Gilmreth the Awakening

by Raymond L. Weil

  She had expected some type of message, but nothing like this! This had to be important; something Malcon had kept hidden away with his sorcery all these long centuries. Lynol wondered if she should go back up to the house and get her father so they could both explore what was below together. She hesitated, and then realized this was something she needed to do right now! This was something meant for her and her only.

  Lynol forced herself to take the first hesitant step into the doorway and began slowly descending. Carefully she walked down, counting the steps until she had reached fifty. It was dark and Lynol had to feel for each step cautiously with her foot, her left hand touching the wall beside her. There was no sound except her tentative footsteps and rapid breathing.

  I should have brought a lantern she thought, nervously peering into the darkness before her. How was she going to be able to see anything? As she took the next step, she sensed she had arrived at the bottom. The dim moonlight failed to penetrate this far. Lynol stood in absolute darkness, unsure of what to do next. She felt a little foolish standing there.

  In the center of the room, a nebulous blue light suddenly flickered. The light swelled up to reveal the figure of an older, mature man standing upon a raised dais. It was the same enigmatic figure who had appeared in her visions at the Sylvar Stone up above. His feet were braced apart under a fine robe of white silk with a blue dragon insignia upon both shoulders. His blue eyes seemed to stare deeply into her innermost self; his outreached hands flickered with lambent fire. A quick gesture and braziers on the walls suddenly ignited with a cool, smokeless, magical flame. They cast their dim, yellow glow throughout the large stone walled room.

  Lynol gasped and looked about the room in wonder. It was much larger than she had thought. Incredulously, she saw that one entire wall was covered with shelves reaching upwards to the high ceiling. They were crammed with more books and scrolls than she had ever seen or even imagined could be in one place. Lynol blinked in surprise as she looked about. There were other strange artifacts setting on tables and benches around the room whose purposes she couldn’t ascertain.

  The glowing figure laughed his voice strong and vibrant. His long fingers flicked infinitesimally and as they did so, ensconced white candles on the walls flared and hot wax rippled slowly down to harden beneath, adding their light to the room. Then he stopped and gazed at Lynol expectantly.

  “Who are you?” Lynol stammered, too stunned to breathe.

  There was a long pause, and Lynol drew a sharp, deep breath as she waited for an answer. She didn’t know if there would be a response or not. This was beyond her wildest expectations. This room had been hidden beneath the Sylvar Stone for all these years and no one had suspected. She knew without a doubt what this hidden room had to be: Malcon’s hidden cache of sorcery information and secret place of study. It had been here all along, within easy walking distance of the house!

  Another gesture and beside him appeared a beautiful vision, a fleeting one now in a flowing white robe, now in cut off jeans and blouse; a beautiful young girl who, before she vanished, turned for a long last mournful look at Lynol. A deep sadness reflected in her baleful light blue eyes.

  “Approach the second dais,” the man’s voice rang out clearly and commandingly as the apparition turned in the blue light and pointed to a spot near it.

  Looking to where the glowing chimerical specter pointed, Lynol saw a small stone table raised on another dais next to the apparition. Lynol felt a droplet of cold perspiration trickle down her back and as she tried to calm herself. She forced a neutral expression upon her face and strode forward, trying not to show any fear.

  On the table lay an object covered by a fine white silk cloth. It was cleverly embroidered and covered with intertwined arcane symbols. As Lynol cautiously approached, it began to shimmer with a pale white light, which was not a reflection. Hesitantly reaching out she removed the cloth, drawing in a deep awestruck breath. She stared captivated at the glowing amulet revealed. It appeared to be a perfect white pearl, gold-set and hung on a finely crafted golden chain. It was simple, yet elegant. Lynol held her breath in amazement. It was beautiful! The pearl was slightly larger than her thumbnail.

  Lynol picked it up, encircling it in her closed hand and momentarily containing the light, feeling the vibrant warmth that radiated magically from it. Opening her hand, she gathered up the golden chain so that the amulet rested protectively among its waiting coils like a small egg. She gazed back at the spectral figure, her blue eyes wide with wonder and full of unanswered questions.

  “You must learn to try harder. You must discipline yourself. You must learn to concentrate if you are to face Gilmreth!” the mysterious figure said with conviction and a measure of inner strength. “Your failures in your studies have been due to a lack of focus, a lack of intensity in what you were trying to do, not from a lack of power or ability!”

  Looking into the face of the man in the blue light, Lynol asked again. “Who are you, and what is this place? What do you know of Gilmreth? How do you know about my studies?” A wrinkle of curiosity touched Lynol’s face. Her mind was full of a thousand questions screaming out to be answered. For some reason, all feelings of fear had vanished. She knew she was perfectly safe in this room, that this glowing mysterious figure would never harm her.

  The figure hesitated briefly, staring at Lynol, the man’s eyes locking with hers. “This is your place of learning, and I will be your teacher. I am Malcon Sylvar.”

  For a long moment, silence held the room captive, the glowing figure staring benevolently, almost expectantly at Lynol, waiting for her response. She stared back uncomprehendingly. What he had said was impossible!

  “Malcon Sylvar!” she stammered feeling confused, her face turning pale. “That cannot be! Malcon died over a thousand years ago when he wove the sleeping spell that even now holds Gilmreth captive beneath Firestorm Mountain!”

  The lofty figure stared down, a look of unprecedented sadness flickering gently across his glowing face. Memories of ancient times, of past deeds, of people who had long since faded to dust, and a daughter he hadn’t been able to save.

  “I am Malcon Sylvar, or at least that part of him that could be preserved by this device of the ancients,” the glowing figure replied. “I am a simulacrum, a facsimile of what Malcon once was. All of his knowledge and memories are contained in this dais. Malcon found this device in an ancient underground ruin from the Golden Age. It had been preserved in a sealed vacuum, along with other strange mechanisms. He contrived to bring it here to his storage cache and study room. This room has also been kept in a sealed vacuum to preserve its contents until they were needed once again. A special spell has protected this room so nothing would age.”

  “Why?” Lynol demanded a stir of excitement and anticipation prickling the back of her neck.

  Everything seemed so unreal. It was as if she was in a dream. She was afraid that, at any moment, she might wake up. She knew she was having a hard time grasping everything around her and believing what she was hearing.

  “Why save and preserve all of this? There hasn’t been a sorcerer in the family since Malcon’s time,” asked Lynol, looking at the figure standing close to her on the dais. “I am the first and only Sylvar in generations who has possessed any of the ancient sorcery powers.” The apparition only continued to stare at her knowingly as if waiting for her to continue.

  Lynol stood enthralled, gazing at the shimmering figure of Malcon Sylvar. She realized here at last might be the key to mastering her fledgling sorcery powers. In this room was the knowledge she had been so desperately searching for. She could barely contain her rising excitement with the sudden hope and dawning realization of what this amazing discovery might mean.

  “Why did Malcon store himself in this dais?” she asked at last, not understanding how such a miraculous thing could be done. To actually be standing here talking to Malcon Sylvar, the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived, was incredible.

  Lynol too
k a deep breath, staring at the glowing figure. She wanted to race back up the stairs and get her father but her feet refused to move. She was too enthralled by where she was and who was standing before her. Please don’t let this be a dream, she thought intensely. I must have a teacher if I am to learn to be a sorceress. This may be my only hope.

  “When Malcon returned from one of his long journeys, he found his home in ruins. The huge stones had been ripped from their foundation, the poisonous scourge of dragon fire defacing the ground above, his daughter Lys carried off by his ancient foe Gilmreth,” the glowing figure said sadly with what looked like a tear coming from his right eye. “After Malcon failed to destroy the dragon, he spent weeks going through the information contained in the books and scrolls his family had gathered throughout the ages. In one, he found a vague reference about the possible location of the final home of a sorcerer who had escaped the purges of the Armageddon of the Golden Age. This sorcerer, Ramael, supposedly helped create the dragons.”

  “That’s where he found the sleeping spell,” Lynol interjected quietly, staring at Malcon’s glowing figure. This confirmed her father’s story.

  “Yes,” the glowing specter replied with a slight nod. “Malcon found a powerful spell that would put Gilmreth to sleep. Malcon had a powerful amulet, but even that couldn’t prevail against the dragon. He was forced to sacrifice his own life to entrap Gilmreth in the sleeping spell. Part of the spell he wove against Gilmreth harnessed the energy currents near the mountain. Malcon knew that, for generations, sorcery would be constrained in the close proximity of Firestorm Mountain. Only with the weakening of the sleeping spell or the emergence of a very powerful sorcerer or sorceress would the power lines be freed to allow sorcery to return to this part of the world. Malcon stored his memories and knowledge in this simulacrum, knowing that someday Gilmreth would awaken and a new sorceress would have to be trained.”

  “What about this amulet; is it Malcon’s?” asked Lynol, holding the chain and letting the white pearl hang surrounded by its golden circle, glowing with a baleful white light.

  “No, that amulet belonged to Lys,” the glowing figure replied with a gentle, sad smile. “Malcon retrieved it from the dragon’s lair before their final confrontation. It’s a tremendously powerful amulet. At the time of Lys’ death, it was almost as powerful as the one Malcon possessed.”

  “Lys,” whispered Lynol, running her finger gently over the white pearl, marveling at its cool surface and the gentle glow that came from within. “That was the figure you showed me earlier; that was Lys!” Her features clouded at the realization, and a single tear ran down her cheek.

  “Yes,” Malcon replied, gazing thoughtfully at Lynol with a sad, mournful smile. “The amulet has been under my protection for all this time. This room was shielded and protected from the loss of the power by a device of the ancients. For all these years, I have focused a minute amount of energy into Lys amulet, making it stronger and stronger. The more energy that is focused into an amulet and the more often it is used causes the amulet to bond with the energy currents, dramatically increasing its strength.”

  “That’s why my amulet is becoming easier to use,” Lynol said softly, pulling her small sapphire out from beneath her blouse.

  “Yes,” replied Malcon, gazing curiously at Lynol’s amulet. “Lys’ amulet has been conditioned over the years to the point where it may be nearly as powerful as the legendary Stone of Loraine. You must be extremely careful when you use it. It could be extremely dangerous if stringent mental control isn’t maintained and could cause serious harm if used improperly.”

  Lynol returned the amulet to its resting place, covering it once again with the small silk cloth, marveling at the shrewd complexity of the handiwork of the symbols and their interaction with each other. It must truly be powerful if Malcon cautioned against its use.

  “You said you were going to be my teacher,” said Lynol, gazing into the blue eyes of Malcon. “Where do we begin?”

  “So much like Lys,” the figure said, recalling an earlier student who had also been so full of curiosity and life. “Your studies will begin now and continue daily. They will be grueling and difficult. Gilmreth will not take another Sylvar sorceress; this time things will be different.” He looked at Lynol and part of a smile touched his mouth. “Where do we begin, my dear? Why, at the beginning of course; where else?”

  Chapter Eight

  Standing upon the balcony of her new living quarters, Jalene stared with mesmerized satisfaction at the towering white edifice that climbed upward toward the stars from the center of Draydon. For many long, tedious months, workers had slaved away night and day, driven on to ever greater effort by Jalene’s demoniacal desire to see her great temple completed. Ruthlessly, she had forced the people to work in harsh conditions, only stopping long enough to eat, drink, and sleep for a few precious hours.

  Many had fallen exhausted, some had even died, but Jalene had merely conscripted more work recruits from the outlying areas. Only twice had she been forced to delay work by a single day. Both times the heat had been overwhelming, bringing work to a stop. Once the heat abated, the workers returned to the frantic pace of construction she demanded.

  Now, finally, it was done! The white stone temple rose majestically one hundred feet above the ground, its massive base four hundred feet on each side. The top of the pyramid was dominated by a flat platform two hundred feet across, marred only by the four large, stone dragons, which sat staring out over the huge square before the temple. Brilliant red rubies served as the dragons’ eyes, glowing threateningly red in the reflected light from the burning torches that lit the temple.

  “Milady, the great temple is finished,” a tall man in a red robe, inlaid with gold along its edges, reported detachedly. “Everything is just as you requested.”

  This was the man Jalene had chosen to become her high priest. His powerful form and the cold, expressionless cast of his face would serve her well. Jalene had scoured Draydon and the surrounding towns seeking men to serve obediently as her priests and guards at the temple. Storn Daes, the man in front of her, had qualified adequately for High Priest. The man had no qualms, was ruthless, and obeyed Jalene without question. She found he would do what she wanted even without her sorcery to compel him. He had done a magnificent job completing the temple.

  “Already, the first sacrifices have been selected and are being prepared in the temple,” Daes reported in a cold, emotionless voice, standing next to Jalene and staring out at the great temple.

  It was night, and dozens of large, strategically placed burning torches lit the temple. The flickering yellow light cast shadows across the huge square before it and upon the temple itself.

  “It’s time then,” Jalene said with a sinister smile, relishing the moment, realizing her time had finally arrived.

  She gazed coldly past the temple toward the darkened peaks of Firestorm Mountain lying quiescently beneath the stars and pale quarter moon, feeling her rising excitement. She pictured the dragon sleeping beneath. Her dragon! For tonight would bring about the rising of the dragon. Gilmreth would return to the world!

  “Awaken the great dragon, Milady,” the priest said tonelessly, bowing down on his knees in humble submission. “Let your reign begin. Summon the great dragon Gilmreth so the people can truly see your power.”

  Jalene gazed down piercingly at Storn, relishing his desire to please. “Arise Storn, and tell the other priests to prepare for the coming of the dragon,” Jalene commanded with a callous voice, turning away from the priest and gazing back toward Firestorm Mountain, her eyes glowing black in unbridled anticipation. “Summon the people to the temple, and prepare the first Feast of the Dragon!”

  “As you command, Milady,” replied Daes, rising and leaving her apartment to finish the preparations for what was soon to come.

  -

  For another hour, Jalene waited in her living quarters, giving Daes the necessary time to finish the final preparations. Walkin
g back out onto the balcony of the lavish suite of rooms she had taken over and remodeled, she stared out fervently at the city.

  The furnishings in her quarters were like those of a Queen. The wood on every chair and table was oiled to a shine. The carpets were rich underfoot and costly tapestries hung from the walls. Her gaze wandered across the city, which she controlled with an iron grip. She had totally enslaved its people, using her near omnipotent powers to subjugate its populace. The few that resisted had been tortured and killed in public floggings, which the workers had been forced to watch. That had quelled further unrest.

  Now Jalene was obeyed without question. The public officials and businessmen were nothing more than mere puppets, totally under her control and catering to her every whim. Walking back into the spacious, thickly carpeted room, she strode over to the heavy glass case in its center.

  Within the sealed case, the Stone of Loraine sat glowing softly in the bright yellow light from the burning oil lamps placed strategically around the room. The large red ruby of the scepter was casting a spectral glow of its own. It reeked with dormant power, waiting for Jalene to fulfill her destiny and awaken the dragon Gilmreth! A protective spell woven by her prevented anyone else from being able to touch the glass case and live. No one but Jalene could touch the Stone of Loraine!

  A quick gesture with one hand and a flickering of nebulous red light appeared instantly at her fingertips. She cast the simple pattern at the case and made it safe to touch. Removing the top of the glass case, she took out the heavy scepter, which held the softly glowing stone. Walking to a massive oak table, Jalene laid the scepter down.

  Opening her old sorcery book to the dragon spell she paused, savoring the moment. For weeks now, she had resisted using her sorcery, building up her strength for this eventful moment. Everything she wanted, everything she desired, was about to come to fruition this night. Jalene’s breathing increased and her heart beat faster from the anticipation of what she was about to do.