The Wizard’s Gamble – Chapter 4

III

That night, young Sindha had the most strange dream.

She dreamed of her father wandering alone in the woods. Heavily equipped for the relentless cold, eyes fixed on nothingness and with the face of a desperate man.

He had come to an unattended crypt in the middle of a place where the trees were all twisted in the same exact manner. Her father approached the crypt and took out a knife.

Then she woke up suddenly, feeling cold, yet it didn’t seem like one of the coldest nights, something that she dismissed abruptly as soon as she noticed that her room had a second door where before it was only the simple wooden wall. A door that irradiated an unnatural orange glow from the other side.

She was scared, but became utterly terrified when the mysterious door opened with sheer violence and flooded the room in the orange glimmer. And then, there were no words capable of describing what poor Sindha felt when her sheets were thrown out of her bed and her ankle grabbed by some invisible force.

She screamed as she was dragged into the orange light, she cried when she felt countless hands touching her, probing her in places where she wasn’t ever touched before.

She heard the words “The gift of your father” in her mind and saw what seemed to be the continuation of her dream: her father cutting his palm and spilling blood in the snow, making a circle, whispering “I will give you anything if you prevent the Reaping of my daughter.”

Sindha died there, but was calmly sleeping in her bed when morning came.

When Hayden woke up, he felt like it had just begun one more ordinary day. His wife would be outside, bringing home bread from the pits, Sindha would still be in bed, or maybe attending to her daily personal cares already, and he would just rise up, greet his family, grab one fluffy and still warm bread and make his way to the pens, to take the village’s herd to the fields where grass wasn’t all smothered by snow.

A simple, ordinary day that he would be content to live.

Only he wasn’t home.

The memories of the recent events came back to him and away went all the good feelings.

However, he wasn’t uncomfortable at all. The bed was large and had linen sheets that felt tremendously soft and welcoming to him; the room was made of grey stone blocks and had no decoration, having a big fireplace that made it warm enough so that he didn’t felt any cold, despite being naked. And that was another thing: why was he undressed?

He glanced at the other side of the room and saw his clothes hanging on a rope, which was enough to make him remember that he fell…no, that he was thrown at the river.

Quickly, Hayden put himself together, dressing and verifying that his belongings were neatly arranged at a corner. He also noticed that there could only be one place on all Lone Watcher that could have a stone room with a fireplace.

He quickly trotted through corridors that were conveniently lit by torches, walking through doors that were also conveniently opened where others were shut. He didn’t mind, didn’t care at all, for Hayden had come into a large hall with a long wooden table and a fireplace. Most importantly, there was a man sat in an armchair at the other end of the room, awaiting him.

And there stood Averon Harnatis, master Wizard, the only one in all Zhedra with knowledge in the mystic arts of magic and many other things regarded as unknown. Sit in a large wooden chair, one that looked as stern and uncaring as himself, yet polished and elegant as his clothes.

On the opposite side, stood Hayden. Desperate, anxious and bewildered like a starved man before a juicy piece of meat. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t manage to say a word.

‘Yes, I am the Wizard,’ announced the man in the wooden chair with a voice of authority, tempered with despise. ‘I know you were looking for me and you shall speak when I do consent it. Are we clear?’

This was far from the reception he imagined. He was expecting something more otherworldly or an aged figure with a long white beard and words of great complexity and wisdom, not an audience with the King. Even so, the wizard’s apparent bad temper would not be a concern to him, he came there for a greater purpose, so he simply nodded to the request.

‘Good. This is a good start.’ Said the man, not showing a bit of a smile. ‘Please, sit.’

There was a chair in front of him, facing the long wooden table. There was food in a plate right in front, but Hayden couldn’t care less about it, he just picked the seat as he was ordered and stood there, eyes fixed on the robed figure.

The wizard sipped some wine while examining his guest.

‘You may also eat, if you wish to.’ Hayden remained silent and didn’t touch the food. ‘You also may try the wine.’ He raised the cup to show clearly what he was speaking about, ‘You don’t have it in Zhedra, since the climate doesn’t allow grapefruits to grow but it’s a tasteful drink made of fruit. You might find it very out of the ordinary.’

This time, the guest looked at the glass with the dark red drink near him. It made him think if that was a liquid ruby and grabbed the cup. The smell was seductive and fresh, but he had to place it again on top of the table.

‘I didn’t come here for this.’

The wizard didn’t show any displeasure with it. ‘I know why you are here. We’ll speak about it very soon. For now, you should eat. You must be hungry.’ He pointed at the food in front of Hayden, which now the later regarded in a different manner, for he was hungry after all.

‘Go on and eat’, invited the man, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘So after all you have to go?’

The question was made by Bren, also called by Old Man Bren, though he wasn’t as old as his white hair and beard made it look; to his son, Conrad.

‘I’ve been chosen for the King’s Ward’, he replied, a tall and sturdy young man, that had always the privilege of having a better life and a much better nutrition than the regular Zhedra boys, thanks to his father.

‘Don’t you look at me with that face. You’ve always wanted to be part of those bastards.’ He had a sort of pretended scorn in his voice, ‘The brave souls who protect the land at the King’s will, bringing justice to the settlements and even banishing Devils of the Frost. You really believe you’re fit for this?’

‘I am. I know you’re worried, father, but this is the path I must follow.’

Actually, Bren wasn’t worried at all. It was he who made the arrangements for his son to enter the King’s Ward. The youngster was already strong and capable in battle, plus his father made certain that he would had “special treatment”: he would be sent to a bastion near the capital, one that was always well provided with stockings and food, well away from harm, where the boy would indefinitely be on guard duty.

Eventually, knowing his son as he is, Conrad would get bored from the never-changing routine, but by then, his ever-watchful father would have already provided another position, one that a more grown-up Conrad, with different goals other than battling monsters and caring for villagers, would prefer.

‘Well, as your mother used to say, a parent can do only as he can do. Your cart is waiting’ he pointed to a very simple wooden carriage with two guards and pulled by an ox, that awaited downhill to take Conrad to the capital. The boy gazed at it somberly.

‘What’s the matter? That’s your ride, your destiny. Go on, son!’

That was the problem: Old Man Bren, the most known person in the region, everyone Conrad knew respected him and behaved like having an unpayable debt to him. He was in every village celebration, in each family’s reunions, in every tax collector’s visit, simply everywhere. There were a lot of responsibilities for owning a windmill, it seemed.

However, Conrad had always the feeling his father would rather be doing his meddling in the lives of others than caring for his only living relative. Always disregarded his presence, saying he had important matters to take care of in the village, but while Conrad saw the families of his friends struggling to survive and enjoying every moment they had together, he and his father had the most comfortable household, had always food, but his father was always wrapped in his own world. He ended up thinking that maybe now that he will be away, that his father might care or show some affection, which came in the form of a pat in the back.

‘I know, I know,’ he said nonchalantly, ‘this is the hardest moment. When you come back here you’ll be a full-grown man and you will say that this was the best decision of your life!’

Only it wasn’t.

The meal was carried out mostly in silence, with Hayden always keeping his eyes on the wizard whose mind would surely be astray during that moment.

‘How long do you have it?’ he asked out of nothing. Hayden, who was eager to speak with the wizard, felt terrible since he didn’t get the question.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘For how long are you like… this?’ He gestured at the slim figure of his guest.

‘I’m sorry, but could you please be more specific?’

‘Hum… maybe since you’re born,’ he said, completely disregarding the request. ‘Did you know that I’ve found you on the riverbank? Soaked and passed out?’

‘Yes, I figured so.’

‘Did you know that I’ve seen you for the first time five days ago? That I’ve taken your body as dead by then and that only yesterday I did come near it to send it back to the water and found you to amazingly be alive?’

‘What?’

‘Yes, my friend, you were drenched in freezing water out there for four days and nights. And you are… not… dead.’  Averon emphasized the last word, starting to think that maybe not his guest’s body, but the brain had died after all.

However, Hayden’s brain was very lively and very worried. Five days since the wizard has spotted him. How many before that? How many left until the Reaping?

‘You are cursed, did you know that?’

If that was supposed to shock him, it failed completely.

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Who cast such a curse on you?’

Hayden, with his thoughts all centered on his daughter, couldn’t take this any longer.

‘Life itself, maybe. What does it matter? I didn’t come here to remove curses or get lucky charms!’

The wizard just stared unknowingly at him and, although Hayden didn’t say it, he saw that Averon didn’t really know the reason for his visit.

After a while of facing each other in silence and making unspoken opinions and suppositions in their minds, Averon decided to break the ice.

‘Very well then, what brings you to me?’

‘I want to save my daughter.’

‘I’m not a healer. You should seek one, they can do much better than me.’

‘She was chosen for the Reaping,’ he stated and took a deep breath, ‘I don’t know what to do. I know it’s an honor to become one with the Provider, but my family… I can’t take it… I can’t accept it!’ he proclaimed with tears washing his cheeks.

The wizard rose from his seat, and Hayden was ready to do the same until Averon gestured him to stay there.

‘Tell me your name,’ the tone was not the one of a question but of an order.

‘Hayden Rov.’

‘And this daughter of yours?’

‘Sindha Rov.’

‘Give me a moment, please.’ The wizard went out of the room through a nearby door, closing it behind him.