Chapter 3

Something prodded his shoulder. Aden grunted and waved his hand for the annoyance to go away. Instead of doing as it was told, it prodded again. Aden sat up and stared at his tormentor with half-lidded eyes.

“If looks could kill, Aden... , “ the man spoke as he adjusted his strung bow on his shoulder.

“They cannot or half the world would probably be dead already,” Aden said. “What is so urgent that you would chance disturbing a cranky wizard as you insist on calling me?”

“Game birds stalk bugs in the meadow below,” Vasayc said. “A little roasted fowl on the spit appeals to me.”

“Would not a net be easier?” Aden said, rolling his shoulders and stretching the muscles in his neck.

“If you flush them out from one side, then I can easily down them as they launch in a flock.”

“There are easier ways,” Aden said. “However, if you enjoy the hunt as much as the dining, then we will do it your way.”

Aden arose. Reaching into his travel sack, he retrieved his belt and retied his master’s jacket. When he looked up, he was taken by the look of awe on the hunter’s face as he stared at the tied belt.

“What?” Aden said trying to force the man to look him in the face.

“You are a high wizard,” Ezza said. “You have the white tips; no one has seen white tips in my lifetime, which we count as a good thing. You are unusually dangerous.”

“White tips can be dangerous,” Aden said as an admission. “However, I never stepped onto that downward path of greed and power. My ambitions ran in a different direction for which I have paid dearly. If you wish to leave, then do so now without fear lurking at your back.”

The hunter looked undecided.

“I am a master of masters,” Aden said with sadness in his voice. “I was the master of masters. Now, I don’t know what I am, but today I shall be a bird catcher. A bird catcher sounds good.”

Quietly Aden stalked through the meadow, keeping low. He was waiting for the signal from Ezza to scare the birds out of the undergrowth. He had walked into the high stalks of the eastern side of the meadow stepping carefully. There were snakes after all, not big ones but lazy enough to move slowly out of the way of a clumsy foot.

Aden cocked his head when he heard a little whistle in two short bursts. He stood up and gave a loud “Whoop! Whoop!” A flock of fat birds with short necks rose with squawks of fear and confusion. Arrows flew, ten in quick succession. Eight birds fell leadenly to the ground. Without much thought, Aden scampered after the fallen bodies and twisted their short necks to insure they were dead.

“Eight birds!” Aden announced. “Such a feast we will have tonight. Our bellies will burst.”

“Aye, we will eat well but not until we find the two arrows that missed,” Ezza said, scanning the immediate area for telltale signs of his arrows. “Damn expensive shafts those were – took me most of the winter to shape them with just the right balance.”

“You may scoff all you like but your arrows are a fine example of my opinion that weapons are too much effort, time, skill, and practice. How many years did you practice to fire ten arrows in rapid succession?”

“Since I was a little boy,” Ezza said, sweeping the stalks aside. “My father wanted me to join the Governor’s guard. I did as he wanted, and I was proud of my skills as an archer. The pay was poor, my fellows were not much of which to speak, and the job was tedious most of the time. On guard duty during a royal hunt, I picked off a charging sow and three of her piglets by reflex alone. The rest is history.”

“Found one,” Aden announced, holding the arrow aloft. “I see the other, but it is deeply buried.

“Well, don’t grab it by the fletching; it will ruin the arrow,” Ezza said. “The reason I have a wizard retrieving my arrows is that the gods are laughing at me. Hold on, I’m coming.”

Ezza bent over and grabbed the arrow just below the shaft. He pulled once and let go with surprise and puzzlement. Bending over again he grasped the arrow with a full fist and pulled slowly. The arrow did not budge.

“I’ll be damned,” he said straightening up and looking at Aden. “The arrow is well stuck on something down there. Roots?”

Aden shook his head, dismissing the idea. He conjured a spark of phyzeec and sent it down on a thread into the soil. The sensation when the spark hit was unmistakable. “Metal.”

“I’m not a grave robber,” Ezza said. “If metal lies under our feet, then I guess we are standing on the grave of a fallen soldier.”

Aden put a hand on the hunter’s soldier. “A grave it may be, but we have a bit of mystery. Do you know of any sword or armor that would not turn to rust after ten generations? Let us use simple math – five hundred or six hundred years?”

“No, I don’t,” Ezza said. “We don’t have a shovel either and I’m not keen on digging with just my hands.”

“You are making excuses,” Aden said. “We don’t need to dig with a shovel. I am a wizard of some experience after all. Stand back, please. I’m about to make a mess.”

Aden shook out the stiffness in his fingers and cracked his knuckles just because it felt good. He whipped up a goodly amount of phyzeec and began to spin it between his two cupped hands that formed a circle. As the circular flow became stronger, he pumped more energy into the flow, creating a funnel of wind. He added more and the funnel grew large enough that he had to open his arms. As the funnel stabilized into a small tornado, Aden let the top rise far over his head to add more torque to the motion.

“I hate this part,” Aden shouted to his companion over the roaring of the wind. He directed the tip of his wind funnel into the soil and began throwing soil and grasses in every direction. Undeterred by the mud caking his face and clothes, Aden continued to trace a rectangle for his trench. Satisfied with his work, Aden pumped even more phyzeec into his creation and forced it to delve deeper into the soil.

He heard Ezza curse loudly behind him, which made Aden chuckle. Getting dirty from head to toe was a wonderful feeling, especially since he was caked enough that clumps of roots did not sting anymore. He was still wary of flying rocks though and he was not sure he could move fast enough if he saw one zip past. Sacrificing speed and accuracy, he tilted his tornado, attempting to aim the flying debris away from him.