Path of the Specialist Page 3

  “No idea,” Ingrid said, “but the Elder Specialists don’t look very pleased. They’re ignoring him. It’s quite rude to ignore a visitor.”

  Molak rubbed his chin. “Rather curious, this behavior of our leaders...”

  “This guy’s bringing bad news,” Viggo said.

  “It could be,” Erika agreed, “but what’s intriguing about this unexpected visitor is a question we’re all thinking: who is he? And more than that, what’s he doing here? This isn’t exactly somewhere people come to very often...” From her expression it was obvious that she did not know what to make of Enduald’s sudden appearance.

  Lasgol noticed the gravity of the conversation between Sigrid and the stranger and asked himself the same question. He had an ominous feeling about the man in black.

  Sigrid and the Elders led the visitor inside the Cavern of Winter and disappeared.

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Viggo muttered.

  “You don’t like the look of anything,” Ingrid snapped back.

  “You wait and see.”

  “I’m with Viggo,” said Erika.” It gives me the shivers.”

  Lasgol had to agree with them.

  Ingrid waved it aside. “Bah! Nonsense. He must be a messenger.” And they went out to finish their daily chores.

  In the early evening Lasgol was able to get away for a while after the day’s training. He was delighted to be able to play with Camu in the woods at the far end of the Shelter. The Mother Specialist had granted him permission to spend time with the little creature, as long as Camu came back to his adopted family at the end of the day. Lasgol would have liked to have him all the time, but he understood that was impossible under the circumstances.

  He let out his breath in frustration. Both Camu and he were still in their ‘trial period’, and he was very much aware of this. Sigrid and Gisli never let them out of their sight and watched every step they took. The other Elders watched them too, from which Lasgol deduced that Sigrid had ordered them to. For the moment, everything was going well, Lasgol was able to follow his wishes and Camu to live with Snowflake’s family. Both he and Camu were very well and had no cause for complaint, except for the fact that they could not spend the whole time together. It was hard for Camu, but after many attempts Lasgol had finally managed to make him understand. The first few days after their reunion Camu would not part from him, not for anything in the world. Lasgol had to ask for permission to spend a few days with him until he could make him understand. The fact was that his heart was breaking. Camu clung to his leg every evening to stop him from going back to the Lair, and Lasgol ended up in tears.

  Sigrid had kept her word and had not informed the King of Camu’s existence, for which he was deeply grateful. Nor had they begun to study him or experiment on him for the time being, for which he was even more grateful. For the moment they were content to watch Camu from a distance and note down what they could see of his behavior. Lasgol wanted things to stay that way, but unfortunately he knew it would not last for long. Sigrid wanted to know more about Camu, just as she did about him, as he was aware every time she looked at him with that intense gaze of hers.

  He signaled to the naughty little creature to come to him. Camu stopped devouring some kind of plant which for some reason he found very tasty, even though it looked decidedly unappealing, and in three big bounces he landed on Lasgol’s chest. Taken by surprise, Lasgol took a step back and almost lost his balance.

  He used his ability to send messages to the little one. When I tell you to come, you needn’t jump on me.

  Happy. Jump, Camu said, and licked his cheek lovingly.

  Yes, I’m very happy to have you with me, too Lasgol told him, and gave him a big hug.

  Camu, very happy by now, began his dance, flexing his legs, which were still clinging to Lasgol’s chest and wagging his tail at the same time.

  Lasgol laughed delightedly, and Camu licked his other cheek.

  Together. Happy.

  Lasgol nodded. We won’t leave each other, I promise.

  Camu stared at him with his big bulging eyes. Not leave. Never.

  I promise. Never again.

  Lasgol was fascinated by the fact that Camu was sending him not only the message, but the feeling behind it. He could feel when the little creature was restless, happy, sad, joyful. The odd thing was that it did not happen with other animals, including Trotter, with whom he shared a very good friendship and mutual understanding. It was also true that Camu was the only animal who communicated messages in return. When Lasgol communicated with Trotter it was always a one-way process; the horse understood him but did not have the capacity to send a message back, as Camu could. The most logical explanation was that Camu was a creature with magic, and hence could not only send feelings but mental messages as well. Egil had found it fascinating. Lasgol had to agree with his friend: it was fascinating, and so was Camu.

  Go back with you?

  You can’t do that yet. You have to stay here with Snowflake’s family

  Camu did not look altogether convinced, but he resigned himself to the fact. Okay, he said, but the feeling that reached Lasgol was one of annoyance.

  Don’t run away and come to see me. I know your tricks... we’d be in big trouble.

  Good boy, Camu said. He took on a virtuous expression, widening his everlasting smile as if he were the most innocent, harmless creature in the world.

  Lasgol laughed. Don’t look like that, because you don’t fool me. No tricks. I know you well, you rascal.

  Camu wagged his tail and went on smiling. Good boy.

  Sure, and I’m a snow troll.

  Suddenly a hare appeared, running very fast between the trees. Camu saw it, and before Lasgol could stop him, he leapt from his chest and went after it.

  It’s too fast. You’ll never catch it.

  Catch. Fun.

  Lasgol shook his head. You’re impossible.

  A sense of enjoyment reached him, and he could not help smiling.

  He waited a moment, then when he saw Camu was not coming back, he decided to practice some archery. He still was not genuinely skillful with the bow, and he felt terrible about the fact. Everybody knew that a good Ranger had to be an exceptionally skillful archer, but he himself was far below the level of his colleagues. Not to speak of Ingrid and Molak, who were truly exceptional. What irked him most was that Isgord too was very good. He could not allow that contemptible individual to be so much better than he was himself, so he had to improve.

  He was practicing, releasing against a tree a hundred paces away. His shots were not bad, nor were they good. For a Ranger, they were mediocre. Of course, he was a better shot than a soldier or a bandit would be, but that was not much consolation. It was not that he was competitive: far from it. He did not really need to be the best with a bow; he just needed to be rather better than he was so as not to look a fool in front of his teammates.

  The only shot he made that was always perfect was his True Shot. But this was something he did with his Gift, using magic, which meant that it was a kind of cheating – or at least so he felt. Although if in need, or faced with danger, he would use it without hesitation. He looked at the tree where several arrows were buried, breathed deeply and aimed. He closed his eyes and moved five paces to the right, then stepped back another five. Without opening his eyes, he called upon his skill, and a green flash ran along his arms and the bow. When he released, the arrow hit the target in the middle of the others.

  He opened his eyes and checked. Perfect shot. He smiled.

  “At least with my Gift I can be proud of a great skill.” But no sooner had he said this that he thought better of it. He could not tell anybody about it. It would not be well received, because people feared what they did not understand. Mentioning it outside the circle of his close friends would not benefit him at all. Even Nilsa and Gerd looked at him strangely when he talked about his skills: Nilsa because she hated all magic, Gerd because he feared it.

 
He went on practicing, this time without using his skill, and his results turned acceptable once more, but not spectacular. Seeing that he was not improving, it occurred to him to ask Ingrid and Molak for help. When they had given him some teaching, he had improved a lot, but now he was stuck again and needed their help once more. They were his friends, and they would be delighted to help him. Molak’s technique was excellent, and Ingrid had an arm of iron.

  He decided to try to develop a new skill, or rather the one he had been trying to develop for over a year without success: Fast Shot. If he were capable of releasing three times in the blink of an eye, this would give him an enormous advantage in truly dangerous situations, when their lives were at stake. He concentrated, searching for his inner energy. He tried to release three times as fast as he could. The shots left his bow at normal intervals and the longed-for skill failed to appear.

  “I’m never going to make it,” he muttered under his breath. He had been trying for a long time without succeeding. The fact that someone might want to develop a skill did not mean they would succeed. It was one thing to possess the Gift, the Talent, but a very different one to be able to develop the skills you wanted. Lasgol knew this law very well, because he had developed most of his own skills by accident, without even realizing. And the couple he had managed to develop through his own efforts had taken him an eternity. Years! This skill was following the same pattern, and he was not confident that he would achieve it. In fact, he was growing less certain about it all the time.

  He tried again. Nothing. He sighed. To cheer himself up he decided to do a True Shot without looking at the tree. He nocked an arrow and shut his eyes, spun around, called upon the skill and released to one side. At that moment there should have been a green flash as the skill that would guide the arrow to the tree was activated.

  But nothing happened.

  The arrow flew to one side.

  Lasgol opened his eyes.

  What on earth happened? I still have inner energy. Why wasn’t the skill activated? Puzzled, he stared at the tree and then at his bow, in case there was something wrong with it. But no, it was in perfect condition. It must have been something strange, he told himself to calm himself down. His skills had never failed him, assuming he had enough energy left – but there was a first time for everything, so he decided to try again.

  He aimed at the tree and shut his eyes. He concentrated, searching for his inner energy, and found it in his chest. He called upon the skill, feeling part of his energy being consumed and the skill beginning to be activated. And at that very moment it failed. The energy was consumed, but the skill was not activated and there was no green flash.

  This is strange. What’s happening to me? Could I be ill? Have I lost the skill?... He was completely nonplussed. Once or twice he had failed when he called upon a skill, but never like this. And generally, it had been with a recently acquired skill.

  And at that moment he received a sense of amusement and knew straightway what was wrong.

  He turned and looked in every direction. Show yourself. I know it’s you.

  Nobody replied.

  Once again Lasgol became aware of a feeling of amusement.

  Make yourself visible so that I can see you…

  And Camu became visible behind his back.

  You’re a bad boy, Lasgol told him. He was unable to hold back a smile.

  Not bad. Fun.

  Yes, I know you’ve been having fun, at my expense. D’you think that’s fine?

  Yes. Fun. Happy, Camu said, and began his dance, flexing his legs and wagging his tail.

  I’m not laughing.

  Laugh. Fun.

  Lasgol rolled his eyes.

  And anyway, you shouldn’t interfere with my skills.

  Camu stopped dancing, pointed his tail, stiffened and flashed silver.

  Magic. Refuse. Now the feeling he received from Camu was not one of enjoyment but of duty, of obligation.

  I know you want to prevent all magic, but you must let me use mine.

  Stop magic. All. The feeling of duty was coming very strongly now. So far Camu had never interfered with his Talent. He and Egil had talked about this, and according to Egil Camu was not yet able to detect all kinds of magic, only the kind that was either very powerful or very close at hand. He could not detect Lasgol’s magic very well, and they did not know why. Maybe it was not powerful enough, or else was a kind that Camu was unable to detect so far, or that he was so close to Lasgol he did not see it as something strange.

  Lasgol shook his head. It looked as though the moment when Camu was able to detect it had come. Egil had already predicted this. “One day Camu will be able to detect any kind of magic, including yours. I believe it’s part of his inborn talent. As he grows up, that skill will grow and develop with him.” Lasgol could not forget that the little creature was still young and would develop over time. If what Egil believed was true, Camu was a magical creature of the Ice which could live to a thousand years old, and so far, he was only four...

  He wondered how he could explain that to the little one. No, you mustn’t stop all magic. My magic and the magic of our friends is good. You mustn’t interrupt it. You must let it happen.

  Camu looked at him with eyes filled with doubt. Not all?

  I know your instinct tells you to prevent all kinds of magic, that you feel it’s your duty, but you need to learn to differentiate between friendly magic and enemy magic, and only stop the second kind.

  Camu moved his head from side to side, staring at him. Stop all magic, he insisted. Instinct was stronger in him than reasoning.

  Lasgol crouched down in front of him and looked him in the eyes. He would have to find some way of persuading him. He decided to try using examples.

  Imagine I’m in danger, and I need to use magic to save my life.

  Find other way. Not magic.

  But imagine there’s no alternative, it’s either use magic or die. Wouldn’t you let me use it?

  Camu’s eyes showed fear. You not die.

  So, would you let me use my magic?

  Camu was debating between his instinct, which was very strong, and his love for his friend. Lasgol could see that internal struggle in his anguished gaze. He felt a little guilty for giving him a hard time, but he needed him to understand what he was trying to explain. It was very important for both of them. Otherwise, in a dangerous situation they could both die.

  You yes, he transmitted in the end.

  That’s right. You mustn’t interrupt the magic I make or refuse it, because we might need it if we’re in danger. I understand that your instincts lead you to prevent all kinds of magic, but if I’m the one calling upon it, you must let me.

  Lasgol good. Yes magic.

  Lasgol smiled from ear to ear. That’s it, little one. Thank you very much, he said, and hugged him.

  Other magic no, bad. Stop.

  Lasgol thought about insisting but having ensured that Camu would at least let him call upon his own skills, he let it be. He would have to teach him patiently that not all magic was bad. Good or bad depended on whoever was making it. But that would take time and effort.

  To make sure Camu had understood, he made a further attempt to call upon his True Shot skill, and this time it worked. The skill was activated, and the green flash appeared. The arrow struck the tree in the exact spot he had wanted.

  Very good, he said to Camu.

  The little creature gave three huge bounces and vanished

  We can’t play all day. I’ve got to go back.

  Play a little more.

  Lasgol shook his head and resigned himself, with a smile on his face. Sitting on the huge roots of an oak, he waited for Camu to come back. An idea came to him suddenly it was something that had passed him by completely, something important. Camu had interrupted him, and he had not seen him. He had done it while invisible. Camu could call upon his power and refuse magic in that state. This was something that had never happened before. It meant that the li
ttle one had developed this alone, without anybody’s help, which was surprising and significant, and opened up a range of new possibilities. What the little creature had done was impressive.

  Lasgol smiled. What other abilities would Camu develop as he grew? Simply thinking about it made the hair on his arms stand on end. It would be amazing.

  I wish you were here, Egil. This is fantastic.

  Chapter 4

  After the hard training with Snowflake, where their rapidly improving physical fitness was enabling them to sidestep his caresses and avoid ending up scratched, Elder Specialist Gisli was now waiting to give his Wildlife pupils their daily lesson.

  “Come with me and listen while we walk. I’m going to teach you as we go. You can ask about what you don’t understand, but no stopping, because we’ve got a long trek ahead of us.”

  Luca slapped Lasgol’s shoulder and smiled at him. It was obvious that he was enjoying the training a lot. Lasgol smiled back, and they set off. Erika and Axe followed, looking enthusiastic. It surprised Lasgol that the four of them were always happy with Master Gisli’s instruction. This had not usually been the case at the Camp, where learning had often come via suffering and nobody had enjoyed it. But in the Shelter they all seemed to be enjoying the process. Presumably this had to do with the Elder Specialists and the way they taught, which was more direct and entertaining than what they had experienced at the Camp. In fact, Lasgol would have given anything to have Gisli to himself the whole year. Unfortunately, this was impossible, and when he thought about it, it was a selfish wish and he regretted having felt it. But it was a clear indication of what a good teacher he was.

  Gisli walked as if every one of his steps counted for three of theirs, which was surprising considering his age, and at the same time he left them panting. By noon Lasgol began to feel the tiredness in his body. Luckily the good-humored lessons Gisli gave as they went helped to make this bearable. They were enjoying things so much that they scarcely felt the rigors of the journey.

  “Remember, Erika, that a Beast Master is fundamental for the good running of a Rangers’ camp. And I don’t mean only at the Camp or the Shelter, but in any gathering of Rangers, whether in a fort, a castle, a fortress or a forest. The Beast Master will be in charge of all the animals, making sure they’re well-looked-after. That includes ponies, horses, hawks, owls, panthers, bears and any other animal that’s with the Rangers. In addition, he or she will be the highest authority on everything to do with wildlife, both here in Norghana and outside the realm.”