Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  After many sessions, Tyloren took John to the Altar and said, "Today you will meet the dark crystal, the one you need to learn about and the one which represents our very existence here, Wandmaster John. Be wary how you respond to its call; you may be affected by it extremely powerfully. You have become a major factor in the balance of things now and you need to retain a grip on your instincts."

  "What should I try to do?" John queried

  "You should not allow yourself to become one with the dark crystal, but you should call into your awareness the qualities of all the different crystals you have come to know, and you should try to balance them so that none has supremacy over the other or over you."

  John had never tried to hold all the qualities of the crystals at once, and he gazed at the Crystal trove as a body, opening to their combined nature. The feeling he had, he couldn't have described, but while all the individuality of the crystals was discernible, unity and wholeness were taking shape inside him. When he felt he had tied in all the strands of power, he looked at the dark crystal, and felt drawn to make contact with it. He placed his hands on the smooth sides of the large smoky-coloured surface. It was almost animal in its feel. It contained fear, strength, aggression, arrogance, impatience, self-preservation, greed, lust, want, and determination. It was all human base reaction. John felt himself being swayed by its power and wanted to be all the things the crystal held in its substance, and it started to hum and vibrate under his hands.

  Tyloren's voice penetrated his concentration saying, "Fight it John. You are the Wandmaster. All stones are you. You are all qualities. Bring order to disorder!"

  John detached from the attraction of the dark crystal and saught the other colours. The white light grew in his mind, in which swam the hues of the various crystals swirling in loops and helixes, joining and separating gracefully and fluidly on the screen of his mind. His heart was uplifted, and he pulled the dark crystal with him to join the dance and add its own qualities to those of the other crystals.

  The vigour and baseness of the dark crystal was, at first, a jagged and unco-ordinated intrusion into the pattern of light, but it was embraced, smoothed, entwined and directed by the flow of the moving exquisiteness until, eventually tamed, it swirled, twisted and then complemented it in an elegant dance. Balance.

  Tyloren's voice seemed very distant to John, but from the depths of the light show, which he was wrapped in, he heard the words "Release, John! Detach yourself!" and reluctantly he forced himself to remove his hands from the dark crystal. The colours faded, the display ended and John felt a loss like grief as he slowly opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. Deep peace pervaded him, however, and a smile spread across his face, as he recalled the beauty and harmony he had touched.

  There was a dark place, deep in the tunnels of the Mountains of Athrak where no light reached. The creatures that existed there knew no warmth, only the cold dank rock, dripping with icy water. They knew no joy, other than that of hunger sated and they heard no voice other than their master's.

  The once-man sat in his stony chair and conjured pictures before him in a ball of dark glass, seeing from afar his handiwork. This world was going to be his. He was growing stronger and his captive army was already in his service, venturing out with his great beast, moving through the towns and outposts gathering more and more. She was strong and would live a thousand years, breeding new servants, the like of which had not been seen before, who took the life force of their hosts and used their limbs to move around and spread terror and havoc. He smiled and the skin on his face glowed luminous blue in the darkness, his eyes gleaming from out their blood-red sockets, his teeth like black pearls framed in the sneer of his warty lips. At the effortless blink of an eye he flicked from scene to scene, his satisfaction growing in him.

  As he conjured, a new image appeared, unbidden before him and a hiss left his mouth at the scene which met his gaze. Wandguard. The plain in the hills where his rivals skulked, hiding behind an impenetrable light haze. This was not good. There was some mischief going on that escaped his penetrating mind, the Guardians of the Wandmaster and the High Priest Tyloren were preparing, always preparing for the next Wandmaster; always meddling and obstructing his plans. The dark glass began to glow and shudder, emitting a high-pitched whine which pulsed as the ball reacted in spasms of light, as if trying to contain an unfamiliar power. He bent his thoughts on the orb and removed the picture from its innards, not allowing the unwelcome intrusion to continue, but just before it fled into the depths of nowhere, he saw an image which disturbed him. A man, young, tall and strong, holding aloft a wand of power and he searched for a clearer view as the image faded in the darkness, wanting to know more and sniffing to sense this new player in the power game. For an instant the face stared full at him and a radiance was all around this man, colours playfully intertwining in his aura, and the knowledge that this Wandmaster weilded a terrible power hit Ataxios full force. His roar of despair and fury shook the dark mountain kingdom to its roots.

  Chapter 4

  Training

  Time passed, and John learned more about his new environment. His dreams were often about his old life, and he seemed to be wandering through it endlessly looking for something, but he wasn't sure exactly what. He woke every morning with the thought that he was still in his own bed at home, only to find that he was, in fact, in the room at Wandguard. His appearance was changing too. He was leaner, his hair was longer and would soon need either cutting or tying, and with the leather and soft fabric he was wearing, he looked dashing, almost like a pirate, he thought as he looked in his mirror. Optically, the change didn't displease him, and he found it easier to accept that this reflection was the Wandmaster, but was he still John Stone?

  He was given complete freedom to come and go as he pleased, though the large meeting hall and the temple entrance were always guarded. Had he wished, he could have mingled with Menoneth and the elders, but instead he spent time with the guardians, getting to know them well. Gilladen had a brother, Westroth, and the three of them became firm friends. Jazlyn was often around, and John had to admit to himself that he was hopelessly smitten with her. He felt her presence acutely, and wanted to speak to her and bring her closer to him in the hope that she would return his feelings, but she was rarely alone and he didn't find the opportunity very often. She was usually with other groups of guardians, two girls, Sharilla and Clareen were frequently to be found at her side, and to his annoyance, male guardians, Ethan, Honeth and sometimes Westroth. He didn't sense any reciprocation by Jazlyn to the other male guardians but Westroth was very keen to be near her, and she appeared to enjoy his company more than John's. It puzzled him that though he could feel she was attracted to him, she avoided him, and he was hurt seeing her so relaxed in the company of other guardians when she was always so flustered near him, finding excuses to quit his company at the first opportunity.

  One morning on his way from the temple back to the living quarters, he heard laughter and loud voices and stopped to watch as some of the Guardians sparred in the training field. To his surprise, in the centre of the ring of onlookers was Jazlyn, and she was facing a much taller and heavier built Guardian called Maylene who he had often noticed as she was an impressively large-framed woman, of a height with most of the men. Unable to resist the spectacle, he approached the group and took up a place in the circle of observers. The two girls were armed with staffs and were circling each other, eyes alert and feet apart for balance and quick response. Maylene made a jab at Jazlyn, who nimbly side-stepped and manoeuvered out of range, whacking her staff into the back of her opponent's knees, and knocking her off her feet. There was a roar from the onlookers and cheers for the smaller girl, and it became obvious that Jazlyn wasn't only his darling, but was a great favourite with many others too. Mostly men. That thought occupied him for a couple of seconds before he was so wrapped up in the sparring that he forgot it just as quickly. Maylene was quick to jump to her feet again, being deceptively a
gile for her bulk and spun quickly round behind Jazlyn to take a swipe in her direction. Only her speed prevented her from being hit soundly in the shoulder by Maylene, and John found he was yelling his encouragement with the rest of the crowd, willing her to victory, and very involved in the contest. His presence did not remain undetected, and nods and smiles were dispatched in his direction as one by one, people became aware of him. The arms master, Jetham, known as 'Jet' to all and sundry, appeared at John's side, a smile on his lips.

  "They're good aren't they?" he queried, without taking his eye off the contest.

  "Yes....Look out right!..... oh, well done!........ yes, they are very good," he replied.

  "How do you think you would do at this kind of sparring, Wandmaster?" asked Jet.

  "Not too well I don't think," laughed John. "I haven't done any competitive training since I was a teenager and then it was just the usual schoolboy stuff like karate and judo, nothing with weapons."

  "I don't know these sports. Are they useful in combat?" queried the arms master.

  "Well yes," answered John, "if you are good at them, but I never took them really seriously enough to reach a...............ooh, that must have hurt!" he interspersed as Jazlyn took and then shook off a blow to the upper arm.

  ".....reach a?..........." prompted Jet

  "Oh yes, sorry, .......reach a high enough level."

  "I would like to see you at a training session one day, Wandmaster. You never know when combat skills will be useful to you, and it would be interesting for me to see your sports."

  "I used to keep myself fairly fit, and I must admit that I feel the need for a bit of exercise these days. I might take you up on that.......Yes!......" he bellowed as Jazlyn managed to floor her opponent and pin her to the ground with her staff wedged under her chin. Maylene was panting and red in the face and both girls were covered in dust and sweat. Jet stepped forward and called

  "Contest over," at which point Jazlyn released Maylene and stood, staff in hand, breathing heavily. John expected to see some kind of friendly hand-shake or at least a grudging smile, but Maylene struggled to her feet and glared at Jazlyn, who returned the look as the two of them brushed themselves clean of the dust which was clinging to their practice garb.

  "I thought this was just sparring," said John to his neighbour, who happened to be Sharilla, one of Jazlyn's friends. "Why are they so angry at each other?"

  Sharilla grinned and answered "There was a bet on this match." John looked at her in surprise.

  "Really?" he aked "What was the bet?"

  "You were," she grinned even wider. He assumed, in a moment of panic that he would have to challenge the winner and wondered if that was why Jet had invited him to train, but before John could clarify the situation any further, Jazlyn and Maylene both presented themselves before him, glaring angrily at him as though he had done something wrong. He felt extremely uncomfortable and shifted on his feet as he realized that none had left the ring and all were watching with great interest and amusement to see what would happen next.

  Feeling he ought to say something, John began "I don't think I could challenge either the winner or the loser of this con.........…," but didn't get to finish his sentence as Jazlyn planted a soft wet kiss on his lips while Maylene's red face deepened in hue and her eyes flashed in fury as she was forced to witness the kiss. A loud cheer erupted from the onlookers and laughter at John's obvious combination of astonishment, pleasure and embarrassment. The two girls turned abruptly and stalked away stiff-backed and in opposite directions. Sharilla appeared to have tears in her eyes, and was having trouble controlling her giggles.

  "You should have seen your face!" she laughed to John, and loped off after Jazlyn leaving him standing alone and flustered. Jet returned to his side and said, somewhat apologetically,

  "I like to keep sparring impersonal, but these two girls had a grudge and I couldn't let it go unexplored. They are trained to accept both defeat and victory with honour, and I hope the problem will pass now and not interfere in their co-operation in the field. They may depend on each other for their lives one day."

  "Yes," said John dreamily, Jazlyn's lips still tingling on his own. He needed to be alone to think and Jet's words were not really making an impression. Oh, Jazlyn!..... and what about Maylene, did that mean....?

  "For their lives?" he abruptly came down to earth.

  "Yes, and yours. Remember, they are your guardians, Wandmaster. All of them would gladly give their lives to save yours. You should not forget that. All of them." he emphasised. "Why don't you join us in practice tomorrow morning? We begin at daybreak."

  "Daybreak? Oh..........ok.......erm.......I don't know if I'll wake up in time."

  "You will be woken and brought to the practice field."

  "Right, then. Tomorrow." John was still not sounding natural and knew it but was doing his best to act as though everything was totally normal. Jet was a wise man, and as John turned to leave, he stopped him with an arm on his sleeve.

  "Caution, Wandmaster. Strength sometimes conceals fragility. Do not damage my female warriors if you can help it." With a wink, he turned and left the field and John followed at a distance, alone, thoughtful and still relishing the kiss and all it suggested.

  Jet turned out to be a demanding trainer and John a willing pupil. His body was stiff and unused to the exercise in the beginning, but the daily repetitions and muscle-building moves soon had him looking like a member of the group. His demonstrations of what he remembered from karate and judo were greeted with amused interest, but Jet said that if he had to get close enough to an opponent to use them, he would rather have a weapon in his hand. So John was introduced to the staff, the slingshot, so long unused in his weapons belt, and after a while a short sword. He still had the balance and timing required in the karate and judo he had learned as a teenager, together with the controlled aggression which both demanded and enjoyed the opportunity to develop new skills. He thought that learning the sword would be a lot like tennis and at first attempted to wield his blade as though covering shots aimed at him, but soon found that there was more to sword-play than keeping your eye on the ball.

  John was tall, naturally strong and agile and with daily training he grew to be fitter and leaner. His skills progressed quickly under the stern eye of Jet and he soon graduated from group training to sparring with some of the other guardians. He was effective with the staff and the sling but his ability with the sword was unquestionably his greatest strength, and Jet expended many hours on improving his technique and setting him against more and more advanced opponents. He found himself going through drills in the privacy of his room in the evening and his thoughts wandered less and less to his old life as the days went past.

  Gilladen, Westroth and Honeth very often made up a foursome with John in the practice ring and swapped partners, testing each other to their limits. John was a gallant loser in the beginning but soon began to stretch the abilities of his friends as his moves grew more fluid and his thrusts more often found their mark. It did not escape John's attention that Jazlyn often watched the contests and he was sure she was more than pleased when he achieved a victory or got in a good thrust. Of course, the practices were performed with wooden swords and no actual damage was done, though a few bad bruises and sprains were healed by the wand at the end of the sparring sessions.

  As John and Wes practiced one day, Jet approached and separated them.

  "You two are not taking it seriously," he reprimanded. "You cross swords like women!" At this, there was a loud jeer from the female guardians watching and Jet grinned. "Not guardians! I said women, not warriors! Let me see you two really mean it!"

  John and Wes smiled at each other, and Wes came closer and said under his breath, "Let's make it interesting, Wandmaster. Winner claims a kiss from Jazlyn?"

  John met his eyes, reading the challenge there and also the intent. Wes was as keen on Jazlyn as he was, that was obvious, and he returned the gaze determinedly.


  "You're on!" he said.

  The two men turned to face Jazlyn and both dropped their heads in a tiny bow in her direction. She flushed scarlet and dropped her gaze as she and the other guardians latched on to the terms of the contest and voices were raised in humour and encouragement for the two opponents. Even Maylene had a smile on her lips at Jazlyn's discomfort. A circle now formed around John and Wes as all other practice halted, and Jet stepped into the centre.

  "Let the contest begin!" he called, and drew back out of range of the swords.

  The two had sparred together several times and had a fair idea of the other's ability. Wes had much more experience than John and floated easily through his moves, drilled to a smoothness that John hadn't yet acquired. John on the other hand, had an unpredictability which came from not having the same amount of training, but having innate ability and intelligence which sometimes made him react to situations in a way which took his opponent off guard.

  They circled each other and Wes went through his moves gracefully, forcing John to parry and defend, moving backwards to stay out of range of the thrusts which interspersed the set pieces. John was under pressure and sweating heavily. He knew he was outclassed, but wanted to win this match more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. Jazlyn's lips were there waiting and he could not let them be awarded to Westroth on any account. He started to attack, leaping forward with an unexpected thrust which almost caught Wes off guard, but training came to the fore and he parried the blade, moving once more into a smooth sequence of steps and arm movements which were highly co-ordinated. John knew that his opponent's confidence was growing as time wore on. It took all his concentration, but John fixed his mind on his training and on the moves Wes was performing, noting his favoured and most natural sequences. He noticed that he had a preference for a three-step swing, thrust, withdraw series which always forced John off balance and into a defensive stance leaving him unable to capitalize on Westroth's switch to a new move. The next time the sequence was used, John leaped backward, leaving Wes to thrust into a void and overbalance. The unexpected variation took him by surprise and his feet lost their sureness on the soil. John was ready, and as Wes toppled forward, he thrust under his guard and hit his sword hand from underneath smartly on the wrist.