Dream Magic (7 page)

Ivor carried a shield, helm and a heavy maul, all sized and fitted to his body. Myrrdin
had been vaguely surprised to see this, and even more surprised that the ogre seemed trained at arms. But he did not discuss it with the beast-like child. His mind was too full of schemes of his own. He hadn’t learned that Brand himself had provided the creature with these tools of war, and he didn’t much care in any regard. The ogre wasn’t key to his plans—not yet anyway.

T
he forest was startling in its immensity. The trees here were often a thousand feet high, and the insects could be the size of a full-grown man. Often, in the lore of the River Folk, it was said the Fae were tiny. And it was true that elves were the size of human teens and the Wee Folk were generally only two or three feet in height, sometimes weighing no more than a tomcat. But here, in the dark Erm, every living thing was huge making the elves seem tiny in comparison.

Myrrdin had often thought
humanity’s legends had become confused and twisted over time in the retelling. After all, a human visitor might have been misunderstood by his fellow villagers upon returning home. Describing mushrooms used as homes and beetles the elves could ride upon may have confused the listener. They may have thought the elves were tiny—rather than everything else in the forest being gigantic.

At last, when
Myrrdin felt he’d found the deepest, dankest region of the Great Erm, a spot so far from light and fresh wind that it might as well have been in the Everdark itself, he stopped.

“Where are we?” asked a voice.

Myrrdin ponderously turned his bulk, crashing down brush with his thick rooted feet. He saw Ivor there, and stared for a moment.

“Ah yes,” he said. “You’
re still following me—I’d forgotten.”

“Was that not your wish, uncle? Because I’m sure I can’t go home again. I’m well and truly lost.”

Myrrdin gazed down at the dumb beast that was his half-breed nephew. The other gazed back with a comically long face. He was sad and lost out here in the dark pit of the Erm.

Myrrdin felt an urge to lift a
root and stomp the beast down, smooshing him flat. But the moment passed. He’d almost forgotten about the idiot in his haste to get away, but he told himself the creature could still be useful.

“Yes,” Myrrdin said at last. “This is the spot I was hoping to find. You see here? That is a headwater.”

“A what? That’s a spring. The water will be sweet here.”

The ogre rushed to the spring and dipped his head into it to drink.

A feral rumble came from Myrrdin. He slashed out with an eight-fingered hand of wood. Like a claw, the oak branch struck Ivor and sent him tumbling.

“Don’t foul the water, you fool!” Myrrdin said. “The elves will be tracking us. They will catch that scent in an instant.
Worse, you’ll make the water taste like a swamp for a dozen leagues downstream!”

Ivor rolled until he came up against a thick vine that encircled a boulder like a constricting snake. His head cracked into the rock—but he was not seriously injured. He climbed back to his feet and shook his head, tapping at it experimentally.

“You’re stronger than me, uncle.”

“Of course I am. My body isn’t made of flesh, bone and muscle. Wood is stronger than any of those! That’s why
fools make clubs from oak, so they can better beat one another into paste.”

“Who?” Ivor asked in confusion. He had one hand at the back of his head, rubbing at a sore spot.

“Never mind! I’m going to attempt a ritual now, and I don’t want to be disturbed. But, if some kind of danger comes, you are to warn me. Do you understand?”

Ivor massaged the back of his lumpy head. “Uh…
maybe.”

Myrrdin doubted the wisdom of bringing this
beast with him.

“Let me explain,” he snapped.
“I will be distracted as I work. You must serve as my watchdog. If something approaches that might harm either of us, interrupt me. Otherwise, leave me alone until I’m finished.”

“Okay. How long will that be? I’m hungry.”

Myrrdin raised a heavy claw-shaped branch, thinking to clout Ivor again. Ivor scuttled away.

“I’ll go find something to eat,” the ogre said. “
If I see danger, I’ll return.”

Myrrdin grumbled, but let him go. He would probably be useless in any case.
He’d probably been the fool thinking he could get useful service out of an ogre.

Now that his wits had returned to him, at least in part,
Myrrdin realized that full vengeance upon his countless enemies could not be achieved in a single stroke. He’d realized after destroying the village that he could not handle this job alone. The ogre had provided him with an idea, the germ of a plan, if nothing else.

He’d already gathered an ogre to his banner.
Ivor was a follower, and he liked that. Not only for the good it did his ego, which had been bruised badly by years spent alone in a dark pod beneath the earth, but also because it gave him hope for another possible stage, a step, on the path to vengeance. He wanted to avenge himself against everyone who had ever wronged him—at least within his own twisting mind. The list was long and impressive. 

And so he’d come here, to the deepest part of the wildest forest in all the known worlds. This was not a sunlit place full of lovely glades and dancing dryads and babbling brooks. There were no
clearings full of unicorns prancing about. No, this was a dark, dense, overgrown region full of tree trunks, vines and crawling things.

He paused to consider the spot
where he’d halted. It
was
a headwater, of that much he was certain, and there was a cliff of sorts nearby. He marched to the cliff and felt along its ridged walls, for he stood at the bottom of the wall, not the top. He frowned as he touched and tested the cliff. The strange thing was—

“This isn’t a cliff! Not at all!” he cried.

“Huh?” Ivor called back to him.

“Never mind. Stay alert.”

Myrrdin edged along the wall, feeling it. He could barely see it so low was the light down here in the depths of trees. It was not a cliff—it was the base of a tree trunk. One so great in size he could scarcely credit his senses!

He made his way, clambering over roots and probing for clues. What kind of tree could be so huge? How was it that he’d never heard of this place, or never seen it when winging above the Erm?

The base of the trunk did curve, as it must, and he eventually found himself having made his way completely around its circumference. It had to be a quarter mile around.

“Unbelievable…” he muttered.
Entombed within the body of a tree, he felt huge. But in comparison to this monstrosity, he was like a sapling beside a redwood.

He took another turn around the trunk, probing high and low this time. He felt at the base of the roots and as high up as his finger-branches would reach. There at last he found a shock—a sharp, flat surface above.

He was aghast and even horrified. The tree wasn’t a tree at all. It was a
stump
. A massive, ancient stump.

The tree that had once stood here must have been the greatest living thing in all the worlds. So huge, so tremendous, that the
tallest pine in the Erm today was like a candle compared to the sun, like a breath of air to a howling wind. Like an ant at the foot of an ox.

Myrrdin stared at the ancient, thick bark, caressing it and thinking.
It crumbled in his wooden hands and flaked to dust.

H
is mind twisted as the dust trickled away from his fingers, and he began to get…ideas.

* * *

Trev had left Brand and Kaavi behind the night before. He was already far from Castle Rabing. The marsh road was muddy and ill-kept, but not even the patches of oozing bog that would have sucked the shoes from a galloping horse troubled him. He ran lightly over the muck and bounded over the worst of the thickets. Only rarely did a thorn catch his sleeve and tear it as he passed swiftly by.

He thought about Brand and Kaavi. He
would miss them as they were both part of his childhood. But he had sensed they didn’t want him around last night—and that he didn’t want to be there to witness what may transpire.

That wasn’t
the only reason he’d slipped away rudely without saying goodbye. He’d left because he’d gotten what he’d wanted from Brand: information. Brand had known nothing of importance about the missing Jewels, but he’d told him where to go next. Trev’s mind was gripped with the quest. He would go to talk to Gudrin, as she was the easier of the two wise beings to locate. Then he would find Myrrdin if he had to, even if the other had vanished from the Haven a decade ago.

He was curious about Myrrdin and how he was getting on
in the world in any case. As far as Trev knew, the old wizard was one of the few living members of the rare breed to which Trev himself belonged—half-elves. The old buzzard was, in fact, Trev’s uncle.

There were others he could speak with
such as Oberon and the White Lady—or maybe even the dragons that slumbered in the Everdark. But these individuals were all unfriendly and probably dangerous. He decided to concentrate on the two wise folk Brand had suggested first.

He ran all night and all the next day without
stopping until sundown the day after he’d left Castle Rabing. He was still in the swamps, but the Black Mountains loomed near to the south. He would reach them the following morning if he kept up this pace. After climbing to the foothills into the lands of the Kindred, he’d find Snowdon there, the greatest mountain in the range. Buried beneath Snowdon was the famed home of the Kindred known as the Earthlight. His eyes gleamed with anticipation at the idea of seeing it for the first time.

When darkness fell deep and somber, he finally stopped to rest. He wasn’t exactly
tired, but he was winded. Even Trev had his limits—he couldn’t run forever. Only a pure elf could do that, but Puck had told him they never did it because they always become distracted at some point and want to do something else.

In a relatively dry spot
, at the edge of the marshes and with the Black Mountains blotting out the sunset, Trev made camp. He built a tiny fire of twigs and grass. He fed the fire chunks of peat moss when it became big enough. The flames were reddish and smelled slightly, but they provided him warmth and comfort. He dug out the rations his Aunt Kaavi had given him and chewed.

His mind whirled with thoughts. He realized now why he’d agreed to follow the Sorceress’ whims and seek these Jewels. It was because he was bored. He was bored with the Haven, with its safety and dull, happy inhabitants. He’d always been full of wanderlust, but
traveling about pointlessly was no longer enough for him. Taking short trips to see sights only motivated a person who was easily amused. He longed for a real adventure of the sort he’d heard about all his life. Puck his father and Oberon his grandfather had both enjoyed
countless
adventures in the wilds. Although he was young, Trev figured it was about time for him to gain a few tales to tell of his own.

He was
busy romanticizing his upcoming visit to Gudrin—she would be shocked to see he’d already grown into a man—when he thought he heard an odd sound.

His eyes flicked this way and that, but his head stayed still. Often, when
one is being stalked, it was best to pretend not to be aware of the threat. Predators often charged when they knew they’d been detected. If he was going to have to run like a rabbit, he at least wanted to know which way to flee.

So his eyes traveled the scene while his body tensed, but did not otherwise move. It might be nothing. There were countless creatures that might be moving near his camp tonight, most of them harmless. But being wary tended to extend an adventurer’s lifespan, so he was very alert.

“You don’t see me, do you?” asked a voice.

Trev stopped breathing. His head came up a fraction and his legs tensed.

“Oh now, please don’t run off. I do so
hate
a long chase. I think you might be able to give me trouble before I caught you, and neither one of us wants any unpleasantness.”

Trev put his hand on his dagger hilt. It was his father’s weapon,
and it wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. The fine steel blade had a triangular shape that came to a perfect point. He drew it and put it in his lap while he gazed across his smoky fire to the spot where the voice seemed to be coming from.

“I see you now,”
Trev lied. In truth, there did seem to be a waver in the smoke that obscured the spot on the opposite side of his fire. But he could not see a figure of any kind. “Stay where you are, and identify yourself.”

There was a sudden, booming laugh that ended with a slobbering sound.

“So brave! So commanding! I must change my pants for I’ve soiled myself. Ha!”

“What do you want
, phantom?”

“Just to talk to you, son of Puck. Oh yes, I know who you are. What’s more I know of your quest. I just want to talk, that’s all.”