by P D Ceanneir
The stone circle of tall bluestone Saracens sat in the middle of Carras Isle. It was surrounded by the potential Rawn Masters; young males clad only in a white short silk skirt called a Bort and the females in similar attire but with a strip of silk cloth criss-crossing their breasts, this was to keep most of their flesh exposed to the Fire Element as they stood in a trance.
Eighteen apprentices stood in a circle around the twelve standing stones, readying themselves to meditate. Surrounding them in turn was the entire population of Aln-Tiss sitting on wooden tiered benches. The populace did not usually view the spectacle of the Canndali, but in the past couple of years, it had become something of a growing interest to the locals, and this year was of no exception, mainly because Havoc De Proteous Cromme was participating.
It was widely known that the prince had already mastered the art of Fire; nevertheless, he waited for his younger brother, Magnus, to find his control of the fourth element. Both of them had promised each other that they would perform the Canndali together.
They stood next to each other, quietly chatting, as the others found their positions before the sun peaked in the sky.
‘Bloody hot today,’ mumbled Magnus, ‘and I still feel stupid in this Bort.’
Havoc laughed, it had been a very hot summer and today’s sun made the watching crowd sweat. Even the semi naked apprentices looked hot in the stifling heat, yet the fire that they would envelope themselves in during the trial would make the hot day seem like winter. Havoc knew that the heat of the Canndali Fire was to be ignored as the participants gained emotional control over themselves through meditation, for in humans fire was linked to emotions. To a Pyromancer like the Havoc this intrigued him and filled him with anxiety at the same time.
Magnus fidgeted, though short in stature, he actually looked good in the Bort showing off his muscular physique. In contrast, Havoc’s slim wiry frame also made him look handsome in the silk skirt.
‘What if I don’t reach a trance state?’ Magnus fretted beside him.
‘Don’t worry, be calm, you have done it before. Treat the Canndali as another exercise.’ informed Havoc.
‘That’s alright for you to say that, you’re good at trance states, not me; it’s taken me years to get used to it. Then again you don’t have that damn sword of yours to focus on.’ Magnus referred to SinDex, the Blacksword of Prophecy or the Sword that Rules. Since that night on the bridge when the dreaded Drakken was defeated and the Blacksword’s identity revealed to Magnus, Prince Havoc had divulged his whole story to his brother and father. It did not make Magnus feel any better to know that his brother was a mythical being with Pyromantic powers.
‘I no longer need the Muse Orrinn to help me meditate, Magnus,’ smiled Havoc, ‘after years of using it on my own, I’ve discovered I can reach a trance state by myself quite easily now.’
In the years after his battles against the Vallkytes, known as the Raider Campaign, Havoc found contentment in his life for the first time. The pressures of the Blacksword’s domination had eased now that they both found a balance of mutual respect and need for each other. Moreover, his liberation of his own people gave him much glory and confidence as heir to the Rogun throne. All the same, his need for vengeance burned deeper than any fire that a Pyromancer could conjure, there was still much to do and many enemies to vanquish; the Haplann Truce did not help his situation.
Magnus looked at the smug face of his brother. He marvelled at the change that that face underwent when the persona of the Blacksword took over, it was difficult for him to comprehend that he became someone very different, another person even. He then scanned the circle of apprentices that stood outside the ring of stones, his eyes falling on two lovely females across from them.
‘Who are you staring at?’ Havoc asked.
‘Our Havant curiosities,’ indicated Magnus with a slight nod.
Havoc looked at the female apprentices. Rawn females were rare but not unheard of, and there were four among the group around the stone monoliths, two of which wore the standard white silk attire while the others were coloured in the purple of the all female Havant Order. He had not forgotten that the Havant assassin, Jynn Ri, had tried to kill him and that the Order feared the Blacksword.
Since the truce, the doors of the Rawn Academy were open to all comers from all over the island, just as it had been before the Civil War. Now eight male Vallkytes and the two Havants joined the predominantly Rogun and Jertiani apprentices around the stones. A natural segregation between the Roguns and Vallkytes was easy to spot as they both stayed close to their own people, but as soon as the sun reached its peak above the towering monoliths, all apprentices would be called into the stone circle forcing them all closer.
The caller was Ness Ri, white robed and standing on the central dais of the circle. He looked around as the apprentices slowly moved into position, only a space of three feet separated them on each side. The Vallkyte group looked apprehensively at the Roguns as they moved closer; the tenseness in the air was only aggravated by the fact that the Canndali was due to start.
The sun at its height cast little shadow over the tall granite stones; heat-wave vapours rose from their tips. The short grass felt warm under Havoc’s feet as he moved into the circle, and he now had a clearer view of the two Havants. Both were petite and of the same height tanned, trim and athletic. One was blonde with a thin nose and oval face; her light blue eyes never left the prince’s, while the other furtively glanced at him with her brown, doe-like eyes through her fringe of short mahogany hair. The prince felt his breath come faster. He felt his heart pound in his chest, because both these girls were beautiful in their own way.
The blonde girl nodded slightly at him and he gave her a charming smile, while the other looked between them apprehensively.
‘So that it Prince Havoc,’ said Serena, ‘he is very handsome, isn’t he Tia?’
Tia flinched at her lover’s sultry tone, but the De Proteous did cut a fine figure in his Bort, his long black hair tied back into a prince’s plait and capped in a golden cup at the end. He stared at them with his bright green eyes and a disarming smile. Tia had to catch herself from looking too long at the tall prince and felt an uncharacteristic pang of jealousy at Serena’s remark.
Lord Ness asked for all of the apprentices to stand still and prepare to fall into a trance as he activated the Dragon Lanes, a brief flash of light signalled the circles energy pulse as the Saracens flared with inner light at his touch. Magnus let out a deep sigh beside Havoc, and with the rest of the students, closed his eyes and concentrated on reaching a trance state. This act helped to cushion the energy flux that ran through the fire element as it formed around them. Controlling fire also balanced their emotions and enhanced their ability to use the Rawn Arts. This was why the Canndali was so important and deemed the final test of an apprentice user of the Rawn Arts. If any student did not carry out this trial, then the misalignment of emotions could be dangerous to mental health and, on occasion, lead to madness.
Lord Ness waited as few minutes as he scrutinized the apprentices, he noticed Havoc was the only one with his eyes open, looking around him. The Ri decided not to chastise his student for not following procedure. He knew that the prince had the ability, through the eyes of the Blacksword, to see the invisible emissions of the Dragon Lane energies in a wavy form of yellowy hues that seeped from the ground all around them. As he watched him, he could see the green eyes lose their colour and turn black as he stared into an area of space where the energies shimmered yellow, something that the Ri could not see. Havoc’s gaze caught Lord Ness’s and the dark emotionless eyes of the Blacksword changed back into the bright twinkle of the prince’s. He gave the Ri a knowing wink and then closed his eyes.
Lord Ness produced the fourth element in the form of a Fireball and allowed the invisible energies within the circle to lift it into the air, swirling around the stone circle, caught in the eddies of energy. The heat of the day fed the Fire as it split apart withi
n the currents touching each apprentice and forming into a spiral of thin flame that coiled around him or her from head to toe.
A gasp rose up from the watching crowed. No matter how many of them had seen this phenomenon before it was still a remarkable sight. The helix of flame that surrounded each participant seemed to have a life of its own. Those who did not understand the nuances of the Canndali were amazed at how the Fire did not burn the apprentices or how the flame seemed magically contained within the Circle of Carras.
Sparks of static electricity bridged the gap between bare flesh and flame, none of the apprentices flinched at the sharp pain, contained within their protective trance they concentrated on controlling their emotional state.
The Canndali was not just about the use of Fire; because the fourth element was closely associated with emotions it was imperative to control the mix and flux that was felt when the Canndali was in process. To give in to the emotional turbulence was to change one’s personality, usually for the worst. Lord Ness knew that this was to be a trying time for the De Proteous, because volatile emotions were strong with the Pyromancer.
Havoc felt the sharp pull of emotions and he concentrated hard so his trance did not break. He heard distant screams as apprentices failed this task and were burnt by the Ri’s spiralling fire, they would have to make another attempt at the Canndali next year. Havoc hoped Magnus was not amongst them.
The years of controlling his emotions, and dispersing the more volatile ones so they did not build up into a Pyromantic Surge, aided the prince in this ritual more than he cared to admit. He pushed the Fire away from his exposed flesh, finding a balance with his emotions as he did so. He felt the flame hold in a twisting spiral around him; it was at that moment that the clarity to control the elements became clearer. He laughed to himself and opened his eyes.
He had been so into the trance that he was unaware that he had lifted several inches off the ground. The remaining participants were also floating inside their coils of Fire, Havoc counted ten remaining including all of the females and to his relief, as he turned his head to one side, Magnus also.
He was the only one with his eyes open. The others were concentrating on their trances and balancing their emotions to control the Fire, but Havoc had lifted himself from the trance long ago once he was able to control the flame to such a degree that it burned bright red and coned over his head. He had struggled in the past to summon Fire and once he grasped the concept, over two years ago, he was able to understand it more. Now in the Canndali, with a corkscrew of hot Fire around him, he saw it all more clearly. He was able to control it better and summon it with ease. Not just the fourth element, his understanding of the other three produced a link, or a unity, that each element shared. The four elements were a single unit that merged together to form the essence of the Earth, its life force, the Dragon Lane. As comprehension dawned on him he smiled broadly, this was the knowledge that the Rawn Master spent many years searching for to become a Ri, the fusing of all four elements was extremely difficult. The theory was all well and good, but the practical aspect eluded Havoc, however, he knew he had many years ahead to learn.
Time seemed irrelevant inside the circle, he had no idea how long he held the Fire from his body, but he noticed the others opening their eyes and looking around as the flame caged them. Magnus looked his way and smiled through the fluttering flames.
Ness Ri judged that the remaining apprentices were now competent in the fourth element and he waved his hand dispersing the Fire from the circle. As the individual infernos dissipated, the participants landed gracefully onto the soft grass.
‘Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen, you are now Rawn Masters,’ said the Ri and the crowd stood up and cheered, applauding for long minutes.
‘Well that wasn’t so bad, was it?’ asked Magnus over the noise of the cheering.
‘Told you it would be fine,’ Havoc clapped his brother on the back, ‘did you feel the other elements there, and how to fuse them?’
‘Er...no.’
‘Oh...right.’
The other new masters from the Rogun side congratulated Havoc and Magnus as they left the circle, so too did Lord Ness.
‘Master, Havoc tells me he was able to fuse the other elements into the Fire,’ said Magnus and the remark surprised the Ri.
‘I couldn’t fuse them Magnus,’ corrected Havoc, ‘I could just see that it was possible.’
‘Why didn’t I see it then?’
‘Because, Little One,’ said Lord Ness, ‘the Rawn Arts vary in power with each master,’ he turned to Havoc, ‘if you were able to see the merging, as it is called, my Lord, then you have taken your first steps in becoming a Ri.’
Havoc shrugged, ‘I can already see the Dragon Lanes, the Canndali allowed me to understand that it was made of the four elements, that’s all.’
‘Well you have gone further than most Ri’s at your age, including myself.’
This made Havoc smile and Magnus sulk. The Ri saw the younger mans frown and smiled at him.
‘Do not worry Little One, it will come to you in time, the hard part is now over.’
Chapter 2
The Feast of Scarlet
The bridge leading from Carras Isle to Naval Isle had been repaired since the night of the Trinkets Ball, two and a half year ago, when it was partially destroyed by the Blacksword and Drakken’s epic battle. The Rogun Corps of Engineers spent several months repairing it and had made it even wider and stronger. As a result, the Aln-Tiss populace swarmed over its surface in an organised rush to resume their livelihoods; nevertheless, the onrush of people still blocked the road making the crossing slow going
Havoc and Magnus, now bedecked in their scarlet gowns of the Canndali Post-Acolyte, and instead decided to wait until the mass of bodies thinned; they walked south to the Cromme burial mounds. It had become a tradition for the brothers and their friends to pass by the Paladin’s Vault and honour the dead every time they came to Carras Isle; the visits to the Vault were still disturbing for Havoc. The memory of Sir Verkin’s death haunted him. The confusing episode of events continued echoed in his dreams.
When they passed the family mounds and walked onwards to the Vault, they saw the rest of Havoc’s Paladins. Commanders Powyss, Mad-gellan and Jericho welcomed them as they entered the walled compound to the closed tomb. Majors Whyteman and Velnour both congratulated them on becoming Rawn Masters and Captains Linth, Furran, Mactan, Felcon, Little Kith, Foxe and Hexor all clad in their Raider formal uniforms were already standing at the iron doorway to the Vault. Magnus saw his second in command of the Princes Legion, Sir Colby, standing with Dolment, the Master of Ifor; he wandered over to them leaving Havoc and his Paladins alone with their thoughts.
‘He was the best of us,’ said Velnour, who was closest in friendship to Verkin than the rest and felt his loss the most. Havoc, standing next to him looking at the brass plaque that was fixed to a stone column to one side of the entrance, just nodded. On the plaque was inscribed the names of Ethyn, Brynd and Verkin. He had told his friends very little details of that night, only that Sir Verkin died bravely as he fought the Drakken, like Sir Brynd did, dying several days later from his wounds. If the others knew that Verkin, at the moment of being mortally wounded by the Drakken, used a Pyromantic Surge to kill the beast, then more questions would be asked, questions that Havoc could not, did not, want to answer, at least, until he had more information about his condition.
‘Gunach’s sons have finished the arch, boss,’ said Foxe, ‘they are going to put it up sometime this week.’
‘That’s good,’ nodded the prince, ‘tell them I’ll send more Fire Wine.’ He heard his friend’s chuckle behind them. Gunach the Master Smith of the Dwarves had left a year ago to return to his homeland of the Vale, he had sent back his two oldest sons and five other smiths to make armour and weapons for the Raiders and Rogan armies. He had asked the Dwarves to make an elaborate iron arch for the entrance to the Vault grounds. They had been eage
r to please, and it was about this time that they got a taste of the Haplann Fire Wine which made them more cheery than usual. He missed Gunach and his smiling eyes, his wisdom and dry humour; his small friend was one of the few people who know he was the Blacksword and was a topic Gunach rarely mentioned.
There was a minor commotion behind them and Powyss tapped the prince’s shoulder.
‘Tell me you did not invite them?’ he asked with a growl.
Havoc turned and, as the others parted behind him, he saw the two Havant’s stroll through the Vault gates wearing their purple robes.
‘What in the name of the gods are they doing here?’ hissed Jericho.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ Havoc sighed and walked towards the girls. As he drew closer he saw the blonde one fix him a long appraising look and gave him a small smile while the other remained introvert and hid behind her long fringe, the prince found her coyness endearing.
‘Ladies, may I congratulate you on passing the Canndali?’ he said to them smoothly, ‘I hope you have enjoyed your stay in the Rogun capital?’
The blonde girl gave him a slight curtsy and the other one followed suit.
‘We have your highness; may I congratulate you also and introduce ourselves?’
‘Of course,’ both females looked not much older than he did and he had to remind himself of the potential power that a female Rawn was capable of, being far stronger in the Arts than a male.
‘I am Serena of the Wyani Kindred and this is Tia, a distant cousin of my tribe from the Tarridun Mountains.’
Havoc bowed, ‘you are most welcome,’ he realised that Serena was the more dominant of the two. ‘The Wyani Kindred, is that not the highest nobility of your people?’
‘You have been doing your homework, my lord. Yes, my father is the chieftain of the Kindred, Lord Mortianer.’