The House of Yeel (7 page)

“Is it a magical torch? How long does it
last?” Jymoor asked.

“It is what it is. Call it a
torch if you like, and model it as a magical one if you wish. It
depends on quite a lot. But the stone will almost certainly outlive
the stick. The wood will eventually rot unless we treat it with
certain chemicals to protect it.”

“What? The wood will rot?
Well, yes, but, I mean, how long will they glow? Not how long will
the rock and the stick last.”

“Ah, I see your thrust exactly. We were
having a semantic mishap. You want to know how long the reaction
will last. We can clear this up, I assure you. Now. Are you asking
about yours or mine?”

“Either. Both. Are they different?”

“Yours lasts as long as mine. And mine, as
long as yours,” Yeel said.

“They last the same amount
of time…but wait. Why did you ask me which one? Oh never mind. Just
how long do they last?”

“It seemed logical to charge
them to last throughout the night,” Yeel said. “True, we may not
press onward through the entire span of darkness, but it seemed
prudent to ensure that we didn’t end up in a delicate situation
with our lights suddenly failing us.”

“You are wise, Lord Yeel. Of
course, I didn’t expect otherwise.”

“Well, in that circumstance
I wonder why you asked. But in any case, communication has won the
day. We now both know. And I assume you’ve even remembered it,
judging from your previous mental acrobatics. So if I should want
to know later, presumably you would share the information back with
me? No matter, it is logical enough, and I should be able to
independently deduce my previous actions on this matter. Unless, of
course, I was to run short of necessary materials, then later
forget that fact…”

The three moved through the
trees for several more hours after sunset, guided by the glowing
orbs Yeel had put together. The dual lights cast eerie double
shadows from the twisted trees, revealing the landscape nearby in
washed-out colors. Jymoor stopped to consult a journal she had
recorded on her journey. Yeel contentedly followed her lead,
confident that his guide would find the way.

Yeel also kept talking at
length about every little thing they saw. So much so Jymoor found
herself a bit strained to listen. Yet she could say nothing to
silence the Great Yeel. She would just have to suffer his
foibles.

They came to another rocky outcropping
jutting up through the trees. The rocks formed a sheltered spot
with a dry clearing between them. The trees hugged the formations
as if trying to embrace the stone, forming a leafy ceiling to the
area.

“I found it! I spent a night
here on my journey out to the Far Coast!” Jymoor said. “I was
having trouble keeping to my old path, because I can’t see any
landmarks in the dark.”

“You slept out here? On
those rocks? I thought your culture encouraged sleeping in shelter,
inside those crude dwellings you construct,” Yeel said. “Ah, but of
course. You don’t have any means of…of course. I think now you
slept here because you had no choice!”

“Uh, yes. Well, this was the
best spot in the area. I’ve grown tired, my lord,” Jymoor said.
“Could we perhaps break camp here, and seek some rest? You must be
tired as well…or do your powers keep you strong?”

“We can rest if you wish. My, ah, powers keep
me from needing any sleep. But I comprehend your need for
recharging your mental agents. A necessary part of your biology. We
all have our natural strengths and weaknesses. Classify sleep under
the weaknesses.”

Avorn grunted. He wandered the perimeter of
the clearing, as if assessing it on his own terms.

Jymoor sat down and began to
unload her sleeping pack. “I’ll set up camp here, then,” she said.
“This little niche will make it easier to stay warm and
safe.”

Yeel watched Jymoor for a moment.

“I can understand your
desire to sleep under the stars, at peace with nature, but what of
the dangers you spoke of? Wouldn’t it be wiser to seek real shelter
for the night?”

“That would be the best
option, but we’re far from civilization,” Jymoor said. “We must
make do with what we have. I realize, my lord, that you’re probably
used to the amenities of your palace, but we will have none of that
on the hard road we travel.”

“Why’s that? We could simply
stop in at my house for the night,” Yeel suggested. “No need to
create a fire or risk the nocturnal predators. Your nose is not
producing enough mucus to protect you from the shadow scorpions you
mentioned, I feel. Of course, I’ll defer to your judgment. I’m
prepared to withstand the elements if you deem it necessary. Wait.
Is it some kind of bonding ritual?”

“What? How?” Jymoor
stammered. “We can’t head back now.”

“I couldn’t hope to achieve
great missions without the resources provided by my domicile! We
have to have food, equipment, chemical agents, and a place to
shelter. It only makes sense that we should pop back in from time
to time. I can only carry so many artifacts on my person at
once.”

Yeel reached for his belt and freed his
roveportal. Placing the device upon the ground before him, he spoke
the command word.

“Nibleetzak!”

The tiny device hummed and a
rod of light rose just higher than Yeel’s head. A two dimensional
doorway opened in thin air, displaying a view of Yeel’s water
chamber.

“Here we are! Won’t you join
me? Or did you find my guest chamber to be inadequate? I could send
some supplies out if you’d rather stay here.”

“My lord! I’d underestimated
your powers. I’d heard the stories, of course, but I never
realized. You can bring us back to your house? That’s fantastic.
Why are we traveling at all? Perhaps you should simply have used
magic to take us to my homeland!”

“Ah, well. I don’t have that
particular magic. The roveportal is a very ancient artifact that
I’ve mastered that allows me to return home from time to time, but
I can’t go just anywhere, you understand. The portal goes with me.
I have to carry it to your nation of Riken.”

“I see,” Jymoor said.

“You see? Ah, you understand. I see. Ha! A
joke! You see, I see you see! Ha!”

Jymoor nodded politely. “Very funny,” she
assured Yeel, but she did not laugh.

“That reminds me, I’ll keep
an eye on the portal while we’re gone,” Yeel said, dropping
something small on the ground. “If something comes along we’ll want
to be aware of it. Most creatures instinctively fear the portal but
you never know what awful monster might be lurking about. The Far
Coast is a dangerous place, much worse than the civilized areas you
hail from.”

“What did you drop there just now?” Jymoor
asked. She swung her light orb around, trying to get a better
look.

“It is a…I have means of
watching places. It’s a charm, a magical knickknack if you will. A
natural artifact. Intrinsic device?”

“Oh. It looks sort of like a plant seed.”

“Not really a seed, although I do grow them,”
Yeel said, holding back his amusement. “Just please remember not to
step on it. I find that most disturbing. You can remember that,
right?”

“Yes, my lord,” Jymoor said. Yeel stepped
through the glowing doorway and his light was gone. Jymoor tried to
catch a glimpse of Yeel through the shimmering image of the other
side. She caught some movement, a large shadow moving away. She saw
a flicker of green like a rope waving through the air. Then there
was nothing but the fountain.

“Are you really stepping into that?” grumbled
Avorn. The knight carried his helm tucked under his arm, shifting
from foot to foot nervously.

“Well…I suppose so,” she
said uncertainly.

Jymoor took a look around the tiny grove, and
caught sight of a discoloration of the ground. She knelt down,
holding her glowing orb close to the surface of the rocky earth.
She stood in a wide track of clear slime, barely visible, leading
through the area and to the portal.

The tracks of Yeel.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

She shrugged and went through the
gateway.

Chapter 6: The Stone Garden

I have now traveled with
the Great Yeel for six days and nights. His feats of power never
cease to amaze me. This mighty wizard commands all the elements.
Fire and light I have seen him produce upon the shortest notice.
The earth and her children shirk before him, and she weeps at his
very passage. Air is also his to command since he can fill his
palace with warm or cool breezes at a whim. Water too is his slave.
He alters the course of streams within his palace at the smallest
motion of his hand.

Yesterday as we supped in his opulent palace
in the sky, a gnarth discovered the portal of light which connects
us to the mainland and wandered through after our scent. Not only
did Yeel detect this gargantuan beast immediately with his mystical
eyes that are everywhere, he went out to do battle with the
creature side by side with the Crescent Knight. I myself confess to
no small measure of anxiety upon seeing the poisoned spines on its
tail. But Yeel stood before the thing and called forth some power
beyond understanding. Flashes of light and smoke erupted from his
outstretched arms, accompanied by a loud crash of sound. The gnarth
beast rolled its eyes in stupid terror and bolted from us in
haste.

I now know that all the old stories must be
true. The barbarian horde is vast, but I find myself beginning to
think that there is nothing that Yeel cannot accomplish.

“Are you done with your persistent memory
storage?” Yeel said, interrupting Jymoor at her writing. She looked
across the dining table at the powerful wizard, trying to decipher
his words.

“What’s that?”

“You’re engraving memories
onto that roll of fiber, are you not?” Yeel asked, pointing a thin
hand at Jymoor’s scroll.

“Oh. Yes, I have a limited amount of it but I
felt the need to record your amazing feats before I grew accustomed
to them.”

“Ah. How flattering. I wish
I could read your memories, but I don’t know your
language.”

The knight guffawed. “You’re
speaking it now. We understand you,” he said.

“Ah, that I could. My memory
isn’t up to the task of learning to speak or write or read it. We
communicate through a particular talent I have, of placing meaning
into other’s minds. Actually I’ve been speaking to you in my native
tongue all along. But still you understand and the words come to
you as a side effect.”

“A jest, my lord. Surely a jest?” Jymoor
said.

“No, it’s true. I assure
you. But we can speak more of it once we resume our journey. Will
we reach your homeland this day?”

“No, I’m afraid the forest
is vast. The Far Coast is well beyond the common knowledge of my
folk.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. But,
we’ll get there in time. Like many problems, long journeys are best
handled in small doses. Are you ready?”

“Yes, let’s get going,”
Avorn said.

Jymoor thought he sounded
sour. The Crescent Knight didn’t take well to being the second most
noteworthy hero around. He seemed to be waiting for Yeel to prove
himself still further. Or perhaps the man actually hoped that Yeel
would fail, Jymoor thought.

“Between the two of you, we
should be able to repel the barbarians,” Jymoor said, trying to
include the knight. “A powerful wizard and a mighty warrior to lead
our people. This has been a more successful quest than I could’ve
hoped for.”

The three left the kitchen
and moved through Yeel’s palace toward the portal. As usual, Yeel
seemed to linger along behind, almost as if the guests led him
through his own house.

On the other side of the portal, the sun
shone down through the leaves of great trees that surrounded them.
As usual the Crescent Knight chose to lead and started off in an
easterly direction. The man had left his helm and greaves behind in
the palace as a concession to the effort of carrying the extra
weight through the forest. Even though the beautiful armor
strengthened its bearer, Jymoor had observed that Avorn would tire
if forced to wear it all day long in the absence of the moon.

They moved along a verdant hill and crossed a
small stream by walking on the trunk of a giant tree that had
fallen over the running water. The undergrowth thinned ahead.
Jymoor kept a sharp eye out. She called a soft warning when she
spotted vague forms ahead in the trees.

“There’s someone ahead!” she
said. Avorn drew his sword, but Yeel simply continued forward.
Jymoor took a few more steps. The figures in the woods seemed very
still…

“They are stone,” Avorn announced. He lowered
his sword but kept it out as they paced closer. Soon the three
travelers stood before one of the forms and Jymoor identified it as
a solid sculpture as the knight thought.

“They’re replicas of your
race,” Yeel said. “Strange facsimiles that could hardly fool a
trained eye. Perhaps this is a religious ritual of some sort that
the locals participate in.”

“They aren’t very similar to
each other though,” Jymoor commented. She reached out and felt the
stone of the nearest icon, which had been shaped into a likeness of
a young woman. She found it incredibly soft. Warm, yielding flesh
moved under her hand.

“Argh!” she yelped. The statue before her
flickered into vivid colors, the brown of leather and the soft
tones of flesh. A sword hung at its hip.