Pools of Darkness (8 page)

The cat looked at his mistress as if she had just asked for dragon steaks. His thoughts reached her again. Oh, all right, Evaine. Meat it is. I’ll do it, if you’ll stop your whining.

“My whining?” she choked. “You’re the biggest baby on four paws.” She slapped his flank lightly, then added, “Okay, Gam, see what you can find for us. I’m getting hungry. The fire should be ready when you get back.” The cat rubbed his nose against Evaine’s cheek, purring, then bounded off into the growing darkness. She heard his movements in the brush for only a few moments, then all was silent as the cat began stalking.

As she spread out her bedroll on a heap of pine needles, Evaine reflected to herself that she no longer regarded her mental conversations with Gamaliel as unusual. At first, she had felt self-conscious about conversing with an animal, especially out loud. But that was several years ago. After all they had been through together, she hardly regarded Gamaliel as an animal any more. Most wizards had familiars, but few shared such an intimate bond with them. Before Gamaliel, Evaine had traveled with a small barn owl familiar that she cared for deeply, but the relationship never developed the way this one had. She and Gamaliel complemented each other and learned from one another. They had become an indivisible team. She could never imagine life without him.

Evaine added wood to the campfire, then walked the perimeter of the clearing, sprinkling a magical powder and murmuring the words of a warding spell. A pale green glow followed her in the grass, then slowly dissipated. After the day she’d had, she wasn’t taking any chances on getting ambushed in the night. If she were with more companions, they could all take turns keeping watch, but she and the cat both needed their sleep. Gamaliel’s senses were keen, and he usually detected intruders, but there was no reason to take chances.

The sorceress sat on the bedroll and pulled out her spellbook to begin studying. Her hands slid over the green leather cover. This tome was another old friend, her most prized possession. The magic contained in its pages had seen her through some tough times and had survived all kinds of dangers, from fires to dousings of water to dragon breath. She knew of wizards whose spellbooks had been destroyed, practically stripping them of their powers. Evaine shuddered at the thought of trying to survive without hers. She was lucky to have a companion like Gam, who would stick by her no matter the danger.

Evaine sometimes considered learning more mundane methods of combat, in the event that somehow she lost her magical skills. Like most wizards, she was good with a staff and a dagger, but learning the techniques of swords and axes would mean giving up the study of magic almost entirely. And Evaine always found herself on some intellectual quest. Even if she committed herself to the study of combat, her nature would force her to return to her books in no time. Magical study was too much a part of her, as if it had been woven into her soul before she was born.

Evaine took a few deep breaths, then began to concentrate. She opened her tome and started memorizing the spells. The sorceress became lost in concentration. Years of study had allowed her to focus her mind quickly and completely.

Evaine didn’t know how much time had passed before she was startled by a sound directly in front of her. She looked up, slamming the book shut, expecting an ambush.

Two gleaming eyes stared back at her.

You really should be more careful, out here alone. What if I had been a band of orcs? The cat’s message was teasing. He was obviously pleased at startling her. If cats could laugh, this one would have been howling.

“If you had been a band of orcs, you’d either be lying on the ground looking like charcoal or you’d be running for the nearest stream. I’ve placed a ward around the perimeter of the clearing. And to answer your next question, you didn’t smell the magic because I’ve been working on a version of the spell that’s virtually undetectable, even by magical creatures like you. I see that it worked. So much for trying to outfox the fox, eh Gam?”

Gamaliel blinked at her, looking hurt, but Evaine had seen his practiced look too many times before. This cat was unique, all right. Ignoring his ploy, she changed the subject. “Let’s see what you brought us.”

The cat carried a small brown rabbit—and a gleaming silver trout that weighed close to twenty pounds. Both were held carefully in his huge mouth.

“Way to go, hunter. I see we have some variety on the menu tonight.” She took the rabbit from him and scratched his chin. Gamaliel carried the fish to the other side of the campfire.

She knew the answer to her next question before asking it, but posed it anyway. “Um, Gamaliel, do you want that cooked?” The cat didn’t respond, but he answered her by wordlessly starting on his dinner. She shrugged and turned to prepare the rabbit for the fire.

By the time supper was cleaned up, Gamaliel was already snoozing on the bedroll. Evaine rubbed him gently, coaxing him into making room for her. She had banked the fire into a heap of glowing coals that would provide heat the entire night but not enough light to give away their whereabouts. The bedroll was warm from the fire and the dozing cat. She crawled under the blankets, grateful for the comfort after her adventurous day. She would sleep soundly with her warding spell in place and the giant feline snoozing between her and the dark trees. If anything were going to attack her, it would have to get through her magical protection as well as two hundred pounds of muscle, claw, and fang.

A few stars flickered through the cloud cover. Evaine made a mental list of the work she and Gam would have ahead of them over the next few days. “Phlan. We’ll be in Phlan in a couple days, Gamaliel. Then we can find the pool of darkness and figure out how to destroy it.” She grimaced at the thought of another pool. Hunting the evil artifacts and destroying them had become her vocation, but each such endeavor came with its own anxiety.

Sleep cut her planning short. As Evaine drifted off, she murmured to the cat, “Afterward … maybe you and I can take a little vacation, away from monsters and evil pools.”

Evaine slept so soundly that she didn’t hear Gamaliel get up from the bedroll and creep into the woods at first light. He was back after only a short time, carrying another enormous fish and a fat quail. Evaine was still sound asleep, so the cat padded over to her, purring loudly in her ear. She awoke with a start, but was pleased to see her companion. Sitting up, she hugged him around the neck and got a wet face from his muzzle. He was still damp from fishing, and it was then she noticed the fish and the quail.

She laughed. “You certainly are efficient, Gamaliel. This is the closest thing to breakfast in bed that I’ve had in a long time. But I suppose we should get moving.”

Some of us are early risers, Evaine. We don’t waste the whole day sleeping late. The cat’s green eyes sparkled.

Gamaliel couldn’t resist putting on airs at every opportunity. He and his mistress both knew the sun was barely up.

Evaine was used to his attitude, and didn’t mind his feigned arrogance. “You and those green eyes. I always know what you’re up to. When you’re mad or upset, your eyes turn golden. But when you’ve just stuffed yourself with fish or had a fun romp in the woods, they’re greener than any emeralds.” After all the years she had spent with the cat, this singular feature still amazed her.

The sorceress patted the cat’s head, stretched, and crawled from her bedroll. She built up the fire, cleaned the quail, and put it over the fire to roast. Gamaliel had learned long ago that poultry cooked quickly, and he knew to hunt for it when time was short.

While the bird cooked, Evaine brushed her long hair and braided it. Then she shook out the blankets and rolled them up. Gamaliel finished his fish, then scattered their remaining firewood with his great paws. Their gear was nearly packed by the time the quail was ready to eat.

Evaine gulped her breakfast. While she cleaned up, Gamaliel amused himself by pouncing on dry leaves blown by the wind. The sorceress chuckled at his antics. She always marveled at his grace despite his huge size. And she always laughed at his playfulness. Despite his intelligence and attitude, he could romp like a kitten when he wanted to.

With their belongings packed and the campsite clean, Evaine again walked the perimeter of the clearing, this time disarming the magical ward. Always careful, the sorceress left nothing to chance. Gamaliel followed her, obliterating her footprints efficiently with his claws.

Then the pair set off in the direction of Phlan.

The forest was thick, and the only paths through the trees were those made by animals. Gamaliel led the way, finding the easiest route through the undergrowth. It was slow going. But even with the goblins and other monsters that stalked the woods, it was still safer than taking a major road. A single female traveler, even one with a big cat, was an easy mark for bandits and other troublemakers. Though Evaine could take care of herself with her magic, she didn’t wish to attract attention or tangle with the wrong enemy. She had serious business ahead, and she would need all her strength and energy for her upcoming mission.

Evaine and Gamaliel traveled until the sun reached its zenith—or what they assumed to be the sun’s zenith. The clouds that covered the countryside for months had obscured the sun, allowing only a grimy, gray light to filter through. As Gamaliel hunted, Evaine made a lunch of dried fruit and some young roots she dug in the undergrowth. They couldn’t afford to waste time. The early darkness in the evenings had already delayed them too much, since they couldn’t travel very far in one day. They rested only as long as necessary, then moved on.

As the pair trudged through the dismal woods, Evaine used the time to plan her strategy against the pool of darkness. She had already cleansed four pools over the last two years. Although these encounters gave her important knowledge about the evil magic of these waters, each pool was different. There was no guarantee that any of the cleansing rituals she knew would work on any one specific pool.

The intellectual and magical challenge of destroying these pools outweighed her fear of them. Evaine was not one for taking risks, but the sorceress fully accepted the possibility that each pool might lead to her demise. But her hatred of these foul waters ran deep, and she always took every possible precaution.

Time moved quickly for Evaine, lost in her planning. Only a few hours wore past before the sky began to darken. When it was too dark to go any farther, Gamaliel left Evaine’s side to roam ahead, looking for enough of a clearing to roll out the blankets and build a fire safely. In less than half an hour, he returned and led the way to a small, grassy patch beneath some young aspen trees.

“Great spot, Gamaliel. It even looks reasonably comfortable. I’ll start setting up, and you can look for water.” The cat rubbed against her leg, his great weight nearly knocking her off her feet, before bounding off into the trees.

The pair went about the routine of setting up camp. After Evaine studied her spells, the sorceress and her cat turned in early.

They had been fortunate not to encounter any monsters during the day. Evaine hadn’t needed any of her spells, and that meant only a short session with her spellbook that evening. She needed to wake up early in the morning to cast the magic that would help her locate the next pool. The sooner she was asleep, the better. Gamaliel had instructions to wake her before dawn. Both were sound asleep only moments after curling up.

Evaine awoke in darkness. Gamaliel was tucked in a ball at her side, the blankets tangled around him. The sorceress shivered in the chilly, damp air. Squinting through the trees, she searched for a sign of the dawn. The sky was completely dark.

Evaine shifted the sleeping cat, then burrowed into the bedroll. She dozed off snuggling against the warm feline.

The sorceress woke again after about an hour. The sky had lightened slightly. Evaine knew that dawn was not far off. She slid out of the blankets and, using dry pine branches, coaxed the coals of the campfire into a blaze. Then she crawled back into the bedroll. She had stoked up a huge blaze, the flames leaping over four feet in the air. Now she waited until the wood burned down to hot embers.

While the fire roared, Evaine closed her eyes and prepared her mind for the spell she was about to cast. It was a taxing incantation that required all her concentration and energy. She preferred casting it early in the morning, when her mind was fresh and the world was still sleepy. The energy of thousands of busy humans across the continent could sometimes interfere with this type of magic. This wasn’t a simple fireball or teleportation spell.

No, the sorceress was preparing to cast a specialized type of scrying magic that would allow her to locate the pool of darkness in Phlan. She knew of no other sorceress who was capable of casting the spell. It had taken her years of experimentation to perfect the technique. She had survived many near-disasters in the process, including losing her familiar, the barn owl. That loss and her grief had set her back several months, but this scrying spell and the missions it allowed her to complete were too important to abandon.

Evaine breathed deeply. She opened her eyes to check the fire, then returned to the process of cleansing her mind and focusing her thoughts. She began to whisper a chant that was as old as magic itself, a chant she had been taught as an apprentice. It was the first thing revealed to apprentices, to teach them to clear their minds of distraction and focus their attention. Used by a practiced, talented sorceress, the verses allowed the most powerful of magics to be summoned.

Evaine continued the chant until the fire was ready. Still murmuring the language of the chant, she arose slowly and began to rake the coals into a circle. When the embers were ready, she repeated two more verses of the chant, then cast the spell.

Gamaliel had awakened. He lay motionless, not twitching so much as a whisker. The light from the coals reflected in his green eyes. He had seen Evaine cast this spell before, and he understood the danger inherent in the amount of energy she channeled. He had once made the mistake of disturbing her during the casting of the spell. Fortunately for both of them, the error happened before Evaine had made the connection with the pool she was seeking. Had the incident occurred any later, she might have been rendered permanently insane. Only through her exceptional willpower was she able to disperse the spell’s energy and escape without harm. She lay in bed for two weeks after that incident, slipping in and out of consciousness. Gamaliel had learned a valuable lesson. Against the very nature of his feline psyche, the cat had learned self-control.