Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers

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Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers Page 37

by Joseph Paradis


  Coles broke his eyes away, staring a hole through his bare feet. “Besides what I already told you, I don’t know…Master.”

  Chiron waited for Cole to look up before responding. “You failed because your mind is as flexible as Morthainian glass. Remarkably strong of course, of that there is no doubt. Your actions in Costas and your current mastery of Rage are iron-clad testaments to the strength of your mind and soul. However, as the Morthainian glass is strong, it is just as unyielding. It has its limits. You on the other hand, need only accept the limits you impose upon yourself.”

  “What do you mean, Master? What limits have I given myself?” Cole asked, hiding his shame behind a mask of curiosity.

  Chiron raised a hand, flexing it casually into a branch of ebony knives. Cole had never seen Chiron summon munisica before. “Rage will always get results, as Master Roth is apt to tell you. It may not be the most efficient, or the most desirable, but Rage will always get results. You mastered the red magic first, just as Varka did. And, like Varka, you have used it as a crutch ever since. When you’re faced with a problem you can’t solve by mundane means, your Rage pops up like a reflex. It has made you formidable of body, but stiff and stale of mind.”

  “Just like the glass,” Cole said, feeling the softness of his unarmored hands.

  “Precisely,” Chiron said, dismissing his munisica with a lazy flick of his wrist. The Wisdom Walker rose to his feet and walking over to Cole, clapped his palms on Cole’s shoulders. “Now, what other tools might you have in that toolbox?”

  “I’m junk with Wisdom, and my Passion is unreliable. I don’t even have my bond with Goran anymore,” Cole admitted, mushing his lips together. Saying it aloud hit him with a sense of crushing finality.

  “Ah but you do have them. Do not disregard one of your tools just because it is a little dull. Sharpen it,” Chiron said, curving an eyebrow. “You have another tool at your disposal, one that requires neither magic nor inherent gifts, though it may be the hardest one to sharpen.”

  “What is it?” Cole asked, intrigued.

  “It is your power of reason. Logical deduction. When wielded by a fluid mind, this tool can work through any quandary.”

  “So you’re saying I need to be smarter?” Cole asked, feeling not so smart at the moment.

  Chiron crossed his arms behind his back. “Think of your ability to reason as your hands. Your magic, memories, relationships, assets, these are your tools. Your hands must know how to use each tool, and more importantly, when to use them.”

  Cole imagined himself with stubby, rough hands. Hands calloused from years of swinging a simple hammer and nothing more. Other tools were in his toolbox, but he wielded them like a child would, clumsy and lacking finesse.

  “How am I supposed to learn how to be more clever? I’m still new to this planet and I’ve only seen a small part. I’m just as likely to be killed going for a walk as by our enemies,” Cole said, thinking of the White Sands. If not for the unit he would have drowned in the insubstantial powder.

  “You are confusing critical thinking with wisdom - the non-magical wisdom of course. Experience begets wisdom, but critical thinking only requires a flexible mind and a situational awareness. Wisdom without reason is as useful as a ship with no crew.” Chiron rolled his sleeves, stretching his fingers. “But to answer your question, the path to cleverness is traveled by those who do not shy from the unknown. When an answer is veiled, one must use every faculty at hand to lift the veil. You, Cole of Terra, must learn what to do when you don’t know what to do. Are you ready for your next task?”

  Cole blinked, taken aback. He was nowhere near ready for another task. What he was ready for was a hearty meal and a warm bed. Chiron’s next lesson was likely to tax him to his limits, and he hadn’t the clarity of mind or the strength in his bones for anything more. Still, he could tell by the lack of sympathy on Chiron’s face that things were not about to get any easier for him.

  “I am ready, Master,” Cole said, wishing he hadn’t.

  “Very well,” Chiron said, tapping an emerald fingertip to Cole’s brow. He then swung his chair around and sat Cole into it. “Your first task is to tell me if the chair you sit upon is real.”

  “Okay, that sounds easy enough.” A nervous laugh escaped Cole’s lips as his hands reached unbidden to the seat under him. There had to be more to it. “Are there any restrictions?”

  “You may use everything within your power to deduce the validity of the chair.” An ominous shadow fell over Chiron’s eyes. “The challenge is that you must complete it without the aid of your senses.”

  Cole’s heart seemed to trip over itself. “Without my senses? What does that even mean?”

  “That is the veil that you must lift.” Chiron took a step back and settled himself into another chair.

  Cole sat still as a statue. He resisted the urge to reach between his knees and grip the seat, just to keep it from going anywhere. When would Chiron’s magic take effect? Had it already? He ran his tongue over his teeth and cheeks, unsure if he tasted anything. He sniffed, wondering if there was anything to smell in the first place. Cole’s eyes stung and itched, but he was afraid to blink. What if he opened them and there was nothing to see?

  For a moment nothing seemed to happen. He was quite ready to blurt out the answer while he still could, but something odd made itself plain to him; he could no longer feel Oberon’s warmth on the back of his neck. Cole swung his hand back, slapping the skin, but felt nothing. He dragged his fingernail sharply over his neck, but there was no pain. Fumbling, Cole examined his fingers. There was blood running from his nails, but no sensation of warmth or wetness. He brought the blood to his mouth and licked it, tasting nothing. He couldn’t even tell if the finger had made it to his mouth. Cole rocked in the chair, snapping his fingers and clapping his hands, producing no sound whatsoever. He knew his heart was kicking like a mule, but there was no sign of it. He stretched his dry eyes as wide as they would go, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest, though he had no urge to breathe. Never in his life had his sense of sight felt so inadequate a thing to view the world with. As meager as it was, he wailed inside himself as it too began to fade. The last thing Cole saw was Chiron’s steady eyes watching over him.

  Panic became him. Where was he? What was this place? Could it even be a place?

  Cole flailed with no body, screamed with no lungs. There was nothing to reciprocate the commands of his brain. He was trapped in a void absolute, unable to quell the sickening dread that shocked and pulled at every corner of his limitless prison. He was powerless. He was nothing.

  He struggled with everything he had against infinite openness. When nothing happened, he fought harder, gradually coming to the realization that he had no idea what he struggled against. With utmost caution, he eased up and released some of the tension. The panic relented, but only barely. The result gave Cole a shred of confidence. He had elicited a reaction upon whatever this environment was, using nothing but his own will.

  There was no immediate danger, nothing at all causing him direct harm. With satisfying recognition, Cole identified each of his unleashed emotions wreaking havoc around him. He may not have his senses, but his emotions were certainly something he could feel. He now knew exactly where he was. It was a place he had never left; his own mind. The knowledge bolstered him. With every ounce of willpower he possessed, he shed the crushing Fear of non-existence. The tumultuous ocean stilled and slowed to a quiet eddy. Cole watched passively as each of his wild emotions retreated beneath him, dragged away by his cackling Fear. With his mind quiet, Cole took a deep mental breath.

  Instinctively, Cole drew himself to his center. Finding the stone room was no trouble at all. It was easy in fact, and clearer than ever. The conical stalactite and the pedestal were there waiting for him, the water already flowing. Cole placed himself beneath the clear rope of water, reveling in how soothing it was. The stress melted from him, and to his very pleasant surprise, he heard his
own laughter echo above the chamber. The water was perfectly cool as it rippled over him. He could feel things here, if only in his imagination. His laughter thundered to him from above the domed ceiling.

  On a whim, he willed his body into the room. As he reached out, a vague concept of his naked hand swam in front of his vision. He had legs too, but only a fuzzy idea of them. He could have focused more on the details, but then the room would have faded. He rather liked having a place to be. Cole moved weightlessly over to the cone, running his fingers over the little marble orbs of his memories. The cascading water followed his fingers, running down his arm in a wandering line and soaking his clothes. Cole laughed, amused by what he was now wearing; jeans and a hooded sweater from Earth.

  He pulled at the clothes. They felt real enough. The cotton of his sweater was a little rough from too many washes, and his jeans were loose and breathable, perfectly broken-in.

  One of the little orbs on the stalactite glinted to him. Cole dug his nails in and pried it from its nest, bringing it to his eye. Inside, a memory played for him. It was his first moments in the forest outside Costas. He was in his hospital gown, yanking his foot from the squishy, fake rock. Cole replaced the marble, clicking it into place. As he did, he felt something else click into place, granting him a sense of much-needed orientation.

  He was in his mind, of that there was no doubt. He knew his body was on the deck of Chiron’s house, where he was in the middle of a task; determining the validity of a chair. As if waiting for him to remember, an exact copy of the chair in question appeared next to the pedestal. Just as his clothes and body, this too was merely a fabrication. Still, it would make a nice place to sit.

  Cole slumped into his newly imagined chair and considered it. He had no means of interacting with things outside the stone room, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. As Chiron had instructed, he inventoried his toolbox. Curious, he reached for his Rage first. His munisica flashed into being upon his illusory hands. Something else flashed from his periphery. A red toolbox rested against the wall of the room, a crude mallet sticking out of the top drawer. Cole’s laughter echoed above the chamber. Rage and hammers would be of no use to him here.

  His breath caught in his throat and he jolted upright. The water ceased its flow from the cone. If his Rage worked in here, surely his other magics would.

  “Eliza!” Cole hollered as loudly as he could.

  Her mind spiked from his excitement before lulling back to the gentle strumming of a harp. “You scared the shadows off of me! You feel odd. What’s wrong, Cole?”

  Cole poured his affection through the bond. “Eliza! I never knew how good you could feel. Wait a second, this means you’re real!”

  She responded with bubbling amusement. “As far as I know, yes. What brought about this revelation?”

  “Well, if I’m real, then you must be real too,” Cole said, feeling the matter settled.

  She went utterly silent, though Cole could feel a drip of annoyance staining their bond.

  “Eliza!” Cole nudged.

  “Cole, what is it?” she shot at him. “I’m in the middle of a lesson with Roth. If you wish to play games with me then you’ll have to wait.”

  Cole’s excitement mounted, as the breathing above the ceiling quickened. “It can’t wait, I’m sorry but I’ll explain later. I need a favor.”

  “What is it?” she asked as echoes of a sharp pain rang through their link.

  Cole infused their link with a sense of importance. “I need you to use my body. Look through my eyes and do something for me. Tell me -no, show me what you see. I need everything.”

  “This is ridiculous,” she said, withdrawing somewhat.

  “I know, I know, but can you do it?” Cole pleaded.

  She sighed, stepping closer to the link. “Of course I can. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  Cole faded from his center. He needed to be as clear and open as possible for this to work. The fraternal bond widened and thrummed as a few blurred images and hollow sounds came to him, distorted as if watched through a TV with a bad signal. The bond hardened and Cole grasped it with everything he had. The scene became crystal clear, though he still had no control.

  Chiron peeled a long dark fruit, meticulously choosing each leaf before prying it open as if picking the wrong one might spoil the whole thing. His eyes went up, peering into Cole’s re-transmitted vision with mild interest.

  “Ah, I see now.” Eliza beamed with realization. “You are disconnected. Oberon’s light, you are entirely disconnected! How is this possible?”

  “Chiron did it, it’s part of a lesson,” Cole said, his excitement bubbling over into her. “Eliza listen, I need you to use my body and show me what I am sitting on. Say it out loud, with my mouth.”

  Her reluctance was palpable. “Cole, that is…a most intimate thing to ask. Are you sure?”

  “Please,” he begged.

  Cole felt the bond creak and strain. This was pushing the boundaries of what their Passion was capable of.

  His five senses came through disorganized and unsynchronized. His sight was most clear and transmitted first, followed sluggishly by his hearing and then his sense of touch. It was unnerving and nauseating, inducing a sort of inverse vertigo within him. Cole struggled to keep his symptoms from spilling back into Eliza.

  He watched as his body stood, turning slowly. The scuffing of his feet came next, then the sensation of movement. Eliza forced his hand down, tapping his finger against the high back of the chair. A moment later, he felt the vibrations in his throat as both his and Eliza’s voices played into his mind.

  “It’s just a chair,” they said together.

  The fraternal bond waned as his organic senses waxed. His sight, touch, and hearing harmonized in perfect synchronicity. He was back in his body.

  Standing upright and breathing on his own, Cole rubbed against Eliza, feeling another jolt of pain from her end.

  “That was perfect. Are you all right?” he asked, wincing.

  Agony shot through their bond. “I will be once Roth finds somewhere else to stand besides my neck. I too am in the middle of a lesson.”

  Cole offered his wordless apology.

  “Think nothing of it. Now go learn what you can. Do not disappoint Varka.” She winked out of his mind before he had a chance to apologize, leaving behind an unbreakable golden strand.

  Flexing his arms and legs, Cole embraced control of his body and met Chiron’s gaze. “It’s just a chair.”

  Chiron set the fruit down. “Explain.”

  “Reality is relative,” Cole said, kicking his toe against the chair’s leg. “Here and now, this chair, that house, the trees below us, they are all real. You are real. But only to me, and only right now.” Cole fell silent for a moment, waiting for the right words before continuing. “Without my senses, the entire world ceased to exist. I wasn’t connected to any of it, so it didn’t matter, it wasn’t relevant. None of it was real.”

  “You must have felt trapped inside your own mind, no?” Chiron asked.

  Cole frowned. “At first, yeah. It was terrifying, but not the worst thing I’ve ever been through. After I got ahold of myself it didn’t seem like I was trapped. It was more like living in a dream.”

  “Indeed. And now that you have returned to this reality, what do you make of the chair?” Chiron asked, nudging his eyes towards the chair.

  “It’s just a chair,” Cole said with a nervous giggle.

  “Of course it is.” Chiron snatched the fruit off the table and continued peeling it absentmindedly. “So, how did you know Eliza was real? How can you be sure that you’re not still imagining all of this?”

  “I, I’m not sure,” Cole stuttered. Concern washed over him as the implications loomed up from the shadows of his mind. “I didn’t think about it at the time. She…she felt real. And I knew that I was real.” Cole resisted the temptation to call upon her again just to check.

  Chiron chuckled, finally easing t
he tension between them. “You did very well, Cole. A sight better than your first task, though I suppose you didn’t set the bar very high.”

  “Really?” Cole exclaimed. “I didn’t fail?”

  “Aethers no!” Chiron swatted his hand dismissively. “The only failure is one that you do not learn from. Now let us move on from this lesson! There is much for us to cover.”

  Cole’s heart sank along with his hopes. He was dead tired. That lesson had taken the last bit of his reserves, and now that it was over, his lethargy was back heavier than ever. His stubborn pride wouldn’t carry him through another minute, let alone another lesson.

  “Master Chiron?” Cole said, unable to mask his desperation any longer.

  Chiron inclined his head in answer. “What is it?”

  Cole forced his eyes open half-way, “I can’t take any more. I need sleep.” He knew he was starving too, but next to his exhaustion even his clawing hunger wasn’t a priority.

  If Chiron was disappointed, his face didn’t show it. He rose from his chair and offered Cole the peeled meat of the dark fruit. Cole took it with no intention of eating.

  “We all have our limits, and they are there for good reason,” Chiron said, his eyes piercing through Cole’s droopy lids. “However, we do not have the luxury of indulging our limits when sailing the oceans of consequence. When you are ready, eat the fruit. It is called a blackstout, and it will nourish you for days on end. However, as for the limits of your need for sleep, there are but two solutions.”

  Cole tried to ask what they were, but could only manage an unintelligible mumble.

  “You can sleep, right here and now. You will wake fully rested and ready for another day’s lessons. However, every breath spent dreaming is another inch of ground The Three will take from us. Each passing moment, countless soul flies will be tortured and broken beyond repair, who will then return to torment their kin. Every hour another warrior takes his last breath. All while you sleep.”

 

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