Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  At about this time, in faraway Bolivia, a square-shouldered, grey-haired man sat in a rocking chair by the side of a fireplace and stared into the flames. He was wrapped in a brightly coloured poncho against the chill and was drawing on a pipe. His eyes were slightly glazed as if he were trying to penetrate the gloom and he was nodding to himself periodically, a slight "Hmm" of assent coming from his throat every so often. The nose, hooked and eagle-like dominated the red-tinted face and the dark heavily-browed eyes were a little slanted. As he sat in his reverie, he was reminiscent of a totem pole, solemnly surveying the territory around it. This was Luis Estervan, known to the locals as "The Dreamer."

  After some time, Luis stopped the slow rhythmic rocking of his chair and sighed. He was called on to perform a task for an old friend and knew he could not refuse. He had been expecting the call, but now that it had come, felt old and tired, not relishing the thought of leaving his house and galavanting across the continents to find and aid the new Wandmaster in his task. However, he had little choice; his old friend Wandmaster William Stone had called him. He tapped the long pipe on the inside of the fireplace so that the contents spilled out, and then he set it down and levered himself out of his chair. He would need to sleep early because at first light he would be setting off into the hills. There was something he needed to do before he could organize his trip and he did not relish the thought of the long trek up into the highlands, but he could not risk leaving without at least seeing that all was secure.

  Chapter 6

  In At The Deep End

  William Stone led John back through the crystal wall, and the now familiar landscape, but unlike before, movement was detectable on the hills and on the Plain of Remembrance as they approached the rock face and entered the settlement of the Guardians. John looked on impersonally as figures acted out scenes before him but was unable to experience any emotion about what he saw; neither sadness nor joy, just peace and detachment. He settled himself into the chair in his room, and bid his uncle farewell as their wands separated and he heard the words "The hour has come. Wandblessings on your task. I will be close John." And then he was alone. He was awake, and aware back in the Crystal Realm.

  His serenity was shattered by shouts and sounds of fighting close by, and as he opened his eyes he saw before him a ring of Guardians protecting him in his chair. Their backs were to him, their swords in their hands and there was a tension in the atmosphere which triggered him into activity. He sprang to his feet and yelled, "What is it? What's going on?"

  As one, all the Guardians turned and looked at him with expressions which varied from relief to disbelief, and in one case, what looked like anger. John registered the sentiment but had little time to consider it, other than noting that the Guardian in question was Westroth. John was relieved to see that he appeared to be fully recovered from his 'lo' infection, but was disturbed by something he could sense in the man's countenance. There was a new hardness to his face. From what Jet had said, all the Guardians were charged with John's protection and he sincerely hoped that when things got serious Westroth would be on his side. There was little doubt that Jazlyn was a factor between the two men, but there was more. Ethan was the first to interrupt John's thoughts but his words came with difficulty.

  "You have been away for too long Wandmaster, and we have been overrun. Many of us have been injured, and we have lost three guardians."

  "But I've only been gone a couple of hours!" said John in defence and surprise.

  "A couple of hours?" replied Ethan.

  John remembered that Menoneth had said the time-frame in the two worlds was different, but he hadn't made the mental jump. He was aware that time in his own world was moving much slower, but had not considered the other side of the coin. Here, things had changed dramatically and days seemed to have gone past while he had been making up his mind if he had the stomach to be a hero. 'Damn,' he thought, 'damn my stupidity!'

  He looked around him to see who else he had with him and met Westroth's eyes staring at him with cold severity. Beside him were Maylene and Joceley, a friend of hers, and a tall lean youth called Mandrik who John had sparred with several times.

  "What about Jazlyn?" he asked, "Is she alright?"

  "She is with the Temple division guarding the Crystal Trove and the Elders," said the strong female voice of Maylene. Menoneth, Tyloren and the priests are working with the crystals trying to keep what little power they still have. It faded when you disappeared Wandmaster, and left us unprotected. The Guardians have been fighting the 'lo's' and spindlies with swords, and it was there we lost three good friends. Gilladen is with a third group trying to prevent entry to the healery which is full to overflowing," reported Maylene, who seemed to be clear-headed and cool.

  'spindlies?' thought John 'What new thing is that?'

  He leaped into activity and crossed the room to the door, the wand still in his hand. He noticed that its metallic hue had become clearer and more silvery. Mandrik blocked him at the door and warned,

  "Wandmaster, take care, there is fighting beyond this door, and great danger. Allow us to do our job and lead you out of here."

  "Get me to the Temple then, and quickly!" he yelled.

  Westroth joined Mandrik at the door, Maylene and Joceley flanked him and Ethan placed himself at John's back.

  Westroth opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. Sounds of fighting were in the air but nothing was visible. They moved out into the dim passage keeping their backs to the wall. John was in a hurry, but his Guardians were well-trained and proceeded with caution, looking around them and keeping him encircled. Ahead of them, John saw a Guardian called Yseth, a quiet and unassuming young man, in battle with a very tall, long-legged attacker, too thin to be a man, but a man nonetheless. He was pressing Yseth hard, who was fighting back methodically and smoothly but looking tired. Wes and Mandrik made a move to rush to his assistance, but John heard his own voice command

  "Stand aside!" The two Guardians stopped in their tracks and surveyed John who had the light of battle in his eyes and the wand raised high and pointed at the attacker. They obeyed, allowing their Wandmaster through, and John fixed his eyes on his victim and focused his thoughts.

  "Down beast!" came the words from John's mouth. The wand sent out a punitive streak of red light into the body of the assailant, and the long thin limbs stopped attacking and wrapped around its torso in pain, crumbling to the floor. There was a whimpering sound coming from the mouth, and the arms and legs flailed on the stone slabs as if they were trying to dig a hole in them.

  "Take him and lock him up somewhere," bellowed John to Yseth, and he sped up the remainder of the corridor, Westroth and Mandrik being hard pressed to overtake him and set themselves before him again. "And somebody get me a sword!"

  The Guardians looked around as if a sword might magically appear from somewhere but Westroth shouted back. "Your sword is in your hand. Use it!"

  John didn't reply, but realized that what Westroth was saying was the truth. His wand was much more powerful than any sword and his Guardians had five lengths of steel surrounding him and knew how to use them. He would have to trust to their blades and do the work only he could do. Before reaching the mouth of the tunnel which was the entrance to the living quarters, John had dispatched another six of these spindlies, with increasing ease at each use of the wand, leaving orders to take them prisoner. He had not killed, and knew he was holding back on the power in his wand, and intentionally so; he had no hatred for these skeletal creatures.

  On emerging from the cave-mouth, a scene of total chaos met their eyes. All around the Wandguard plain were tall gangly beings, fighting tirelessly with long thin blades, and being fended off by groups of Guardians. The way across the plain to the Temple of the Wand was blocked by three lo's in a line, one beside the other. John shuddered to think of the people providing the limbs for these hideous bulbous creatures, but the white clown-faces were turned towards him and he had to face them regardless of wh
om their carriers might once have been. The lo's set up a high pitched clicking sound as they spotted John and his wand, and the nearest to him seemed to spur his stolen legs into action, coming at John in an ungainly but determined attack, firing black, foul stinking poison in jets from its mouth. Wes and Mandrik were ahead of John, but would be useless against it John knew, and without a word, he allowed the wand to guide him in its use. His hands came together over his head with the wand pointing upwards and he flowed with its energy. Together he and the wand created a ring, like a large rainbow-coloured wheel, which passed over the heads and under the feet of John and his protectors. John took a step forward and the wheel rolled with him.

  "Get inside the colours!" yelled John to his Guardians, and they obeyed, Wes and Mandrik drawing themselves in close behind John on either side to give him room to work. The wheel was wide enough for three abreast and they now formed two rows. The first lo halted as John's wheel rolled towards it and its insect-like chattering became agitated, and was taken up by the other two lo's immediately behind. John rolled on, straight for them and a jet of putrid black poison hit the wheel of colour, dissolving instantly at the first contact. The lo hesitated and then tried to move out of the range of the rolling wheel of light which steadily came at it. John knew that his wheel was secure; it had established its own connection in his mind and was now independent of the wand, obeying the will of the Wandmaster. He held it and maintained it, leaving the wand free for other work, and started to wield it like a sword. It shot a lightning bolt into the first lo and blankness overcame the paste-white face on its back. John felt the jolt and heard the sucking sound as the bug came off and hit the ground upside down and screeching, leaving a spewing grovelling half woman rolling around on the ground. The horror of her condition moved John, and he wanted to rush to her side and heal her, but the furious clicking and whirring of the other two lo's before him forced him to refocus and move on. He dispatched them in the same way and again struggled with his desire to heal and restore the once-humans who he released from their parasitic hosts, but in the brief glimpse he had of them, he could see they were much more damaged than Wes had been and even as he watched, their writhing ceased and they stilled in death. They would probably never have been whole again. They must have been contaminated for a long period of time.

  The appearance and progress of the wheel of colours across the plain to the Temple had given the Guardians new courage and the fighting was more determined all round. They were beginning to gain control over the large numbers of spindle-legged attackers who, though ferocious, didn't seem to be fighting with any system or leadership. Jet's training was showing and the Guardians had grouped into threes and fours and were working in co-operation to seal off attack groups and contain them.

  John looked to his next task, which was the Temple. He was still contained in his wheel of radiant colours and rolling on the same path he had paced when he had first become confirmed as the Wandmaster. When he reached the spot where he had stood to salute Gilladen and his Guardians, the scene before him was very different. The Temple was dull and flashed an occasional dark red or emitted a discordant note as its walls were assailed by the enemy, but its doors had so far resisted their attempts to gain admittance. The Temple was dying, like a wounded animal, unable to protect itself and slowly allowing the inevitable to creep over it. A weak shimmering in the air above the temple was slowly growing stronger and William Stone, whose absence at John's side had weakened the protective shield over the temple still further, was struggling to reappear. John's rainbow wheel had an immediate effect on all the spindlies gathered around the temple wall and they lost their will to fight, dropping their weapons and looking fearfully around them and at their captains, the 'lo's'. A group of Guardians, freed from the fighting as their comrades gained control, appeared at John's flanks, and Jet was with them. He soon took advantage of the confusion of the remaining attackers and they were forced back and away from the temple doors and the temple itself leaving John a clear path. He allowed his wheel to fade, mentally thanking it for its protecting light and stood facing the temple as he had that day, not so long ago when he had first connected with it.

  "Stand back!" ordered John yet again, and his small group of protectors withdrew from him and took up positions around him facing outwards to be able to keep a lookout in all directions.

  John stood alone now and calmed his mind. He felt the wand pulsing and impatient to work in his hand, but he had something to do first, and when he did connect with the wand and hold it aloft it was with humility and a plea for forgiveness at allowing the assault to happen in his absence. Then he focused on the temple and sourced all the power he had in him through the wand. A joyous ray of white light burst from the tip of the wand and divided into beams which fed their clarity to all the individual peaks of the crystal towers of the Temple of the Wand, and the crystal walls resonated now louder, clearer and musical while the walls and peaks of the crystals appeared cleansed and sparkling like clear water.

  John sent his strength to the Temple, feeling it coming back to life, and found and communicated with the crystal trove inside the temple, re-establishing the joining he had worked on for so long with Tyloren during his training. He felt strong, and was determined to make up for his absence and his part in the near disaster in the Plain of the Wandguard, and simply executed his role, enclosed in calm and serenity which was pure and untainted, clear and loving, and eventually, he felt his need to source to the temple subsiding. His job was done and danger had been averted.

  The doors of the temple flew open as John ceased work and Menoneth appeared at the door with Tyloren, and crowded behind them, other priests and elders. John sought for Jazlyn among the faces, and eventually his heart lifted as a small figure dressed in brown leather and with dark eyes straining to see across the plain darted forward and ran in his direction. He was so relieved to see her in one piece that he didn't immediately notice she was not looking at him, and his smile froze on his lips as she threw herself into the waiting embrace of Westroth standing at his side. He couldn't comprehend why she hadn't missed him the way he had missed her or why she didn't run into his own arms instead of Wes's. She was one of the main reasons he had returned and he was hurt and confused as he tried to assimilate what he was seeing. He had been away longer than he should have, obviously, and he had disappointed Jazlyn and pushed her into the more reliable arms of his biggest rival. Over the top of her head, Westroth stared at John, holding her protectively. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes and a new challenge, which John felt keenly and stored deep within. He wished intensely that he had not gone back to his own life and left Jazlyn and the Realm, but what was done was done so he turned now to Menoneth who was grasping his hand and looking relieved and grateful as he poured out greetings, welcome backs and thanks. John's face was grave as he in turn greeted Menoneth, and was soon surrounded by Tyloren and the other elders and priests. He raised his hands for silence.

  "I ask forgiveness," John's voice was quiet, his eyes downcast as he remembered that three and possibly more guardians had fallen, and wondering which of his comrades had been lost. "I should not have left and I vow now never to leave you again while you have need of me." Menoneth placed a hand on his shoulder and answered,

  "You had to choose, Wandmaster. It is we who should ask forgiveness from you. We demanded more than you were ready or able to grant. You have our gratitude not our anger."

  "Thank you Lord Menoneth but I left you all exposed by putting myself first and have come to see that I am a tool and must do what I can to carry out the task I seem to have been created for."

  "Tyloren had forewarned me of your possible departure, and also that of our protector, Wandmaster William with whom he still speaks through the crystals. But we hadn't bargained for the attack," he said with a troubled frown. "It was almost as if they knew we would be exposed and were poised to take advantage of our weakness, but don't you see, Wandmaster, that you could not have mad
e your decision to aid us without going back? It had to be that way. You are certain now."

  John was surprised that Tyloren and Menoneth had guessed he would leave probably before he himself had decided, and that William had been instrumental in both warning them and in leaving them unprotected. He supposed that Menoneth was right and that things had happened as they should but still heavy-hearted, he turned slowly, wishing to return to his room to rest and recover and found Westroth and Jazlyn still standing behind him, though now unattached. Jazlyn had been listening closely to what John and Menoneth said and was very thoughtfully considering John's obvious regret. His eyes spoke volumes to her as he looked deeply into hers, and unsmilingly walked away, head bowed and steps heavy. He didn't get far before Trevorin caught him and beseeched him to go to the Healery instead of his living quarters. There was much healing to be done and rest and relaxation would have to wait. In the hours that followed, John expended much energy and healed a great many people, thinking all the time about what the situation would have been like there if he hadn't returned to the Crystal Realm, and also what could have been if he hadn't left at all, and his thoughts turned to Jazlyn. He fell onto his bed exhausted that night, as John Stone, Wandmaster, his new identity accepted as a reality. The responsibilities were many and the rewards few.

  "Overworked and underpaid," he muttered into his pillow before falling into a heavy sleep. He dreamed he was waiting for a bus that just wouldn't come and when it eventually appeared, it went sailing past and didn't stop. He saw himself running after the bus shouting "Hey you went without me!" The bus conductress looked exactly like Jazlyn.

  John found himself very busy on his return to Wandguard Plain. He intensified his efforts in the Temple with Tyloren and on the training field with Jet and the guardians. His work in the healery demanded long hours at first, but gradually lessened as he aided Trevorin and the other healers to tend wounds and injuries. John found he got to know many people up close during his time at the healery and the work fulfilled him greatly. Trevorin worked tirelessly also, and though he had no wand, his hands were gifted with healing and between them they soon had things under control. A young woman healer called Althea was often to be found at John's side and she always seemed to know just what he needed. No sooner did he reach for something than it was in his hand, and as they worked together, a relationship grew between them. She was pale, her skin having a lustre of translucency and a clarity which John often admired, and she was fair haired and blue-eyed which gave her an angelic quality. She was shy and avoided his eye whenever possible but had a commitment and an inner strength, which kept her alert through long hours of work. She was always at the healery before John and when he left she was still busily tending to patients. Their conversations had never been about anything other than patients and healing, but slowly Althea began to relax in his company and at the end of a very long day when John was tired and hungry, he paused at the central blue stone on his way out and watched her flitting back and forth between the wards.