“Things are in motion beyond our understanding, Dragon Knight,” the Shaman replied. “This boy has pushed through the block of magic and tapped into it at its source. If he and your quest are to continue, he must learn how to understand it and wield it.”
The three grew silent. Shayla continued to stare hard into the dwarf’s bearded face as Tiberius backed away and rejoined Michael at the bed. “What do you think, Michael?”
Michael took a moment to gather his thoughts. With all he had seen just a few minutes before, real or unreal, past and future or no, he needed answers. “I will go with him, my friends. If he speaks true, then I must learn all there is to know. You can tell me what I’ve missed in due time.”
The Shaman smiled wide beneath his long flowing beard. “Come then,” he beckoned, “you have much to learn, young Mage. And I fear the days have already begun to grow short.”
Michael slowly stood out of the wooden bed. He nodded to each of his friends before leaving them in the room. The Mage approached the barracks' outer door again but was frozen on the spot, unsure if another cold blast was to greet him upon leaving the room. He slowly reached out and pushed the door open to see a bright, snowy village against a backdrop of trees and mountains. He took in the somewhat familiar sight before the Shaman pushed past him and headed to the woods beyond.
Michael stood on the brink as he had before, trapped in his own thoughts and fear. In his mind, he pictured all he had seen with great fear and sadness. A growing thirst for understanding and knowledge overwhelmed his dread and compelled him onward. He closed his eyes and extended a foot to the ground outside. The soft familiar sound of snow crunching underfoot met his ears and brought a smile to his face.
He stepped out of the barracks and felt the warm sun greeting his face and the stiff cold air burning his nose. He took a deep breath and smiled, glad to be amongst the real waking world once again. He opened his eyes, a renewed strength and sense of wonder growing inside him. Shutting the door behind him, he followed the dwarf off into the woods.
Chapter 19
The Boy and The Shaman
The morning sun was rising over the eastern sky. Fresh frost flecked the ground and the trees that formed a ring around the village. Soft plumes of smoke dotted the village skyline, a sign that the people were tucking into their breakfast for the day. Another long day of building and repair was to be on the agenda, though the arrival of twelve hearty dwarves would undoubtedly bring short work for all of them. In fact, the newly arrived guests to Rogers Village had already begun to pull their weight amongst the work that needed to be done.
During the night, the dwarves removed the bodies of the dead enemies and begun to erase any sign of battle. Now, each of the twelve dwarven warriors set out amongst the small town hauling great lumber here and there and making plans for new huts and shacks to be erected. However, Catherine had spent the night in the company of Tygahl, speaking at great length about their shared connection with the Father. She even went as far as to teach the Berserker how to pray to him in the dwarven manner. In the early morning hustle and bustle, no one paid any notice to the Shaman trotting along in the snow towards the woods beyond. Nor to the young Mage that followed behind him.
The Shaman led him for over half an hour deeper and deeper into the woods behind the village. The fresh snow crunched and cracked under their steps, the cold air pierced their lungs, yet they continued on in silence. Finally, they arrived at a slow running creek surrounded by vibrant blue and white flowers. Michael froze at the sight of them, for in all his journeying in the northern part of the White Kingdom, he had not seen any sign of life amongst the long-dead plant life.
The small dwarf stooped at the creek bed and brought a handful of frigid water to his mouth. A soft smile cracked through his ancient stone set face, the memory of some long-forgotten time and place taking hold of him. He turned and beckoned Michael to join him near the freezing clear water. Michael stared all around, trying to find a path forward before deciding to creep through the field, not wanting to disturb a single flower growing amongst the dead forest.
They stood silently in the glade for several minutes, observing the bright flowers blowing in the morning breeze. The tumultuous days and vision melted off the mage in this place. He breathed in the fresh smells and felt his soul finally be at peace.
At last, the dwarf said, “Brusgrik. In the dwarven language, my name is Brusgrik.”
Michael stared searchingly at the dwarf. “That is a fine name, Brusgrik.”
The dwarf continued staring motionless at the flowing creek before saying, “In the common tongue of your people, my name is Bruce. Bruce Stonehelm.”
“Very well, Bruce Stonehelm. What was your father’s name if I may ask?”
The dwarf bowed his head. “Frijigzah is my father, young one. Both in spirit and body.” He turned to face Michael and continued, “We older dwarves were not born by earthly means. We were molded and given life by the Father under the stone mountains across the sea. The children born amongst our people are the first truly born dwarves in the world. However, these young beards were not imbued with his divinity and spirit.”
“I did not know that,” Michael admitted.
“No one outside of our people knows these things, young one. We were born nigh on two thousand years ago, made in his image and willed to his purpose. We had no concept of time when we first awoke in the deep. For many years, we toiled and labored in the mountain halls under Narzeth and built many great and magnificent things. After a time, we ventured to the realm above, and met the Magi tribe.”
Michael’s face lit up in surprise. “The Magi ‘tribe’?”
“Aye. The land was fertile and green then. Not unlike the lands of this country. Magi roamed the outlands of Narzeth, in search of knowledge and understanding. Even then, they could touch magic but did not understand its power or purpose. We helped them build their library in the city of Beaumont so that they may practice their craft in peace.”
“We departed from them in peace, having given them all the knowledge we could. We continued to build and prosper, and stretched dwarven kingdom from one end of the continent to the other. As a reward, the Father blessed us with more and more brothers and sisters.”
The dwarf paused, a great emotion overtaking him. “Then one day, his will went silent to us, and we became as if children lost to their parents. It wasn’t long after that that they came and enslaved us into their war against the empire that would one day liberate us.”
Michael stood unmoving, unsure of what to say at hearing these words. Instead, Bruce continued, “Thank you for humoring an old dwarf, Michael. Now, I’m sure you have questions. And hopefully, I have answers to satisfy you with.”
In truth, Michael had a great many questions to ask the wizened dwarf. Yet each question seemed to collide with another, forming more and more questions. After much debate with himself on where to begin, he settled on asking the most immediate questions he had. “What did I see last night? Was it real or a dream or a vision or a prophecy? And most important of all, how was I able to see it at all?
Bruce sighed and sat down amongst the field. He began to feel the beautiful petals in his hard-worn hands, collecting his own thoughts on how best to answer the young Mage’s questions. “Normal wands and staves are as buckets you dip into the river. They can draw magic into them and be used for the wielders purpose. The Father’s wand is the dam at the mouth of the river, directly tied to the source of magic itself. When you brandished it in the manner you did, the full force and might of magic flowed into you. Normally, your training with the Magi would have slowly exposed you to it over time. But seeing as your training has ceased as of late, it has been impossible for you to do so.”
He eyed Michael hard and continued, “When you used the wand to defend the village, you took on year’s worth of magical power in the span of a few short minutes. The result, as you know, was your body fell into a deep unawakening slumber while it tried to
readjust and renew itself. Now that you have awakened, your body is now adapted to handling such astounding power. The interesting thing, and most mysterious of all, is after you felt the full power of magic, your mind’s eye was opened to all of magic. Both what it is capable of, and what it has done. What you saw in your slumber, I do not know. What I do know was that whatever you did perceive was only by the grace and power of taking on all the power you did and living to wake again.”
Michael joined Bruce on the ground, enthralled by all the information the dwarf seemed to possess. “Did magic direct me to those visions? Does it control us somehow?”
“No,” the dwarf replied with a chuckle. “No, magic does not control because magic is not a living force. Two thousand years of using and studying the mysteries of the arcane have taught us that. It flows everlasting from the World Beyond. Only by the power and will of mortals can you shape it and direct it to your purpose.”
Michael felt lost and stared at the ground beneath him before asking, “What happened to my eyes?”
“What you saw are things only a few others in all the history of the world have ever seen. Knowledge of that kind does not come without a price, young Mage. Be thankful the only payment you had to make was a simple change of the eyes.”
“Is that what Catherine meant in the village? ‘If you have but the eyes to see and the ears to hear.’”
Bruce let out a hearty laugh that shook the ground around them. “That woman and her words. She loves to give out little hints and riddles while herself knowing everything. Father bless me! She has driven me crazy since we were awoken in the mountain. And Father bless me that she will continue to drive me crazy till we are finally called home.”
Michael let out a faint laugh and asked, “Why does she do that then?”
“Because it is her way. If she just told us the answer, we would have never learned the lesson we needed to learn. She cannot tell us where to go and what to do. We would grind against her all-knowing wisdom and change things to ill pursuit. She must guide and let us all come to our purpose on our own. But enough of her, it’s not my place to speak on her behalf. What else do you wish to know?”
Michael pulled the wand from his robes and examined it. “Before I faced the Revenant, I felt this wand start to grow hot and burn inside my robes. Then, I felt it again when I conjured the power to stop the arrows.”
“I do not rightly know. But if I had to guess, I would say that wand knew it was needed.”
“It knew it was needed?” Michael repeated, trying to work out the dwarf’s words before pressing on, “How is it that twice now I’ve been able to conjure magic when I have not even learned to do what I did?”
Bruce shook his head. “I do not know. Instinct perhaps? You had read about the different magical properties, hadn’t you? Perhaps you willed the magic to what you wished it to do without realizing it. Or, perhaps, the Father was guiding your hand.”
“I did not think the gods and spirits in the beyond could tell us what to do.”
“They do not, Mage. Yet, I can offer no other explanations to you. We, as you imperials are prone to say, are in uncharted territory. Even all my knowledge and wisdom is at a loss.”
Frustration took hold of Michael, sending him to his feet. “Do you offer any answers for me at all, Shaman? The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve been able to do without any training. You’ve offered no answers! I don’t understand how any of it came to be. Nor what it meant!”
Bruce slowly stood and extended his palm to Michael. Michael observed him close before cautiously placing the wand in the dwarf’s rough hands. Bruce turned to face the water, and with a small flip of the wand, sent the stream of water flying high in the sky above them. He gave another flick, and the water was sent hurtling across the sky, spinning, and twisting as it went.
Michael’s frustrations melted away, and he began to smile at the beautiful display of magic. The sight of such elegant magic always moved him as if lost in the emotion of a lovely ballet. Bruce gave another flick, and the waters changed at once into a raging river of fire. Bruce spun the wand to and fro as if a conductor at the podium. He it above his head, sending the fire streaming further beyond into the mid-morning sky. But just as quickly, he thrust his arms down hard, sending the flames plummeting on top of them.
The fire burst around them, forming a thick eight-foot-tall ring of raging fire. The shock knocked Michael to the ground, as he cried out, “What are you doing? You are going to burn us to death!”
The dwarf smiled mischievously under his beard and, extending his hand, reached out into the fire pulling back a generous handful of roiling flame that sat within his palm. Michael stood, transfixed by this new display of power before him. To his surprise, Bruce began to approach him holding the burning fire out toward him. Once he was near him, the dwarf took hold of Michael’s hand and thrust the flaming ball into it.
Michael let out a loud wail before being silenced by the Shaman. “Do not scream if there is no pain, boy. Behold, your hand is unburnt against the flame.”
Michael looked at the fire in his hand, and to his surprise, saw that though a great ball of fire was in his palm, there was no pain or injury to him. A hearty excited laugh leapt out of his mouth, and he turned his eager black eyes to the dwarf holding the fireball aloft for him to see. Bruce smiled at the boy and gave another flick of the wand.
The fire that surrounded them now flew up above them. It turned and rolled about in the air until settling into the creek bed. Though the fire continued to burn violently, none of the flowers in the meadow around them were burnt. The fire that licked the petals in the groove seemed to not even move them as the wind had done. Bruce twirled and finally lowered the wand, and all at once, the fire seemed to grow clear and bright. The ferocity that it burned with slowed, and in an instant, the frigid running water had returned to the creek.
Michael remained frozen on the spot, his mind racing as he tried to process all that he had seen. Bruce returned to the creek bed and clutched a fistful of freezing water. He smiled at the Mage’s dumfound expression and threw the freezing water hard in the boy’s face, snapping him out of his daze. Michael stood blinking in the meadow, wet and frozen but excited and confused all at once.
Bruce extended the wand back to the Mage, who seized it and began to inspect it. To his immense surprise, as he held the wand to his face, a faint humming could be heard emitting from within the wood. He stood rooted in place, unsure of what to do next before asking the dwarf, “When can I begin to learn how to do that?”
The dwarf placed his rough hand on the boy’s arm and said, “We began the moment you woke this morning. But for now, I think it would be best that we return to the village. Undoubtedly, your friends would wish to speak with you, and with all you have been through and learned, they deserve to be fully reunited with you.”
Michael smiled at the Shaman and finally seized him in a great hug that pushed the air out of his body. The small stout dwarf was built like a boulder, but nevertheless, an incredible feeling of relief and happiness overcame Michael as he said, “Thank you, Bruce.”
Their embrace broke, and Bruce nodded in acknowledgment before moving to return to the village. As they walked, they talked about the nature of magic, and what it meant to both of their societies, and how they had long ago learned to harness its potential and bend it to their will. But when Michael asked about where their journey would take them, and what the best way forward to the outpost would be, Bruce grew silent.
“Many things have changed in your empire in such a small amount of time,” the dwarf said as they walked through the dead forest. “It is best you and your friends sort out the way forward, for even if you venture there and return, you might you have not a home to return to.”
“I saw the soldiers that attacked the village,” Michael said. “I saw the colors they wore and the banners that dotted the sky. I know what it means, and I know war is sure to come. But surely, we must press on as the
emperor commanded. Solving the mystery of magic must be of paramount importance.”
“You wish to obey the emperor’s orders because they match your own desires,” Bruce replied. “Though you may perceive an end goal, do not forget to observe the road that leads you there.”
“But the way forward in discovering what has happened to magic will, in the end, help the empire maintain its power and glory. And, if I’m being completely honest, the opportunity to learn the mysteries of magic and where your people went is too great to not explore.”
“The opportunity and knowledge gained from your endeavor could be significant, yes,” the dwarf replied with a sigh. “Yet, do you also wish not to stay in this village and continue your training? Many desires cloud your mind, yet you do not have a plan for seeing it done.”
“Well, what would you have me do then?” Michael asked.
“I am not your Master, Michael. I cannot, nor would not, command you to do anything that is against your desires. Your will is yours and yours alone. Yet, I would remind you that you are still a child of sixteen living in a world of men. As such, I would caution you against succumbing to your desires and seek patience and counsel with your friends.”
“But my friends, as hearty and skilled in battle as they are, have not seen what I have seen. Have not felt what I have felt, and surely cannot begin to understand the loss of magic has to not only our country but to the world itself.”
The Shaman stopped in an instant and glared hard at the boy. Michael could feel that he had said something that had upset the dwarf but could not begin to apologize for he had spoken his truth. The dwarf walked in front of the Mage, anger resonating from his gruff voice as he said, “Your companions, though I am loath to admit it, are the finest warriors in this country. The King’s Son has fought and killed scores of enemies in his time, and the Dragoon herself has survived the pits of the Narzeth. But more than that, they are leaders. The boy Tiberius has trained and studied to be the emperor of these lands. Has sat at the foot of his father and poured over the history of his people. You will not find a greater warrior and commander of men in the whole world. But a finer companion and leader and counselor for dark and terrible times, there is none as well.”
The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1 Page 23