The School of Sky had been in Preterlandis for almost half a century before Dirth had become a notable city. The masters of the school had offered the castle to her ancestors when they’d ascended the throne. The school had been established, after the Crafter Wars, by Master Greyan. It stood in the center of Dirth because this was the center of their quarter of the earth, a quarter of Preterlandis that was ruled by light magic. Dirth had sprung up around the school, because this was where the King made his home. The School of Land stood in the center of its quarter in the Forest of Furlin, a quarter of Preterlandis that was ruled by dark magic. The School of Sea was housed in the Guild Building at Madras, which was a port town in Sylphia. Of all the islands and continents, Sylphia’s light magic was the purest. The School of Fire was housed in the Guild Building in Darkling Haven. Four sects, two who served the light magic and two who served the dark magic and the balance was preserved, or at least it was supposed to be preserved. Leilas wasn’t certain how true that was anymore. The schools and the balance were Master Greyan’s legacy to Preterlandis. He created the sects and the oath, which every master crafter took, that ensured crafters would not use their powers to upset the balance.
Leilas stepped over to one of the many windows that encircled the room and looked out over the need that was now Dirth. Crafters could do much to ease the suffering of these people, but they wouldn’t. She didn’t understand how they could stand by and do nothing and often, she wondered if she was truly called to take the vows of a master crafter. There was something inside her that told her she had so much more to offer this world than what was encompassed by the oath of the crafters.
Master Frey stepped into the room that seemed to be created from the clouds and the sky. In the ten years Leilas had been coming to the school, Master Frey hadn’t changed in the least. He looked to be about twenty-four with golden hair and blue eyes that matched the blue robe he wore. Unlike Leilas’ more practical tunic and breeches, he wore the robes of a scholar.
“Leilas,” his musical tones were a balm to her tight emotions and she felt herself relaxing. “I didn’t expect you today. You’re on leave until you take your oath, aren’t you?”
He knew she was. She had learned everything he could teach her. Before she could learn anything more she had to take the Crafter’s Oath. The most secret teachings of the schools couldn’t be learned by any who hadn’t taken the Crafter’s Oath. But it was a peculiarity of crafters to never presume they knew the truth. She always presumed she knew, perhaps just another indication she wasn’t supposed to be a master.
“You are supposed to be a master,” Gidron Frey answered her unspoken doubt. “You are by far the best student I’ve ever had. When you take the vows, it will become clearer to you.”
“I hope so, because it isn’t clear right now. I’m impatient with my father, with his excesses and manipulations. I want to help, to make a difference in my city, to help my people.”
“And you can, but only to a certain extent,” cautioned Gidron. “As a master crafter, you’ll be expected to protect the balance between the light and dark magic. There will be times when you’ll wish to help the Jovanulum, but by doing so, you would upset that balance. You’d have to refrain from doing what your heart would have you do, for the greater good.”
Leilas held back the sigh she felt. Gidron had been telling her this for almost ten years. She was tired of waiting, of holding back because the Sky masters said the balance would waver, when it seemed to her the balance was tilting more and more in the direction of the Dredracians.
“The Dredracians grow bolder every day. Today they attacked me in broad daylight, in the middle of the city.”
Gidron nodded, seemingly unconcerned with the danger she had faced earlier. “You should be more careful about roaming the city unescorted. You know the Dredracians look for those attached to the royal family. Your father has many enemies among them. His alliances are not as strong as he believes them to be.”
“I won’t become a prisoner in my own home, like my mother. It is only when I roam the city alone that I learn what is troubling my people and what is happening within the city. People of the Jovanulum are disappearing, at a fairly alarming rate. Why haven’t the Sky masters done more to stop the Dredracians from killing the people who follow the light magic?”
Gidron smiled sadly. “As I said before, there are times when we can’t follow our heart. There is more at stake than we understand.”
“Help me understand, Master Frey, because that explanation is beginning to wear thin and begins to sound like an excuse for not being willing to stand up and fight for what is right.”
Gidron tucked his hands in the loose sleeves of his robe and pursed his lips. Leilas knew what this meant. He was going to offer to teach her a power that he knew she wasn’t quite ready to master. He’d often set her tasks that had seemed beyond her. So far she’d mastered them all, though there had been a few times the outcome had been in doubt. She’d learned the hard way that there was a time for every power and that the quest for power wasn’t necessarily the best path to choose. She’d spent a week in the dark recesses of a madman’s mind before Master Frey had been able to summon her essence back to the real world when she’d first tried walking inside the thoughts of others. She’d been confident she was ready to wander in other people’s minds when Master Frey had offered to teach her. They’d both been wrong about her readiness and it had hindered her studies for more than a year.
“Would you like to look into the mists? Perhaps what you see in the mists will help you understand your destiny as a crafter and why it’s so important to measure what we do with our abilities.”
Leilas had never been in the mists. She’d been nearby when the Sky masters had called the mists and looked into the future. She’d seen shadows flowing by, but she’d not been allowed to join in the group that studied the pictures reflected there. They’d allowed her to watch the ritual that called the mists so she could learn it, but they hadn’t believed she was ready to join them there.
“I believe you are ready to look into your future. I’ll be here to help you if you get into trouble. A luxury you won’t have in the future. I won’t be your teacher for much longer. I should warn you that it’s not always easy to interpret what you see in the mists.”
“What do they show? The future as it will be, or as it might be?”
“The mists show you what you want to see. That’s their power and their weakness.”
Leilas moved to the window and tried to understand how seeing what you wanted to see could help. She already knew what she wanted.
“How can I explain this better?” Gidron moved to a bowl and began to add ingredients from the shelf of potions behind him. “If you’re seeking truth or knowledge and come to the mists with a pure heart, you’ll see a certain truth. If there’s more than one person exploring the mists, there will be more than one path shown. That’s why the masters always come together as a council to use the mists. This is the power of the mists. The future shown will be only a shadow, because the future hasn’t yet been written. But with some study the foreknowledge can be useful. On the other hand,” Gidron added ten drops of a green substance Leilas knew to be the juice of the misteria, the essential ingredient of the mist. She’d spent many hours searching it out in the forests surrounding Dirth. “If you come to the mists seeking knowledge to use as power, you’ll see another destiny, also only a shadow, but a shadow skewed by ambition and darkness. Many who come to the mists seeking power will believe the shadow because what it shows them is what they want to see.”
“And that is the weakness of the mists.”
“Exactly. Are you ready?”
Leilas nodded, although she wasn’t sure she was ready. Stepping forward to the bowl, she looked down into the bubbling green liquid. With a deep breath, she began the chant that would call the mists. The words of power were in a language no longer spoken in Preterlandis, or anywhere in the known world. Master Frey said the
y were from a much earlier time, when people were closer to the earth and knew its powers more intimately. The power they wielded now was but a shadow of what once existed.
“Drakka porten, drakka nebul, drakka scion.” Leilas chanted the words seven times, clearing her mind of any thought except that of seeking truth. With each repetition, the mists rose and became thicker around her and Gidron Frey. As she fell silent, the shadows began to rise. A man swirled around her, tall, bearded, dark hair, dark eyes, and sword in hand. She watched as he battled around her. Others were in the battle with him. Ahead of him, a warrior in golden-colored armor was surrounded by dozens of Dredracians. The man with the sword in hand was battling intently to reach the warrior who seemed destined to die.
“Chodra,” she heard herself call out. As she called, the man with the sword turned to her, sadness in his eyes.
“Chidra. Where is the one who will save us? Then he turned back to the battle. The picture then turned to Magnus Crog, where her sister Catalaina lived. As she approached the gates, arrows began to shower down on her. Pierced by several, she retreated from the gates into another vision. Gidron stood in the ruins of the School of Land, a book held above his head triumphantly.
“Why are you there?” She asked of her master.
“Because I’m in the mists with you, you also see my future, my truth.”
“You shouldn’t be in the School of Land,” she tried to explain her confusion to him.
“But I’m always at the School of Land when I walk in the mists,” replied her master. “Being here with you, I begin to understand why.”
As Leilas tried to comprehend his cryptic comment, the mists swirled back into the bowl and soon all that was left was a bubbling green liquid. Leilas stared into it, wondering if what she’d seen had helped her at all.
Picking up the bowl that held the green liquid, Gidron dumped the potion down a pipe that emptied into the drains beneath the city. A strange smile flickered on Gidron’s lips as he turned to Leilas. “I believe we should meet with the masters. It is time.”
“Time for what? Did what we see in the mists have some meaning to you? It meant nothing to me.”
“The answers to your future and your questions were there. Surely you understood what was shown to you.”
What Leilas understood was that nothing she’d seen meant anything to her and that nothing she’d seen had to do with saving Dirth and the Jovanulum living there. Clearly, Gidron had seen something that was beyond her teaching. Disappointed at the outcome of her trip into the mists, Leilas followed Gidron out of the schoolroom and headed toward the council chamber.
She caught up with him standing before the doors of the meeting hall. He had already pulled the chord of the great gong that called the members together. She could hear them assembling in the room behind the door. She’d never been before the masters. She was supposed to make her first visit behind these doors when she took her oath. Truth be told, she always felt uncomfortable around the members of the council. For some reason, they made her feel as if she had been judged and found wanting. Perhaps she had been judged. After all, her father was one of the most evil kings in Preterlandis and his blood flowed in her veins. Whatever the reason, she wasn’t looking forward to facing them when they hadn’t requested her presence.
The gong sounded deep within the school once again as the doors began to swing open. It sounded twelve times before the doors were resting against their hinges. By this time, several other students, who had taken their oaths and stayed to extend their knowledge in specialized areas, and masters from the guild within Dirth had gathered before the door and entered as Frey ushered Leilas into the massive chamber.
Twelve masters sat on the council for the School of Sky. Today only nine were present. Three were not teachers at the school or associated with the local guild and could not return at such short notice. They would come within the day or would be made aware of the problems presented. No decision would be reached until they had been contacted, either in person or in mindspeak. Crafters had used this ability for many years, but only those blessed with the true gift could send their thoughts to the reaches of the earth and find the crafter they were seeking. Master Manchu, the eldest of the council, was one who was blessed with such a gift.
“Master Frey, step forward.” Master Manchu motioned to her master after all had been assembled. His voice echoed off the decorative plaster of the domed ceiling of the chamber. The upper tiers of seats were empty this day. There had never been many people invited to attend the council meetings, at least not since Leilas had been an apprentice of the school.
Cedric Manchu was a huge man, typical of the people of the Drakmoth Mountains. His hair was dark and his eyes narrowed upward at the ends. Her father had tried for years to get Drakmothians to join his army, but most of the mountain people were content to stay in the mountains and mind their sheep. Rarely did someone like Master Manchu come from the mountains to make his home in Dirth.
“Why have you summoned us?” He asked as her master took her arm and stepped into the circle that was surrounded by the seats of the Council. Those who came only to listen sat in the seats behind the masters on the Council. The twelve council seats formed a circle of power. Those who stood within it could only speak the truth, unless they were a very powerful magik and could overcome the combined power of the masters encircled there.
“I believe you are all aware of my student Leilas, King Leyhan’s daughter.” Gidron pulled her forward into their sight. She’d been content to hide in his shadow. She’d felt the power of the masters as soon as she’d stepped into the circle. It had not intimidated her as much as she thought it would, although it would be a powerful force to try to overcome. She felt the intensity rise as the nine sitting there focused on her.
“We are to see her at the ritual, not today,” Cedric answered softly.
“I was leading her through the mists, to help her understand how her actions affected the overall balance in Dirth.”
“It was probably time to let her see into the mists, although she is young,” agreed Cedric. Murmurs of agreement came from the others on the council. “What has this to do with the council?”
“She was identified as the Chidra,” stated Gidron, with barely controlled intensity. “I saw myself again at the School of Land, with her there. It began to make more sense. Also, the man who named her was Adrian Cheran. He was fighting with Darryl. The time has come.”
Murmurs hummed through Leilas’ head as the council commented to each other on Gidron’s interpretation of the vision. It still didn’t make sense to her. Although she began to realize that Chodra and Chidra were titles and not names.
So, she’d been named Chidra by a man named Adrian Cheran. What did that mean? What did Chodra mean? More importantly, why was he asking her where their champion was? She was but a lonely crafter.
“The Chidra is the one who will name the Chodra, the Champion, who will lead the Jovanulum against the Dredracians.” Master Ren Narwhal addressed her for the first time. He was affiliated with the Sea and had studied at the School of Sea for some years before he attached himself to the School of Sky. Master Narwhal had been chosen to the council because of his unique knowledge of the regions by the sea, as well as his ability to become several of the animals of the sea. He was small, dark-skinned and lithe, and reminded her of a seal. “We will reveal what Master Frey has not bothered to tell you. We need time, however, to discuss what this vision means. Gidron’s interpretation is but one conclusion that can be drawn.”
“I fear time is not a luxury you have right now, my lords.” A man stepped through the large wooden door and moved forward to address the council. He was a darkly-tanned man, appearing to be in his early thirties. Leilas was immediately drawn to him, although she couldn’t pinpoint a reason why. He wasn’t handsome, though he wasn’t ugly. He looked weary, as if he spent too much time on the road. Clothed in a dusty cloak, he wore the silver clouds of a Sky wanderer, as well as
the gold of a master. Leilas wondered what had brought him to the school. The crafters who chose to be wanderers at the time they took the Crafter Oath very rarely came home. Magiks who wanted family and stability joined the local guild when they took their oath and were assigned to a city, which they soon learned to call home.
“Joshuas, it is good to see you, old friend.” Cedric’s eyes lit with pleasure as the wanderer stepped into the circle. “But knowing you, what you have to tell us must be very important, if you have come to address the council.”
Leilas slipped out of the circle, relieved to be out of the pull of the power. Standing off to the side, she watched the interchange between this stranger and the council. Unlike most of the students and masters who addressed the council, Joshuas’ thoughts were protected from probing. It was a bit disconcerting to find one who felt the need to protect himself from those in the School of Sky.
“I didn’t know I would have the honor of addressing the council, that honor was just a lucky coincidence. I am afraid I bring dire news.” Joshuas bent in a slight bow before he continued addressing the members of the council. “Jarras has rejected King Leyhan’s overtures for an alliance, and has aligned himself with Darryl. Darryl and Jarras are approaching Dirth at this moment with the intent of overthrowing King Leyhan, killing all of the royal family and their servants.” Joshuas waited for this news to be assimilated before he continued. “Darryl and Jarras have also aligned themselves with the School of Land and intend to attack the School of Sky. They believe that the school has been promoting their own claim for power by helping King Leyhan acquire land and power with the use of magic. They are intent on putting an end to the school’s interference.”
“How can the School of Land ally themselves in this fight?” asked Gidron, angrily. “The powers are in balance. They must know this. This would be in direct conflict with the Treaty of Greyan.”
First Comes The One Who Wanders Page 2