John was troubled. He had formed a picture in his mind of the enemy, and this was not it. How could you plan to fight and hopefully kill an enemy who was the product of the same evil you were trying to end? Nya had been forced, like a plant without light, to become what he was; an elongated, love-starved, product. Battle-fodder. And even accepting that this was so, had he perhaps retained any of that human element given to him so briefly by his mother's love before he was snatched away from her?
How many of these unfortunate creatures would he be called on to destroy, he wondered.
"Not more like Nya," chimed the nasal voice out loud "only numbers". John had not felt the subtle touch of Nya's mind and while he appreciated on some level the attempt by Nya to help him cope with assessing the situation at hand, he was once again affected by the intelligence and depth to this unlikely-looking spindly-man, but he was troubled that he was so effortlessly able to intercept John's thoughts. John shook his head and blocked his thoughts, wishing to keep to himself the compassion he was feeling, and not to unwittingly share it with Nya or indeed with anyone else present. It was still possible that the spindly was just exceptionally clever and gifted, and that he was using John's sentiments to his own advantage.
"I think I have finished here," he said slowly. "You can take him back now".
Trevorin stood and motioned to Nya to precede him. As Nya passed the Crystal Trove, he idly traipsed a long-fingered hand over the crystals, which responded to the contact by humming and emitting a faint glow. Tabbareth, overcome by his emotions at Nya's admission that he had captured Tyloren, couldn't contain himself and shouted,
"Defiler! Do not pollute the Crystal Trove!" Nya pulled back his hand in agitation, and spun round to face the angry Tabbareth.
"Crystals in Athrak bad... dirty... Nya feel... different. Here crystals call Nya!" he responded defensively. "Crystals want Nya!" John raised a hand to Tabbareth, and asked Nya quietly, "Have you been into the Temple of Athrak, Nya? Have you touched the crystal trove there?"
"Yes, have," he replied "Sad, cold, dirty crystals... all in dark...like Nya".
"Were you a Priest in the Temple of Athrak?" questioned Menoneth. Nya gave a nasal laugh.
"No spindly priests. spindlies only numbers."
"Who are the Priests of the Trove in Athrak, Nya?" pressed Menoneth again.
"No priests. Only Great Lord. He...only he. Crystals locked away….Temple deep, deep down in tunnels. No light there."
"But you went?" asked John.
"Yes, went.... one time.... with numbers. Check for Lord Gnath. See all safe and correct... but Nya touch crystals... sad...sad...sad." He shook his head on his long neck and looked up from under a large forehead at John. "You want Athrak Crystals?" the idea suddenly occurred to him. John shot a look at Lord Menoneth, who nodded very slightly. John returned his gaze to the spindly.
"Yes, we want to get the Crystals out of the darkness and make them clean again. Clean like the Wandguard Crystals", said John, his voice soft and almost tender. "Will you help us Nya?"
Chapter 16
A New Excursion
With Westroth almost permanently outside John's chamber during waking hours, Jazlyn had been a very infrequent visitor, and their meetings in the Plain were always by chance, and then the two were often surrounded by other Guardians or members of the Wandguard community. There was a shared look, which always passed between them, which promised much, but other things had priority, and they both knew that. When one morning, as John was dressing, she appeared at his door, opened by a none-too-happy Westroth, John was surprised and pleased. With a "Thank-you Westroth, close the door after you please," John handled the situation.
"Of course, Wandmaster. Have no fear. Your privacy is my primary concern," answered Westroth with an ironic jutting of the chin and emphasis on the word 'privacy'. He gave Jazlyn a look, which left neither her nor John in any doubt as to his opinion of her visit, but he did eventually leave and close the door.
"Well, you braved the watchdog outside the door, did you?" asked John with a rueful grin as he reached for her hand. She smiled back at him and allowed him to pull her towards him and kiss her gently on the lips. And then they were in each others arms fighting the fire, which blazed up ready to consume them both. John's lips felt fleshy and they stung when eventually he felt her push him away from him and breathe, "Stop John, please stop!" Reluctantly John regained control and groaned as he hung his head on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he pleaded softly,"It's just that..."
"I know, I know...", she answered from somewhere much too close to his left ear. She then raised her head and when their glazed eyes met, they both laughed. Jazlyn stepped away first.
"I'm here for a reason," she said
"I didn't think this was a social call," replied John with a little smile.
"I've come to tell you that we're going out of the Plain." she continued. John looked at her with interest and asked.
"Where are we going?"
"Kinguard", she said simply. John knew the name. It was the nearest settlement to Wandguard, where members of the families of the Guardians lived. He had long been curious about what it would be like outside the confines of the Plain, and was pleased at the prospect of a trip somewhere to relieve the monotony of his present life.
"Are we going for any particular reason I should know about?" queried John.
"Routine. The Guardians are given opportunities to see their families from time to time, and because we may be called into action soon, Lord Menoneth decided it would raise the morale of his men."
"I have no family there," said John. "Why am I going?".
"Lord Menoneth has decided that the change will be beneficial for you. You will be staying at his family home."
"What about you?" he asked.
"I have an aunt; my mother's sister. I will be staying with her."
"Is it anywhere near Menoneth's house?"
"Not too far," grinned Jazlyn.
"That's good then, when do we set out?"
"Tomorrow morning, early," she answered. "See you then."
Before leaving him she stepped once more into his arms and kissed him. Then she was gone.
There was much cheerful banter among the Guardians the next morning as they readied themselves for the journey. A bare minimum of men would be left in the Plain, but no trouble was anticipated. The Wandmaster was going out, and he was the one Ataxios was after. Everyone knew and acknowledged that fact, especially John himself, but the thought had become familiar to him now and he did not let it keep him awake at nights any more. The Temple would be locked and sealed by the Wandmaster before leaving, using the wand, and it would take Ataxios himself to gain access. As John approached the assembled group, voices were raised in the familiar greeting, "Honour to the Wandmaster!" which had long ceased to be a source of either surprise or discomfort to him. He rejoined with his own "Honour," and a grin.
The company set off in ranks and John found himself in the centre of the first rank. His thoughts ranged across the various aspects of his life at Wandguard, and he sought out Jazlyn, whose back and distinctive dark braid were ahead and to the left of him. She turned her head once, briefly towards him and he knew she had felt his mind. The smallest of smiles reached her eyes before she turned and marched off. At the outer edge of the plain, after some considerable distance, the opening into the hills loomed and the high walls of the pass towered up alongside them. Memories of the last trip returned, mixed with the pleasant thought of a change of environment, and John felt like a child on a school trip, but with more than a touch of wariness.
The journey passed uneventfully. The company camped out in the hills that night and there was a relaxed camaraderie between the groups seated around the half a dozen campfires, which had been lit to provide warmth and to prepare food. John found himself with a plate in his hand and an appetite increased by the day's march. A voice called his name.
"Wandmaster, take a seat with us" Joh
n looked across to see Ethan heartily attacking his own plateful while balancing a huge chunk of bread on his knee.
"Glad to, Ethan," replied John with a smile, and sat himself on a boulder conveniently nearby.
"How about a game of k'tchang later, Wandmaster? It's been a long time since I had the pleasure of beating you!" Ethan munched.
"You're on!" John chomped, pleased to take up the challenge, "but I will try to prevent you from having the pleasure if I can!"
A mouthful of bread muffled the reply from Ethan, but the meaning was clear in the grin, which tried to find space across his bulging cheeks. He swallowed, and repeated,
"That's fighting talk, that is!"
"No," said John, "It's confidence."
The other Guardians had been watching the exchange, and there were a few chuckles and grins as the banter flew back and forth punctuated with flying breadcrumbs. The atmosphere was informal and John realised how he had missed his visits to the recreation area. Somehow, after the disappearance of Tyloren and John's own increasing realization of his status in the Plain, he had not found it as easy to mingle with the Guardians as he once had. The unfamiliar freedom from role and responsibility in the camp had made everyone more comfortable. With the meal over, the two young men took up position on either side of a convenient flat rock as the k'tchang board was set up. It consisted of three levels, the lower of which was marked around the edge with circles. In the centre was an area shaped like a five cornered star, there were supports leading from each point to an upper level which was smaller but had basically the same layout and finally there was a top level which was only the star-shape with a hole in its centre. The effect was something like a wedding cake, John always thought. Each player had three black stones and a white, marked with different coloured crystals in their centres to distinguish one set from the other. John's stones were the ruby-set and Ethan played the Emeralds. The object of the game was to progress the black stones from two different start points on opposite sides of the board. A dice, shaped like a pyramid, allowed between one and four jumps of any of the black stones, and the white one could be positioned in a gap between any of the player's own pieces. The opposing player could, at any time, jump one of his own black stones into a gap left by the other player, thus preventing his white from taking its position, and if there was already a white in the gap, it would be forced to retreat to the start point again. When the player managed to move his white piece onto all the circles in turn, he could jump to the higher level and so on. The game ended when the points of the star on the top level had all been visited, and then the winning player dropped his white stone through the hole in the top level and won.
The two players were evenly matched, and the stones clacked around the board, the game sometimes taking place on two levels simultaneously until the distinctive sound of the dropping stone announced the winner. John found himself with a mug of beer in his hand, enjoying himself immensely. He had beaten Ethan on the first game, lost two consecutive games and was now playing to equalize. He had managed to make the third level and the dice were in his favour. Circle by circle he moved around the rim and his eyes flicked from piece to piece, weighing his moves and following Ethan's. He badly needed a roll of three to help him complete the five points of the star on the top level and be able to drop his stone through for the finish. He picked up the little pyramid and flicked it into the air with a twist of his fingers. It landed on its point and spun before settling. When it did, three small points of obsidian speckled the amber dice, and with a yell of triumph, John moved his last star points and dropped his stone through.
Ethan groaned, and there was a general chorus of comment and laughter from the company who had gathered around the players.
"I demand a decider!" challenged Ethan.
"Not tonight, Ethan," said an amused voice, "We have to make an early start tomorrow and it's time to rest."
"Lord Menoneth, good evening," said Ethan. Menoneth had wandered over to the firelight, drawn by the sounds of good-natured banter, and had watched the last game with some envy.
"I used to be a fair player myself once, perhaps one of you two worthies would allow me to play a match with you one evening?"
John, warm with the glow of beer and a recent victory, asked, "What would be the penalty for beating you?"
"Oh, from what I've seen, I don't think either of you needs to worry about that! I don't see myself losing!"
There was a general ripple of laughter as Menoneth turned to walk away.
"Time to turn in for the night," he threw over his shoulder, and the company rose, stretched and yawned. John helped Ethan to put the k'tchang game away in its box, called out a cheerful "Goodnight all!" and headed for his tent.
"Sweet dreams!" came a chorus of female voices in his direction, and he turned to see Jazlyn, Sharilla, Maylene and Joceley lazily strolling to a nearby tent.
"Would any of you ladies care to help that wish come true?" he teased. Maylene broke from the group and made to head in his direction, to be herded back in line by Jazlyn, with some effort and a lot of giggling.
"Sorry, Wandmaster," said Maylene. "I would have obliged but..." Jazlyn gave John a final exasperated look, and joined with Sharilla and Joceley to herd the protesting Maylene before them through the tent flap. The smile on his lips faded when he entered his own tent to find Westroth lying on his bedroll with a cold, frozen expression on his face. As John entered, he turned his back to face the opposite direction. Gilladen, Yseth and Mandrik were also preparing to bed down, and John was very glad to have them in the same tent. It would have been an uncomfortable night with just Wes for company.
At first light, the camp was on its feet and in no time, breakfast of bread and cheese washed down with strong herbal tea had been shared out, the tents were taken down and the company was ready to move out. John found himself called to the front of the company with Vilma and Lord Menoneth, who was complaining irritably,
"I have to say that I am troubled by the fact that you kept vital information from me concerning Tyloren."
Vilma answered without hesitation, and boldly, "It was necessary."
"Explain yourself, Vilma. Why would it ever be necessary to keep things secret from me?"
"We had to act. What we did was extremely precarious and needed the utmost care. I'm afraid it was my decision to leave you out of it; I felt it was better to make an attempt to help Tyloren there and then and that any delay in discussing the pros and cons of it may have cost our priest his life," she replied firmly.
"And how do you know that Tyloren, in fact, did escape?" queried Menoneth,
"I have reached him since," she replied.
John's head shot up with interest and he searched around in his own awareness for some inkling of Tyloren. Vilma gave him a look and smiled, "He is guarding his existence well," she said. "When I reached him, it was in a moment of weakness, and I felt he was very near to death, but he is gaining strength now. Somehow, he has managed to overcome pain, hunger and despair, and I know that he is well. I can tell you no more than that."
Menoneth still looked troubled.
"And if he has been forced into working with the enemy?"
"That is another reason why I didn't inform you, Menoneth. None of those involved in the rescue bid had the slightest doubt as to his loyalty. Total commitment and co-operation by all concerned were necessary for the attempt to work."
"Well, I just hope you're right. For the time being, I am ordering you never to take measures of any kind without first consulting me. Is that clear?"
"Crystal clear," answered Vilma, fingering the stones on her long necklaces thoughtfully.
"Hmm. Well make sure it is. As for you, Wandmaster, did you have no doubts as to the correctness of your actions?"
"None," answered John immediately, "I just knew I had to do it and how to do it. It wasn't easy, you know," and he went into a description of exactly how the rescue had been achieved. Vilma frowned as Menoneth's jaw dropp
ed open in surprise at the details that emerged, and John could feel she was uncomfortable about his revelations, but he felt Menoneth deserved to know.
"Your power is very substantial and surprising, and I truly hope you will use it wisely," said Menoneth studying John, and his eyes betrayed the thought that he would really rather not have him acting unilaterally – he was far too strong.
Just as their conversation came to a natural end, the voice of a river crashed loud and strong through the wooded area they were now entering. The River Suryana was a fast-flowing body of water that thundered through a gorge, scoured out of hard bedrock on its course out of the gleaming mountains to the south of Kinguard on its course north towards Athrak, where it divided and flowed in two separate tributaries around the feet of the range, added to from the northern peaks rolling towards and eventually into the sea at the far coast. That much John knew from his lessons with Maplin, the geographer, who had spent long hours with him, teaching him the topography of his new land. The voices of the travellers gained in volume at first in an attempt to compete with the roar of the river, but as they got closer, conversation became almost impossible as the river took over and drowned out all their voices. They headed towards a bridge, which, at some height, crossed the gorge and the company came to a halt.
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