Dylan spent the next two weeks following the same routine. Most of the lessons were of similar nature. One lesson consisted of a handful of oddly shaped blocks of wood accompanied by a card showing an outline. His task was to arrange the blocks to match the outline. They had given him dozens of those cards and made him do each and every one. The game got easier as the day went on, though. Dylan began to see patterns as to how one or two blocks almost always were together. There were other examples, of patterns, and when Kayla finally came to speak to him, he questioned her about his discovery. She appeared very pleased and encouraged him by telling him that he was beginning to think in the right way. She confided in him that if he kept learning as he had the first five days, that he would be moving out of the meditation phase very soon. That was fine with Dylan. He was ready to start studying anyhow.
The weeks dragged out. Dylan lost track of how many days the same routine continued. The only thing that varied from day to day were the occasional changes in the faces of his fellow initiates as they were also led to and from their cells.
A young boy with bright red hair had been in the cell next to him for some time. Since forbidden to speak, their conversations consisted only of brief glances and smiles as they passed each other every day.
Then one day the boy was no longer there. Dylan wondered what happened to him, but refrained from using what little freedom of speech he had on a question that was irrelevant.
The cell his friend had occupied was soon occupied again by a child with long jet black hair. Dylan could not tell from the brief glances as to whether it was a boy or a girl.
He had been there for what must have been several weeks when one morning instead of the usual escort to his lesson, Master Tesron entered the cell. Dylan stood attentively awaiting instructions.
The mage eyed him as if performing an inspection. "You may speak," he informed Dylan. "Tell me, how do you feel?"
"I only woke up a short while ago," Dylan answered automatically. "But I’ve eaten and I’m not sick or in pain, so I can only say that I feel well."
Tesron nodded. "I’ll send Kayla to fetch you later this morning," he told the boy. "When she arrives, you’ll no longer be bound to silence. You are now ready to begin your studies."
Dylan could not help the smile that crept on his face. If Tesron saw it, he made no indication that it was improper or that it was unexpected.
"I suggest you take a few minutes to clean this cell. You won’t be needing it any longer so gather your things." Tesron did not wait for a question or a reply. He simply turned and left the cell.
Dylan wanted to shout for joy. He had grown used to the treatment over the last few weeks, but still it was much like captivity, and he was finally being given a degree of freedom.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Chapter 1 Part 3
The next morning, Dylan awoke as the sounds of doors opening and closing in the hallway interrupted his dreams. The remains of his evening meal sat on the small table next to the pitcher of water.
Dylan uncovered himself and dressed quickly. He then washed his face and folded the blanket he had slept under. The other blanket, he had rolled into a pillow. The nights were not cold there and he really did not need the extra cover.
The sounds of the doors opening grew louder and eventually Dylan heard a rattling at his own door. It was obviously the key in the lock for Dylan had checked the door after Kayla had left the night before and discovered that he had been locked in.
When the door opened a green clothed initiate motioned for Dylan to exit the cell. Dylan complied and the task leader gently pushed Dylan up against the wall outside his cell. Dylan glanced up and down the hall and saw several other boys and girls in the same situation as he was.
The green initiate moved on to the next door and Dylan watched closely as a young girl exited. She had long dark hair and brown eyes. She stood about half a head taller than Dylan, and was very thin. She was also frightened.
The cell across from her was unlocked and opened. The initiate motioned for the occupant to exit, but received no response. Finally the green tunic initiate entered the cell and moments later reemerged with another little boy in tow. The boy too was scared and wept. This seemed to make the initiate angry and he leaned close and whispered into the little boy's ear. Whatever he said, it stopped the fit of crying and the boy stiffened resolutely.
The process continued for several long moments until about twenty children in all were standing at attention outside their cells. The initiate in green made a motion and twenty other initiates entered the hallway and paired off one to each of the newcomers.
"You each are to be escorted to a place where you will spend the day," the task leader announced. "Your escort will then depart and you are not to leave. What you do during the day is up to you. Breakfast will be served in about one hour and lunch will follow six hours later. Your escorts will return later this evening to bring you back here where your supper will be waiting." The task leader toyed with his rope-belt absently. "Remember that you’re bound to silence. The Rite of Meditation is for you to think and reflect."
When he had finished the task leader opened the door and the first newcomer and his escort departed followed by the second pair. Almost without being urged, Dylan and his escort, a chubby fellow about the same height as himself, though a little older fell into line and departed.
Once through the door, Dylan's escort introduced himself as Carl as he led their way. He spoke in hushed whispers, and advised Dylan that whatever he found in his day-room, he should study it and play with it until he knew everything about it.
Dylan nodded and followed as directed. After a long trek through the upper levels of the Academy, they arrived at a hall similar to the one where Dylan had spent the night.
Carl wore two keys about his neck. One, Dylan recognized as the key to the door of his cell. The other Carl used to unlock the day-room and motioned Dylan inside. Dylan stepped through the door and it immediately closed behind him. He heard the lock turn and resigned himself to the day ahead.
The room was for the most part bare. A chair and table occupied the center of the room and a table, pitcher and chamber pot similar to those in his quarters occupied one corner.
On the table was short length of chain composed of about ten to fifteen links. A large block lay on one side of the room, one of its faces had a thick hook embedded in its center.
Dylan ignored the table and its contents for a fair amount of time. He spent an hour at least exploring his room. Then there was a rattle at the door and an initiate appeared carrying a tray of food. The girl placed the tray on the table and then without a glance or word left.
Dylan decided to eat while the food was still hot even though he was not very hungry. He toyed absently with the bit of chain. He knew that the purpose of him being locked away was for him to be able to concentrate without distraction. The chain was supposed to help him do something, and figuring out what that might be was part of the task.
The chain was actually not very well constructed. He had seen better ones on the farm. This one was pitted and had a weak link. The plantation blacksmith had always been fond of the old saying that a chain was only as strong as its weakest link. Dylan wondered if that was what message he was supposed to draw from the day's lesson. If so, he was already very far ahead of what they expected of him.
His self image was shattered about two hours later when Kayla entered the room. She looked critically at him and then fetched the chain from the table. She held it up and examined it closely.
She reached into a small shoulder bag and drew forth a hook with a handle at the base. “This is what should be used to pull that block across the room. Beneath the block is a small chamber in which a bell is hidden. I want you to move the block using this hook and that chain. You mustn’t touch the block itself. When you move the block, you may ring the bell and your test will be complete. If we don’t hear from you by the time for the evening meal, I’ll come back."
Dylan nodded as she turned and left. He retrieved the chain from the table where she had left it. He took the chain and hook and approached the block. The most obvious solution was probably the wrong one, but it had to be tried.
He hooked one end of the chain to the block and put the point of the handle hook through the other end. Then he gave a great heave only to see the weak link stretching out. He knew that if he kept pulling that the chain would break, so he stopped.
The only way that he could move the block would be to somehow repair the chain, but how could he make the chain stronger? The only thing he could think of was to replace the weak link. But there was no obvious means available to do that.
Dylan worked the problem over many times in his head and still had no solution when the apprentice returned for him. When she entered, she closed the door behind her and held out her hand expectantly. Dylan approached and placed the chain in her hand. The young woman held it by the center most link and the two halves hung down on either side.
“I see that the block remains in its place. You may speak briefly," she told him. "Before I move the block for you, tell me, what’s the thing that prevented you from moving the block?"
Dylan hung his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "there’s a weak link that would break if I pulled too hard, and I couldn't think of a way to repair it."
Kayla smiled and rubbed the top of his head. "At least you’re honest about it and aren’t trying to hide your failure with guesses and lies. Don’t worry," she assured him. "You were expected to fail this test--most initiates do. Those that get it right are usually just lucky and never learn the lesson it’s meant to teach."
"Which is?"
Kayla held the chain out by one end. "That the answer to a problem is usually very simple. Also it teaches us not to let our minds limit us by making assumptions."
"What assumptions?"
"You assumed that I wanted you to repair the weak link, didn’t you?"
Dylan was puzzled. Wasn't that the only way to move the block? "Yes."
"I only asked you to move the block." She replaced the chain on the block’s hook, then removed the handle hook. She moved it up the chain and reset the hook to the chain in front of the weak link. Then she pulled on the chain and hove the block a foot across the floor.
"The simplest of answers." She told him. “But you were expecting something more compex and so you made the problem harder than it was. This is the lesson that you needed to learn today. Sometimes your own mind can be your worst enemy.”
Dylan understood. "I see," he agreed.
Kayla tossed the chain back onto the table. "Well, enough of that for today," she said. "Is there anything you want to ask or tell me?"
Dylan inquired only if future lessons would be like that one. She assured him that they would all be similar and at the same time different.
He wanted to keep talking since he had not seen anyone else all day, but he could not think of anything. Kayla accepted his silence and then warned him that he was again bound to silence. She also told him that someone would soon come by to escort him back to his room. Then she turned and left.
When Dylan was returned to his cell, he found hot food awaiting him. He ate thoughtfully recalling the lesson he had been shown with the chain. Kayla was right. He had looked for a complex answer to the problem.
The next day, Dylan was given a deck of cards. Instead of wasting part of the day investigating the room, Dylan immediately began to go over each card in detail. There appeared to be five types of cards with each type containing the same number of cards. Dylan could count at least--his father had taught him that much. He also knew how to play several card games that children learn.
Near the latter part of the day, Gage visited him. Gage opened the door and stepped inside and noted the cards. "What you have here," Gage explained, "is a common deck of cards much like what you would find in anywhere." He pulled up a chair and watched Dylan closely for several moments.
"I want you to build me a house with those cards," Gage finally told him.
Dylan was startled for a few moments. Build a house? He had done so on occasion, but he had not really enjoyed the game. Nevertheless, Dylan proceeded to construct a crude house. When he finished, Gage nodded with a look that was something less than impressed.
"Today's task was to give you something with which you were familiar with its purpose and then suddenly ask you to do something irrational with it." Gage knocked the house down. "You must be ready to use things in any way that you can to accomplish your ends. If you let circumstances limit your flexibility, then you weaken yourself. The word for this is paradigm. Do not let yourself get caught in paradigms."
"You may speak if you wish," Gage told him.
"I need to learn to look for ways to use things other than the way they were intended?" Gage asked.
"Exactly," Gage answered. He reached into his robe and drew forth the length of chain from the previous day. "What is this?"
"A chain," Dylan replied automatically.
"And what is its use?"
"To bind things?" It was a feeble answer with a questioning lilt. Gage frowned, but Dylan really didn't know where the questions were leading.
"Is that all it is?"
It was Dylan's turn to frown. "I don't understand your question."
With a whirl, Gage flicked his wrist and the free end of the chain whipped out and coiled around the nearest leg of the table. Then Gage heaved on the chain and the table leg came off sending the table, cards and all crashing to the ground.
"It can also be a good weapon," Gage pointed out. "That is what today's lesson is about. Try to see many uses in everything."
Dylan nodded his understanding. "Good," Gage approved. "Return to your meditation and silence. Someone will come escort you back to your place momentarily."
Dylan uncovered himself and dressed quickly. He then washed his face and folded the blanket he had slept under. The other blanket, he had rolled into a pillow. The nights were not cold there and he really did not need the extra cover.
The sounds of the doors opening grew louder and eventually Dylan heard a rattling at his own door. It was obviously the key in the lock for Dylan had checked the door after Kayla had left the night before and discovered that he had been locked in.
When the door opened a green clothed initiate motioned for Dylan to exit the cell. Dylan complied and the task leader gently pushed Dylan up against the wall outside his cell. Dylan glanced up and down the hall and saw several other boys and girls in the same situation as he was.
The green initiate moved on to the next door and Dylan watched closely as a young girl exited. She had long dark hair and brown eyes. She stood about half a head taller than Dylan, and was very thin. She was also frightened.
The cell across from her was unlocked and opened. The initiate motioned for the occupant to exit, but received no response. Finally the green tunic initiate entered the cell and moments later reemerged with another little boy in tow. The boy too was scared and wept. This seemed to make the initiate angry and he leaned close and whispered into the little boy's ear. Whatever he said, it stopped the fit of crying and the boy stiffened resolutely.
The process continued for several long moments until about twenty children in all were standing at attention outside their cells. The initiate in green made a motion and twenty other initiates entered the hallway and paired off one to each of the newcomers.
"You each are to be escorted to a place where you will spend the day," the task leader announced. "Your escort will then depart and you are not to leave. What you do during the day is up to you. Breakfast will be served in about one hour and lunch will follow six hours later. Your escorts will return later this evening to bring you back here where your supper will be waiting." The task leader toyed with his rope-belt absently. "Remember that you’re bound to silence. The Rite of Meditation is for you to think and reflect."
When he had finished the task leader opened the door and the first newcomer and his escort departed followed by the second pair. Almost without being urged, Dylan and his escort, a chubby fellow about the same height as himself, though a little older fell into line and departed.
Once through the door, Dylan's escort introduced himself as Carl as he led their way. He spoke in hushed whispers, and advised Dylan that whatever he found in his day-room, he should study it and play with it until he knew everything about it.
Dylan nodded and followed as directed. After a long trek through the upper levels of the Academy, they arrived at a hall similar to the one where Dylan had spent the night.
Carl wore two keys about his neck. One, Dylan recognized as the key to the door of his cell. The other Carl used to unlock the day-room and motioned Dylan inside. Dylan stepped through the door and it immediately closed behind him. He heard the lock turn and resigned himself to the day ahead.
The room was for the most part bare. A chair and table occupied the center of the room and a table, pitcher and chamber pot similar to those in his quarters occupied one corner.
On the table was short length of chain composed of about ten to fifteen links. A large block lay on one side of the room, one of its faces had a thick hook embedded in its center.
Dylan ignored the table and its contents for a fair amount of time. He spent an hour at least exploring his room. Then there was a rattle at the door and an initiate appeared carrying a tray of food. The girl placed the tray on the table and then without a glance or word left.
Dylan decided to eat while the food was still hot even though he was not very hungry. He toyed absently with the bit of chain. He knew that the purpose of him being locked away was for him to be able to concentrate without distraction. The chain was supposed to help him do something, and figuring out what that might be was part of the task.
The chain was actually not very well constructed. He had seen better ones on the farm. This one was pitted and had a weak link. The plantation blacksmith had always been fond of the old saying that a chain was only as strong as its weakest link. Dylan wondered if that was what message he was supposed to draw from the day's lesson. If so, he was already very far ahead of what they expected of him.
His self image was shattered about two hours later when Kayla entered the room. She looked critically at him and then fetched the chain from the table. She held it up and examined it closely.
She reached into a small shoulder bag and drew forth a hook with a handle at the base. “This is what should be used to pull that block across the room. Beneath the block is a small chamber in which a bell is hidden. I want you to move the block using this hook and that chain. You mustn’t touch the block itself. When you move the block, you may ring the bell and your test will be complete. If we don’t hear from you by the time for the evening meal, I’ll come back."
Dylan nodded as she turned and left. He retrieved the chain from the table where she had left it. He took the chain and hook and approached the block. The most obvious solution was probably the wrong one, but it had to be tried.
He hooked one end of the chain to the block and put the point of the handle hook through the other end. Then he gave a great heave only to see the weak link stretching out. He knew that if he kept pulling that the chain would break, so he stopped.
The only way that he could move the block would be to somehow repair the chain, but how could he make the chain stronger? The only thing he could think of was to replace the weak link. But there was no obvious means available to do that.
Dylan worked the problem over many times in his head and still had no solution when the apprentice returned for him. When she entered, she closed the door behind her and held out her hand expectantly. Dylan approached and placed the chain in her hand. The young woman held it by the center most link and the two halves hung down on either side.
“I see that the block remains in its place. You may speak briefly," she told him. "Before I move the block for you, tell me, what’s the thing that prevented you from moving the block?"
Dylan hung his head. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "there’s a weak link that would break if I pulled too hard, and I couldn't think of a way to repair it."
Kayla smiled and rubbed the top of his head. "At least you’re honest about it and aren’t trying to hide your failure with guesses and lies. Don’t worry," she assured him. "You were expected to fail this test--most initiates do. Those that get it right are usually just lucky and never learn the lesson it’s meant to teach."
"Which is?"
Kayla held the chain out by one end. "That the answer to a problem is usually very simple. Also it teaches us not to let our minds limit us by making assumptions."
"What assumptions?"
"You assumed that I wanted you to repair the weak link, didn’t you?"
Dylan was puzzled. Wasn't that the only way to move the block? "Yes."
"I only asked you to move the block." She replaced the chain on the block’s hook, then removed the handle hook. She moved it up the chain and reset the hook to the chain in front of the weak link. Then she pulled on the chain and hove the block a foot across the floor.
"The simplest of answers." She told him. “But you were expecting something more compex and so you made the problem harder than it was. This is the lesson that you needed to learn today. Sometimes your own mind can be your worst enemy.”
Dylan understood. "I see," he agreed.
Kayla tossed the chain back onto the table. "Well, enough of that for today," she said. "Is there anything you want to ask or tell me?"
Dylan inquired only if future lessons would be like that one. She assured him that they would all be similar and at the same time different.
He wanted to keep talking since he had not seen anyone else all day, but he could not think of anything. Kayla accepted his silence and then warned him that he was again bound to silence. She also told him that someone would soon come by to escort him back to his room. Then she turned and left.
When Dylan was returned to his cell, he found hot food awaiting him. He ate thoughtfully recalling the lesson he had been shown with the chain. Kayla was right. He had looked for a complex answer to the problem.
The next day, Dylan was given a deck of cards. Instead of wasting part of the day investigating the room, Dylan immediately began to go over each card in detail. There appeared to be five types of cards with each type containing the same number of cards. Dylan could count at least--his father had taught him that much. He also knew how to play several card games that children learn.
Near the latter part of the day, Gage visited him. Gage opened the door and stepped inside and noted the cards. "What you have here," Gage explained, "is a common deck of cards much like what you would find in anywhere." He pulled up a chair and watched Dylan closely for several moments.
"I want you to build me a house with those cards," Gage finally told him.
Dylan was startled for a few moments. Build a house? He had done so on occasion, but he had not really enjoyed the game. Nevertheless, Dylan proceeded to construct a crude house. When he finished, Gage nodded with a look that was something less than impressed.
"Today's task was to give you something with which you were familiar with its purpose and then suddenly ask you to do something irrational with it." Gage knocked the house down. "You must be ready to use things in any way that you can to accomplish your ends. If you let circumstances limit your flexibility, then you weaken yourself. The word for this is paradigm. Do not let yourself get caught in paradigms."
"You may speak if you wish," Gage told him.
"I need to learn to look for ways to use things other than the way they were intended?" Gage asked.
"Exactly," Gage answered. He reached into his robe and drew forth the length of chain from the previous day. "What is this?"
"A chain," Dylan replied automatically.
"And what is its use?"
"To bind things?" It was a feeble answer with a questioning lilt. Gage frowned, but Dylan really didn't know where the questions were leading.
"Is that all it is?"
It was Dylan's turn to frown. "I don't understand your question."
With a whirl, Gage flicked his wrist and the free end of the chain whipped out and coiled around the nearest leg of the table. Then Gage heaved on the chain and the table leg came off sending the table, cards and all crashing to the ground.
"It can also be a good weapon," Gage pointed out. "That is what today's lesson is about. Try to see many uses in everything."
Dylan nodded his understanding. "Good," Gage approved. "Return to your meditation and silence. Someone will come escort you back to your place momentarily."
Chapter 1 Part 2
The next morning, Dylan gathered the small sack of things that he had packed and descended the ladder to find the two mages waiting for him. He had gotten up early so that he could be prepared for them, but instead they along with his father were sitting at the table talking quietly. His mother was still asleep, and for that he was glad.
"Are you ready to go, son?" his father asked in a whisper.
Dylan stood straight and tall. He put a brave front up and nodded. "I'm ready," he added.
The two mages stood and Tesron nodded grimly. Gage, the journeyman opened the door and the master left the house with Dylan and his father in tow. Outside, Dylan's father hugged the boy close and tightly for a few long moments. When they finally parted, there was moisture in the man's eyes that matched that of his son.
"Study hard and make me proud," Learth urged.
"I promise I will," Dylan answered.
Tesron mumbled something and Gage guided Dylan away towards the wagon that the two mages were traveling in. Behind them Tesron had a few final words with Dylan's father.
"We want to get away from the farm before your mother or the rest of the community wake," Gage told him. "Long good-byes are not good for you or your parents. Do not worry, the first few years will go by very fast, and you may yet have the opportunity to visit home on occasion."
Dylan swallowed the lump in his throat and climbed aboard the wagon and sat in the seat. Gage sat in the seat next to him. "There are many lessons for you to learn," Gage informed him politely. "Try to learn them quickly and your life will be very easy."
Dylan looked up questioningly.
"The first lesson is that the master sits in the seat and the student sits in the back of the wagon," he said jerking his head rearward.
Dylan understood and vacated the seat. He crawled over several large boxes and sacks to find a nook between a basket and the water barrel. He put his meager belongings in the nook and then leaned against the basket.
A few moments later the master, Tesron climbed into the seat and directed Gage to start the horses. The wagon creaked mutely but soon fell into rhythm as the wheels fell into long worn ruts on the road.
"Boy come closer," the master called.
Dylan crawled over the luggage and sat between and behind the two mages. "Yes, master?"
Tesron turned and appraise the youth. His expression was friendly, but the eyes were hard. "There are many things that you will need to learn," he told his newest student. "For the moment, you need only know that for a long time you will see very few people and will not be allowed to speak. It is not meant as punishment, but the solitude and silence will help you to develop self discipline and concentration. These skills cannot be taught, and until you discover them within yourself, you will not be able to learn."
Tesron placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Gage will help you through this trying time, and when you have completed this all important lesson, you will be tutored by one of my apprentices as I have promised your family." The elf glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Dylan. The boy found the fact that Gage was going to be his first instructor comforting.
Tesron turned back to face the road and took the reigns while Gage stood and stepped over the seat to join Dylan in the back of the wagon. He sat across from Dylan and looked long and hard at him.
"Starting today," Gage told him, "you are bound to silence. You will be given permission to speak on occasion so if you have questions or requests, you must remember them and make them known at the proper time. In addition, when you are allowed to speak, it will be for a short time, so you must also prioritize your talk to ask or request what is most important first. This is to train your mind to remember many things and to make judgments based on need. Also you will spend this short time in a cell by yourself. The solitude will help you to meditate and to come to terms with yourself."
Gage noted that Dylan was anxious to ask a question, but Gage had once been through the same tasking. "This rarely lasts more than about three weeks, but if you find it hard to maintain your bearing, it may last much longer." Dylan's urgent question seemed to loose its urgency as Gage had answered it for him. Gage smiled. "Try to remember that all of us have gone through the same thing. The questions are almost always the same at first, so do not be too surprised if, in the beginning, you find that all your questions are answered without you having to ask them.
Gage noted Dylan's pack. "You will also be stripped of your possessions for a while. You will be given a smock to wear until you have passed through the initiation phase.
Afterward, your things will be given back to you, and you will be placed in with the other initiates and assigned chores and a tutor."
"While you are bound to silence, there will be brief periods of time when others will try to goad you or trick you into speaking without permission. We encourage them to do this by rewarding them if they are successful. This is to test your resolve and self control. Do not let them get to you."
Gage finished his instruction. He leaned back against the large sack of what looked like grain. "You will not be given a chance to speak until later today," he said at last. "Though this does not count towards your tasking, it will give you a chance to get used to it before we get to Allentown."
Dylan watched as Gage returned to the seat and accepted the reigns from Tesron.
They rode all day at a leisurely pace. Gage and Tesron kept to themselves for the most part and ignored Dylan. The only time they even acknowledged his existence was when they stopped at an inn in a village for the night. Gage directed Dylan to carry Tesron's baggage up to the room they had rented and then join them in the common room for the evening meal.
Dylan did as he was told, finding the bags relatively heavy and getting them up the two flights of stairs left him breathing heavily. He left them in the room and then went to join his master at the table.
When he was seated, Tesron immediately addressed him. "Take a few moments to ask any question that you may have at this time, and also let us know what you would like to eat. Keep in mind that once the food arrives, you will again be bound to silence."
Dylan nodded. During the day he had thought of many questions, but at the moment he could recall only a few. "How long will it be until we get to Allentown?"
"Two days," Gage answered.
Dylan opened his mouth to ask another question, but none came to mind. He decided to ask for something to eat, but had no idea what was available. He could see the mages reading from a sheet of hard paper. Dylan could not read, and did not want to test their patience "Please order for me whatever you think’ll be best," he asked.
"Strange choice," Gage noted with a half smile. "He has decided that since he can not read the menu to throw the decision back at us."
"It’s his decision," Tesron noted without taking his eyes from the paper. "He’ll dine this night on steamed vegetables."
Gage smirked at the frown on Dylan's face. He hated vegetables.
"In life," Tesron lectured, "you’ll usually be expected to accept the consequences of your decisions."
"Now is as good a time as any to begin," Gage added.
Dylan ate in silence. He was bound and determined to succeed and damned the vegetables if necessary. His resolve did falter somewhat as he quietly and with great reluctance forked a sprout of asparagus and put it in his mouth. He noted that the journeyman, Gage, was thoroughly amused by the display of disgust that forced itself onto his face as the food hit his taste.
The rest of the night went mostly uneventful. With the exception of a horrid taste in his mouth, Dylan felt very good. He was still bound to silence, but Gage had given him more direction as they made their way back to the rooms while Tesron paid for their meal.
"During the Rite of Meditation, as this time you are in is called, you will not be required to perform chores or labor for anyone except yourself. Likewise, no one will go out of their way to do anything for you either. This is to teach you independence and prioritization. Master Tesron will support you financially since you are not working for wages, but you must learn your lessons else you will be returned to you family in disgrace. And none of us want that."
Gage left Dylan at the door to the room they had arranged for him. Gage and Tesron were sharing the room next door to his. Dylan thought it strange at first that he should have a private room whereas the journeyman and master shared quarters. The arrangement only went to show Dylan how important the Rite of Meditation was to his master.
Dylan slept well that night, and the next morning he woke and bathed on his own and was ready to depart without instruction. Though neither mage commented on this, Dylan did receive a look of approval from Tesron.
He was not allowed to speak until they stopped for lunch at which time he inquired only if there were any special circumstances by which he could break his silence if the situation warranted it. Tesron simply told him that it was his decision to make as to what warranted breaking his silence, but that as always, he would be made to accept the consequences of his decision.
Dylan found that with solid thinking, careful observation and patience, he was answering his own questions and had very few to ask when he was allowed. The day of their arrival in Allentown, he wanted very much to ask permission to see the city, but he need not have asked. He decided that he would be allowed to visit the city at some point, and that it would have to wait until then.
Allentown's tent section was a massive carnival of peddlers and charlatans who traded everything imaginable. Dylan watched with excited curiosity as the tents drifted by and merchants called out to the riders.
After about an hour of winding through the tents, the wagon passed through a set of rough gates that were rusted open. Allentown's defenses had fallen into dreadful disrepair. The gates would never hold back against any size of ram, and the walls could be scaled without a ladder. The structures were not so much for defense as they were for serving as the boundary between the tents and the proper citizenry.
The middle city was where the craftsman shops, taverns, and residences were. The streets were packed clay and when dry very serviceable. During heavy rains, however, the streets were a mess.
Dylan took in the surroundings enthusiastically, but reserved until they passed through a large archway which served as a portal in a thick and tall hedge line. Before them, Dylan saw the Academy. It was an expanse of many interconnected buildings. The walkways between buildings wove in and out of gardens and floral arrangements of great beauty containing exquisite sculptured works. To one side was a large structure which Gage informed him was one of five of the great libraries of the world.
"The other three known libraries are in Keron, Tycho and Haganaw. Legend states that a fifth library existed in the far south, but was lost long ago when one of the great southern cities was wiped out by a plague and fell into ruin."
Dylan immediately wanted to ask how someone could lose a library, but due to his enforced silence, he had no choice but to hold his question. Instead he listened attentively to the journeyman as he also pointed out another great complex adjacent to the library. It was the guild hall of magic. That was the guild to which all magic using professions belonged.
Gage droned on as the wagon approached the front steps of the Academy. Dylan's attention was captured by a scene not far from the doors. Another wagon of similar nature to theirs was parked. A black robed mage and a small boy about his own age were unloading the baggage. As they rode closer, the mage mounted the steps and entered the hall.
Two boys perhaps a year or two older exited immediately afterward. They were dressed in plain white tunics and wore sandals. As they passed the wagon, one turned to address the smaller boy who patiently awaited his master.
"What’s your name?" the older boy asked, but received no reply.
"He doesn't want to speak," his comrade noted. "I bet he’s in the Rite of Meditation."
"But his master isn't here. Neither are any other masters, journeymen or apprentices." He redressed the silent boy. "So you can talk. We won't tell."
"Yeah," the second promised. "So what’s your name?"
The silent boy started hesitantly, then glanced around briefly. He appeared as if he were about to speak, when he spied Tesron's wagon and its occupants approaching. Then he aborted any thought of speaking.
The two other boys noted this as well, and ceased their interview and resumed their chores. Gage and Tesron had not missed the episode. Dylan heard them talking softly so as not to be overheard by the small silent boy.
"He almost gave in," Gage observed.
"He would have if we hadn't been here," Tesron agreed. "I'm afraid that he won't last very long. He was too willing to try to get away with speaking during his Rite of Meditation. He doesn’t have proper respect for the rules."
"He will break them if he thinks he can get away with it," Gage agreed.
Dylan listened and digested what had transpired. He resolved to be on his guard against older students trying to trick him into talking. He also caught a brief glimpse of insight. He was on guard against the older students because he learned from another person's experience. Was it possible that one of the lessons the Rite of Meditation taught was the value of learning from another's mistakes and successes?
When Tesron's wagon stopped, Gage and Dylan unloaded the supplies while Tesron entered the hall. Fortunately, though three older students did pass by, and their expressions clearly indicated that they would like to harass the newcomer, Gage's scowl sent them scurrying by leaving Dylan unmolested.
Gage and Dylan delivered the baggage to the front door where a set of small pushing carts awaited. They loaded the bags onto the carts and Dylan was instructed to push the cart as they followed Tesron.
Tesron reappeared almost immediately with a hand full of papers. He led them into back into the building and absently read his mail as they walked down the polished corridors of the large complex.
Dylan pushed the cart as he was told. It was not difficult and his attention wandered as he took in his surroundings.
The entrance hall was very large with a marble floor and rich tapestries. An open door to one side of the hall showed a small room with a wall lined with tiny open boxes. A black robed mage was taking some papers similar to those that Tesron carried from one of those boxes.
The rest of the hall was decorated with paintings, statues and floral arrangements. At regular intervals a large set of double doors would lead from the main hall way off to the left or right. Next to these doors a large black colored board containing white writing, which Dylan could not read, heralded information that the building's inhabitants found of interest. Tesron even stopped at one point to study one of these. He muttered something to Gage who nodded in agreement.
At the far end of the plush and beautiful hall, a wide set of steps led upward. Next to that set of steps. a small alcove seemed out of place and curious. Dylan cringed at the thought of pulling the cart up the steps, but before he made any errant attempts, Gage led him to the alcove.
While Tesron mounted the step and disappeared at the top, Gage assisted Dylan in placing the cart in the alcove. The first thing Dylan noted was that the floor was not steady. Then Gage opened a panel, turned a crank within several times and then pulled a lever.
The floor began to rise, and Dylan discovered that the tiny room he was standing in was actually a box and that something was making the box rise. Within seconds, they rose to the second floor of the building. Tesron was there waiting. When the floor box stopped moving, Gage led Dylan out and without a word, Tesron turned and walked onward, expecting the others to follow.
Already Dylan had seen a wonder beyond his dreams. If he could learn how to build moving rooms, then his whole experience would be worth the undertaking. He could think of many practical uses for the moving room. On the plantation, carrying bales of hay, cotton and tobacco up into the storage lofts was a dangerous and strenuous job. It seemed that a year did not go by that someone did not fall from a ladder and break something while trying to carry a bale up to a storage loft.
Tesron stopped at a door. Dylan took in his surroundings. The hall they had just traveled down was not as rich as the one below, but it was well constructed and polished clean. How it was kept that way was apparent as a pair of boys garbed in simple white tunics with plain rope belts were scrubbing the floor just a little farther down the way. Tesron removed a key from his robe and unlocked the door. He entered and Gage followed motioning Dylan to do the same.
Tesron's apartment, for that was what Gage would later tell him, was simple and spacious. The main room, contained several chairs around a fireplace in the middle of the floor. A metal flue led up and into the ceiling. On the far side of the room was a balcony and set of doors with real glass which allowed Dylan to see out into a courtyard where many black and gray robed people were congregating in a maze-like garden. To one side of the room there was a wall with many shelves filled with scrolls and books. Next to those was a large desk with an oil lamp. The other wall of the apartment was mostly bare with the exception of a couple of portraits and a single closed door.
Gage and Tesron removed most of the baggage from Dylan's cart and placed it on the floor. Tesron then nodded to Gage and picked one of the bags up and went over to the desk. Gage motioned for Dylan to follow him and then returned to the outer hallway. Dylan followed pushing his cart much more easily now that it was lighter.
"Those quarters belong to Master Tesron," Gage told him. "Remember where they are, because when you have completed your Rite of Meditation, you may be expected to help keep his quarters clean."
Dylan nodded his understanding. He followed Gage back to the stairs and the moving box. Dylan pushed his cart into the box and waited patiently. Gage joined him. He opened the panel and showed the crank and lever arrangement.
"To go up, you must turn the crank two times and pull this lever," the journeyman explained. "To go down you simply push the lever and release it. The elevator will move only one floor at time."
"If you need to go up two floors, you must turn the crank two times, pull the lever, wait for the elevator to stop moving, then turn the crank two more times and pull the lever again." Dylan nodded his understanding.
"Now speak. I wish to go up one more floor. What must I do?"
"You must turn the crank two times and pull the handle," Dylan repeated.
"Very good," Gage commended. "You listen well. Now return to your silence." With that Gage operated the machinery and the elevator rose to the next floor. Then he exited and Dylan followed him. They passed several other mages most of which were masters as far as Dylan could tell.
A set of youths wearing the short tailed white tunics, however were caring for a set of potted plants near a double door portal. Two boys were doing most of the work wore the plain tunics as those scrubbing the floor below had worn while a girl, obviously older than the boys, wore a green tunic and directed their efforts.
The idea that girls would also be serving at the Academy had not occurred to Dylan. He wondered just how many girls there were. It also occurred to him that the older initiates would serve in some kind of supervisory role and that the colored tunic was some type of rank.
After passing through the portal, the hallway made a sharp turn to the left. The ceiling was much lower in this hall and there were many of the white tunic girls and boys washing windows, scrubbing floors and dusting furniture.
Gage stopped at a door and removed a key from his robe. Dylan surmised that this was Gage's apartment. The room beyond was much smaller than Tesron's had been, but it was still quite large. A single window looked out over the garden. The fireplace was against the wall and there was also a small writing desk and set of shelves next to the window. Against the far wall was a low bed and wash basin complete with mirror.
At the wash basin was a young woman wearing a yellow colored tunic and sandals. She worked at cleaning the mirror and glanced at them only briefly as Gage and Dylan entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Sara," Gage greeted the girl as he began to remove the last of the baggage from Dylan's cart.
"That it is, sir," the girl answered embarrassed.
"May I ask why you are cleaning my mirror?" Gage inquired.
The girl, about twelve years old bowed her head. "One of my team failed to clean it properly before your arrival," she admitted. "I’d hoped to recover the error before you returned."
"Who was responsible for that function?" Gage asked as he sat in the chair by the writing table.
"Cody was supposed to have done it, sir."
"Did he forget his duties?"
"No sir," she answered with a nervous glance at Dylan. "He failed to execute them correctly."
"Cody seems to be a thorn in our side," Gage observed. "This is not the first time that we have had problems with him and you are not the first team supervisor or task leader to have to clean up behind him. It may be that we must speak with his parents about terminating his education. Where is he now?"
"I sent him to the kitchens," Sarah informed the journeyman. "Task Leader Jerome is there and has been instructed to put Cody on garbage detail. I told Cody that if he insisted on being sloppy with his duties, that I’d give him a duty where he could be as sloppy as he wanted."
"An excellent solution," Gage praised. "Let us see if he learns from this experience. Jerome is a good task leader and will soon be joining you as another team supervisor."
Gage paused in thought and Sara again glanced at Dylan. Dylan decided that the girl was pretty but not stunningly so. She obviously was a person of some rank among initiates.
Gage noticed the two children watching each other and decided that introductions were in order. "Sarah," he began, "this is Dylan. He is our newest initiate and has already begun to practice his Rite of Meditation. Would you have someone take his cart and also could you find Kayla for me?"
"Right away, sir." the girl immediately headed for the door.
"Oh, and one more thing, Sarah," Gage added, "Be sure that Robert knows that we are back. Tell him that he should drop by to see either Master Tesron or myself as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir," Sarah said and as she turned to the door, she flashed Dylan a smile. "Welcome to the team," she whispered.
When the door closed, Gage addressed the boy they had brought back with them. "Master Tesron is over many initiates, Dylan," Gage began. "As you may have noticed, most of the initiates wear plain tunics. These are the initiates who do most of the work and are here to serve their time and then leave. As a result they do not do their best.
Those who show that they wish to do well and try hard are clothed in green. These initiates are called task leaders. They still must work, but their primary function is to see that a job is done correctly.
Fewer still are those initiates who excel in what they do and continuously exceed expectations. These initiates are given yellow and called team supervisors. Each team supervisor is responsible for a work teams which performs several tasks.
Sarah's work team is responsible for cleaning the rooms in this section of the hall. She has several task leaders whose jobs it is to scrub floors, wash windows, dust and polish furniture, do laundry and other things of that ilk.
The senior initiate, is Robert. He is the initiate who assigns the teams to their work. He wears red and is called a manager.
Each master has a manager and a force of initiates. I am going to give you fair warning. Learn who Master Tesron's initiates are. They will help you with your studies and help you stay out of trouble.
Other masters' initiates will try to trick you into speaking when you should not and they will lie to you and try to get you into trouble. This is part of your training. In the world of initiate infighting, you will learn how to separate fact from fiction.
Undoubtedly you will make enemies with your fellow initiates. That is to be expected and normal. But always remember, no matter how much you dislike one of our other initiates, you must never let it interfere with your work or studies."
Gage was about to say more, when there came a knock at the door. "In," Gage called out.
The door opened and a young woman of about eighteen years of age entered the room. She had long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was of medium height, and wore a gray robe.
"Did you send for me?" she asked.
"Kayla," Gage gestured to the boy, "this is Dylan. He is Master Tesron's newest initiate. Would you please help him begin his Rite of Meditation?"
"Of course," she said with a smile filled with sunshine. She extended a hand to him and Dylan reflexively took it. "Trusting isn't he?"
"For the moment," Gage agreed. He turned and knelt before the boy. "Dylan, this is Kayla. She is one of Master Tesron's apprentices. She and I will be in charge of your studies after you have finished your Rite of Meditation."
He placed a scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. "Right now she is going to take you to a place where you can be alone. She will instruct you on what you should do and how you should behave."
Gage stood and faced the apprentice. "He is a good boy and was raised on a plantation. You should find him obedient and thoughtful. I suspect that we will discover that he is a model student."
"That’ll be a pleasant surprise," Kayla replied. "Will you be available later? We need to speak about one of the more troublesome initiates. His scores and performance has fallen to marginal levels at best."
"Come by when you have Dylan taken care of and we will investigate our options," the journeyman ordered.
Kayla nodded and headed for the door. She led Dylan out into the hallway and back up to the stairs. They then proceeded to climb for what seemed like hours until they emerged in a lofty hallway lined with many dull gray uniform doors.
A green tunic initiate sat at a desk near the top of the stairs. The boy, about thirteen by Dylan's guess, stood as Kayla arrived. "How can I help you, apprentice?"
Kayla passed the note to the green garbed initiate. "I need to enroll my master's new initiate into the Rite of Meditation."
The initiate nodded and opened a book he took a quill, dipped it in ink and began to write. "What’s the newcomer's name?"
"Dylan," Kayla answered. "And he’s a ward of Master Tesron."
The initiate finished his entry then turned to a small box. He selected a key and passed it to Kayla. The apprentice took the key and led Dylan down the corridor a fair distance before stopping at one door. She inserted the key and opened the door.
Inside was a small room with a sleeping mat, and rolled up blankets. A simple white tunic, undergarment, belt, and sandals were neatly folded and lay upon the mat. In one corner lay a chamber pot and in another a small table with a pitcher of water stood. High upon the wall, far out of reach was a small hole through which sunlight entered to illuminate the room.
"This will be your room for the next few weeks," Kayla told him. "Go and change into that tunic."
Dylan went over and began to undress, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Kayla was still there. She saw his face and rolled her eyes and then politely turned her back to him. "Each morning, one of the other initiates will come to get you. They’ll take you to a room where you’ll spend the entire day. Your meals will be brought to you by another of your fellow initiates and once each day, usually late in the evening, Gage or myself or one of the other apprentices will come to visit you and answer any questions that you have."
She turned back around. Dylan was wearing the tunic and though the fit was a little loose as he was a boy of small stature, it would serve well.
"Very good," Kayla remarked as she approached. She made a few adjustments and gathered his old clothes, then stood back to survey him. "At this time, you may speak. There’s no time limit and I won’t leave until you’re comfortable with your situation."
"How long do I have to stay here?" Dylan asked.
"That’s up to you," Kayla answered. "What you do each day will determine how long you stay. I can't say what the criteria is for your advancement to the next stage of your education. I’ll only say that while you are in the Rite of Meditation, we’ll be training your mind to do something. When we feel that you’re ready, this part of your training will be over."
"Will I eat today?" It was perhaps a waste of a question, but the fact that they had not eaten all afternoon was making Dylan's stomach hurt.
Kayla laughed. "Of course you’ll eat. Someone will bring tonight's meal to you here. Your routine will begin tomorrow so be ready."
"Thank you," Dylan said. "I guess I don't have any other questions."
Kayla smiled and cupped his chin. "It’ll be a bit scary at first," she warned. "But don't let it frighten you. The time will pass quickly.
Dylan smiled as the young woman stood and stepped out of the room. Then she closed the door behind her and Dylan was left alone.
"Are you ready to go, son?" his father asked in a whisper.
Dylan stood straight and tall. He put a brave front up and nodded. "I'm ready," he added.
The two mages stood and Tesron nodded grimly. Gage, the journeyman opened the door and the master left the house with Dylan and his father in tow. Outside, Dylan's father hugged the boy close and tightly for a few long moments. When they finally parted, there was moisture in the man's eyes that matched that of his son.
"Study hard and make me proud," Learth urged.
"I promise I will," Dylan answered.
Tesron mumbled something and Gage guided Dylan away towards the wagon that the two mages were traveling in. Behind them Tesron had a few final words with Dylan's father.
"We want to get away from the farm before your mother or the rest of the community wake," Gage told him. "Long good-byes are not good for you or your parents. Do not worry, the first few years will go by very fast, and you may yet have the opportunity to visit home on occasion."
Dylan swallowed the lump in his throat and climbed aboard the wagon and sat in the seat. Gage sat in the seat next to him. "There are many lessons for you to learn," Gage informed him politely. "Try to learn them quickly and your life will be very easy."
Dylan looked up questioningly.
"The first lesson is that the master sits in the seat and the student sits in the back of the wagon," he said jerking his head rearward.
Dylan understood and vacated the seat. He crawled over several large boxes and sacks to find a nook between a basket and the water barrel. He put his meager belongings in the nook and then leaned against the basket.
A few moments later the master, Tesron climbed into the seat and directed Gage to start the horses. The wagon creaked mutely but soon fell into rhythm as the wheels fell into long worn ruts on the road.
"Boy come closer," the master called.
Dylan crawled over the luggage and sat between and behind the two mages. "Yes, master?"
Tesron turned and appraise the youth. His expression was friendly, but the eyes were hard. "There are many things that you will need to learn," he told his newest student. "For the moment, you need only know that for a long time you will see very few people and will not be allowed to speak. It is not meant as punishment, but the solitude and silence will help you to develop self discipline and concentration. These skills cannot be taught, and until you discover them within yourself, you will not be able to learn."
Tesron placed a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "Gage will help you through this trying time, and when you have completed this all important lesson, you will be tutored by one of my apprentices as I have promised your family." The elf glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Dylan. The boy found the fact that Gage was going to be his first instructor comforting.
Tesron turned back to face the road and took the reigns while Gage stood and stepped over the seat to join Dylan in the back of the wagon. He sat across from Dylan and looked long and hard at him.
"Starting today," Gage told him, "you are bound to silence. You will be given permission to speak on occasion so if you have questions or requests, you must remember them and make them known at the proper time. In addition, when you are allowed to speak, it will be for a short time, so you must also prioritize your talk to ask or request what is most important first. This is to train your mind to remember many things and to make judgments based on need. Also you will spend this short time in a cell by yourself. The solitude will help you to meditate and to come to terms with yourself."
Gage noted that Dylan was anxious to ask a question, but Gage had once been through the same tasking. "This rarely lasts more than about three weeks, but if you find it hard to maintain your bearing, it may last much longer." Dylan's urgent question seemed to loose its urgency as Gage had answered it for him. Gage smiled. "Try to remember that all of us have gone through the same thing. The questions are almost always the same at first, so do not be too surprised if, in the beginning, you find that all your questions are answered without you having to ask them.
Gage noted Dylan's pack. "You will also be stripped of your possessions for a while. You will be given a smock to wear until you have passed through the initiation phase.
Afterward, your things will be given back to you, and you will be placed in with the other initiates and assigned chores and a tutor."
"While you are bound to silence, there will be brief periods of time when others will try to goad you or trick you into speaking without permission. We encourage them to do this by rewarding them if they are successful. This is to test your resolve and self control. Do not let them get to you."
Gage finished his instruction. He leaned back against the large sack of what looked like grain. "You will not be given a chance to speak until later today," he said at last. "Though this does not count towards your tasking, it will give you a chance to get used to it before we get to Allentown."
Dylan watched as Gage returned to the seat and accepted the reigns from Tesron.
They rode all day at a leisurely pace. Gage and Tesron kept to themselves for the most part and ignored Dylan. The only time they even acknowledged his existence was when they stopped at an inn in a village for the night. Gage directed Dylan to carry Tesron's baggage up to the room they had rented and then join them in the common room for the evening meal.
Dylan did as he was told, finding the bags relatively heavy and getting them up the two flights of stairs left him breathing heavily. He left them in the room and then went to join his master at the table.
When he was seated, Tesron immediately addressed him. "Take a few moments to ask any question that you may have at this time, and also let us know what you would like to eat. Keep in mind that once the food arrives, you will again be bound to silence."
Dylan nodded. During the day he had thought of many questions, but at the moment he could recall only a few. "How long will it be until we get to Allentown?"
"Two days," Gage answered.
Dylan opened his mouth to ask another question, but none came to mind. He decided to ask for something to eat, but had no idea what was available. He could see the mages reading from a sheet of hard paper. Dylan could not read, and did not want to test their patience "Please order for me whatever you think’ll be best," he asked.
"Strange choice," Gage noted with a half smile. "He has decided that since he can not read the menu to throw the decision back at us."
"It’s his decision," Tesron noted without taking his eyes from the paper. "He’ll dine this night on steamed vegetables."
Gage smirked at the frown on Dylan's face. He hated vegetables.
"In life," Tesron lectured, "you’ll usually be expected to accept the consequences of your decisions."
"Now is as good a time as any to begin," Gage added.
Dylan ate in silence. He was bound and determined to succeed and damned the vegetables if necessary. His resolve did falter somewhat as he quietly and with great reluctance forked a sprout of asparagus and put it in his mouth. He noted that the journeyman, Gage, was thoroughly amused by the display of disgust that forced itself onto his face as the food hit his taste.
The rest of the night went mostly uneventful. With the exception of a horrid taste in his mouth, Dylan felt very good. He was still bound to silence, but Gage had given him more direction as they made their way back to the rooms while Tesron paid for their meal.
"During the Rite of Meditation, as this time you are in is called, you will not be required to perform chores or labor for anyone except yourself. Likewise, no one will go out of their way to do anything for you either. This is to teach you independence and prioritization. Master Tesron will support you financially since you are not working for wages, but you must learn your lessons else you will be returned to you family in disgrace. And none of us want that."
Gage left Dylan at the door to the room they had arranged for him. Gage and Tesron were sharing the room next door to his. Dylan thought it strange at first that he should have a private room whereas the journeyman and master shared quarters. The arrangement only went to show Dylan how important the Rite of Meditation was to his master.
Dylan slept well that night, and the next morning he woke and bathed on his own and was ready to depart without instruction. Though neither mage commented on this, Dylan did receive a look of approval from Tesron.
He was not allowed to speak until they stopped for lunch at which time he inquired only if there were any special circumstances by which he could break his silence if the situation warranted it. Tesron simply told him that it was his decision to make as to what warranted breaking his silence, but that as always, he would be made to accept the consequences of his decision.
Dylan found that with solid thinking, careful observation and patience, he was answering his own questions and had very few to ask when he was allowed. The day of their arrival in Allentown, he wanted very much to ask permission to see the city, but he need not have asked. He decided that he would be allowed to visit the city at some point, and that it would have to wait until then.
Allentown's tent section was a massive carnival of peddlers and charlatans who traded everything imaginable. Dylan watched with excited curiosity as the tents drifted by and merchants called out to the riders.
After about an hour of winding through the tents, the wagon passed through a set of rough gates that were rusted open. Allentown's defenses had fallen into dreadful disrepair. The gates would never hold back against any size of ram, and the walls could be scaled without a ladder. The structures were not so much for defense as they were for serving as the boundary between the tents and the proper citizenry.
The middle city was where the craftsman shops, taverns, and residences were. The streets were packed clay and when dry very serviceable. During heavy rains, however, the streets were a mess.
Dylan took in the surroundings enthusiastically, but reserved until they passed through a large archway which served as a portal in a thick and tall hedge line. Before them, Dylan saw the Academy. It was an expanse of many interconnected buildings. The walkways between buildings wove in and out of gardens and floral arrangements of great beauty containing exquisite sculptured works. To one side was a large structure which Gage informed him was one of five of the great libraries of the world.
"The other three known libraries are in Keron, Tycho and Haganaw. Legend states that a fifth library existed in the far south, but was lost long ago when one of the great southern cities was wiped out by a plague and fell into ruin."
Dylan immediately wanted to ask how someone could lose a library, but due to his enforced silence, he had no choice but to hold his question. Instead he listened attentively to the journeyman as he also pointed out another great complex adjacent to the library. It was the guild hall of magic. That was the guild to which all magic using professions belonged.
Gage droned on as the wagon approached the front steps of the Academy. Dylan's attention was captured by a scene not far from the doors. Another wagon of similar nature to theirs was parked. A black robed mage and a small boy about his own age were unloading the baggage. As they rode closer, the mage mounted the steps and entered the hall.
Two boys perhaps a year or two older exited immediately afterward. They were dressed in plain white tunics and wore sandals. As they passed the wagon, one turned to address the smaller boy who patiently awaited his master.
"What’s your name?" the older boy asked, but received no reply.
"He doesn't want to speak," his comrade noted. "I bet he’s in the Rite of Meditation."
"But his master isn't here. Neither are any other masters, journeymen or apprentices." He redressed the silent boy. "So you can talk. We won't tell."
"Yeah," the second promised. "So what’s your name?"
The silent boy started hesitantly, then glanced around briefly. He appeared as if he were about to speak, when he spied Tesron's wagon and its occupants approaching. Then he aborted any thought of speaking.
The two other boys noted this as well, and ceased their interview and resumed their chores. Gage and Tesron had not missed the episode. Dylan heard them talking softly so as not to be overheard by the small silent boy.
"He almost gave in," Gage observed.
"He would have if we hadn't been here," Tesron agreed. "I'm afraid that he won't last very long. He was too willing to try to get away with speaking during his Rite of Meditation. He doesn’t have proper respect for the rules."
"He will break them if he thinks he can get away with it," Gage agreed.
Dylan listened and digested what had transpired. He resolved to be on his guard against older students trying to trick him into talking. He also caught a brief glimpse of insight. He was on guard against the older students because he learned from another person's experience. Was it possible that one of the lessons the Rite of Meditation taught was the value of learning from another's mistakes and successes?
When Tesron's wagon stopped, Gage and Dylan unloaded the supplies while Tesron entered the hall. Fortunately, though three older students did pass by, and their expressions clearly indicated that they would like to harass the newcomer, Gage's scowl sent them scurrying by leaving Dylan unmolested.
Gage and Dylan delivered the baggage to the front door where a set of small pushing carts awaited. They loaded the bags onto the carts and Dylan was instructed to push the cart as they followed Tesron.
Tesron reappeared almost immediately with a hand full of papers. He led them into back into the building and absently read his mail as they walked down the polished corridors of the large complex.
Dylan pushed the cart as he was told. It was not difficult and his attention wandered as he took in his surroundings.
The entrance hall was very large with a marble floor and rich tapestries. An open door to one side of the hall showed a small room with a wall lined with tiny open boxes. A black robed mage was taking some papers similar to those that Tesron carried from one of those boxes.
The rest of the hall was decorated with paintings, statues and floral arrangements. At regular intervals a large set of double doors would lead from the main hall way off to the left or right. Next to these doors a large black colored board containing white writing, which Dylan could not read, heralded information that the building's inhabitants found of interest. Tesron even stopped at one point to study one of these. He muttered something to Gage who nodded in agreement.
At the far end of the plush and beautiful hall, a wide set of steps led upward. Next to that set of steps. a small alcove seemed out of place and curious. Dylan cringed at the thought of pulling the cart up the steps, but before he made any errant attempts, Gage led him to the alcove.
While Tesron mounted the step and disappeared at the top, Gage assisted Dylan in placing the cart in the alcove. The first thing Dylan noted was that the floor was not steady. Then Gage opened a panel, turned a crank within several times and then pulled a lever.
The floor began to rise, and Dylan discovered that the tiny room he was standing in was actually a box and that something was making the box rise. Within seconds, they rose to the second floor of the building. Tesron was there waiting. When the floor box stopped moving, Gage led Dylan out and without a word, Tesron turned and walked onward, expecting the others to follow.
Already Dylan had seen a wonder beyond his dreams. If he could learn how to build moving rooms, then his whole experience would be worth the undertaking. He could think of many practical uses for the moving room. On the plantation, carrying bales of hay, cotton and tobacco up into the storage lofts was a dangerous and strenuous job. It seemed that a year did not go by that someone did not fall from a ladder and break something while trying to carry a bale up to a storage loft.
Tesron stopped at a door. Dylan took in his surroundings. The hall they had just traveled down was not as rich as the one below, but it was well constructed and polished clean. How it was kept that way was apparent as a pair of boys garbed in simple white tunics with plain rope belts were scrubbing the floor just a little farther down the way. Tesron removed a key from his robe and unlocked the door. He entered and Gage followed motioning Dylan to do the same.
Tesron's apartment, for that was what Gage would later tell him, was simple and spacious. The main room, contained several chairs around a fireplace in the middle of the floor. A metal flue led up and into the ceiling. On the far side of the room was a balcony and set of doors with real glass which allowed Dylan to see out into a courtyard where many black and gray robed people were congregating in a maze-like garden. To one side of the room there was a wall with many shelves filled with scrolls and books. Next to those was a large desk with an oil lamp. The other wall of the apartment was mostly bare with the exception of a couple of portraits and a single closed door.
Gage and Tesron removed most of the baggage from Dylan's cart and placed it on the floor. Tesron then nodded to Gage and picked one of the bags up and went over to the desk. Gage motioned for Dylan to follow him and then returned to the outer hallway. Dylan followed pushing his cart much more easily now that it was lighter.
"Those quarters belong to Master Tesron," Gage told him. "Remember where they are, because when you have completed your Rite of Meditation, you may be expected to help keep his quarters clean."
Dylan nodded his understanding. He followed Gage back to the stairs and the moving box. Dylan pushed his cart into the box and waited patiently. Gage joined him. He opened the panel and showed the crank and lever arrangement.
"To go up, you must turn the crank two times and pull this lever," the journeyman explained. "To go down you simply push the lever and release it. The elevator will move only one floor at time."
"If you need to go up two floors, you must turn the crank two times, pull the lever, wait for the elevator to stop moving, then turn the crank two more times and pull the lever again." Dylan nodded his understanding.
"Now speak. I wish to go up one more floor. What must I do?"
"You must turn the crank two times and pull the handle," Dylan repeated.
"Very good," Gage commended. "You listen well. Now return to your silence." With that Gage operated the machinery and the elevator rose to the next floor. Then he exited and Dylan followed him. They passed several other mages most of which were masters as far as Dylan could tell.
A set of youths wearing the short tailed white tunics, however were caring for a set of potted plants near a double door portal. Two boys were doing most of the work wore the plain tunics as those scrubbing the floor below had worn while a girl, obviously older than the boys, wore a green tunic and directed their efforts.
The idea that girls would also be serving at the Academy had not occurred to Dylan. He wondered just how many girls there were. It also occurred to him that the older initiates would serve in some kind of supervisory role and that the colored tunic was some type of rank.
After passing through the portal, the hallway made a sharp turn to the left. The ceiling was much lower in this hall and there were many of the white tunic girls and boys washing windows, scrubbing floors and dusting furniture.
Gage stopped at a door and removed a key from his robe. Dylan surmised that this was Gage's apartment. The room beyond was much smaller than Tesron's had been, but it was still quite large. A single window looked out over the garden. The fireplace was against the wall and there was also a small writing desk and set of shelves next to the window. Against the far wall was a low bed and wash basin complete with mirror.
At the wash basin was a young woman wearing a yellow colored tunic and sandals. She worked at cleaning the mirror and glanced at them only briefly as Gage and Dylan entered the room.
"Good afternoon, Sara," Gage greeted the girl as he began to remove the last of the baggage from Dylan's cart.
"That it is, sir," the girl answered embarrassed.
"May I ask why you are cleaning my mirror?" Gage inquired.
The girl, about twelve years old bowed her head. "One of my team failed to clean it properly before your arrival," she admitted. "I’d hoped to recover the error before you returned."
"Who was responsible for that function?" Gage asked as he sat in the chair by the writing table.
"Cody was supposed to have done it, sir."
"Did he forget his duties?"
"No sir," she answered with a nervous glance at Dylan. "He failed to execute them correctly."
"Cody seems to be a thorn in our side," Gage observed. "This is not the first time that we have had problems with him and you are not the first team supervisor or task leader to have to clean up behind him. It may be that we must speak with his parents about terminating his education. Where is he now?"
"I sent him to the kitchens," Sarah informed the journeyman. "Task Leader Jerome is there and has been instructed to put Cody on garbage detail. I told Cody that if he insisted on being sloppy with his duties, that I’d give him a duty where he could be as sloppy as he wanted."
"An excellent solution," Gage praised. "Let us see if he learns from this experience. Jerome is a good task leader and will soon be joining you as another team supervisor."
Gage paused in thought and Sara again glanced at Dylan. Dylan decided that the girl was pretty but not stunningly so. She obviously was a person of some rank among initiates.
Gage noticed the two children watching each other and decided that introductions were in order. "Sarah," he began, "this is Dylan. He is our newest initiate and has already begun to practice his Rite of Meditation. Would you have someone take his cart and also could you find Kayla for me?"
"Right away, sir." the girl immediately headed for the door.
"Oh, and one more thing, Sarah," Gage added, "Be sure that Robert knows that we are back. Tell him that he should drop by to see either Master Tesron or myself as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir," Sarah said and as she turned to the door, she flashed Dylan a smile. "Welcome to the team," she whispered.
When the door closed, Gage addressed the boy they had brought back with them. "Master Tesron is over many initiates, Dylan," Gage began. "As you may have noticed, most of the initiates wear plain tunics. These are the initiates who do most of the work and are here to serve their time and then leave. As a result they do not do their best.
Those who show that they wish to do well and try hard are clothed in green. These initiates are called task leaders. They still must work, but their primary function is to see that a job is done correctly.
Fewer still are those initiates who excel in what they do and continuously exceed expectations. These initiates are given yellow and called team supervisors. Each team supervisor is responsible for a work teams which performs several tasks.
Sarah's work team is responsible for cleaning the rooms in this section of the hall. She has several task leaders whose jobs it is to scrub floors, wash windows, dust and polish furniture, do laundry and other things of that ilk.
The senior initiate, is Robert. He is the initiate who assigns the teams to their work. He wears red and is called a manager.
Each master has a manager and a force of initiates. I am going to give you fair warning. Learn who Master Tesron's initiates are. They will help you with your studies and help you stay out of trouble.
Other masters' initiates will try to trick you into speaking when you should not and they will lie to you and try to get you into trouble. This is part of your training. In the world of initiate infighting, you will learn how to separate fact from fiction.
Undoubtedly you will make enemies with your fellow initiates. That is to be expected and normal. But always remember, no matter how much you dislike one of our other initiates, you must never let it interfere with your work or studies."
Gage was about to say more, when there came a knock at the door. "In," Gage called out.
The door opened and a young woman of about eighteen years of age entered the room. She had long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was of medium height, and wore a gray robe.
"Did you send for me?" she asked.
"Kayla," Gage gestured to the boy, "this is Dylan. He is Master Tesron's newest initiate. Would you please help him begin his Rite of Meditation?"
"Of course," she said with a smile filled with sunshine. She extended a hand to him and Dylan reflexively took it. "Trusting isn't he?"
"For the moment," Gage agreed. He turned and knelt before the boy. "Dylan, this is Kayla. She is one of Master Tesron's apprentices. She and I will be in charge of your studies after you have finished your Rite of Meditation."
He placed a scribbled a note on a scrap of parchment. "Right now she is going to take you to a place where you can be alone. She will instruct you on what you should do and how you should behave."
Gage stood and faced the apprentice. "He is a good boy and was raised on a plantation. You should find him obedient and thoughtful. I suspect that we will discover that he is a model student."
"That’ll be a pleasant surprise," Kayla replied. "Will you be available later? We need to speak about one of the more troublesome initiates. His scores and performance has fallen to marginal levels at best."
"Come by when you have Dylan taken care of and we will investigate our options," the journeyman ordered.
Kayla nodded and headed for the door. She led Dylan out into the hallway and back up to the stairs. They then proceeded to climb for what seemed like hours until they emerged in a lofty hallway lined with many dull gray uniform doors.
A green tunic initiate sat at a desk near the top of the stairs. The boy, about thirteen by Dylan's guess, stood as Kayla arrived. "How can I help you, apprentice?"
Kayla passed the note to the green garbed initiate. "I need to enroll my master's new initiate into the Rite of Meditation."
The initiate nodded and opened a book he took a quill, dipped it in ink and began to write. "What’s the newcomer's name?"
"Dylan," Kayla answered. "And he’s a ward of Master Tesron."
The initiate finished his entry then turned to a small box. He selected a key and passed it to Kayla. The apprentice took the key and led Dylan down the corridor a fair distance before stopping at one door. She inserted the key and opened the door.
Inside was a small room with a sleeping mat, and rolled up blankets. A simple white tunic, undergarment, belt, and sandals were neatly folded and lay upon the mat. In one corner lay a chamber pot and in another a small table with a pitcher of water stood. High upon the wall, far out of reach was a small hole through which sunlight entered to illuminate the room.
"This will be your room for the next few weeks," Kayla told him. "Go and change into that tunic."
Dylan went over and began to undress, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Kayla was still there. She saw his face and rolled her eyes and then politely turned her back to him. "Each morning, one of the other initiates will come to get you. They’ll take you to a room where you’ll spend the entire day. Your meals will be brought to you by another of your fellow initiates and once each day, usually late in the evening, Gage or myself or one of the other apprentices will come to visit you and answer any questions that you have."
She turned back around. Dylan was wearing the tunic and though the fit was a little loose as he was a boy of small stature, it would serve well.
"Very good," Kayla remarked as she approached. She made a few adjustments and gathered his old clothes, then stood back to survey him. "At this time, you may speak. There’s no time limit and I won’t leave until you’re comfortable with your situation."
"How long do I have to stay here?" Dylan asked.
"That’s up to you," Kayla answered. "What you do each day will determine how long you stay. I can't say what the criteria is for your advancement to the next stage of your education. I’ll only say that while you are in the Rite of Meditation, we’ll be training your mind to do something. When we feel that you’re ready, this part of your training will be over."
"Will I eat today?" It was perhaps a waste of a question, but the fact that they had not eaten all afternoon was making Dylan's stomach hurt.
Kayla laughed. "Of course you’ll eat. Someone will bring tonight's meal to you here. Your routine will begin tomorrow so be ready."
"Thank you," Dylan said. "I guess I don't have any other questions."
Kayla smiled and cupped his chin. "It’ll be a bit scary at first," she warned. "But don't let it frighten you. The time will pass quickly.
Dylan smiled as the young woman stood and stepped out of the room. Then she closed the door behind her and Dylan was left alone.
Chapter 1 Part 1
INITIATE
Dylan saw the sword fall towards him. In disbelief, he watched as the point clove through his shield and pierced his breast. Blood spattered, and Dylan's breath grew short as he slumped to the ground dropping his own weapon and useless shield. His conqueror stood over him watching the death scene with detached amusement. Dylan reached out in futility as his vision dimmed.
"Dylan," a voice called from behind his enemy.
The victorious warrior turned and scowled at the caller.
"Dylan," the voice repeated. "It's time to come in. Mother says so."
Dylan's eyes snapped open. His younger sister, Mari, had the uncanny talent of showing up right when he was busy. This time she ruined a perfectly good death scene.
Matt, the other combatant who had just killed him was Dylan's best friend and rolled his eyes in frustration. He saw Mari skipping towards him on her mission to interrupt their play. She always took pleasure in informing them when their parents reined them in for the evening.
Matt glanced up at the sun sinking in the west. "It's no where near dark," he observed disappointed. "Why do you have to go in so soon?"
Dylan stood and brushed himself off. Mari came upon them, her bare feet kicking up a tiny cloud of dust. Her stringy hair was badly tangled and dirty as were her cheeks and most of the rest of her. She was only six and had very little interest in looking pretty. "Mother says that you have to go home now 'cause you have to get cleaned up 'cause them people are coming to take you away tonight." Her tone was expertly pitched to annoy the two older boys as efficiently as possible.
Matt kicked at the dust. "Already?" He tossed his sword in the dirt. "I thought you weren't leaving for several more days."
Dylan hung his head slightly. He didn't want to go either. He had been born on the farmstead. He was only ten years old, but had spent the entire ten years growing up among the other children and farm hands that worked Sandy Hollow, one of the huge plantations in the Teverak region south of the Karnal Mountains. Each farmstead was both plantation and village and all of its inhabitants worked together for the common cause to support the community. Most of his people had lived on the plantations all their lives and probably would die there.
Dylan's father was the head storesman. He was in charge of supplies and the buying of materials. He also was one of the more influential men of the community, and he intended for Dylan to follow in his footsteps. That was why Dylan was going to be sent away to be schooled.
Matt, on the other hand was the son of the plow master. His heritage was tilling the dark earth of the vast plains. Not much of an education was needed for that. Matt was twelve, and already spent much of the earlier hours of each day in the fields hitching the teams of oxen to the plows and sharpening spades and hoes. He was generally free after noon, but soon he would begin spending the entire day in the fields along with his father and three older brothers.
"Mother says," Mari began in a voice that grated on the nerves of both boys.
"We heard," Dylan cut her off. "I'm going now."
Mari, successful in ruining the rest of her brother's afternoon, skipped merrily off to find one of the other girls to play with.
Dylan left Matt fretting in the open area behind the barn where their private mock war had been taking place each day for as long as either of them could remember. He walked around the warehouse where all the community stores were kept. Adjoined to the rear of the building was the family's cottage that he and Mari shared with their parents.
When Dylan walked in the door, he could smell the freshly baked bread. His mother worked in the kitchen and was second only to the head cook there. She had set a table and it was obvious that they were going to dine at home instead of in the community hall as was normal. Private dining was saved for special occasions. Private dining with fresh baked bread was even more rare.
"How is it that boys seem to not feel they have had a successful day unless they can end it covered in dirt,” his mother, Gayla, muttered as she reached across the counter and cupped his chin turning him to face her.
She inspected the fruit of her womb critically. Then she passed him a wedge of lye soap and a cloth. "Your clothes are on the chair by your bed in the loft," she told him. "Take them and go out to the creek and wash thoroughly. Use the soap and come back clean. If you come back dirty or with dirty clothes on, I will whip you until you can't sit down for a week."
Dylan took the soap and cloth. He retrieved the bundle from the room he shared with Mari and then made his way down to the men's cove. It was a sand bar on the small river where the men bathed each evening. The women bathed around the bend during the early part of the day. The women’s cove was a mysterious place only talked about in whispers or by field hands during the long days.
He and Matt had once tried to sneak up the creek to take a peek at what the mystery was all about but he had been caught and punished soundly and in public. The beating had been painful, but not lasting. Discipline on the plantation in the form of whippings was not allowed to leave bruises or draw blood. There was enough work to do without having to care for the injured. What had hurt most, was the humiliation of being whipped in front of everyone and for them to know why he was being whipped.
Dylan removed his clothes and scrubbed his body diligently. The lye soap tingled, and left a funny smell, but between the soap and the sand, he managed to get all visible traces of dirt from his person. Then he lathered his hair and dunked himself to rinse.
Dylan walked out of the creek and dried himself off with the cloth his mother had given him. He sat on a log polished clean by many bare bottoms over many years and brushed the sand from his feet. Then he opened the bundle to get his clothes.
There were brand new clothes in the bundle. Not only had his parents obviously traded for fresh bread, but they had also traded for new clothes for him to wear. It was beginning to dawn on Dylan just how important this was to his parents. They were using up favors and trading hard to make him presentable to the guests who were coming that evening.
His new clothes were a pair of dark gray trousers with a white button shirt, and matching gray doublet. Buttons were a thing of luxury, and Dylan would have doubted that he would ever own anything with buttons. There was also a pair of black stockings and new sandals, the most common type of footwear for farmers on the plains.
Dylan dressed in his new clothes and admired the quality. It was the finest thing he had ever owned. He felt unworthy, and ashamed that he had so resisted the idea of leaving to be educated. To have gone through so much trouble, it must be terribly important to his parents.
Dylan gathered up the soap, towel, and his old clothes. He avoided all of the popular spots in the compound on the way back to the house. He certainly didn't want Matt to see him dressed up. He was not sure why, but he didn't want anyone to be see him.
When he entered the house, his mother took one look at him and burst into tears. She dropped her vegetables and ran to embrace him. Dylan didn't know what to do or think. Instinctively he just hugged his mother back and stood there.
After a few moments she disengaged herself from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. "We're so proud of you," she told him as she straightened his hair. "When you leave here tomorrow, I want you to know that you’re taking my heart with you." She placed a piece of cloth in his hand. "Now go up to your room and pack your things. And try not to get dirty."
Dylan entered the short corridor that connected the main room with his parents’ bedroom. There, a small ladder rose into the loft where the children slept. He climbed up and sat at the foot of the small cot that was his bed. He opened his fist and looked at the cloth his mother had given him. It was a piece of linen cut in the shape of a heart. It was a symbol of what she had said.
Dylan fought back the tears. He was ten years old and not supposed to cry, but the undeniable fact that he was about to leave everything he knew behind was crushing him like a mountain.
Dylan placed the cloth heart in the small wooden box that he kept his treasures. The cloth heart accompanied a small piece of colored rock, a piece of paper with a sketch of a bird, a pressed flower that a girl from another plantation had given him, and a copper coin from Keron, the king’s capital city.
He picked the flower up and looked at it fondly. The girl and her parents had come through the year before. She was the same age as Dylan and had accompanied her parents as they had come to trade for supplies. One of the other plantations' warehouses had burned down and they were short on stock.
Dylan's father had made his best inventory available at half price. Such was the way of the plantation people. Word of the fire had spread and every other plantation would do what it could to help.
The girl, Reni, and he had enjoyed the two days that they had shared before her parents moved on. She promised him that she would choose his plantation when it became time for her to seek a home. For it was common practice for girls of age to travel to other plantations to seek husbands. Such a practice prevented inbreeding and strengthened the ties of cooperation between them. She had given him the flower as a token of her intention to seek him out for herself.
His father and mother had thought it cute, but had assured him that it would be at least seven years before she would leave her family and that her mind was apt to change many times before then. In fact his father thought it most likely that she had given a flower to a boy in every plantation that they had visited. Dylan preferred to think otherwise.
There was a sound downstairs and Dylan heard several voices one of which was that of his father, Learth. The other voices were subdued and hushed, but Dylan could tell that there were two of them.
"Dylan," his father called. "Please come down. There are some people here to meet you."
Dylan stood and took one last moment to straighten his clothes before he mounted the ladder to climb down to the hall. From there he entered the main room.
His father and mother sat on one side of the table. Both of their eyes were full of pride and his mother’s watered freely. Across from them sat two men, both of whom were wearing black robes. One, an elf, smiled comfortingly at him. The other, a gray haired human watched him with dark penetrating eyes.
Both of the newcomers stood. The older man wore a black robe with blue lining and a gold sash at his waist marking him as master while the elf's sash was the silver sash of a journeyman and the lining of his robe was red.
"This is my son, Dylan," his father introduced him. "Dylan this is Master Tesron of Allentown, and his companion Gage, a journeyman wizard from the Tycarian region."
Dylan did as his father had instructed the night before. He stiffly bowed to the older man and then nodded politely to the elf.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air and Dylan felt as if he were expected to say something but could not think of anything. Fortunately the elf broke the silence. "He is a cautious one, is he not?"
Dylan's father laughed. "There’ve been times when I’d give all I owned for such silence in him."
Dylan's mother stood and began to serve the food while the men talked. Dylan was surprised that the conversation never included him nor was it about him. The old man asked only about weather and storms on the plains. The elf remained silent for the most part throughout the meal and listened only.
After about an hour of discussing winds and storms, the elf leaned over and whispered into the other mage's ear. The old man nodded and the elf stood and addressed Dylan. "I feel the need to walk," he said in a pleasant voice. "Would you care to accompany me, Dylan?"
Dylan was caught off guard, but soon recovered. Wordlessly he stood and followed the golden haired elf to the door.
As they left the house, Dylan took advantage of the moment to study his companion. The elf was not much taller than some of the bigger boys, and far shorter than most of the men, but he had always heard that the elves were small people, so that did not seem very unusual except for the fact that this was the first real elf he had ever seen.
Night had fallen so there were very few people outside. The evening meal was being served in the commons hall and that was where most of the noise and people were. As a result the plantation was quite deserted.
"It is a beautiful night ," the elf noted. "The stars in the southern skies are very lovely. Did you know that where I grew up, we can not see those stars?"
"No," Dylan answered nervously.
The elf smiled and stood next to Dylan. "There is no reason to fear," he assured the boy. "No one is going to hurt you. There are thousands of boys who have been through what you are about to go through and none have ever been killed or harmed."
"I'm not scared," Dylan lied.
"Sure you are," the elf accused. "I was. Master Tesron was, we all were." He looked at Dylan closely and seriously. "You are not officially a student, but perhaps I can teach you a quick lesson here and now."
"There is no shame in being afraid," the elf told him. "Fear is always good. It keeps you from making mistakes and underestimating your tasks. The trick is not to banish fear, but to control it. Even the bravest knight knows fear. Courage is not the absence of fear, but is the ability to do what is needed in spite of the fear."
Dylan listened almost hypnotically at the impromptu lecture. "I am afraid," he admitted after the elf was done.
"Admitting that you are afraid is a beginning," the journeyman wizard assured him.
"What are my parents doing with your master?" Dylan asked.
"They are discussing what kind of student you will become," the elf explained. "There are two kinds of students at the Academy. Some come to get an education and study magic. Others come just to get an education. There is nothing wrong with this, but knowing up front what you will do is important. We do not want to waste time and effort trying to teach you magic if you have no intention of studying it."
"Do you think I could learn magic?"
"That remains to be seen," the young wizard replied. "You seem intelligent. I do not foresee you having any trouble learning to read, write or cipher. As for magic, that I can not tell. But from what I was told, you are only going to learn to do your father's job. That is an honorable and important task."
Dylan glanced up at the side of the warehouse. The future was so well ordered and well planned. He would go to the Academy and learn his lessons well. Then he would come back and help his father until he himself was the head storesman. And should the girl who had given him the flower last year move to his plantation, Dylan would marry her and have a nice family.
They walked around for about an hour before the elf led them back to the house. When they entered, Dylan could tell that decisions had been made concerning him. The time had come.
"Dylan," his father began, "Master Tesron has agreed to accept you as a pupil at the Academy of Magic. You are going to study reading and writing under him as well as how to cipher. Undoubtedly he will teach you many other useful things, but those are the skills that you will need to replace me when I am old. I expect you to do well and bring honor to this household."
"I promise to do my best," Dylan told them all, but in particular his father.
Master Tesron stood from his chair and walked around to stand behind Dylan. The boy remained still. When the mage placed one hand upon Dylan's shoulder and the other upon his head, Dylan felt strangely warm.
"I, Tesron, Master of Sorcery, hearby accept the boy, Dylan of the Sandy Hollow Plantation as my pupil. I vow to the best of my ability to educate him in the subjects of the spoken and written languages. I vow to enlighten him to the power of mathematics. I vow to enrich him with the knowledge of science. With knowledge will I armor him against ignorance until he passes the Trial of Acceptance."
When the speech was done, Dylan felt a mild tingle in his head and his breath had become rapid. Then he turned involuntarily as the mage pulled at his shoulder. He looked up in the man's face.
"Dylan," Tesron spoke to him for the first time. "Your feet have been placed upon the path of enlightenment. If you work well, there is nothing in this world that will be denied to you. You are on the path. Whether or not you stay on it is your own responsibility. Do you understand?"
Dylan nodded, and the mage frowned slightly showing disappointment. The elf leaned close and whispered into Dylan's ear. "Yes, master," Dylan responded to the prompting.
This seemed to satisfy the mage and he released the boy. "Tomorrow we depart for Allentown," he announced. "It is time for us to rest for the journey." With that the mage left the cottage to make his way to the guest quarters in the commons building.
The journeyman, Gage remained behind. "Dylan," he advised, "take what is left of this night to bid farewell to your friends and family. Do not fear Master Tesron. No one expects you to know etiquette you have not been taught. You will learn those things as time passes." The elf smiled and then followed his master leaving Dylan alone with his father.
"You'll do fine, son," his father said encouragingly. "The normal service for an initiate declining magic is only about five or six years. They will pass quickly and you’ll soon be back here."
Dylan stared after the two mages. He heard his father but made no reply. After a long few moments his father stood and went over to the doorway. His back was to his son, and he spoke over his shoulder. "Your mother is in her room crying," he said with a sniffle. "Why don't you go and spend some time with her. I need to go get Mari. She spent the evening with Malvin the miller's family."
Dylan watched his father disappear and then he went to his parent's room. He found his mother sitting at a table staring into the flame of a candle. "Mother?"
"Come in baby," she held out her hand. Dylan accepted it and she drew him close. He found his eyes drawn to the tiny flame as well. "I was just remembering how unusual it was when you spoke your first word," she said. "Your father and I spent most of the days before you talked betting each other as to whether you would first say 'momma' or 'pappa'." She laughed and sobbed at the same time. "You fooled everyone one night when sitting before a table full of candles you said 'lights'."
Dylan hugged his mother and for many long moments neither of them said a word. Then when his father returned, she reluctantly pushed him away. "Go get a good night of sleep, dear," she insisted. "Tomorrow you learn to be a scholar."
Dylan turned to go but paused as he stood at the foot of the ladder. He could already hear his sister up in the loft. Glancing back at his parent's room, his father was closing the door and he could hear his mother weeping. The sound brought a lump to his throat. When the door closed, though, he climbed the ladder and got in bed. It took a long time for him to get to sleep, but eventually sleep did come.
Dylan saw the sword fall towards him. In disbelief, he watched as the point clove through his shield and pierced his breast. Blood spattered, and Dylan's breath grew short as he slumped to the ground dropping his own weapon and useless shield. His conqueror stood over him watching the death scene with detached amusement. Dylan reached out in futility as his vision dimmed.
"Dylan," a voice called from behind his enemy.
The victorious warrior turned and scowled at the caller.
"Dylan," the voice repeated. "It's time to come in. Mother says so."
Dylan's eyes snapped open. His younger sister, Mari, had the uncanny talent of showing up right when he was busy. This time she ruined a perfectly good death scene.
Matt, the other combatant who had just killed him was Dylan's best friend and rolled his eyes in frustration. He saw Mari skipping towards him on her mission to interrupt their play. She always took pleasure in informing them when their parents reined them in for the evening.
Matt glanced up at the sun sinking in the west. "It's no where near dark," he observed disappointed. "Why do you have to go in so soon?"
Dylan stood and brushed himself off. Mari came upon them, her bare feet kicking up a tiny cloud of dust. Her stringy hair was badly tangled and dirty as were her cheeks and most of the rest of her. She was only six and had very little interest in looking pretty. "Mother says that you have to go home now 'cause you have to get cleaned up 'cause them people are coming to take you away tonight." Her tone was expertly pitched to annoy the two older boys as efficiently as possible.
Matt kicked at the dust. "Already?" He tossed his sword in the dirt. "I thought you weren't leaving for several more days."
Dylan hung his head slightly. He didn't want to go either. He had been born on the farmstead. He was only ten years old, but had spent the entire ten years growing up among the other children and farm hands that worked Sandy Hollow, one of the huge plantations in the Teverak region south of the Karnal Mountains. Each farmstead was both plantation and village and all of its inhabitants worked together for the common cause to support the community. Most of his people had lived on the plantations all their lives and probably would die there.
Dylan's father was the head storesman. He was in charge of supplies and the buying of materials. He also was one of the more influential men of the community, and he intended for Dylan to follow in his footsteps. That was why Dylan was going to be sent away to be schooled.
Matt, on the other hand was the son of the plow master. His heritage was tilling the dark earth of the vast plains. Not much of an education was needed for that. Matt was twelve, and already spent much of the earlier hours of each day in the fields hitching the teams of oxen to the plows and sharpening spades and hoes. He was generally free after noon, but soon he would begin spending the entire day in the fields along with his father and three older brothers.
"Mother says," Mari began in a voice that grated on the nerves of both boys.
"We heard," Dylan cut her off. "I'm going now."
Mari, successful in ruining the rest of her brother's afternoon, skipped merrily off to find one of the other girls to play with.
Dylan left Matt fretting in the open area behind the barn where their private mock war had been taking place each day for as long as either of them could remember. He walked around the warehouse where all the community stores were kept. Adjoined to the rear of the building was the family's cottage that he and Mari shared with their parents.
When Dylan walked in the door, he could smell the freshly baked bread. His mother worked in the kitchen and was second only to the head cook there. She had set a table and it was obvious that they were going to dine at home instead of in the community hall as was normal. Private dining was saved for special occasions. Private dining with fresh baked bread was even more rare.
"How is it that boys seem to not feel they have had a successful day unless they can end it covered in dirt,” his mother, Gayla, muttered as she reached across the counter and cupped his chin turning him to face her.
She inspected the fruit of her womb critically. Then she passed him a wedge of lye soap and a cloth. "Your clothes are on the chair by your bed in the loft," she told him. "Take them and go out to the creek and wash thoroughly. Use the soap and come back clean. If you come back dirty or with dirty clothes on, I will whip you until you can't sit down for a week."
Dylan took the soap and cloth. He retrieved the bundle from the room he shared with Mari and then made his way down to the men's cove. It was a sand bar on the small river where the men bathed each evening. The women bathed around the bend during the early part of the day. The women’s cove was a mysterious place only talked about in whispers or by field hands during the long days.
He and Matt had once tried to sneak up the creek to take a peek at what the mystery was all about but he had been caught and punished soundly and in public. The beating had been painful, but not lasting. Discipline on the plantation in the form of whippings was not allowed to leave bruises or draw blood. There was enough work to do without having to care for the injured. What had hurt most, was the humiliation of being whipped in front of everyone and for them to know why he was being whipped.
Dylan removed his clothes and scrubbed his body diligently. The lye soap tingled, and left a funny smell, but between the soap and the sand, he managed to get all visible traces of dirt from his person. Then he lathered his hair and dunked himself to rinse.
Dylan walked out of the creek and dried himself off with the cloth his mother had given him. He sat on a log polished clean by many bare bottoms over many years and brushed the sand from his feet. Then he opened the bundle to get his clothes.
There were brand new clothes in the bundle. Not only had his parents obviously traded for fresh bread, but they had also traded for new clothes for him to wear. It was beginning to dawn on Dylan just how important this was to his parents. They were using up favors and trading hard to make him presentable to the guests who were coming that evening.
His new clothes were a pair of dark gray trousers with a white button shirt, and matching gray doublet. Buttons were a thing of luxury, and Dylan would have doubted that he would ever own anything with buttons. There was also a pair of black stockings and new sandals, the most common type of footwear for farmers on the plains.
Dylan dressed in his new clothes and admired the quality. It was the finest thing he had ever owned. He felt unworthy, and ashamed that he had so resisted the idea of leaving to be educated. To have gone through so much trouble, it must be terribly important to his parents.
Dylan gathered up the soap, towel, and his old clothes. He avoided all of the popular spots in the compound on the way back to the house. He certainly didn't want Matt to see him dressed up. He was not sure why, but he didn't want anyone to be see him.
When he entered the house, his mother took one look at him and burst into tears. She dropped her vegetables and ran to embrace him. Dylan didn't know what to do or think. Instinctively he just hugged his mother back and stood there.
After a few moments she disengaged herself from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. "We're so proud of you," she told him as she straightened his hair. "When you leave here tomorrow, I want you to know that you’re taking my heart with you." She placed a piece of cloth in his hand. "Now go up to your room and pack your things. And try not to get dirty."
Dylan entered the short corridor that connected the main room with his parents’ bedroom. There, a small ladder rose into the loft where the children slept. He climbed up and sat at the foot of the small cot that was his bed. He opened his fist and looked at the cloth his mother had given him. It was a piece of linen cut in the shape of a heart. It was a symbol of what she had said.
Dylan fought back the tears. He was ten years old and not supposed to cry, but the undeniable fact that he was about to leave everything he knew behind was crushing him like a mountain.
Dylan placed the cloth heart in the small wooden box that he kept his treasures. The cloth heart accompanied a small piece of colored rock, a piece of paper with a sketch of a bird, a pressed flower that a girl from another plantation had given him, and a copper coin from Keron, the king’s capital city.
He picked the flower up and looked at it fondly. The girl and her parents had come through the year before. She was the same age as Dylan and had accompanied her parents as they had come to trade for supplies. One of the other plantations' warehouses had burned down and they were short on stock.
Dylan's father had made his best inventory available at half price. Such was the way of the plantation people. Word of the fire had spread and every other plantation would do what it could to help.
The girl, Reni, and he had enjoyed the two days that they had shared before her parents moved on. She promised him that she would choose his plantation when it became time for her to seek a home. For it was common practice for girls of age to travel to other plantations to seek husbands. Such a practice prevented inbreeding and strengthened the ties of cooperation between them. She had given him the flower as a token of her intention to seek him out for herself.
His father and mother had thought it cute, but had assured him that it would be at least seven years before she would leave her family and that her mind was apt to change many times before then. In fact his father thought it most likely that she had given a flower to a boy in every plantation that they had visited. Dylan preferred to think otherwise.
There was a sound downstairs and Dylan heard several voices one of which was that of his father, Learth. The other voices were subdued and hushed, but Dylan could tell that there were two of them.
"Dylan," his father called. "Please come down. There are some people here to meet you."
Dylan stood and took one last moment to straighten his clothes before he mounted the ladder to climb down to the hall. From there he entered the main room.
His father and mother sat on one side of the table. Both of their eyes were full of pride and his mother’s watered freely. Across from them sat two men, both of whom were wearing black robes. One, an elf, smiled comfortingly at him. The other, a gray haired human watched him with dark penetrating eyes.
Both of the newcomers stood. The older man wore a black robe with blue lining and a gold sash at his waist marking him as master while the elf's sash was the silver sash of a journeyman and the lining of his robe was red.
"This is my son, Dylan," his father introduced him. "Dylan this is Master Tesron of Allentown, and his companion Gage, a journeyman wizard from the Tycarian region."
Dylan did as his father had instructed the night before. He stiffly bowed to the older man and then nodded politely to the elf.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the air and Dylan felt as if he were expected to say something but could not think of anything. Fortunately the elf broke the silence. "He is a cautious one, is he not?"
Dylan's father laughed. "There’ve been times when I’d give all I owned for such silence in him."
Dylan's mother stood and began to serve the food while the men talked. Dylan was surprised that the conversation never included him nor was it about him. The old man asked only about weather and storms on the plains. The elf remained silent for the most part throughout the meal and listened only.
After about an hour of discussing winds and storms, the elf leaned over and whispered into the other mage's ear. The old man nodded and the elf stood and addressed Dylan. "I feel the need to walk," he said in a pleasant voice. "Would you care to accompany me, Dylan?"
Dylan was caught off guard, but soon recovered. Wordlessly he stood and followed the golden haired elf to the door.
As they left the house, Dylan took advantage of the moment to study his companion. The elf was not much taller than some of the bigger boys, and far shorter than most of the men, but he had always heard that the elves were small people, so that did not seem very unusual except for the fact that this was the first real elf he had ever seen.
Night had fallen so there were very few people outside. The evening meal was being served in the commons hall and that was where most of the noise and people were. As a result the plantation was quite deserted.
"It is a beautiful night ," the elf noted. "The stars in the southern skies are very lovely. Did you know that where I grew up, we can not see those stars?"
"No," Dylan answered nervously.
The elf smiled and stood next to Dylan. "There is no reason to fear," he assured the boy. "No one is going to hurt you. There are thousands of boys who have been through what you are about to go through and none have ever been killed or harmed."
"I'm not scared," Dylan lied.
"Sure you are," the elf accused. "I was. Master Tesron was, we all were." He looked at Dylan closely and seriously. "You are not officially a student, but perhaps I can teach you a quick lesson here and now."
"There is no shame in being afraid," the elf told him. "Fear is always good. It keeps you from making mistakes and underestimating your tasks. The trick is not to banish fear, but to control it. Even the bravest knight knows fear. Courage is not the absence of fear, but is the ability to do what is needed in spite of the fear."
Dylan listened almost hypnotically at the impromptu lecture. "I am afraid," he admitted after the elf was done.
"Admitting that you are afraid is a beginning," the journeyman wizard assured him.
"What are my parents doing with your master?" Dylan asked.
"They are discussing what kind of student you will become," the elf explained. "There are two kinds of students at the Academy. Some come to get an education and study magic. Others come just to get an education. There is nothing wrong with this, but knowing up front what you will do is important. We do not want to waste time and effort trying to teach you magic if you have no intention of studying it."
"Do you think I could learn magic?"
"That remains to be seen," the young wizard replied. "You seem intelligent. I do not foresee you having any trouble learning to read, write or cipher. As for magic, that I can not tell. But from what I was told, you are only going to learn to do your father's job. That is an honorable and important task."
Dylan glanced up at the side of the warehouse. The future was so well ordered and well planned. He would go to the Academy and learn his lessons well. Then he would come back and help his father until he himself was the head storesman. And should the girl who had given him the flower last year move to his plantation, Dylan would marry her and have a nice family.
They walked around for about an hour before the elf led them back to the house. When they entered, Dylan could tell that decisions had been made concerning him. The time had come.
"Dylan," his father began, "Master Tesron has agreed to accept you as a pupil at the Academy of Magic. You are going to study reading and writing under him as well as how to cipher. Undoubtedly he will teach you many other useful things, but those are the skills that you will need to replace me when I am old. I expect you to do well and bring honor to this household."
"I promise to do my best," Dylan told them all, but in particular his father.
Master Tesron stood from his chair and walked around to stand behind Dylan. The boy remained still. When the mage placed one hand upon Dylan's shoulder and the other upon his head, Dylan felt strangely warm.
"I, Tesron, Master of Sorcery, hearby accept the boy, Dylan of the Sandy Hollow Plantation as my pupil. I vow to the best of my ability to educate him in the subjects of the spoken and written languages. I vow to enlighten him to the power of mathematics. I vow to enrich him with the knowledge of science. With knowledge will I armor him against ignorance until he passes the Trial of Acceptance."
When the speech was done, Dylan felt a mild tingle in his head and his breath had become rapid. Then he turned involuntarily as the mage pulled at his shoulder. He looked up in the man's face.
"Dylan," Tesron spoke to him for the first time. "Your feet have been placed upon the path of enlightenment. If you work well, there is nothing in this world that will be denied to you. You are on the path. Whether or not you stay on it is your own responsibility. Do you understand?"
Dylan nodded, and the mage frowned slightly showing disappointment. The elf leaned close and whispered into Dylan's ear. "Yes, master," Dylan responded to the prompting.
This seemed to satisfy the mage and he released the boy. "Tomorrow we depart for Allentown," he announced. "It is time for us to rest for the journey." With that the mage left the cottage to make his way to the guest quarters in the commons building.
The journeyman, Gage remained behind. "Dylan," he advised, "take what is left of this night to bid farewell to your friends and family. Do not fear Master Tesron. No one expects you to know etiquette you have not been taught. You will learn those things as time passes." The elf smiled and then followed his master leaving Dylan alone with his father.
"You'll do fine, son," his father said encouragingly. "The normal service for an initiate declining magic is only about five or six years. They will pass quickly and you’ll soon be back here."
Dylan stared after the two mages. He heard his father but made no reply. After a long few moments his father stood and went over to the doorway. His back was to his son, and he spoke over his shoulder. "Your mother is in her room crying," he said with a sniffle. "Why don't you go and spend some time with her. I need to go get Mari. She spent the evening with Malvin the miller's family."
Dylan watched his father disappear and then he went to his parent's room. He found his mother sitting at a table staring into the flame of a candle. "Mother?"
"Come in baby," she held out her hand. Dylan accepted it and she drew him close. He found his eyes drawn to the tiny flame as well. "I was just remembering how unusual it was when you spoke your first word," she said. "Your father and I spent most of the days before you talked betting each other as to whether you would first say 'momma' or 'pappa'." She laughed and sobbed at the same time. "You fooled everyone one night when sitting before a table full of candles you said 'lights'."
Dylan hugged his mother and for many long moments neither of them said a word. Then when his father returned, she reluctantly pushed him away. "Go get a good night of sleep, dear," she insisted. "Tomorrow you learn to be a scholar."
Dylan turned to go but paused as he stood at the foot of the ladder. He could already hear his sister up in the loft. Glancing back at his parent's room, his father was closing the door and he could hear his mother weeping. The sound brought a lump to his throat. When the door closed, though, he climbed the ladder and got in bed. It took a long time for him to get to sleep, but eventually sleep did come.
Forward to An Apprentice's Tale
This story actually began in the middle 1990s. I had never even heard of "Harry Potter" when I conceived of the Academy of Magic in Allentown.
The story revolves around Dylan, a young man who grew up on a plantation. His father arranges for the boy to be educated at the Academy where the boy excels in his studies and eventually finds himself the apprentice of Gage, the son of Avery.
Ultrecht, Armegon and Avery play minor roles in this story. Primarily they give advice and act as a plot device. Near the end of the book, I loosen the reigns on them and let them have a little fun, but for the most part this is a story about the next generation and how they are stepping up to the plate.
Enjoy.
The story revolves around Dylan, a young man who grew up on a plantation. His father arranges for the boy to be educated at the Academy where the boy excels in his studies and eventually finds himself the apprentice of Gage, the son of Avery.
Ultrecht, Armegon and Avery play minor roles in this story. Primarily they give advice and act as a plot device. Near the end of the book, I loosen the reigns on them and let them have a little fun, but for the most part this is a story about the next generation and how they are stepping up to the plate.
Enjoy.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Epilogue
Epilogue: Of chimes and stars.
Three weeks passed before they finally found themselves on a quiet hill under a beautiful starry night. Ultrecht set up a small folding rack and laid each chime in its place.
“The passage I have in memory should allow us to appreciate the wonders of the heavens.” He paused, looking up at the stars. “We should be able to view them from a simpler perspective, a childlike and untainted outlook.”
“Well, I’m set. Play it already,” Aremgon said in a voice tinged with excitement.
Ultrecht took out the ivory case containing his strike, and in a clear baritone voice sang as he played.
“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star How I Wonder What you are. ”
Armegon and Avery both stood staring dumbly, their jaws hanging. Grinning ear-to-ear, Ultrecht took a small bow, lifted the rack of chimes, and teleported.
There was a long pause of silence broken only when Avery softly whispered in a sense of profound awe, "Oh, that was good."
"A masterpiece," Armegon agreed. "Scarlet would have been proud."
"I never saw it coming...Hook, line and sinker," Avery chuckled.
"Me, too. You know, I think our boy is beginning to develop a sense of humor.”
"I wonder just how long he's been planning that," Avery posed.
"Surely not the whole thing," Armegon offered. "It was too complex and relied on too many variables."
"I suppose you're right," Avery agreed. “You aren’t planning to kill him are you?”
“Nah, I’ll just let him think I am.”
Avery looked up to the stars, wondering at their majestic beauty. “It was a pretty good one though.”
Armegon was watching the heavens too. “Yeah, lot of set up. Those are usually the best ones.”
"I’d have to say this one puts him in the lead.”
“Yep. It’ll sure be hard to top.”
They both sat in the grass leaning back on their elbows. The quiet night air was comfortable and the view was absolutely breathtaking. After a long while Avery stood. “Well I should be getting home.”
“Yeah me too,” said Armegon as he climbed to his feet.
They both paused and watched as a shooting star flitted by overhead. Eventually Avery said, “You know, sometimes we get too wrapped up in daily life. We should take more time off to enjoy moments like this. I just may have to thank him.”
Armegon only smiled. “Say ‘hi’ to Nikki for me.”
“Certainly. Have a pleasant trip home.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
Three weeks passed before they finally found themselves on a quiet hill under a beautiful starry night. Ultrecht set up a small folding rack and laid each chime in its place.
“The passage I have in memory should allow us to appreciate the wonders of the heavens.” He paused, looking up at the stars. “We should be able to view them from a simpler perspective, a childlike and untainted outlook.”
“Well, I’m set. Play it already,” Aremgon said in a voice tinged with excitement.
Ultrecht took out the ivory case containing his strike, and in a clear baritone voice sang as he played.
“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star How I Wonder What you are. ”
Armegon and Avery both stood staring dumbly, their jaws hanging. Grinning ear-to-ear, Ultrecht took a small bow, lifted the rack of chimes, and teleported.
There was a long pause of silence broken only when Avery softly whispered in a sense of profound awe, "Oh, that was good."
"A masterpiece," Armegon agreed. "Scarlet would have been proud."
"I never saw it coming...Hook, line and sinker," Avery chuckled.
"Me, too. You know, I think our boy is beginning to develop a sense of humor.”
"I wonder just how long he's been planning that," Avery posed.
"Surely not the whole thing," Armegon offered. "It was too complex and relied on too many variables."
"I suppose you're right," Avery agreed. “You aren’t planning to kill him are you?”
“Nah, I’ll just let him think I am.”
Avery looked up to the stars, wondering at their majestic beauty. “It was a pretty good one though.”
Armegon was watching the heavens too. “Yeah, lot of set up. Those are usually the best ones.”
"I’d have to say this one puts him in the lead.”
“Yep. It’ll sure be hard to top.”
They both sat in the grass leaning back on their elbows. The quiet night air was comfortable and the view was absolutely breathtaking. After a long while Avery stood. “Well I should be getting home.”
“Yeah me too,” said Armegon as he climbed to his feet.
They both paused and watched as a shooting star flitted by overhead. Eventually Avery said, “You know, sometimes we get too wrapped up in daily life. We should take more time off to enjoy moments like this. I just may have to thank him.”
Armegon only smiled. “Say ‘hi’ to Nikki for me.”
“Certainly. Have a pleasant trip home.”
“Thanks. Good night.”
Chapter 4 Part 4
They stayed at the inn and rested up. It took Avery nearly five days to regain enough strength to heal, but soon after that they were all back in full health. During this time Ultrecht made a quick trip to the dragon’s cave and sealed it magically.
Armegon set his now empty ale mug on the table and sighed contentedly at his empty plate. He looked at the group around the table and grinned. “You know, mistress Sara, I’d say ol’ Zachary here managed to gain a few pounds during his stay here.”
Sara smiled and snuggled up closer to Regald, who put his arm around her gently.
Ultrecht leaned forward and fixed Aremgon with a sharp look. “Yer jest jealous ‘cause they ain’t no one gonna think you was worth while ‘nough ta feed. ”
The sorcerer’s jaw dropped and everyone around the table laughed. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I simply took all of the worst of your habits and created a personae,” the Elementalist said with a smile.
This brought a sharp laugh from Avery. “You still missed a few.”
Armegon simply leaned back further and smiled. “You know forest boy, after a fine meal like the one I just ate, not even you can be annoying.”
They traded jibes for a little longer until everyone had finished eating, then the talk turned to the town. They spent several hours discussing options and plans for rebuilding. Finally Regald said, “we still don’t have any sort of sanctioned rulership.”
“How about the neighboring lands?” Armegon asked.
“There haven’t been any nobility over Sidmuur but our own in over two-hundred years. Baron Roth was the last, and he died without an heir. ”
“Well, then you rule it.”
Regald drew himself up as if insulted. “I’m the Captain of the Guard. I have no authority to name myself or any other man as a ruler.”
Avery stood and drew liberator. With exaggerated nonchalance he placed the sword on the table. “I do.” He said quietly.
At noon the next day the citizens of Sidmuur once again answered the call to the city square. On the stage Avery stood with Captain Regald, while Ultrecht and Armegon stood a couple of paces back. When enough people had arrived, Ultrecht cast a spell to make anyone on the stage heard by the whole crowd.
Avery stepped forth, Liberator in hand. “People of Sidmuur. I am Avery, also known as The Forester, wielder of the Dawn of Law. You are no longer to be subject to the whims and excesses of a corrupt system. By the power I hold in my hand I this day set a man to lead you.” He turned to his left. “Captain Regald, step forth and kneel.”
Almost reluctantly, Regald knelt before Avery.
The ranger held the sword vertically before him in salute. “Regald, this is Liberator, the Dawn of Law. By its power you can be named the liege of these lands. Know however that to accept these duties falsely will be your death. Do you pledge to take up the mantle of leadership, to give your life and that of your progeny in service to your people?”
“I do.”
Avery lowered the blade. “Then by the power of Law itself, I declare you Baron of Sidmuur or dead as a false leader.” He touched the blade to Regald's head. The captain started as if shocked, but was otherwise still alive.
“Rise Lord Regald and greet your people.”
When the new baron stood a cheer resounded throughout. Avery let it go on for a minute then raised his hand for quiet. “Thomas and Billy of the Bundled Sheaf Inn come forward.”
Slowly and unsurely both boys made their way onto the stage. Sara stood quietly next to Drew, red-faced and staring at the ground.
Avery stood the two nervous boys together to Regald’s right and took up position behind them. “Furthermore this day, must the truth be revealed. Know all that these two boys are joined to your liege by blood. To be named heirs as deemed fit by their father.”
The crowd cheered wildly. Both boys and the baron stood staring dumbly, then as one looked to Sara. She stood tall in spite of her tears and red face, and nodded affirmation. Regald’s face exploded with joy and he grabbed up both boys in a huge hug. He stood so for a moment then addressed the crowd. “Indeed. It seems my first act as your liege is to make a proposal.” He dropped to one knee and looked at Sara. “Mistress Sara, you have secretly been my hearts love for many years. Today I no longer need fear for my life or yours to affirm my feelings for you. We have been lovers in secret, but today I would ask to be your husband, your lover known to all.”
Sara burst into tears of joy and agreed.
Several minutes of wild cheering took place, Sara came up on the stage to stand with Regald, but he insisted all of her children come up too. Finally he raised a hand for silence.
“Gladdened as I am to have begun with a joyful business, I must now bring before you justice.” He gestured to some of his men. “Bring forth the prisoners.”
Seven men, one of them a bound and gagged Kiron, were brought to the stage. “These are all that remain alive and in custody of the crimes against our land. All of you know the horrors brought down on us by Baron Roth and Captain Krell.” The new baron paused then went on, “both are now dead. However these remain to answer to their crimes. I now ask The Forester to bring us the truth.”
Avery nodded his agreement and stood before the first six prisoners. “You are all accused of crimes against your own people. You will speak the truth of your own volition or you may be forced. But the truth will be known and stand. Understand that confession may lessen your punishment.”
One man stepped out of line and knelt. “I am not guilty, I will be tested.”
Avery touched him with Liberator. “You have a crime. What is it?”
The prisoner struggled and fought against the power that held him, but finally screamed out, “I am guilty of rape, murder, and theft.”
Avery stepped back. “Believe it or not, he chose to be tested. It will be harder for those who do not.”
The third man in the line dropped to his knees. “Test me then.”
Again the sword made contact. Avery turned to the baron. “This man truly is innocent. He was part of the Dragon’s Breath, but has not committed any crimes.”
Regald looked at him. “What is your name?”
Garren My Lord.”
Then stand Garren. You are free to go. The Dragon’s Breath are disbanded, but if you still wish a post, the city guard could use the help.”
Uh, yes milord. That would be great.”
Regald smiled. “Then report to the barracks after we finish here.”
Garren bowed and stepped off of the stage.
The remaining four men broke and submitted to Liberator. Their crimes were listed and they were removed from the stage. Finally Avery stepped back as Ultrecht moved up.
Baron Regald proclaimed, “It has long been the tradition among mages that they discipline their own. I feel this to be only right. Who better to mete out punishment to a mage than another mage?”
Kiron stood white faced in front of a very hostile crowd. He flinched when Armegon moved up behind him and removed the gag.
Ultrecht raised one hand and the angry mutterings silenced. He glanced at Drew, the brewer stood stiff with fear and rage. He shook his head and addressed the people. “A few of you know me, but all of you know the mage Kiron. I wish to relate a witness account of the one crime I saw committed by this man, but I also want you all to know I do not lie.” He turned to Avery. “Use the sword.”
Avery hesitated, but stepped forward and laid the blade gently on Ultrecht’s shoulder. The mage stiffened, but his voice held strong as he related the story of how Kiron had raped Drew’s wife, passed her to his men and then fed her to the dragon. He did not spare his own feelings. He knew he might have done something to help, but did not for fear of tipping off the dragon. By the end of his tale, Drew was standing hunched over with great wracking sobs, his grief openly shared by nearly everyone present. He raised his head slowly and asked, “My Lord Baron, may I come up on the stage?”
Regald nodded, and Drew came up slowly. He faced the crowd. “Many of you have lost loved ones over the years that the mage has been among us. I suspect that all who have been taken by him have met with a similar fate as my wife.” He turned to Regald. “I ask of you my lord that this man be forced to tell of his crimes.”
The baron looked to Avery. The ranger did not need to be asked, he simply laid the sword across Kiron’s neck. Pain and shock showed on his face and he struggled against the swords power, but to no avail. At last he screamed out, “It’s true, those that did not die by the dragon, died by torture. But all were bent to my pleasure.” The truth released, the mage slumped only held up by Armegon’s firm grip.
Drew nodded and turned to the crowd. “My wife, my sister. How many of you lost loved ones to this man?” He turned back to Ultrecht. “Our lord said that you would mete out his punishment. I would ask that you allow us a voice in the decision.”
Ultrecht stood and thought. When he looked up he said to the assembled people, “all you who know you have lost women to this man, come forward.”
Several men in the front ranks began falling back yelling “Clear a space!” Finally it was forty-six people that came up. Mothers, fathers, husbands, siblings, and grandparents, they all stood looking up at him. Ultrecht looked at Drew and said, “you may converse. You have ten minutes to talk among yourselves. At that time I will consider your words.”
Drew immediately jumped down and started a heated discussion with the others. Avery approached and whispered, “Liberator finds their feelings just. I must support their decision.”
Ultrecht raised an eyebrow in surprise and whispered back, “What if I can’t?”
“If it’s within your power, you must. I'm sorry. I think I know what is coming.”
Drew came back up on the stage after only eight minutes. All of the faces below were set with a terrible purpose. He bowed before the Duke and then again before Ultrecht. “Master Ultrecht. First to you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know what it was that the mage did to that thief at our last meeting here?”
“Yes. It was an illusion of a terrible kind of magic. One that the reality of would be beyond his skills.”
“Would such a thing be beyond your skills?”
Ultrecht’s stomach knotted. “No. ”
“Then that is the punishment we request for him.”
Wide-eyed Ultrecht spun on Avery. Tears stood out in the rangers eyes, but he only nodded resolutely.
Shaken he turned back to Drew his voice hard as stone, “So be it, but all of you must stay and watch.”
Behind him Kiron, shouted, “No! You can’t!” and struggled against Armegon’s grasp. Finally the sorcerer cast a binding on him and left him standing. Unable to move Kiron began screaming and wailing in terror.
Ultrecht stood heavy hearted and looked to Avery again. His friend was openly crying, but the steel presence of Liberator held him unflinchingly in the grip of final justice. He said aloud, “This is a spell of vengeance. I will need some tar and a lock of hair from each person who seeks this punishment. ”
A murmur went through the crowd, and soon enough a bucket of tar was passed to the front. Drew had drawn a knife and cut a lock of his hair. In minutes a fair sized pile of hair lay on the stage, donated by many more than just the families involved. It seemed that a lot of people felt the mage deserved a horrid fate. Ultrecht looked at Avery and whispered, “Does that damned piece of steel understand what is about to happen?”
Avery nodded and whispered back, “Vengeance is a two edged blade. Liberator understands fully how this will cut. Only the creator can mete justice unscathed.”
Ultrecht looked back at him with ice in his eyes. “So what did I do, to have to be the point of this blade?”
“You started this path with only self interest. Your single purpose touched on the lives of many to both weal and woe. Now you stand at the heart of a moment, one in which lives will find a new direction. This goes beyond justice into the realms of the creator’s plan.”
Ultrecht looked down at the stage for several long seconds. Resolutely he collected the hair and tar. He took a few seconds to stir the hair into the sticky black goo, then stood and pulled in as much power as he could muster. He shaped the power in his mind and spoke aloud to Kiron, “All here that seek your death, as well as your eternal torment now join with me in meting out your punishment.”
Throughout the crowd, all those who donated locks of hair became stiffly attentive, unable to leave, or even tear their eyes away. Armegon moved to the far side of the stage and turned his back.
The doomed mage gibbered in terror and begged for a sword. “I’ll cut my own throat! Look, please! I’ll pull my own guts out!” His screams became mindless in his fear. A few less hardy folks in the crowd began to shift nervously.
Ultrecht began the preamble of a spell he’d cast only once before. The last time had been only against a nonliving subject in the pursuit of a formula that would extend life indefinitely. His research had been a dismal failure, leaving him with nightmares that persisted for months. He pitied the people that were about to join him in this experience.
The master Elementalist held his hands apart and a terrible blackness began to form in the air between them. Kiron screamed until his throat bled. Inky tendrils formed and groped towards the condemned mage teasingly, as if some awful intelligence were toying with him, reveling in his agony.
Suddenly two of the tendrils lashed forward. One struck his forehead, one his chest. Kiron’s screams redoubled, until it seemed his lungs must collapse. All those that had contributed to the spell felt his mind try to slip into insanity, only to be fixed to this dismal reality by the black tendril in his head. After an indeterminately long time, a supremely awful presence from some unimaginably terrible place thrust forth its ancient and long grasp and ripped the very essence of Kiron down into a darkness beyond naming.
Ultrecht clapped his hands together, ending the most terrible spell he’d ever cast. Throughout the crowd people fainted and vomited in reaction. A withered husk was all that remained of Kiron.
That night Ultrecht drank until he could no longer even think. Avery stayed close and waited. Eventually he and Armegon put their friend to bed. Before they left the ranger touched Ultrecht’s forehead.
Armegon look at him oddly, “What was that?”
“It will let him sleep without dreaming.”
“Oh. Good idea I suppose. He’s gonna be miserable enough tomorrow anyway. ”
Avery stumbled against the wall and grabbed it to steady himself. “No, I took care of that too.”
Armegon took the ranger by the arm and helped him back downstairs. “You really shouldn’t let that sword have so much control.”
“It’s not actually like that. You see it knows only justice, but justice without compassion is in its own way not any better than evil. Today, the town learned a valuable lesson.” They arrived at a table and sat. “They learned the difference between justice and vengeance. They have all suffered. They do not need to add to that by causing more. ”
Armegon thought about it. “And the dragon?”
“The dragon was a different case. It was a great and malignant power, but terribly limited by its own nature. Liberator merely gave it the realization of all the pain it had caused.”
“Now that must have hurt.”
“No doubt. I’d be willing to bet it never eats another sentient being. ”
They sat quietly for a bit. Then Avery asked, “why do you think he went to so much trouble and pain to recreate a set of chimes?”
“Well he just recreated one. The others he’s just going to recover.”
“Ok. But my point is: what would make him so single mindedly driven?”
“I’m not sure. But you know he’s always been very task oriented.” Armegon chuckled and went on, “how he can accept some of the things he does just to complete a project, I’ll never understand.”
“Perhaps that’s his strength.”
Armegon took a long drink from his wine. “Well it sure isn’t mine. I know I sure as blazes wouldn’t apprentice myself to a bloody dwarf just to learn metallurgy. ”
“I’m not sure that would work for me either, but he probably learned well.”
“And what did he call the one we made?”
“The chime of Twin-Kleare.”
“And he doesn’t know the names of the others?”
“Not that he’s mentioned.”
“Then what’s the deal?” The sorcerer finished his wine. “I’m sure it has a meaning to him. And that means it probably has a meaning to us.”
Avery nodded in agreement. “I supposed we'll have to wait and see.”
Ultrecht slept through the entire next day and night. When he finally awoke he found himself very hungry.
“Nice to see you again. ”
He looked to his left to see Avery sitting in a chair across the room.
“Well, if you’re wondering if I’m mad, I’m not.” He stood and began dressing. “I’ve never really agreed with Armegon’s view of how justice should be served, but I never questioned his good intentions.” He stopped and looked directly at the ranger. “If you didn’t believe I knew the difference between justice and vengeance, then believe it now. You and I are more alike than you probably realize. Both of us are driven well past the point that others find insane.”
He continued dressing, but said quietly, “We do have a difference in acceptance though. People who don’t meet up with your standards of right and wrong are met with an unbending unchanging force. I find that new situations often require new answers.”
Avery was stung, but he couldn’t fault Ultrecht’s feelings. People usually considered the mage to be cold and unemotional, but Avery knew better. The man merely thought about his actions before he did them. “Then you really aren’t mad?”
“Avery, I have a very good memory, but I can’t recall a time that I’ve been angry and didn’t regret it somewhere.”
The ranger smiled, relieved. “Well then, how about some breakfast?”
“What’re you still waiting here for?”
After breakfast they spoke with Baron Regald about the dragon’s treasures.
“The largest part of it belongs to Sidmuur,” said Ultrecht as he sipped his tea.
Regald nodded. “True, but I nonetheless want you three to take what you want of it first. After all without you, we would still have none of it.”
Avery spoke up. “Then why don’t we just go and look? We can then make our decisions based on what we know to be there.”
They took a couple of wagons and several trusted guardsmen and went to the cave. It took several hours to get a sense of things, but among the riches they found a box containing the chimes. The three friends each claimed a bag of coins at the insistence of the baron, and Ultrecht collected the chimes. Avery raised a couple of eyebrows when he claimed a small pouch containing five dice carved from semi-precious gemstones. He winked. “For a gnomish friend of mine.”
They stayed for the wedding. The whole township seemed to be in attendance. Sara was probably the most glorious bride in all of history, especially since Armegon and Ultrecht were competing to ensure it.
Drew, along with Emma gave the bride away and Ultrecht stood for Regald. Once the celebrations were over, they quietly departed after the inevitable good-byes.
Armegon set his now empty ale mug on the table and sighed contentedly at his empty plate. He looked at the group around the table and grinned. “You know, mistress Sara, I’d say ol’ Zachary here managed to gain a few pounds during his stay here.”
Sara smiled and snuggled up closer to Regald, who put his arm around her gently.
Ultrecht leaned forward and fixed Aremgon with a sharp look. “Yer jest jealous ‘cause they ain’t no one gonna think you was worth while ‘nough ta feed. ”
The sorcerer’s jaw dropped and everyone around the table laughed. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“I simply took all of the worst of your habits and created a personae,” the Elementalist said with a smile.
This brought a sharp laugh from Avery. “You still missed a few.”
Armegon simply leaned back further and smiled. “You know forest boy, after a fine meal like the one I just ate, not even you can be annoying.”
They traded jibes for a little longer until everyone had finished eating, then the talk turned to the town. They spent several hours discussing options and plans for rebuilding. Finally Regald said, “we still don’t have any sort of sanctioned rulership.”
“How about the neighboring lands?” Armegon asked.
“There haven’t been any nobility over Sidmuur but our own in over two-hundred years. Baron Roth was the last, and he died without an heir. ”
“Well, then you rule it.”
Regald drew himself up as if insulted. “I’m the Captain of the Guard. I have no authority to name myself or any other man as a ruler.”
Avery stood and drew liberator. With exaggerated nonchalance he placed the sword on the table. “I do.” He said quietly.
At noon the next day the citizens of Sidmuur once again answered the call to the city square. On the stage Avery stood with Captain Regald, while Ultrecht and Armegon stood a couple of paces back. When enough people had arrived, Ultrecht cast a spell to make anyone on the stage heard by the whole crowd.
Avery stepped forth, Liberator in hand. “People of Sidmuur. I am Avery, also known as The Forester, wielder of the Dawn of Law. You are no longer to be subject to the whims and excesses of a corrupt system. By the power I hold in my hand I this day set a man to lead you.” He turned to his left. “Captain Regald, step forth and kneel.”
Almost reluctantly, Regald knelt before Avery.
The ranger held the sword vertically before him in salute. “Regald, this is Liberator, the Dawn of Law. By its power you can be named the liege of these lands. Know however that to accept these duties falsely will be your death. Do you pledge to take up the mantle of leadership, to give your life and that of your progeny in service to your people?”
“I do.”
Avery lowered the blade. “Then by the power of Law itself, I declare you Baron of Sidmuur or dead as a false leader.” He touched the blade to Regald's head. The captain started as if shocked, but was otherwise still alive.
“Rise Lord Regald and greet your people.”
When the new baron stood a cheer resounded throughout. Avery let it go on for a minute then raised his hand for quiet. “Thomas and Billy of the Bundled Sheaf Inn come forward.”
Slowly and unsurely both boys made their way onto the stage. Sara stood quietly next to Drew, red-faced and staring at the ground.
Avery stood the two nervous boys together to Regald’s right and took up position behind them. “Furthermore this day, must the truth be revealed. Know all that these two boys are joined to your liege by blood. To be named heirs as deemed fit by their father.”
The crowd cheered wildly. Both boys and the baron stood staring dumbly, then as one looked to Sara. She stood tall in spite of her tears and red face, and nodded affirmation. Regald’s face exploded with joy and he grabbed up both boys in a huge hug. He stood so for a moment then addressed the crowd. “Indeed. It seems my first act as your liege is to make a proposal.” He dropped to one knee and looked at Sara. “Mistress Sara, you have secretly been my hearts love for many years. Today I no longer need fear for my life or yours to affirm my feelings for you. We have been lovers in secret, but today I would ask to be your husband, your lover known to all.”
Sara burst into tears of joy and agreed.
Several minutes of wild cheering took place, Sara came up on the stage to stand with Regald, but he insisted all of her children come up too. Finally he raised a hand for silence.
“Gladdened as I am to have begun with a joyful business, I must now bring before you justice.” He gestured to some of his men. “Bring forth the prisoners.”
Seven men, one of them a bound and gagged Kiron, were brought to the stage. “These are all that remain alive and in custody of the crimes against our land. All of you know the horrors brought down on us by Baron Roth and Captain Krell.” The new baron paused then went on, “both are now dead. However these remain to answer to their crimes. I now ask The Forester to bring us the truth.”
Avery nodded his agreement and stood before the first six prisoners. “You are all accused of crimes against your own people. You will speak the truth of your own volition or you may be forced. But the truth will be known and stand. Understand that confession may lessen your punishment.”
One man stepped out of line and knelt. “I am not guilty, I will be tested.”
Avery touched him with Liberator. “You have a crime. What is it?”
The prisoner struggled and fought against the power that held him, but finally screamed out, “I am guilty of rape, murder, and theft.”
Avery stepped back. “Believe it or not, he chose to be tested. It will be harder for those who do not.”
The third man in the line dropped to his knees. “Test me then.”
Again the sword made contact. Avery turned to the baron. “This man truly is innocent. He was part of the Dragon’s Breath, but has not committed any crimes.”
Regald looked at him. “What is your name?”
Garren My Lord.”
Then stand Garren. You are free to go. The Dragon’s Breath are disbanded, but if you still wish a post, the city guard could use the help.”
Uh, yes milord. That would be great.”
Regald smiled. “Then report to the barracks after we finish here.”
Garren bowed and stepped off of the stage.
The remaining four men broke and submitted to Liberator. Their crimes were listed and they were removed from the stage. Finally Avery stepped back as Ultrecht moved up.
Baron Regald proclaimed, “It has long been the tradition among mages that they discipline their own. I feel this to be only right. Who better to mete out punishment to a mage than another mage?”
Kiron stood white faced in front of a very hostile crowd. He flinched when Armegon moved up behind him and removed the gag.
Ultrecht raised one hand and the angry mutterings silenced. He glanced at Drew, the brewer stood stiff with fear and rage. He shook his head and addressed the people. “A few of you know me, but all of you know the mage Kiron. I wish to relate a witness account of the one crime I saw committed by this man, but I also want you all to know I do not lie.” He turned to Avery. “Use the sword.”
Avery hesitated, but stepped forward and laid the blade gently on Ultrecht’s shoulder. The mage stiffened, but his voice held strong as he related the story of how Kiron had raped Drew’s wife, passed her to his men and then fed her to the dragon. He did not spare his own feelings. He knew he might have done something to help, but did not for fear of tipping off the dragon. By the end of his tale, Drew was standing hunched over with great wracking sobs, his grief openly shared by nearly everyone present. He raised his head slowly and asked, “My Lord Baron, may I come up on the stage?”
Regald nodded, and Drew came up slowly. He faced the crowd. “Many of you have lost loved ones over the years that the mage has been among us. I suspect that all who have been taken by him have met with a similar fate as my wife.” He turned to Regald. “I ask of you my lord that this man be forced to tell of his crimes.”
The baron looked to Avery. The ranger did not need to be asked, he simply laid the sword across Kiron’s neck. Pain and shock showed on his face and he struggled against the swords power, but to no avail. At last he screamed out, “It’s true, those that did not die by the dragon, died by torture. But all were bent to my pleasure.” The truth released, the mage slumped only held up by Armegon’s firm grip.
Drew nodded and turned to the crowd. “My wife, my sister. How many of you lost loved ones to this man?” He turned back to Ultrecht. “Our lord said that you would mete out his punishment. I would ask that you allow us a voice in the decision.”
Ultrecht stood and thought. When he looked up he said to the assembled people, “all you who know you have lost women to this man, come forward.”
Several men in the front ranks began falling back yelling “Clear a space!” Finally it was forty-six people that came up. Mothers, fathers, husbands, siblings, and grandparents, they all stood looking up at him. Ultrecht looked at Drew and said, “you may converse. You have ten minutes to talk among yourselves. At that time I will consider your words.”
Drew immediately jumped down and started a heated discussion with the others. Avery approached and whispered, “Liberator finds their feelings just. I must support their decision.”
Ultrecht raised an eyebrow in surprise and whispered back, “What if I can’t?”
“If it’s within your power, you must. I'm sorry. I think I know what is coming.”
Drew came back up on the stage after only eight minutes. All of the faces below were set with a terrible purpose. He bowed before the Duke and then again before Ultrecht. “Master Ultrecht. First to you a question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know what it was that the mage did to that thief at our last meeting here?”
“Yes. It was an illusion of a terrible kind of magic. One that the reality of would be beyond his skills.”
“Would such a thing be beyond your skills?”
Ultrecht’s stomach knotted. “No. ”
“Then that is the punishment we request for him.”
Wide-eyed Ultrecht spun on Avery. Tears stood out in the rangers eyes, but he only nodded resolutely.
Shaken he turned back to Drew his voice hard as stone, “So be it, but all of you must stay and watch.”
Behind him Kiron, shouted, “No! You can’t!” and struggled against Armegon’s grasp. Finally the sorcerer cast a binding on him and left him standing. Unable to move Kiron began screaming and wailing in terror.
Ultrecht stood heavy hearted and looked to Avery again. His friend was openly crying, but the steel presence of Liberator held him unflinchingly in the grip of final justice. He said aloud, “This is a spell of vengeance. I will need some tar and a lock of hair from each person who seeks this punishment. ”
A murmur went through the crowd, and soon enough a bucket of tar was passed to the front. Drew had drawn a knife and cut a lock of his hair. In minutes a fair sized pile of hair lay on the stage, donated by many more than just the families involved. It seemed that a lot of people felt the mage deserved a horrid fate. Ultrecht looked at Avery and whispered, “Does that damned piece of steel understand what is about to happen?”
Avery nodded and whispered back, “Vengeance is a two edged blade. Liberator understands fully how this will cut. Only the creator can mete justice unscathed.”
Ultrecht looked back at him with ice in his eyes. “So what did I do, to have to be the point of this blade?”
“You started this path with only self interest. Your single purpose touched on the lives of many to both weal and woe. Now you stand at the heart of a moment, one in which lives will find a new direction. This goes beyond justice into the realms of the creator’s plan.”
Ultrecht looked down at the stage for several long seconds. Resolutely he collected the hair and tar. He took a few seconds to stir the hair into the sticky black goo, then stood and pulled in as much power as he could muster. He shaped the power in his mind and spoke aloud to Kiron, “All here that seek your death, as well as your eternal torment now join with me in meting out your punishment.”
Throughout the crowd, all those who donated locks of hair became stiffly attentive, unable to leave, or even tear their eyes away. Armegon moved to the far side of the stage and turned his back.
The doomed mage gibbered in terror and begged for a sword. “I’ll cut my own throat! Look, please! I’ll pull my own guts out!” His screams became mindless in his fear. A few less hardy folks in the crowd began to shift nervously.
Ultrecht began the preamble of a spell he’d cast only once before. The last time had been only against a nonliving subject in the pursuit of a formula that would extend life indefinitely. His research had been a dismal failure, leaving him with nightmares that persisted for months. He pitied the people that were about to join him in this experience.
The master Elementalist held his hands apart and a terrible blackness began to form in the air between them. Kiron screamed until his throat bled. Inky tendrils formed and groped towards the condemned mage teasingly, as if some awful intelligence were toying with him, reveling in his agony.
Suddenly two of the tendrils lashed forward. One struck his forehead, one his chest. Kiron’s screams redoubled, until it seemed his lungs must collapse. All those that had contributed to the spell felt his mind try to slip into insanity, only to be fixed to this dismal reality by the black tendril in his head. After an indeterminately long time, a supremely awful presence from some unimaginably terrible place thrust forth its ancient and long grasp and ripped the very essence of Kiron down into a darkness beyond naming.
Ultrecht clapped his hands together, ending the most terrible spell he’d ever cast. Throughout the crowd people fainted and vomited in reaction. A withered husk was all that remained of Kiron.
That night Ultrecht drank until he could no longer even think. Avery stayed close and waited. Eventually he and Armegon put their friend to bed. Before they left the ranger touched Ultrecht’s forehead.
Armegon look at him oddly, “What was that?”
“It will let him sleep without dreaming.”
“Oh. Good idea I suppose. He’s gonna be miserable enough tomorrow anyway. ”
Avery stumbled against the wall and grabbed it to steady himself. “No, I took care of that too.”
Armegon took the ranger by the arm and helped him back downstairs. “You really shouldn’t let that sword have so much control.”
“It’s not actually like that. You see it knows only justice, but justice without compassion is in its own way not any better than evil. Today, the town learned a valuable lesson.” They arrived at a table and sat. “They learned the difference between justice and vengeance. They have all suffered. They do not need to add to that by causing more. ”
Armegon thought about it. “And the dragon?”
“The dragon was a different case. It was a great and malignant power, but terribly limited by its own nature. Liberator merely gave it the realization of all the pain it had caused.”
“Now that must have hurt.”
“No doubt. I’d be willing to bet it never eats another sentient being. ”
They sat quietly for a bit. Then Avery asked, “why do you think he went to so much trouble and pain to recreate a set of chimes?”
“Well he just recreated one. The others he’s just going to recover.”
“Ok. But my point is: what would make him so single mindedly driven?”
“I’m not sure. But you know he’s always been very task oriented.” Armegon chuckled and went on, “how he can accept some of the things he does just to complete a project, I’ll never understand.”
“Perhaps that’s his strength.”
Armegon took a long drink from his wine. “Well it sure isn’t mine. I know I sure as blazes wouldn’t apprentice myself to a bloody dwarf just to learn metallurgy. ”
“I’m not sure that would work for me either, but he probably learned well.”
“And what did he call the one we made?”
“The chime of Twin-Kleare.”
“And he doesn’t know the names of the others?”
“Not that he’s mentioned.”
“Then what’s the deal?” The sorcerer finished his wine. “I’m sure it has a meaning to him. And that means it probably has a meaning to us.”
Avery nodded in agreement. “I supposed we'll have to wait and see.”
Ultrecht slept through the entire next day and night. When he finally awoke he found himself very hungry.
“Nice to see you again. ”
He looked to his left to see Avery sitting in a chair across the room.
“Well, if you’re wondering if I’m mad, I’m not.” He stood and began dressing. “I’ve never really agreed with Armegon’s view of how justice should be served, but I never questioned his good intentions.” He stopped and looked directly at the ranger. “If you didn’t believe I knew the difference between justice and vengeance, then believe it now. You and I are more alike than you probably realize. Both of us are driven well past the point that others find insane.”
He continued dressing, but said quietly, “We do have a difference in acceptance though. People who don’t meet up with your standards of right and wrong are met with an unbending unchanging force. I find that new situations often require new answers.”
Avery was stung, but he couldn’t fault Ultrecht’s feelings. People usually considered the mage to be cold and unemotional, but Avery knew better. The man merely thought about his actions before he did them. “Then you really aren’t mad?”
“Avery, I have a very good memory, but I can’t recall a time that I’ve been angry and didn’t regret it somewhere.”
The ranger smiled, relieved. “Well then, how about some breakfast?”
“What’re you still waiting here for?”
After breakfast they spoke with Baron Regald about the dragon’s treasures.
“The largest part of it belongs to Sidmuur,” said Ultrecht as he sipped his tea.
Regald nodded. “True, but I nonetheless want you three to take what you want of it first. After all without you, we would still have none of it.”
Avery spoke up. “Then why don’t we just go and look? We can then make our decisions based on what we know to be there.”
They took a couple of wagons and several trusted guardsmen and went to the cave. It took several hours to get a sense of things, but among the riches they found a box containing the chimes. The three friends each claimed a bag of coins at the insistence of the baron, and Ultrecht collected the chimes. Avery raised a couple of eyebrows when he claimed a small pouch containing five dice carved from semi-precious gemstones. He winked. “For a gnomish friend of mine.”
They stayed for the wedding. The whole township seemed to be in attendance. Sara was probably the most glorious bride in all of history, especially since Armegon and Ultrecht were competing to ensure it.
Drew, along with Emma gave the bride away and Ultrecht stood for Regald. Once the celebrations were over, they quietly departed after the inevitable good-byes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)