Book of Magic

comfortably. When he walked in, his arms full with a fresh load of firewood, the wizard looked up from his book.

  “They do say everything from far away is better.” He smiled at the logs on the youth’s arm before he resumed reading.

  “Vera was at the cave.”

  The wizard raised his head from its position over the page, to indicate that he was listening to what Dun said, not just reading. Living with the old wizard during the long winter season certainly taught him a lot about wood lore and magics, but the man would never be much of a conversationalist, especially when his nose was in one of the thick volumes. Dun didn’t mind reading, but he did feel there should be more doing to magic, instead of just reading and thinking about it.

  “She’s in danger.”

  Now the wizard looked up, putting his finger down on the page.

  “What?”

  Dun handed over the piece of parchment, balancing the wood against his chest.

  “Hmm… Maybe our new keep lord doesn’t like his prize to wander. I would be very surprised if she were in any physical danger. At least for now.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You never wondered why our friend Solis threw you out of the keep?”

  The wizard looked up at the tall youth, an amused smile pulled at the corners of his narrow lips.

  “Because I couldn’t save Wolfour. But I really -”

  The old man’s cackle interrupted Dun’s stammering. He turned serious when he looked back up at Dun, still standing in the middle of the room, clutching the pile of firewood to his chest.

  “There was nothing you could have done to save him. I seriously suspect Solis had him poisoned – ” He held up a hand to stop Dun’s confused outcry. “And even if you’d given him the antidote, there was little chance of him surviving long before meeting a dagger or something of the like, to finish the job.”

  “But… Then -”

  Dun already had one foot out the door when the old man’s voice stopped him.

  “She’s safe don’t worry -”

  “You don’t know that!”

  Dun tossed down the wood to highlight his frustration. The logs thudded on the packed earth floor, lifting the thin cover of rushes where they landed.

  “Until Spring fest, I believe she’s perfectly safe, if maybe not entirely comfortable at the prospect of marrying the man who murdered her father.”

  “What!? She’d never...” Dun faltered as he sat down on one of the rickety stools. It groaned under his weight.

  “She’s smart enough to at least pretend she will, if we’re talking about the same girl,” The wizard closed the book on the table in front of him with a sigh. “No, it’s you I worry about.”

  “I’m not the one locked up in Dungarr.”

  “Try to keep it that way, my boy. That man’s a petty little tyrant, and there are few things more dangerous to be around.”

  New moon

  Darkness still reigned when Dun reached the edge of the valley. New moon made the night even darker still, but he could not wait for day to come.

  He watched Vera from a distance, walking along the keep’s crenelated walls for an afternoon stroll. A dot of bright blue, her favourite colour, against the slate of storm clouds fat with snow. It only served to make him ache for her more. The thought of the dark gloss of her hair and the rosebud shape of her lips kept popping into his mind.

  The snow fell from the sky in thick clumps of crystal, hiding the world beyond twice his arm’s reach. It would hide their tracks within an hour. In his mind he thanked Mother Winter for her assistance. The old wizard might be right to believe that Vera was safe until spring, but any risk to her was too much for Dun to bear. He briefly touched his chest, where Vera’s note rested, safely tucked inside a wooden amulet.

  In his pack he carried all the supplies he dared take from the wizard’s stores. Vera would come on one of her horses, she might even have though to bring a spare, but he could walk as she rode. One of her necklaces alone would support them for a good while, once they reached the city. Images of the great island city of the Isles, glimpsed in the old wizard’s books, rolled before his eyes. They would have to travel across the plains of Io to reach it, but once they did, the pleasures of city-life awaited them. They said the city never slept, that a man could walk an entire day in a straight line and not reach the end.

  Bent over against the wind, he pulled his feet and legs through the resisting blanket of snow. He didn’t see the horses, or the men, until it was too late. A voice from behind him called out.

  “That’s far enough,” The edge of something hard poked his lower back. “Hands out to the sides, and drop that pack.”

  “That sounds like a difficult combination,” Dun said, not moving a muscle and looking at the men standing around him. “What brings you to my valley?”

  He knew three of the four men from when he still lived in the keep, the one on his left he didn’t recognize.

  “Our lorft’s falley, piefe of filth,” The man Dun didn’t know spoke with a strong lisp and he suspected that he would have felt him speak, as much as heard him, if he stood any nearer. “Binf him.”

  The lisp jerked his chin toward the man in front of Dun, Jeddu. The dark-browed man frowned, but walked down the small rise toward Dun. He held up a rope.

  “Sorry kid,” He spoke so that only Dun could hear him. “Nothing I can do.”

  Dun gave a short nod and held his clenched hands out in front of him, the insides of his wrists touching each other. Jeddu bound him and took a step back.

  “Now what?” He asked the man with the lisp.

  “Now, fwe kill him.” The lisp said with a grin that showed what was left of his teeth. He drew his sword out of its scabbard as he closed on Dun. With a sharp kick to the hollow of his knee, he forced Dun down on the ground. He brought his sword up over his head. Dun reached for the long knife on his hip. The rope cut into the skin of his wrists, straining to get to it. He leaned as far back as he could, to put as much distance as possible between himself and the blade that hovered above his head. The sword swung down, towards his neck.

  Clang, skkkringg.

  He rolled over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to get out of reach. When he looked up, he saw Jeddu and the lisp facing each other, swords locked.

  “Since when do we cut down bound kids?”

  Jeddu grunted with the effort of keeping his sword in position. The two other guards stood looking at the scene. One of them had his sword out of his scabbard, but kept it pointed at the ground.

  “Lord’s orders.” The other man lisped, his gaze locked on Jeddu’s. After a moment, Dun realized what he was doing.

  “Jed... -”

  Too late. The dagger in the lisping man’s left hand stuck the soft flesh of his opponent’s throat. Jeddu sagged to his knees. Then toppled slowly. He landed face-first into the snow. It covered his face, hiding his final expression of surprise.

  For a moment the other guards stood, watching the red stain around their friend grow as blood got sucked into the snow. Then, with a double roar, they turned on the lisping man, hacking at him with their swords.

  Dun rolled a short distance to get out underfoot, before he started sawing at his bonds. They used poor quality rope and he kept his dagger sharp, but it still took him several tries and a slice of skin to free himself. He snapped the final threads by force, then rose to his feet with his dagger ready to use.

  The lisping man lay dead a short distance away, sword sticking up from his chest like a single porcupine pen. Next to him was the owner of that sword, also dead. He didn’t see the last man, but a faint moaning rose up beyond in an abrupt break in the snow’s surface. He must have fallen down into the creek bed. Dun approached the edge carefully, more weary of crumbling edges, than of the man crying below.

  When he found a spot that would support his weight, he climbed down. It was clear the man down on the ice wasn’t going to live past the day. He held his gut, tr
ying to keep his insides in, but an inordinate amount of his blood was already freezing on the ice in a large circle.

  “Here,” Dune folded one of his scarves and put it between the man’s head and the ice. “I’m afraid that’s about all I can do for you.”

  After a moment, he unslung the pack that was still on his back and untied one of the blankets rolled on top. It was a good wool blanket, but he could do without. He spread it over the shivering man, tucking it in over his shoulders and around his feet.

  “Y-you s-s-hould,” The man grunted with the effort it cost him to speak and fell silent. Just when Dun got up to leave, he continued, seemingly without effort now. “Take the horses. Don’t go back home, Silas know where it is. He will be there by no..-”

  Dun frowned, reaching down to take the man by the shoulders and ask for further explanation, but as he bent over, he saw it was too late for that now. He pulled one of the corners, so the blanket covered the man’s face.

  The horses were tied in the entrance of the cave. They greeted him with their horse huffs and puffs. He didn’t like horses, at least not to ride, and for a moment he was tempted to just cut them loose and go by foot.

  He looked back toward the mouth of the valley, hoping against hope to see Vera ride down. The snow stopped sometime during their struggle. A distinct grey plume of forest on fire marred the clear sky. It came from the direction of the old man’s house.

  He was lucky patrol horses are used to poor riders. The one he picked, rode in the direction he wanted to go without complaint,