The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (46 page)

“Oh.”

While they were hard at work, and Delphine was a taskmaster that day, Lynette did come in with arms full of flowers to place around the house, and Mrs. Praeger, discovering that there was company, insisted on bringing them tea. After they had finished the exercises and were enjoying their tea, they chatted about one thing and another, and Delphine wandered into asking many questions about the healer’s art. Tvrdik was happy to answer her inquiries, but since her interest did not wane, he felt inspired to say to her, “You know, you really have a knack for this sort of thing – a wonderful mind and a real way with people – not to mention that tough streak that won’t let anyone get away with whatever is not good for them.” He cocked an eyebrow and rotated his left shoulder a few times by way of illustration. “If you were interested in learning something of the healer’s art, I could teach you a few things. I know it isn’t your first love, but some skill could come in handy. You never know.”

Delphine was exuberant. “I would
love
that. Would you really teach me? I’ve always been drawn to medicine, but here, it’s considered more of a man’s profession.”

“Nonsense! One should follow where one’s talents and inclinations lead. Are you finished with your tea? I’ll give you a sample today. Come out with me to the garden.” She followed him out to the front garden where all the herbs grew in ordered profusion. Tvrdik took her around the large plot, showing her each precious plant, explaining how to recognize it, and what its medicinal properties were. With each, he made her repeat back to him the plant’s name, its description, and uses. There were quite a few different species to deal with in Xaarus’ garden, so it was predictable that after an hour or so, Delphine finally laughed and called out, “No more, stop! My head is swimming. It can take in nothing else.”

“Oh, sorry. This is a sort of a passion of mine, and I’m afraid I get a bit carried away.”

“Don’t apologize. I loved it. I’ve learned so much today, and, despite appearances, I really think a lot of it is sticking. I just need a break.”

“Well, that’s enough for today. Come back anytime you want another lesson. In fact, Praeger asked me today if I would be willing to do some work on the town and farm folk hereabouts. If people start to show up, you could learn a lot in person on real cases. I could use an assistant…at least while Mark is away.”

“That sounds like a fine opportunity. I would love to see you in action close up, and to help out in any way I can. You must let me know if you start to get patients.”

“I will. Good gracious, what time is it? I had almost forgotten, I am supposed to meet with Ondine to go and see the Unicorns. Do you want to come?”

“Ooooh, I’d love to, but I’d better be getting back to the palace. Rel and Darian will be wondering where I’ve gotten to.”

“Well, say hello from me, and don’t be a stranger.”

“And good luck to you. It’s all beginning to come together, isn’t it, Tvrdik?”

“More quickly than I might have hoped. We still have a ways to go…”

“One step at a time. It will happen. I can feel it.”

“I hope I can trust your intuition. Will you be alright going back by yourself? Mark would never forgive me if I let something happen to you…”

“Don’t be silly. It’s a beautiful day. A walk in the gardens is good for me.”

“I give you your leave, then, Delphine. I will see you soon.”

“Thanks for the tea - and the lessons. I promise I will practice what I learned. Goodbye.” She let herself out the gate onto the Riverwalk and hurried back toward the gardens and the palace.

The Praegers had already gone to the market for supplies, so Tvrdik just left them a note, grasped his staff, closed and blessed the front door, and dashed through the gate himself, in the opposite direction, headed for his special sanctuary, where he was to meet Ondine. In only a few minutes, he was pushing through the brush, and emerging on the familiar flat rock. Throwing a pebble in the river, and whistling their special little crooked tune, he waited. In a breath, the sparkling blue figure appeared from beneath the moving stream, a petulant frown on her freckled, ageless face.

“Hurry, Lovely Man. Long journey. We may come late – not see them.” She took off, moving upstream, while he followed along as best he could along the riverbank, keeping her little blue curls in sight. Sometimes, it was a bit of a scramble through brush, thorns, and steep muddy slopes along the bank. But eventually, the river began widening, winding out of the wood and through green, grassy fields, dotted with wildflowers here and there. An occasional farm or cottage popped up on either side, but Tvrdik cast a spell of invisibility over himself and Ondine, so as not to waste time explaining himself to anyone they should run into along the way. Farmhouses began to appear with more frequency, and then they were crossing through the city, bustling with people, shopping, selling, and plying all manner of trades. Maintaining their focus, the invisible travelers moved with purpose, emerging from the city limits in record time. Residences and streets yielded to more farmland, and farmland gave way to green, rolling hills peppered with isolated copses of trees, and low bushes. It was beautiful country, and a mystery why people had not yet bent this area to their use. Perhaps they somehow sensed the faerie quality it seemed to radiate, and gave it a wide berth out of respect, or superstition.

Tvrdik lifted the invisibility charm, as Ondine slowed her pace. He hugged the riverbank now, so as not to lose her. Together they rounded a bend, defined by a dense arbor, and found themselves peering into a large, grassy area almost entirely surrounded by trees, where light and shadow played chasing games across the landscape, and the stillness was broken only by the buzzing of an occasional bee, or the flutter of butterfly wings. It was a magical place, hidden from the casual eye, removed from the main road, which at this point had left the river’s side. The Maygrew ran all along one side of the clearing, and was lost in the trees on the far side. But the naiad and mage halted at this spot and exchanged a meaningful glance. Ondine pointed, though she needn’t have, for there, clustered at the other end of this little protected clearing, stood the entire herd. Unperturbed, they grazed or stood dreaming, tails swishing. They gathered in pairs and trios to share gossip or quiet companionship. Some were perfectly white, some black as onyx, some dappled gray. Smaller than horses they were, slender, but sturdy, perfectly proportioned with flowing manes. Their cloven hooves pawed at the grass, and a shimmer of opalescent light seemed to emanate from them. And their horns spiraled from broad foreheads in polished, delicate bone, ending in wickedly sharp points; one would not want to be at the business end of those! It was impossible to keep from staring at them. Tvrdik realized he had been holding his breath as he took in the remarkable sight, and now he consciously released it in a gusty sigh, uttering the single word, “Glorious.” Ondine shook her head and put a finger to her lips, but it was too late. Across the field, they saw one of the largest unicorns, white with a yellow-gold mane, lift his head and turn to look right at them. They had been discovered.

The magnificent beast came trotting up to them across the green field, his expression unreadable. Tvrdik did not move, or flinch, or utter a sound, but kept his posture open and non-threatening. One hand was low on his staff and the other palm out, fingers unclenched. Ondine bobbed gently in the blue-green water, but her attention was fixed on the approaching unicorn. It stopped a few yards from them, and seemed to be sizing them up. In a light, but authoritative voice, it addressed them formally, “I am Wynne, leader of this herd. Who are you, and why do you trespass on our sanctuary?”

Tvrdik did not move a muscle and kept steady eye-contact with the beast, “I am called Tvrdik, and my companion there is Ondine, a water sprite. We have come here to seek you out, hoping to speak with you on matters of some importance.”

The unicorn tilted its head, “Speak now.”

So much for hospitality, Tvrdik thought. He tried to craft his argument concisely, “There is danger coming to this place about which you should know…”

“What danger?”

“Are you aware of the kingdom in which your land lies, and of those who rule it from the palace downstream?”

“We pay little attention to the affairs of men, but… yes, we are aware.”

“Those who now reign are honorable folk, who have always attempted to be fair and respectful of your rights…”

“That is a matter of opinion, but go on.”

“There is an upstart northern lord, from out of the hills, who desires to rule this kingdom himself. He is cruel and devious, and will use any means to accomplish his purpose – force, treachery, general destruction and mayhem. Everyone will suffer.”

The unicorn frowned. Several others in the distance had ceased cropping grass and were looking on in interest.

Tvrdik swallowed and continued, “There is a faction in the government who wish to defend the kingdom from this man in traditional ways, with armies and weapons. I represent another faction who would rather turn the usurpers back, but without bloodshed.”

“How is that possible?’

“We wish to use every other tool at our disposal – magic, cleverness, creativity, persuasion. But not to mortally harm anyone if we can help it. We have a source which has warned us that if we respond to the threat with violence, we will fail, and endanger our very future.”

“This ‘source’…how can they know such a thing? Is it divination?”

“Of a sort. He has travelled to the future and seen what it may be.”

“Is that possible?”

“Not usually. He is mage, and sought to learn the true nature of time. His explorations came at a very high price, but he was able to send us this warning.”

The unicorn’s eyes narrowed, “You do not speak truth. There are no more mages. Not for years.”

“I speak of one who was thought to have vanished years ago. His name is Xaarus.”

“You know Xaarus?” Wynne took a step closer. Several of the other unicorns trotted up to join their leader, eager to hear the rest of the conversation. “Xaarus was a great friend to us. We held him in high esteem, while he lived and walked among us.”

“He lives still, and sends greetings,” Tvrdik seized the opportunity to press his case. “But he sought, years ago, to travel to the future, and now cannot find a way back. I am now his hands, and feet, and voice here. He can communicate his wishes through me.”

Wynne made a snuffling, scoffing sound, “Why you, boy?”

“I am also mage. I am his pupil and apprentice.”

There was a good deal of neighing and nickering at that revelation. Neither Tvrdik, nor Ondine had yet dared so much as to shift an inch, several sharp horns pointed straight at them. Wynne now took yet another step toward them and addressed the young wizard from an uncomfortably close position. His voice was low and intense, “Can you prove to me that you are mage, or that you speak for Xaarus the wise?”

Beads of sweat collected on Tvrdik’s brow, “I may be able to prove later, to your satisfaction that I have messages from the master, but I can certainly show you right now that I am mage.” No sooner had the words left his mouth, but he banged his staff on the ground and a wall of flame sprang up between himself and the beasts. They cried out and started backwards. Immediately, he made the flames vanish.

“I am so sorry,” Tvrdik said, “I did not mean to alarm you. I was trying to think of something dramatic and impressive, and I over-reached.” He rapped the staff again on the ground, and suddenly thousands of rose petals were floating down from the sky, pink and mauve and burgundy, fragrant and delicate, drifting down on all of them and blanketing the ground. Ondine giggled.

“It is enough!” Wynne called out, and the petals disappeared. “We are satisfied that you have some skill. What do you want of us?”

Tvrdik paused, and then, his voice quietly infused with passion, he answered, “Join us. We are many and diverse: magical beasts, sprites, dragons, all of whom have much to lose if the kingdom topples. And there are many humans of good will who have also embraced our cause – bards, healers, lords and simple folk alike, and the Lady Regent herself. Our ranks are growing, but if we are to triumph over the usurper without the usual weapons of war, we need all the help we can muster. We need every mind and heart and able-bodied being who believes as we do that right should triumph over might, and that ideas are more powerful than swords and arrows.”

Wynne tossed his head and seemed to relax a tiny bit, “Well spoken, mage. And yet, what have we to do with this quarrel? We have great reason to be suspicious of mankind. Experience has taught us to stay out of the affairs of men, to keep ourselves isolated and safe while the tides of politics and war cycle by. This policy has insured our survival for thousands of years. Why should we change our ways now, young mage?”

“You may choose to continue to hide, and to ignore this latest threat. I would not blame you. But I tell you, this time, if the kingdom falls to the tyrant Drogue, you will never be safe. The land will be ravaged, fear and suspicion will reign. Violence will run rampant, and those who cherish peace and brotherhood will be silenced. It is certain that, within a generation, the whole race of unicorns will be lost forever, perished, or else fled to other worlds.”

“An extreme scenario, which serves your purpose in the telling, and yet, I sense that you believe it.” There was a pause, while Wynne appeared to be considering. Then,“Shar! Come forward,” the leader commanded, calling to one of his fellows who had remained at the far end of the field with his back turned on them all. Shar was black, and sturdy-looking. He slowly raised his head at the summons, turned and approached. But something seemed wrong. What was first noticeable was his gait as he came forward, slow and halting, one front leg partly lame and bearing the angry white mark of an old wound. As he came closer, Tvrdik saw something even more devastating – this unicorn’s horn had been broken off mere inches from his brow, leaving only a jagged, useless stump. The creature’s eyes reflected his embarrassment and misery at the loss. He stood, head low, awaiting his sovereign’s bidding. Wynne continued to address the mage, “A unicorn’s horn is his birthright, his identity, the source of much of his personal magic. Once broken or lost, it cannot be regenerated, and we mourn deeply. It is as if a part of our soul has been taken from us.