Deep magic second coll.., p.57
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 57
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
By Steve R. Yeager | 3,500 Words
Prompt (Sam Muller): The wind came from nowhere and took my hat away with it. The hat was not expensive, as hats went, but it had cost me a week’s wage. It wasn’t the fashionable sort, but it was new and I had meant it to last me for a few years. The wind had been here a minute, gone the next. Everywhere around me the trees were as still as the dead. Such a brief wind couldn’t have taken hat far.
THE WIND CAME from nowhere and took my hat away with it. The hat was not expensive, as wizard hats go. It had only cost me a week’s wages. It also wasn’t the fashionable sort I wore when at court, but the darn thing was new to me and I liked it and wanted it to last a few years.
I figured the wind hadn't taken the hat far, and if I kept looking for it, I’d eventually find it.
Or so I had first thought.
Presently, I was straddling a horse with my hands tied behind my back. A scratchy rope was around my neck, in the form of a noose. The other end of the rope was secured to the thick branch of an old oak tree. Which meant, if the horse moved, I was a goner.
My memories of the past several hours were also a bit fuzzy. I had no idea why I was about to be hanged. I didn’t even know on whose horse I sat. All I knew for certain was that my head throbbed, my throat was dry, and my tongue felt as if it had been replaced by a very large caterpillar. Which, strange as that might sound, was a distinct possibility, given that I was a wizard capable of such things.
On a positive note, it was a beautiful spring day sometime past noon. And, because I was a wizard, dislodging myself from my presently precarious situation should be a snap.
A simple spell should suffice.
Visualizing the quietest spell I knew, not wanting to spook the horse, I brought the image of success into sharp focus within my mind’s eye. Then I gathered the necessary energy to execute the spell from The Void. Once I had secured the vitalities and whatnots I needed, I released my hold on the energy and spoke the cryptic words to make it so.
Ahhhhhhh!
My head exploded with such pain that I nearly fell from the horse. My entire body went rigid, then started to shudder uncontrollably. I think I cried out, laying voice to my anguish, but couldn’t be sure if I had made any sound at all or if it was all in my head.
When the agony finally subsided, I sat there panting. The horse, fortunately, hadn’t moved. But it had shifted forward just enough to tighten the noose around my neck to the point I had lifted out of the saddle and was struggling to breathe. Also, something else had gone terribly wrong with the spell because the aftereffects rang loudly in my head, louder than the pounding presence already there.
“Whoa, horse,” I managed to say through my constricted throat and clenched jaw, but it had cost me something to say it, and I fought hard to suppress the following fit of gagging and coughing.
Using my legs, I gently rocked myself forward in the saddle. Mercifully, the horse sensed what I wanted it to do and stepped backward. I settled onto the saddle once more and welcomed every new breath.
Then I took a moment to collect my wits.
The failure had shocked me, I must say, which forced me to confront a hard truth. My abilities might have abandoned me. It could also be that casting spells was what had caused the throbbing pain in my head and the loss of memory. I realized then just how lucky I’d been up to that point. There was no benefit in pushing that luck. Especially since I had another card to play.
I’d been blessed with a silver tongue and could waggle it with the best of them. The Voice, surely, had not abandoned me. While it was not one of the fancier skills great wizards brag about, it was useful nonetheless. Mostly it was a skill employed by the Druids of the forest, who often smelled funny because they rarely bathed like good, civilized folk.
With difficulty—and still doubting my abilities—I made the mental switch to re-focus my mind on the awkward stylings of The Voice. I was a little worried that my fuzzy tongue might cause me to mispronounce words, but that couldn’t be helped.
Speaking in the awkward dialect, "Horth…eh…Horse," I said as clearly as I could.
I winced, half-expecting the same pain I’d felt when trying to cast a spell. But my head seemed normal this time, aside from the throbbing headache.
“Horse,” I said again, being as polite as I could. “Pleathse, if you could stay calm and not go anywhere until I figure out how to get off your back without me breaking my neck, I would appreciate it very much.”
Nothing.
“Horth…” I coughed to clear my throat. “Horse?”
“Why should I stay here?” the horse finally said. “You woke me, man-thing. I had all but dozed off, and then you started shaking and shivering on my back. I didn't know what you wanted me to do. Now that I am awake, can you hurry up and—? I think—Fly! I hate flies. Shoo. Shoo. Oh, grass. I see green grass I wish to eat, just over there. See it? Is it okay if I go eat some?”
While horses can't point in a direction with anything but their noses, I had the general sense the horse would much rather go and eat the grass than stand still and let me live.
“Please, just a little longer, horse, that's all I ask. Stand here, won’t you? If you don't move, I promithse that I’ll give you a nice juicy apple for your throubles.”
“Apple? You think you can bribe me to wait here and not move for a measly apple? That grass is looking pretty sweet. Plus, you talk funny.”
I’d never realized before that horses could negotiate.
“In a minute, pleathse,” I quickly said. “I’ll get you whatever you want. A whole barrel of apples if you would like. Give me a couple more minutes. Pleathse…?”
“Hrrumph,” said the horse. “Hurry up. I'm hungry.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. Stand still, pleathse.”
The horse snorted in response and drifted back to a half-slumber. I broke off contact with his mind, cleared my throat, and licked my lips. My tongue was swollen, but I knew I could improve my diction if I worked at it.
Now that I had solved the immediate problem of the horse staying put, I resumed work on the next item on my list of highly important issues.
Failing to cast the spell earlier could have been a fluke, or I had intoned it incorrectly due to the tongue situation. I'd never experienced that kind of pain before when trying to cast spells, or at least couldn’t remember experiencing that kind of pain. So it was hard to pinpoint where I could have gone wrong. Maybe if I tried another spell, a smaller one. That might work. It would have to be one so small it would require but a tiny amount of energy from The Void and a much easier phrasing. But which spell would work best in this case?
Then it hit me. So much so I wanted to snap my fingers together and say, “Aha!” But with my hands still tied, snapping my fingers in any meaningful way was darn near impossible.
Reaching out for the minuscule amount of energy required, I directed the spell at the nearest leaf, the one fluttering just above my head.
I spoke the words as clearly and precisely as I could.
Ahhhhh!
The pain flared brightly, hurting every bit as much as if I’d burned myself on a stone set next to a roaring fire. The world around me tinged red and went blurry as the aftereffects rattled around in my brain. I’m sure I clenched my fists and fought to get free, but couldn’t be entirely sure of that.
This time, though, I didn’t black out. I think.
Progress.
A few seconds later, my vision cleared to normal. The ringing ceased a few seconds after that. When I looked up at the leaf that I had targeted with my spell, it just hung there, still firmly attached to the tree, mocking me.
I wanted to yell out in frustration. I was back at step zero.
Being the smart wizard that I am, I figured that if a little energy wasn't going to do the trick, then maybe a massive burst might work, even if I did black out in the process.
Shutting my eyes, I gathered all I could from The Void, sucking dry every bit of the energy around me to create one immense, overcharged spell. I am not able to contain that much power for long, so I let it fly almost immediately and opened my mouth to speak the words to complete the incarnation.
And—
As I wobbled in the saddle, my wits slowly returned. I refocused my gaze on the leaf above. It hung there, unmoving. Then a breeze came along and caused the leaf to flutter, continuing to make a mockery of my best efforts.
I don’t remember exactly what had happened, or how long I had been out for. The pain in my head was growing less and the rope around my throat itched slightly more, so something had changed. I just wasn’t sure what.
Out of ideas, I did the only thing I could think of doing.
“Help!” I cried out meekly. Then I felt slightly stupid for doing so. A wizard, rendered powerless, hanging by a rope from a tree, having to yell out for help. The whole situation was deeply embarrassing.
Then it came to me. Another living entity was close to me. I was sure I could communicate with it.
The ancient oak tree.
However, oak trees were known to be notoriously slow and stubborn.
Still.
I drew a breath to prepare myself.
“Tree,” I said in the unhurried pace of all trees.
I received no response.
“Tree.”
Nothing.
“Tree, are you there? Can you hear me?”
Not even a rustle of leaves.
“TREE! TREE! TREE!” I shouted.
I then heard the beginnings of a response. “Huh…? Wha…? Who are you? Oh, now I see you, you silly human. Why are you hanging from one of my branches? I’d like it much better if you left me in peace.”
“Tree…?” I asked timidly.
Two minutes passed.
“Tree, can you understand me?”
It grumbled. The leaves crackled. “Why does a such an ugly bag of meat as you hang from my most glorious of limbs and befoul my magnificent presence?”
No words came to mind with which to answer. I started to stammer.
The tree grumbled again then went silent.
“Tree?”
Two more minutes passed.
Three.
Four.
“Sorry, human, I was away for a moment. I had to tell all the other trees about you. They wanted to know why you were hanging from my limb like a sack of quivering meat. They found the joke most amusing. As it indeed was.”
Amusing…? I didn’t answer and remained silent for a time.
Rumbling first, the tree then said, “Human, while you are hanging there, would you like to hear me tell a joke?”
I did not particularly wish to engage in any interchanges, even less so one the tree considered humorous, but to not listen might offend the tree.
“Okay. Sure,” I said.
“Did you ever hear the one about the pine tree with boring bugs?”
Silence.
“No? Never mind, it’s not as funny as—”
“Hold on,” I said. “Please. Stop.”
“But you haven't heard a joke yet. Listen, human. You don't seem all that busy being just a meat-bag, so you have time to listen to my jokes, right? You haven't moved in such a long time. Or is it a short time? Time, you see, is relative. I never can quite tell how long it has been. Do you have somewhere else you wish to go?”
The answer was so obvious I didn’t want to supply it.
“Yes? No…?” asked the tree. “Fine. Good. Then listen up. I get to talk to so few meat-bags. This is a real treat for me. There was once a—”
And the tree spoke for what seemed like both ten seconds and also forever, rapidly going through its long story, which was very unlike the average oak tree. This one seemed even more ancient than most, so it had destroyed the stereotype I’d created in my mind about talking trees. In the end, however, I wasn't sure how much longer I could put up with the incessant prattle—or how I might go about interrupting the tree while it was on a roll.
For the briefest of moments, I considered kicking the horse to make it run and leave me dangling by my neck until dead.
Then I thought better of that. “Tree!” I said, deciding to interrupt its long story.
The tree stopped telling its story. It asked in a hurt tone, “What…?”
To mollify any hurt feelings, I said as kindly as I could, “I’d love to hear all of your stories one day, but I'm in a bit of a situation here. Do you think you could help me out?”
“Oh, I see. How can I help you? Maybe I could… But there was this woodpecker once. Do you know much about woodpeckers, they are—?”
"Tree," I said, trying to stop it from jabbering, but it kept talking, so I waited for it to take a breath.
Then I realized that trees don't have lungs.
“Tree,” I said again.
Nothing. Still talking.
I said, “Tree” one more time before resigning and listening with muted patience while it told me everything it knew about woodpeckers.
Finally, it stopped talking.
“Please, tree,” I said, “I'd like to free myself. If I don't soon, I'll be dead and won't be able to listen to your stories ever again.”
“Oh? That's not good, meat-bag. How can I help?”
“If you would be so kind as to drop the limb with the rope attached to it, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Drop my limb off, you say? Hmmm. Can you drop off your own arm, meat-bag?”
“What?”
“If you can't go about dropping your own arm off, how do you expect me to be able to drop off mine?”
I hadn’t considered that.
“Tree, can you think of another way to free me? If you could, I would be willing to tell you all I know about woodpeckers. That could aid you in the future. I’ll bet you don’t know that they can—”
“There is something I don't know about woodpeckers?”
“Yes,” I lied, getting desperate.
"Well, okay, then," the tree said. "I was only kidding about your arm. I can easily grow new limbs. It just takes a while. I think. Like I said, time is relative. I can't say I've ever seen a meat-bag regrow an arm, or a leg for that matter. Which is why trees are superior to humans.”
“Tree?”
“Yes? Have you stopped to consider that my limb will crush you like a bug when it falls from my trunk? So, you’d better move out of the way and do so soon.”
I hadn’t considered that either. Perhaps the headache and constant ringing in my ears was affecting how I was thinking? What other errors had I made?
I sucked in another deep breath. “I think I can move a little if the horse helps me out. Just let me know when I need to move so I can get out of the way of your falling branch.”
The tree paused. I welcomed the break from its chatter. The new problem required that I get out of the falling branch’s way. I could do that.
The tree finally responded to my question. “Meat-bag?”
“Yes?”
“It is done, the limb will now drop off.”
“Good, thank you—”
I reconsidered what I had asked the tree to do. Then it hit me. “Wait a second. I mean hold on. Please. Yes, hold onto your limb for a little while longer if you can.”
I had to wake the horse again. That meant cutting off contact with the tree. Speaking with two spirit entities at the same time was impossible, or so I'd been told.
One final question for the tree first. “Tree, how long do I have before your limb falls off?"
The tree was again silent for a moment, which left me time to start worrying. Looking over my shoulder at the rope, I noticed it was not all that long. Then, I looked at how far away the ground was, and—
I believe I might have made yet another mistake.
“Tree! Stop!”
“Stop what? You asked how long it would take. I'm working on figuring that out for you. I’m not so good at math.”
“Can't you…stop it? The limb falling, I mean. Please. Hurry. The rope is too short. When your branch falls, I will be yanked off the horse and killed.”
“Oh? That's not good, meat-bag. But...I can't stop it from happening now. Sorry. Once I get it going, my limb will break off on its own when it is good and ready to break off.”
I was hesitant to ask because I thought I knew the answer and wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to know it. "And…how long will that take?”
“I've already started working on it.”
“So…when exactly?”
“It should fall off by late autumn, maybe winter at the very latest."
Disgusted with my own stupidity, I broke off contact with the tree.
I was doomed. There was no way out of this.
Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past my head, causing me to flinch away from it. Another hit the branch above my head and quivered back and forth. When it came to a stop, my heart skipped a beat. I recognized the fletching on the arrow.
Another arrow followed.
Another.
Then the arrows stopped completely.
“Brother?” I said, turning toward the grinning bowman.
It was indeed my brother. He nocked another arrow and aimed it in my direction. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, his arms were shaking, and the tip of the arrow was tracing unsteady patterns in the air.
“Hold still,” he said, “I'm going to cut the rope with my arrow.”
I had to give him credit for trying, but my brother, you see, was known to be a terrible archer. Having him shoot arrows as a way of cutting the rope was a horrifyingly bad idea. There was little doubt he would miss his target and hit me—or the horse.
I was about to die.
But, much to my surprise, my thoughts turned inward and became tranquil. While I was not yet ready to die, I realized that being angry or fearful about it was not the right answer.
It was the most amazing feeling I think I’ve ever had.
No longer feeling anxiety over my impending death, I looked at my brother and smiled.
Instead of loosing the arrow, he let off his draw and lowered the bow.
“You nearly killed me,” I said calmly.
He nodded knowingly as he walked toward me. There was something attached to the strap of his quiver. Realizing what he carried, I felt my grin broaden. I shook my head as much as I was able.
