CHAPTER 21

BASICS-ISH

Sometimes to learn, you just have to push buttons and see what happens.

“I really do appreciate this, Feller. Being cooped up for the last few days has me scratching at the walls.”

The gnome grinned wide, waving the comment off. “I should be thanking you, Wendell.”

“Me? Why??”

Pouring more water into both glasses, the gnome took a seat at the table. “You may need some company after a bad night, but I didn’t really want to go into town. My brothers don’t need me and with you stranded up here with nothing to do but go over your spell books, I thought it a chance to have some fun—and I was right!” He paused, then looked Wendell over, “You sure you’re okay?”

Shrugging, “I think so. Just a bad night. Never had so many dreams as I have in the last year. Always creepy or depressing though. Often the same dreams, over and over again. What gets to me, is they have always ended in violence towards me.”

The gnome pondered that a moment. “You know that could be another ability, right?”

Wendell frowned, “What, having nightmares?”

“Hehe, no. Have any of the dreams ever come true—even in part?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“More than once?”

Wendell hesitated. “Much more than once.”

Feller scrunched his shoulders and raised his palms up, “I’m just saying…you could have the ability to see things.”

“You make it sound like I’m crazy.”

“No, I’m saying you could be a sage.”

Wendell laughed, but there wa sa nervous undertone. “You’re saying stupid things, is what you’re doing. There is nothing profound about what I’m experiencing or seeing in my dreams.”

“Says the sage.”

Wendell sighed, “I should have kept my mouth shut.”

Hopping down from the top bunk, Feller did some deep knee bends and stretches. “Alright, alright, I just love the possibilities of magic and unusual things. Get it from my dad. He’s the most curious guy I’ve ever met. Always said ANYthing is possible with the right setting, the right people, and under the right conditions.”

The sun was shining bright, birds chirping so loud, the baby finch decided to take a place on the windowsill and answer back. Silas was already working in the barn below. Except for sneaking to the outhouse, the woodcarver barked at Wendell if his shadow appeared near the bottom of the steps.

“You guys sure are efficient.”

Feller lowered the glass onto the table and swallowed the water in his mouth. “What’s that?”

“You and your brothers. Always on the move. Still haven’t met Rue, and I thought, I don’t know—maybe it would be fun to get you all together and play cards tonight.”

The gnome considered, his face scrunching up in doubt. “Nnnnot gonna happen, I’m afraid.”

“What?” Wendell frowned, “Why not? We all bunk in the same room—I don’t think it a stretch to have a card game together. Is it?”

“No, not strange. It’s just…you don’t usually find us together. In the same place at the same time, I mean. Too crowded with such big,” he coughed, “personalities.” Grinning, “We love each other, don’t get me wrong. We look identical—but we all have different goals, talents, even temperaments. We’ve found going about our individual business has been the most peaceful way to live together.”

It kinda made sense. Not that Wendell had any experience with a twin, let alone two brothers. But if you have different goals, why not step out of the way so your sibling could pursue that goal? Right?

“I think you and Bartleby look exactly alike,” Wendell added. “Hope…that doesn’t offend you?”

Snorting, “Why would it? He’s a good looking guy!”

Wendell chuckled. “You guys even dress nearly identical.”

“Exactly the same, actually. But that’s on purpose.”

“On purpose?”

The gnome let a sly grin appear. “Because the one thing we all love to do as a matter of habit, is mess with other people’s minds. Especially our dad.”

They both laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Silas asked from the doorway.

Wendell and Feller snapped to attention at the old man’s tone, Wendell pointing a finger at the gnome. “The crazy gnome thinks I’m crazy.”

A single eyebrow popped up on Silas’s wrinkled face. “Are you?”

All Wendell could do was shrug.

“Then that means it’s time to get back to work,” Silas said even-toned.

“But I’m mortally wounded, Silas,” Wendell chimed back. “How can you expect me to work when I nearly lost my life to wild beasts? I’m at deaths door!”

The carver raised the other eyebrow to match. “You might be, if you don’t get on the projects I’ve listed here. My clients have left early, thanks to the diligence of Jan and yours truly, so you can come out of hiding.”

Feller winced, “Ouch, Silas. You are one tough task master. “

The old man gave them both a sly grin. “I’m a businessman, who’s has a schedule to keep. That schedule is not going to be jeopardized by two boys experimenting with sleight-of-hand tricks.”

The gnome abruptly sat upright. “These are not TRICKS, master carver! I’ll have you know that Wendell here shows some serious promise as a practicing mägo.”

“I’d prefer a prating employee…”

Feller stomped his foot on the ground in protest, “Seriously…you should see what this kid has learned to do, just today! I’ve never seen someone with this much natural talent.”

The excitement of the gnome gave Silas pause.

“You’re not going to ask me to pick a card.”

The gnome rolled his eyes.

“Oh alright,” Silas mumbled, “I’ll take my break here. You’ve got five minutes.” Hobbling over to the table, he kicked Wendell from his seat, plopped down in the chair, crossed his arms and locked his facial expression into stoic-mode. “Impress me.”

Clapping his hands like a giggling child, Feller jumped up and down, “Show him, Wendell. Show him!”

Wandering into the middle of the bunkroom…Oh boy. Here we go, Wendell, he swallowed hard. You can do this. Just remember the words and say them properly.

Stepping back to provide some space between Silas and himself, Wendell gave a small flick of his hand and imagined a perfect sphere of light hovering just inches over his head.

A sphere of light faded into existence, shedding forth a soft illumination of white light throughout the room.

Silas sat there, silent.

Holding perfectly still, Wendell then imagined that light to turn a shade of blue, like a blueberry.

The light obeyed.

Silas unfolded his arms.

Okay, Wendell…you’ve got this. Slowly….for effect now.

The sphere then took on a life of its own, and pulled the light in from the room

Not just the light the orb had projected…but the natural light already existing in the room. This caused the whole bunk room to fall into what looked like a deep shadow—the only light source coming from the orb itself…or the window to outside—which now looked more like a glowing sheet of glass.

Silas sat up stiffly. “Well I’ll be.” He looked between Wendell and the window, his attention finally resting on the orb overhead. “Never seen anything like this…”

“Oh,” giggled Feller, “it gets better.” Nodding to Wendell, “Show him.”

Imagining the light being caught in a tube, the orb took on a new shape—much like a spotlight. It quickly condensed into a beam, shining directly down onto Wendell’s head. The further he imagined the light traveling down the tub to the opposite end, the wider the beam grew at his feet.

Wendell looked up and stared directly at Silas for added effect.

“Goodness,” the old man breathed.

The light changed color.

Blue.

Green.

Yellow.

White.

Red.

“Okay,” Silas coughed, “that last one there is…creepy. Stop it.”

The orb then faded into nothing, and like a damn bursting and water rushing forth, natural light flooded in from the window .

“That was amazing,” Silas started, but Feller raised his index finger.

“More,” he said sharply. Motioning back to Wendell, he gave a showman’s bow.

Wendell grinned and raised both his hands out in front of him. Visualizing himself gripping smoldering embers, he whispered, “pälo”.

Both hands burst into flames.

Silas jumped upright. “Mahan’s backside! The boys’ burst into flames!” Looking about frantically, he grabbed the pitcher of water…

“Silas, no,” warned Feller, but it was too late.

Wendell got the full contents of the pitcher splashed in his face.

“He’s still burning!!” Silas cried out, looking about for more water.

“It’s okay!” Feller assured him, grabbing his arm, “He’s not hurt,…look!”

Wiping the water from his face, his hands still on fire, Wendell chuckled. “Going to take time to get used to this, Feller.”

The gnome chuckled, “Try again.”

Walking to the table, Wendell imagined water running over his hands, all except for his index finger. True to his will, the magical flames vanished, except for the single finger he’d focused on. He then used it to light the candle sitting in its holder.

The wick lit immediately.

Wendell let the flame on his finger go out.

Silas whistled. “That, son, was impressive!”

“Wait for it,” Feller smirked.

“There’s more?” Silas blinked.

“Not sure this is going to…”

“Just give it a shot, Wendell,” Feller encouraged.

Turning to face the water puddles on the wood floor, Wendell slowed his breathing. Picturing himself standing in a river, he concentrated on imagining the shallow waters running over his feet. Focusing on the sensations across his skin, he…

“Tarnation!” Silas squeaked, stumbling backwards into the table. “The water’s movin’!”

“Shhh!” Feller snapped in a hissing tone, “He’s concentrating.”

Silas clamped his lips together, eyes locked on the puddle.

You can do this, Wendell…

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Concentrate…

Imagining the sensation of water rushing over his feet, Wendell shifted the perspective and pictured the water running the opposite direction. Seeing the water gathering around him, swirling up and over his feet into a single, giant drop.

Silas fell back into his chair. “Mahan be damned,” he whispered.

Wendell opened his eyes.

The water thrown into his face was now gathered into a single, jiggling orb in the middle of the floor.

Feller, moving ever-so-slowly, snatched the picture from the table and knelt down, scooping up the water—rolling the orb forward with his free hand.

Wendell let the image go in his mind and the water relaxed, splashing up against the sides of the pitcher.

Looking to his employer, he waited.

Silas sat there, eyes wide as saucers, mouth ajar.

It wasn’t until the gnome slapped him on the elbow that the old man came to his senses.

“Pretty good, huh?” grinned Feller. He shook the water from his hand, “We’re working on that last part—but whatcha think??”

“Most,” Silas paused again, “…astonishing.”

“Astonishing?” jeered the gnome, “that’s all you can say? That was brilliant!”

“Feller.”

“That was amazing!”

“Feller.”

“That was…”

“FELLER.”

The gnome whipped around too Wendell, “WHAT?!?” Then softer, “I’m helping someone see what’s actually going on here! This is not normal.”

Wendell sighed.

“That’s not what I mean. You are so far beyond the curve of any mägo I’ve heard of, Wendell. You haven’t studied. You haven’t been trained, and here you are, doing advanced manipulation of the elements? Buddy, you have so much talent. This shouldn’t go to waste! You need serious training. I mean, professional level tutoring!” Tapping his finger to his bottom lip, “I know a guy. Old, yes…crazy, just a bit—but he’s the best I’ve ever seen.” Dashing to one of the trunks, Feller flipped it open, dug through the contents and yanked out a tiny brown book.

He frantically flipped through it.

“Once we get the furniture back to Andilain, I can put out some feelers and see if we can find this mägo. Not sure if he takes students, but he was a professor at the University of Magic—so I know he’s top caliber. Rue can negotiate the cost of lessons.” He looked over his shoulder, “You can pay for lessons, can’t you?”

Wendell snapped upright. “What? Oh. Yes, sure, I can pay for lessons. Uhhh…”

“This is gonna be so awesome on so many levels! Think of what you could do after a few years in school… You’re gonna be world famous!”

Blood drained from Wendell’s face. School? Years?!?  Again…? His hand went absentmindedly to his face, images of his nose being broken again flashing through his mind.

“Oh. OH! OH! OH!!” Dropping the book back into the trunk, both Fellers arms snapped up to the sides of his face as he let out a squeal. “YOU CAN PLAY OLEN!!”

“Now you wait a blasted minute,” Silas chimed in, his gruff tone finding root once more. “I’m not losing a good employee to that traveling con game!” He grumbled for several moments, then wagged his finger at the gnome, “I’m not willing to lose a BAD employee to that cow-dung competition!”

Feller snapped upright and went stiff. His eyes narrowed to slits as he peered up at the artisan. “I’m sorry. You’re calling one of the greatest magical contests in history a con game?”

The old man leaned over at the hips, jutting his chin forward, “Yes…I…am,” he snarled.

Without missing a beat, Feller’s expression changed to a beaming smile on his face. “Well—everyone’s entitled to their opinion! Not my fault you have questionable taste.”

“Why you little…”

Glaring once more, Feller took two quick steps towards Silas. “Little what?” Bearing a few teeth, he looked an awful lot like a frenzied badger. “What were you gonna say, Silas? Huh? Come on—what do you REALLY think about gnomes, eh?”

Anger washed away and a broad smile overcame the artisan. He stood upright, gave Wendell a nod and then looked back to the gnome. “I really think we have a difference of opinion about Olen. Most folks like it, but I’ve built those competition tables, boy, and I’m telling you, they’re rigged.”

Feller blinked a few times as the comment sank in. “Wait, you’ve built the centerpieces for the games?”

He nodded.

“Enchantments and all?”

Silas scratched his beard, “I’m no wizard,” and he gave Wendell a weaker smile, “but I was there when the enchantments were embedded into each chair and the center tables. It’s enough to make the hair on the back of your arms stand upright.” He looked between them, “There more than just a friendly game going on under those spells, boys. Heed by advice and steer clear.”

Again, the tapping of the bottom lip. “You…wouldn’t happen to remember which enchantments were placed not he tables, would you?”

“Oh for—you think I’m going to help you find a way to cheat a game I already detest?” He walked briskly to the door. “Wendell, that was impressive. I’m not a man of many words, but I’ve never seen anything like it and doubt I will anytime soon.” He paused then, gripping the door frame. “But I’ll say this: I’m mighty glad that power and ability is backed by a decent and honest heart.”

His expression was instantly replaced by a deep scowl.

“Now get your carcass out back. I have holes to be dug!”

****

Mouse let out a mighty yawn that could be heard across the front field of the farm, nearly knocking the baby chick off his broad head.

“Like I said before,” Wendell huffed, swinging the pickaxe, “you can always come…help me dig these…holes…if you’re so bored.”

The canine huffed and let his head fall with a ‘frump’ onto his front paws and closed his eyes.

The chick followed suit and nestled its head under a wing.

Wendell rolled his eyes at the canine. Suit yourselves.

The day was surprisingly warm for having experienced snowfall, but Wendell appreciated the sunshine. He appreciated the breeze over his skin, cooling the beading sweat across his new found muscles.

He appreciated the physical labor.

Never was one for work like this. Probably lazy I guess.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

That was a rhetorical statement.

Pausing to catch his breath, Wendell looked back at the line of holes behind him. Not bad for a few days worth of work! Nearly a hundred posts with notches cut, weaving about Silas’s precious orchard. They looked a bit wonky, but he’d done them the best he could, and Silas had seemed pleased.

That was all that really mattered.

In the distance, several evil goats bleated at him angrily.

“Yeah, well it’s your fault that I have to do this in the first place,” he called back, “You’re not supposed to eat the bark of the trees!”

“Talking to animals now?” Jan teased him. “Is this a new magical ability you’ve picked up today?”

Wendell scoffed, “Har, har. Just because I’ve been practicing magic doesn’t mean everything I do revolves around it. And no, I’m just showing the lest civilized side of my character, I guess. The one that talks to wild beasts.”

Mouse popped his head up and huffed.

“Oh don’t give me that,” Wendell replied, “If you don’t want to be called a beast, then come over here and dig a hole. You have the claws to do this in half the time it takes me.” Wendell looked to Jan, a sheepish expression on his face. “Mouse doesn’t count. I think he actually does understand us.”

Jan nodded, giving the dog a sideways glance. “Agreed. Best we keep our voices down.”

They both laughed.

“So you’re here to make fun of my communication skills?” Grabbing one of the posts from its pile, he held it tight in one hand, while pressing the fingers of his other hand against the wood.

Fire erupted around his flesh, instantly igniting the wood.

Wendell grit his teeth as his fingers sank through the post.

Jan shook his head, “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Wendell shook his fingers vigorously. “Some—but I’m getting better at it.” He noticed the odd stare and set the post down. “There’s so much I should know by now—magic-wise I mean. Don’t know if I’m doing this correctly or not, but the fence posts looked like it was an opportunity to practice what I could figure out.”

Jan nodded, “Sounds sensible.”

“Not sure why I can’t feel the pain of the magic flames, but do feel the natural flames I start. It’s confusing—so I wonder what I’m missing. Regardless, it doesn’t seem to be flamboyant enough for Feller.”

The lumberjack chuckled, “Well he’s quite the performer, if you haven’t noticed. Good news is, I’m here to expand your opportunities.”

“As in…?”

“As in Silas wants you to start learning what I do for him. Increase productivity, he says. With the celebrations in Andilain coming up in less than a month, he wants to have some unique wares to sell at market. I think he’s hoping to expand his client base, which is hard to imagine. That means he needs supplies.”

Wendell frowned, “As in….?”

“As in burl hunting.”

“Burl…wa-huh?”

Jan rapped a knuckle against the wooden post, “Folks around here call them ‘tree knots’. I hunt for them, find them, and bring them back for Silas to use in his creations. They’re special growths on trees, but you have to know what you’re looking for. Some might look like a burl, but they’re just soft rot. It’s good money for those with the skills to find the things.”

Wendell set the pickaxe against a large bolder and wiped the sweat from his brow, “And you do.”

Tossing Wendell a brown flask he shot the hero a grin, “And within the week, so will you.”

Wendell stared at the flask. “What’s this for?”

Jan turned and started walking towards the barn. “How do you like hiking?”

****

Jan stopped to catch his breath. Letting his pack slide from his back, he took a seat and pulled out the waterskin.

“There’s a grove up and over that next hill where I found a small grouping of burls on the trees.” Holding the skin high, he let the water drizzle into his mouth, then swallowed. “We’ll check those trees first, then move to another patch down by a stream. If they’re solid, we can bring back exactly what Silas needs for the project he has in mind.”

The path had ended more than an hour back. The trees had become so dense, it was near impossible to walk in a straight line for more than a few feet at a time.

“How big are these burls?” Wendell asked, wiping the sweat from his own brow.

Jan leaned back against a stump and stretched. “They vary in size, but we’re looking for at least two, about three times the size of my chest.”

“That big?” Wendell glanced around at the density of the trees and shook his head in disbelief. “How are we supposed to get a chunk of wood that size back to the farm?”

Jan smirked and patted the side pouch on his pack. “Not one…at least two. And we’re going to tie ropes to them and drag them back.”

Wendell plopped down beside him, huffing. “You’re kidding.”

Jan offered him the water skin. “Nope.”

Wendell took the skin and gave the grove a second glance. “Weaving in and out of this place?”

Jan grinned wide. “Yup.” He raised one arm and flexed, “Makes muscles.”

Rolling his eyes, Wendell took a swig of water. “Yay.”

“Once you get the hang of this, Wendell, you’ll…,” but Jan clamped his mouth shut. Reaching over, he gave Wendell a firm squeeze on the shoulder and then quietly rolled to one side of the stump and placed an index finger against his lips.

Wendell swallowed the water in his mouth, his eyes flickering about, tracing the treeline.

Then he heard it.

The snapping of dry twigs.

Rolling onto his belly, Wendell waited in silence, looking in the general direction Jan was facing.

Another snap.

…followed by the crunching sound of leaves.

In the distance, where the trees were thickest and the sun struggled to touch the ground, a lone wolf stepped into a clearing.

Nose down, the deep grey canine sniffed along the forest floor, taking a step, sniffing, then taking a few more. A few moments later, it squatted in the leave and relieved itself.

Female.

Wendell watched Jan’s hand go to his side sheath, where a heavy blade lay tied to his thigh. There his hand rested, never pulling it free. The lumberjack simply watched in complete stillness, his breath calm and slow through his nose.

Tha-Thump-Thump.

Wendell’s heart beat faster.

Trouble?

But no answer came.

Another wolf, this one stepping silently through the underbrush came into view.

Bigger. Golden brown fur, with large ears erect on its head.

Wendell flinched hard when Jan tapped his shoulder and made a nodding motion off to their left.

A third wolf was posed, bold as the noon day sun, staring straight at them.

It was nearly twice as big as the first two animals.

Black as midnight.

Wendell let his breath out calmly, but remained still nonetheless.

Hello there friend.

“That’s the one I healed,” he breathed out as softly as he could manage.

Jan looked doubtful, and lifted his finger to his lips for silence.

Before Wendell could nod—all three wolves darted across the grove at full speed and vanished into the tree line.

“What the devil was that all—,” Jan flinched.

“Damn you, Varick,” bellowed a deep voice from the woods.

Both Wendell and Jan sank as low as they could into the leaves, pushing themselves behind the large stump.

“Don’t blame me, you fool—I told you we should’ve waited until they settled down to rest. That alpha’s wounded bad from your arrow. It’s going to need rest eventually.”

Wendell couldn’t help but smirk.

Says you. Keep running, Black. Stay far away from these idiots.

“Well at least we have one down,” chuckled Mailian.

Stabbing his spear into the ground, Varick pulled a water skin from his shoulder and took a swig. Handing it to his partner, “A barbed arrow to the throat will do that to a wolf, big brother—but that doesn’t help us when our goal is to trap breeders.”

Mailian, a giant of a man with a heavy brown beard woven into a single point, held onto the skin and surveyed the landscape. “Females won’t do us any good. You can’t breed them with a Keep Hound, ‘cause they tear up the pups once they’re born. We have to get our hands on that alpha to make our money.”

“Now you tell me?” Varick snapped. “Then why did you shoot the damn beast in the first place?”

“In the leg! To slow it down!!” Then calmer, “It doesn’t need all four limbs to sire a litter of pups, Varick. Mahan’s soul—we could cut off ALL its legs for all I care, so long as we have the seed to use.”

“Do I LOOK like I know animal husbandry?” Snatching the skin back, Varick growled, “I can skin anything you give me, but I ain’t playing matchmaker with beasts!”

The older man gave his younger brother a sneer. “You will for a hundred gold a pup.”

Jan gulped and gave Wendell a wide-eyed look.

“H-how much?” Varick stammered.

Mailian yanked the skin back, his grin swallowing up his hairy face. “One…hundred…gold.”

“Yer lying. That’s a kings price. Even if you got one of them Lords to suggest it—they’ll never pay.”

“Have it in writing.”

Varick choked, “Who would pay that much for a damnable dog?”

Mailian took a swaggering step and leaned in close, “Did you notice the two owned by that old carver? This village don’t know how wealthy he is. Those hounds are rare as rare can be. Royalty and nobles will pay a fortune for an intelligent beast with the muscle and lifespan of a Ridge Hound.”

“For what? You could raise an army of hounds for that coin!”

Mailian shrugged, “Think of the army of hounds you could breed with a single stud! Besides, Varick, does it really matter? We trap one, breed it just once and we won’t have to spend another winter in the hills, ever again.” Jabbing his brother in the shoulder, “Four walls, a fire to warm your bones and a full belly each and every night. How’s that sound?”

Varick snatched the spear from the ground and gripped it tight. “It sounds like that alpha needs a few more arrows in its backside.”

They both laughed.

Varick took the skin back from his brother and secured it on his hip. “What about the boy?”

Mailian scoffed, “Sawyer?”

“Aye.”

“He’s a fool. We help him with his stupid plan and throw him a few coins. He’ll stay quiet.”

Both men broke into a solid stride through the grove, following the direction the wolves had fled.

Jan and Wendell silently shifted their bodies behind the stump as the men passed.

“And if he doesn’t?” Varick asked.

“Then we pay the tavern girl a little visit of our own to make sure he does.”

Wendell shot Jan a concerned look.

The air exploded with Varick’s laughter. “This plan getting better and better.”