Chapter 4 – Where Did the Wizard Go?

  Djanara

  Djanara considered telling the gnome she’d been acting strange ever since the shore had shown; but, just about everything her small companion did was at least a little strange. She’d expected a little more enthusiasm. Instead, Jezza’s eyes were steeled forward, unmoving, ready, staring at the shoreline and its dilapidated dock their entire approach. It reminded her of how she’d first seen the magister, back in the bar, and it was just as striking now. Everything about her easily communicated a meek and accommodating teacher – except those eyes.

  The warrior had looked into so many eyes. Cowards were easy to spot. Cowards desperately wanted her to know they were cowards; they would scream this in silence at her after a single glance. They covered themselves in imaginary armor, telling themselves things such as if I’m clearly no threat, I’ll be left alone.

  Jezza had the eyes of a killer. She’d never met someone who came by those dishonestly.

  Thinking about it, this was a different kind of strange for Jezza – the gnome hadn’t shown her guts like this since they spoke of the tides. She should probably ask.

  “Thought this was home,” Djanara asked, “you look like we’re about to storm a beachhead.”

  The gnome’s ears flared, but she stayed silent, looking forward for several long moments. Djanara waited. A response would always come, she’d learned, the gnome simply deigned not to fill the air with uhhhs during her consideration. It was refreshing, honestly.

  “Yeah, I should probably mention,” Jezza sighed, finally looking her way. “You might hear some folks call me a different name.”

  “Oh yeah?” Djanara wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. That seemed normal. She’d heard at least three names for herself in Siprese alone.

  “Yeah, I-” Jezza said, halting, searching for words. Djanara frowned, wondering if she’d just escorted a fugitive.

  “You not expecting a warm welcome?” Djanara asked, a little annoyed. That would’ve been nice to know.

  “No no, they’ll be – polite,” Jezza stammered, “some of them, at least. I’m not some kind of criminal or anything!”

  “Well, that’s good,” Djanara huffed. “Union says I need to avoid any crime or piracy-related activities. I asked ‘em: ‘What’s the difference, isn’t piracy just crimes with a boat?’ and they didn’t appreciate it.”

  Jezza cracked a grin, then a laugh; a portion of her tension rolling away.

  The dock was true shit. Probably why it was empty – well, aside from the ferry boat submerged fully underwater, developing a barnacle population. Deciding the half-rotted wood would collapse if she moored the sloop, Djanara rowed them to the nearby shore and used a young tree. Jezza began to gather her things but paused when Djanara did not.

  “Are you coming?” Jezza asked. There was a new, sheepish quality to this question.

  “I had it in my head I’d wait with the boat,” Djanara shrugged. “You can go visit with all your people without me.”

  “I’d really like you with me,” Jezza said.

  “Listen,” she responded with a long sigh. “This sappy homecoming stuff, it’s not for me. I’d just bring everything down.”

  Jezza gave her a combative look. She opened her mouth to speak something firm.

  But, the gnome paused. That’s when Djanara noticed something that churned her stomach. Her eyes. These weren’t killer’s eyes anymore. These were the eyes of a frightened, sad little girl.

  “Please?” Jezza asked, so soft.

  Where’d the wizard go?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A voice from Djanara’s past echoed within. Someone vital. Someone drowned. A sunken memory.

  Look how scared she is, the voice told her. Leila, watching my ass from Charon’s river, huh. Yeah fine – I know what you’d say.

  “Alright,” Djanara relented. “You do the talking, though.” Technically, it was her duty to accompany Jezza during the entire trip; she’d just thought they would be creative again.

  The land here was sea-like, she decided. Rolling knobs of hills stretched far inland, covered in trees long emptied of leaves. They made every footfall feel uphill or downhill, never to be relieved by valley or crest. Beyond the knobs, the Lacian mountain range stood proud; tired and old. Outside of the dock house, there wasn’t any immediate indication they’d arrived at a settlement -- though, it was hard to see through the knobs and trees.

  They were avoiding the dock house on the way inland. At least, Jezza tried. As they moved in view of the front, someone cleared their throat.

  “Excuse me?” an elderly woman’s voice. Djanara spotted her seated on a well-worn chair, a grey-haired and wrinkled human with eyes of fog.

  “Come closer,” she called, brow furrowed. “I can’t see too well no more.”

  Jezza, bearing a forlorn expression, approached the woman. Djanara crossed her arms to wait nearby.

  “Jakko?” the woman leaned closer, her natural stoop meeting the smaller gnome at eye level. “Little Jakko, is that you?”

  “Hello Miss Brandybill,” Jezza answered, “yes, but my name’s Jezza now.”

  “Oh, Jakko,” Brandybill smiled, “oh, give me a hug; you’ve come back! I should wake Gregor; he would want to see you. You really were a sweet boy!”

  They embraced, but Jezza did not match the woman’s warmth to any degree.

  “Ms. Brandybill, listen,” Jezza said, so patient, yet scared, “I’m a girl, okay? And I’m going by Jezza now.”

  “That’s what I remember,” Brandybill nodded in a friendly manner. “You always had such an imagination, I loved the stories you would come up with about your fairies! Gregor! Hovelroot’s little boy Jakko is outside!”

  Djanara saw Jezza wince in pain while motioning to her.

  “I’m really sorry,” Jezza said, “I’m here with a friend. We need to get to mom’s, but we can come back later, alright?”

  “That’s lovely,” Brandybill clasped her heart. “You finally made a friend! Go on then, I’m sure your mom’s missing you something fierce.”

  They left the dock house in silence, Jezza keeping a gloomy, distant expression. Something was definitely off, Djanara decided. The woman had been polite, but why did it seem like she wasn’t seeing or hearing what was in front of her? She chalked it up to age. Once they were out of earshot, Jezza paused again to face her.

  “So,” Jezza said, “when I was born, I was given the name Jakko, and folks thought I was a boy – even me.”

  “Okay?” Djanara grunted. The gnome looked so hesitant and scared now. Why?

  “And after I graduated,” Jezza continued, “before I started adventuring, I realized who I was and made certain changes. Mostly my name and hair.”

  “Explains why she called you that,” Djanara shrugged.

  Jezza was looking at her, wide-eyed, like she was expecting more.

  “Er, so that’s – I guess you don’t find that strange,” she trailed off.

  “Well, yeah,” Djanara grumbled, “but that’s the least strange thing you got going.”

  “Hah,” Jezza looked to be floating in relief. “Yeah.”

  Over the next knob, the signs of civilization became more apparent. Well, not the most affluent place she’d been aground. The weathered homes, beaten and unskillfully repaired, were tucked away behind trees and hills in every direction. The branchwork buildings – characteristic elven tree-top structures – were non-functional, ugly facades, like they hadn’t supported townsfolk for decades yet continued receiving superficial upkeep. Even the chapel looked tired, with chunks missing from the steeple’s stained glass.

  The liveliest shores she’d sailed and happiest people she’d met had also been penny-poor.

  This place was just sad.

  Djanara wanted to make a comment, but there was no time.

  A combatant approached.

  An elven man, late in his thirties. Average build, lots of ale fat. Unarmed. Looking right at the wizard with eyes of open malice. He was forty feet downhill and climbing to get to her. Djanara took one step forward to position herself at Jezza’s ten, clearing the angle for both of them to engage – why was the wizard whimpering and looking away?

  The attacker shouted something, continuing his approach from his suicidal position. Jezza squeaked a response.

  Djanara’s world, once again, turned upside down. Did this man have a deathwish? He shouted again, but the wizard was not facing him.

  Her shock grew when he strode right next to Djanara like she wasn’t there at all. He, of his own volition, placed his head in the absolute perfect position to be punched while addressing the gnome.

  “Welcome back, loser,” the man smiled so wide. “How’s it been, Jakko?”

  “H-hi, Callen,” Jezza stammered, “I go by Jezza now.”

  “Wow!” Callen sneered. “You would. You always were into such fag-”

  This Callen person, Djanara decided, was incredibly fortunate. Fortunate that Djanara knew exactly how hard to perform a right jab on an adult elf (factoring in the booze) in order to render one unconscious without shattering their jaw. The fighter figured others wouldn’t have her sense of a fair fight in that regard.

  She did so.

  Callen dropped. Rolled down the hill a ways. Stopped.

  Jezza stood transfixed, mouth open. Djanara thought of something.

  “Er, sorry,” Djanara asked, “did you want to do that?”

  It was a reflex. She might’ve stolen some glory.

  “All my life, actually,” Jezza mumbled. “You’re gonna have to carry him to mom’s.”

  “Yeah?” Djanara said, “are there gonna be issues?”

  “Might be some issues,” Jezza said.