The Tower of Sorcery f-1

by James Galloway

  "I'm not letting this impertinent whelp get away with such outrageous disrespect," Ahiriya said in a hot tone.

  "Yes, but if you keep going, he will most definitely cause me to Heal one of you," Dolanna told her in a blunt voice.

  "You wouldn't dare attack a member of the Council!" Ahiriya said in shock, staring at him.

  Tarrin laid back his ears, extended his claws, and growled at her.

  "Oh my," Dolanna breathed, backing away from him.

  If anything convinced Ahiriya that he was serious, that could. She backed up to the door, keeping her eyes on him, then opened it behind her. "We'll talk about this later, Initiate," she promised in an ugly tone. Then she backed through the door and closed it.

  The instant the door was closed, Tarrin's ears rose up to their normal position, and he stood up straight from the crouching stance he assumed. He looked at Dolanna, his face sober, then he gave her a slight smile and winked.

  "You staged that?" she asked in a gasping voice. "Tarrin, what on earth are you doing?"

  "I don't need an audience today, Dolanna," he told her. "I have, I have a problem. I need your help."

  "What is it?"

  "The fight with the Doomwalker, it…injured something inside me. I can't control Sorcery. Every time I touch the Weave, the power just floods into me, and I can't stop it."

  Dolanna looked at him for a moment. "Floods into you? I taught you how to control it, dear one. It is no different."

  "Yes, it is," he replied, sitting down. "The touching still feels the same, but the instant I do, it's like the Weave tries to reach out and grab me. When it does grab me, it tries to flood me with power. I can't resist it, Dolanna. It's way too much for me."

  "I was told you caused your mother's hair to grow out," she said. "That is something that even I cannot do, Tarrin. I would not know where to begin. So you can still use your power."

  He nodded. "But if I hold onto it for more than two heartbeats, the Weave realizes I'm in contact with it, and then it tries to burn me alive. And there's more."

  "What?"

  "I can almost see the Weave now, Dolanna," he told her. "Even without touching it, I can sense it around me. And if I concentrate, I can almost see the strands. Ahiriya touched the Weave when I threatened her. I could feel it."

  Dolanna nodded. "I knew, because I was in touch with the Weave myself," she told him with a rueful smile. "I really thought you meant to attack her."

  "I wanted her out of here," he said bluntly. "The Council will find out in time, but I don't want the pressure of having to explain all of this with her looking over my shoulder. I…I can't talk about things with strangers around. You're the only one in this Tower wearing a shaeram that I trust."

  "I appreciate your trust, dear one, but there are many here worthy of it," she told him gently. "I understand that you and Sevren have a friendship. Could you not trust him?"

  He chuckled ruefully. "Well, he did save my life, so I guess I could. But I don't know him that well."

  "And what of Jula? She stood vigil for you when you were injured, and she has befriended your parents."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because I was there also," she said. "Jula likes you, dear one. She told me that she met you before you entered the Novitiate, in the baths, and you impressed her."

  Tarrin remembered indeed, how she braided his hair, and how she joked about it. She didn't seem like a Sorceress. "Well, maybe," he said. "But we're getting off the point, Dolanna. Can you help me work around this, this problem? Or at least tell me what's wrong?"

  "I will have to understand what the problem is before I can see about finding a solution for it," she told him. "Touch the Weave, dear one, and allow it to respond. I will be here to cut you off if it threatens you."

  He nodded, reaching out. Just as he told her before, touching the Weave was simple for him, where most Initiates spent months mastering the techniques of achieving contact with the Weave. As simple as breathing, he touched the Weave, allowed it to charge him with a small amount of the six flows in even measures. He held it thusly for but a second or two, and then the raging torrent of power found him, and assaulted him. In instants he was being saturated with more power than he could control, and almost more than his body could withstand, and then it was severed away from him. That power dissipated quickly and harmlessly back into the Weave.

  "The Weave reacted to you!" Dolanna said in an awed voice. "I have never seen it act so before!"

  "What do you mean?"

  "When we touch the Weave, it tries to fill us with the same energy it holds itself," she told him. "It is not a great amount, for the Weave is vast, and most of its energy is stored in strands. The energy in a strand is not that great, or we would not have to draw from multiple strands at once to build up the magic necessary to weave spells. But the Weave tried to fill you with more than that. It actively tried to build up the power in you over the level of magical energy that the strands themselves carry. To put in other terms, the Weave tries to fill us with the power of a strand, but when you touched it, you somehow opened a pathway directly to a Conduit, and it tried to fill you with its power."

  A Conduit. "But that's what happened to me," he said in a quiet voice. "The Doomwalker pushed me into the Conduit running through the Heart. That's what caused all the light, because it was all I could do to keep from getting incinerated."

  "Oh, Tarrin," she said in awe. "Tell me what happened. Leave nothing out."

  Step by step, Tarrin recanted his memory of the fight, and being knocked into the Conduit. "I don't remember very much after that," he said helplessly. "The power tried to fry me to ash, and I just had to do something with it to keep from exploding. They tell me I burned the Doomwalker to ash, and it lit up the Conduit and the Ward."

  "No one could survive direct exposure to the Heart," she said in a quiet voice. "But you did, somehow."

  "Why is it called that?"

  "Because that is what it is," she replied. "The Conduit running through the Heart is the largest, most concentrated Conduit known to man. The Tower was built around it so the katzh-dashi could be very close to it. The closer we are to the Heart, the stronger our Sorcery becomes. You have never known anything else, but when you leave the city, leave Sulasia, you will understand. Far away, it takes us longer to build up the energy to weave spells, because those areas are not as rich in magical energy as the Tower. The Heart charges the strands around it with much more magical energy than you will find, say, back in Aldreth. The Heart is literally the heart of our power, and when we are close to it, it makes us stronger."

  "I didn't know that," he said. "So that's what's happening to me? Do you think I somehow was affected by the Conduit?"

  "How could you not?" she said. "I have never heard of anything surviving direct immersion in the Heart. Even mundane objects thrown into the Heart charge with magical power, then explode. But you survived it, and it has affected you. It has opened a link with you, my dear one, a link that fills you with power you cannot hope to control. But there is hope."

  "What? How do we fix it?"

  "I do not think we can," she said, "but I-they-may be able to teach you how to control the link. You cannot control the power, so you must learn how to control the pathway that feeds it to you. If you can learn to choke off that link, it will give you the time you need to use Sorcery without fear of being Consumed."

  "You don't sound to convinced."

  "Because that may be impossible," she sighed. "But it is all I can think of. I will have to take this to the Council. They are more skilled and learned than I, perhaps they can find a better solution."

  "The Council? Dolanna, I-"

  "Hush, dear one," she told him. "This is quite beyond me, and I need guidance. Even if you do not trust the Council, remember that you are a Sorcerer, and that entitles you to their assistance. They will help. They must, it is their duty. Perhaps one of them can help you find a way to control this ability, for I do not think that I
can."

  Tarrin blew out his breath, but had to concede that she was right. He needed help, and if Dolanna couldn't supply it, he had to find it where he could. The way things were now, a single slip could fry him to ash, and that was just too dangerous, considering how easy it was for him to call on the power of the Weave. What he had done for his mother had been totally without thought. He didn't even remember how he did it. But it was the most shining example of exactly why he had to get this under control, and do it very fast. Another thoughtless touch on the Weave could quite possibly lead to his demise, and that was something that he absolutely could not afford.

  "Alright," he sighed. "I've been wondering something for a while, Dolanna."

  "What is it, dear one?"

  "Why do you speak so formally?"

  She laughed. "Because the northern common tongue is not my native one, Tarrin," she said. "I am from Sharadar."

  He stared at her. Sharadar? The almost mythical kingdom on the southern continent that took its name from that nation, a nation of magic, learning, and wonders. "You're from Sharadar? Why are you up here?"

  "Because I am a Sorcerer, dear one," she replied calmly. "Sharadar has its own order of katzh-dashi, in their own Tower. The Heart comes up from the earth here, but it descends into the earth there. There is a Tower and an order of Sorcerers at both ends of it. There are Sharadite Sorcerers here, just as there are northern Sorcerers in Sharadar. Each order is separate, but both answer to the Council and Keeper. Because of that, there are always communications passing between each order."

  Tarrin had never conceived of that. He knew that the world was round, but to imagine something piercing the earth and running all the way through it boggled his mind. "What do the southern Sorcerers do?"

  "The same as the northern ones," she replied. "Study, learn, and find others with our gifts."

  "I never knew about them."

  "There is a bit of, competition, between the two orders, dear one," she said with a smile. "The teachings of the other order of katzh-dashi come later in your Initiate."

  "What happened to them during the Breaking?" he asked suddenly. "Sevren's class didn't cover that."

  "The same as what happened up here, but the southern katzh-dashi were never driven from their Tower. And yet they too simply vanished."

  "But why keep the other order secret?" Tarrin asked. "It doesn't make sense."

  "It is not a secret," she told him, "it is merely something not often discussed. The workings of an order half the world away have little bearing or impact on life here."

  "But they should say something in the Novitiate," he accused.

  "Tarrin, they said nothing about the southern continents, other than references to geography," she reminded him. "And the Tower does like to keep its profile low. Telling Novices there is another Tower spreads information that the katzh-dashi may prefer to keep private. That is why only Initiates learn of the tower in Sharadar."

  "It still seems strange," he said after a moment.

  "Politics usually are, dear one," she chuckled. "But since I dare not try to instruct you, I think we are done for today. I need guidance, and must take this up with the Council at once." She smiled at him. "And I will be sure to tell Ahiriya that your uncertainty and fear over your condition caused your outburst. After she understands the problem, she will probably forgive you your behavior."

  "I really don't care," he snorted. "I'm not here to lick her slippers."

  "That kind of attitude will create trouble for you, dear one," Dolanna warned. "It is not demeaning to give to others the respect that they deserve."

  "When she proves she deserves it, I'll give it to her," he grunted. "Dolanna, thanks. I do feel alot better now. I was really afraid that something was going to happen."

  "We shall see, young one, and you are welcome," she said. "Now, since you cannot practice, I suggest you learn. In the South Tower, there is another library. The real one, which holds the books that the Lorefinders study and the lore of magic and theory that we keep out of the hands of the Novices. Go there, and read. Learn. There is much you can learn by reading, even if you cannot practice."

  "Nobody ever told me about that."

  "And why do you think that is?" she asked pointedly.

  "Oh, because they don't want to contaminate the process of learning how to touch the Weave," he realized.

  "Precisely. But since you already have mastered that task, you cannot be contaminated by reading about the experiences of others. Go there and learn, my dear one. It will do you good."

  "They'll let me in?"

  "Yes. You wear Initiate red, and that is all you will need to gain entrance."

  "I'll do it, Dolanna. Thank you."

  "No thanks are needed, my dear one," she smiled.

  He touched her cheek with his paw, taking in her beauty, realizing again now much the small woman meant to him, then he took his leave of her.

  He didn't like the idea of the Tower meddling in his affairs, but Dolanna was right. He needed to learn how to control whatever happened to him before it killed him, and if that meant allowing people he perceived as enemies to do it, then so be it. Better to take the hand of an enemy then refuse it and jump blindly into death. The Cat was a survivor, and it wouldn't let him refuse a chance to live. It was a survivor, and would not allow his human pride or distrust to interfere with the need to survive.

  Blinking, Keritanima focused her eyes again, following the intricacies of the Weave that Lula was using. She sat on a bench in the garden, for unlike most instructors, Lula was a plump, matronly woman who had the soul of a Druid. She loved the outdoors and the gardens, and she much preferred to bring her students out into the greenery of the garden than keep them cooped up in the small, cramped rooms used for the initial touch. She told the Princess that she felt she had control of her ability, so they spent their days sitting on benches surrounded by the rainbow of color of the gardens. Keritanima had to admit, being in such a soothing environment helped her to learn as Lula started showing her multiflow weaves. The one she was doing right now was a mixture of fire and air, a small ball of yellow light that hovered over her palm. "Can you see how they go together, dear?" she asked. Lula called everyone "dear" or "sweetheart" or "love", even though she knew Keritanima's name. The Brat Princess had made her name, title, and pedigree very plain to the woman quickly, but she just pushed all that aside like it was dust to sweep under the carpet and treated her like a little girl. Neither Keritanima or the Brat quite knew how to take that. The woman was absolutely fearless, and she treated Keritanima like her daughter's best friend rather than an Initiate. The woman was a mystery that the Brat took to immediately, but Keritanima found almost hopelessly puzzling. "Now, by adjusting the flow of fire, we can make the light change color," she said, tweaking the weave hovering over her hand just a bit, making the ball shift from yellow to blue. "Alright dear, now it's your turn."

  Narrowing her eyes, Keritanima touched the Weave and felt the power flow into her. Touching the Weave was something that was easy for her, almost natural, and she was shocked that some Sorcerers took months to master such a simple thing. She drew in fire and air, and them pushed them out into the area over her furred hand. Her amber eyes flickered quickly as they watched the flows begin to intertwine, until a small, dim ball of bluish-green light appeared over her hand. "Not bad dear, but you need a bit more air and less fire," Lula told her. Keritanima's brows lowered as she did as Lula ordered, until the ball grew in size and intensity, and then shifted to a solid sky-blue color. "Very good, dear," she said with a bright smile. "Can you make it change to red?"

  Narrowing her eyes down to slits, she considered the request. It was a test, she was sure of it. She had to increase the flow of fire to go from yellow to blue, but what would require going from blue to red? Well, they were all colors of fire. Yellow fire was hot. Blue fire was actually the hottest, the kind of fire she'd seen in the Royal forges and foundries. But red fire…that had to be the coolest.
The fringes of a fire were always red. Decreasing the flow of fire entering the weave, she watched as it slowly shifted colors from blue to white to yellow to an orange-rust color, and then finally to red. "Very good, dear," she praised. "Now, how would you make it brighter without changing its color?"

  "Increase both flows proportionately?" she asked in reply.

  "Why don't you try it and see," she winked.

  Keritanima did, increasing the energy in both flows, and the effect was striking. The small ball suddenly became almost painfully bright, and also expanded in size. "Very good dear, but remember that working with flows is always a very precise business," Lula told her. "That was too much. You have to go in small steps, dear, small steps."

  Dimming it to a less eye-straining radiance, Keritanima looked at Lula and almost beamed. It was so, wonderful, working with Sorcery. It was hard to stay in character. The Brat would never look to her instructor with such respect and a desire for praise. But then again, Lula had that effect on people. It was probably why they had chosen her to introduce Keritanima to the Weave.

  "I must say," a nasal voice called from behind, "that this is not at all what I expected to see."

  The little ball suddenly exploded in a blinding flash, as Keritanima lost control of the weave. She whirled around on the seat and found herself staring at a rather ridiculous-looking rabbit Wikuni. His head was dominated by the large ears on top of his head, pink nose, whiskers, and a pair of large front teeth. His fur was a whitish gray all over, and a pair of pink eyes stared out from behind a pair of wire-frame spectacles. He wore a plain blue waistcoat with a leather belt holding up a pair of blue pants. A vest covered a white shirt under the waistcoat, into which was tucked the chain of a pocket watch, a technological marvel of the kingdom of Taiga, on the southwestern continent. The expression on the face was plain, almost dull, as if the mind behind those eyes reflected its rather foppish exterior. That couldn't be any further than the truth. Jervis, head spy for his Majesty, Damon Eram, king of Wikuna, was probably the crown's most experienced and competent gatherer of hidden knowledge. Probably one of the best in the world. Jervis used his rather ridiculous appearance as a weapon, which hid his true ability and also his lethal abilities. Jervis often was tasked to eliminate threats to the crown, and that required an assassin's touch. Jervis had that touch.