that happening again."
"They don't really look like that, do they? Human, I mean."
"Nay," he answered, his eyes again on the sky. "They are spirits. This was quite a special occurrence. Methinks they wanted to express their despair in captivity and their joy at my return. I sense ... other messages, as well. She called me Zanalon. She has never done that before.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head, apparently bemused.
“Zanalon? Sounds nice. I was just thinking that I don't even know your name. What does it mean? May I call you that?”
The Sorcerer turned slowly and looked at her silently for a moment. He cocked his head, his expression going from doubtful hesitation to a wry half smile, pleased, yet slightly mischievous. Then he gave the barest of nods. She noticed he didn't tell her what it meant, however.
She chuckled, even though she didn't get the joke. OK, he'll tell me when the time is right. I'm sure it doesn't mean something like “chipmunk,” anyway. “Alright, then, Zanalon it is. So that's not a common occurrence, for them to appear that way?”
He smiled broadly, obviously pleased at her use of the name. Rachel found herself a bit stunned by the smile. She caught herself, carefully not shaking her head to clear it.
Then he nodded and continued. “They appear as they feel, using images from my mind."
Rachel thought about the teddy bear. And mine.
And now the Sorcerer's blackout – Zanalon's – made more sense. "So the one who appeared as a little girl, she was the force from the engine of the truck, and it was her pain you felt. But the littlest one – oh, the keening! My flashlight, for God's sake!"
She bit her lip, thinking, then looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Why did the fire lady change to look like me?"
He dropped his gaze, a trifle guiltily, then looked back to the stars. "That, too, was ... unexpected."
They stood, quiet before the fire among the remains of the truck. Its will to live lost with the elementals' departure, the fire had faded to a corpse of glowing coals, outshone by starlight and moonlight, crackling quieter than the sound of the crickets song.
And then, another sound intruded. An engine, loud enough to be a truck, off in the distance but nearing. Zanalon snapped his head toward the sound.
"Damn," he said. He took her hand, headed away through the trees.
"Must needs we move. Must needs I shut them out. As long as any o' those 'science-driven' devices are near, I cannot leave my mind open to the elementals. All I feel is their pain. But I am virtually deaf and blind without them."
Rachel blinked. "Blind? Oh, pooh, my glasses were in that truck." Rachel waved off the incidental loss and turned to Zanalon, concerned. "You aren't going to pass out again, are you?"
"Nay, I was only caught off guard, then. 'Twas instinct to disconnect completely." He sighed. "I shall prevail without them. They were not of a mind to tell me overmuch, anyway."
Rachel lifted an eyebrow. Before the interruption, she had been nerving to ask about the elemental's kiss; now she only wondered what they were of a mind to do.
She pulled him to a stop, even as she heard voices behind them. "We do need to know what's happening. We might pick up something of use if we hide and listen."
He turned to her, paused. Then he nodded and they dodged behind a broad-trunked tree as the voices grew louder.
" ...see it yet? Over there. Glowin'. That's gotta be it. Jeez, one 'ell of a blast, it was. Good thing the whole woods ain't on fire."
The crunching of leaves under the two men's feet stopped as they approached the blasted truck. There was a silence as they took note of its condition.
"Y'know, I 'eard something on the radio today 'bout a missing professor who was supposed to be investigating some statue and then some people stealing it... They're looking for an American woman. They ain't sure whether she's in on it or been snatched, too. There was someone in the lorry with 'er, either 'er
"They don't really look like that, do they? Human, I mean."
"Nay," he answered, his eyes again on the sky. "They are spirits. This was quite a special occurrence. Methinks they wanted to express their despair in captivity and their joy at my return. I sense ... other messages, as well. She called me Zanalon. She has never done that before.” He lowered his eyes and shook his head, apparently bemused.
“Zanalon? Sounds nice. I was just thinking that I don't even know your name. What does it mean? May I call you that?”
The Sorcerer turned slowly and looked at her silently for a moment. He cocked his head, his expression going from doubtful hesitation to a wry half smile, pleased, yet slightly mischievous. Then he gave the barest of nods. She noticed he didn't tell her what it meant, however.
She chuckled, even though she didn't get the joke. OK, he'll tell me when the time is right. I'm sure it doesn't mean something like “chipmunk,” anyway. “Alright, then, Zanalon it is. So that's not a common occurrence, for them to appear that way?”
He smiled broadly, obviously pleased at her use of the name. Rachel found herself a bit stunned by the smile. She caught herself, carefully not shaking her head to clear it.
Then he nodded and continued. “They appear as they feel, using images from my mind."
Rachel thought about the teddy bear. And mine.
And now the Sorcerer's blackout – Zanalon's – made more sense. "So the one who appeared as a little girl, she was the force from the engine of the truck, and it was her pain you felt. But the littlest one – oh, the keening! My flashlight, for God's sake!"
She bit her lip, thinking, then looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Why did the fire lady change to look like me?"
He dropped his gaze, a trifle guiltily, then looked back to the stars. "That, too, was ... unexpected."
They stood, quiet before the fire among the remains of the truck. Its will to live lost with the elementals' departure, the fire had faded to a corpse of glowing coals, outshone by starlight and moonlight, crackling quieter than the sound of the crickets song.
And then, another sound intruded. An engine, loud enough to be a truck, off in the distance but nearing. Zanalon snapped his head toward the sound.
"Damn," he said. He took her hand, headed away through the trees.
"Must needs we move. Must needs I shut them out. As long as any o' those 'science-driven' devices are near, I cannot leave my mind open to the elementals. All I feel is their pain. But I am virtually deaf and blind without them."
Rachel blinked. "Blind? Oh, pooh, my glasses were in that truck." Rachel waved off the incidental loss and turned to Zanalon, concerned. "You aren't going to pass out again, are you?"
"Nay, I was only caught off guard, then. 'Twas instinct to disconnect completely." He sighed. "I shall prevail without them. They were not of a mind to tell me overmuch, anyway."
Rachel lifted an eyebrow. Before the interruption, she had been nerving to ask about the elemental's kiss; now she only wondered what they were of a mind to do.
She pulled him to a stop, even as she heard voices behind them. "We do need to know what's happening. We might pick up something of use if we hide and listen."
He turned to her, paused. Then he nodded and they dodged behind a broad-trunked tree as the voices grew louder.
" ...see it yet? Over there. Glowin'. That's gotta be it. Jeez, one 'ell of a blast, it was. Good thing the whole woods ain't on fire."
The crunching of leaves under the two men's feet stopped as they approached the blasted truck. There was a silence as they took note of its condition.
"Y'know, I 'eard something on the radio today 'bout a missing professor who was supposed to be investigating some statue and then some people stealing it... They're looking for an American woman. They ain't sure whether she's in on it or been snatched, too. There was someone in the lorry with 'er, either 'er
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