The Wizard

Out of the Woods

Iron Oxide stayed behind to mind the tower and by mid-morning, they came to the clearing Mr. Grimble suggested. He sat atop Mevner's shoulder and rode with feet tucked under the collar of his new black and white goatskin jacket. Mevner looked the part of the woodsman quit well. 

He'd wrapped the handle of the blue bladed dagger with a ruff strand of leather and in its goatskin sheath, no one would suspect its exotic design. The blade itself curved to a divine point and Mevner had carved an intricate double helix design across both sides. He brought his hands back to life honing the sharpness of his new knife. 

"This will do fine, lift me up as high as you can." 

Mevner held the gnome up over his head. He took a small wooden tube out of his bag and blew through it. A surprisingly loud whistle screeched across the clearing. He varied the echoing pitch a few times. 

At the far end of the field, a large buck with a royal set of antlers stepped out of the forest. It looked at them and approached cautiously. 

"So that's how you got the elk before. He's a big one, isn't he?"

"That he is. Do you think you can ride him? That is, I mean, do you think you're fit enough to hold on?" The gnome switched to a grunty language the deer seemed to understand and it walked right up to them.

"He's as big as a pony." Mevner pet the elk whose skin was warm under his coarse hair. 

"Grab hold and climb aboard." Grimble hopped into the animal's antlers and rigged a sling to ride in. 

Mevner hardly got on its back before the great elk took off across the field. He'd just gotten used to the animal's running rhythm and avoiding the sharp point of its crown when they darted into the woods. They raced along a skinny path; one not easily recognized but well utilized by the herds of the forest. The elk carried them for two days and dropped them near a stream. 

They followed the narrow river to the edge of the woods. Mevner stopped once to collect shiny black nightshade berries. He poured out half the goat's blood and stuffed the vial full of berries, shook up the red-black goo, and corked it. 

"This is..."

"Poisonous stuff, you don't have to tell me. Didn't Melock teach you anything about my people?" 

"Don't be cross, I spent all my time reading and practicing the craft. He told me life experience came in time and with travel. You might say he sent me to you. The more I go over the event, the more I don't think Redwing chose that spot to attack us. Melock knew something was amiss and he protected my mind before he was killed. I was spared the eighth curse. When Redwing realized Melock was aware of his intent he attacked him immediately." 

Grimble took these conclusions in while pulling on his mustache as if about to sneeze. 

"Best move into my pocket for a while," said Mevner.

The forest became sparser. The patched woods and rolling hills that led to the sea filled the horizon as they came to the woodsmen's road and beyond that, their village of log cabins. The main street was jammed with multigenerational families and people from all walks of life. Not woods people, however; these were refugees, city folk. 

Guided by hunger as well as curiosity, Mevner made his way to Javelina's, the one and only inn and restaurant in the center of the village. It was packed with customers and the proprietor looked overtaxed and stressed. 

Mevner walked straight up to the hefty bald middleaged fella. "Need any help in the kitchen?"

"Are you a cook or a dishwasher?" 

"Both." Mevner winked at the pleased proprietor. 

"Great! Get in there, we've got a couple hundred people to feed." 

He headed through an arched doorway to the back of the inn. A single sweat soaked chef and Javelina's wife were running the show. Mevner walked in, introduced himself, and suggested they act as wait staff while he handled everything in the kitchen. 

"I'm Maggie and I'd like to see you try," said the innkeeper's wife.

"If I feed the entire crowd will you keep my methods to yourself?" The sincerity of his request struck the right chord with her.

"You've got a deal, boy-o. Can you make pork stew and cabbage?" 

Mevner waved her assuredly out of the room. When she returned ten minutes later with twenty additional orders she couldn't believe her eyes. 

All the dishes were cleaned and twenty neatly lined up bowls were filled with steaming and delicious smelling mushroom soup. Large cauldrons had been lifted off the racks and were now simmering on three different fires. If that wasn't miracle enough, knives cut root vegetables on their own, wood walked in off the pile as if it had legs, and a little gnome sat in the corner smoking a pipe and eating a leg of lamb. In the center of the room, Mevner basted a roasting pig skewered and rotating over the central oven. 

"Your first orders are up. The main course will follow presently." 

"By the bark of the great tree. Thank you, boy-o, thank you!" Maggie Javelina was dumbfounded. "This is wonderful!" 

She grabbed as many full dishes as she could carry and delivered them to the crowd. The inn filled to capacity with the rumors of abundant delicious food. The people were hungry. 

Four hours later, every customer was fully satisfied and tipping generously, the kitchen was spotless and in better order than it had ever been. Mevner and Mr. Grimble were offered a room for the night. 

The refugees, it turned out, were the people of Verina Luki. Luhng had escaped his island and attacked the city. Many who survived had fled to the woods. They told tales of destruction and the deadly fire of the dragon.

When Mevner and Grimble took the road to the sea in the morning, greatly against the advisement of both the innkeeper and his wife, they went with full stomachs, packs bursting with food, and twenty-five gold coins. Javelina paid them handsomely after his windfall night as a restauranteur.