The waterfall at the south end of the gorge is not a breathtaking marvel of nature, but still worthy of considerable admiration, even at that time of day, when it was in shadow. Normally, this part of the river served me as both kitchen and bath. When we arrived, however, there was a huge grizzled she-bear on the middle-height ledge beside the waterfall, chomping down a meal of fat fish ... out of my fishing trap!
"Aaah! Mitzi! Bad bear!" I yelled, jumped up to the ledge and whacked her in the rump with the stone I'd picked up earlier. "That's bad! You know those are mine!" I shoved her a bit. "You know, there are still plenty of hornets around, at this time of year," I hinted ominously. Split between indignance and contrition, Mitzi rumbled a bear-whimper. There was only half a fish left, and half a mangled fish trap. And Mitzi was so hungry, and of course winter was coming ... I leaned on her shoulder. "Well, that's just it, then," I said more quietly. "You just finish what you've got, and I'll never fish here again."
Mitzi bawled piteously.
"No, you'll have to catch your own; I don't have enough to share with a naughty fish thief." Mitzi picked up the leftover fish with a final whine, and lumbered away under a heavy guilt trip. I retrieved my cooking kit from its convenient niche (of course I keep my cooking kit in the gorge. Almost everything edible lives in the gorge) and went back to where Zelgadis still stood, watching after Mitzi. "Looks like we'll have to catch fresh," I told him, but he didn't move. "Zelgadis?"
He blinked. Then he blinked at me. Then he blinked after Mitzi, then he blinked at me again. Do I really talk more to animals, or does it just seem that way?
"Well, come on." I led him back north, slightly around a bend from the waterfall, to the sturdy little bank where the fishing was excellent. I set my kit on a rock, peeled off my coat, and handed the big iron skillet to Zelgadis.
"What now?" he wondered. I strolled down and knelt by the water.
"Now we catch fish," I said. "Ready?"
"I - suppose - "
I shut my eyes - it's easier, for these cases - and slipped my Beastmastery underwater. Ethics are paramount when one hunts with the mind: it is important to go first for the oldest, most senile and overbred fish in the area (it will usually also be the biggest, by happy coincidence). I never hunt dry prey with my mastery.... I found a doddering great-grandfather of a fish drowsing in the darkest depths, and inspired in his tiny damp mind the need for a serious thrill. He circled the bottom twice in agitation, and sped headlong for the surface. I felt the breeze as he flew past, but what I heard instantly afterward was:
smack "Erk - " clunk.
Reluctantly, I glanced back over my shoulder.... All I could see of Zelgadis was his grip on the empty skillet and part of his legs, since apparently ... the fish had knocked him backwards over the rock. Carefully, he peeled off the fish and sat up.
"You're supposed to catch them," I lectured from above, and took back the skillet. "Watch me." I went back and stood at the river's edge, gripping the frypan, eyes closed - one must concentrate deeper when fishing solo. Presently I rode another ancient fish to the surface, and took one lunge to stop its flight as it cleared the shore. The first blow stunned the fish and knocked it almost straight up in the air; I had to open my eyes to catch it on the way down.
There was a bad pang in my chest, but I didn't let it interfere.
"You see?" I showed him the fish. "If you stun them with the pan, you don't have to do it with your face." I flipped the second fish over to join the first, and passed him the skillet.
"Thanks for the tip," he answered dryly. At the brink of evening and late afternoon - that is, in almost an hour - we had caught fifteen of the biggest, oldest, stupidest fish in the river, and Zelgadis had quite polished his skill at my fishing technique. Leaving the gorge was a good deal trickier than entering, as we carried our catch strung through the gills with thongs from my cooking kit. The ascent left me breathless and so lightheaded I swooned into a tree - or rather, into Zelgadis' shoulder. He dealt me a strangely suspicious look over the point of impact. It hurt to breathe -
"Oops - uh, sorry; I - " The view of the empty, shadowed gorge commanded my attention. The sun would set shortly.... "I need a new staff," I finished, dropped my fish and jumped straight up into the canopy. There was no time to be picky about wood type; I just cut the longest, straightest branch available, trimmed it with my small knife, and dropped back down to where Zelgadis waited. I had to catch my balance with the new staff - my chest throbbed clear through to my back. I took back my fish from Zelgadis and strode briskly ahead. By the time we returned to the little camp, twilight had set in. Lina's voice carried as well as the light of the fire - better, when she caught sight of us.
"There they are! Zel, I think I figured it out," she called, vaulting over a fallen log and tripping downhill toward us. "It's so simple: he must have been using a - FOOD!!"
And then she charged (it was thoroughly nightmarish). I abandoned the fish in a panic and dove behind a tree, just before she tore through as a gust of red wind and plucked them from the very air. When I didn't hear a disastrous crash, I peered hesitantly from my hiding place - and saw Zelgadis doing the same from behind an opposite tree trunk. Shakily, I followed him back to the fireside. Lina had all the fish, piled in front of her, and was spitting them with remarkable speed. Either she knew nothing of proper cookery, or was too hungry to care.
"Now, this is the size fish should be," she chatted. "I only hope they don't cook up too slowly," and she built up the fire with a small magic spell, which I can't say made me feel any more at ease. "Now, as I was saying," she cast a square look across the fire at Zelgadis and me (because now I was sitting on his left) "I think I've figured out how that sorcerer was keeping you in check; I think he was using some sort of long-term mind-control spell."
"He what?"
"You may be right," Zelgadis agreed.
"It would have been very easy for him to cast a mind-control spell immediately after he ... changed you ... to ensure obedience, establish a loyalty bond, territorial boundaries, and plant other commands and instructions," Lina explained, concentrating on the fish. "Does Rustiven live out here with you?"
"No, I d - I don't know where he lives," I realized. "He's only out here every five weeks or so."
"That's when he would reset the spell," Zelgadis deduced. "It wouldn't take much, if it were originally well cast."
" - But he must have missed the opportunity on this visit, and you broke the spell when he attacked Zelgadis," Lina finished. There was a pause of two heartbeats.
"I don't believe a word of it," I said quickly.
"You don't? Then, how long have you been living out here?" Zelgadis inquired.
If I am ever struck by a falling cathedral, it will probably remind me of that moment.
"I ... don't know," I faltered. "As long as I can remember - "
"Then it's likely he's erased your memory as well," Lina concluded.
I frowned. "No, he - "
"Where are you from?" Zelgadis asked swiftly. "What's your surname? Who were your parents? How old are you?"
"Stop it!" I flinched from him. Half of my mind felt blank, numb, shocked.
"How awful," Amelia murmured over her knees.
That was when I got up and left. I didn't know what else to do.
If Zelgadis had followed me then, I would have fought him. The sun had set, and the dark was almost complete, but I didn't have to go far form the fire before I found a dead, hollow tree with a troll tusk hammered deep into its trunk: one of my numerous armories. Whenever I have a nice scimitar or other blade of the sort good for killing trolls (I get them from bandits), I can't carry it with me everywhere, so I just lodge it in an armory tree until I need it. I thrust my arm through the knothole and groped for the blade - it was exactly what I'd hoped for, a large lance blade as long as my leg, and almost as broad as my hand.
My staff was back at the clearing, where everyone would be pitying Poor Little Ana.... I had another bout of coughing, bad enough to leave me doubled over and leaning on a tree, with an ominous taste in my mouth. Gasping - I was so short of breath - I straightened myself. More distressing than the pain in my lungs was the realized extent of my non-memory: I didn't know my full name, my age, my hometown - I didn't even know what country I was in! I could almost have pitied myself - but the instincts of self-preservation are so gloriously strong, they extend even to the psyche, and now they asked me: what do you know?
I know ... I'm not city-bred.
... I was probably human once...
I know I fight well
Doubly armed, I returned to the camp. Amelia was the first to see the lance blade.
"Wh-what are you going to do with that?" she whimpered, climbing behind Lina and Gourry.
"We did save you some fish," Lina offered with her mouth full. I shook my head, and assumed my previous seat.
"I'm not hungry," I said, stripped off my gloves and began to caress the fine traces of rust from my lance blade. Zelgadis watched with no small interest as I trued up the blade edge between my knuckles. Didn't he sharpen his sword the same way? When the blade was clean, bright and sharp, I cut a deep spiral groove with my small knife in one end of my staff, and screwed the shaft into the corkscrew end of the lance blade. By that time, everyone else was done eating; that is to say, there was nothing left to eat. The stars were out, the wind was chill, and it was high time for trolls to show up. Were they afraid of the campfire?
A terrified owl flew over my shoulder, low across the clearing, and past Gourry into the shadows; that was my cue.
"Excuse me a moment," I muttered, and jumped straight up into the canopy. Now this was a pretty dense forest, especially at canopy level, so much that almost anyone raised in the wilderlands could have run as easily there as on the ground. But to run in total silence, without jostling a branch, dropping a leaf, or waking a bird, required both familiarity and the sort of lightfooted grace I have been honing since time out of mind. In this instance, I had to remember to keep my coat in close so that nothing snagged it, and to adapt for the size and shape of my weapon.
I ran back in the direction the owl had come from, watching the ground ... and sure enough, there were the trolls, advancing on the clearing as stealthily as they knew how. There were six of them - only six? Where were the rest? It smacked disturbingly of strategy I didn't have time to consider. I got behind them and attacked.