Diary of a Conjurer (20 page)

An arm hooked his neck, pulling him off
balance. Silvio’s legs crumbled under him. His attacker held him
upright. A blade slid dangerously close to his throat as a body
pressed against him from behind. The moon backlit the form a woman
dressed in black as she stepped out of the reeds He recognized her
immediately. She threw her head back and laughed.

“Well, if it isn’t the exiled Silvio du
Bontantus. That green film that rushes through your veins could
hardly be mistaken. Wherever have you been? I’ve been looking for
you for at least a hundred years.”

The person’s grip on him was so tight Silvio
was unable to speak. He could hardly breathe.

Hacatine’s irises were dull in the night,
and her face pale like white silk. Her high cheekbones revealed her
hardness, and her long silver hair, whiter than Silvio’s, danced
briskly in the breeze. “I’m on a mission, Conjurer, and I’m quite
certain you can help me.” She moved closer.

Silvio closed his eyes as tight as he could.
This could be his end but she won’t get what she wants. He may not
be a match for her, but there is still a way to keep her from
stealing his magic. He could transfer his wizardry to someone else
as long as that person was visible his mind, and he could see Ivar
sleeping by the campfire. Magic stirred inside him as it coagulated
in his blood.

“I’ve heard that my dagger may be on
Deception Peak, the mountain those obnoxious Kaemperns guard with
their silly little wind chimes. Word has it that you’ve been a spy
for those men all these long years.” She touched his hair, combing
it away from his face. Her voice was breathy as she leaned near his
ear. Her perfume reminded him of everything he ever despised.
Everyone on Taikus knew how she made the fragrance, crushed from
lilacs steeped with fermented bones. He spat, unable to contain his
hate. She laughed.

“My forest fire wasn’t enough to flush you
out when you were a lad, was it Silvio? You were too smart for me,
weren’t you?” Stepping back, she laughed. “But see, I should have
been more patient. Look how easily you fell into my hands.” She
grabbed his arm above his bony elbow and shook it. “But frankly,
Silvio, I’m disappointed in the lack of care you’ve taken. You were
so young and strong when you left your mother, and now look at you,
old and crooked–and worthless.” She bent over and breathed on his
face again, signaling the warrior woman who clenched the knife at
his throat to relax her hold. “Why if I didn’t know better, I’d say
your mother is younger than you are! Look at me,” she took his chin
in her hand; her daggered nails cut his skin. Silvio shut his eyes
even tighter and turned his head in defiance. The warrior stepped
away so abruptly Silvio fell backward, but caught himself before he
hit the ground.

“Open your eyes, Silvio. Let me take your
burden from you. You don’t need that magic anymore. It will do you
no good in the dungeon.”

Though his eyes were still closed, the
conjurer found his bearings by the sound of the sea and turned his
head in the direction of his camp. He took a deep breath and opened
his eyes. From their sockets he shot forth a bolt of green dust. A
flash like lightning raced to where Ivar was sleeping. Silvio
watched his magic disappear into the dark. No time for remorse, in
a split second it was gone.

“What did you do?” Hacatine shrieked and
jumped away.

He sighed and looked at the
sorceress queen
. You will never
know.

“No matter. I will have time for harvesting
your power. You’re my prisoner now and will be until you tell me
everything you know, including where my dagger is.”

Silvio dusted his beard. Drained of strength,
he looked sheepishly at the women who encircled him. “I’m afraid I
don’t have a lot to tell. I haven’t seen your dagger.”

Hacatine laughed and motioned for her guards
to take him.

The Warrior, Promise

Ivar slept part of the night, but woke
shivering as the fog rolled in. His clothes and bedding were damp,
and what glowed in the fire pit were only a few embers emitting a
billowing cloud of smoke. He reached for a branch of driftwood to
stir the coals, and then laid the stick on the fire, scooting
closer to the flame, warming his chilled body. Once he was warm
enough to stop shaking, he looked around the camp and realized
Silvio’s bed was empty. “Silvio?” he whispered. He stepped past the
campfire and peered into the dark. “Hey, old man, you out
there?”

There was no answer, no sound other than the
bells of Skerry clanging in time with the rise and fall of the
rolling sea. They seemed closer than they had been. Either the tide
was coming in, or the fog drove their song closer to the earth, or
both.

“Silvio?” Ivar repeated, this time worried.
Why would the old man suddenly up and leave him? He thought they
had become friends?

“He’s not here.”

That voice! Ivar spun around. He should have
expected a visitor, what with the ship mooring offshore and
Silvio’s constant warnings. But when the woman stepped forward his
jaw dropped in surprise. It wasn’t the silver queen. It was the
statue. The pretty woman. Promise.

Her auburn hair flowed in waves over her
shoulders as she pulled her furs snug to her neck. Her eyes were
large, dark; her skin bronze in the firelight. “It’s damp tonight,
damp and cold.” A subtle smile crossed her face.

Ivar feasted his eyes on her beauty, charmed
by some sinister spell. “You–you’re not a statue anymore?” An
awkward question Ivar wished he hadn’t asked. He had little
experience talking to a woman, and he had no idea what to say to
one who had held him prisoner. “I should probably know this, but I
just wanted to make sure. Were you the one who pulled me out of the
ocean?”

“I launched our skiff just as Hacatine went
into the cabin. I knew she was going to have you thrown overboard;
she’s so superstitious about the North Wind. The Songs shipwrecked
her once before, you know.”

“No. I didn’t know that.” Ivar felt
vulnerable being so indebted to her. He felt he was turning into
soft clay ready for molding. when he looked at her. “Why did you do
that? Why did you rescue me? I mean I was your prisoner as much as
I was hers. Why did you save me? Wasn’t that kind of risky for
you?”

She laughed, a note of cynicism in her tone.
“You’d be of no use to anyone dead.”

Wood from the fire popped, sending a hot
ember spiraling into the space between them. “Oh.” Ivar had hoped
there was more to the rescue than just stashing him away for future
use. “Well then, thanks, and I guess the old man was right.”

Her brown eyes widened. “What old man?”

Ivar snickered. He wasted his time sleeping.
He should have stayed awake and made a bow and arrow, or at least
carved a point on a stick that he could use for a spear. Enemies
seemed to sneak around every bush on this side of the ocean. “So!
Did Hacatine follow you here?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” The muscles around his mouth
tightened and his tongue found the gap between his teeth. “What’s
your plan then, to tie me up and torture me? Eat my soul?”

“What would stop me?”

He had no weapon and she had already proven
how much stronger she was when she wrestled him on the ship. There
probably wasn’t anything he could do to stop her aside from
running. He was fast. “The Northwind, maybe?” He hoped.

He cleared his throat, glancing first at the
fire before he met her eyes again. “Look, I don’t know what you
want from me because I’ve done nothing to you or to your queen.” He
held his arms out in innocence. “I have nothing for you.”

Her laughter broke the tension and she spoke
softly. “I wasn’t really looking for you when I stumbled on your
campfire, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She glanced over
her shoulder at the shadows, toward the sea. “But I saw her skiff
come in, and I knew if she found out I rescued you, she’d chain me
up and enslave me. She’d strip me of my powers like she does the
wizards.” She gave Ivar a pathetic glance but he hesitated to give
her the sympathy she seemed to be asking for. “And yes, I’m not a
statue anymore, but I would like to know who cast a spell on me. It
couldn’t have been you; you were nothing but a pile of flotsam when
I laid you on the beach. What happened?”

“You don’t know?”

“How could I? I was frozen. But I do know
that only wizards have the ability to freeze people.” The golden
light from the fire lit her eyes, her hair, and her cheekbones as
she tossed her head. “I know you’re not a wizard. Who were you
with? What old man?”

Ivar swallowed, not sure he wanted to give
Silvio’s identity away.

“You’re afraid to tell me?”

“I’m not afraid.” He smiled as he always did
when he was nervous. “Why should I be afraid? What can you do to
me?”

“You don’t want to know.” Her retort was
quick, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t dare me!”

He shrugged and his grin grew wider.

She snickered and looked at the flames, but
his stare remained steady. She faced him again and returned his
smile for a brief second. She had dimples.

“You’re a man, not a wizard. My power could
cremate you in a second”

“What’s stopping you?” His courage surprised
even himself. “If you want me dead, why wait?”

“I’m not so sure I want you dead.” After a
moment of exchanging glances, her brow narrowed. “You also have
power.”

Ivar held his hands out in surrender. “No.”
he said. He had no powers that he knew about. In fact, he was
pretty much devoid of anything. He had no food, no water, no shoes,
no weapon, and he wouldn’t even have a tunic if Silvio hadn’t given
him one.

“I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you.”

Ivar continue to grin. He had no idea what
she was talking about.

Then she did something that
threw him off completely. She spoke in another language.
“
Vous n'êtes pas de ce
monde.
”

Ivar’ smile disappeared, thinking she was
casting a spell he took a step backward. “What did you say?”

“
Vous n'êtes pas de ce monde.
”

He shook his head, but it
was a lie. He did know what she said.
“You
are not of this world.”
Why could he
understand her? The words felt like ice melting his insides. How
could she possibly know he’s not from this world?

Stillness was without quiet. The breakers on
the beach rumbled a constant reminder of the power of the universe.
The fog rolled over their heads, kissing their hair, leaving drops
of dew on their clothes, carrying bits and pieces of the moon’s
light as it traveled into the forest.

She whispered the foreign words again.

“Where then?” He choked on the utterance,
struggling to accept the fact that he was someone else. That he
wasn’t a Kaempern. That he had another origin, probably another
name. That the world he knew was both dying and being born at the
same time. “Then where do I come from?” he asked again, this time
so softly he wasn’t sure the words parted from his lips.

“I can’t see the answer to your question. I
can only see a curious void.”

Ivar shook his hair and combed it with his
hands, hoping he could wake himself from this illusion. He surveyed
the camp, noting Silvio’s empty bed again, this time with concern,
and a bit of heartache. “Where is Silvio?”

“Silvio?”

“My friend. Where is he?” Fear mounted in
his heart for he sensed he was now on dangerous ground. The woman
speaking a language foreign yet recognizable to him unraveled his
senses. He needed to hang on to something solid, even if it was
just an old man who seemed to care for his protection. “Did you do
something to him? Because he was sleeping right there. He wouldn’t
just up and leave me.”

Promise stepped back from the fire, but she
didn’t answer him. He paced around the campsite, walking into the
dark, and calling Silvio’s name. “You did something to him!”

“Not I.”

“Who then?”

She sighed, “Is your friend a wizard?”

His nervousness betrayed his secret.

She laughed. “You’re too honest for a devil.
Your friend is a wizard.”

“I’m not a devil,” Ivar snapped. He may not
be a Kaempern, but he wasn’t wicked.

“And look, he’s gone.” Promise nodded toward
his bed.

Ivar panicked. He may have taunted the old
man, and argued with him, but he had taken a liking to him as well.
“Where?”

She didn’t answer.

“Where did he go? Is he lost?”

She said nothing.

His heart beat harder as his imagination
soared. “Did something happen to him? Hacatine? The witch! She
followed you?”

Ivar raced for his canteen and a blanket.

“No. I don’t know,” Promise called to him as
he ran into the dark.

Slipping Away

Ivar frantically searched the beach for
footprints. He stumbled upon a row of concave imprints in the sand,
though the night shadows made it difficult to determine if they
were really tracks at all. The shallow marks led him along the
shoreline and then into the brush of weeds that met the forest.
However, the woodland floor showed no broken branches or
disturbance of any kind. If these were Silvio’s footprints at the
forest edge, then the wizard had vanished into thin air. Either
that or he had met up with someone.

Marks were everywhere in the sand behind
him, so he backtracked again to the dunes. Not a stranger to
tracking, he was, after all one of Kaempern’s best hunters. Those
were Amleth’s words. So why was finding Silvio so difficult? Did
the old wizard get captured by Hacatine?

Ivar stood still and listened, hoping to
hear breathing or some other sign that Silvio was near and alive.
Maybe the abductors merely knocked him out and left him in the
woods. From all that Silvio had told him about the sorceress queen,
that was unlikely. If Hacatine captured Silvio, she took him to her
ship.