Dragon's Treasure - 6. Jeremy

“Do it again, Ulee, and this time, don’t make so much noise. Concentrate the magic, and don’t let it get away from you,” Ian said. The boys were walking down a game trail through the verdant woods. Ian, who was in the lead, swung a quarterstaff, occasionally batting back a vine that encroached upon the trail.

Ulee’s brow furrowed as the boy thought an illusion; a giant spider appeared a few feet in front of Ian. The older boy, accustomed by now to Ulee’s illusions, and able to see the magic with which they were limned, was not startled, as he had been when Ulee had first produced an alligator. Calling on his own magical talent, Ian sent a bolt of light through the spider, which instantly disappeared.

“That was perfect!” Ian said. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

The underbrush crouched more closely as Ian continued to beat his way down the game trail. Rounding a corner, the boy stared at where he expected to see the trail continue. There was nothing but dense brush.

“Ulee, we’ll have to turn…” Ian’s voice broke as a vine dropped from overhead and looped around his arm, the one holding the quarterstaff. Before Ian could react, another vine darted from the nearby brush and looped around his other arm.

“Ulee! Run! Run away!” Ian called.

Ulee ran, not away, but toward Ian. He drew his dagger to cut vines. He’d not taken three steps, however, before a mass of vines looped around his arms and legs. He fell heavily against Ian, and would have knocked the older boy down except that Ian was now immobilized by vines. More vines quickly wrapped themselves around both boys.

“Ian! I’m afraid!” Ulee said.

Ian called loudly, “Help! Please, someone, help!”

A voice, soft as moss and brittle as a winter twig replied, “No one will hear you, and here you will die.”

“But why?” Ian asked, looking around, trying to see the person who spoke.

“Because you’re mages, and the Red Mages killed my parents,” the voice answered. “I heard you talking.”

“But we’re just boys,” Ian called. “We didn’t kill your parents. We are fleeing from the men in the red robes and their soldiers!”

The voice was silent, but the vines, which had continued to wrap the boys, grew no tighter.

At last, the voice came again. “Why should I believe you?”

Ian sighed. “Truly, I can think of no reason. However, before you kill us, come, look into my eyes and I will tell you of my hatred for the Red Robes. If you cannot believe the truth of that, then leave us to die.”

“You’re a mage and the boy is an illusionist,” the voice said. “How do I know what I see will be true?”

“Only you can judge that,” Ian said. “At least, let us see you.”

Ulee stared as a figure separated itself from the brush. It was a boy, dressed in green and brown trousers and vest. He wore short boots. His hair was brown streaked with walnut. His arms were the color of aspen bark. Ulee realized that he’d been looking at the boy for several minutes, but hadn’t seen him.

“Are you a dryad?” Ulee asked.

“Don’t be silly,” the boy said. “I’m a druid, not a dryad.”

The boy was no taller than Ulee, and when he stepped close, he looked Ulee directly in the eyes. “Tell me,” he said, “tell me about the Red Robes.” The softness of the moss had left his voice, and only the brittle twig was left.

“The Red Robes stole children from my village. I was so afraid of them, that I nearly killed myself by running into a storm. They killed—or caused the death of—my teacher. We flee them. They are evil, and I will not serve them, or their prince, or their darkness.”

The boy—the druid—was silent as he looked at Ulee. Then he walked around the boys until he could look at Ian. “Tell me about the Red Robes,” he said.

Ian answered, “Their agent tried to kill my grandmother, who was my first teacher. Because of them, I had to leave my family, lest I bring danger to them. It was they who chased us from the home of our teacher and friend, and who brought about his death. Neither will I serve them.”

“If I release you, do you promise not to hurt me?” the boy asked.

“I promise,” replied Ian.

“Me, too,” echoed Ulee.

The vines dropped from the boys’ arms and legs and retreated into the brush. The trail, which had disappeared into the foliage, once again ran through the woods as far as the boys could see. Ulee stared in amazement; Ian just shook his head. And we thought we were mages! he thought.

*****

“Is it all right to light a fire?” Ian asked. “I only use deadfall wood, and I’m very careful.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jeremy asked.

“Well, you being a druid and, well, fire in the forest…I just didn’t know,” Ian stammered.

“Fire is not always bad,” the druid—Jeremy—replied. “There are some trees that cannot germinate unless their seeds are nurtured in flame. Fire clears out the underbrush and the weaker trees without killing the older, stronger trees.”

Ian took the last of the cheese and bread from his pack. “Will you share our supper, Jeremy?” he asked.

Jeremy added a kerchief full of purple berries to the food on Ian’s blanket. “Thank you, yes,” he said. “I haven’t had bread or cheese in ever so long.”

While they ate, Jeremy shared his story. “I lived with my parents and two older brothers in a cot in the mountains,” he began. “One day the Red Mages came. I was playing in the forest, but I saw them riding along the path. I took a shorter route to warn my parents. But the trees stopped me! Mother or Father must have known…they made the trees keep me away from the cot. When the trees let me go, I ran home. My parents were dead. My brothers were not there. The Red Mages killed my parents and took my brothers as slaves. I have lived in this forest for five years. I had to leave the mountains. They’re too cold in winter, and the pine trees don’t have as much power as the oak—” Jeremy stopped talking, abruptly.

“But how do you live?” Ulee asked.

“The forest is full of food, if you know where to look. These berries aren’t the only thing that grows here. I take nuts into the village markets in the fall, and trade for clothes and blankets. I take mushrooms in the summer and herbs in the spring. I stay with a farm family one winter and with a different family the next.”

“What do you do?” Ian asked. “Besides collecting herbs and mushrooms and nuts, I mean.”

“Practice killing Red Mages,” Jeremy said.

Ulee and Ian sat silently, chewing their food and digesting what Jeremy had said.

“I understand that Ulee created the spider, and that it was an illusion,” Jeremy said. “And Ian destroyed the spider with a blast of magical fire. But the fire didn’t burn the trees, and not just because they were wet. It didn’t seem to affect them at all.”

“That wasn’t really fire,” Ian explained. “It was only a little sunlight caught in a web of magic. Not enough even to warm your face. And it wasn’t the light that spoiled Ulee’s spider. It was the magical energy that held the light. It broke the web of Ulee’s magic.”

Jeremy was silent for a long time before he spoke again. “You know an awful lot about magic, don’t you?”

“Oh, no,” Ulee said, and then looked at Ian.

Ian nodded. “It’s okay, I think, to tell Jeremy.”

Ulee continued. “We’ve only been mages for less than a year. Well, I have. Ian for a little longer. We spent the winter with a man who was a real mage, and he taught us some things, mostly how to be quiet when we made magic, and how not to kill ourselves, and what not to do.” The boy paused. “He died. He killed the Red Robes who had come for us, and their soldiers. He did it by killing himself.”

The three boys were silent as Ulee and Ian remembered, and Jeremy digested this story.

“You thought we knew a lot about magic,” Ian said, “but what you did to make the trail disappear, and the vines hold us. Well, that’s a lot more than we can do.”

“That’s because I’m a druid,” Jeremy said. “Mother and father, and my brothers taught me. Every day I learned something. And, father said it was in my blood.”

“Innate magic and training…much more than we had,” Ian said. “No wonder you’re so good.”

Jeremy had walked across the glade to a small stream and was washing his hands and face.

“Hedgehog,” Ian whispered, “do you want to ask Jeremy if he will travel with us to Kassel? He could help us a lot in the woods, and we could help him, too, with our magic.”

“I was afraid of him, at first,” Ulee said, “but I think he’s nice. If he tries to kill a Red mage by himself, he’ll probably be killed. But maybe the three of us?”

Ian nodded. “I’ll ask him.”

“Jeremy,” Ian said. “Ulee and I travel to Kassel. We go there for refuge, to find a place where we can grow up, grow stronger, and learn more about our magic. We go there to find allies in our war against the Red Robes.

“Ulee and I think we have found our first ally in that war. Will you join us? Will you become our companion in this fight? Will you help us, and let us help you, get the justice we all seek?”

Jeremy was nonplussed. “I don’t know…” he said. “I…”

“I went too fast, didn’t I?” Ian said. “Josephus warned me about that. He said I was impetuous. And then made me memorize what that meant.” Ian giggled. “If it’s not too impetuous, will you share yourself with me?”

“And me!” Ulee said.

Jeremy had not had sex in a very long time; Ulee had shared with no one but Ian. Ian’s experience was limited to his brothers and a few boys from farms near his home. The evening was one of exploration and joy. When at last Ian fell asleep, he knew what Jeremy’s answer would be.

*****

Jeremy led the way through the forest. “I know the paths,” he said. “The trees reveal them to me. They talk to each other, you know.”

Ian nodded. He didn’t know that, but nothing Jeremy said surprised him anymore. Ulee, however, was in awe of the druid. I could get a little jealous, Ian thought. Except that I know Ulee and I are forever friends. I’m not sure he knows it, or would understand it, but I can seeit. Thank you, Josephus, whoever you are, if you are someone else already. Thank you for showing me how to seewhat is around me.

By mid-morning, they began to see groves cut into the forest. Some were nearly barren; others held oak trees and walnut, chestnut and beech in various stages of growth.

“This is not natural,” Ian said.

“No,” Jeremy said. “These are groves created by charcoal burners. They harvest, and they replant. “We will find their home, soon. Oh, look. There it is. They will welcome us.”

“But they look very poor,” Ulee said. The hut was of wood. Its roof was thatch. A small garden surrounded it. There was a privy in the front, and what Ian recognized as a spring house in the back.

“And they cut down trees—” Ian protested.

“Druids and charcoal burners have always been close,” Jeremy said. “You see…”

The Druid and the Charcoal Burners

A hundred lifetimes ago, on the edge of the greatest forest that ever was, lived a charcoal burner and his wife. They were very old and had been alone for many years. Their children and their children’s children’s children had left home long ago. Their work was hard. They harvested four pounds of wood to produce one pound of charcoal. They covered the wood in mounds of dirt so that it would burn to charcoal and not to ash. They took the charcoal on a tumbrel cart to the village where they traded it to the smith and a jeweler and received flour and cloth. The charcoal burners kept a small garden whose vegetables eked out the flour. Thus, they were able to survive.

Although the smith required charcoal to make and mend implements, and although the jeweler required charcoal to make and mend ornaments, the two charcoal burners were shunned by the people of the village. The charcoal burners were dirty, and smelled of smoke. They were thin and their faces were pinched with hunger. Their clothes were shabby. The prosperous people of the village, who were clean and whose clothes were new and whole, turned up their noses at the two charcoal burners.

As it always has and always will, the weather changed, and years of plenty became years of drought. The villagers’ farms dried up and hunger stalked the village. The drought affected the charcoal burners, too. Their little garden produced barely enough to sustain them. What’s more, the Smith and the Jeweler were not willing to pay as much flour for charcoal.

One day, when the charcoal burners gathering wood, a small boy walked out of the forest. “I will help carry your wood if you will give me a meal,” he said.

“Thank you for offering to carry the wood,” the charcoal burner’s wife said. “But you are much too small to carry such a heavy load. However, if you will follow us to our home, we will share our lunch with you.”

The lunch was meager, but spiced by the diners’ hunger, it seemed splendid, indeed.

The boy thanked the charcoal burner and his wife for sharing what little food they had, and said, “I am a druid. With my magic I will grace your garden.” He raised his hands and gathered the Great Magic that is the province of druids and cast it upon the garden. Immediately the garden burst forth with vegetables and fruit. The charcoal burner and his wife turned to thank the boy, but he had disappeared. Except for the bowl from which he had eaten, and the wondrously growing garden, there was nothing to show that he had been there.

The charcoal burner and his wife, knowing that people in the village were starving, loaded their tumbrel not with charcoal, but with fruits and vegetables from their garden, and walked to the village.

The people of the village, although they wondered at the food and marveled at the story, would not accept the gift from the charcoal burner, saying, “We have despised you, and sneered at you, and even laughed at you, and our guilt will not allow us to accept your gift, lest it become a curse.”

The charcoal burner’s wife said, “The children have not despised us or sneered at us or laughed at us. If you will not eat the food, give it to the children so that they may grow to become strong.”

The villagers bowed to her wisdom, and fed their children, teaching them with each bite that they should despise no one simply because he is dirty or poor or smells of smoke.

*****

“Every druid’s child, and every charcoal burner’s child, knows that story,” Jeremy concluded. “Besides, we have nuts and berries, and mushrooms to add to the pot. They will be glad of our visit.”

Jeremy was right. The charcoal burner welcomed the boys even though they did not know that Jeremy was a druid and even before Ian and Ulee emptied their pouches of nuts and berries and mushrooms onto the table. The charcoal burners were dirty, and smelled of smoke, but there was a bath in the spring house behind their hut, and the dirt and smell washed away easily.

The next morning, after the charcoal burner and his sons turned to the south, and were walking into the woods, Jeremy paused and raised his hands before he turned to follow Ian and Ulee. Behind the boys, the purple, green, and red flowers of amaranth opened at the stoop of the hut.

*****

“We’ll need money if we’re going into the town,” Jeremy said. “We need clothes, food, other stuff. We could work…barter, but that would take too long, and we may not be able to find the right kind of person.”

“We have a little money, Ian said. “Our teacher had some…it became ours when he died. How can we get more?” Ian asked.

“My family used to sell things…rare herbs, stuff like that, from the forest. I’ll show you,” Jeremy said. He looked around. “Look,” he exclaimed, “That’s Goldenseal. It’s rare around here. And listen! The oaks tell of truffles!”