Part 4: Chapter Three: The Spirit-Tamer Draws Blood

Chapter Three: The Spirit-Tamer Draws Blood



In the morning I return to Connor Forest. The cool of the shade feels unseasonably cold. Is it the magic spun by Solvaring, or just my nerves?



In hunting for Solvaring's fortress, I come across his constructs, the Marionasties. They are carefully crafted, deliberately silly-looking.



They press their hands together as if praying and loose bolts of wind-magic. I can dodge them easily enough, but even the bolts that land simply raise welts. They are deterrents, not killers.



It is easy to become lost in the forest, but spirits growing like luminous flowers light my path.



I encounter another spirit-construct. Frog Knights are thought-walkers like Kobolds. As far as monster-scholars know, Frog Knights are embodiments of an old joke about knighthood that has long been lost save passing mentions in old plays. They are not particularly dangerous, but three monsters at once is more than enough to wear anyone down.



The path leads me not to the fortress, but to the road out of Connor Forest; it's sealed shut from the other side. The monsters do not approach, though; I take the opportunity to rest and heal my wounds. I race off the beaten path, add another spirit to my staff, and from there find the other road.



Along the second road I encounter Man-Traps. They resemble enormous roses with glaring eyes and thorns like blood-sucking fangs. They are named for their ability to heal themselves; they can ignore most ranged weapons, forcing their victims into close range combat. Fire magic can burn them away, but my charged stave can make quick work of their roots should I wish to end the fight early.



After taking another spirit from under an arching root, I see the way into Solvaring's hideout. After resting and healing, I approach the cast-iron doors. I feel a fat hollow of fear in my chest; my staff shakes in my hand. I draw myself closer to the element of earth; one must be strong. Centered, I strike the door with my staff. It is designed to withstand the hammering of battering rams for days. At my stave's strike, the locks shatter and the doors swing open.



I see him. He knows I'm coming. How couldn't he? The door was loud enough. How stupid am I, a boy going against a grown man, a man with the power of the Earth Orb? What could...

I call his name. I condemn his crime. I raise my staff and declare I am ready to fight him to the end.



He smiles--broad, confident, ready for a challenge. "What's this?" he drawled. "What business do you have in the castle of Solvaring, the King of Beasts? Did that fool in Dondoran order you to come after me?"

I declare that King Scottfort has sent me to reclaim the Earth Orb.

"Idiocy! I stole the Earth Orb and it is all mine." He tamps the ground with his mace. "With it I'll become the ruler of Kennishire. I'll show you humans what real power is."

It is he that makes the first move.



His spell thrums at his fist, then--



A column of fire lashes out at me. I feel the heat of the scorching marrow of the earth at my back. I raise my staff and hurl bolts of wind-magic at Solvaring; he raises another magma bolt. It comes near enough that the heat of the air smashes into me like a solid thing. The game becomes one of circling Solvaring and pelting him with wind-magic.

He is a veteran magician; at first he laughs off my wind-razors. I lose track of time; near-misses are all it takes to wear me down, piece by piece. I spray him with wind-magic, remembering Gibson's warning and refusing to let him close distance.



But I grow weary. I have to stop--to bite into phials of blessed dew to restore my magic energy, to chew down consecrated bread to keep my body going. Solvaring has one weakness: earth magic cannot restore wounds, merely waylay their taking a toll on the body. Soon he stops laughing and brings his bolts in closer.

Is he even trying to hit me? It would be trivial to lance his spell through me. There would be nothing left of me, not even ashes; merely a fading memory.



I make my mistake and move too little between magic salvos. He raises his mace, leaps in the air--I rush out of the way--



And too late find he does not use his weapon as a simple bludgeon. The earth erupts and scours me. The heat only felt solid; this is a blast of sand, rock, and earth that tore and lodges in my skin. The wall fades to a cloud and the cloud dissipates. I feel sick, disjointed, barely held together; I double over, hacking up clouds of dust. Another like that and I will be at his mercy.

He looms over me. His mace is at his side. "Now, boy," he said, voice rumbling like a distant earthquake, "I ain't in the market for being a child-killer, but if you don't stop, I can't be held responsible if I should--"

I scream, twist, bring my staff around in a two-handed swing--

My staff, my phylactery, stores my magical power. As long as I endure, it shall never splinter or break. In its head is a soft-blue gem that contains my magic power, both my permanent strength of spirit and fluctuating reserves of magic energy. It is an object of sublime might, surging with the four elements. It is an extension of my soul.



It is a bludgeon without compare.

Solvaring's skull cracks like an old pot. He never finishes his sentence. He sways, falls to his right side. He drops his mace. The light leaves his eyes. Blood seeps through his headdress.

I look at my staff. His bear's-head headdress kept it clean.

Convenient.

I lay my hands against the earth and invoke a spell to clear away the soil. I pry the Earth Orb from where Solvaring buried it. At its touch the pain in my body--a distant ache already--disappears. It would be a while before I noticed I felt stronger, healthier. Now I slipped it into my pack as though I were handling an egg made from a thin sheet of gold.

I look around Solvaring's "castle." Much of what he has stolen are fine wines, good strong tools, and some dried or preserved food. I find no gold, and beyond the Earth Orb, no artifacts of great terror.

Before I leave Solvaring's hideout, I retrieve my staff from where I had laid it and take one last look at him. The blood spread from the wound and onto his face. Less than I thought he would bleed. I tear my eyes away and flee.



Monsters sense me running through the forest, but I escape each encounter. At the cusp of the forest, I reach into my pack, trying to feel around the Earth Orb, and find the Yellow Wings.



I raise them over my head; in a rush of wind and a column, I return to the front gates of Dondoran.



I slink through the streets and to the castle. The king rises from his seat, expectant. I present the Earth Orb; he gasps, and Felzen jolts. The king claps. "You have succeeded where my bravest knights have failed. It is just as the Grand Abbot foretold."

Really? I remember the Grand Abbot's hesitant goodbye; behind his sadness, was he sure I would conquer?

The king steps down and... and kneels before me. He takes one of my hands and places it atop the Earth Orb. "I hereby present you with the Earth Orb. It will help you in the search for your father and the Eltale Book. Listen carefully..." He whispered, "A hidden door behind the throne is open. You may take from it any treasures you need."

I try to protest. "Your courage must be rewarded," he says. Keep the Earth Orb? I ask. King Scottfort says, "An army could not defend the Orb, but one boy could reclaim it. There are no safer hands than yours in all the kingdom."

As I walked away, Felzen congratulated me. "Your victory was most unexpected. I never thought the magic of an apprentice could succeed where a knight's sword could not."

It wasn't a spell, or a sword, I thought. It was a staff, a stick, swung in desperation, a last resort of a boy scared of dying. I say that his knights should look into the magical arts; a word and a gesture can do things no man with a sword can dream of accomplishing. He nods, though I cannot tell if he takes the words to heart or simply absorbs them.



A spirit--transplanted, like a flower from one vase to another--is my first and obvious choice; I hold out my staff, feel the energy surge into the water element. The element of healing and life. I take what else I can--uncommon forms of magical healing--and leave the artifact weapons and armor presented in the hopes I might add to their legend.

Before I leave the castle, I see the princess again. Maid Kate doesn't mind my intrusion; the word of my murder of Solvaring has already spread on the tongues of servants and guards--some relieved, some irritated. She leaves me alone with the princess. I hear the door click behind her.



Flora smiles. "I really didn't think you could do it," she said, without a hint of shame, "but now you have our undying gratitude. Are you sure you're just a magician's apprentice? Your powers must be beyond compare."

I let my staff slip from my hands. Flora takes a step closer. "What is it? What's wrong?"

I tell her that I killed Solvaring while he stood over me, not attacking, but speaking--making an offer for my surrender. I tell her it was not a spell that felled him, but a simple blunt object to the skull. I tell her how Solvaring played with me like a mouse, hedging me in, wearing me down, refusing to slaughter me in one spell while I assailed him with the strongest magic I had against him to no avail. My powers were just enough to keep me alive.

She put her hands on my shoulders; I break down, crying, and she holds me. She's warm.

"You did what you had to," she said, as I finally gain control of myself. "If you hadn't killed him, you'd be dead. Nothing left of you. Then he'd come after us. All of Kennishire would die. Then--who knows?"

She kisses me on the forehead. "You're braver than you think. You're a hero. You're wonderful." She smiles; it is cold and maternal, as if a mother shark could smile. "And if you need anybody else killed, just ask me."

I smile, a strange feeling. The weight is not gone, but it is lessened. I ask if she's ever killed someone, if she knew she could.

"Madam Werther. Fencing practice."

An accident? Like mine?

"I thought the blade would bounce off her rib. It didn't." She glances away, sighs. "I miss the taste of her blood."

I say goodbye to her, and leave for the inn.



The next morning it seemed the whole world knew. I hesitantly set off to the palace once more, but decided against it. I'm unsure what Flora would do for a goodbye. A man congratulates me: "The robber seems to have gone away. I wondered who conquered him. Even an attack by soldiers couldn't do the job. Must be some fantastic warrior!"

The irony's no longer painful, but it's bitter like unsweetened coffee.



The bar is quite rowdy. "Hooray!" one worker says, "The robber has been defeated. My daughter is ecstatic. Isn't it great!"

Rocks turns to me from his drink and says, "A toast to the master apprentice! He has defeated the robber. I can go to work in my clay fields."

A rousing round. Then: "Hey, and a toast for Solvaring too!"

That surprises me. "Yeah!" someone else says. "Guy... dunno what came over him. But he's done a lot 'a good. We can't just drink to 'is corpse."

Rocks sips his ale thoughtfully. "Yeah. You know, he never liked the king. Never did. Started beast-keepin' without the king knowin'. Scottfort didn't want him helpin' out; monster-killers cost too much money. So Solvaring didn't work for pay. Got his title after a couple years when his census-taker pointed out that, with Solvaring on our side, we didn't ever lose a man. 'Fore then we lost... ten a good year, I think, more to maimin'. Damn those Kobolds." He took a longer drink. "Whatever he had plannin'... whatever it was, you know what? Scottfort's got his hand in it. Na' directly, I think, but he never lifted a finger to keep us alive. But Solvaring, he never got paid, never got much more 'n a title, he did. But he did more for us the last ten years 'n Scottfort ever did in twenty!" A roar of approval. "One for Solvaring! Hedon's got a new monster-killer!" A long pause for a long drink. "And for Brian, the master apprentice, who opened the doors for 'em!"

Just as loud, just as cheerful.



I left, wondering.



Before I enter the forest again I dig through my pack and find the Earth Orb. I touch it. For being the embodiment of the earth, it felt so gentle--so light. I could feel its power flow through my fingertips. As soil is the skin of the earth, so was the health-bolstering effect of the Orb its least gift. I would have to bury and guard it for weeks before I could gain further effect. Its least blessing is enough; I let the orb be and move through the forest.

The walk did me good. I returned to the gate. It opened now with a knock from my staff; beyond was a clear blue sky and a winding path through the Flats.



Whatever I must face, I know it is for the good of everyone in Celtland, perhaps for the whole world.

With a heavy heart I take to the road.

Next: The road to the sea.