The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare (5 page)

“Unless I mistake myself, or unless we succeed in changing the shape of what is to come, that noble line ends here. Can you turn your back on such a heritage? The life you were born to?”

Tvrdik stood very still, eyes fixed on the constellations, numb with cold or with revelations too profound to take in all at once. In a few brief hours, the life he had crafted for himself stone by stone over the course of twelve long years, had been pulled out from beneath his feet, and had crumbled to dust. Tomorrow seemed impossibly distant, foreign, inconcievable. Somewhere deep within his chest, he felt an enormous crack, so loud he was sure Xaarus and the whole world must have heard it. A sturdy wall around his heart had broken clean down the center, and something huge, warm and alive rushed through, filling him up from toe to crown with power like that of his beloved waterfall. Bone, flesh, and sinew began to vibrate with the energy coursing through him. He was the waterfall, tumbling and racing and pushing ahead on its journey. But now he was expanding joyfully – limitless, his feet rooted deep in the heart of the earth, and his head among the stars, looking out on eons of creation working itself out in time, and outside of time. All around him the scene was decked in marvelous colors, and everything was singing, dancing a stately dance that went on eternally, in perfect order. He smiled.

A flash of light shocked him back into his slim body and limited mind. Tvrdik lowered his head from its upward gaze and hugged himself tightly, as if to assure himself that he was still real and alive. He found, to his surprise, that his face was wet with tears, and for the first time in his life, he knew who he was.

He turned to face Xaarus, who waited beside him for an answer, and saw him as if for the first time. There was the face he remembered of his beloved teacher, mentor, and surrogate father. It was older, lined with pain and weariness, imperfect and vulnerable. But the eyes were eternal, wise, compassionate. Fires in them were apt to flare up in visions of great moment. Yet, there were lights in them that were personal too, shining just for him – for Tvrdik. They looked at him now with recognition, love, pride…and hope. He breathed deeply, as a great icy wall in his chest thawed and melted. He put his arm around the old man’s shoulders and turned him toward the vine-covered door.

“Come inside,” Tvrdik said, “It is cold and we must rest. You take my pallet; it is rude but not too uncomfortable. I will lay a blanket for myself by the hearth. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we have a lifetime of lessons to cover and a whole world to save.”

FOUR
Fond Farewells and First Meetings

T
VRDIK SAT ON HIS FAVORITE
flat stone, so near the waterfall it was almost under the thundering stream. Normally, in that position, a body would be soaking wet in just a few moments. But he had erected a sort of protective, invisible shield around himself which deflected the water away. It was one of a thousand simple, useful tricks he had recently learned. If there had been anyone there to notice him, they would have been at pains to recognize this young lad as the same hermit of a few short weeks ago. He had bathed, washed his clothing in the pools below, and used his sharpest knife to shave his face clean and trim the tangle of pale gold hair to a manageable shoulder-length. Tvrdik was preparing to re-enter the world from which he had retreated years ago, and he was more than a little anxious. He sat in this cherished place that had always brought him comfort and peace, and tried to summon the courage to say goodbye.

As his mind wandered ahead and back in time, the pointer finger of his right hand was absently levitating small stones from the stream’s bank, and letting them fall with a resounding
sploosh.
With every
sploosh
, a shower of spray leapt up to catch the warm afternoon sun in an explosion of tiny rainbows. The general effect was like a little symphony of sound and color, running continuously for the better part of an hour. The activity was more than play, however. Xaarus had insisted on continuous practice for Tvrdik, who hadn’t the luxury of time to hone and master his magical skills. Tvrdik had gotten used to taking every opportunity to apply his new abilities until they became second nature, and he could summon them almost in his sleep. Despite his earlier, humble self-assessment, he had proved a quick study, and quite talented. But two short weeks was hardly enough time for anyone to absorb the entire catechism of wizard lore. Two weeks! That was all they had had for training before Xaarus, as predicted, had vanished into the future.

Tvrdik had thrown himself heart and soul into his education, studying and practicing long hours as he strove to memorize countless complex formulae. When Xaarus had finally outlined the details of his grand plan, however, the younger wizard had come close to throwing up his hands and walking out again. For a moment, he had wondered if his old master had gone mad with age and care. It all seemed so impossible, so counter to all of nature, so naïve, that he could not imagine this plan ever accomplishing much of anything except to get all of its proponents killed. And yet, the more he learned, the more he studied and considered what Xaarus laid out for him, the more he understood its beauty, its inevitability, and, ultimately, its truth. Soon, he could feel its rightness in the depths of his heart, and began to develop a passionate belief in what the old wizard was trying to achieve.

Redoubling his efforts to learn as much as possible in the time he had with Master Xaarus, Tvrdik had begun to neglect simple essentials like food, sleep, chores, exercise. Even the fire on the hearth almost went out one day from lack of attention. It was after that unfortunate incident that Xaarus had come up with his remarkable shortcut which carried with it a wonderful extra bonus. Xaarus guessed that, because of their long relationship as master and student, he might be able to use that seed of familiarity to create a bond between their minds which would link them indelibly in consciousness. His first intention was to give his student a sort of window into his mind, allowing Tvrdik to pluck whole concepts, rituals, deeper understandings, and entire packages of information, straight from the old wizard’s thoughts. There were still the matters of process, practice, and integration, but the trick worked to make learning swifter and more efficient. As the two mages became accustomed to, and more adept at using this unusual telepathic link, Xaarus posed the possibility that they might be able to keep it at least partially open through time and space, so that they could stay in some contact after he had returned to the future.

“I’m sure it would work,” he exclaimed, “but mind you, I would only be present in your head. You would see and hear me because of our unique connection, but no one else would. And I couldn’t
do
anything physical – cast any spells or the like…it would take a great deal of energy to keep the lines open over that distance, too, so I would not be overseeing your every move. I could, however, be there for you at greatest need, to give guidance and support you.”

The idea was more than agreeable to Tvrdik, who was already feeling a bit overwhelmed, and still nursing so many doubts about his own quality.

“You must know how much faith I have in your ability to succeed, my son. You do not need me at every turn in the road. You are courageous, strong, bright, creative, resourceful, gifted, and above all, I know your heart. It will always lead you down the right path.” Xaarus spoke during one of their simple meals toward the end of their time together. He could sense, that, though Tvrdik was growing by leaps and bounds, the young man was still in need of a boost to his self-esteem.

“I wish I shared your confidence, Master,” Tvrdik mumbled, pushing at his food without interest, and blushing. Then he looked up and met the elder man’s steady gaze, “How will I ever convince anyone at the palace that this is the way they should go? They will think it preposterous, and label me a madman. If we are not all joined in purpose, we have no chance.”

Xaarus shrugged, “You will do what you need to do to win them over one by one. Use your intelligence, your charm, your wit – use the power of the truth. It can be an amazing tool to wash away resistance.”

The young wizard shook his head and went back to staring at his plate. The Master saw that something else was called for. Moments passed while he considered, then…

“There is someone there whom you must seek out. She, of all the court, is destined to be your most powerful ally. She will truly listen to your tale, and she is given the authority to make things happen.”

“Tell me….who is she?”

“Her name is Jorelial Rey, of an old and proud family, and now temporary guardian of the infant king.”

Tvrdik frowned, “I partly remember her…the dragon girl. She was not much more than a child when I left.”

“And not much younger than you, boy. She is young, but already saddled with grave responsibilities, and up to the challenge, I think…”

“A bit full of herself, if I recall correctly. Always riding around on that dragon, above everyone else…”

Xaarus’ tone turned harsh. “Do not judge anyone whose path you have not shared. She walks a solitary road, very different from others of her own age, growing up motherless, being prepared to inherit a position she never wished for, but which she must shoulder. And her best friend and constant companion is a creature whose enormity and fierceness isolates her from her peers. Why, she is not so very different from you.”

“I-I did not realize…I will take your counsel to heart.”

“It is most certain she is your link, comfortable as she is with both the trappings of power and the magical world. And she
is
beloved of a dragon – a rare bond indeed.”

Another pause. Tvrdik frowned again. “But how will I ever get to speak with someone of that rank? Look at me, Master. I have no money, no suitable clothes, no family or reputation to recommend me.”

Xaarus pondered for a moment, then pointed to a small stone on the ground nearby. “Fetch me that stone, will you? There’s a lad. It’s going to take every last bit of strength I have to do this, but I believe it will hold…” The old wizard palmed the rock, closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, muttering some sort of incantation. When he opened is hand, a glittering, golden object sat where the stone had been. He smiled as he handed it to his student, “I used to carry these coins in former days as a kind of calling card. I think she might remember that. If I have any influence or credibility left at court after all these years, it might give you an opening.”

Tvrdik took the coin and examined it. On one side was a profile of the familiar face before him: long hair, sharp, but kindly features, prominent nose. On the opposite face was simply etched a large “X.” The young wizard pocketed this small gift, but pressed it in his hand within the folds of cloth, endowing it with all his hopes.

As the second week of training unfolded, Xaarus began to have more of those vanishing episodes, like they had experienced on their first evening together. Each time, it seemed to take more of the master’s energy to come back, and he would need more rest to regain his strength on his return. Tvrdik fussed and worried over him, trying to make him comfortable in the rude hut, and offering whatever assistance and nurture he could. But Xaarus would always insist on getting back to work after only a brief rest. Gradually, Tvrdik could see in the older man’s face the toll their schedule was taking, and something about his teacher began to seem frail and brittle, at times almost luminous.

At noon on the fifteenth day of their reunion, taking a break from study, sitting out in the gentle sun, the two men were talking, and Tvrdik thought his master looked oddly transparent. Still, they continued. “Set your intention always for what you wish to create, Tvrdik, and stand behind it with all your passion and belief and power. In that way, you will always draw the circumstances you wish for. Allow no room for doubt, and you will be successful, and safe…”

“I do not ask for safety, Master. I believe in this cause. I know some of the dangers I will face, and I am not afraid to die.”

Xaarus laughed, and seemed to un-form with the laughter. The last words that passed his lips were, “My dear Tvrdik, you are not
supposed
to
die
; you are
supposed
to
win
!” And he was gone, dispersed on the four winds. Tvrdik sat gaping in awe and dread at the empty space before him. All afternoon he sat there motionless, waiting, hoping against hope that the old wizard would reappear just one more time. By midmorning of the next day, it became apparent that Xaarus would not be coming back. Slowly, deliberately, Tvrdik rose and began to put his house in order.

With careful deliberation, he selected a few treasured possessions and essential items which would be needed for travel: food, water, a bedroll, firestones, tools, notes, a few books, several medicinal herbs, and an assortment of other useful items. He packed them in several small pouches and one large carry-sack, then piled everything else he owned or had made neatly inside the little cottage. It was then that he had bathed, laundered his threadbare clothes, and dried them at the hearth, and taken up his best knife to trim his wild hair and to shave the unruly whiskers from his face. The knife came along. The fire had to be extinguished and tamped down, dirt spread over the last glowing coals. Then he stood in the little makeshift doorway and looked around the place. So much of his young life had been poured into this place, so much of his heart. But memories of despair and grief lived in the walls as well. He doubted he would ever see the humble little cottage again, but wanted everything to be in order just in case, or perhaps to serve some passing traveler in need. He placed the palm of his right hand on one of the stones in the nearest wall, bowed his head, and sent a message of thanks. Then he turned, without looking back, and strode out of the clearing to spend a few moments with his beloved waterfall.

Sitting now at its edge, playing with stone and light and water, the young man tried to inhale and hold within the feelings of peace and security that always came over him in the water’s presence. He would need them in the days to come. He pulled off his spectacles to wipe them clean, but fumbled and almost dropped them on the rocks below. Quick reflexes saved the day, and he let out a sigh of relief. Of all the possessions he had managed to preserve with exacting care over these long years of isolation, his glasses were the most valuable. He needed them without doubt, and they would not be easy to replace. He could conjure a pair; any apprentice wizard could transmute matter from one form to another, but those creations rarely kept their shape for very long, and no one yet could just materialize real items out of thin air. Some things were just better done the old-fashioned way. Gingerly, he placed the wire arms back on his ears and settled the bridge on his nose, giving it a little pat, as if to say,
close call, old friend, but all’s well now
. Then he uncoiled his long legs, stood up, yawned, stretched, and dissolved the magical barrier that had been keeping him dry. Putting his hand in the spray, he intoned, “Ancient, magical place, you have been my companion, my strength, and my inspiration for twelve years. The time has come for me to leave your serenity and rejoin my fellows in the world. I offer you my thanks and blessing, a wish that you will continue undisturbed in your perfection, and that I might revisit you someday, and once again enjoy your unique gifts.” Tvrdik removed his hand from the stream, shook the water from it, and with much reluctance, turned to go.

“Excuse me.”

It was a small, unfamiliar, musical trill, enough to stop him mid-step, but not enough to convince him that he had actually heard anything. It must have been the warble of a passing bird, or the song of the water on the polished stone. He took another step.

“Excuse me, Lovely Man…”

There it was again – a tiny voice speaking unmistakable words. Eyebrows raised in curiosity, Tvrdik turned back to the cataract slowly…and found himself face to face with a little blue girl. At least, that is what she most resembled. She hung suspended in the waterfall, somehow resisting its downward force, naked and blue. Or green. Or blue-green. Her hair was a profusion of frothy curls which were not quite distinguishable from the water’s foam, and her features had an otherworldly caste that seemed ageless and somehow charming: a very wide, thin-lipped mouth, a little button of a nose, and disproportionately large eyes that were long and narrow and slanted up at the outside edges with a trace of mischief. She stood, or floated, before him, no bigger than the length of his face. But some of the details of her shape were less defined, blending in and out of the moving water. Eyes wide in wonder, Tvrdik queried, “What…
who
are you?”