The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (6 page)

“I am Ondine. I am naiad…water fairy. My sisters and I live here, in this waterfall.”

An incredulous smile crept across the wizard’s face. “Water fairy? I didn’t realize there were any of you left. I
knew
this place was special. Well, Ondine, a pleasure to meet you face to face. I am called Tvrdik.” He gave a slight nod of his head in gentlemanly greeting. She wrinkled up her whole face in distaste.

“Teh-vur-dik” she scowled, “That is strange name. What sort of name is that?”

He shrugged, “Well, it is
my
name…”

I will call you ‘Lovely Man’. I always call you this…”

He was startled. “You know me?”

“Yes, yes, of course. You are Lovely Man who comes here many seasons ago. I watch you come and go here often.”

“Well, why haven’t you ever introduced yourself before, Ondine? I would have so loved to have gotten to know you better before it was time for me to go.”

She tilted her little head, “My sisters and I, we do as we like here. Not bother anyone – wish for no one to bother us. Ways of men strange to us, good for us to learn. We stay close, safe – watch.”

Tvrdik blushed, “Well, I hope I have been a good representative of my race. In any case,” he reassured, “none of you have anything to fear from me.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “I will keep your secret, I promise. And I am most honored that at last you chose to come out and say hello. It has been a great privilege for me to make your acquaintance, but now, I must be on my way. Be well, Ondine.” He smiled, and then turned to walk away. A cold splash hit him in the back of the head. “Owww! Why did you do that?”

“Excuse me, Lovely Man, you are leaving this place? Going away?” She was frowning now.

“Um, yes. I have work to do in a place far from here, so I must make my farewell…”

“You do not come back?”

“I wish I could say. Right now it seems I might be away for a good long time. But, if I am ever again in the neighborhood, you can trust that I will surely come to call.” He was struggling to comprehend what she might be getting at.

“Lovely Man, you will take me with you.”

“Excuse me?” Tvrdik had in no way anticipated this. “And please don’t call me that. Look, Ondine, why would I want to do that? You are perfectly happy here. Believe me, I wish I was staying too.”

“My sisters happy here. I am weary of all play. I think big things happen now in the world outside – want to see and learn. I go with you.”

“Oh, I see – an adventurous spirit. Very commendable. But I am going on a mission where there may be grave danger, and there is no way I can look after a little creature like you…”

Her face grew stormy, and she did something like stamping her foot, only underwater. Immediately, the pools became roiled, turbulent. Water bubbled up over the rock where Tvrdik stood, soaking his boots and feet. “Hey!” he yelped, dancing in place.

“Can take care of self, thank you,” she seemed to control her temper with effort, and the water receded. “I watch you many seasons. You are mage, I think. I know old magic, too. Can help…help you do mission.”

For a moment, Tvrdik considered this, thinking she could be an asset at that. But he dismissed the fleeting thought right away. It was just too uncertain ahead, too dangerous. “I’m sorry little naiad. It’s simply out of the question. I promise to come back and tell you all about it when I have finished. Farewell.” Again he turned to go. This time his entire back was slapped with a very large wave. Dripping and aggravated, he slowly turned back. But before he could chide her, she shouted at him in her piping little voice.

“Lovely Man, you owe me. I save your life. I claim my debt now. You take me with you.” She screwed up her face in a pout and thrust it straight at him, eye to eye.

Tvrdik blinked first, “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

“Long time ago, when you first come here, I watch you. You stop at our waterfall, spend long time here. You like our waters. You think to come swim here with us. I see you – I think you are very lovely man (Tvrdik winced); maybe not so bright not to think of rough waters below, hard rocks. I make waters come up high to catch you, lay you softly down on grass.” She blushed a sort of purplish shade, “I am happy you are not hurt in water here.”

Tvrdik squatted down on the flat rock, silent, as the answers to his own personal mystery were revealed at last. He kept his head lowered as the truth of what had happened those long years ago washed over him. He saw no reason to explain to this little elfin being how her version of the story was not quite the way things had gone. But it seemed he
did
owe her his life. He looked up at her, one blonde eyebrow raised behind the spectacles. “Well. It seems we
do
have a situation here. I remember that day well. I never knew how I came to that bank in safety. It appears I do owe you a debt – and my deepest gratitude.”

She nodded to him with a rather self-satisfied expression. He continued.

“But, how can I ever hope to repay your kindness now? Even if I thought it wise to let you come along – and mind you, I’m not saying I do – how could it be possible? Unless I forget my fairy lore, you cannot survive out of water.”

“You take me
in
water,” she insisted. “For travel I only need small amount – you can carry.” It was obvious she had thought this through.

“Ondine, I am sent on a difficult quest which could take us far from here. Perhaps we might not get back to this place ever again. There is danger everywhere. I might not survive to come back.”

“This is important?”

“Oh, very important. Vital, in fact.”

“I will come. Help you with important task. Save you again if danger comes near, Lovely Man.”

Tvrdik looked at the feisty little fairy, and his heart warmed with appreciation. Somebody was on his side already. That
had
to be a good omen.

“So, you are quite set on this course? There is nothing else I can say to dissuade you? Nothing else I can do to repay you?”

“I say farewell already to my sisters. I come with you.”

“To be honest, it would please me well to have some company on the road. And, as you mentioned, I do owe you. Wait here.”

She did, but poised and vigilant in case of some trickery. Tvrdik stepped into the woods a few paces and glanced around for inspiration. He found a sizeable piece of birch bark, flexible and intact, rolled it into a thick tube, and sealed the edges with sap and a bit of magic. He affixed some sturdy leaves over one end of the tube, and cast a spell that the whole contraption would not leak. Stepping back to the waterfall, he filled his makeshift cylinder with water, and offered it to her.

“This should do until we come to the first village, and can trade for something more suitable. Let me know if it is too close or uncomfortable.”

She leapt in and smiled up at him. “Good,” she nodded with enthusiasm, “I am not heavy for you?”

“No, no,” he replied, “but what should we do about sealing it so it doesn’t spill on the way? Hmmm.” He waved his hand over the open end of the bark cylinder, and sealed it shut with an energy field. Almost at once, the homemade container began to jump and vibrate. He dissolved the seal, and Ondine popped up, gasping.

“Need…air…too, Lovely Man.” she scowled at him.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize. You are the first naiad I have ever carried. And, if we are to travel together,
please
don’t call me that.” He whispered the intention for his magical seal to be porous to oxygen, but not water, and waved his hand over the open end again. This time he was met with a smiling face peering up from inside the container. Tvrdik cast about for a sturdy length of vine, cut a piece with his good knife, and affixed it to the birch bark tube. He slung the finished product across his body and around his neck, backed away from the magical falls, arranged his other pouches and carry-sack, picked up his wooden walking stick, and started down the road to meet his destiny. But, miraculously, not alone.

FIVE
At the Palace of Theriole

J
ORELIAL REY STRODE THROUGH THE
bustling inner courtyard of the palace, on her way to the formal Hall of Audience. She forced her eyes to stay trained on the goal ahead, invisible blinders shutting out everything vying for her attention on the left and on the right. Her lips were set in a grim, determined expression, and she led with the top of her head, as if she could push her way through the crowded corridors with sheer mental energy. This was her least favorite part of the day in what had become the least favorite year in her young life. Having been in council meetings all morning, and having spent the entire afternoon attending to one essential, impossible task after another, she still had at least one audience to survive before dinner. Any chance of sweet privacy was hours away under the best conditions, but she clung to the slim filament of hope that there would be time later to spend with Tashroth.

They had been together as far back as her memory could conceive, since her father had set the great green dragon as guard over the tiny infant when her mother had died. Tashroth was protector, counselor, confidante, playmate, steed, and friend to the young heir to the house of Rey. Their unusual bond was the stuff of legend in field and village. More than one hopeful suitor had been frightened off by the piercing regard of a dragon eye, or the proximity of a giant clawed foot. Tashroth himself was of an ancient and noble lineage. Among his own kind he might have been a great leader, even a king. But he had preferred a life among men, and was devoted to Rel, his beloved charge.

She thought of him now: magnificent, tall, graceful, vast wings folded neatly, or stretched in flight, his pine-green scales shimmering and shifting with opalescent lights. And from his huge, luminous eyes shone his spirit, his extraordinary compassion, and age-old wisdom. In moments of extreme anger or ecstasy, a dragon’s eyes could flash like twin torches. But all she ever saw in his regard was unconditional love and understanding, with perhaps a trace of pride.

Tash would be off now hunting, or sunning himself by the river. He never felt comfortable for long hemmed in by the palace walls, and she never felt quite herself while he was out of sight. And the recent days and weeks of scant time together probably contributed to her impatient mood as she crossed the courtyard now, where a hundred waiting petitioners would be calling out for her attention, tugging at her sleeves, wanting a piece of her. She felt for them all, she really did. Some of them had been waiting for days, and had legitimate issues and complaints she would have to deal with at some point. But she was only one person carrying a disproportionate load, and these were perilous times. Things had to be prioritized, or nothing would ever get done. If they only knew how much she longed just to climb up on Tashroth’s back and disappear into the mountains. But a Rey must shoulder his or her responsibilities, and always put the good of the kingdom first. She had been drilled in this principle since she took her very first steps.

To complete the ultra-delightful character of this particular day, the appointment she was rushing now to keep was with Lord Drogue, probably her least favorite noble in the entire catalogue. Oh, he was always polite enough to her, almost drippingly so. But there was something slimy about the man that she just did not like. Well, she had been expecting him to demand a hearing for a while now. Might as well get it over with.

“Yes, Steward, I’ll get to it as soon as I can. Send me your recommendations…”

“Lady Rey, the ambassadors from the Lake Regions beg your ear…”

“Thank you…they are already on my calendar for tomorrow…”

“My lady, I beg a moment of your time…”

“My lady, we simply
must
go over the budget…”

“…the menu…”

“…the Harbormaster needs…”

She had learned not to even check her stride as she fielded the barrage of requests and demands. Never make eye contact and never slow down – she had learned from bitter experience that each of these well-meaning petitioners would happily take an hour or two of her already over-programmed day to address their own peculiar issues, if given half the chance. However did the king and queen cope, it always seemed with such grace and generosity? Ah, but there had been two of them, and the realm had been at peace, humming along without much disruption. Things were very different now. It had been barely three months since both the beloved king and his bride had been drowned during a terrible storm at sea, on their way to visit a neighboring kingdom. The entire nation was still in shock. This king, and his father before him, had kept peace and prosperity, justice and opportunity alive for two generations, and almost no one could remember the shadows of want and war that touched earlier times. King Darian and Darian II were revered by all, and it would have been natural to assume many more years of good governance from the latter, as he had not yet reached his fortieth birthday when tragedy struck. To make matters worse, his lovely queen, warm and gracious to all her subjects, had long failed to produce an heir, until only recently. Four-year-old Darian III, the delightful, precocious apple of his parents’ eye, was now an orphan, bereft, confused, and the responsibility of Jorelial Rey.

Rel had inherited that position from her father, Gareth Rey, a wise and wonderful man who had also been taken from them a little over a year ago, after a brief but devastating illness. For centuries, the Rey family had been powerful counselors and advisors to kings, and had shouldered the responsibility of keeping monarch after monarch safe, honest, and ethically on track. Jorelial’s forebears were intelligent, fair-minded masters of diplomacy: courageous in battle, creative in peacetime, and content to be support to the Crown, rather than being ambitious of its privilege. It was a lineage of pride and pressure, and Gareth had been the priceless jewel in his family’s crest. Jorelial missed her father so on days like today, both because she knew he would have been much better equipped to handle all of the chaos of recent events, and because he was her father, whom she adored. Not having produced a male child who would inherit the Rey tradition and legacy, Gareth had reared Jorelial with equanimity as his successor. He taught her history and statecraft, made sure she was capable in the physical arts and sciences, and shaped her to understand the twists and turns inherent in human behavior. He always insisted she strive for excellence in every discipline she set her hand to. Gareth recognized in his eldest daughter the qualities of a true leader, but it was certain he had thought there would be plenty of time to develop and nurture those qualities.

He had been wrong, and with the passing of the crown to an infant, young Jorelial had found herself not only an advisor to kings, but the default government herself. So far, it was a temporary arrangement. Someone had had to step in and organize a state funeral, arrange care for a royal infant, comfort a grieving nation, and insure that all the many details of bureaucracy would continue running smoothly. Anyone else even remotely fit for the job was either too ancient, too compartmentalized, or too partisan. There was a council body in place to debate decisions of importance and tend to the myriad details of running a kingdom. It consisted of several aged ministers – well-meaning, but more concerned with their departmental details than the bigger picture – and regional representatives, who could not all be trusted not to have personal designs on an unstable throne. It made sense for a Rey, even a young Rey, of a family time-honored for wise counsel and even-handedness, to preside over the whole mess for the moment.

Very soon, the expanded gathering of council members and regional representatives would convene formally to anoint Darian III as legitimate heir to the throne. At that time, they would also elect a permanent regent who would rule in his stead, with the ministers’ help, until he reached his majority. This regent would not only be acting government for the entire kingdom, but would be largely responsible for the proper education and training of the young king, as he grew into his inheritance. Jorelial Rey considered the regent’s position to be about as attractive as a prison sentence, and dreaded the idea that she might be considered for the long-term. But her father had raised her to believe in the worth of duty and destiny, twin charioteers of the noble life, and she would give her best to whatever they brought her. A great comfort and help to her in these weighty matters was Tashroth. In his long experience, deep wisdom, and objectivity, she often found reliable guidance when the humans around failed her. Tashroth knew how to lead her to her best thought without telling her what to do. If it had not been for his magnificent presence in her life, Jorelial Rey would have felt unprepared to handle all that had fallen to her.

“Lady Rey, the blueprints for the memorial…”

“Rel! Rel, wait. Wait a minute. Wait up…”

There it was – the one voice in the crowd that she could never ignore: Delphine. Jorelial Rey stopped in mid-stride, shook her head, smiled, and turned to greet her little sister.

“Rel, where have you been? I’ve been trying to steal a moment with you for days, and I always seem to just miss you, or catch you running by.”

“So sorry, Delphine. You can’t imagine what it has been like these last few days. I barely get to eat or sleep. You know I’d have come to find you if I could have…”

“I know, Rel. I feel for you, and I don’t want to add to your burdens, but this is important.”

Jorelial looked at the earnest green eyes, the porcelain skin framed by long rivulets of hair the color of flame, and her heart melted as always.

“Sorry. What can I do for you, Sweet Pea?” she said, using her old pet name for her sister.

Delphine glanced around in horror and embarrassment, “Shhh! Please don’t call me that here, in front of everyone. Can we step over behind those columns for a bit, out of the way?”

Jorelial let herself be led aside to a quiet corner, suddenly not caring if she was late for Lord Drogue’s audience. Delphine hesitated and turned pink in a way that always made Rel laugh. “Well, what is it? Out with it. You’re making me fall off schedule.” She chuckled, feeling lighter just to be in Delphine’s presence.

“I’m sorry, Rel, but it’s just that I need to ask you…beg you… if you could just find a few minutes today to see Mark. He’s been waiting for days and days. He even got himself on a list, but he keeps getting bumped by more impressive dignitaries. At this rate, he’s afraid he’ll never get in to see you.”

Rel looked blank, “Mark. Mark… Mark the bard? Is that what this is about? Oh, Delphie, you are just too easy. I won’t be able to take you seriously at all if you let every pitiful young tradesman with an agenda persuade you to take his part.”

“But, Rel, that’s not…”

“I know you mean well, but I am dealing with matters of grave consequence here, and I can barely keep my head above water…”

“No, Rel, listen to me! It’s not what you think…” Delphine looked devastated.

“Look, if it makes you happier, dearest, you go and tell your little friend Mark that he is by all means hired for the coronation, and that we’ll go over the program closer in, OK?”

Tears formed in the corner of the younger girl’s eyes, and she stamped her foot. “Ooooh, Rel, you can be so infuriating! Of course I wouldn’t bother you with such trivia now. This is something of a …a more…personal nature…”

Rel looked puzzled, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Sister, where have you been for the last six months that you don’t know? He wants to…well,
you
know…he wants to ask you for my…my hand.”

“Your hand?”

Delphine near exploded in frustration, “To marry me, Rel. We need your permission to get married.”

As the meaning of these words found its way into Jorelial’s stunned brain, her eyes widened and her breath stopped. When she was finally able to form words, they sounded considerably like shouting. “Married! Get married? Where have I been indeed? What are you thinking? You’re only 16.”

“Seventeen, Rel, and lower your voice, please. I thought you knew – almost everyone else does. We’ve been seeing each other for a year. He would have asked sooner, but then everything happened and it seemed a bad time to bring it up. So we waited and waited, but, Rel, it’s never going to be a good time. Can’t you just talk to him?”

“Delphine, he’s older than you.
And
he’s a travelling minstrel. He doesn’t even have roots or a home. He’s not of noble birth – not that that should be the only criteria – but Father would
never
have approved.”

“Father isn’t here. You are, Rel, and you know me. I am not foolish and impulsive, am I?” Delphine’s face was red, but her lovely chin was lifted and her eyes stared into her sister’s unflinchingly. Jorelial found herself speechless, her sensible arguments beginning to evaporate beneath that gaze. She never could deny Delphine anything. But, then, it was true, the girl had never been flighty or fickle. She stared into her sister’s green eyes, trying to read their depths. The younger girl moved closer, and laid her flaming head on Jorelial’s shoulder, dropping her voice to an intimate whisper, “Rel, he’s a wonderful man – kind and smart and funny, and so very talented. And he has plans for us. You always liked him…”

“I hardly know him! Gods, Delphine, it’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, but you are still so young, and it’s been such a trying year for us all. Are you sure you know your own mind?”

“Rel, we know we belong together. We don’t want to wait forever. Who knows what challenges tomorrow might bring?”

Well, she had a point there. It was hard to imagine any future at this point that would be carefree and secure and predictable. Jorelial Rey felt herself softening. She grasped her sister by the shoulders and turned her so they were face to face once more, “You really love him that much, Sweet Pea?” The expression on Delphine’s face told her all she needed to know. She scratched her head. “Well, alright. I need time to think – it’s still a bit of a shock, you know – but I suppose I can talk to him. No guarantees, mind you, but I’ll see how he strikes me. To tell the truth, I could use a timely interruption to get rid of awful Lord Drogue. I’m late for him now. Hmmmm. Go and find Mark and tell him to come to the Hall of Audience in about half an hour. I will be most grateful for the interruption, and he may have his interview.”