by John Mangold
With that, the party moved towards the open carriage’s portal. Nia climbed in first with a little help from the stout man. Torrez motioned to help Maluem up and onto the cart’s floor, but she quickly rebuffed his outstretched hand.
“Thank you, but your assistance is not needed,” Maluem stated flatly before pulling herself up to the carriage’s elevated floor. “Even us ‘backward types’ can figure out how to access a transport unaided.”
Her remark set Torrez back a bit, but he quickly recovered. Once he had helped his wife into the carriage, he commenced tossing their luggage unceremoniously into the compartment. By the time he was done with the bags, the train had already begun to move. With an outburst of whistles, hissing, and the squealing of metal wheels, the giant beast began to lurch forward.
With a run and a leap, Torrez flung himself onto the wagon floor, his wife helping to pull him the rest of the way in. As the machine picked up momentum, the group began to busy themselves, making the compartment a bit more comfortable. Once they had all worked out their own spaces for sleep, the small party began to relax.
11.
Traveling the Rails
Maluem laid down the staff and collar, taking care to cover them with her greatcoat. Fishing through her pockets for anything that might resemble food, she came upon an odd object. Pulling it out, she once again recognized the Acolyte pendant that Volo had once worn. Maluem could not remember moving it when she had changed clothes, but clearly, she had. Focusing in on it, she pulled forth her own necklace from beneath her blouse. She was now a Sorcerer, in title only, but she could not bring herself to remove the onetime symbol of her training.
She managed to undo the knot that held Volo’s pendant in place with a little effort, then worked it off its string. She then unhinged the latch on her own necklace with a quick motion and removed it from around her neck. Placing it on her lap, she slowly worked Volo’s pendant onto the string to rest beside her own. This pleased her, though she was not sure why. Somehow, it just seemed a fitting reminder of the man. Placing the device around her neck once more, she looked up to find Shelia staring at her with wide eyes. Self-consciously, Maluem concealed the necklace once more beneath the neckline of her blouse.
“You’re one, aren’t you?” Shelia whispered immediately. “You’re a Mystic…I mean a Sorcerer, aren’t you?”
“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” Maluem replied. “I am but a simple traveler, seeking my fortune abroad. I am a vagabond, just like you, nothing more.”
“I have seen those pendants before,” Shelia continued as though Maluem had not spoken. “It was on an immigrant from the south. They are the symbols of an ‘Acolyte,’ isn’t that right? But why would you be wearing two of them? Did those belong to your students?”
Maluem looked up to find that she now held both Entwhistles’ undivided attention. Looking at the pair of them, she weighed the possibility of continuing the lie, insisting that she was nothing but a simple traveler. Still, the chances of them believing her seemed to be growing distant very quickly. Besides, a quick glance at Nia showed that the doctor was watching Maluem just a close as the couple. No doubt, Nia would reveal Maluem’s true vocation, even if Maluem succeeded in concealing it. With a great sigh, Maluem nodded her head.
“Yes, one of them did,” Maluem said, after revealing her necklace once more. “The other was mine. You see, I am in the process of becoming a Sorcerer myself. I was released by my master a short time ago to seek and build my Focus Point. This quest is known as the Sorcerer’s Inception, where I come from.”
“Amazing!” Shelia said after a short gasp. “We come all this way south looking for a Mystic, and here is one heading north on the train with us! Are you looking for students right now, Maluem? We would be excellent pupils, I mean Acolytes-”
“Hold on, Shelia,” Torrez interrupted. “We don’t know enough about Maluem yet. She may not be the type of Mystic we need.”
“Yes, I do come from a very backward country after all,” Maluem agreed. “Perhaps you would have better fortunes seeking a teacher in your own country, wherever that is.”
“I apologize for my husband,” Shelia said, shooting Torrez a dark glare. “He meant no offense. He just speaks rather bluntly. You see, Maluem, it is not easy for a Mystic, or Sorcerer, to get training in our country. The only way to get proper instruction is to head south to the…” Shelia paused, obviously searching for a phrase that would not offend. “…less developed nations.”
“In our country, we are called Bocors,” Torrez put in. “It is about the same as being called a Witch Doctor or a head case. It’s even worse than being called a slate! You’ll be lucky if you can find anyone who won’t laugh in your face, let alone teach you anything. But that is where all the real money is, behind the scenes, making things work. Everyone knows it’s the Bocors who keep everything running, but no one wants to admit it. They all want to believe in the purity of science like it’s a religion or something.”
“Well, the point is,” Shelia jumped in at her husband’s pause. “We needed to head south if we wanted to gain any real training. We tried in Enox, but we do not have the backing or the money to get into one of the Mystic Academies. Without some serious help, we are in the same situation here as we were back home.”
“I figured with my training as a mechanic, I could at least find some work fixing buggies and the like. That way, we could slowly earn enough money to get into one of those schools. Some plan that turned out to be. Everyone around here works on their own equipment. Sure, you get a broken engine from time to time. Worn out runes, cracked heads, faulty timing burns, that type of stuff. But the work is so scarce we couldn’t live off the money I earned. If we hadn’t headed north, we would have been starving within a week.”
He punctuated this last statement with a harsh spit on the floor.
“So,” Shelia continued. “We need a master to show us how to cast properly, so we can become Licensed Mystics ourselves. So, what do you think?”
“Hold on,” Torrez said, looking at Maluem with skepticism in his eyes. “Maybe you could cast a spell just to show us what you can do. You know, just to be certain…”
Maluem looked to Nia to gauge her reaction.
“Might you have something to say in all of this?” Maluem asked. “Being that you are more familiar with the shadows of my past, how might you advise your two good friends?”
“Well, if it was up to me,” Nia replied while drawing her jacket tightly about her. “I might have her display a nice little fire spell. That might grab two fish with one swipe, what with proving her ability and preventing us from freezing to death in one casting.”
Her words were entirely correct. The cargo carriage was quite roomy, but it was far from secure from the weather. Many gaps in the walls' planks allowed the cold evening air to pass through the car and passengers with equal ease. Both Entwhistles huddled together, nodding enthusiastically in Maluem’s direction. It seemed anything that might provide a bit of warmth was precisely the type of demonstration they wanted to see. Maluem, on the other hand, saw this as precisely the opportunity she needed to drive these two ferds off.
“Thank you, Nia,” Maluem began, “but I am afraid that I am not adept at thermo-spells-”
Before she could finish the sentence, two things happened in quick succession. First, Maluem felt something under her coat grow slightly warm, followed swiftly by a fleeting blue glow permeating through her greatcoat. This barely had time to register in her mind before there was an audible pop as a small ball of fire materialized in the center of the cargo cart’s floor. It floated about six inches from the wood planks, a perfect sphere, with flames undulating across its white-hot surface. At that moment, it was hard to say who was more impressed by the spectacle, the Entwhistles, or Maluem herself.
“Well, you are the genuine article,” Torrez admitted as he nudged Shelia closer to the floating fireball. “I hope you did not take offense at my doubting you. We jus
t needed to be sure. You understand, can’t be too trusting these days.”
“Yes, well,” Maluem stammered, looking to Nia to see if she had been the source of the spell. From the surprised look on her face, however, Maluem surmised she was not.
“Thank you,” Maluem managed at last. “But I must ask, is it not odd that I have the pendant of my acolyte, but he is not here? Are you not a little curious as to what his fate might have been? For all you know, I may have killed him myself.”
“Now Maluem, I think we discussed this before-” Nia began.
“Please be silent, Nia. I did not ask you. I want these two to answer me,” Maluem cut her off before she got started. “Do you have any idea the dangers that lay ahead of you in the course you have chosen? Have you never heard of how many Acolytes die annually through the mistreatment of their masters? Hideous deaths they are, far too gruesome to recount. Have you considered this? I doubt it, but let us press on.
“As an Acolyte, you will be binding yourself to me. Your store of power will be mine to call on at my whim. Would you gift that to me willingly, even if it may cause your own death? Think hard on that, for what I speak of is no rare occurrence, particularly if the Sorcerer is short on experience. It is not the end I would wish for anyone. It is not quick, I assure you, filled with agonizing pain. Are you prepared to risk this? Do you really trust me this much? For all you know, I might be insane! Contact with Demons has been known to bring about such conditions.”
Maluem looked at the two carefully as she spoke. Torrez’s eyes betrayed very little. Throughout her speech, he had the solid look of a determined man. It was doubtful she could say much that would shake him from his course. Shelia, on the other hand, became quite pale. It was evident to Maluem that she was the weak link. Given enough incentive, Shelia might be swayed to return to a healthier life. This would be, without a doubt, the best course for the pair of them.
“I…I…” Shelia stammered, “I don’t think you would say this if you were the type to…I mean we-”
“We have thought this through completely,” Torrez replied, interrupting his wife’s rambling. “We know the dangers we face.”
“Then you know nothing,” Maluem spat. “You are willing to put your lives in the hands of a woman who failed her previous student when he needed her most. Do you understand that? He is dead because I was not wise enough, was not fast enough, to save him. I was the Sorcerer, not he! I should have known what to do, and I did not. He paid the final price for my incompetence. I will not see another follow in his footsteps, no matter how willing they may be! Now, I will speak no more of this. If you will excuse me, I have meditations to perform.”
Maluem Stood slowly, considering each of their faces as they stared blankly back. Then, taking advantage of their shocked silence, she retreated quickly behind a line of crates. Maluem’s heart was racing as she restrained the tears threatening to spring from her eyes. As overcome as she felt, Maluem was amazed she could keep her voice from cracking during her diatribe. Still, Maluem chided herself for her haste, leaving her possessions behind during her exit. She thought of going back to retrieve the staff and collar, but seeing as they were riding in an enormous speeding beast, she reasoned the two had nowhere to go if they tried to take them. Besides, naïve though they might be, neither had the look of a thief.
What was all that? Maluem wondered to herself as she sat in the shadowed darkness, remembering the words she had spoken but pulses prior. That was not true, was it? Was it really my fault?
Even posed as it was, the question was rhetorical. Maluem’s heart confirmed her words had been correct. Every syllable was as unassailable as the wood under her feet. Unconsciously she thumbed Volo’s pendant as she thought, her memories carrying her back to that terrible day when she watched Master Dominic perish. When he posed his final question to her, she had wanted to yell those very same accusations at him. Now she saw herself as their target.
She had really been that foolish. She had made all the same mistakes she so readily placed at Dominic’s feet. How could she see herself as any better than him? How could she lead others when she had failed so miserably in the past? Alone, Maluem sat and pondered these questions, but no answers flowed from the darkness around her. There was only the earthy stench, the cold, and her tumultuous thoughts to fill the spaces where solutions should have been.
A part of Maluem wanted to focus on the problem of the Entwhistles, on the truth in her own impassioned words, and how she could successfully dissuade the couple from pursuing mystical lessons from Maluem. But these were not topics she could tackle with such a tumultuous mind. With a deep breath, Maluem prepared to shift herself into a more meditative state. She told herself that, should she be successful, she would be in a more lucid state, allowing for a more dispassionate view of the problems at hand. In fact, Maluem knew this would be pure escapism, allowing her to briefly flee the aggravating world around her.
As she sat on the rough wooden floor, breathing in the frigid night air, she struggled to calm the tempest in her skull. Centering her thoughts only on her breathing, Maluem slowly steadied the cycles of her inner system. With each deeper breath, she felt her pulses slowing. With each slowing pulse, her thoughts eased their belligerent movements. The calm she sought gradually grew from within her, taming her raging emotions ever so slowly, until…
“Nice job, Wurncaster.”
“Salutations, Volo,” Maluem said, after an exasperated groan.
“Well, a proper greeting at last! Have you finally decided to recognize my existence? I was beginning to tire of the whole, shut up, you’re dead, routine.”
“I have done no such thing. I have simply decided to relinquish some ground to my own insanity. Fighting off this madness seems to be demanding more energy than I am willing to spend at the moment.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure that made sense to you, if no one else. So, really, why have you decided to talk to me? Not that I’m complaining…”
“Frankly, I need someone to share my thoughts with, to prevent me from slipping deeper into the abyss. Since you are the only soul I have trusted in more years than I care to count, I have no other option.”
“Really? Maluem, that is the nicest thing you have ever said to me-” Volo began.
“Furthermore,” Maluem continued as though Volo had not spoken. “You are the least likely to betray me, seeing as you are already dead.”
“You know, you have a really twisted sense of humor.”
“It has been said. Now, why have you chosen to pester me?”
“Maluem, why did you have to do that to them?”
“By ‘that’ I take it, you mean my speech, and by ‘them,’ I believe you are referring to the collective Entwhistles.”
“You know what I mean and who I mean. Why did you say all that?”
“That was reality, Volo, or do you no longer recognize it? Of course, the irony of that statement is overwhelming considering I said it, and to whom I am currently speaking.”
“Maluem, you don’t actually believe any of those things you told them, do you?”
“And why should I not? Were there any lies among them? You are dead, are you not? I was your master. I did lead you down the path to your demise, and I allowed you to use a crystal with a known critical flaw. I do believe these are uncontestable facts, but please feel free to stop me when my words ring untrue.”
“Well, in that case, I should have stopped you right at the beginning! First, Maluem, I may be your Acolyte, but I am fully capable of choosing my own path. Many of those decisions you are taking responsibility for were mine alone. As you said yourself, you did warn me about that, Crystal. I ignored you. Thus, whatever resulted from its failure was my fault, not yours. Second, when will you get it through that stone-thick skull of yours that I am not dead?”
“I suppose when you manage to do something that only a living entity is capable of. You may choose what that action shall be. Since I obviously will not be getting much sl
eep this night, time is not an issue.”
“What if I tell you something only you and I know?”
“That will not suffice, Volo. You see, since you are merely a projection of my own deranged mind, you already have access to all my memories. Therefore, you would naturally be able to recite verbatim every conversation or event you and I ever discussed or experienced.”
“Well, what if I tell you something that only I know?”
“Then how would I know if it is true? I do have a strong imagination Volo, as your presence clearly demonstrates. I may be making all of this up simply to confuse myself.”
“Kulk, you are twisted!”
“Vulgarity is not proof of life.”
“Look, who do you think cast that plasma ball?”
“I must have created it, subconsciously.”
“Alright, Maluem, that is a lie. You know I am better at thermo-spells than you! I have been working on that one for over a week now. By combining the runes of a force bubble and a plasma cloud, I made a whole new spell. That was a work of art!”
“Yes, I did surprise myself with that one. I must have acquired that combination while I was in the forbidden archives,” Maluem replied after a bit of a pause. “I read a great deal while I was down there. Maybe I had that formula in the back of my mind-”
“Maluem, I cast that spell, and you know it!”
“Do not be ridiculous, Volo. That possibility is patently nonsense. To cast, one must draw on the multitude of spirits within the planet of Azbel. You, if you truly exist at all, are a spirit. Therefore, logically, you would have to be feeding upon your own phantasmal brethren to create a spell. The ethical dilemmas of those notions alone boggle the mind enough to make me ill. Really Volo, and you accuse me of being twisted-”
“That tears it!” Volo screamed. In an instant, his body transformed wholly into a figure of sorcerous flame. Towering far above her, his form flowed from a broad base on the floor to a narrow waist, spreading out once more to define a muscular chest and broad shoulders, crowned with an idealized version of Volo’s head. As he glared down at Maluem, his eyes burned with a blinding fury.