Tanis the shadow years

3
The Bargain

It was nearly morning when the fire finally burned itself out. The wood was a smoking relic, and ash swirled above the lake on desultory breezes. Clotnik lay half in and half out of the water, one leg wrapped around the stub of a branch sticking out of the log on which he was sprawled. The other leg, as well as one arm, dangled in the cold water. Tanis, who had just awakened from a short and troubled sleep, gazed at the juggler with sympathy. Clotnik looked like an abandoned child who had run out of everything, including hope. But Clotnik would be fine with a little rest. The half-elf's gaze passed to the thin, old man, propped in the crevice between the partially submerged tree trunk and one of its sturdy limbs. Tanis watched, frozen, until the man's chest rose again. He still lived, then. At least the cold water soothed the old man's badly burned skin; it was a small blessing.

Tanis pushed away the dirty surface water with a few flicks of his hand and then splashed his face. Although stiff from being in the water all night, the half-elf began to kick his legs and stroke with one arm, slowly maneuvering the log toward the shore.

He had nearly reached an open batch of land when a hoarse voice croaked, "You."

The half-elf immediately glanced at Clotnik, thinking the juggler had revived. But the dwarf snored on.

"Here," said the voice. "It's me."

Tanis adjusted his gaze to the crook of the tree limb and was surprised to see that the old man's blue eyes were open. He stopped swimming.

"Keep going," ordered the ancient one. "Get me out of this water before I shrivel up."

"You're badly burned, old one," Tanis said softly. 'The pain is going to be very bad when I lay you down on the ground."

"What do you know of pain?" the old man asked sarcastically. "Just do as I say."

Clotnik finally stirred. He lifted his arm to stretch and promptly slid off the log and into the water. Hailing for a handhold on the tree trunk, the juggler splashed and screamed for help, not realizing that he was a mere dozen yards from land.

Gliding easily through the ash covered water, Tanis grabbed Clotnik around the neck and pulled his head high above the surface of the lake. Dirty water streamed from the dwarf's brown beard. "Easy," Tanis said firmly. "You're okay. Take hold of the log," he said, gesturing with his head. "We're almost on dry ground."

"Good!" gasped Clotnik, grasping the log.

While Tanis pushed the log closer to the shoreline. Clotnik glanced over at the old one, who was smiling- or maybe grimacing. The ancient's face was badly burned. And despite the best efforts of Tanis and Clotnik, cinders had burned away portions of the old man's iron-gray hair.

"I didn't think you'd live till morning," Clotnik said solemnly.

The man's voice carried the hoarseness of pain and exhaustion. "I had no choice."

Tanis dug up their meager belongings, then took a blanket from his pack and dunked it into the lake, spreading it out on a flat piece of ground.

"Help me," Tanis said to Clotnik, indicating the old man.

Clotnik swallowed and came to stand knee-deep in the water on the other side of the ancient.

"Gently now," said Tanis.

As they lifted the old one, the stench of his dying flesh assailed them. Clotnik made a point of not looking at the poor man-at least not until they put him down. That's when the juggler saw that his own hands and arms were covered with burnt loose skin and congealed blood- and it was not his own. His stomach revolting, he shot a look at the ancient. "By Reorx!" said Clotnik. He quickly turned away from the sight, staggered a few steps away, and vomited into the lake.

"It seems I'm rather overcooked," the old one said.

"You accept your fate with surprising calm," said Tanis respectfully.

"It was my own fault," the man rejoined, blue eyes filming over with tears, doubtless from the pain of his burns.

Tanis frowned. "You can't blame yourself for not outrunning a grass fire," he said gently.

"I don't." The blue eyes cleared again and studied the half-elf. "I blame myself for starting it."

Tanis raised his eyebrows. "Why did you set it?"

"Sligs were after me," the old one explained. "Quite a lot of them, in fact. I thought the fire would stop them or kill them."

Tanis looked around. Nearby, Clotnik was recovering from his bout of nausea. Steam and smoke still rose from blackened trunks and boughs. Any animals in the area had long since disappeared. Sligs, huge, intelligent cousins of the hobgoblins, would have a hard time hiding in the lake's blaze-scarred surroundings.

"It seems to have worked," Tanife agreed. He paused, then resumed as if talking to himself. "I've never known sligs to travel in this part of the world. They must have been after something valuable." The old man averted his eyes but didn't reply, and Tanis went on. 'The fire stretched from one horizon to the other. You must have set the fire some distance from here."

The old one tried to shake his head and winced. The numbness from his overnight stay in the cold water appeared to be wearing off, and the terrible pain was only just beginning, Tanis saw. The blue eyes seemed to go out of focus again, and the man sighed and closed them.

"No," he whispered. "It was not very far away, at all. It was my magic that spread it so wide."

"You're a mage?"

"What's left of one," he replied with a dull laugh.

Something didn't add up, Tanis thought. "If you saved yourself from the sligs with magic, why didn't you cast another spell to save yourself from the fire?"

"I couldn't… "-and his voice trailed off before he visibly pulled himself together-"I couldn't cast another spell so soon after the first. My strength is not what it used to be." He shook his head, remembering. "Once the fire was started, I had no way of controlling it. I got a good head start, but when the wind changed direction and it came after me, I didn't think I'd make it."

Clotnik heard the last of this as he returned from the lake. He was pale and trembling, one hand held at his stomach as if to keep it calm, the other wrapped tightly around his chest as if to ward off a chill despite the rapidly rising sun.

"The only reason you live is Tanis," the juggler said. "He saved your life."

"I remember," whispered the pain-wracked mage. "When I saw him, at first I thought he was his father."

Tanis felt himself go lightheaded. His mind was a jumble of questions, yet he couldn't find his voice. Please, he thought, let him live long enough to tell me what he knows.

Clotnik reached out and carefully drew a waterlogged twig from the old man's grizzled hair. "You should rest," he gently advised the wizard.

The mage responded by tightening his lips. The old man must have shown a mulish streak in healthier days, Tanis thought. "You know better," the wizard objected.' "There is too little time. I must talk to the half-elf while I can."

The mage tried to turn to look at Tanis, but the effort brought him only unendurable pain. He groaned down deep in his soul as his eyes rolled up into his head.

Tanis hastened to speak. "We'll stay with you until-" The half-elf couldn't finish.

"Until I die?" the mage told Tanis through clenched teeth. "No. Not you."

Tanis did not know what to say.

"We must strike a bargain," the old mage said slowly, with increasing difficulty. "A deal. Knowledge of your father… in return for a favor."

"Of course," Tanis said without a moment's delay. 'Tell me what you want, and if I can do it, it is yours."

The blue eyes suddenly turned steely in his ash- smeared face. "I want you to find someone for me… someone who will perish without your help." He cried out the final words, and his hands shot up and grabbed Tanis's tunic. His fire-blackened fingers curled, and he used his handhold both to pull Tanis closer and to raise himself up off the ground. In a strangled voice, he exclaimed, "She must be saved! I need your word!"

"Was the woman you speak of out there on the plains with you when the fire struck?" Tanis asked in alarm, preparing to rise and search for what, at best, would be a charred corpse.

The mage shook his head, however, and pulled Tanis closer with strength born of desperation. "She's very far away," the old wizard said sadly.

Tanis eased the man back down onto the blanket. "Who is she?"

"She is Brandella," he said simply. "There is no other like her. And you must find her, save her, so that she can live on after I die."

Clotnik finally interjected, "Kishpa, you haven't explained it to him."

"Give me water," demanded the mage. Once he had sipped from Clotnik's water bag, he gave a deep sigh and continued. 'Three years ago I cast a search spell, hoping that my magic would tell me whom I should seek. My magic told me to find you, Tanthalas," he said, using Tanis's elven name. Kishpa coughed, and Clotnik offered him more water. The old wizard refused it and went on. "I have sought you ever since. My hold on you is simple. Your father came to my village ninety-eight years ago. I will lead you to him if you will give me Brandella."

The old man rested a moment, catching his breath.

Tanis was having nearly as much trouble breathing as the old mage. His father. Was it possible? Ninety-eight years were but a short time to an elf, but Tanis's father was human. He couldn't still be alive. Tanis wondered if his doubts showed in his face.

"How am I to find this woman, this Brandella?" Tanis asked hurriedly.

Kishpa's blistered lips cracked into a bleeding smile. "The same way you will find your father. You will look for both of them in my past. They live in my memory."