Wandmaster

by Valerie Kramboviti

  "You are the one responsible, Wandmaster. You! Not I, nor anyone else!"

  "What happened last night was foolish, I admit that, and I will take all the blame, but it was not done deliberately. What you just did was unforgivable given the condition she was in, and I hold you personally responsible for her lying now on the floor in this state." John had stood up during the exchange and now stood eye to eye with the older man, his finger pointing at Menoneth in accusation.

  Fortunately, Jazlyn chose that instant to flicker her eyes open and groan. Menoneth, whose mouth was open to fire back a counter-attack, remained silent and bent over the prostrate young woman with concern as John once again sank to his knees beside her. Vilma spoke now in agitation.

  "Stand back and give her air, you two. Come my little one," she crooned softly, "Come back to us. All will be well. Don't be afraid."

  Tears coursed down Jazlyn's cheeks and she refused to look at anyone. She reached for her mother and turned her face towards her and away from the two angry men. Voices in the hall announced the arrival of Melindra and two strong guardians with a stretcher of sorts, and Jazlyn was quickly and efficiently removed from the study, to be taken to the healery. Vilma shot unreadable glances at both men before following her daughter out.

  "I have important news from Tyloren when you are able to hear it," and then she carefully closed the door behind her as if to show that she expected them to make their peace and put an end to the matter man to man.

  In the silence that loomed between them, John thought carefully about his position, and realized that an apology was probably in order, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Menoneth waved him silent, and said,

  "Sit Down Wandmaster. It has been a busy night and morning." John did as he was told, and when he no longer had to hold himself on his feet, he sagged heavily, allowing his weariness to emerge. Instead of the angry words, which had come so readily to his mouth a few moments ago, there was now just a sad emptiness as he reviewed his actions and his current position. His thoughts turned to his past life, before the crystals, before the Realm, before Ataxios, before Jazlyn. He pictured himself sitting at his workstation at Prowess and Dibbs, reading his newspaper on the bus, and wandering round the supermarket shelves; so domestic, all of it. His present situation had an intensity he had never experienced in ‘real' life and wherever he was now caused his immediate concerns so that all the past seemed insignificant and pointless. He found that he didn't really care much any more about his past, or whether he would ever go back there. In fact, he felt he belonged here now with these people and in these times, as if he had been shaped by who knows what factors to be just who he was, to do exactly what he was doing. Maybe it was his emotional state, maybe his near-exhaustion, but in that moment he knew, truly knew that he was John Stone, Wandmaster of the Dark Crystal Realm before he was anything else, and he breathed deeply, staring at a point on the wall across the room as the knowledge soaked into him.

  When he eventually turned from the wall and looked at Menoneth, there was a new depth in his gaze, and he blinked slowly without averting his eyes.

  "My Lord, Menoneth," he began, addressing his senior very formally and correctly. "I ask forgiveness for putting my people and my Realm in jeopardy with my thoughtless selfishness. I behaved as John Stone, not as the Wandmaster. From this day on, I swear I will be, in whatever way I can, and at whatever personal cost, a worthy Wandmaster. I have come of age, Lord Menoneth and I will make no more impetuous, adolescent mistakes."

  Menoneth had templed his hands before his face and was watching John with great interest as his lips pouted on his fingers.

  "No one said this was going to be easy, John, but I don't think I had realized until today just how hard things must have been for you. You have been changed by your experiences here and you have, at last become John Stone, Wandmaster, in your own mind. This means that you have responsibilities, which are very heavy, and they must take precedence over your personal life. I too, must ask an apology of you for not fully comprehending how much of a sacrifice we are asking of you. To us, you were that man from the first day you arrived in the Realm, and that was our mistake……and it was an unforgivable one. I realize that we have no right to demand from you the level of commitment and sacrifice required at this time, but I, Menoneth, do demand this of you because I must; Ihave no alternative. I will say only this; with you at our side, there may be a chance for our survival against the evil Ataxios, but without you there is none, and all those you have met and shared experience with here during your short time with us will fade and disappear under the cloak of darkness which will spread through our Realm."

  John held Menoneth's gaze and said slowly, "My place is here. My time is now. Let the past lie, and let's hope that the future will be kind enough to allow us a few more pages in its book." John's eye was steady, and Menoneth saw with relief that he now truly had a Wandmaster.

  "So be it."

  "So be it," echoed John, and the two men clasped hands across the desk in a handshake, which sealed a new level of friendship and trust between them.

  "And now, some much-needed rest for you, Wandmaster, I think, after a very eventful night."

  "Before I sleep, I would very much like to hear Tyloren's news from Vilma," answered John, making no move to rise. Menoneth studied his Wandmaster's face, seeing not exactly resistance, but determination, and he nodded assent.

  "Maylene!" The door opened and the strong form of the guardian appeared in the doorway. "Get Vilma for me, and make it quick."

  "Yessir!" She disappeared just as quickly as she had appeared and within a few minutes, Vilma came bustling in. John was relieved to see her calm and to receive a thought message showing him a quietly sleeping Jazlyn. The door closed, and Vilma drew up a chair to impart the contents of the latest information she had received from Tyloren.

  In fact, it was quite some time before John stood up to quit the room. Not only did the interesting story of Tyloren unfold before him, but it was also revealed, this time by Menoneth that Westroth was still missing and hadn't been seen since the welcoming party, when he had been observed to be heavily drunk. In addition, there was the report of the tracking party, which had been dispatched to try to find traces of Nya in and around the area of his attack of the previous evening. By all accounts, he had simply disappeared. But the news which shook John more than any other, and threw him into turmoil, was the report sent by Tabbareth to Vilma of the savage killing of Althea in the Healery back in Wandguard. John had failed, up to that point, to take the spindly seriously, being slightly amused by his nasal laugh and gangling gait. When he considered the events in the forest with Jazlyn, his heart ran cold at the thought that they had been face to face with a callous murderer, who had no compunction about taking life. He felt saddened and somewhat ashamed as he remembered how he had toyed with Althea to make Jazlyn jealous, and had led her on only to drop her unceremoniously and cruelly when she no longer interested him. Her sweetness and unselfishness now seemed to him even greater, and he couldn't forgive himself for his treatment of her. She was dead, Jazlyn was lucky to have escaped serious injury, and he felt responsible for both, though it hadn't been his hand that caused these two separate incidents. At that point, he took an oath to make Nya pay if he ever got the chance, though he knew it would not relieve him of the guilt he was feeling. He never wanted anyone to pay the price these two women had paid just for the privilege of his attentions. It was better to concentrate on his role in the coming battle with Ataxios, and that was what he intended to do from now on. No more entanglements. No more mistakes.

  Having slipped away from the party before Melindra's vision, John was unaware of the scene and of the terror her wailing had instilled in all present. On learning from Vilma and Menoneth exactly what had occurred, it came home to him just how agonizing his disappearance must have been at that time, with pandemonium and confusion rife; was there no end to reminders of his misdeeds? There was a knock at the door, and May
lene ushered in Honeth, who looked in need of a shave and some sleep. He shot a look at John, and addressed Menoneth,

  "Permission to report, sir?"

  "Yes, Honeth, report freely."

  "No news I'm afraid. I managed to pick up a trail, which I thought might be Westroth's but it petered out in the rocky steppes leading off towards the North. It looks as though he may be bound for Athrak, and I felt it unwise to follow him any deeper into enemy country without reporting back first and maybe putting together a search party." Menoneth had listened to the whole report, but had seized at one word.

  "Athrak? Why would he be going to Athrak? Has he gone completely mad? Alone and at such times as these!" Menoneth, in his agitation, rose suddenly from his chair and sent it crashing to the floor behind him. Everyone's nerves were shot and John found himself holding his breath as Menoneth and Honeth got in each others way as they both attempted to right the piece of furniture. Once again, John felt responsible. If he hadn't come between Wes and Jazlyn….A sharp rebuke flashed into his mind and Vilma was suddenly in his head

  "Do you think you are responsible for everything? Did you turn Westroth into a Lo? Did you create Ataxios? Give yourself a break, and see things as they are. You have done only what you had to do because you are the man you are, John Stone, Wandmaster and it is your humanity which may yet turn things around for us if you don't lose faith – especially in yourself."

  Menoneth had been re-established in his chair, and was looking from John to Vilma, apparently waiting for an answer to something he had said.

  "Am I interrupting something?" he asked in an impatient voice. Vilma stared back calmly at Menoneth and asked,

  "What will you do about Westroth?"

  "What can I do? Other matters are more pressing and I can't afford to waste men tracking down my wayward son at the moment. I will have to hope that he stays out of danger and out of the hands of unfriendly forces, but I am truly concerned about his mental state and fear his judgment is impaired."

  "Everyone has his own destiny," said Vilma quietly "and it is not for us to alter the way the dice fall. We can only take what circumstances surround us and proceed. Westroth is doing just that, and we must allow him to do so, while we prepare our people here for hard and dangerous days. I think the time has come for Kinguard to work its magic and keep our families safe while we go off to find our enemy and play out our hand against him. It is inevitable and we must face it stoically. Our most powerful weapon, and here she stared directly at John, is ready, I think, to go to battle." John didn't reply, but held her gaze and nodded solemnly.

  The next few days saw systematic preparations taking place within the village, and John was called out early from his bed to join Jet in some training. He had not forgotten what he had learned in the early days, but he was not so quick in his reactions as he had been then. However, the trek from Wandguard had helped to tone him up and he was looking good, and feeling strong. He made the most of his training sessions, and was able to hold his own in sparring contests with other guardians, but the old comradeship was lacking now and he tried to see it as a natural outcome to his acceptance by the men as their Wandmaster.

  The villagers likewise were preparing, and there was a lot of carrying of supplies and movement of livestock out of the area. John had no idea what the village could possibly do to defend itself against Athrak, and supposed that there was a mountain hideout off towards the south in Felderland, which was the direction John's eyes sometimes swept as he tried to trace the ways back to his first appearance in the Realm so long ago; for it was from there that Gilladen had led him to Wandguard.

  Two or three days passed in this fashion until one day, instead of being called out for training in the morning, he was woken by a soft knock on his door, and a pale, serious Jazlyn was suddenly standing in his doorway melting all his resolutions and reminding him of all he had been trying to forget and keep from surfacing. He mustered all his self control, and inquired gently,

  "How are you?" with concern in his voice.

  "Much better now," she answered, and closed the door behind her, crossing the room to him and holding him close.

  "Jazlyn," he sighed, detaching her from him and holding her at arm's length, "This is not the time, and I can't contemplate any move to claim you until my task is done and things have been resolved in one way or another. Please understand. I am not about to endanger you again because of your entanglement with me. You hear me?"

  "Yes. That doesn't mean I have to like it though, does it?" She looked up at him sideways and the little smile he liked so much spread across her face. "I will not be going with the Athrak party when you leave. Menoneth considers me too big a risk for you, so I am to stay here and look after the villagers and the farm animals."

  "You've no idea how relieved that makes me feel," exhaled John, and then exhaled some more as Jazlyn sharply thumped him in the stomach playfully, and placed her hands on her hips, staring at him with mock anger.

  "Don't think you can go off and get yourself killed without me! I want you back here in one piece so I can show you how to milk goats, and become domesticated in times without Ataxios and all his horrors."

  "Yessir!" he replied and allowed himself to hug her with all the warmth he really felt.

  "Now it's time to be Wandmaster here in Kinguard. You have to help us disappear," she said, laughing softly at his puzzled expression, "And this is the last time we will see each other at close range till you come back, so here's something to keep you warm. She kissed him tenderly and he responded in kind, till they separated and just held onto each other in a warm hug that eventually ended. Then, John passed the halter with the wand over his shoulders and followed Jazlyn out of his room in Menoneth's house, down the stairs and out into the subdued light which had come to feel so natural to him now. He and his wand were needed for something, and though he didn't know what exactly, he sighed to himself as he thought how 'normal' it now seemed to him to be called on to do the unusual time and time again.

  Jazlyn led John to the center of the village, and there assembled were Vilma, who was dressed for travelling, Melindra, who was standing tall and straight, in severe skirt and shawl, Menoneth and the village priest Cammaneth. Jazlyn took her leave of John with a gentle squeeze of the hand, and moved back to the outer ring of the village square where the remainder of the villagers stood. John had not noticed before that the village was built around a hexagonal area, in the center of which he now stood, and that the angles where the edges of the hexagon met were aligned with the watch towers of the village. These towers were now visible in the morning light, but their wooden exteriors had been stripped off, revealing six, tall crystalline structures at the boundaries of the village. In the center, where John now found himself, the fountain which usually played, had been stilled, revealing yet another crystal structure.

  Menoneth motioned for John to stand beside him and addressed the people of Kinguard.

  "These troubled times have come about through no fault of our own, and we have no choice but to face them. Our Wandmaster is at our side, and the hour is approaching fast when he will be called on to fulfill his destiny here in our Realm. Our future rests on the outcome of the confrontation shortly to take place, and we must try to prepare ourselves for what may come. It is for this reason that the village of Kinguard is going down – a procedure, which has not been instigated in many life-times, but our Guardians will be at the Wandmaster's side, as will I, myself, and it is my firm belief that we will all be better able to play our roles if we know that our loved ones are safely hidden from unfriendly eyes, and that there will be a continuance here, no matter what. Menoneth's eyes strayed to his daughter Marny, standing close to Jazlyn, and then to John.

  "I therefore, bid you all farewell, my kinsmen and women, and would ask for your thoughts and your love at this time."

  As one, the assembled villagers raised their hands above their heads and their voices were joined in a response.

  "Hono
ur to the Wandmaster. Honour to our houses. Honour to the Crystal Trove, and victory to the Righteous."

  "Your voices have been heard," said Cammaneth and he closed his eyes and appeared to be muttering prayers under his breath.

  "Captains, lead out your Guardians!" called Menoneth, and the ranks of young men and women in their leather garb broke the circle and headed for the wooded area leading off north.

  "Village keepers, lead our families out to the safe haven." The villagers began to move out, Marny and Jazlyn staring wistfully back over their shoulders as they joined the remaining inhabitants to follow in the tracks of those who had left the previous days.

  Soon there was an eerie silence as the only people remaining in the village were Vilma, Melindra, Cammaneth, Menoneth and John. "It's time," said Cammaneth, seemingly having completed his prayers. "Wandmaster, your wand is required."

  John removed his wand from its sheath and felt its power emanating in waves.

  "We, who are in this place today, are the only ones who will be able to penetrate its secret location. Anyone else will pass through without sensing its presence at all, but its influence will shield our folk, now gathering in the friendly hills of Kavernor Heights. The power we create this day will confuse and befuddle any who come this way searching to find our kin."

  John felt the familiar call of the wand and opened himself to its power. He stood at the center of the hexagon and allowed the power to flood through him and out the tip of the wand, and as he focused his eyes, a beam of light shot out of the crystal wand and struck the central column, bounced back to strike the nearest crystal tower and then join them all together in a string of zooming light which passed like electrical charges between them till they were all connected. The light seemed to generate speed, creating a continuous glow around the five within the center, until, with a sudden loud bang, like a whip crack, the light, the towers and everything within their bounds disappeared, just ceased to be there. John looked around at Menoneth and the others, and they all appeared to be standing in a green but totally empty glade. There were no houses; there were no towers, just an empty space where Kinguard had once stood. It had been swallowed by the light and was now hidden. Despite his part in the miracle, or perhaps because of it, John let out a gasp of wonder. Slowly he lowered the wand, unsure if he was supposed to, and was relieved to find nothing altered. He and his companions were standing in an apparently empty space.