Gilmreth the Awakening

by Raymond L. Weil

  “There are no others,” her father replied, shaking his head. “This is the only book of sorcery that was neither destroyed nor placed in Malcon’s hidden cache. Even though sorcery vanished for many generations, we Sylvars always knew that someday it would return. The prophecies handed down through the generations predicted the rising of a powerful Sylvar sorceress who would appear with the awakening of Gilmreth. This book was put back for that eventuality.”

  “Who put the book there?” asked Lynol, laying the book down on the table but still leaving her right hand touching it. She was almost afraid it would disappear if she let go.

  “I believe Malcon Sylvar placed the book there,” replied Damon, placing his hand on top of Lynol’s and squeezing it reassuringly. “He knew full well what the prophecies foretold, and the book was placed in the alcove to help train the future Sylvar Sorceress.”

  “You really believe that I may be that sorceress?” Lynol asked slowly with doubt and a trace of fear in her quivering voice.

  She still found it hard to believe she could be the sorceress mentioned in the prophecies. It was just too unbelievable and frightening with dangerous implications. Her mind was a jumble of mixed emotions.

  “Perhaps,” Damon replied slowly, trying his best to keep the worry and concern for his daughter out of his voice. He had rehearsed this conservation in his mind most of the morning. He knew he had to do his best to hide his own fear and worry from Lynol, lest she become even more frightened at what lay ahead of her. “The mountain is rumbling and you have demonstrated rudimentary sorcery powers already; the first since Malcon Sylvar’s time. The prophecies predict very clearly these occurrences. If this is the prophecy occurring, then we must prepare!”

  Lynol was staring at him, her mouth open in surprise. So much had happened so quickly in the last twenty-four hours. Her mind was still trying to grasp the startling implications of everything. She was only sixteen; this was an entirely new world of experiences and possible dangers opening up for her. She still felt very uncertain how to react. She wasn’t even sure she wanted these responsibilities.

  “You will study this book and what it contains several hours each day, plus learn the family’s secret history,” Damon went on, wishing that things were different. He feared very much for the safety of his daughter, his only child. “This book is highly descriptive about how to enact the sorcery spells it contains. Malcon created it specifically to act as a teaching tool for Lys during his long absences.”

  “I just hope I can understand it,” spoke Lynol, turning several pages and glancing at a few of the spells in the first part of the book.

  “This book allowed Lys to become a very powerful sorceress,” her father continued. “I hope it will serve you as well. If your powers continue to grow and you learn how to enact many of these spells, then we will know that you are indeed the sorceress of the prophecies.”

  Lynol thumbed through a few more pages, marveling at the complexity of the spells and the clearness of the instructions. With this book, just maybe she could learn what sorcery she was capable of doing.

  Could she actually be destined to be the powerful sorceress of the prophecies, or were her budding abilities just a fluke? Were her abilities just a freak occurrence in the family that actually meant nothing at all? But then again, she and her father were the only two Sylvars remaining. There were the rumblings from the mountain, which seemed to be getting stronger with each passing day. There was also the other sorceress on the far side of the mountains and the inexplicable reaction from the Sylvar Stone the night before.

  Lynol knew deep in her heart that there could be no other; all the signs pointed to her. She would have to try to learn the spells in this book. She didn’t know what else she could do. Lynol suddenly felt dizzy and faint at the thought of what might lie in her future. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  “If I am the sorceress of the ancient prophecies and Gilmreth is awakening, then someday I will have to face the dragon,” whispered Lynol, shaking off the dizziness, her eyes wide with a slight hint of fear as she gazed at her father.

  She felt icy shivers go up and down her back at just the thought. She just couldn’t imagine standing in front of the dragon as a sorceress. Both Lys and Malcon had failed to destroy Gilmreth; both had died when they faced the deadly all-powerful dragon. Was that her future also, to die facing Gilmreth?

  “Perhaps,” Damon replied softly, gazing into his daughter’s captivating light blue eyes, wishing with all of his heart that he could take away the fear. “Gilmreth may not even be awakening, but all the signs say otherwise. The information in this book allowed Lys to learn and to control much of the power she displayed in her confrontation with Gilmreth. Hopefully, you will have the time needed to complete your studies.”

  “But Lys also had Malcon’s brother Glaycon to help her,” Lynol reminded her father, recalling the story from the previous night and what Malcon had written in his note to Lys. “If Lys had any problems with these spells, at least she had someone who could help her. I have no one!”

  “Glaycon was only a weak sorcerer,” her father replied, understanding his daughter’s concern. “He was there to answer Lys’ questions. I wish things were different, Lynol; at least we have the book.”

  “I guess it will have to suffice for now,” responded Lynol, looking down at the book not knowing what else she could do. She needed time to think, to understand what was happening to her. She needed to sort all of this out in her mind.

  “The spells are very detailed, and I’m sure you will be able to figure them out,” her father replied reassuringly. He hoped so; he didn’t know what else they could do. He was trying to put on a brave front for Lynol, but inside he was worried.

  Lynol only nodded, as she slowly turned the pages of the book reading some of the written words.

  Looking at Lynol, as she turned the pages of the sorcery book, Damon felt pride in his daughter. He had accepted what his daughter’s destiny might be, and he would do everything in his power to help her. After all, they were both Sylvars.

  This was the heavy family legacy, the responsibility the Sylvars had held and protected over the long generations since Malcon Sylvar put Gilmreth to sleep so many centuries ago. It was why the family had stayed on the farm so close to the mountain generation after generation, waiting and watching for the signs of Gilmreth’s awakening.

  “We know from the stories, which were handed down, that Lys possibly injured Gilmreth in her clash with the dragon,” Damon spoke up trying to keep his breathing steady, watching Lynol closely. She was only sixteen, and this was a heavy weight to place on such young shoulders. “Not enough to permanently harm the dragon, but she did hurt it nevertheless. We also know that Malcon held off the dragon in his confrontation with Gilmreth and once again, the dragon felt considerable pain. The dragon is not unbeatable; Lys and Malcon proved that. Joined together, their powers might have eventually been powerful enough to destroy Gilmreth.”

  ”But both lost in the end; neither survived their final confrontations with Gilmreth,” Lynol reminded her father, feeling her heart pounding and fearing the inevitable if she had to face the dragon. “I just don’t know if I can do this! I don’t know if I want to do this!”

  “When and if Gilmreth awakens we will search for another way,” replied Damon, leaning forward, placing his large hand on Lynol’s shoulder, and gently squeezing it reassuringly. “We must learn from their mistakes. Remember, the dragon has been asleep for a very long time and he will be extremely weak when he awakens. Perhaps in this weakened state Gilmreth will be vulnerable.”

  Lynol nodded; however, she needed time, a lot of time to practice her sorcery. Lynol feared with all of her heart that they might not have that precious time. “I won’t let you down, father,” she spoke, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. She didn’t know what else to say.

  She knew it would take years for her to learn what her abilities were. Her confrontation with Gi
lmreth was far in the future, or at least she hoped it was. “I will study and learn everything I can, I promise!” She tried her best to keep her self-doubts out of her voice.

  Lynol knew, as a Sylvar, what was expected of her; what her father expected. Nevertheless, the crucial question was, did she genuinely want to set herself upon this path? She had a lot to think about over the next few days.

  -

  Across the mountain, Jalene was already up and wandering the nearly deserted early morning streets of Draydon. In the distance, she could see smoke rising from the cooking ovens in the town’s main market square. Already, tantalizing aromas of cooking meats and sweet breads wafted through the early morning air, serving as a sharp reminder that she hadn’t eaten breakfast.

  The town was still in semi-darkness with the rising sun shielded by the towering heights of Firestorm Mountain. She wore light clothing, a simple blouse and pants. Her destination this morning was the old library archive, which the town meticulously maintained at its heart. Reaching the tall three-story stone building, Jalene went in, coming to a stop before two graying old women curators seated behind a heavy oak desk just inside the entrance.

  “How can we help you this fine morning?” the one to the left spoke, looking up to stare at Jalene with an inquisitive eye. Her gray hair brushed finely back and wrinkles from a long life running in thin lines across her face.

  They didn’t often have visitors this early. Actually, they didn’t have many visitors at all anymore. They looked at Jalene curiously.

  Jalene smiled maliciously, the sharp tips of her teeth brushing her pale lips. Glancing around to make certain no one else was about Jalene moved her right hand, tracing symbols in the air with a rapid flickering of her fingers. She spoke several guttural phrases, watching expectantly as a faint red glow built up around the two helpless women, then faded quickly away. The spell she had woven was a simple one of obedience. It caused the recipient to disclose the truth and obey Jalene without question. The two women sat as if frozen with blank stares upon their faces.

  “I need to see any information you have on sorcery and the dragon Gilmreth,” Jalene said sharply, waiting for a reaction, her dark eyes going piercingly from one old woman to the other as she waited impatiently for a response.

  The older of the two woman curators rose jerkily to her feet and walked off stiffly down one of the dimly lit stone corridors leading deeper into the archives. The woman acted as if she was in a trance, with no trace of emotion or concern on her withered face. Jalene instructed the still seated curator to carry on normally, then turned and hurriedly followed the other old woman down the corridor.

  Narrow windows strategically placed let in some light, and an occasional flickering oil lamp furnished a dim, yellow glow as they walked. Jalene followed, curious and impatient to see where the old woman would take her. Down several dimly lighted corridors they walked, past doors leading to rooms crammed full of books and ancient scrolls. The library was chilly, and Jalene shivered as she followed the elderly curator.

  At last the curator came to a stop, to stand inexplicably before a seemingly solid stone wall. Reaching out, the woman pressed two of the gray stones simultaneously with her hands, causing a section of the wall to suddenly slide back with a loud, protesting groan. Dust sifted down from the opening, indicating that it had been a very long time since this doorway had been opened.

  Looking past the old curator, Jalene saw a set of narrow stairs leading down, disappearing into darkness. A musty smell of stale air long undisturbed flowed around them from the opening. The woman lit a half-empty oil lamp, which was sitting on a dusty shelf just inside and began slowly descending the steps.

  Jalene followed, counting twenty-eight steps before they reached the bottom, to discover they were in a large stone room with a high vaulted ceiling lined with shelves. The shelves were filled with numerous books and scrolls. Many of the books and scrolls were so old the paper was beginning to disintegrate and transform to dust.

  From the thick, undisturbed coating of dust on the floor and walls, it was evident this room hadn’t been entered in years. The old woman sat the oil lamp down on the room’s only table. She turned to face Jalene expectantly, her expression still void of emotion.

  The air in the room was unbelievably dank and stale. Jalene sneezed suddenly from the dust they had stirred up just from their entrance. Raising her right hand, Jalene moved her fingers through a complicated pattern, a barely discernible red radiance linking her fingertips. A sudden light breeze seemed to stir the dust in the room as fresh air replaced the stale. For several long minutes, the magical breeze circulated, refreshing the air in the long sealed up room and removing much of the dust. At last, the glow from Jalene’s fingers faded, and the breeze vanished as if it had never been.

  “You may leave now and continue your normal duties,” Jalene told the curator crisply. “Return in two hours and when you do, bring some fruit and fresh water.”

  Nodding, the old woman turned and mounted the steps, climbing slowly back toward the entrance up above. After several long moments, Jalene heard the entrance slide shut with a loud rumbling groan, sealing her in. Jalene saw there were several large candles placed strategically around the room. With a wave of her hand and a controlled thought they blazed up, casting their flickering yellow light upon the crowded shelves.

  Jalene looked around, trying to decide where to start. From the sheer number of books and scrolls on the shelves, it was very evident that she might be here for a considerable length of time. She sighed heavily, knowing she had a lot of reading to do. This type of search could be extremely tiresome and tedious.

  Going over to the shelves on one wall, she took down several aging volumes and walked back over to the table. Frowning, she concentrated again, and the remaining dust disappeared from the table and the chair as well as the two fragile books she held. Looking around the dimly lit room, she realized with a feeling of deep satisfaction that this was a treasure trove of ancient knowledge; exactly what she had hoped to find in Draydon.

  Sitting down, she slowly opened the first book and began rapidly to thumb through the yellow tattered pages. She knew what she was looking for and would recognize it instantly. Sometime in the remote past, someone had gone to considerable pain and effort to hide these scrolls and books, perhaps to ensure their survival from nonbelievers who might have destroyed them and the dangerous information they contained. With a casual gesture of her hand and a few carefully chosen phrases, the candles on the wall flared up brighter. The oil lamp increased its burning glow helping to cast more light about the room.

  Two hours passed by quickly as she went frustratingly through book after book, not finding what she was seeking. She felt highly aggravated at the curators for the unforgivably poor condition these books and scrolls were in. It was obvious this room had been ignored for far too long.

  The search was tedious with only occasional hints of what she was hunting for. There were numerous references to ancient sorcerers, but nothing tangible about Malcon Sylvar or Gilmreth. Several spells were briefly described, but not in particularly good detail. It was becoming obvious that people who knew very little about sorcery or the dragon had written most of these scrolls and books. Or else who ever had created this room had removed the more valuable documents and hidden them elsewhere.

  The old woman's return, carrying a pitcher of fresh water and a hand woven basket full of assorted fruits, interrupted Jalene’s search. Jalene quickly wove another spell refreshing the rapidly growing stale air in the room.

  After dismissing the woman, Jalene ate several of the tart fruits, washing them down with the cool water. Then, settling back, she began going through more of the ancient decaying books. Jalene’s eyes glanced through the crumbling pages with frustration. Some pages actually turned to fine dust in her hands. In the back of her mind, she had already decided to punish the two elderly curators for the inexcusable condition of the books and scrolls. If what she was seekin
g had been destroyed by their carelessness, they would pay dearly for their negligence!

  -

  After hurriedly completing her morning chores, Lynol retired to her room. Lying back on her bed, she opened the sorcery book her father had given her that morning. For a long time she lay enthralled, reading the ancient volume amazed at the wealth of information it contained and the intricate details that went into casting a spell. It became evident very quickly just how little she actually knew. At least Lys had seen her father and Glaycon practice their sorcery. Lynol had never heard or seen anyone do any of the amazing things mentioned in just the first few pages of this incredible book.

  According to it, sorcery was not actually magic. She was born with some inner gift, a physical ability that allowed her to tap the energy currents that were prevalent everywhere upon the Earth. Most people were unaware of this energy and couldn’t affect it. However, people like Lynol could draw upon it and with the help of the knowledge in this book, cause it to perform what looked like actual magic.

  The gestures made with the hands were nothing more than connecting the energy currents in the air into complicated patterns to allow a sorcerer to better direct and funnel the energies that were present. The words, intoned in specific inflections and pitches, molded and wove the energy patterns as they formed. Storms could be called, people could be healed, plants could be stimulated to grow quicker, and dozens of other seemingly impossible and incredible things were possible.

  -

  Voices outside interrupted her reading prematurely in the early afternoon. Getting up, she walked to the kitchen door to gaze curiously outside. Aldin Gor and his son Kalvin were standing next to her father, engrossed in conversation at the base of the steps. She was surprised at how much time had passed since she had started going through the sorcery book.

  Smiling to herself, she opened the door, stepping quietly out onto the porch. She and Kalvin had been friends for years. They had spent many long hours as children playing in the old barn. Kalvin was always the dashing prince who rescued her from the evil dragon Gilmreth. The Gors lived on the farmstead just to the south of theirs and were their closest neighbors. The Gors were also the only ones that actually believed that Gilmreth and sorcery once existed.