The Staff of the Winds (The Wizard of South Corner Book 1) (25 page)

For the first time, Owen raised his gaze and looked directly at his sister. “But I can’t beat him, Marian. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but certainly not yet.”

“Beat him? Beat who?” Marian responded in exasperation. “Owen you’re not making any sense. Who the devil are you talking about now?”

Once again, Owen acted as if he had not heard, but then he blinked and a sad, rueful look slowly formed across his face. “The devil,” he said quietly to himself. “Yes, could be.”

“You’re right of course,” Owen finally acknowledged with a tired sigh. “I’ll just have to figure out a way. There’s too much to do and too many lives at stake to quit now. Welcome back, by the way, if I haven’t said it already. I want to hear all about what you did and what you saw, but perhaps not now. You look exhausted, and I feel even worse.

“Let’s move a little farther north—farther from those soldiers in the castle—and try to get some sleep tonight. Neither one of us is in any shape to keep watch, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want some random patrol to catch us sleeping.”

A cloud passed across Owen’s face as he thought about being caught by the strange sorcerer in his sleep, but he shook it off. He needed sleep desperately, so there was nothing for it but to take his chances and hope for the best. He had a persistent feeling that his brief experience with magic had changed him somehow, but he was not in the slightest tempted to think that he had suddenly become a wizard—a wizard strong enough to defend himself in a battle of magic.

“Go get your horse, and I’ll meet you at the edge of the woods,” Owen said tiredly.

Owen and Marian found a small clearing deep in a wood about two miles north of Carraghlaoch. They were well into a cedar forest as the light was failing, when the thick, dark trees gave way to a grove of quaking aspen which surrounded a small clearing, surprisingly with some remaining green grass, and a little spring-fed brook.  The two unsaddled and hobbled their horses, then collapsed exhausted, rolled up in their cloaks and blankets on a spot of turf that appeared softer than most in the fading light.

Marian was still worried about the state of her brother—he had not explained the dirt and blood on his face—but she was far too tired to pursue the matter that night. Almost as soon as she lay on the ground, she was asleep. Her dreams that night included moments of terrified flight, pursued over the rocky hills by a rabid and drooling squad of gorn, but fortunately those dreams were few and brief. If she dreamed of anything else, it left no memory behind.

Owen was no less exhausted than his sister, and although he retained a residual, nagging fear of the unidentified sorcerer and his vile fumes, he resolved to worry about it in the morning. There was nothing he could do about it tonight. With a last sigh, he embraced the silence to calm his nerves and slept. He dreamed that night, as all living things do, but his dreams all retained the nature of dream—he did not fly, and he did not explore dark tunnels. In one dream, he stood sadly near a black mere, on the edge of a small, cold camp in which Sarah and Emily were bound and covered by a course, wool blanket, but that dream was no more real than any other, and it was forgotten with all the rest before morning arrived.

Marian awoke first, with the sun warm on her face. It had risen well above the tops of the trees to the southeast, and made their tiny glen seem bright and friendly. The morning was cold, in keeping with the season, but the surrounding woods softened any breezes, and the fall sun still held some power in its rays. Glancing at her brother, she could see that he had rolled the other way and was still asleep. She rose quietly so as not to disturb him.

There was plenty of small dry tinder in among the surrounding aspens, so Marian cut out a square of sod, lined the hole with stones, and built a small smokeless fire.  She filled a pot from her pack with icy clear water from the brook, and put it on to heat for tea and washing.  She was more than a little gamy from her activities in recent days, and was looking forward to the feel of soap and a warm wet cloth.

While the water was heating, Marian gave each of the horses a double handful of grain, and proceeded to brush out their matted coats. A strong sense of guilt ran through her for having neglected them the night before, so she was especially industrious in this grooming. They both seemed to appreciate the attention. Owen’s mare stretched out her neck and made her lips go all funny when she scratched under her belly, and Sam edged his way in to get equal time. When she was done, their coats, already growing long for the coming winter, gleamed with the rich dappling of reds and browns characteristic of health and good treatment.

Satisfied, Marian left the horses to browse on the sparse green grass and returned her attention to the fire. She had left a collection of small branches near the heat so that they would steam off any lingering moisture and be smoke free when she added them to the fire. She broke and added a few of these, and checking found that the pot of water had warmed nicely. Marian put this off to the side, and replaced it with a smaller pot of water into which she had thrown some ground coffee. She had no way to capture the grounds, but expected that fresh coffee would taste none the worse even if she did have to strain it through her teeth to drink it.

Marian had her shirt off with her back to her brother and was working up a good lather of soap on her wash cloth when Owen rolled over and said, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a rasher of bacon and about a dozen eggs in your pack, do you? Boy, that coffee smells good. It seems like months since we last had coffee. Seems like months since we’ve last had a fire to brew it over for that matter.”

“Nope, no bacon or eggs, but I do have warm water and a bar of soap that I’m willing to share,” Marian answered with a laugh. “The smell of fresh coffee will be even better once you’ve scrubbed yourself down a bit. Frankly, big brother, you stink almost as badly as I do.”

“If you say so, little sister, from my perspective though that’s very hard to believe,” Owen responded with a grin as he rolled out of his blanket and shrugged off his cloak. “Not that I won’t mind washing off some of the dirt I’ve accumulated on this trip.”

“You’d better let me clean out those scratches on your head and put some ointment on them, too. You never did tell me how you got those.”

“I just fell and got tangled in a thorn bush,” Owen responded, a wave of sadness passing across his face. He waved a dismissive hand and continued, “Lets finish getting cleaned up, and then bring each other up to date over a cup of that coffee. I’ve learned a few things that you need to know, and I want to hear all about the movements of the gorn.”

Later, with a clean shave and a fresh shirt, Owen sat comfortably with Marian near the fire cradling tin cups of coffee that were just short of too hot to hold.  Owen was savoring the aroma and taking an occasional sip as his sister narrated the story of her ride with Jack to shadow the gorn troop that had left the castle two nights before.  Owen asked few questions as he listened to Marian.  The destination of the gorn seemed obvious, and given their numbers and the fabled nature of gorn, their intentions could not be good.  He just hoped that Jack could get to the Campbell’s in time to raise the alarm.

“So now it’s your turn,” Marian said when she had finished her narration. She had not mentioned how she had been scared when she had finally found Owen sitting with his hood up seemingly unaware and unresponsive, alone in the forest.  “What happened here while I was gone?”

Owen paused before he responded, taking a good sip of his coffee. What could he tell his sister? Somehow he didn’t think he should start with something like: “Well, I learned that there are fiery red strings that come up from the earth and spring off the end of your nose into the air, connecting you to everything nearby,” or “I met an evil sorcerer who talks to me through a veil of smelly green smoke.”

Finally Owen began, “The soldiers seem to be settling into the castle. They were out yesterday cutting down creepers and inspecting the walls. I haven’t spotted any of our people, except a few of the girls carrying water from the river. They keep them pretty well guarded, and never far from the main gate.

“The only traffic I’ve seen in the direction of the Moat was the small party of soldiers leading Sarah and Emily away. I didn’t see anyone come from the other direction, and I haven’t seen any gorn. It may be that they were all in that force that headed back toward the village, or it may be that they are using them for something else inside the castle. They weren’t part of the groups that were out working on the walls.”

Owen took another gulp of coffee, and a deep breath, “And,” he continued, “I’ve been working with the Old Wizard’s staff head.”

“What?” Marian said, startled. “Owen that’s crazy. That thing is dangerous. You’ve got to get rid of it.”

“You’re right that it’s dangerous,” Owen answered sadly, “and I’d love to just throw it away. I wish I’d never picked it up in the first place, but I can’t get rid of it now. We need its help if we’re going to rescue the others, and there’s something else that I haven’t told you.

“The night you and Jack left in pursuit of the gorn I had another dream. This time I wasn’t flying, though. This time I was in a hallway leading to an old dungeon deep under the castle. I found a secret passage, Marian, a tunnel that leads from near the dungeon out to a hidden door on the outside.  I think that it’s an old escape route.  I doubt the soldiers or the gorn could know anything about it, it’s pretty well hidden.”

“That’s great,” Marian said enthusiastically, “we can use it to get into the castle. They won’t be expecting that, and maybe we can sneak our people back out that way.”

“Yes, well there’s just one problem. I don’t know where the door on this end is. I think it’s in some trees somewhere. I was approaching it in my dream, and there were some big roots in the dirt near the door, but I got interrupted before I could open it to see where I was.”

“Interrupted? You mean when Jack and I woke you?”

“No, not exactly,” Owen said, pausing and looking his sister in the eye. “I was in the tunnel heading for the door when suddenly I was pulled away. The next thing I knew I was face-to-face with a sorcerer. He knew me Marian, he didn’t know my name or where I was, but he called me to him. He said that he met me on the bridge, which means he knew that I was in that owl. He thinks that I’m among the prisoners in the castle, and that they were going to put me in the dungeon there. He scared me, Marian. I couldn’t break away from him, and it felt as though his eyes were slowly crushing the life from me. He really scared me.”

Owen stopped, closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. His heart had started racing as he described the scene to his younger sister and relived it in his own mind.

For a long moment Marian just sat, staring, her mouth hanging open.  Finally she recovered and said to Owen, pleadingly, “That’s why we have to get rid of that staff head. Don’t you see, magic is not for the likes of us? You’re no wizard, and the longer you hold onto it the worse things become.

“Sure, sure I know,” she continued quickly waving her hand as Owen opened his mouth to interrupt, “it probably saved us back in the woods by the watchtower, but it’s having some kind of effect on you.  You’ve been changing since we left South Corner, and now you say that a sorcerer has ‘called’ you to him.  That wouldn’t have happened if not for the Old Wizard’s staff head. We’ve got to bury that thing, or better yet cast it into the river before he calls you again. Next time you may not be able to get away.”

“But don’t you see, Marian,” Owen answered sadly, “it’s too late for that. That sorcerer has already found me once, and I think that he can do it again. I don’t know if he can call me while I’m awake, but I’m defenseless in my sleep. I can’t give up the only hope I have to learn to defend myself.”

“Defend yourself? You’re just a farmer! You don’t know the first thing about magic and sorcerers! How can you possibly defend yourself? Jack and I talked this over. We decided that you’ve got to throw that thing away before it gets us all killed.”

Now it was Owen’s turn to get angry.  “So you and Jack decided.  You’ve got no idea what’s involved here, but you two
decided
.  Did you two also
decide
how we are going to free the villagers of South Corner?  Did you
decide
how I’m going to get Sarah back?  Oh, and did you
decide
what I’m going to do the next time that sorcerer has me in his clutches?

“You may be right that I don’t know the first thing about magic, but with the help of the Old Wizard’s staff head I might be able to learn, and how do you and Jack propose we defeat an enemy with sorcerers on their side if we have no way to counter their magic?

“I may just be a farmer, but I know enough not to approach a great-cat without at least a pitchfork in my hands, and if it’s a pitchfork I’m holding, I had darn well better know which is the pointy end if I don’t want to end up as that cat’s lunch.  You and Jack seem to have
decided
to throw away the nearest thing to a pitchfork we’ve got to stave off a sorcerer.  Even for a couple of farmers, I don’t think that’s any too bright, do you?”