CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The wizard saw the king and the wizard did laugh
“You need me king, and the power of my staff.”
“Tis true,” said the king, my enemy has arrived.
“What might it take to have you fight from my side?”
The moment Darbon’s cupful of stream water splashed across his hairy face, the old wizard came awake. It was comical the way the bewildered mage sputtered and slapped at his mug, then began to defend himself by rolling into a brawler’s crouch. He even started to cast a spell.
“Hold there!” Vanx called through his mirth. To Vanx’s surprise, the skinny old man wasn’t injured, only disheveled. The wizard’s silver-grey hair was sticking out in all directions, and grass and twigs were caught up in the tangle. Darbon was crouched behind Vanx, apparently as afraid of the glowing purple orb as he was of the wild- looking man he had just awakened inside of it.
“Who are you?” the wizard asked with a nervous glance around the area beyond his protective shield. He patted at something under his robe to see if it was still there; a medallion, or a necklace maybe. “Did Garner send you?” He glanced at his outstretched arm and narrowed his owlish brows in irritation. As Vanx began to speak, the wizard gave the object hanging under his robe a squeeze. With a harrumph of satisfaction he then set to scratching his body like a flea-infested hound.
“My name is Vanx Malic,” Vanx chuckled. “Scratching that rash will only make it worse.”
“I know that,” the wizard snapped. “But I can’t help myself, it itches horribly.” Suddenly the old man rolled to his back, brought his legs up and began scratching at them. “I need some — what are they called?”
“Bramble berries,” Vanx offered. “As soon as the sun comes up I’ll fetch you some.” Vanx knew he could have found a bramble bush relatively quickly, even in the dark. He’d spotted several of them earlier while he trekked through the forest, but he wanted a bit of leverage over the wizard for the moment.
“A member of our party,” Vanx stepped aside leaving the huddled form of Darbon awash in lavender light. “… needs your assistance badly. She was bitten by a flower beast and its bite has rendered her unconscious and extremely fevered.”
“Ah.” The wizard kept scratching absently. “The venom of a fang flower will do that.” He stopped scratching long enough to pull at his beard while he contemplated something. “Nothing I can do to save her, lad.” He went back to scratching. “Vanx Malic, you say? That’s a strange name for a man. You’re not Parydonian, I assume. Now where’s Garner?”
“I don’t know a Garner,” Vanx said a little more harshly than he intended to. “If you want me to get those bramble berries for you, then you’ll at least have a look at Gallarael. I’ve found your pack of components, and I know exactly what you are.”
Darbon took a step back.
Vanx continued. “It’s obvious you’re a stranger to the forest or you would have already found some. Now what will it be?”
Just then, Darbon stumbled backward into the charred form of the ogre, creating a small swirling cloud of ash. In the lavender light thrown by the wizard’s orb, with Darbon swatting at the stuff, it looked like a swarm of flies had attacked the young man.
Vanx couldn’t help but guffaw at Darbon’s confusion.
“You said Gallarael,” the wizard finally spoke. His tone had grown serious and it brought Vanx’s attention back to bear.
“Yes,” Vanx answered. “Gallarael Martin, the daughter of Gallarain and the Duke of Highlake.”
“By all the gods of man and beast, what’s going on here?” the wizard said. “What is she doing in the Wildwood? Why didn’t you say it was her?” He stumbled to his feet and, with the snap of his fingers, dispelled the translucent shield from around him then created a small orb of harsh white light which appeared in one of his open palms.
“You’ll save her then?” Vanx asked as a wash of hope cascaded over him.
“There’s nothing I can do to save her, man,” the wizard repeated. “But maybe she can still be saved.”
“Who are you?” Darbon, who had recovered from his mishap, asked in open awe of the magic he was witnessing.
Vanx could tell that the wizard wanted to laugh when he saw the soot-blackened boy blinking curiously at his bright orb of illumination. The way the old man’s irritated expression softened, and the way the mirthful glow he’d almost felt faded away from him told Vanx just how dire Gallarael’s situation really was.
“My name is Quazar. I am of the Royal Order.” The wizard forced a smile. He started to say more but went into a fit of scratching that caused both Vanx and Darbon to grimace with sympathy.
With a glance around the now brightly illuminated area, Vanx spotted the telltale blue flowers of a bramble bush. He didn’t hesitate to traipse through the trees and break off a branch that held a dozen of the yellow and green berries. Their juice negated the effects of the itch-weed.
The fact that Quazar was of the Royal Order meant that he served the nobility of Parydon dutifully. Vanx decided he was no threat to the group. Even though the wizard would treat him differently as soon as he knew Vanx was considered a slave, he didn’t feel right letting the old man suffer a moment longer. He crushed some of the berries in his palms and showed the rash-covered man how to smear the juice and then rub in the pulp. He then led Quazar to the river where Gallarael lay half-in, half-out of the frigid water.
The next day Gallarael lay on her bedroll with her head cradled in Trevin’s lap, her fever held at bay by a spell. The sobbing young guardsman had held her throughout the night. After hearing Quazar’s proclamation he clearly didn’t want to let her go.
The sun was high and it was warm, almost hot. Vanx wasn’t sweating yet, but he was at that point. An insistent dragonfly kept stopping to hover just out of reach of where he sat. It would dart away when he would reach out for it. He wasn’t threatening with his motion, and he extended a finger, hoping to get the curious insect to land there.
“If we could get her to Dyntalla before the venom finishes liquefying her insides, then maybe the healers and I can put her under a spell that will restabulate her for a time,” the old man said after examining her. “If it works we might could hold her in a metaphysicated stabulation, but only for a time.”
After hearing what the poison was doing to his lover’s body, Trevin broke down. Vanx only half understood what he’d heard, but he wanted to know more. “What could be done for her after she is restabulated?” he asked, searching the old man for any sign that there was real hope for her. If the situation had been any less dire, Vanx might have laughed at the wizard. The bramble berry juice had stained his skin a jaundiced yellow. In the morning light Quazar looked worse than Gallarael.
As Quazar continued the shy dragonfly did land on Vanx’s finger, but only for a fleeting second. Then it was gone, zipping haphazardly off into the forest greenery.
“There is a substance, a rare and exotic liquid, that can yield an antidote for the fang flower venom.” Quazar spoke in a hushed tone, trying to keep the words from Trevin’s despairing ears. It seemed to Vanx that the wizard didn’t think the substance could be obtained in time to save her. Then Quazar made a rounding gesture over his abdomen and nodded toward Trevin. Vanx quickly checked that Trevin didn’t see. He was relieved that the young man’s head was buried in Gallarael’s hair. He was glad for it. He didn’t think Trevin needed to know that his lover was pregnant. He gestured with an index finger sliding across his throat and hoped the wizard understood that he meant for him to kill that line of conversation.
Quazar nodded so slightly that someone else might not have caught it. “This liquid cannot be obtained easily, and it must be extracted from its host on one of the two nights the moon of Aur and her star maidens align. That is the only way the essence of the dracatode can be maintained.”
