Wolves of the Gods

'…Which we still advise-' Gundaree poked in…

'…We might consider helping the Master,' Gundara completed.

And the beast shouted, 'Hate!'

Palimak saw Khysmet rearing up, hooves slashing the air, bolts of lightning cracking out. He saw his father reach behind him, scrabbling at the saddle, then plucking a javelin from its sheath beneath the cantle lip.

As his father reared back to throw, he saw the javelin tip flare. The flare leaped to join the crackling fire from Khysmet's hooves, shooting up toward the beast.

Palimak dug down, clawing past layers he never knew existed, finding untapped reservoirs of magical power. The effort took everything the boy had and he fell to his knees.

'Now!' the Favorites shouted in chorus.

The beast was reaching for his father when Palimak cast the joining spell.

He was so empty he had no mind, no soul of his own. Everything was focused on the spell. He leaped onto the spell's back, clutching as tightly as he could, magical winds buffeting his face. Palimak collided with his father's spell, burst through the walls, then was swept onward and upward at a heart-stopping speed.

Then he entered a never-never state where he was floating like a high meadow moth on a spring wind.

He could see all the parts of his father's spell, a wondrous flock of soaring birds with more colors, it seemed, than there were rainbows in the world to make them.

Palimak turned, relaxed and lazy, still speeding along, but feeling easy about it. Time to think. Time to consider. Time to marvel at the complex beauty of the spell, but marveling more at the elegant simplicity of its core.

His father's spell made him feel as if he'd just lost his childhood. Everything before this moment had been a game. A silly little boy amusing himself.

Now he could see what real magic was. See it and admire it through the eyes of an adult. He was confounded and excited at the same time. Tone deaf at one moment, acute musical hearing the next, with all those magical notes spurting out like a harp played by a madman. But then it all made sense. He could see it, hear it, feel his bones throb with it.

Magic as it should be.

And he thought: So that's what it's like to be a wizard!

His father shouted a warning and Palimak kicked away just in time, spirit self plunging back into his mortal form. Then he was a small boy again, watching the white hot spear sink into the beast's face.

It thundered agony, grasping the magical spear between both mighty hands. The beast heaved, screaming louder still, then there was a great blast of light and the beast exploded into flames. The force was so great it hurled Palimak away and for a moment he thought he was his spirit self again, flying with the sorcerous winds. Then he struck, landing heavily on his back, the air knocked out of him.

He fought for breath, desperate to get up, to get moving before the beast struck back.

Then he found his father standing over him and relief rushed in along with returned breath and he shuddered in all the air he could hold. Safar knelt beside him, trying to smile to cover worry and feeling his limbs for signs of injury.

When Palimak could speak again, he asked, 'Did we get him?'

Safar glanced over his shoulder at the scattered pieces of the beast. Hot tarry lumps, big and small, with white bits of shattered bone showing through.

He turned back. 'We sure did, son,' Safar said, scooping him up. 'As good as any pair of wizards could.'

Palimak grinned weakly, proud to be included. A moment later he was aboard Khysmet, nestled against his father and they were riding slowly after the caravan-back in order now and climbing the hill.

He was tired but his mind was abuzz with all kinds of thoughts and possibilities roused by his experience.

'I want to learn to be a real wizard, father,' he said. 'Like you.'

'I've already been teaching you, son,' Safar said.

Palimak frowned. 'Maybe so,' he said. 'But I don't think I've been listening real well.' He sighed.

'There's so much to know,' he said, thinking of the elegance of his father's spell. 'So I'd better hurry and learn before I get too old.'

Safar chuckled but didn't answer. Then a sudden thought struck Palimak and his eagerness turned to dismay.

'I think I'm going to be in big trouble,' he said.

'I kind of doubt that,' his father said. 'You're the hero of the hour, son. You saved the caravan.'

Palimak shook his head. 'But I had to do something really bad,' he said. 'I was mean to my grandfather.'

'He'll forgive you,' Safar said. 'Whatever it was.'

'He wouldn't listen to me,' Palimak went on. 'So I put a spell on him and made him do what I said.'

Safar looked down at him, his eyes unfathomable. Palimak thought he even looked a little sad. Then he saw a glitter in the depths.

'When I was going to wizard's school,' Safar said, 'they had a special class for first year acolytes called

'The Ethics of Magic.' Naturally, it only lasted a week, and no one ever attended.' He snorted humor. 'In fact, it was the only class at the Grand Temple of Walaria where students were expected to cheat. You could buy the tests from the teacher for six coppers. Four if you were on scholarship.'

'Did you cheat, Father?' Palimak asked. 'Did you buy the test?'

'I confess I did, son,' Safar said. 'I didn't have any choice. The master of the course didn't attend either and the only way you could take the test was to buy it with a set of answers. But I did feel guilty about it.

And I suppose that's the best you can do. Keep a good, healthy sense of guilt at hand.'

'And then still do what you think have to do?' Palimak asked, troubled at this new and very difficult world being revealed to him.

Safar squeezed his arm. 'That's the closest to the truth that I can get,' he said.

'But what about the gods?' Palimak protested, thinking of the lessons he learned at the Temple in Kyrania. 'Don't they tell you that one thing is right, and another thing wrong?'

'I've never had one tell me,' Safar said. 'Only their priests. And priests are no more honest than the rest of us. Maybe even less, since there's so much temptation about when you make your living from sin.'

Palimak was amazed. Each level of this larger world obviously became more complicated and confusing the higher you climbed. Or maybe he was going down. Maybe to know wasn't up, but down, down, and then down some more. All the way down a long flight of dark stairs that descended forever.

He looked up at the boiling skies of the Black Lands and the grinning Demon Moon.

'What's wrong with the gods, anyway?' he said, a little angry and self righteous. 'Can't they see? Can't they warn you? Are they asleep or something?'

Palimak felt his father suddenly tense up. What had he said wrong? Then Safar relaxed.

'I'll tell you a riddle,' he said. 'When you figure it out, you'll know as much as anyone in the world about what the gods are up to.'

'I'm good at riddles,' Palimak said. Then he frowned in exaggerated demonstration. 'Go ahead,' he said.

'My riddle machine is all the way on.'

And so Safar recited the Riddle of Asper:

'Two kings reign in Hadin Land,

One's becursed, the other damned.

One sees whatever eyes can see,

The other dreams of what might be.

One is blind. One's benighted.

And who can say which is sighted?

Know that Asper knocked at the Castle Keep,

But the gates were barred, the Gods Asleep.'

Palimak listened closely, setting his sharp little mind to work on the pieces. But no matter how hard he tried, the puzzle refused to make itself clear. Finally, he gave up.

'I suppose you have to think about it a real long time,' he said.