Samual (20 page)

If she was right Sam hadn't truly noticed it. But then he hadn't been paying attention to anyone other than Ryshal ever since they'd returned.

“I have you again. More than that I do not know and I do not care.” Sam picked her up and carried her to the wagon tray where he laid her down so that she could get some more sleep. Though truthfully she didn't look as though she wanted another nap right then. Instead of lying down, Ry sat up stubbornly and looked him directly in the eyes.

“And I you, for which wonder I will spend the rest of my days thanking the Goddess. But I am telling you the truth when I say that you are welcome among our people. More than welcome. When they speak of the Fire Angel, it is you they speak of. It is a great honour. You are already seen as one of us. They think of you as our guardian. You would know that if only you raised your head once in a while to look at the people all around you. Perhaps you could even try smiling now and then.” Ry could be stern when she wanted to be, and this was apparently one of those times.

Sam knew better than to argue with her and nodded instead.

“Now go. Lest you keep the elders waiting and they grow impatient and come looking for you here!”

On cue Ry's mother appeared from the nearby river where she'd been doing the washing, and quickly went to her daughter. Sam knew she'd be well cared for while he was away, even if it was as many hours as he feared. There was something about the caravan having stopped so early in the afternoon that was suddenly bothering him. It was almost as if some very important people had decided they wanted the time free for a very special purpose. He feared that purpose had something to do with him.

Nodding his thanks to Alendro he mounted Tyla and cantered off toward the elders' wagons. They were up near the front of the caravan, a place they had to keep by virtue of their skills and importance, and as that was about a quarter of a league ahead of them he knew it would be best to hurry. They weren't a patient group.

On the way there though, he did as Ry suggested and studied some of the other elves around him.  He was surprised to see that she was right. For far from the reactions he had once got in Torin Vale when he'd first arrived, the people did seem more open to him. A few even smiled as he passed and he nodded politely back. It was a surprise. Obviously something had changed. And maybe, though he didn't like to admit it, the Elder had been right when he'd said that a part of Sam's difficulties had been of his own making.

Eventually he reached the elders' wagons. They had pulled them up in a circle and he could see the elders sitting on the wagon sides discussing the business of the day. Apparently they were having an important discussion and sitting on the grass simply wasn't appropriate for such matters. Their families on the other hand weren't so fortunate, and sat on the grass enjoying a late breakfast, while they waited for their partners to finish. Then again, the children didn't seem to mind as they laughed and ran around gaily in the sun, and no more did their parents as they watched over them.

Normally when Sam approached an elder he would have dismounted and gone to them on foot. But given that they were already raised high off the ground on the wagons, he decided that staying in the saddle was the better option. As Ry had said, he was a powerful wizard; he should hold his head high. It wasn't however, a sentiment that all of the elders seemed to agree with, and he watched a few give him disapproving stares as he remained on his horse.

There seemed to be more elders than he had seen before, and all of them were spell casters. Sam would have guessed that over thirty men and women sat on the wagon sides, waiting patiently. Clearly more had joined them from the other towns as they had travelled. And all of them were staring at him as if he were an interesting new spell to master. For the first time in weeks he felt nervous. But at least there were no priests with them.

“You sent for me Elders?” He thought it best to be polite as he bowed his head to them. It seemed he wasn't their most favourite person right then.

“Indeed we did Samual Hanor. Young Ryshal is doing well?”

“Yes Elder, she is recovering from my brother's malice even more quickly than I dared hope. The healers are doing wonderful work with her and I am deeply grateful for their care and skill.”

“As are we for yours. In these past few weeks you have saved many of our people, and given us the chance to turn a panicked stampede into a more orderly march. You have brought us wisdom and wealth as well to help us on our way. And all for no recompense.”

Elder Bela caught him somewhat off guard with his words. He hadn't known the Elder could even think that way about such things. The elves weren't exactly concerned with matters of wealth or payment. They had coin but for the most part did not use it. Property was not owned by any one person or family. People were just recognised as living in certain places. Homes were built according to need and by the town. And the basics of life such as food were free. It was only the little luxuries that coin was for. The unusual and sumptuous foods like the fruit from his trees. The more elegant clothes. The more ornate furniture. Heri would have died here!

Of course that was a difficult thing for a Fair Fielder to deal with. He never knew what to give away and what to sell, nor how much to charge. Now that Ry was back with him he planned on letting her deal with that part of life.

“None is required Elders. I am a knight of Hanor and it is my duty as well as my honour.”

“Nevertheless, we are grateful and we would show that gratitude to you in the way we best can. We offer you a gift of magic, if you would do us the honour of accepting it.”

A gift of magic? Sam had absolutely no idea what that might mean, but he knew enough to know it was obviously very important to the elves. So many elder spell casters didn't come together just to see one half elf for any small matter. Besides, he already knew he didn't want to annoy any more elders for at least a little while. They tended to be cranky.

“I would be honoured.” He bowed again.

“As would we. But first we must learn what it is we can give you.”

If anything the weight of all their eyes on him suddenly seemed to grow, and Sam felt himself being pressed down like a mouse under their gaze. Not for the first time he wondered just what exactly he had gotten himself into.

“And now my young soldier, we shall see what we shall see.” The Elder's words were nothing if not cryptic, unless perhaps they were threatening. But before Sam could even think to ask what he meant, his world went dark. Very dark.

Caught by surprise Sam spun around in his saddle, trying to see what had happened to the light. He soon realised however, that it wasn't just the light that was gone. So was everything else. He wasn't in his world. Nor was he even on his horse. Tyla was nowhere in sight. 

It was impossible. Only a moment earlier he had been on a meandering path running through a green rolling section of the glorious country side that comprised the start of Fair Fields. Now – if the fields full of torches were any indication – he was standing in the middle of a dry and dusty flat plain. One made of loose dirt and by the looks of things, bits of ancient white bone. Here and there he could see larger pieces of bone, and skulls in the dirt. As for the sky, it was black. The sun had gone away and no moon or stars had arrived to take its place. The sight made him nervous and he felt a shiver run down his spine. What was happening?

It was night time. But darker than any true night. With no moon and no stars it was almost as though he was in some sort of giant cave. One where the only light he could see came from torches. All around as far as the eye could see were torches. Burning brands on wooden shafts standing maybe six feet high and extending for many leagues in every direction. How could that be? How could there be so many torches? If nothing else, who lit them and changed them when they burnt out?

But none of that mattered he realised suddenly when it came to him that this was a trap. He didn't understand that. The elders had said they were going to give him a gift of magic. And they hadn't seemed particularly upset with him. This time. And yet as more shivers travelled down his spine, he knew it was so.

Instinctively Sam reached for all the magic he could find nearby, and surprisingly found plenty. He could feel it in the black sky above but also in the ground under his feet. He could feel the fire flowing freely, and the living magic of the world and the creatures that lived upon it.

His feet?
Sam looked down to see that he wasn't standing as he'd thought. Instead he was sitting on the saddle of a small rock, his feet touching the ground. How had he missed that? In fact he realised suddenly as he peered through the darkness, he was sitting on the only rock in the whole damn dead desert as far as he could see.

Standing up carefully, worried that he might sink into the dust, Sam began to explore his new world. First he walked over to the nearest torch some thirty yards in front of him. The ground crunched under his feet as the hard sand crust of the desert gave way, but it held and he sank no more than an inch.  Clouds of fine dust puffed up with each step he took. That didn't bother him as much as the little particles of bone he could see in the dirt and which he knew his feet were sinking into.

Shortly he reached the torch and confirmed his worst fears as it let him see everything about the ground around it. The bones were human as he'd suspected, and by the looks of things, they were from at least half a dozen different people. But worse than that he realised they weren't all ancient, dried out bones. Some of them still had the remains of flesh on them. Dried out tendons and gristle that the scavengers had left behind.

This was a killing ground! That was the immediate thought that crossed his mind. Followed by the understanding that it was still in use. But why would the elders send him here? Was Ry wrong about them? Because despite her view that he was some sort of fire angel, the elders clearly didn't trust him that much. Still, this was a world away from not trusting him. Suddenly it seemed they had decided to get rid of him.

And it seemed they had been getting rid of problems like him for a long time.

On a hunch Sam bent down to study the crunchy sand under his feet. He scooped up a handful and let it slip through his fingers like rain. Sure enough it glittered as though it was beach sand with tiny pieces of shell mixed through. But this was no beach and mixed in with the sand was no shell. It was bone. Bone that had become almost powdered with age and dryness. This had been a killing ground for a long time. How long did it take for bone to powder? Surely hundreds, maybe thousands of years. And given its size Sam had to wonder just how many men had died here over the years. Thousands? Millions?

Could it be an underworld of some sort?  The idea struck him suddenly, and it worried him. Not least because it made sense. It would be a perfect place to send an unruly wizard. And it looked much as one did in his imagination. But where it was didn't matter as much as where he wasn't. For he was no longer with Ry. And since he didn't know how he'd gotten here, or even where here was, he had no way of getting home.

But he had more immediate problems. Because if this was an underworld then that meant that somewhere nearby there were demons.

Sam started drawing all the fire he could find as fast as he knew how. He realised it was only a matter of time until whatever had killed the others came for him. Also, if this place was truly set aside for unruly wizards, fire alone might not be enough to protect him, and so he began trying to attune himself with the land. Normally that was something he never needed to do as he was always part of it. But wherever this was, it wasn't home, and he didn't feel a part of it.

Earth magic wasn't his most powerful weapon by any stretch of the imagination, but sometimes it could be his most useful. Over the years as he'd studied the fire and ice magic for combat, he'd practised the shapes for earth magic as well, finding it an invaluable tool for crossing terrain or entering strange places. With it he could build or level walls, create passages through solid rock, reshape the land itself so that it became liquid and then reform it to trap enemies, or even alter the structure of armour or weapons to make them stronger. While it wasn't strictly a combat magic he could use it to his advantage in a fight. And he suspected he was going to need everything he had to survive whatever was coming.

Reaching out with his thoughts, Sam soon had the feel of the land flowing through his blood. It felt like a slow deep pulse, and he allowed it to fill him. After a while he felt both the slow rhythms of the earth and the furious heat of fire balanced in harmony, like a two piece orchestra. Double base and flute perhaps.