The Azure Wizard (12 page)

I will endure the fiercest weather

All dangers our land has to offer

I will endure loneliness and fear

I will endure hardships unnumbered

In hopes that none may have to

By the Golden Eagle I vow

To live a good life and promote safety in the wilds

In honor and duty.

Thus Ethan Skalderholt was made a Forester of the Three Baronies.

Immediately after he was sworn in by Bethany, May turned on her heel and marched from the office. With a gracious nod to the grandmaster of the Foresters Ethan turned to follow the young woman. After leaving the office he jogged up to stride beside May, with her swift stride, as she marched down the shadowy corridor towards a stairwell to the second floor of the compound.

“It’s, uh, nice to meet you, May,” remarked Ethan happily, yet slightly unsure if conversation with the obviously-disgruntled Forester would be wise.

She said nothing in reply but trotted down the stairwell, her woolen cloak bouncing upon her shoulders with each heavy step. Ethan let out a sigh at the top of the stairs and then plunged down after her. He followed her in silence through a different corridor, a long hallway lined with about a score of thick dark doors on each wall, which he hadn’t previously seen when he and O’Dell had hiked to the third floor of the headquarters. May suddenly spoke in a hollow tone reminiscent of an emotionless recital of some pointless information, “This, Ethan Skalderholt, is our Living Hall. This is where you will sleep and bathe. Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

Ethan’s belly rumbled slightly as the two of them strode down the hall towards the far end. When they reached his door and she pushed open the portal, Ethan asked conversationally, “Where do we eat, milady?”

May whirled around and said in her matter-of-fact tone, “Don’t call me milady, if you please. My name is May. I’m a Forester, the same as you, Ethan Skalderholt.”

Ethan was getting tired of the woman’s attitude. He was exhilarated beyond anything he had ever experienced thus far in his twenty-four years. He had just been sworn in as a Forester of the Three Baronies. His dreams had been fulfilled. He didn’t know if becoming a Forester was the right thing for him to do, nor the smartest, but it had happened and he was going to make the most of it while it lasted. But this woman, May, the daughter of the grandmaster of the order, was immediately ruining the experience for him.

“Okay sorry, ‘Your Highness May’. Listen to me for a change. I don’t know what the story is beyond your tremendous attitude and frankly, I don’t really care. I’ve been through fist-throwing drunks, Deep Wolves, and that Troll beast these last couple weeks, and don’t have the patience for the grumpiness of some spoiled brat that has barely left Greenwell City. We are going to be working together for the next few weeks, and I am eager to get started with my new duties, but to tell you the truth you’re making me regret coming here. If I hadn’t already met Foresters such as O’Dell, Kraegovich, and my own grandmother, Foresters with such good dispositions and kindness, I would most likely already be gone, back to where I could be respected in my homeland. So if you would be so generous, tell my where in the Soul Wastes I can get some damn food!”

Ethan stood there facing her with his fierce yellow eyes ablaze and May returned a somewhat vacant look of her own. She then said softly in her Greenwellian accent, “The, uh, Mess Hall is just off the foyer on the ground floor.”

“Alright, thank you, May. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to take a bath.”

At that Ethan whirled around and strode into his chamber, slamming the door behind him. May stood alone in the hall for a moment before striding at a slow pace the way she had come.

The water pumping systems in the headquarters of the Foresters seemed like the ancient enchantments of the myths of old. His small chamber located on the second floor of the compound had a metal hand pump at the top of a vertical pipe that ascended out of the hardwood floor near the back wall. Underneath the faucet of the pump was a large wooden bathing tub, and when Ethan was alone in his room and prepared to get a bath ready he was somewhat confused about how to go ahead and do this.

In his home in North Ridge when one wanted to bathe, a monthly occasion for most inhabitants, you had to go to the village well that tapped into an underground spring and make numerous trips to and from the well to your abode with buckets of cold water. When you had enough for a bath you were to warm the water in your hearth or cooking oven or, more commonly one would just bathe in cold water. It was simply a long and arduous task meant not to be enjoyed. At least when he was in Lumberwall, which was built over a piece of land churning with geothermal activity, the buckets of water were taken from hot springs and thus did not need to be warmed.

But here, in the Forester’s Compound, things ran much more smoothly. The pumps that sprouted from the floor of each living chamber descended into a sublevel of the building to a very large iron basin, perhaps holding about eight-hundred gallons of water. This basin was secured directly above a large mound of flame and embers that was continuously stoked by non-Forester employees, common folk that also kept the iron basin filled to the brim with fresh water. Thus when Ethan began curiously pumping the handle he was shocked and overjoyed to find that piping hot water poured out into the washtub.

In only a few minutes it was filled and steaming and Ethan stripped down. His slender form was streaked in dirt and he felt oily with sweat and grim. As he eased himself slowly into the hot water he noticed a small table next to the washtub topped by a small silver dish. As he found a comfortable relaxed position in the tub, leaning back against the worn wood and sitting in a loose cross-legged position, he lifted the dish and examined its contents. It held a bar of white soap that smelled faintly of roses and an intricate wooden comb engraved with the eagle sigil that was emblazoned on the front of every Forester’s cuirass.

He quickly scrubbed himself down with the soap and washed his hair so he could spend some time relaxing, despite his hunger. Suddenly there was a gentle knock on the door to his chamber; a simple square room that was empty but for the small cozy bed topped with dark green wool blankets, a small wooden dresser, and the washtub. “Yes, who is it?” inquired the new Forester as he moved his long wet hair out from in front of his face.

“It’s May,” was the quiet reply.

Ethan suddenly felt guilty at having snapped at her in the hall, and he responded in a cheerful voice, “What is it?”

“I have your uniform and equipment.”

Exhilaration and excitement flooded into the core of Ethan’s being and he shouted, “Just one moment. I’ll be right there!”

He practically bounded from the wash tub, snatching up a soft towel of thick white cotton, and he wrapped it around his lower torso. He quickly opened the door to see May, her face still expressionless, and she was holding a bulky wooden crate. If Ethan wasn’t holding the towel around his nakedness he would have offered to help her carry it into his chamber, but as he was he just hurriedly stepped to the side and held the door open with a smile. May walked into his chamber, her elbow brushing across Ethan’s firm, wet abdomen, and with a grunt she dropped the load onto his bed.

Ethan stood there wondering if he should close the door or leave it open, but he finally decided to just leave it slightly ajar. He strode across the room towards her with the light of the room’s single small window reflecting of the droplets of water on his pale skin. “What do we got?” he asked excitedly.

Her eyes quickly darted up to his before she dropped them back to the crate and its contents. “Well,” she said as she lifted out the first piece of gear, “this is one of your most important pieces of equipment, the Cuirass of the Forester.”

Ethan stared in reverence as the cuirass, a breastplate and backplate of dark polished hide connected at the shoulders and sides by thick leather straps with silver buckles. Upon the breast of the gorgeous armor was the symbol of the Foresters embroidered into the leather with brilliant golden thread, the Golden Eagle that symbolized Lady Quinn. May smiled slightly at Ethan’s childlike reaction and she tossed it to him. Ethan caught it eagerly but too late he remembered he was holding his towel up, and thus it dropped to the floor. Luckily Ethan was holding the armor in front of his manhood. “May smiled at his predicament and he smirked sheepishly, his face flooded with red, before he hastily bent down and once more secured the towel around himself.

May then withdrew a pair of tight-fitting boots and gauntlets of the same flexible dark hide as the cuirass, and she set them out on the bed. Next she lifted out a new leather satchel with a single long strap, intended to be worn on one side with the strap diagonally across his chest. The satchel was empty but May remarked, “When we depart on your Errand tomorrow, we will first get supplies to put in our satchels.”

She then drew out the thick dark brown wool hooded cloak of the Foresters. It was clasped with a golden cloak pin of their eagle symbol. Ethan’s smile and enthusiasm overflowed when she drew out the final piece of supplies, the Forester’s hand axe. Its smooth silver flawlessness gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight and Ethan admired its beauty, the crescent-shaped blade decorated with sinuous engravings of leafy coiling ivy vines and the straight silver shaft which was wrapped tightly in green-dyed leather to offer its wielder a better grip. The pommel of the shaft was a thick heavy silver head of an eagle, its stern eyes silver and all-knowing and its sharp beak closed for the moment.

May looked up into Ethan’s shiny amber eyes and she said, “This, Ethan Skalderholt, is no weapon. This is a tool. We Foresters pray to all in the Ancestor Lands that we won’t come across combat while on patrol. We rarely even hunt, only when we have no other option, and we thus live off of the natural sustenance that the land has to offer us. This axe is used to chop firewood, clear trails, create sparks, and cut fabric and leather. Yet if you are forced to defend yourself this tool can easily become a weapon, a brutal weapon, and it will quickly end a fight. Just pray to Lady Quinn and the Ancestors that such an experience doesn’t soon come to pass for you, Ethan.”

Ethan nodded stoically, his smile now gone for the moment, and he set down the cuirass he was holding in his free hand. He then reached out and May placed the hand axe into his outstretched hand. His smooth white fingers closed around the leather-bound shaft and he brought the blade of the tool, the weapon, to his lips. He lightly kissed the cool silver and whispered, “In honor and in duty I wield you.”

Ethan and May sat across from one another at a long rectangular table in the Mess Hall and enjoyed their supper. The large chamber was strewn with a cluttered arrangement of long tables, and it was lit by a scattering of decorative sconces along the walls and a beautiful chandelier constructed of a tangle of abundant deer antlers that supported thick white candles. On the plates before both of them was a meal of fresh catfish, a common meal among the settlements that crowded the banks of the Three Baronies River, and buttered potato slices.

Ethan took down another mouthful of cold water and plunged his fork into a potato chip. He eased the buttered food from his plate into his mouth, taking pains to ensure that he didn’t drip butter onto his new garb. After receiving his Forester supplies May had also fetched him a few outfits from the compound’s extensive wardrobe chamber, most discarded from deceased members. The outfits, finally sized properly for Ethan, consisted of some pairs of cotton trousers, each a different shade of brown, a wide leather belt, and three long-sleeved linen shirts, one of dark orange, one of green, and one of black, and plenty of wool socks. He currently wore a pair of light brown trousers and the black shirt, and in addition the new Forester also wore his new leather boots and heavy cloak.

May, on the other hand, was dressed in the complete uniform of the Foresters of the Three Baronies, and beneath Ethan could see a light blue shirt with rolled-up sleeves and black trousers. “So, May, where did you go for your Errand?” asked Ethan after swallowing his hearty mouthful.

She sipped at her own drink, a silver goblet of dark mulberry wine, and sighed in reply, “Well, I had the privilege of foregoing my Errand, and receiving private tutelage from my mother, the grandmaster.”

Ethan could almost feel the sarcasm in May’s voice as she stated this and he responded, “Well, then, this is technically your own Errand, as well, isn’t it?”

May managed a feeble smile and nodded, her pale blue eyes briefly gazing into Ethan’s own yellow stare. When the awkwardness quickly expired they continued their meals.

Later that evening Ethan sat alone on the edge of his bed in his new bed chamber and a wide single candle upon the nightstand flickered with a thick flame, casting amber-colored illumination throughout the small square room. While he was eating dinner with May, employees of the compound had apparently emptied his washtub and disposed of its contents. So much had happened today, he thought to himself. So much had happened the past two score of days.

The dreams of the storyteller, the Forester, had come to fruition. His dreams of departing North Ridge deep in the Vhar Mountains and getting a chance at wonder and excitement had seemed to be fulfilled. With Ethyl’s death, Ethan had the vague sense of his final bond with his rustic world being severed. He was now a man adrift, and he was overjoyed by it. The dozens of years of learning the stories of great heroes and villains and all the fantastic features of the Three Baronies had infected the young Vharian with the seeds of wanderlust and a yearning to be close to the roots of those tales.

With a contented sigh he fell back onto his bed with his legs dangling over the side. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his new trousers and stared at his low timber ceiling, but in his mind’s eye Ethan was seeing himself as a Forester of the Three Baronies plunging headfirst through the omnipotent wilds of the land, facing villainous threats to the people of the Three Baronies and uncovering crumbling ruins of the Ancient Age that were full of history and legends of their own. He saw himself as the subject of his own stories. Ethan laughed.