .” Alex started, stopping short.

The figure that had been so solid only a moment before suddenly changed to smoke. As Alex watched, the smoke began to drift away, and when he blinked, it was gone. There was no sign of the stranger he had followed, not even the smallest trace of magic. Then a soft whisper came to Alex’s ear, a whisper that seemed to come from all around him and inside of him at the same time.

“Be careful, young one. Evil is already close to you. If you do not learn to control your emotions, they will destroy you. When you send word to Vankin, tell him the Watchers have seen you. He will try to explain.”

* * *

It was a long time before Alex was even able to move. He felt completely drained. Slowly he got to his feet and leaned against a nearby wall. He closed his eyes for a moment as he tried to recover his strength. The sound of hurried footsteps forced his eyes open once more, and he turned to see Val heading toward him.

“Alex, are you all right?”

“A bit winded, but no harm done.”

“Sindar said you were checking on something, and he seemed worried,” Val explained. “I told him I’d come find you. You don’t look so good.”

“The emotions of the day,” said Alex.

“Yes, of course. I’ve heard that wizards often feel the emotions of others, and with so many people in the square and emotions so high . . .”

“I haven’t learned enough to control it all yet,” said Alex, not bothering to correct Val’s assumption. “I’ll be fine now. We should return to the party.”

Val nodded and walked with Alex back to the main square. The dancing appeared to have ended, and the wedding feast was about to begin. Alex wondered how long he’d been gone. He couldn’t seem to remember.

The feast was grand and long, and Alex’s strength slowly returned. He was glad that Sindar didn’t ask any questions when he sat down beside him. It had been a far more interesting day than Alex had thought it would be, and there were far too many things for him to think about. Besides, he already had enough questions of his own.

As the sun began to set, the wedding guests formed a line to present their gifts to the new couples. Alex suddenly worried about what Skeld and Tayo would think of his gifts. Tayo had been badly injured when they had fought Slathbog, and he hoped his gifts would not bring back bad memories for his friends now.

To Alex’s relief, Skeld and Tayo were pleased with the brooches and impressed by his design. Both Lilly and Indigo beamed at Alex as they pinned their new brooches on. They each took a turn to kiss him on the cheek in thanks. Alex was glad that he had been able to make his friends—and their new brides—happy on their wedding day.

That night before Alex went to bed, he wrote another letter to Whalen to let him know what was going on, but the more he wrote about his encounter with the cloaked figure, the more worried he became. Alex thought about everything the cloaked figure had said, including the promise that Whalen would try to explain who or what the Watchers were, but Alex felt certain that no explanation in a letter would be enough.

Alex felt even more unsettled about the fact that the cloaked figure had been able to brush away his magic with no real effort. The warning about evil being close was easy enough to understand, but not at all comforting. Alex didn’t know where the evil was coming from, and even worse, he still didn’t know how to control his emotions.

Whalen will know, Alex thought as he drifted off to sleep. Whalen will have the answers I need.

* * *

Alex woke early the next morning to a familiar dinging noise. Sitting up, he saw a geeb standing on the edge of his bed. He paid and thanked the geeb, then swiftly opened the letter from Whalen.

Dear Alex,

I must apologize. I should have prepared you better and pushed you harder to learn more than you have. I also should have taught you to control your emotions before now. I am truly sorry. I hope that you can forgive an old fool for trying to teach you as he would any other apprentice. But you are not a normal apprentice, Alex, and I must remember that.

You will, of course, have dozens of questions about the Watchers. Sadly, they are more myth than fact, and it is unclear how many of them there are. What little I can tell you is that they are known to appear from time to time to give warnings and advice, so you should pay attention to what was said.

I can also tell you that the Watchers are known to work for good, and to help where they can. They are incredibly powerful, but seldom use their magic directly. The fact that a Watcher actually let you see him—let alone spoke to you—is very impressive. Sadly, you will have to do as he said and wait for the answers to your questions, as only the Watchers can really answer them for you.

Regarding the Tower of the Moon. There are many stories and legends about the Tower, and once Bregnest told me that you would be going that way, I’ve been asking questions. You are correct that the Tower is the center of magical power for Norsland. But it has been more than two thousand years since a wizard has lived there. I’m sorry I do not have more information, but I’m still looking, and I have sent several letters to friends. As soon as I learn anything that might be helpful to you, I will send it along.

Now, as for your training, I’ve included some exercises to help you control your emotions. I want you to do them every night before you go to sleep and every morning when you wake up. They may seem boring or a bit odd, but they will help you more than you might think.

I’ve also included a list of books for your future reading, including instructions for transfiguration, which I believe you are ready to attempt. Start with small things at first—leaves, small rocks, things like that. If you have difficulty with the magic, let me know and I’ll do what I can to help.

Keep me informed on how your adventure is going. Keep your eyes open and study hard. I will hope for your success.

Yours in fellowship, Whalen

P.S. You might ask Sindar about how to control your emotions. He knows a great many things, and he might be able to help you even more than I can.

Alex considered Whalen’s letter for several minutes. It seemed that Whalen didn’t have all the answers he wanted, but he did have some good advice. Worrying about the Watcher wouldn’t do any good, but learning self-control would. Alex thought Sindar might be able to help him control his emotions, but he would have to wait until later to ask—the list of things he was supposed to start reading was surprisingly long.

Alex promised himself that he would do Whalen’s exercises every night and morning, even though they seemed strange to say the least. Most of what Whalen wanted him to do was concentrate and breathe slowly, but there were other things as well. Count backward from a thousand while controlling the speed of his breathing. Recite the alphabet backward as fast as he could in one breath. Even balancing objects on top of each other with his magic while reciting the alphabet backward and breathing slowly were part of the list. It didn’t make any sense to Alex, but he knew he would have to try.

* * *

Alex and his companions joined the Goodseed family for breakfast as usual the next morning, but there was a strange tension around the table. Michael seemed painfully excited, but nobody mentioned his birthday at all. At first Alex thought that Michael’s parents didn’t want to say anything in front of their guests, but then he saw Bregnest and Argus exchange knowing looks and he couldn’t help but smile at Michael’s impending surprise.

“Well, it should be an interesting day,” Argus said enthusiastically. “More feasts and parties with the wedding couples.”

“Perhaps you can tell us of the lands east and north of here,” said Bregnest. “It won’t be long before we are on our way once more.”

“Oh, yes, I can tell you a great deal about the lands you will cross,” said Argus. “But, you know, I seem to be forgetting something—something important.”

“That’s odd, I have the same feeling,” said Bregnest thoughtfully.

“Oh, stop it, both of you,” Mrs. Goodseed snapped, clearly unhappy with their teasing of Michael. “You both know very well that it’s Michael’s birthday, so you might as well say so.”

Alex and the rest of his companions laughed at Mrs. Goodseed’s outburst, and Michael laughed loudest of all.

It seemed that the entire company had bought birthday presents for Michael, despite Andy telling them not to. Val gave Michael a magical flute that played songs by itself. Sindar gave him a large book of stories that included many beautiful illustrations. Bregnest produced a fine new bow and a quiver of arrows, and he was quick to help when Michael couldn’t quite manage to string the bow by himself.

While everyone was wishing Michael a happy birthday, Andy slipped away from the table and out of the house. Mrs. Goodseed seemed to know what Andy was up to because she soon made a point of asking where Andy had gone.

“I believe he stepped outside,” said Halfdan, winking at Alex.

“Outside?” Mrs. Goodseed questioned, though she didn’t look at all surprised. “What in the world is he doing outside?”

“Perhaps we should go and see,” Halfdan suggested.

They all filed out of the front door and saw Andy standing in the courtyard with a beautiful black horse.

“I hope he’s the one you wanted,” Andy said as Michael ran toward him.

“Oh, he is,” exclaimed Michael, hugging Andy. “He’s perfect.”

“A fine-looking horse,” Halfdan commented. “And Alex and I have something that belongs to him.”

“What’s that?” Andy questioned, though it was obvious he knew what Halfdan was talking about.