Samual (24 page)

“Ah hem!”

The somewhat cranky tones of a man trying to attract his attention were what first woke Sam, and even as he heard them he realised he'd been hearing them for some time. He also realised that he knew the speaker. But he didn't really want to wake up and converse with the Elder just then. He was far too comfortable. Too happy.

Still, the Elder would not be ignored and eventually Sam knew he had no choice. The man was not going to go way. So reluctantly he opened his eyes.

He was still in the covered wagon at least. And he was grateful for that as in the back of his mind there was a dark desert full of monsters somewhere out there where he was sure he should still be. Ry lay sound asleep beside him, unaware of their guest and happy for it he guessed. Or she would be when she awoke. Then again if she had been awake she would probably have been watching and laughing, quietly, as the Elder bothered him. She loved him unconditionally but that didn't mean that she wasn't happy to take a little amusement in his misfortunes from time to time.

“Elder Bela.”

Sam greeted the Elder as he was supposed to he thought. But his thoughts were still a little groggy. And he couldn't help but wonder why it always seemed to be Elder Bela who annoyed him. Or for that matter why the Elder was in their wagon. It seemed a little improper.

“Samual Hanor. It's good to see you awake at last, though perhaps dressed would have been better.”

Really, Sam thought. He'd come and woken him up and then had the nerve to complain that he wasn't dressed! But he knew it wasn't his place to say anything. Not to an elder.

“Of course Elder.” Sam sat up and started hunting around for some clothes. If he had any. He couldn't see his clothes anywhere, and his armour was gone.

“You did well in our test Fire Angel.” Typically Master Bela showed no sign of embarrassment as he started talking. Unfortunately he also showed no sign of leaving the covered wagon, not even to let Sam dress in peace. And dressing was going to be an issue.

Sam was still annoyed at having been told that he'd lost his armour, even though it was apparently for only a few days while the smiths reworked it to make it look more elven. He knew it was a necessity if he didn't want to look like a knight of Hanor to the casual human observer. Yet still it hurt. Armour was a personal thing as much as any other set of clothes. More so. He had worn that armour since he had first reached his full growth, more than ten years earlier, and he had worn it every day for the past five years. Which was perhaps a part of the reason the elves of Torin Vale had been wary of him as Ry had pointed out. Armed strangers in town were never welcome. Still, his armour had become a part of him. Almost like a second skin. Without it he felt distinctly naked.

Meanwhile Ry, bless her, was still snoring away gently. She had the most contented look on her face. She was lucky he thought, not to know they had a visitor. But he also suspected that she would not have cared if she had. She was a true elf. While they always worked hard to show a refined and polite appearance, when things went wrong as they occasionally did, it didn't seem to trouble them. Pitiril sela. Accidents happened as they said.

Sam deciding that there was no point and even less dignity in sitting there while the Elder would in all likelihood continue lecturing him once more, crawled over Ry, and then staggered to his feet on the wagon's wooden floor. It wasn't easy since the bed was little more than a straw stuffed mattress on a creaking wooden floor while for some reason he felt kitten weak, but at least he didn't fall on his face in front of the Elder. That would have been humiliating. Not that Master Bela would have said anything. Then he grabbed a towel to cover his private parts and started hunting in earnest for some clothes.

“Master Lavellin was most pleased with your ability to draw and shape fire, and says that in only a very few years your mastery should be assured. You already have the strength, the feel and concentration of a true master, which is highly unusual for someone so young. It's only your lack of experience with some of the other shapes that lets you down now.”

Sam listened with half an ear as he concentrated on finding something to wear. Eventually he spied one of the elves' favoured white robes hanging over the side rail and hurriedly started putting it on. But being a robe made for an elf it didn't fit well. Though he might be much the same height as the typical elf at around six foot or so, he was far from the same shape. Thinned down as much as he was from a good diet and regular training, his shoulders, chest and hips were still simply too large for the robe, and he heard what sounded suspiciously like stitches bursting as he struggled into it. Then having finally got it on he thought he looked rather like a sausage bursting out of its skin in the frying pan. Maybe later he hoped, he could persuade Alendro to let some of the material out for him before it ripped completely.

“Fire and ice are more than just weapons,” Elder Bela continued, apparently completely oblivious to Sam's wardrobe troubles. “They are powerful tools, and should be looked upon as such. With ice as with earth you can create bridges to carry you across ravines, walls to shelter from winds, and nets to trap fish. Also, you can cool those suffering from fevers with ice water. Fire on the other hand gives you warmth and light as well as weapons, beacons to bring others to you, heat to forge metals and warm water, and spectacular illusions to warm people's hearts.”

“Master Lavellin says to tell you that in a couple of days when you're feeling stronger, he looks forward to completing your training.”

Sam meanwhile looked forward to being able to breathe fully. The robe really was much too tight. Still, he managed to nod politely as he concentrated on thinking small thoughts. 

“Master Riven says your command of the earth magic is still only at the level of an adept, but your perfection of so many shapes speaks of much practice, which is good. If you are willing and have the time, he will be happy to show you those few shapes you have yet to learn, and to help you practice with the rest. Your strength may never be as great as that of a master, though he believes it will grow further as you learn to appreciate its wonder. There is always plenty of work for a well-trained adept in the earth magic. Your skill will be most welcome.”

Sam tried to look on attentively to Master Bela as he spoke. It was difficult though. He was already feeling drained and weak just from having stood up, and he wanted desperately to sit down before his legs gave way. He knew though that if he did the robe would surely tear in some embarrassing places. So instead, he leaned against the back wall, which was really just the back of the front seat of the wagon, and tried to look relaxed and attentive.

“Your skills in the natural magics are far less developed than the others, and yet some of the elders believe you have more promise there than you realise, myself included. Especially when you wield that magic in combination with the others. Humans often fail to see the value in the magic of the natural world, and their knowledge of it is limited, as was your library. In time you may well become an adept, and with many more shapes to learn than you yet realise exist. This too can be a powerful weapon for a soldier as well as a tool. You will be welcome to train with the other novitiates when you have the time.”

“Last and by no means least, you are an enchanter, a rare and useful talent, and as with your other gifts, this is one that cannot begin to be fully understood without much training. So far you have used it only for warfare, and as such barely begun to understand its true value. But once you have learned more of the other shapes of fire, earth and nature, you will find its value to be immense. All of us will be most pleased to aid you in discovering all of the gifts you have been given.”

For Sam that was all very interesting and welcome. He just wished he could get the Elder to leave the wagon before the robe split.

“Please tell them I would be honoured to accept any and all the training they can give me Elder.” Sam was actually grateful for the offer of training, particularly from the elves. They were far more accomplished in the magical arts than most humans, and especially those from Fair Fields. They could teach him a lot, and with the likelihood of more battles ahead if his fears were correct, he needed that learning if he was to become as powerful a soldier as he could.

But it was more than that. He also thought that undertaking their training would help him become more accepted among the elves. That was a necessity given that his wife had now returned to him and he was living among the elves. Ry would expect it of him. For years he had lived beside but not truly among them, as the Elder had rightfully pointed out weeks before. Now, with Ry back in his life and the possibility of a family one day, he had to find a place among them, because he knew he would not be leaving. He would never take Ry away from the comfort and safety of her kith and kin again.

“I will if you insist young Samual, but I think it might be better coming from you. The Masters have after all been quite patiently waiting for you this last half hour or so.” Caught by surprise, Sam lowered one of the canvas flaps on the side, and peered out. Sure enough half a dozen elders were sitting just outside the wagon on a fallen tree, quietly chatting among themselves and drinking tea while they waited for him to get up and join them. He groaned quietly.

“Perhaps though it might be best if you wore your own robe instead of your wife's. It looks a little tight.” The Elder pointed to another white robe that had been lying on the bed before he turned and stepped off the back of the wagon.

Sam stared in horror at the guilty artefact which had been right in front of his nose all the time. He had the strangest feeling Master Bela was smiling for the first time as he left. All but laughing in fact.

“Another few moments' patience Elder!”

Sam called out after the Elder's rapidly disappearing back, and for a response got merely a wave of the arm. But it was enough, as he hurriedly tried to squirm his way out of one robe and into his own one. He guessed he would have a little time at least. The elders like every other elf in the caravan, had been taking things slowly these past few days.

After the mad rush from Shavarra had ended with the defeat of the second wave of the rats, progress had slowed considerably as the scouts continued to report no new enemies giving chase. And it had slowed ever more as the caravan had grown in size. Then progress had almost stopped once they had reached Fair Fields, as wagon after wagon needed food and provisions. So now they stopped every day for a few hours while traders from all over the realm came visiting. Apparently the word of the elves' plight, and more importantly their coin, had spread fast.

Thus far prices had not reached the level of highway robbery, though from what Ry had told him, they were higher than he was used to. That was only because the goods they were seeking were still in plentiful supply, even for a caravan of such size, and because they were passing through some of the best farming land in any realm. The war masters had already purchased more than fifteen hundred horses, and all the food that the traders could bring, and their provisions were holding up well.

The result was that the caravan had moved into a new mode of travel. They started late each morning to allow for a good breakfast to be cooked, took a two hour lunch break during which the people engaged in trade, and then stopped well before sunset so that they could prepare the evening meal. And of course to conduct yet more trade. They were lucky to cover more than a couple of leagues a day.

As Sam could smell food cooking, he guessed that it must be just on dinner time. That being the case, Sam knew the elders wouldn't be staying long. They would want to get back to their wagons to eat. But he would still have enough time to dress and try to at least appear a little respectable in this elven travesty of a costume.

Why did the elves wear these robes? What was wrong with leggings and a good vest, he asked himself as he dressed. Just as he had asked it a hundred times before. And why always white? Yes it was clean and looked neat. But what was wrong with some colour? Some Hanor blue like his armour? Of course he had no answer. Save of course the same one he had for why the priests were always around – to annoy him!

A few moments later, after having carefully tucked Ry back into bed, Sam found himself with his next challenge of the day – attempting to get off the back of the wagon. It was a task more difficult than normal as he discovered anew just how high off the ground a wagon was, and how weak he was, and he nearly collapsed in a heap at its rear even before he made it to the wagon's edge.  In his current condition he knew he couldn't jump down as he normally would. It would prove a little more exciting than he would want and he'd likely end up falling flat on his face. Instead he levered himself down by hanging on to the wagon's tray and avoided at least that embarrassment. Once down he headed on wobbly legs over to the elders. It was surprising just how weak he was, but he was determined not to show it. Ironically, if he had been wearing his armour as he'd wanted he would have done just that.