Book of Heroes: George of Sedona I - 9. Breaking the Trail

Chapter 9: Breaking the Trail

By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
—Second Witch in Macbeth, Act IV Scene I

For two days, the road ran next to the river. On the third day, the river turned south and then east to the sea. By mid-morning, Arthur and George were riding through forest thick with oak and cedar. The road rose and fell gently. Just before dusk, Arthur called a halt. “I don’t think we’ll find a farm or village tonight, George. Looks like another night in the woods,” he said, as he led the way off the road and into the trees.

“I don’t mind, truly I don’t,” George said. “Listen! Do you hear that?”

The boys stopped their horses and Arthur listened carefully. “A gurgle. A spring or creek? You continue to amaze me…your ability to find water!”

They dismounted and led the horses in the direction of the sound. Before they’d gone a furlong, they enter a glade. From a pile of rocks on one edge, a spring bubbled into a pool from which a thin stream flowed into the woods. “Perfect,” George said.

“A bit cold to bathe in,” Arthur suggested.

“You’ll just have to warm me up afterwards,” George said.

*****

“Watch, now. I’m going to set the wards,” Arthur said. George still could not see the great magic, but Arthur showed him its use whenever that was practical. While George looked through Arthur’s eyes, Arthur sent boy magic into his fingers. He then swept his fingers through the magical field, gathering strands of energy and spinning them into a ball. Gesturing, he pressed on one side of the ball, pushing it until the ball collapsed into a hollow hemisphere. “Like a tennis ball cut in half,” he whispered to George, feeling the boy nod.

Arthur stretched the hemisphere until it was big enough to cover the glade in which the boys had spread their bedroll, and pressed the hemisphere down so that the bottom edge sealed against the ground. He continued to push the hemisphere outward. It grew larger and larger until it was about two miles in diameter. No matter how big it got, and no matter that hills and trees stood between the glade and the hemisphere, Arthur—and through Arthur, George—could still see it. Arthur anchored the hemisphere in place. “Here’s the thread that’s tied to me,” Arthur explained. He’d done this before, and George knew that if anything larger than a bird or a rabbit penetrated the hemisphere, Arthur would awaken instantly.

*****

George’s eyes glazed and his breath came in short gasps as he felt Arthur’s boy magic penetrating deeply. When Arthur caught his own breath, he pulled George into a tight hug. “Look through my eyes,” the tween said. “See your magic in me? Look. See my magic in you?”

George was still amazed that sex could fill him and his partner with power to do magical things. The first night that George had been in this world, Arthur had used magic to wash George’s hair and bathe him…giving George an erection, in the process. That night, Arthur and George had exchanged their magic for the first time. The next afternoon, Arthur began to show George how to use that power to clean himself. George had learned that, and much more. But he was still frustrated by his inability to see or use the great magic.

A few miles away, the Dark Elf hesitated. His compass had begun working again; he was approaching his prey. But, as he rode through the night, the compass abruptly stopped working. He’s stopped for the night, and set wards that are interfering with the compass.

The Dark Elf gathered power and sent it out, cautiously. There. He’s not five miles away. I have him, now!

The Dark Elf stepped slowly and carefully through the trees. He’d followed the road until his senses indicated that he was within a few hundred yards of the White Mage’s wards. It would be better to break through the wards among the trees. If I fumble, he may think it’s an animal for long enough that I can recover… He stepped to within inches of the ward, seeing it with Mage Sight. Too complicated to negate entirely…but if I can make a hole—

Just at that moment, a fox, frightened by the Dark Elf’s presence, darted through Arthur’s ward. An owl that had been watching for the fox swooped down. The elf, startled, swung his arm, breaking through the ward at a third place.

As predicted, Arthur woke instantly, and just as quickly dismissed two of the three events. The third, however…the stink of Darkness struck Arthur’s brain. The image of the pursuer that had haunted the edge of his perception for days was at last clear. Arthur grabbed George and stood, pulling the naked and befuddled boy close to him. “Stay close, George. Stay very close,” Arthur said. George instinctively hugged Arthur tightly.

Arthur reached for the power of the magical field and felt for the starlight that fell on the treetops and on the grassy floor of the glade. Focusing starlight from acres and acres of forest, he willed it to flow to that point in the shield that had been penetrated by the Dark Elf’s arm. If he is as Evil as he seems…, Arthur thought.

Arthur was right. The results when the Light struck the Dark Elf were silently spectacular. Although the point of impact was a mile away, Arthur—and George through him—saw the Light strike the Dark Elf, burning away his flesh molecule by molecule, until nothing was left.

George was shaking, and it took several moments for Arthur to realize that the boy was crying. “George, shhh,” Arthur said, holding the boy tightly and kissing the top of his head. “It’s all right, he won’t hurt us…”

“No…,” George said between sobs. “He’s dead! You killed him!”

“Oh.”

Arthur held George until the boy stopped crying. He urged George to sit on the blanket, and sat facing the boy, their knees touching. Arthur offered water from the spring, and George drank deeply.

“How do you feel, George?” Arthur asked softly.

George hiccoughed, and then said, “I…I’m scared. It’s not like the troll you killed. He was killing people…he might have killed you…It’s not like the old elf. He killed himself. And Hayden wouldn’t let me look too closely at him. I never saw someone die just by magic…I never even thought about someone dying like that. You killed him…” The boy’s voice grew softer, “You killed him, didn’t you? And it was so easy…”

“Yes, George, I killed him. But it wasn’t easy. Oh, the magic was simple. I gathered starlight and focused it on him. He was so Evil that the Light, itself, was enough to destroy him. Had it not, the heat would have burned him to a cinder. But killing—even someone that Evil—is not an easy thing to do.

“I learned that a long time ago, George, in Viet Nam. I learned it again when I first killed someone on this world. They weren’t that much different, really. The first person I killed in Viet Nam was with a bayonet; the first one here was with a sword. They were both close enough that I could see life leave their eyes.

“In Viet Nam, I used to keep count of those I killed—those I knew I killed. I didn’t count nighttime firefights, only the ones I saw die. It wasn’t pride, or anything like that. It was almost as if I believed that I’d be held accountable. Then I woke up one morning and realized that I’d lost count. At first, I was angry, and then disappointed. Finally, I realized that I’d been playing a stupid mental game with myself. I didn’t believe in either sin or karma, and I had enough to do simply keeping alive. I stopped counting.

“The first time I killed on World, for an instant I wanted to tally the number. But only for an instant; then, I realized that here the rules were quite different.”

Arthur paused. How did I get to this point? It’s not helping George.

Aloud, he continued. “In any case, I don’t count. But, I’ve found that it’s still hard to kill, and I hope it never gets easier.”

“I’m sorry,” George whispered, but Arthur shushed him.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Arthur said. “There’s no way you could have known what would happen or how you would feel. It’s okay to cry…”

“That’s not what I’m sorry for,” George said. “I’m sorry because I doubted you. I’m sorry because I was frightened of you because you had killed…I was afraid of you…can you ever forgive me for being afraid of you?” The newly risen moon shone through the trees and struck the boy’s face. He looked as if he were about to cry again.

Arthur gathered the boy in his arms. “Of course I forgive you. Will you forgive me for frightening you? It’s my job to protect you, and that means better preparing you for things like this. I didn’t do my job well. Will you forgive me?”

“Oh, yes,” George answered. Arthur kissed the boy, and felt him stirring.

The next morning, George seemed untouched by the events of the night before. But only until breakfast was over. Then he asked, “That thing, whoever it was, he had the advantage of surprise; why were you able to attack him first?”

“His surprise was spoiled by two animals—a fox or a vole, I think, and a big bird, probably an owl chasing the fox. They broke through the wards a second or two before he did; that’s what woke me up. That made a big difference.” Arthur didn’t tell George that he believed that somehow the force that maintained balance between Light and Dark was in part responsible. Whether it had heightened the senses of the fox and owl, or dulled those of the Dark Elf, the result had been the same. Arthur had a fair chance, rather than being the victim of surprise. Still, Arthur wondered: were his defenses strong enough? If the Dark Elf had surprised him and attacked first, would Arthur have survived long enough to counterattack?

Arthur and George found the Dark Elf’s horse tied to a tree near his now empty clothes. They gave water to the horse, and allowed it to graze with their own horses. Arthur examined the man’s possessions, and then explained how they had been followed.

“When we came through the gate from your world, we created a very loud noise—one that I could not control. The gates are very, very noisy. Apparently, this fellow heard it, found where the gate had been, found our trail through the woods, and followed us. He probably also heard the magic I used to deflect the rock fall in the mountains. That’s probably what led him to Berkshire,” Arthur explained. “Do you recognize this?”

George nodded. “It’s part of the parachute cloth I used to make my costume…and those are my underpants! The label’s been cut out.”

“He probably dug these out of the refuse pit at Ulan Woods…that’s what makes me think he heard the noise of the gate. He used Magic of Contagion, and created a compass out of your clothes…a compass that pointed not to north, but to you. That’s what led him here. I was foolish not to think of that, and should have burned your costume.

“He was on the Dark side of the forever fight between Light and Dark. I’m afraid that I’ve underestimated the amount of danger that we are in.” I’m also afraid, Arthur thought to himself, that it’s you—more than me—who is drawing these attacks.

This time it was George’s turn to be the comforter. He hugged Arthur tightly. “I’d rather be danger with you than anywhere else in the world…this one or any other.” Wordlessly, Arthur returned the hug.

Arthur gathered up the dead—and vanished—elf’s possessions and loaded them onto the horse. “He won’t need these anymore in this life. If he expects to have them in his next life, he’s going to be disappointed.”

“This life? Next life?” George asked. “Do you believe in reincarnation or something?”

“Of course—” Arthur began, and then paused.

“Something else I’ve forgotten, George: that on your world, not everyone knew about reincarnation.”

“Knew about it?” George nearly shouted. “Knew about it,” he continued more calmly. “Do you mean it’s real?”

“Umm,” Arthur said, “where to start?”

After a moment, he continued, “Elves hold life both more precious and less precious than humans, generally. More precious, because they live so long, and there’s something especially sad about a long life cut short. Less precious, because Elves tend to have stronger links with their past lives, and—”

“So,” George interrupted Arthur’s explanation, “people on World believe in reincarnation.”

“Not just believe,” Arthur replied. “We know…not believe, but know…that mind can exist independently of body. We know that ghosts or spirits survive the death of the body. We know that our spirits are reborn in another body some time after the death of one body. How do we know these things? The evidence is overwhelming.”

“How can you prove life after death—and reincarnation?” George asked.

“George, did you ever doubt that Earth…the one you grew up on…was round, a sphere?” Arthur asked.

“Well, no,” George answered. “But what’s that got to do with it?”

“I remember this example from my first high school science class…science never proved that the world was a sphere…or approximately so. On the other hand, there was an awfully lot of evidence that it was a sphere…including accounts from orbiting astronauts. Assuming that the world was round also explained a lot of things, including the shape of its shadow crossing the moon during an eclipse, and the gradual disappearing of ships as they cross the horizon. In short, the evidence that the world was round was so overwhelming that to believe otherwise would have been foolish, at best, and a perversion at worst.

“Same thing with evolution. There were religious fundamentalists who tried to make people believe that since it was called ‘the theory of evolution,’ it was ‘only a theory,’ and therefore should have equal status with their religious superstitions. No one who knew anything about science could believe that; nevertheless, the fundamentalists managed to convince many other people—foolish people, ignorant people, people who were incapable of thinking for themselves. The facts, the truth, pointed to evolution as not only the best process, but overwhelmingly as the only process that could have resulted in humankind…and the rest of life on Earth.

“Same thing with reincarnation, here. The evidence is overwhelming, and reincarnation explains a lot of things better than any other explanation could. And that’s the essence of science and proof: a theory is something that all the facts fit and which explains things better than any other notion does.”

When Arthur stopped for breath, George asked, “And people remember these past lives?”

Arthur nodded, and George continued, “What do you remember?”

“What do I remember? Well, I remember that once I was a blacksmith in a village in the mountains on the southern border of Arcadia. It was during one of the great wars…not a recent one, because the prince’s name was wrong…but perhaps the one before that. I spent most of my life making armor for soldiers of the Light, and died in battle when the village was overrun by Evil. I remember a lot of the magic of the Smiths’ Guild—how to make alloys, and how to use magic to shape a sword, or a plowshare.

“I remember being a sailor in a clinker-built coastal freighter, that was blown off course during a storm and which landed on the Eastern Continent. It was called Beringia, then. I don’t think anyone goes there, now. I remember some of the magic sailors used to navigate, and scry weather.

“I remember being a rider in a band of desert warriors, I think on the western side of this continent, but it could have been on another…I was pretty ignorant of geography, then.”

“Will I be reincarnated?” George asked. “You looked at my DNA and saw this world’s antigeral genes; can you look at my soul, too?”

There was a long pause. Arthur looked steadily at George when he answered. “No, George, I cannot look into your soul, but neither can I believe in a universe in which you would not reincarnate and meet again those you loved.”

*****

The Dark Elf’s horse, tack, and sword fetched nearly 30 guineas at a village two days north of Bowling Green. His other possessions worth saving sold for another two guineas. Arthur felt fortunate to have found a buyer. A thane—a former general of the army whose holt had been awarded for his service to the crown—was eager to have the horse and gear to outfit his oldest son, who was preparing to join the army. A quality horse, this Dark Elf had, and quality weapons. Wonder who he was, and who will be looking for him, Arthur wondered. In any case, we’ll head east and muddy the trail before turning back south and west, just in case.

At first, George was uncertain about selling the dead man’s things. “I know he was bad, but is it right to take his stuff?”

“Right? Well,” Arthur said, “he tried to kill us. You saw that he was Evil. His horse would have died if we had left it in the woods, and his sword would have rusted and his other things decayed. We do no harm by taking them; we do some Good by ensuring that the horse has a master to care for it. We will use the money to support ourselves, and we serve the Light. Yes, I think it was right. And, for what it’s worth, it’s the way in World. A defeated foe’s horse, weapons, armor, and other possessions belong to the victor. It’s a custom of long-standing. He surely knew of it.”

Arthur elected to spend several days in the thane’s village. “The horses need rest and real food. So, as a matter of fact, do I.” George was pleased. The bath water at the inn was hot, and the food was something more than pemmican, hard cheese, and flatbread. The first evening, he and Arthur were alone in the bath.

“You said that he heard the noise of the gate…and in Barbicana, the old elf attacked me with noise. And my syn…synesthesia makes me hear magic as sound. You said every mage within a hundred miles heard you blast the landslide.” The expression on George’s face turned these statements into a question.

“Anytime a magic user uses magic, it makes a noise,” Arthur said. “It’s not a noise that can be heard with the ears, but one that can be heard or sensed by other magic users. It’s like The Sound of Magic, only loud and discordant. When the spell is small, the noise is slight; when the spell is powerful, the noise can be very loud, especially if the magic user doesn’t try to control it.

“We are surrounded by that noise, and I suspect that you’re unconsciously filtering it out. Listen, now,” Arthur instructed, directing a little magic to George to help him hear.

“It sounds, I don’t know, like Eroica,” George said.

Arthur nodded. “I know that one. I like it a lot better than his 9^th symphony. Let me know if the sound ever changes.”

George nodded soberly.

*****

Elsewhere, in a place where the sun would rise hours before it reached Arthur and George, a creature whose appearance betrayed its gnomish genotype looked away from a mirror, grateful that the starlight gathered by the White Mage had been directed so carefully. Had it not, the mirror would have conveyed more than the image of the Dark Elf’s death. He—for the creature was male—turned the mirror face down on the stone workbench. Best not use that again, for a while. Best not use an elf, either, the creature thought.