Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  The colours took him; he couldn't have described it in any other way. He was wrapped in their stream as they whirled around behind his eyes and played in elegant swoops and dives, chasing along pathways into distant depths, sometimes to return, and other times to be replaced by new combinations producing fresh patterns and blending into innumerable shades, some of which he could not have named. He felt at peace and allowed himself to be swept into the movement, joining the various strands as though he were creating them and bathing in them. He swam the colour rivers, experiencing a freedom and joy which were incomparable, and submitted himself to the process. These were his own colours; not the crystals in the Temple acting on him, but John Stone's colours. And he knew that he was whole, both parts of his existence were what made him who he was, and he was free to be whatever his instinct told him, to do whatever he felt to be right and good. From here on he would be guided by what gave him a reason to live and to be. He would use his qualities against Ataxios and he would win. He knew that now. It was right; it was his fate and he would achieve it somehow. He felt unafraid. All was well; all was serenity; all was purity; all was beauty; all was good. He was being swept along in untroubled timelessness, and felt no desire to be anywhere else, doing anything other than feel the great love surrounding him and soothing him. He did not know how long he was in that state, but at some point he felt himself back in his chair again, in his body, and the colours one by one bid him farewell and departed, leaving him smiling gently to himself and feeling relaxed and happy. On opening his eyes, he felt the touch of disappointment at the dull ordinariness of his surroundings and sighed deeply at the disappearance of the colours, but he felt charged by their strength and exquisiteness and pondered that if nothing else good ever happened to him again in either of his dual worlds, he had lived something so fulfilling, that it would always make him feel privileged; and even if he were to die, he would not feel cheated.

  He rose and stretched, letting out a long roar of contentment as he reached his arms high above his head, and it was thus that Jazlyn saw him as she opened the door to his room. He paused, mouth wide, arms raised to the ceiling and grinned widely, not a bit embarrassed. Now here, he thought, was something he really wanted, which felt right and good.

  "Didn't your mother teach you to knock before entering, young lady?" he inquired, and continued his stretch, still grinning, but keeping his eyes pinned on Jazlyn's amused and, it had to be said, appreciative face.

  "I have been knocking, for quite some time," she countered "it's not my fault if you're deaf!"

  John laughed now, thinking that he probably wouldn't have heard a bomb blast while he had been wrapped in his colours, and because he was feeling playful, retorted,

  "Well, at least I'm only deaf and not blind and stupid like you!" Jazlyn's mouth pouted and her forehead frowned at this new Wandmaster teasing her, and answered.

  "And how do you come to the conclusion that I'm blind and stupid?" John looked straight at her and said, "Because you can't see how crazy I am about you." His face softened and his smile became more serious. He dropped his arms to his sides and stood, simply a man making a confession of love. Jazlyn was speechless and motionless, her face a picture of confusion, and in two giant steps, John reached her and swept her into an embrace, kissing her with such tenderness that his colours made a reappearance and wrapped the two of them in ribbons of swirling pinks and greens that made both their hearts ache. When the kiss ended, John still held her, and she did not resist as he stroked her hair and pulled her head onto his shoulder, humming one of his favourite tunes and dancing with her on the spot. John had never seen anyone dancing in the Realm, but Jazlyn's feet rocked in time with his as they held each other, and though he had never been much of a dancer himself, things were so right that he felt like they were floating on a cloud, and that his feet were all lightness and ease. Jazlyn was in his arms and her mind was telling him she was happy to be there. She liked him – possibly much more than liked.

  "Very pretty," said a voice in the doorway, and for the second time that day, an unannounced visitor entered the room. Vilma was standing with her arms folded and her head tilted on one side watching them. One eyebrow was raised and there was a twitch of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Jazlyn came to herself and jumped, still held within the circle of John's arms exclaiming,

  "Maneera!"

  "They sent me to fetch you two. It's a good thing I came when I did, otherwise who knows what I would have found when I opened the door! Now, come on. Put each other down and compose yourselves. Menoneth is waiting for us."

  "Oh yes," said Jazlyn "I forgot. I came to take you to the Council Hall," she said looking at John. Unable to be serious, he replied,

  "Oh, I expect you would have remembered sooner or later.............. even though you're blind and stupid."

  John and Jazlyn both laughed, a shared joke to which Vilma was an outsider, but the older woman considered the two young people before her very thoughtfully and made a mental note to consult her runes again that evening.

  Chapter 12

  The Council

  John's mood was evident on his face as he entered the Council Room, the light of contentment shining in his eyes. He was surprised to find the large hall so empty; this was not to be a full Council Meeting, but a smaller gathering, and the company was seated at the head of the table. Present were Menoneth, Jet, Westroth, Gilladen, Trevorin and Tabbareth. John, Jazlyn and Vilma made up the number to nine and were directed to sit in a tight group around Menoneth's leadership.

  "I am pleased to see you looking so well, Wandmaster," said Menoneth, whose own expression was anything but contented.

  "Never better!" replied John briskly, beaming. He felt waves of jealousy emanating from Westroth's chair, but did not turn his eyes in that direction, choosing simply to register the feelings and put them aside for further thought later.

  "I have called you here to discuss certain matters which are of a sensitive nature and I must make it clear to you all that what is said within this room is of the utmost secrecy. You must not discuss any of the content of our deliberations with any person who is not now present, and if you do talk about these matters among yourselves, I would entreat you to do so in a secure place away from inquisitive ears." Menoneth paused, and looked from face to face. All nodded and some voiced agreement in low voices. John was coming down to earth slowly and the gravity of Menoneth's bearing began to work on him too.

  "Wandmaster, this mainly concerns you; and as such I would ask you to listen and consider very carefully, and reserve judgement till you have heard what I have to say and, indeed what everyone here has to say." Menoneth's eyes held John's waiting for agreement, and John slowly nodded.

  "Of course, Lord Menoneth. I will contain myself, though I must admit to a great deal of curiosity," responded John.

  "I hope, by the end of this small gathering, some questions, which you have showed admirable restraint in not asking, will be answered." Menoneth shot a look at Westroth, here who was staring sullenly down at his hands on the table.

  Menoneth took a deep breath and commenced. "A question of loyalty has arisen with regard to my son, Westroth, and it is based on many underlying problems, some of which have been created by my own failings as a father, which I regret, but can only say were unintentional on my part and due to commitments which kept me from being the parent I should have been to my children." Menoneth's voice shook here and he took a deep breath before continuing. "However, it is also based on the shared affections of both you, Wandmaster, and my son for the same young lady." Here Menoneth looked at Jazlyn and she coloured and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "This situation must be resolved, here and now because it is putting the security of Wandguard and all who live in it, at risk. The personal side is, of course, highly sensitive, and the young people involved must declare their wishes in this matter, but a more immediate question is the continued presence of my son in the company of Guardians, or his punishment if he
is judged to be at fault."

  After pausing for a moment or two, Menoneth continued. "I am going to call on all of you to speak on the subject of my son Westroth. Suggestions will be put forward which I would like you all to consider, and which I feel unable to take a decision on as I am too personally involved. Inevitably, it will be my task to officially agree or disagree to any course of action which is decided upon today, but the Wandmaster's views have much weight and I would like to hear them when he has listened to what all here present are going to say. Jetham, I would like to begin with you. Will you please address our meeting?" Jet nodded, and began in a steady voice,

  "I am reluctant to state my thoughts on this subject, but as I am called upon to do so, I will give my position on what I have authority over, that is, the security of my Guardians and my Wandmaster, and I ask that all present receive my words with respect to the objectivity I will try to impart to them." Jet shot a look at Westroth and then at John before continuing.

  "There is one fact which is inescapable. The attack on my group of Guardians, in which the Wandmaster was present, was not a co-incidence. By some means, the spindlies were alerted to our presence and made a determined attempt to capture or destroy us all, and the Wandmaster in particular. I have considered long and hard on this subject and have to say that I find myself of the conclusion that we were betrayed. Both Tyloren and Westroth were missing at the time and it is not possible to draw conclusions in Tyloren's continued absence, unless anyone here can throw any light on that?" At this point, Jet paused and waited for a response. None was forthcoming. John, Tabbareth and Vilma kept their silence.

  "I have known Tyloren all my life and have always found him to be totally devoted to the Temple, the Crystal Trove and the aims of Wandguard, in other words, the cleansing of the Crystal Trove at Athrak and the reinstatement of balance in the Realm. I fail to see what he would have to gain from exposing the Wandmaster to danger. On the other hand, Westroth has shown, on occasions, feelings of hositility towards the Wandmaster, and, though I have difficulty in expressing negative comments about any of my guardians, my suspicions rest firmly with him. My opinion is that, for the security of Wandguard and the Wandmaster in particular, Westroth should be relieved of his duties and kept in detention." Having no more to say, Jet fell silent and met no-one's eyes, even when Westroth gave an ironic breathy laugh, and nodded to himself.

  "Thank-you, Jetham, I appreciate your brevity and candour." said Menoneth heavily, and called next on Trevorin.

  The healer's face was troubled, but he, in turn spoke.

  "I am a healer and know nothing of the events in Deepcleft other than what I heard from my patients, so I have nothing to say on the matter of whether the attack happened by co-incidence or because there was a leak of information. My own contribution to this meeting is limited. I must also, though, endorse what Jet has said about Tyloren. In my humble opinion, the man is above suspicion. Westroth I have known since he was a young trainee here in the plain, and have often healed the knocks and bruises which were the result of his enthusiastic participation in arms practice, and before that, the result of boyish disregard for safety in games of dare with his fellow-guardians." He paused here and addressed Wes directly and with a warmth in his tone which was moving. "I have lost count, in fact, of the number of times I had to patch you up, Wes." Westroth did not respond, and stared woodenly over Trevorin's head at the wall on the far side of the room. Trevorin continued, "It must be said, though that Westroth was, for a time, in the 'lo' state, and that I have observed in him many worrying changes since he recovered. I will put it simply and say, he is no longer the same man in many ways, and that he needs to work very hard to find his true self, which for a time was taken from him. The blood of the 'lo' which joined with his own and coursed through his veins for the day or two before he was separated by the Wandmaster, is an unknown factor. We have never had the opportunity to study anyone who returned, indeed, no-one up to now has returned! In my view, Westroth should be kept in a secure place and given healing and help to overcome any residue of 'lo-ness' which may remain with him. I would be willing to undertake his custody and spend time studying his..."

  Trevorin was interrupted by Westroth's loud and bitter voice.

  "You want to study me Healer? To take my blood and make 'extract of lo'? Sell it at the market as a cure for bad blood? Very nice! Very generous of you!"

  "Westroth!" commanded Menoneth, "You will restrain yourself! Trevorin has made a very kind offer, which this meeting will consider and which you should too."

  "My options are increasing! Prisoner or patient!"

  "Westroth!" This time, the voice belonged to Jazlyn. It was anguished and shocked, and seemed to work as nothing else had on the young man.

  "I apologise," he said quietly, and sank back in his chair, this time staring at the ceiling.

  "My offer stands," said Trevorin gently. "I have nothing else to say."

  "Tabbareth, would you speak next please?"

  "My Lord Menoneth, I don't really know why I am here. The High Priest Tyloren would have been able to add his wisdom, I am sure, but I am only the keeper of the temple till he returns and have nothing to contribute other than to affirm, as have the previous speakers, my complete faith in him." Menoneth nodded and answered,

  "As our temple keeper, it is important that you are made aware of the facts, Tabbareth. If you have nothing more to say, please just listen and pass on your account of this meeting if and when Tyloren eventually returns. Have you any news of him?" Tabbareth thought hard, and then without saying either yes or no, replied, "I sometimes feel him when I tend the crystals, my Lord, and I want to hope that he is safe somewhere."

  "That is encouraging, Tabbareth, please let me know if you have any new information."

  "Yes, My Lord," said Tabbareth, and looked relieved that he had neither had to lie directly nor reveal Tyloren's whereabouts.

  "Vilma," said Menoneth, "I would like you to speak next."

  "Hmmm," replied Vilma, "I, too, have felt some sense of Tyloren from time to time and would like to add my voice to those of the other speakers and say that wherever he is, I believe he can be trusted to act in the best interests of Wandguard and the Temple,... if he is in a position to do so. Now, as for the subject of young Westroth, I will speak plainly. He has been, I sense, pushed out of balance through his time as a 'lo' which doesn't mean to say that he is any more bad or evil than the rest of us. All of us are a mixture of both good and evil. The Wandguard Plain is protected by the aura of the Crystal Trove contained in its Temple and gives us a stability which is not evident in other parts of the Realm, not so privileged. Of course, that is the whole reason for our being here; to maintain a small territory where balance is achieved in order to create harmony in this very small plain which exists to welcome the Wandmaster and support him when he comes from the outer world. We are unused to seeing displays of human temperament, and I would suggest that maybe we have forgotten what it is like to feel strong emotions such as jealousy, anger and even deep love. We are shielded from these emotions by the Crystal Trove which, reinforced of late by the Wandmaster, is working its magic on all of us and keeping us in line, at least that's what we have always experienced."

  "Are you saying that's not right?" asked Tabbareth with genuine interest, "The work of the Temple has always been directed thus, and the Crystal work we do concentrates on generating peace."

  "Oh, it's right. Our eventual aim is to establish an atmosphere of peace and tolerance outside the Plain on the lines of what we have in it, but it is interesting to see that Westroth's brief contact with the 'lo' has put him outside the reach of the Temple crystals so easily."

  "Westroth is an extreme case, Vilma," said Trevorin, ""As you know, he was exposed in the worst possible way to..."

  "Stop talking about me as though I weren't here!" interrupted Wes. "Ask me, why don't you. Ask me what it was like to be a 'lo". All faces were turned on the young guardian, and there was a t
aunting glint in his eyes as he said, "It was exciting! I felt powerful, and I felt alive!"

  John was listening with interest, and spoke for the first time.

  "Did you know where the 'lo' stopped and your own 'self' began? Could you still feel 'Westroth' or were your thoughts taking place in the head of the creature on your back?"

  Westroth smiled ironically, and said, "You're the first person who's asked me something of substance, Wandmaster, and I only wish your interest had been shown by certain other people seated around this table." Jazlyn coloured, Menoneth sighed and Trevorin nodded at his own thoughts.

  "I will answer you as best I can," he said slowly, "it was like being given access to a secret place deep inside myself. I was still me, but at times I could feel myself thinking from a different centre, as if the 'lo' was an extension of myself that had rooted itself in emotions I had forgotten I had. I felt strong, powerful, and unafraid of the intensity of what I was feeling. It was good. It felt somehow primitive but definitely me, or at least, part of me."

  John listened with interest, and thought that what Wes had experienced was much like what he, himself felt coming into the Realm.

  "And do you still feel that way?" asked John. Westroth was silent for a while and then answered carefully, "I am no longer wearing a 'lo' upon my back, and I have changed, yes, but I do not necessarily think for the worse."