Robert Newcomb: The Fifth Sorceress

His smile faded again as he saw the wizard silently staring at him with those infernally blue eyes of his. There must be more to it. He had often been told that the mental processes and physical actions of wizards were piled upon each other in seamless intricacy, carefully constructed layers of thought and deed. Trying to understand the ones in the gray robes was like trying to peel an onion: A layer was removed, only to reveal another beneath it. It was never easy to fully understand them. Few outside of the craft ever tried.

“And can you imagine what else, Captain?” the wizard asked. The younger man could tell that Wigg expected more from him, but he was unable to give it. The old one again raised an eyebrow. “No? Consider their plight. Their hold belowdecks had barred windows. They knew when it was day or night. Therefore, they also knew that we were fifteen days out.” He laced his fingers and rested his forearms on the rail. “It is common knowledge that no ship has ever survived a journey of greater than that distance into the Sea of Whispers, even when wizards were aboard. And no one knows why. The ships just never returned. The women only have enough food, even if rationed, for five days. In their already-weakened state, an attempt to travel the extra ten days west toward home would result in death from starvation. Or rather, suicide. Their only answer will be to travel east, into the unknown despite the danger, in the hope that they strike landfall in no more than five days.”

Layers of thought and deed , the captain thought to himself. But he still saw anxious concern in the old face as though there was more yet to do. The answer was quick in coming.

“Captain, please go to my quarters and fetch the teak box you will find in my locker. Take care not to drop it.”

Upon returning with the box the young officer watched the wizard remove what appeared at first to be an ordinary velvet bag. From the velvet bag came forth a bowl of blue glass, slightly larger around than the outstretched fingers of the old man’s hand. It looked to be as fragile and ancient as the wizard himself.

Closing his eyes and balancing the bowl upside-down upon his thumb and fingertips, the old one stretched his arm to the sky. For a long silent moment the wizard waited, and something in the captain told him not to move or speak. In the rose-colored light from the trio of moons, the small skiff, with its faint yellow light, was now visible.

The wizard suddenly raised the bowl higher. As he did so the ocean beneath the skiff took the exact shape of the bowl, surrounding the sorceresses’ little boat perfectly in its center, lifting the small craft high over the surface of the ocean at the top of a tall column of seawater. No sooner had the captain’s mouth fallen open than the wizard dropped the leading edge of the bowl forward. The huge, distant bowl of ocean water responded immediately, spilling the skiff down the forward falling rush of water and carrying it east, away from the galleon at least one entire league.

The skiff’s lantern vanished from sight in the distance.

The wizard raised, tipped, and lowered the bowl nineteen more times in a row. Then he unexpectedly cast the bowl to the deck, showering it into pieces. As it flew apart, the captain, his mouth still agape, saw a faint blue light start to glow from the pieces, and an unusual aroma came to his nostrils that reminded him of lily petals and ginger. The broken shards then suddenly combined into a quickly rising, brilliant azure vortex that careened upward, whistling hauntingly through the rigging and sails, eventually fading into nothingness.

The wizard finally opened his eyes, exhausted, leaning against the rail for support.

The captain closed his mouth. His knees were trembling.

“Soon they will be an additional twenty leagues farther to the east,” the old one said, finally satisfied. “The destruction of the bowl ensures that the process cannot be reversed, even by them. Any thought of their return to our shores should now be extinguished.” He silently prayed for all of the future generations of his homeland that what he had just said would come to pass. But secretly, he wondered if it had been enough.

He turned around, looking west once more and down the length of the Resolve’s decks, the braid of wet gray hair turning with him, and he lowered his head in fatigue.

As the galleon limped west, the captain’s mind once again embraced the realization about those with endowed blood that he would not soon forget.

Layers of thought and deed , he said to himself, shaking his head.

Layers of thought and deed .

Dawn broke harshly over the small craft as it bounced freely in the waves, revealing a clear, sun-filled sky. Various casks of food and water lay opened and partially consumed upon the deck of the skiff, gently bumping back and forth.

The first to wake was the leader, her black—and-gray hair spread crazily over her face and breasts. Pushing her hair back, she tried to stand, angrily remembering she was still tied down. They had quickly secured one another to the deck as the wizard had begun to push them to the east. She loosened her bonds and sat up. She had understood his plan when the first of the casks had been opened, even before the giant waves had begun. She fruitlessly searched the barren horizon with her eyes, thinking.

Wizard bastard .

I will live to see you dead. Someday you will pay. You all will pay, including any of the inferior male offspring you may spawn .

She splashed saltwater on the faces of her Sisters, awakening them. Coughing and blinking, they loosened one another’s bonds and sat up. Sullenly, the three other women raised their eyes toward hers in silent concern.

Squinting toward the morning sky, their leader noted the position of the rising sun. Slowly raising her arm, she pointed out over the empty ocean. “Make sail,” she said hoarsely. “We head east.”

Looking nervously among themselves they reluctantly did as she ordered, and the small craft began to make way, each woman aboard knowing instinctively that heading east was the only choice. The only chance.

The exotic one with the long black hair raised her dark, almond eyes to her mistress, silent questions implicit on her sensual face. The leader looked down at her, the food and drink having already begun to restore the gleam in her manic, hazel eyes. She tenderly placed a palm to one of the woman’s cheeks.

“Even if we perish, my Sister,” she said with her crooked smile, “never forget the one of us who sacrificed everything to a lifetime of seclusion in order to stay behind in our homeland.” For the last time she turned her eyes west toward her lost home, searching the endless, invisible line where the turquoise sky met the darker blue of the sea.

“At least one of us still thrives there.”

She bent to pick up an oar.

True peace of mind comes only when my heart and actions are aligned with true principles and values. I shall forsake not, to the loss of all material things, my honor and integrity. I shall protect the Paragon above all else, but take no life except in urgent defense of self and others, or without fair warning. I swear to rule always with wisdom and compassion.