Quest of the Wizardess

by Guy Antibes

  What instrument of power did Ned give her? She realized the painted face that surprised her by the water heard her playing and that might have preserved her life.

  She played all of the songs for the savages. As she did so, a new set of visions sprang up from each song. A chronicle of the gods and their people played itself across her mind. One of the songs showed her that the god’s language was also on the writing on the border of the parchment map and that it could be pronounced in words and in song.

  Two days after eating and drinking, Bellia felt well enough to walk back to the temple. She had to drag two bodies from the temple to the ground below. The bodies of her party now lay in state in front of the courtyard. The savages had begun to clear off the millennia of dirt, roots and vines from the bottom steps.

  A pathway a couple of paces wide now led from the jungle to the steps. Bellia saw the cracked stone pavement below, sat underneath three feet of jungle dirt. She returned to the top of the steps. The ghosts wouldn’t go any further than halfway. She felt weakened as she neared the top and reached out and used the bank of dirt to steady herself.

  Bellia turned and looked down at the savages. They stayed in the courtyard as she made her way up. They all waved, trilling as they did.

  Blood stained the stone floor. Bellia’s eyes went from statue to statue and in her mind’s eye saw them as they sat on golden thrones where their stone images now stood.

  The parchment burned into her mind. There was something written that resonated with Bellia. What was it? She looked at the chest and how it resisted every attempt to open.

  Then she figured it out. The notes. All of her partner’s packs were lined up at the side of the temple floor. She would play the song that was written on Menna’s map. She pulled out her flute and showed it to the savages now sitting on the dirt far below.

  Music filled the dome and filled the courtyard. The tune only lasted a moment. No visions or pictures, just the overwhelming feeling of promise, of hope, of a golden future. Bellia looked out at stunned savages. A silence filled the courtyard. All eyes looked up at Bellia. A click. A small sound made by a handle popping out on the chest. Yet the sound was like bells ringing on a temple holiday.

  She knelt, twisted the handle and lifted the top. The treasure of the Helevat filled the chest to the brim. No gold or silver, only cut gems, all larger than a hen’s egg. Each gem must have been worth enough for a good slice of any kingdom on Gleanere. This was no king’s ransom. This was a god’s ransom. She picked up a diamond and held up as it split the sun’s rays into a million shards and turned to show it to the crowd below.

  She expected cheers to rise up the hundred steps in jubilation, but the expectancy of something great and wonderful remained coursing its way through the savages. What else could they want? On the other side of the chest, the little case with it’s metal leaves lay on one of Yezza’s folded scarves. Is this what they wanted to see? Bellia shrugged and lifted the little chest up. As she pushed it above his head the savages rose in waves and cheered.

  No gems for a simple people. What she held in his hand was the real promise the flute spoke of. Knowledge and whatever else filled the little pages of script. More songs she wondered? She looked down at the savages and thought,we will find out together.

  The savages began to disappear into the jungle. Now Bellia knew that their village lay close at hand. She put the little chest down and walked back over to the row of packs. At the end all of the weapons sat piled up. She spied her short sword and slid it from the pile. It felt a little odd in her left hand. Would she ever have the strength of grip to use it in a fight again?

  She shuddered, dropping the blade. Bellia ignored the clatter, as she looked at her deformed hand. The magic that made the blade, the magic that allowed her to transport herself into the House was gone—hacked off by Menna. No longer could she punch the eight-fingered codes of the transport spell. Always. Always the possibility of a return to the House gave her an identity. It was true that she ran away. Her father lived magic and died magic. Bellia looked for other things in life as she grew up, but still wizardry was ground into her bones.

  She looked at her hand--a cripple. The loss of one finger would have disfigured her badly enough, but two. She felt like a swordsman who had lost both of her arms, perhaps a very rich armless swordsman. Bellia looked at the jewels and ran her right hand through the gems.

  What did these bring her? Wealth? She’d never known real wealth, although she never lacked at the House. Once she left, she lived the ordinary life of a smithy and a soldier. The surroundings at the Temple of the Blind God were sublime, but her cell was austere and everyone wore a robe over their clothes.

  She looked out at the wall of jungle directly in front of her face. West, she thought. West to Rullon. West to Grianna. She didn’t need fingers to continue her quest.

  The old man stood by himself at the bottom of the stairs. She took the little chest and tucked her flute into her shirt and wondered how she could repay the man for repairing her hand and saving her life.

  At the bottom of the stairs she saw the four bodies in a row. She thought a pyre would be best in the jungle. The older man walked up and gestured to the chest. She thought a reluctance to let the old man have it, but what, if anything was really hers? Bellia placed it in his hands and smiled back at his radiant expression.

  She made signs of putting her friend’s bodies together and flame motions. The old man’s eyes brightened when he caught on. He whistled and a number of the savages appeared from the jungle’s edge. Trills and wordless songs were exchanged and soon the bodies lay atop a pile of dry branches.

  Bellia was at a loss of words. Romo, Yezza with her tokens flashing around her neck, her man, and last of all Menna. Traveling friends, but in the end, all were consumed by greed. Bellia pulled out her two spell books and looked at her hand. They were useless now and that brought a frown to her face. She tossed them on the pyre. The wizard part of her life had just ended. Bellia would never be able to get up to the House again and the thought only added to her melancholy.

  A savage gave Bellia a torch. Without ceremony she shoved it deep into the thicket of wood and stood back as the pyre caught fire and flames licked the sky. Smoke billowed up in dark waves. Bellia stood until the pyre sat as a mound of gray ashes and coals, glowing dimly in the twilight. Another part of her life had been seared away. She turned and, all by herself, disappeared into the welcoming arms of the jungle.

  ~~~

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Magic of Music

  ~

  Precious pages were spread out on the table, fifty of them, about the size of her hand. They weren’t made out of gold, after all, but a strange shiny yellow-gray metal. The pages were thin and the writing was in something thicker than ink. She picked one up and looked at the writing on one side and noticed music on the other.

  She looked at the old man and decided to call him Trill. She pointed to herself and said “Bellia” and then pointed to the old man and touched him with her forefinger. “Trill”

  He repeated it about five times then pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows.

  “Bellia” The old man said, his eyes wrinkling. He smiled wryly and pointed to himself. “Trill.”

  Bellia thought it was a great start. He nodded. “Good.” Smiling.

  Trill made a gargling sound Bellia had heard and thought it punctuation. She tried to duplicate it. They both laughed.This will make children out of both of us, she thought.

  Trill and Bellia sat at the table. Trill didn’t know what to do with the pages. She read the first page. It spoke of a war between the gods. All of the names were unfamiliar. One of the gods created wizards to become an army to defeat the others.

  Could this be the legend of the wizard wars some three or four thousand years ago? The timing might be right.

  The other gods put strictures on wizardry and constrained the wizards by restructuring how men could invoke the forces of na
ture.

  Could this be codework? It had to be. Bellia never imagined magic working in any other way. She thought the flute to be enchanted, but what if it was just another kind of tool to harness magic?

  She read on. The few gods that survived the war were banished from Gleanere, leaving their servants, called the Reverents, bereft of their light, but promised one day to return should they, the Reverents, be faithful. The pages didn’t say where the gods vanished or when they would return and under what circumstances. What followed shook Bellia from head to toe. The leaves instructed the reader how to perform the old magic without magical codework. She had to stop because she had lost her breath.

  Bellia looked at the two stumps on her hand. Could she hope that there might be a way back into wizardry? Not that she desired to be a wizard, but suddenly she yearned to return to the House.

  It was time to play the flute and see if Trill understood this book.

  She played the first page and then the second. By the time she was into the third, the savages pulled her outside and made her stand on a platform so all of them could hear. Trill brought out the first two pages. Bellia was to start all over again.

  The performance took over an hour. When she started all of the savages stood, by the time she stopped all of them sat. More leaves remained, but music wasn’t on them. Bellia flipped over the first page without music and it was the first page of the magical instructions.

  Trill bent low in front of Bellia. Trill rose and sang to his people. The savages knew something and Bellia didn’t have any idea what it was.

  Bellia jumped down from the platform and took the pages back to her stone house. Trill walked in with a pot of the blue goop for her hand.

  As he slathered the goop on, he looked at Bellia and, in the language of the writings said the word, “Reberrants” pointing to himself and waving his hand at the people outside. These were the remnants of the Reverants of the Gods. Those who they served deserted them for thousands of years. Their culture plummeted into becoming ghosts with carved bone claws to scare men from the Temple of Helevat.

  In all of those years, only Menna’s expedition had made it. Bellia touched the flute in her shirt. Ned knew somehow. Was he a Reberrant? He was much too tall and didn’t look anything like this people. Could this flute have belonged to a god? She pulled it out and gazed at the cold black stone and golden mouthpiece. She looked closely at the gold. It wasn’t gold, but made out of the same yellow-gray metal as the book.

  She shivered. Did Ned know the gods? Could he have come to Tuathua with the Blind God in the first place? Wully had said as much. It didn’t seem possible, yet here Bellia sat with a flute and a book made out of materials that produced a kind of magic unknown on Gleanere. The music of the book played the history of the Reberrants.

  Bellia needed to learn their language and they needed to learn hers. Not the language of the parchment, but the language of today. She thought of the healer in Palubat and would teach the Reberrants the language of the Eustian Inner Sea, the language of Togolath and Grianna. It was universal enough.

  Bellia pointed at herself. “I teach you my language, Trill. You teach me your language.” She sang some notes. Trill nodded.

  For the next two months, Bellia was both teacher and student. Trill began to teach Bellia the Reberrant’s language, but eventually brought in a younger man who excelled in learning Bellia’s speech, to teach her the singing language.

  The new man called himself Ulu. That was as close as she could pronounce his singing name in the spoken language. Bellia and Ulu took off for days at a time into the woods.

  Ulu took her to the deposit of lime that the Reberrants used to paint their faces. Bellia leaned over to put some on her face.

  “No. Not for gods,” Ulu said with the spoken language.

  “I’m not a god.” Bellia sang to Ulu. But Ulu took Bellia’s wrist and shook his head.

  “You are to us. You are our salvation from our time in darkness and waiting,” Ulu sang.

  “I am a Reberrant in my own way. I know not when the gods will return, I only seek after knowledge and light along my path.” Bellia didn’t know if she believed that, but she had to say something to express the utter humility she felt.

  Although she stood a foot and a half taller than him, Bellia thought of herself as the child. The Reberrants were humble and respected each other. Within her heart, she appreciated the emotions that working with god’s forgotten servants had surfaced for the first time in her life.

  They returned. Bellia sat with Ulu and Trill and Trill’s wife. “It is time I left, Trill.” Bellia sang. “My destiny is far from here. I need to travel to reach it.”

  “I know, my daughter.” Trill spoke. “I have sensed that the strings that bind you to us need to stretch.”

  “I will leave all of the treasure here except for the book pages with no music.”

  “We have no need of jewels. We still desire our privacy and will keep out intruders as we have for all of this time. But we will now prepare the Temple for the gods’ return. We can again walk the steps and ascend to where the gods ruled.”

  “I will take some gems with me then. Perhaps I can put them to good use.” An idea shot through Bellia’s head. She pulled the flute from her shirt. “I will trade you this for the jewels.” A trade made her feel less like a treasure hunter.

  Trill’s eyes watered. “An instrument from the gods. Dare we play it?”

  “It’s only on loan. The one who gave it to me likely left here with it. If he returns, you will give it back? His name is Ned. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “No.” Trill put his hand to his forehead in thought. “We even lost the names of the gods long ago.”

  “I’ll also leave his music. He prepared it himself. He lost a wife and baby when the gods left. Perhaps it happened in the wizard’s war. It is the music I played for you the day I woke. May it’s magic work for you as it did for me. If it doesn’t, keep it as a relic for the gods to play when they return or if, by chance I visit you again, permit me to play it once more.”

  Bellia handed it over to Trill. “You will play us the songs on the flute before you leave?” Trill said, looking hopeful. I fear we will not be able to make the magic in the flute work.

  “Of course,” Bellia sang. “I have one other request.” He looked at Ulu. “I wish for Ulu to travel with me. I shall need another person to help me with my supplies and with what wealth of the gods I take.”

  “I would be honored for you to take my oldest son with you on your travels.” Trill nodded.

  Ulu beamed. Bellia and Ulu had hoped Trill would let him leave the plateau that held the Temple of Helevat.

  Bellia took Ulu to the pile of weapons left by his party.

  “I like this one.” Ulu held one of the two blades of Yezza. Since the Reberrant were short, the Pock sword of Menna weighed too much. The lighter curved blade of the Middab suited the speed and conditioning of Ulu.

  “What do you do with the weapons of those who sought the temple?” Bellia sang.

  “We bury the weapons with the intruders in the lower jungle. Our old lore denied us metal weapons after the god’s fought.”

  There must have been some reason, but Bellia realized the Reberrants were still only a shadow of the people who served the gods.

  The day before Ulu and she were to leave, Bellia again stood on the platform and played Ned’s music and the song of the gods, the lost history of the Reberrants. Bellia’s eyes were filled with tears as she finished, for this time she knew how to translate the music into knowledge and images. The visions of the gods had been played out in detail. She played their names and, with her own voice sang of the saga of the rule of the gods, the wizard wars and the gods’ departure. She felt humbled to have given these poor creatures their legacy.

  Ulu stood, dressed in the extra clothes of Yezza’s guard. Even those had to be cut down. Ulu’s feet fit Yezza’s boots. Bellia had to admit, Ulu looked a little comical
, but that would change as they headed north.

  As Bellia put the netting into the packs, Trill walked up with an armful of tiny clay pots with stoppers. “This is for cuts, like on your hand. It helps heal and takes away the pain. The yellow pot is used very sparingly but will repel all insects. The powders in this pot will relieve pain inside the body. And this black pot contains a stomach powder. A pinch in a gourd of water will soothe your insides.” Trill sang away as he gave the pots and Bellia tucked them away.

  “You will teach other Reberrants the spoken language?”

  “I will,” he spoke.

  Bellia hid jewels in various places in the packs so that anyone searching them would not find anything out of the ordinary. The treasure chest only lost a fraction of its contents.

  Ulu hugged his parents and siblings. A young pregnant woman came up and fiercely put her arms around him.

  “Your girlfriend?” Bellia spoke, still not fully familiar with Reberrant customs.

  “My wife. She bears our first child.”

  “I can’t take you away from this. You didn’t tell me.” Bellia spoke so quickly, she didn’t know if Ulu understood.

  “It is I who wish to go. I feel I am pushed by the gods.” Both Ulu and his wife nodded. She pushed him away from her, towards Bellia.

  Bellia knew a nudge when she felt one, Ulu should be entitled to a nudge of his own. Bellia put her arms around the woman, who struggled a bit in her grasp. “I promise to do all I can to bring back your husband,” she sang softly in her ear. As Bellia sang, she felt her internal struggles of taking a man away from his pregnant wife cease.

  It was time to leave the plateau. West was on the other side of the Temple. As they emerged from the jungle, Bellia looked at the Temple from the back side. She didn’t know what she left behind other than two fingers and her erstwhile friends, but she was sure her past was different from the future she faced. They walked around the edifice and made their way to the cliff. Ulu knew a path down to the jungle below.