Whispering Woods

CHAPTER 6

Gull was head and shoulders above the wizard, probably weighed half again as much. The woodcutter swung an eight-pound double-bitted axe at the run, while the wizard stood firm with only a child's rattle.

Nonetheless, it was Gull who veered off. A foot spasmed, and he slipped on damp oak leaves. He skidded on his side, dragging his axe.

Idiot, he cursed himself. To stumble in the face of an enemy.

Swearing aloud, he scrambled up and charged again. He carried his axe at the head lest he stumble again and gash himself. If he got near this wizard, he wouldn't need a weapon. He'd rip the man's throat out with his fingernails His right arm flailed on its own, suddenly cramping. Off-balance, he slid on his face, tasted leaves again.

What was wrong with him?

Neither howling nor swearing, but cold and clearheaded, he dropped the axe and tried to roll over and over. That way he couldn't fall. If he could knock the man's feet from under His thigh spasmed, a pain like muscles shearing. A knee jerk stopped his rolling.

This, he thought, was not his fault. That rattle had knocked him silly. Could he crawl, grab the man's ankle…?

As Gull lay panting, twitching, a hand graced his forehead. "Be at ease. I come in peace, to talk."

Anger dropped from Gull like water running down a drain. Maybe killing this wizard wasn't a good idea. Maybe talking was better. Maybe he could help…

Unless, a dark part of his mind warned, he'd cast another spell…

Gull dismissed that idea. He knew his own mind. He was just tired from two days of fighting and running and living and dying.

"All right," he puffed. "Talk."

When his muscles would respond, Gull climbed to his feet. The wizard tucked the "rattle" into his belt. It was turned from polished silver with furrows and knurls. The woodcutter pointed. "What is that thing?"

The wizard touched the head. "Oh, nothing much. It just diverts attacks. I'd hate to bring anyone to harm."

Harm, thought Gull. Same as the goblin had denied.

The man's voice sounded young, and despite his bushy mustache, Gull guessed he was probably not twenty. Certainly his hands were soft as a baby's. His yellow hair, combed back and stiffened with limewash, was unkempt as a boy's.

His gown was some shiny material that winked as folds caught the firelight. By its rustling, it seemed sheer as ashes. The woven bands of color were no wider than a finger, from red shoulder wings to a yellow waist and dark blue hem that trailed no dust. Many things studded the belt, knobs and jewels and tiny faces, but most curious was a small brass-bound book hung by chains on his left.

Gull had only seen one book in his life, an old one from Wolftooth's travels. It showed drawings of fanciful animals and far-off cities. Gull wondered what a man might see in this book that he chained it close.

As if reading his mind, the wizard swung the book behind him. "Merely wisdom bequeathed by my teacher. You'd find it dull."

Gull found himself agreeing. This boyish wizard had an infectious smile…

Or was this more spelling?

Gull shook his weary head, concentrating. "Why did you come here? Haven't you done enough to ruin this valley? There's nothing left, not even crumbs for rats." Anger thickened his voice.

But the wizard dispelled it easily as dousing a fire. "Yes, I've seen. A terrible thing. A beautiful valley, now spoiled."

"Then why…?" His babble confused the woodcutter. "Why was a battle necessary?"

"It wasn't. May I share your fire?"

Unable to deny a common courtesy, the woodcutter waved. The wizard swept back his skirts (like a woman, Gull thought) and perched on a stump. Liko and Greensleeves watched him curiously.

Gull sat on a rock. Bruised as he was, scratched, dirty, crippled in hand and knee, he felt ancient and broken-down compared against this prissy wizard. He made his voice harsh. "How is this tragedy not your fault, if you were party to the fighting?"

The wizard locked his fingers around one knee and leaned back. Firelight tinted his hair white, an odd young-old look. "As with everything, there are good and evil wizards. That brown one was evil, pure and simple. He came here to enslave your village. You saw those plumed soldiers in the scale mail attack your village. He conjured that giant there, the rain of stones-"

"That killed my father."

"Exactly. He unleashes death. He summoned the plague rats-"

"That killed the woman I loved." The last word stuck in his throat. He'd never said it aloud. Certainly never to Cowslip. He hoped her soul walked easy.

"See? We're agreed. Now, I am a simple seeker of truth, good things to benefit men and women everywhere-"

"Why, then, your own army? You summoned a blue cloud that brought forth blue warriors."

The wizard rocked like a fidgety child. "True. But only to protect myself and my entourage."

Gull remembered the circle of wagons with people huddled inside. Where were they right now? He glanced over his shoulder, saw only darkness. Where had the train gone after the battle, that it could return now? Or was the wizard alone?

The visitor was babbling. "… see that all my spells are defensive. I never-"

"Flying goblins that hurl iron spikes? A wall of briars? A hydra to bite a giant's arm off?"

Both of Liko's heads frowned. Yet if this wizard feared the giant might rise and pound him to pulp, he didn't show it. "I try to lessen the destruction other wizards cause. Remember the fire horn? I brought the rain that quenched its blazes. Surely you don't think that storm was spontaneous?"

Gull frowned. "Two wizards appeared and my home was ruined. I can only think the two wrecked it."

Mildly, he said, "I can understand. Yet if a wolf chased a rabbit through this clearing, and both scattered ashes and started a blaze, would you blame both?"

"We speak of men, not rabbits and wolves," grunted Gull. Likable he might be, but this wizard's tone was insulting, as if he spoke to a slow child. And his answers came easy and quick, as if rehearsed, though not much to the point.

The wizard sighed. "You're a hard man. Any trouble I've caused I can fix. Would a demonstration of good faith convince?"

"It might. It would beat this torrent of words you pour on my head."

The wizard rose, crossed to lay a hand on the giant's thigh. "Good evening, good sir. May I see your sullied arm, please?"

Liko probably didn't understand the words, but he raised his arm. Hands nimble as a surgeon's, the wizard unwrapped the stump and examined. "You come from near the sea, giant?"

"His name is Liko," put in Gull.

"Liko, then. You do? I recognize your caste. I've visited your land in my travels. Lovely country. There's a sea gull there sports a yellow belly, yes?"

Awed, Liko nodded. Both heads watched the wizard say, "Would you like to return home? I can send you there."

"Home?" asked Liko, and Gull's heart ached for him. The giant was like a lost child. "Yes, home. I would like that."

"Of course you would. Everyone wants to return home. Here's what I'll do. A simple spell to heal your arm, make it grow back-"

"Grow back?" yelped Gull. "A man's arm can't grow back!"

For the first time, the wizard looked miffed. "Magic can cure or kill, create or destroy."

Gull wanted to spit. He was being treated like a moron. So why didn't he wallop this wizard?

The wizard worked. One hand on the stump, he consulted the book chained to his belt, muttered an arcane phrase Gull didn't catch.

Then, a miracle.

The wound healed.

Red raw muscles coiled like snakes, knit together like yarn. Rotted flesh sloughed off like sunburn. The jagged bone smoothed to a blunt end. Then, like frost creeping across a windowpane, skin from the edge flowed until meat and bone were covered, pink and smooth as Liko's bald heads.

Gawking, Gull touched the healed stump. A miracle had occurred before his eyes. Yet he recalled "You said it would grow back. All you've done is sear the stump shut."

"Things take time." The wizard sighed. "First comes healing, then rebuilding. If a house falls down, you first must clear away the rubble, true?"

Gull ground his teeth. Everything this wizard said reminded of his village's destruction.

But again, the wizard rambled, deflecting Gull's anger. "His arm will regrow, because I have commanded it so. Once back in his native land, he'll be more at ease, so will heal faster."

The woodcutter laid a hand on Liko's huge arm. "Are you sure you know his native land? Yellow-bellied sea gulls might be common to many shores. He could end up stranded as far from his home as he's stranded here."

"You know little of magic. A creature conjured from a familiar place retains an impression of it, as a man walking through snow leaves footprints that point to his starting place." He turned. "Liko, will you go home?"

Looking wise as an ancient sage, twice so with two heads, the giant nodded. "Yes. I go home. Fish."

"You'll have fish aplenty," smiled the wizard. He walked to the giant's feet, placed long fine hands on the big dirty toes. "Then go, and heal quickly."

Before Gull could say good-bye, or even wave, the giant twinkled like foxfire under moonlight, or snow in a campfire, or rain -and was gone.

The wizard turned with open hands. "There. I've healed your big friend and sent him home. Do I side with good or evil?"

A quote from his cynical father came to Gull's mind. A man can help others a little and still help himself a lot.

The wizard took his silence for assent. "I'm glad we agree. Because I'd like to hire you."

"Are you mad? Work for a wizard? One of the godless fiends who destroyed my home and wiped out my family?"

Gull cast about for his axe. He'd been right all along: he should have butchered this smooth-talking fop when he first walked into camp. (But he'd tried, a thought nagged, and had fallen down.)

"I can't believe your gall! Me work for you? I'd no more trust a wizard than a broken-backed snake! I wish the gods would wipe every wizard from the Domains. That would be the end to all misery…"

When he drew a breath, the man in stripes huffed. "Look, I've explained all that. I'm for good works and you can help me. Now try to listen, please?"

As Gull subsided, the wizard regained his tree stump, sat primly, and continued. "My freightmaster is dead. When we circle the wagons, we put the horses outside lest they panic and bolt. My freightmaster wouldn't leave the beasts, and was killed by a fireball. I have no one to handle my teams. I saw your mules, fine animals, well cared for and content. You'd make a good freighter, or muleskinner or wrangler or whatever you prefer to be called.

"Look around. You have no reason to stay here-a haunted wood with a helpless sister to watch. Join me and I'll pay well-"

Suspicious, Gull demanded, "How know you of my sister?"

A hand waved the question away. "I gather information. I always learn what I can about a place, and who's in it, to know what I'm defending. I saw you caught in the battle-and again, I apologize-and save your sister. It was brave how you sheltered her, and showed brains. I need a man like that.

"I'll pay in gold, two crowns a day, and board is included. You can travel and be paid for it. You can squirrel away a fortune, find some new place to settle." He laughed. "Work for me for three years and you can buy a village!"

Flustered by this strange offer, Gull stalled to think. He sat on his rock, stirred the fire with a stick. "Where does a seeker of truth and knowledge find so much gold?"

Another hand waved that away. "In seeking magic, venturing where few will or can, I uncover whole fortunes. Sometimes more than I can bother with. Oftimes I barter the money to locals for more folklore, clues to more knowledge and magicks. Not something you need fret about. My followers can sink their teeth in my coin. Now. What's your answer?"

Another of Brown Bear's comments rose to mind. Sleep on any bargain. Time enough to make mistakes. More to his dead father than himself, Gull replied, "I need consider. I'll give my reply in the morning."

"Wise." The wizard nodded. "Very wise. You'll make a fine freighter. Smarter than poor dead Gorman. Come at dawn if you come at all. We leave shortly after." He rose to go, stripes shimmering in the firelight.

"Wait," called Gull. "If I come, I must bring my sister. I'm charged with minding her."

The wizard smiled. "You're good to animals and people alike. She may come along. Likely she'll eat little. I bid you good-night, and hope to see you in the morn."

Stripes rippling like flames, he faded into the dark.

Gull sat thinking a long time, his first real chance to consider the future. Only the crackling fire kept him company. Greensleeves had curled up like a cat to nap.

Should they go or no? Could they stay here?

No, for many reasons. They had no grain, no stores, and the Whispering Woods did not abound in game. They'd soon exhaust it if they camped here. Just as the plague rats in the village would eventually exhaust its food, then move into the woods like a rapacious black army. And if plague and starvation didn't kill them, winter's cold would.

For himself, he almost didn't care. But he had to care for Greensleeves.

And there was another advantage. By staying close to this wizard, he might eventually meet up with the other wizard, the woman with glossy hair. Then, though he couldn't see how, he'd take revenge for the ravaging of White Ridge.

A nagging doubt returned: what if Sparrow Hawk returned? Yet in his heart, Gull knew the boy was lost, probably forever.

Having decided to leave, Gull felt like an uprooted tree. Alive, but dying slowly, hardening and rotting at the same time.

And that was another thing he'd forgotten to ask.

Where were they bound?

Come the dawn, two humans, two mules, and two centaurs left the Whispering Woods and tripped toward a circle of wagons on a ridge above a ruined village.

Gull had yoked his mules to his wood-hauling sledge and piled it with tools: two saws, two axes, a hammer, files and whetstones, a haversack, a redware jug, his longbow and arrows, a cloak for bad weather. He walked in his leather tunic and kilt and wooden clogs, and that was all he owned.

With him came Greensleeves, who owned a ragged gown and shawl and nothing else, not even shoes, for she'd always lost any pairs given her. A bundle of ferns was clutched in one grubby hand. An ash leaf dotted her messy brown hair, and her brother plucked it away. Their mother had always tidied her hair, but now they lacked even a comb.

The centaurs wore full battle armor, but no warpaint, and carried their lances upright so the feathers fluttered in the morning breeze.

No one talked, though they'd discussed long into the night.

Helki and Holleb had agreed that, while there were countless stories of ruthless wizards, there were also stories where they befriended heroes and helped to save the day. So the striped wizard-whose name Gull hadn't learned-might well be a harmless student. It might benefit to work for him.

Yet the centaurs couldn't discuss much, for they were too eager. They marched, eight feet in time, with heads high, but skittish as colts at first snow.

The wizard's entourage watched them come. As he limped across the mossy ledges, Gull studied back. The wagons were fairly new, brightly painted, the canvas yellowed but tight. The camp was neat, free of rubbish and food scraps, even sported a canvas screen around a cat hole privy downwind. The wizard didn't allow slovenliness.

Only the horses and mules tethered to the picket line looked neglected. Gull frowned at shabby coats, matted tails, overgrown hooves, and dull eyes. He was suddenly glad the freighter had been killed-he deserved it.

Seven men and more women ate breakfast in the circle. A fat cook sweated over a grill. After two days of forest fodder, the aroma of pancakes and honey made Gull's stomach squeak.

A large dark man in black leather called into a wagon, and the striped wizard popped out, smiling. He hopped over a wagon tongue and raised both hands.

"My friends! Good to see you this fine morning! Come, come! Join us! Have you eaten?"

Gull clucked his mules to a halt, stopped Greensleeves from chasing a butterfly. The centaurs stamped as if clicking heels.

"Business before we break bread," said the woodcutter. "I've pondered your offer, and we will hire on. I can see your stock need care, and Greensleeves will be no trouble. But I do ask one boon."

Having won, the wizard smiled like a king. "I'll do my best, sir. What may I grant?"

Gull waved a hand. "These be Helki and Holleb. They were summoned here by the brown-robed wizard and stranded. If you could see fit-"

"To send them home, as I did the giant?" A smile. By daylight, the wizard looked more boyish than ever, not unlike the lost Sparrow Hawk. "I'd be delighted. I've already sent some-home this morn. My bodyguards caught goblins raiding our larder. Returning them to their blighted wastes will be punishment enough. I sent home that crippled clockwork, too. I hope whoever owns it can repair it."

That was curious, Gull thought idly. How could he know whence the beast came? Had it a brain? Had it talked?

"Now, may I ask…"

The centaur-soldiers described their green steppelands north of the Honeyed Sea. The wizard asked many questions, listed foreign names by the score, until he mentioned Broken Toe Mountain. The centaurs fairly danced in place. "Yes, we know that mount! Is close to home! You have been there?"

The wizard smiled in answer. Without further ado, (or payment, Gull noted), he laid hands on their breastplates. They shied at the strange touch, but the wizard shushed them and whispered a spell.

Yet Helki bleated and backed off. Flustered, she tripped sideways to Gull. "We go. But we thank for hospitality. We remember always as friend."

"I too," said Gull, choked. It hurt to say good-bye again after losing so much. "I'm sorry I doubted your- honor."

Greensleeves caressed the centaur's glossy roan flank, offered her ferns. Distracted, Helki took the bunch.

"It's good you go home," Gull said. "It's important to have a… home…"

Tears leaking from under her helmet, Helki saluted with her lance and cantered to the wizard, who smiled like a doting grandfather. With laid-on hands, a whisper, and a twinkle like dawn starlight, the centaurs disappeared.

The wizard dusted his hands, satisfied. He patted Greensleeves's tousled head, shook Gull's hand. "I'm glad you've joined us. We need you. And welcome your sister and her gentle ways. Come, break your fast. Then you can meet the stock. As you say, they need attention."

"But how are you called?" Gull asked. "How shall I address you?"

A shrug. "We're not much on formality. I'm younger than most of you, so it'd be silly to go by 'Master.' Call me Towser."

"Towser?"

A small smile. "Aye. A name for a small dog. My father was a joker. And so is his son, sometimes."

So it was that, two hours later, Gull hitched horses and mules where the cook's boy pointed. He cinched harness and tugged straps, pronounced the teams ready. His own mules were hitched before another team to the chuck wagon. Gull rode the box with Greensleeves alongside. Inside, the cook and slops boy went back to sleep amidst boxes and sacks and barrels.

Gull clucked, got his team rolling. Others wheeled behind. Towser was fuzzy on their destination, simply ordered them into the Whispering Woods at the first gap that would take wagons.

As the wagon rattled along the ridge, Gull didn't look down. There'd be only bones in the valley now.

And he'd never see it again.