Wizard’s
Fire

“It’s quite simple, Master Otter, for one to create anything he likes by imagining it so hard that in truth it’s hard to tell what’s real from what’s not. You saw only what I was imagining,” said Greyfax, returning his cup to its case and placing it deep within the folds of his cloak.

“Well, it’s beyond, me, “ grumped Bear, “but that honey didn’t taste anything at all like a wisp of fancy, or any sort of imagining that I could do. “

“It was there. All I had to do was suggest it.” Greyfax stood and walked over to where Froghorn was packing their saddlebags, and the two spoke in a language Dwarf could not make out, then turned.

“Come now, friend Dwarf, how was it you left the mountain and risked die perilous crossing of Calix Stay? Surely you’re not simply out for a walk.”

I really can’t say, Master. It came over me one day as I listened to the river that flows in those deep parts where I lived long and alone. Something told me it was time to move, and it seemed that my feet rather than my sense led me here. As for die rest, I haven’t the inkling of a feather cap what to do, or where I’m to go, but I thought now, since we’ve crossed in a place known to me long ago, that I would make to my cousin’s house and seek advice there.”

Greyfax and Froghorn exchanged troubled glances, and Broco thought he saw sadness lingering there in the eyes of die two Masters.

“Dear friend Dwarf, I must, I’m afraid, be the bearer of ill ridings at the very hour that has seen fit to have us meet once more.”

Before Dwarf could think about that, Greyfax went on, his face slightly shrunken and older-looking now, the deep gray eyes darker, and seemingly tired “Not two days ago, Froghorn and I first entered this country, and found to our great dismay that all of our friends here of old have long been slain or fled away. Your cousin’s house is in ruins, the anvils stilled, and the mines filled with the dust of yean. All there is now is old Creddin, who is only waiting his time to run out so he may return to where he began. Of the facts, I know none, but from what we could make out, a great battle was waged here close to twenty years ago, in Man’s reckoning, and all your kin were slain, or taken by the darkness. We have been on the road long now, trying to see as best we can what’s to be done, and I’m sorry to report that this has been much the same in every land we’ve traveled. Wars between all kinds, famines, plagues, great fires. Evil times indeed are these.”

Dwarf coughed, got up, paced a few steps, clearing his throat loudly to cover his soft weeping at the news of the dark fate of his kin. “I’m afraid I’ve really led you both into evil fortunes, dear friends,” he spoke to Bear and Otter, who were sitting uneasily, looking from Greyfax to Froghorn, to the countryside surrounding them, as if at any minute they expected to see dark hoards sweep down upon them from the edge of the forest. “I had counted on the aid of my cousin, and perhaps to have tarried there until I could decide what further to do. Now I hear that he and his house are destroyed and in ruin, and I’ve no other plan to serve in its stead.”

Froghorn spoke now, standing and looking deeply into the fire. “Try not to be without hope or plan, friend Dwarf. As dark as it may seem now, shadows have a way of passing if one holds true.”

“He speaks wisely,” said Greyfax, “and I think the thing for you to do now is to try to make a plan that will hold you until more is brought to light. I would, in other times, counsel you to recross Calix Stay, but now it is most difficult, and I do not think the River would allow you over again. Many things have changed, and it guards its dominion ever more closely. It would be difficult even for me to venture a crossing, and I know it as well as any who have ever mastered its timeless flow.” Greyfax broke off, his eyes filling with time and dimming until he was far away, withdrawn, looking to the others as any old man, drawn and bent with age. Froghorn watched him worriedly, a frown of concern spreading across his fair features. After what seemed centuries, Greyfax spoke again. The light had returned to his face, and age and care passed, and once more he was commanding and firm in his stance, his voice bell-clear. “Friend Dwarf, I think you and your companions must find a Safe haven here, even upon this country, and stay out of reach of either men or other kind, until I return. This may be, even in its ill timing, a far better stroke than any of the wise could have struck.” He chuckled, a rippling flight of laughter, his eyes twinkling and flashing. “How well-laid plans play upon fate, like harpstring and lute. This, indeed, may have been even more than we could have ever hoped for.”

Greyfax chuckled again, sitting down by the small lap of flames, and in a thrice the bright orange and red lips of the fire had leapt up and touched the wizard’s brow, then opened in a great wave of white foam that roared like the distant Sea of Farcrossing. In it, as they all gazed upon it, great histories began repeating’ themselves in blue and green and bright white pillars of fire, huge hosts of men and elfin kind, and dwarfs and animal kingdoms that made Otter and Bear gasp, for there among them were Othlinden, king ruler of otters, and Bruinthor, great lord of bears. Then shadows passed over each, until there were many forms lying slain, and towers cast down, and the great kingdoms fell one by one into ruin and passed away slowly, sadly, on the blade smoke born of war. Otter wept openly as the animal kingdoms waxed, then waned, and flowed away across the River, past and forgotten in their glory. Bear clenched his great bear fists and gnashed his teeth in savage anger as he watched the traitorous defeat of Bruinthor, who vanished in the battle, never to appear again to living soul.

Dwarf gasped as he saw plainly before him the sit ting room of his ancient home, a room both homely and comfortable, low green chairs of ancient make that removed all weariness when you sat in them, a fire dog that spoke rhymes when asked, a pewter cop that filled itself with clear springwater, cold and pure, from the Endin River that ran deep among the dwarfhalls of old. As he watched, the music began, the songs, and his eyes widened as he saw the gray figure sitting across the years by his father, looking exactly as he did now, unchanged; then there came a small spanner into his sight, and he knew it was him self. This vision lasted long, then the flames darkened again, and a great, vile winged form swept over the light of the fire, darkening all about it and bringing | a pall even over the sunlight of the clearing where they now sat, at so great a distance in time and space, as if the presence of its evil memory yet held powers over those of the light. The animals shuddered and whined, and Dwarf covered his eyes.

When they looked again, it was gone, but it had gone deep into them, and although dismissed, was not forgotten. There were visions then of fair kings, handsome and heartening to look upon, but without all the majesty of those that were before, although they were still fairer than the fairest now. Through their hair a silver light shimmered, making their brows aflame with what appeared to be sunlight dancing on clear, untroubled water. Their queens were of such beauty the heart quailed to look upon them full, and were all come of the line of elfin elders, wise and kind. After these, another shadow fell. Otter and Bear found the visions of the fair kings and ladies disquieting, as if there was some thing there they were trying to remember, although they could not find what, and forgot once more as the darkness crossed the flames. The fire seemed to burn less fiercely now, and Dwarf saw a small, lonely figure kneeling by flowing water in a deep dwelling. He raised himself to cry out, but the picture faded and passed, and there were the three of them, trotting along through Gilden Far, by Gilden Tarn. At once, they were at Calix Stay, and passing through that roar and mighty mist again, they saw themselves land upon the far side, the World Before Time, and a great shadow again appeared. Then there was a brief flash of fire, and the three friends saw only a cold, pale light, frozen as if in some great sheet of ice. This last vision awakened a terror in them, so cold and cruel was the sight, and the sun glimmered faint and far away, and their bones turned to hardened stone, the breath left them, their eyes filled with the stillness that is death, and all thought left their numbed minds except the cold, piercing them like shafts of icy steel and holding them forever in its grim, terrible hand. Greyfax moved his eyes, and the fire billowed and raged, shot up great sparks, whir ling and spewing, and a cyclone of sun and stars whirled mightily all about them, grim white flames rode down the wind, and a towering fall of sparkling geysers erupted into bursts of gold and crimson stair ways, at the top of which stood forth a light, so terrible and white it threatened to release than from all form and substance and draw them into its brilliance forever. With another flash and roar, all was gone, and there sat Greyfax before them once more, small and drawn, smiling slightly, as an old man by a fire might smile after retelling an old but particularly good story.

Froghorn sighed and touched Greyfax lightly on the shoulder. “I guess that saves us a lot of useless words when there is no time.”

Greyfax smiled up at his friend. “No words are useless, Fairingay, except those spent in praise of foolishness.” He then turned to Dwarf. “Heed my counsel, old friend, and take up roof where you may here, but let none know of your coming, and conceal yourself well until I return.”

“When will that be, sir?” asked Otter, shaking his head and trying to get rid of the bright tower of light that still lingered in his eyes, making the sun light seem dull.

“Not long, by my reckoning. By yours, maybe something longer. My absence, unless something unforeseen occurs, shall be counted in days, I think.”

Otter was not pleased at the thought of taking tip abode in a country with no river close at hand, but resigned himself wearily. Bear merely grunted his disapproval of so unlikely a wood for housing, and set about making himself one last sandwich. As the company made ready to part, Greyfax drew Dwarf aside, and the two held a hasty conference out of earshot of the others.

“Whatever could be so interesting?” said Bear, through a mouthful of tuck.

Otter made no reply, but felt that no good would come of it, whatever it was.

Froghorn held up his hand after their own fashion in parting, and the three friends watched the two disappear into the waning sun.

“Let’s get to our own travels quickly, before it’s too dark to steer,” said Dwarf, and they turned their backs on the now fading shadows of the riders as they passed on into the forest and out of sight.

“Where shall we make for?” asked Bear, grumbling and already hungry again, his mind running over distasteful images of lying starved under a breakthorn patch. The prospects, it seemed to him, did not look very cheering, and his mind ran ahead to the morning. “Gnawing old bark, and drinking rainwater, I should say,” and after a pause, looking at a distant gray haze growing near across the horizon, “That what’s not soaked us to the bone.”

“We’ll at least stop the night with Creddin. A roof, but not much more, from what Greyfax said.”

“Better that than nothing,” chimed in Otter, looking back wistfully over his shoulder at the invisible river away beyond the forest’s end.

After an hour’s walk, they reached what was left of old Tubal Hall, its gates now broken and rusted in the fading gray light of dusk, its once wide paved road cracked with tree roots and disuse, and the many aboveground windows of the hall itself darkened and lifeless. A deep, open well lay in the courtyard, many fathoms to its near-empty bottom, and Bear, looking up at the dismal dark form of the building, knocked a rock over its edge, and it echoed hollow and distant for a long time before they heard the almost inaudible splash.

“A good thing it was a rock and not you,” scolded Dwarf. “I thought bears had night sight.”

“Enough to know a dwarf when they see one,” said Bear. “Especially one that has a wagging tongue.”

Bear had been badly frightened by his near escape.

“Stop this silly nonsense, you two,” admonished Otter, tugging Dwarf by his coat sleeve. “A light just came on there.”

At one dark end of the north side of the hall, a flickering light now glowed dimly from a lower-story window, and a creaking voice called anxiously out of the shadows, “Is that you?”

“It is I, Broco, Dwarf, lore master, cousin to the late and glorious owners of these halls, Tubal, sire, Bani, son, come to seek shelter for myself and friends, two animal lords from beyond Calix Stay.”

Darkness fell thick and heavier than before as the light was extinguished. All closed into silence. Bear’s great hackles raised, his eyes flamed, and he bared tooth and claw and began his war rumble deep in his throat.

“Here you, you lowly thief, speak out your name and business where you have none. These halls stand no dishonor, even in ruins. Come forth, or feel the wrath of Bruinlth, bear lord and stout heart,” cried Dwarf. “Speak.”

Creaking, old, and breaking, the voice called back, “If you be who you say, step forward that I may see you.”

Fearing ambush, from they knew not what, the three friends cautiously advanced. Bear was raised to his full height, and alert, expectant.

“Hold, that’s close enough,” croaked the voice. Suddenly a blaze of light drowned them, blinding their dark-seeing eyes.

“Well, upon my beard, it’s as you say.” The voice had lightened. “Come in, come in, old Creddin speaks, Cousin.” And a shuffling, knobby figure advanced out to meet them, head bowed, shaking paw and hand alike.

“I fear any who go about these parts, day or night,” he explained. “And one can never be too careful who he lets through the door. I’ve got this part of the hall bolted and airtight, so nothing save an army could batter it down once I’m locked in. Come, there’s mulberry tea and a loaf or two if you’re hungry.”

Creddin led them into his fortress, bare and stark with but a table and chair before the fireplace, but farther down the room they saw broken and tattered pieces of the old furnishings stacked neatly. The rooms were actually larger than they appeared; a doorway opened off to the right onto what turned out to be the galley where Creddin prepared his simple meals, and another door to the left stood closed. “My sleeping quarters,” he explained, bobbing back and forth, bringing up three more chairs and placing them by the fire.

They sat long, eating and talking, refilling their cups with the slightly tart mulled drink, exchanging what news they had, omitting only the part of seeing Greyfax and Froghorn, for all the three friends knew better than to speak of wizards’ journeys.

“And you, Master Otter? How come you to be traveling with my illustrious cousin?” Creddin’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, although he spoke in an oily, kind voice.

Otter, his mouth full of buttered bread, had to chew quickly before answering. “I’m not at all sure why, although it seemed the thing to do when Dwarf was talking. And then he sang that song, and it seemed as if I was remembering something. I can’t remember what, but it was beautiful, yet scary at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

“Exactly, old fellow,” agreed Bear. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say myself. It seems as if I’d been waiting across the River for something, and then you and Dwarf came by my camp, and all of a sudden here I am.”

Bear fell silent, a slightly concerned look creeping across his broad muzzle, and he repeated the last words.

“And all of a sudden here I am.”

“It goes deeper than that, I’m sure,” encouraged Creddin, refilling the tea mugs all around.

“Not really,” went on Otter. “I only know that I spent quite some time in the Meadows of the Sun. I know I have a mother and father somewhere, or many of them, but that was all long ago, and I barely recall them.”

“Crossing the River often does that, according to Greyfax,” put in Dwarf, then hastily corrected himself. “At least that’s what it says in any of the lore I ever read.”

“I guess it must,” Bear grunted. “I can’t for the life of me tell you about anything except the time I spent across the River. But those things I saw in the fire, about all those things, they made me feel all funny inside, like I was watching things happen to me in a dream.”

“That’s what I felt, Bear. Like it was me, but me a long way away,” chittered Otter.

“And you, dear Coz? These are terrible times to be out upon these roads.”

Creddin refilled their mugs as he spoke, and his old eyes glistened in the cheerful firelight.

“I’m not sure, yet I do feel as if there is a reason. It’s like trying to remember something that’s right on the tip of your tongue. It’s all right there, but it’s as far away as last spring’s pancakes.” Dwarf was feeling ill at ease as he spoke.

“Well, enough for now. Let’s have a cheery note to go on. Master Bear, how was it in the Meadows, or wherever it is you say you hail from?”

Creddin’s old hand shook nervously as he lit a blackened stump of a pipe from a blazing coal he had taken from the fire with a pair of tongs.

Bear knitted his brow, and sought to recall the place the old dwarf asked of.

“It seems I’ve forgotten much of it,” began Bear, “although it hasn’t been even a full day since we crossed.”

“Then you’ve only just crossed?” asked Creddin quickly.

“Well, so to speak. Yes and no. I mean it’s all confused.”

“It feels that way, doesn’t it, Bear?” chittered Otter, rolling his empty mug about on his smooth gray stomach. “I can hardly recall how those berries we had for breakfast tasted. But I remember perfectly well how the travel tuck tasted.”

“Travel tuck?” queried Creddin suspiciously.

“Some we’d baked for the journey,” put in Broco. “But come, tell us of how you’ve come along these past years.”

“It’s a sad lot, that tale,” croaked Creddin, “and one that hardly bears the telling.”

“Were they slain in battle?” chirruped Otter, holding his mug out to be refilled again by Bear.

“No in one case and aye in another, Master Otter. Cousin Bani was killed by the Dragon Hordes at Last Battle. Cousin Tubal lived on for a great many years, prospering in many ways, and building up a great commerce with all kind in these realms. There was lumber to be traded with Mankind, and ores to swap for the fine jewelry and cloaks from the elfin hosts who dwelled in these parts.”

Creddin’s old eyes sparkled as he spoke, and his voice grew stronger as he told of the years of plenty.

“But then began our fall,” he snapped, and the light went out in his eyes. “Dealing with men and elves soon led to trouble, and one after another, wars broke out on our boundaries. Small at first, but leading to longer sieges.”

The old dwarf banged his mug on the arm of his chair.

“And that’s what led to this,” he said in a wheezing voice, throwing his other arm wide to indicate what was left of the ruined hall. “When the darkness began to move, the end wasn’t far beyond.”

“The darkness?” echoed Bear, his heart frozen, remembering for some reason the vision in the wizard’s fire, the icy emptiness he had felt. Yet as soon as he’d thought it, the other vision of the dazzling white flame drove out the chilling memory of that vast white frozen abyss.

Creddin closed his story abruptly, and amply said he now stayed on in hopes of better days. He made no mention of how he had come to be spared while the rest perished, nor said anything of who it was he had been expecting when he first called out to them in the darkness of the courtyard.

When at last they went to the beds Creddin had prepared, Bear decided that he would pass the night on watch, although he said nothing to the others. Something, he could not say exactly what, kept making his hackles tingle, and if there was no clear, definite scent of danger, there was another, deep and disturbing, as formless as the terror they had seen in the wizard’s fire.

The night passed, and nothing happened, but toward the first gray streak of dawn, Bear thought he heard voices far off in the hall somewhere, but when he’d cleared his ears of drowsiness, all was a deep, foreboding quiet. As the sun rose, red and dim through the window of sky above him, he fell after a time into a troubled sleep, resting more easily when he at last heard Otter snort-snuffle and begin stirring about, and Dwarf clearing his throat on his way out from under his covers. When they asked if he weren’t ready for a bit of breakfast, he replied he would rather get a little more sleep, which struck them as odd, but they left him there, beginning to snore, sliding off again into the unknown dangers of his dreams.