JESSAN - A TALE OF WIZARDRY Chapter 10
Copyright 2006 Trewin Greenaway All Rights Reserved
To learn more about me and the genesis of this tale, visit my website http://www.cronnex.com/ .
I hope to post a new chapter every Saturday. If you're enjoying the story, do let me know!
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Chapter 10
I PULLED MYSELF INTO A SITTING POSITION AGAIN, and Orien sat down beside me. He put his arm around me, for I was shivering slightly, and as he did so I realized I was completely naked. Surprised, I looked around for my shirt. I had no recollection of taking it off.
Orien's arm slightly quivered; he was laughing. "Don't waste the effort," he said. "The force immediately reduced it to shreds and cast it out." He poked at something with his staff that looked like a particularly clean sort of dust. I picked some up and looked at it dumbly: it was the fabric of my shirt, reduced to the finest fluff.
I turned to look at Orien, who was himself regarding me gravely. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I think so," I said. "Why am I so exhausted?"
"For the same reason that walking through a raging storm is tiring," he replied. "But you will find that your spirit will soon strengthen to the point where you simply take pleasure in it. Which is just as well, for you will eventually spend a good deal of time enveloped by it."
I sighed. But it was true - - I did feel my strength returning. Even so, I wasn't in any hurry to get up. I stared at Orien. "Who am I?" I asked. "And for that matter, who are you?"
"Well, as to me... well, my name you already know. But others would call me the Mage Orien, for that is what I am."
I looked at his staff and smiled. "'Many purposes,' indeed," I said. "But, ashamed as I am to say this, I don't know what makes one a mage. Is it the same as being a wizard?"
Orien looked pained. "Since we should get to your first question, which is by far the most important one, I'll explain, but briefly. A mage is akin to a magician, in that he is, I am, mortal, and have acquired my powers, such as they are, through study and practice. The difference is that between a warrior lord and a common soldier. Mages belong to a brotherhood of initiates; we're bound by oath to never use our powers for mere personal aggrandizement nor to aid or abet evil.
"Wizards, on the other hand, if any still survive, belong to a species separate from men, as much as they resemble them. They live many hundred years and are the physical embodiment of one of the several minor powers. Because they are a threat to He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken, they have been hunted down and exterminated by His demon allies. I believe some still survive, but only by hiding themselves well and little meddling with the affairs of men."
Orien sighed. "And to save you from asking, the demonic race has its own users of power that mimic those of men, but are named sorcerers instead of wizards, necromancers instead of magicians, and warlocks instead of mages. They are all dangerous and fell, but none are of any concern to us now."
I could see that Orien was impatient to turn the subject to me, but I felt certain dread at what I would hear. I got to my feet and crossed the great expanse of polished floor, to where it looked over the sea. With each step I could feel the great power of this place shimmer around me. Orien arose and came with me, and we stood together looking out across the water. On it, here and there, was a scattering of fishing boats, and I felt a great yearning to be standing in one, hauling in the net.
"And the Summoner?" I asked. "What about him?"
Orien made a dismissive gesture. "A lowly creature. A man enslaved, channeling the force of his master. Such rarely live long or sink into gibbering madness, since the weight of the power that uses them is too great for their bodies or minds to bear for long. Very soon, you will find them no threat at all."
I nodded, refraining from speaking my thought, which was that, as I'd said to Alfrund about another matter, if those words were meant to reassure me, they had done no such thing.
"Are you ready now to hear about yourself?" Orien asked gently. "After all, you did ask me to tell you."
I looked at him, our eyes meeting. "Am I ready to hear what you have to tell me?" I asked.
Orien sighed. "I can't answer that with certainty," he said. "What I do know is that now you're in more danger not knowing than you're at risk from what you're about to hear. Hearing it will change you forever, it's true, but you already knew, even before what happened here this afternoon, that you were on a path of destiny very different from any other." He gestured toward my arm, where to my surprise, the Cronnex glowed, visible even in the bright sunlight that reflected off the sea.
"In the confines of this place, and others like it, the sign shows plainly, always. It does so because it signifies your sovereignty over this place, the physical manifestation of your domain. In fact, as you shall see, your very presence here will cause it to heal itself, to call back into being, bit upon bit, almost all that was torn down, except for the few parts that were contributed by the labor of men."
Strangely, this news gave me great pleasure, even as it startled me. I found I greatly desired to see Sondaram given back its physical solidity so it could reflect the great power of the site. As my mind formed this thought, a great groaning was heard, a heavy cloud spilled out of the fissures, the broken places, the gaps between stones. We were blinded, and instinctively I pulled a blanket of force around us to protect us both. There was a great rumbling, shaking the very earth beneath our feet, like boulders plummeting in an avalanche down a mountainside.
Indeed, it seemed as if we were in the middle of such, for in the murk, massive shapes tumbled about us and there was a shrieking of stone set firmly against stone. Then a cool breeze blew off the ocean, the cloud of dust flitted away, and we found ourselves standing in a great domed room, beside an opening, framed by a great arch, that gave access to a garden, lined with stone walkways, with a great view of the sea.
Even as we stood there, a fountain appeared and began gurgling; trees took root and grew, spread out branches, and produced a haze of fragrant yellow blossoms. My first thought, when my amazement faded sufficiently for thoughts to form, was that I wanted to walk these paths with my arm around Alfrund and his around me, and my head leaning against his shoulder.
This thought, with the accompanying slight swelling of my member, reminded me that I was standing here with nothing on. Embarrassed, I turned to hide it, but Orien, who had other thoughts on his mind and not even noticed this tumescence, took me by the shoulder and led me two steps through the arch. He directed my attention to the far corner of the building, which, unlike everything else, was still a ruin.
"That," Orien said, "is the tower of this place. Standing on it, you can see Gedd, if you wish, and far out over the ocean. When Wethrelast and Gostranar have also been restored, the tower attached to each will simultaneously come into being. This will, among other things, allow you to pass from one to another of them in a moment of time. But their purpose, above all, is to let you get high enough so that all the power you feel here can be focused and used with unimaginable force. Think of the tower as a funnel and you as the spout."
"Why do both the palaces have to be restored before this tower appears?" I asked.
Orien shrugged. "I don't know. But if the tower had just now appeared, your enemy would know and immediately dispatch a great army, to raze everything on this side of the mountains and kill every living being. And you could do nothing yet to prevent it. So perhaps the fact that it alone remains in ruins is a sign that you haven't yet attained all the power that is yours to wield."
He turned back into the great room. As I entered it beside him, a great blue flame rose from the floor in its center, reaching up to the roof of the dome. As we came closer, I saw that it was not a flame at all, for it pulsed rather than flickered and it began a span or so above the floor. So did the power of Sondaram manifest itself.
I stepped into it and felt it surge about me. As Orien had predicted, the experience was already less draining, and I could sense the reverse would soon be true. It was like running a long distance. The first time, at the end, your legs shook, pain stabbed in your side, and you gasped for breath. But as time passed, the same distance brought out the strength that had grown within, and at the end you felt not tired but glorious.
I stepped back out. "We should go back," I said. "More time than we allowed for has passed and Grysta and Alfrund will be worried about me."
Orien snorted. "Grysta and Alfrund know full well where you are and who you are with. And time has not passed. Inside these walls it moves at a pace determined by you. When we step outside Sondaram, you will find the sun in almost the same place as when you stepped in.
"However, if you need some time to rest, explore your palace for a room comfortable for sleep. I will wait here and be ready to continue when you are refreshed."
These words stung a little because they touched on a truth that I had attempted to hide - - I felt I had experienced enough for one day. Orien and Onna, I thought, would get along together famously. But it was true that a good rest was just what I did need. And, almost as much, I was curious to see more of this place. I looked around, this time not toward the sea, but in the direction from which we had originally come.
The entryway to the room in which we were now standing had on one side a grand stairway that rose to the next floor, its steps made of thick slabs of a shiny black stone shot through with glowing streaks of yellow and red. I climbed these and discovered that they led to a gallery that circled the great dome and into which opened a series of rooms, each one possessing an elaborately worked wooden door. These had no latch strings but instead a heavy silver ring that, when turned, allowed the door to be swung open.
Each of these rooms was empty of furnishings or anything else, such objects apparently being the things "contributed by the labor of men" that Orien had said the magic would not restore. Well, all this stonework was fine enough, but right now I would gladly give a column or two for a soft bed and a blanket in which to wrap myself.
I found none, however, and eventually chose a room where the narrow windows looked out to the north, letting in a soft and soothing light. I crossed it to the darkest corner and began to lie down on the floor. But as I did, I felt the force rising up to meet me. Of course, I lay on top of it, as if it were a mattress. So floating comfortably an arm's length above the flagstones, I rested my head on one of my arms and fell almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When I next opened my eyes again, I had no idea how long this had gone on, for the light was exactly the same as it had been when I had closed them. But I felt fully refreshed and strong enough, if still not particularly willing, to learn my fate. I stood up and headed down the glowing flight of stairs to Orien.
I FOUND HIM IN THE GREAT ROOM, sitting on one of the marble ledges that ran around its side. He was staring at the great shimmering display in the center of the room. "Do you know," he asked me, when I sat down beside him, "what would happen if I were to stick my arm into that."
"I suppose it would do just what does to me," I answered, "flow around you. And, if you commanded it, lift you up. After all, you are a mage."
"It would eat my flesh down to the bone in an instant," he said, "and if I left it there still, burn away the bone as well. Even though I am, as you say, a mage, and a very powerful one."
I stared at the mass of ethereal, pulsating blue in confusion. It had never for one second occurred to me that it might be dangerous, not in the sense that Orien described. Unlike water, you could breathe in it, but like water, if you stayed immersed in it too long you could drown.
"You would have warned me," I said at last, "if it were dangerous." But as I said these words I realized that once I had felt the force I had forgotten Orien's very presence. It had drawn me to it as mother drew a son. And then I realized what he meant. "And Alfrund?" I asked.
"The same as me. And, as well, Grysta, the Lord of the Fort, the Summoner, anyone else on this side of the mountains - - and on the other side of them as well, save one, or maybe two beings who are not unlike you."
I asked the question I most dreaded the answer to. "Am I not human then?"
"No," Orien said quietly. "You are not. You look like us, you experience the same emotions, you even, mostly, think like us. But that is just to make it possible for you to follow your destiny, which is deeply entwined with our own. You are one of the Nithaial, or the Intermediaries, as they were also called, between mortals and Gesryma, the Great Mother of Blessed Name.
"Now there is one other thing you should know about yourself. Since the beginning of things, there have always been two of you, Galgaliel, the one of light, and Elimiel, the one of darkness. You Jessan, are the light one, and we now seek everywhere for your darkling twin."
"There is another of ... of me?" I asked.
Orien nodded. "So we dearly hope," he said. He pointed down to the floor, paved with tiny tiles. These, over and over again, repeated an emblem, half of which was displayed upon my inner arm. "The Cronnex," he said. "You are one half; he is the other. You play the day to his night. Yours are the powers of air and water; his of earth and fire. In the old days, either in your separate palaces or together at Gostranar, your shared home, your role would have been to watch over and shepherd all human life."
He sighed and shook his head. "But these are not the old days, and what is destined for you now is not clear. We mages are practiced farseers, but in this instance our vision has been blocked."
"Does Alfrund know all this about me?" I blurted out. "Is that why he refused to become my lover?"
Orien smiled. "Ah, Jessan, always putting the important things first. I actually have no idea what Alfrund knows, but I don't doubt that he suspects enough to understand he couldn't offer you that.
"Even so, he loves you, and sees you as a charming boy who also just happens to be about to come into great powers. As, in her way, does Grysta. Unlike them, I knew what you are before I met you, and so as much as you have charmed me, too, I look upon you in fear and trembling, and so perhaps see you more clearly."
"Don't say that," I said hotly. "It's just nonsense. I may have these powers, but I am still Jessan."
Orien raised an eyebrow. "It ill befits an old warrior and mage such as myself to sit trembling in your presence, but that is just how I feel. Tell me, if you believe otherwise, where I should draw the line between the Jessan who washed my feet and rubbed them with salve and the Jessan who stepped lightly into that manifestation of elemental power we see before us and instinctively bent it to his will?" He lay his hand upon my knee and added, "I humbly suggest that you might consider being a little afraid of you, yourself."
He stood up. "I think you have heard enough from me for one day, as much as there is left to tell." He looked at me then, and smiled. He went to his shoulder bag, which he had left with his staff, and from it, after rummaging a bit, withdrew a folded garment. "Here," he said, "put this on. It is my nightshirt, and so will look a little strange, but not like strolling through town with nothing on at all."
After I had pulled it on, we walked around Sondaram for one last time, and I absorbed of it what I could. When we stepped onto the plaza that spreads outside it, I found that, just as Orien had predicted, the sun had hardly moved. I had also thought that great doors would close behind us when we left, but that was not so. They did not need to do so.
When we reached the top of the ridge, I turned back for a final look. It glittered in colors as brightly as the sea, as fragile-seeming as a jeweled box. When I mentioned this to Orien he said, "Jessan, nothing can enter Sondaram without your permission. And to harm the place they have to kill you first. Even then, as you have seen, the damage is only an illusion."
"Wouldn't it be wiser for me to stay here then?" I asked.
"No!" Orien said vehemently, "the wise thing is to get you as far from Sondaram as fast as possible. There is nothing your enemy would like better than to pen you in here and wait until you were driven mad by the confinement. You might kill thousands of them, which would itself make you ill from effort, but your enemy has no shortage of warriors, believe me. They would come and come until their bodies were heaped about as high as the hills. And they would still come. Sondaram is an abode of peace, not war, or at least not until its tower is raised."
After this exchange, I gave up any effort of conversation, wishing only to be as far away from Orien for the rest of the day as I possibly could. And perhaps he sensed this, for he told me when we reached Grysta's door that he had other business to attend to and would not come to the house until the following day.
Naturally, though, he left me with a cheerful parting. "The reappearance of Sondaram will hardly go unnoticed; the Lord of the Fort will soon post a guard there - - I would be surprised if a squad is not hurrying through Gedd already. And now that he knows for certain you didn't drown, he will be considering what he should do next. It would be just as well for you to return to being strictly the Jessan who is Grysta's grandson and Alfrund's twerë."
"I don't know how to be anything else," I said shortly, and went in and slammed the door.
==============TO BE CONTINUED===============