THREE

THE LONELY MAGE

Jenkano had not been in contact with another human being for ten years. His animals were good enough company; the cows, pigs, chickens, and Mageye, his dog. Jenkano had called him this because his eyes sparkled like many faceted gemstones, never appearing the same colour twice. Jenkano’s horse was no ordinary mount either. True to his name, Windrider could run like the wind, but it had been many years since Jenkano tested the animal’s true speed or strength. The old mage had few places to go, and now only rode the magnificent white stallion for exercise.

Having studied the art of spell-binding for most of his life, Jenkano knew how to convey thoughts into the minds of others, but he wasn’t a mind-reader. That art was reserved to the few highborn mages in direct communion with Makim, the Goddess of Miracles. Jenkano found himself wondering if she still existed. Without her believers, Makim would become a lost God, at the mercy of the other deities.

Jenkano had no fear that Navin, God of the earth and elements, or Lorin the Goddess of human emotion would harm her. He also doubted that Fortis, God of strength and courage would turn against her.

Only Serpon, God of death and darkness would try to steal her magical powers. Were He to succeed, Avion would be plunged into darkness and despair. That was why Jenkano feared the dying out of his race, but he was too old and heartsick to fight any more. That role should fall upon a younger pair of shoulders, but with every passing generation, it seemed his kind grew weaker and more ineffectual.

It hadn’t always been like this. Jenkano remembered those wild, heady days of his youth when his talents had been in strong demand. One incident always remained clear in his mind.

A pair of huge red dragons had made the treacherous journey across the Noiva from their homeland. Blown off course they ended up on Avion’s shore. Frightened and famished, they wreaked havoc to the coastal settlements, scorching entire townships with their fiery breath. Jenkano and his brother, Lorenso, along with several other mages had been dispatched to take care of the monsters.

It soon became clear to the mages that the dragons weren’t evil, merely confused and injured. They refused to let the magic users near them, and it had taken all their combined forces to prevent them from killing any members of their party. In the end there had been no alternative but to put the dragons out of their misery. They succeeded in killing one by raining ice spears down on her, forcing her into the ocean.

The other, however, fled inland, his great wings felling entire forests, his fiery breath cindering farms and homesteads. The wizards caught up with him in the Mirion mountain ranges above Scarthe. They did the only thing they could. They forced two entire mountains down on him, imprisoning the beast under the rubble.

There he’d lain these past hundred years. No mortal remained alive who would remember the feat, and all Jenkano had in memory was a portion of the first dragon’s wing sheared away by one of the ice spears. They were heralded as heroes, but time and his own regret had helped form the hermit personality in him. Jenkano loved all living creatures. He doubted he could kill an animal now, even in self defense.

Nothing of such magnitude had threatened Avion since, and within Jenkano’s own lifetime the mages had scattered to live out the rest of their lives in obscurity. Without practice and constant tutoring, Jenkano predicted that their race would probably die out within a generation. His brother’s only son had left before his apprenticeship had even begun. Without a proper education, he would be nothing more than a herbalist, or showman, entertaining children with the most basic of spells.

Jenkano sighed, knowing he would have to get up before the day got too much hotter. Riddled with arthritis and suffering from a constant hacking cough, Jenkano depended on herbs from the jungle to get through the day.

It took a good half an hour for his herbal brew to take effect, and while he waited, Jenkano sat in the heavy wooden chair beside the table, coughing and cursing the aging process.

At one hundred and forty-five, he was stooped and unsteady on his feet. Like all mages who weren’t afraid to show their true denomination, Jenkano wore his hair long, his snowy braid almost reaching his waist. His chocolate brown face, however, was smooth and relatively unlined. His special potion kept his skin like that of a man half his age.

His bamboo and rush cottage consisted of two rooms; living and sleeping quarters combined, and his laboratory. He had built the barn of sturdy redwood almost forty years ago. This was where he headed once his limbs were mobile enough to make the short walk across the damp grass.

As always, his animals heard his leather sandals shuffling across the grass, and they greeted him with oinks, neighs, moos, and of course great wet licks from Mageye. Jenkano scratched the large brown and white dog behind his floppy ears.

Reluctantly Jenkano entered the barn. He knew that by the time he was through, he would be stiff and sore again. The old mage wondered how much longer he would last. He had nothing to live for any more. Why was he still alive?

Forcing those maudlin thoughts from his mind, he set to work. After milking the cows, he led them into the pasture behind the barn. Then he collected some eggs, and opened the latch for the pigs to run into their outdoor pen. There he filled their trough with left-overs. They rushed to devour the swill.

His old bones creaking, Jenkano filled Windrider’s feed bag, and noticed the horse could do with some more straw. He started towards the hay loft, a chore he was beginning to loathe. He dreaded climbing that ladder, fearing his arthritic limbs would give in half-way, or worse still while he was up there, thus making it impossible to get back down.

What needs to be done must be done, he reasoned, and slowly made his way up the ladder. He didn’t dare aid his progress with magic any more, his ability to spell-bind as weary as his bones. He’d miscast far too many spells of late. Once on the wooden ledge, he picked up the pitchfork and set to work, pushing the loose straw down into Windrider’s stall.

As he swept the fork further into the corner, he thought he saw the straw move of its own accord. Foolish old goat, he reprimanded himself. Now you’re seeing things. But as he jabbed the pile of hay, it yelped, a head appearing in its midst.

Jenkano stood with the fork poised in mid air, staring in disbelief at the strange creature cowering there. With a jolt, he realized it was human. At least he thought it was human. It had a head and arms, one protecting its face from the spikes of Jenkano’s tool. But the mage had never seen such pale skin before. Neither had he seen hair the colour of straw, probably why he hadn’t noticed it until it began retreating from him.

For the first time in ten years Jenkano spoke, surprised he still possessed a voice.

“Wh- who art thou?” he croaked. “What do ye in my barn?” And how in the name of Makim did ye find this place? His home was about as isolated as could be. Then another thought struck him. How did this strange individual sneak up here without my knowledge? The animals made the slightest noise if something was wrong, but Jenkano had not heard a sound last night.

The person - Jenkano still hadn’t ascertained whether it was male or female - lowered its arm and a pair of frightened green eyes peered up at him. Jenkano had never seen a human with such bright eyes before. In fact he had never seen anything like this before. Shoulder length yellow hair tumbled in curling waves over its ears, and its arms were long and stick-thin.

Jenkano decided it was male despite its flowing hair. Perhaps because of his boldly formed features. Long straight nose, square, angular jaw, high, prominent cheek bones. Women simply didn’t have faces like that. Despite his apparent height, the stranger was young, no more than fifteen or sixteen.

The youth sat up, exposing his bare chest, confirming his gender. He wore nothing but a pair of tattered, knee-length breeches, and Jenkano saw his blistered feet and scraped knees. He looked half starved, his ribs clearly outlined under his fair skin. And he’d been beaten many times, new and old scars marring the smooth skin of his shoulders and probably also most of his back.

Suddenly he started babbling in a tongue the mage couldn’t understand. Despite the clipped nature of the language, his voice was deep and pleasing to the ear. The magician had traveled the length and breadth of Avion, and had heard most of the continent’s dialects, but none sounded like this. In fact the youth hadn’t spoken a single word Jenkano could comprehend. Maybe he had to communicate with his mind, like he did with the animals.

Who are you, and where did you come from? he thought, sending the message straight into the youth’s head. It made the lad jump back in surprise.

My name is Alecsis, and I walked along the shore till I came to your rope ladder. Before this I swam to the shore. Nearly drowned... Where am I? What is this place?

Used to vague outlines of feeling, the stranger shocked Jenkano by the clarity of his answer. But then this was another human being, capable of rational thought and problem solving.

He must have been aboard a ship, but where had it come from, and where was it heading? Were there others who looked like him, and if so, where were they now?

I do not know. I cannot remember anything before the ocean.

The young man was reading his thoughts, Jenkano realized with a jolt. How on earth did he do that? As far as he knew only very experienced mages could read minds, and only those who wanted their minds read. In his urgent desire to find out the truth about this strange individual, Jenkano had been projecting his thoughts directly to him.

All I know is my name. I have forgotten everything else. No memory before the ocean. He hung his head, yellow hair obscuring his thin, pale face. The gesture said more than words. He was tormented by the loss of his memory.

How did you lose your memory? Jenkano asked.

When I fell in the water - I think.

No wonder he was in such a battered state. This part of coastline was a rugged, unforgiving place, the jungle full of venomous beasts that attacked at the slightest provocation. How on earth had the young man survived?

So you say your name is Alecsis. He was certain he had mispronounced the strange name, but as the youth failed to correct him, he continued. And you remember nothing of how you came to our shore?

That’s right.

Jenkano knew that this kind of memory loss was usually caused by shock or a hard thump across the head. In all likelihood Alecsis had suffered both. The boy intrigued him. For the first time in many years, Jenkano wanted to know more about another human being.

How did you get in here? he finally asked. Why didn’t the animals make a sound?

Alecsis frowned, his pale brows coming together over his strange eyes. When I unlatched the door I let the animals know I wouldn’t hurt them. I talked to them, particularly your beautiful white stallion. What’s his name?

Windrider, Jenkano answered. On account of his speed.

Alecsis’s eyes widened in surprise. He asked me to ride him, ride me like the wind he said. That’s truly amazing.

Yes it is, Jenkano agreed, considering the stallion was a one man horse. The youth had been endowed with incredible animal empathy. There could be no other explanation. Oh yes there could. Mageblood might run in his veins. Jenkano rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Could he be magekind like me? His power over the animals? His ability to read my thoughts so clearly?

There was only one way to find the answers to those questions, and that was to get to know Alecsis better. Jenkano never thought he would speak again, but he knew he couldn’t send the youth away simply because he liked his own company. Perhaps the young man wouldn’t want to stay long anyway.

But Alecsis showed no desire to leave.

As the weeks slipped by, and he grew stronger from Jenkano’s good food, all he wanted to do was learn the Avionan language and culture. He was an excellent student, and never complained when Jenkano chided him, usually a result of his own impatience.

Once his injuries healed, Alecsis took over the heavy physical chores. He chopped wood. He rethatched the cottage, harvested and replanted Jenkano’s rice crops. Every day he exercised Windrider. The sleeveless tunic and leggings Jenkano sewed for him soon stretched like a second skin across his broadening chest and shoulders. Jenkano even made him a pair of sturdy ankle-boots out of the slain dragon’s hide. What use did he have for the enchanted leather now?

“I shall treasure these boots with all my heart,” Alecsis whispered in his heavily accented voice. They always spoke now. The continual use of words helped Alecsis learn to speak sooner than the direct, but easier communication with the mind. “Will ye teach me how to fight like that?” he asked after Jenkano told him the story of how he and his friends bested the dragons.

Jenkano shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry. My magic wielding days are over. But I can show you how to use a sword should ye end up in a mortal conflict.”

Dusting off his rusty old broadsword, Jenkano polished it vigorously to make it worthy of Alecsis’s use, then handed it to him without ceremony.

The young man was a natural. He took to the blade as though he was born with a sword in his hands. Jenkano reasoned that someone must have given him lessons once, someone quite skilled in the art.

Trying to get Alecsis to remember his past had proved a futile endeavor. Jenkano had used several powerful hypnosis techniques, but to no avail. Alecsis’s past was destined to remain a blank slate.

“Yer skill with the sword will aid ye greatly in your travels,” he said one day, watching Alecsis beat the humid afternoon air into submission.

“We’re leaving here?” Alecsis asked, lowering the weapon.

“You will,” Probably very soon, he added silently, his own heart aching at the thought.

Alecsis’s frown deepened. “Ye’re sending me away?”

“Ye shall leave of your own accord.”

That night Jenkano dreamt of Lorenso. Even though his brother was a good twenty years his junior, he looked older. Not having the need for healing herbs to ease aches and pains, his dark brown skin had succumbed to the ravages of time and turned as wrinkled as an old berry. Like all mages, he too wore his hair long and braided. It had grown thin and gray, and his careworn face was lined with sadness as it shimmered into view before Jenkano’s eyes.

“What ails thee, brother?” Jenkano asked in concern. This was how they communicated, in their sleep, their thoughts and feelings travelling many miles through the still night air.

“I miss my son,” Lorenso told him.

“He still hath not returned?”

“Nay, and I fear he might approach some dark sorcerer for his education. What fledgling has the patience and courage to cast intricate spells that require hours of tutoring?”

“I know of one,” Jenkano answered.

Lorenso’s dark eyes widened. “Tell me more, brother.”

“He is a stranger, a fair child from another world. He calls himself Alecsis, but remembers naught of his past. His tumble into the ocean robbed him of his memory. He has been here with me these past few moons.”

His brother managed a weak smile. “He must be special indeed.”

“I have never met another like him. But my time draws nigh. Perhaps I should send him to you. He is clever, patient, and knows how to wield a sword.”

Lorenso’s mouth twisted wryly. “The king seeks strong fighting men. There is much unrest here. The lords are fighting. Highwaymen abound, and many wagonloads of nightstones are disappearing. Trade has virtually reached a standstill. Were your Alecsis to join me, he would be seconded into hunting down these vile creatures.”

“T’would do him good. He needs the company of others, young men… and women...” His brother’s image grew dim and fuzzy, meaning their time together was drawing to an end.

“You really are dying?” Lorenso asked softly.

“Aye. Not much longer now.”

The sadness in Lorenso’s wise dark eyes deepened. “What will I do when ye’re gone? All our magefriends are dead or vanished. The only love of my life died in childbirth. My son hath deserted me, and now ye’re nearing the end of your time on earth...”

“That is why I will send you Alecsis. He is all I have to offer you.”

Lorenso sighed. “Then send him to me, but I know not what life will be like for him here. Everything is in turmoil. Sometimes I envy your tranquillity.”

“I would have it no other way... May Makim keep you safe. Goodbye, brother dear.”

“Goodbye, Jenkano. Sleep well.”

Jenkano slipped into peaceful darkness, but when he woke, the agony in his joints was unbearable, and he coughed blood instead of phlegm. What he’d feared for some time now had finally came to pass. His herbs no longer dulled the pain.