“Beautiful, yes?” Felistal asked. “It’s where I come to meditate.”
The threads of light danced across the floor as if blown by a gentle breeze, and the air was pleasantly cool and dry. A large round cushion was placed at the base of the wheel, depressed from many hours of use.
“Did you build this?” An odd sensation seeped into her flesh, causing it to tingle.
Felistal patted her hand and smiled. “Spirits, no. The enclave has been here since the split. And this is its heart, so to speak. You might be able to feel the magic radiating from the ceiling.”
She rubbed her arms. “Yes. It’s a bit unsettling, to be honest.”
“It was for me too the first time I came here. Here the veil between worlds is thin. It was why the ancient Thaumas chose it to build their home.”
“Veil? What veil?”
“This world is not all that exists,” he told her, gesturing for her to approach the wheel. “There is a realm unseen, one that we cannot touch. And yet we experience it each day. None more so than the Thaumas.”
“Where is it? What is it?”
“It is here. All around you. It exists in tandem with Lamoria, its power sifting through the veil, filling the world with magic.”
“But I thought life creates magic.” This was the answer Loria had given when she’d asked about the source of their power. It was unsatisfactory, but Loria had claimed that was as much as she knew, so she didn’t press the issue, deeming it unimportant at the time.
“Yes … and no. The power you understand as magic enables life to thrive. All the while, life alters the nature of magic and allows humankind to experience it directly. Those of us who have the gift can manipulate this power. But even those who do not are a part of it.”
The concept was difficult. “Why can’t we see this world?”
“I don’t have all the answers, I’m afraid. I know it’s there because I can sense its presence. How it was found and why it is hidden are mysteries only one person has discovered. And he is long since departed this world.”
“Who?”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “Kylor, of course.” Mariyah returned his grin with an incredulous look. “You didn’t think the church rose from mere fantasy, did you?”
“But … that’s not possible. Kylor was a man? A real man?”
“A man? Perhaps. Maybe Kylor was a woman. Or both. Or neither. It doesn’t so much matter what Kylor was. It’s who Kylor was that’s important.”
Mariyah could not accept what she was being told. Kylor—a real person. She stepped to the wheel and traced the rune of the first ascension with her finger. “Are you telling me that Kylor built this place?”
“He did live here for a time. But it was Belkar who built it.”
Mariyah spun on her heels. “Belkar? This is his?”
Felistal held up his hands. “Be calm. Belkar built this place, but he didn’t do it alone. And it does not serve his will.”
“I think you’d better tell me what this is. And who—or what—the hell we’re fighting.”
Felistal dipped his head toward the statue of the lutist. “Do you recognize it?”
She examined the figure carefully. “Yes. It’s like the one Lem’s mother kept on the mantle. Not exactly the same, but close. He took it down after she died. I’ve no idea what he did with it.”
“And the other statue?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Not surprising. The founders of your home wouldn’t have wanted the reminder.”
“You know who founded Vylari?”
“Yes.” He eased his way onto the cushion, his joints cracking again in protest.
Mariyah knelt beside him, baffled. “How could you know when we don’t?”
“I couldn’t say for sure why the knowledge wasn’t passed down. But if I had to guess: shame.”
“Why would my people feel shame? We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Of course not,” he said, his warm tone neither accusing nor judgmental. “But long ago, there was an upheaval among the Thaumas. In the days of Kylor, the Order was very different. We combined the magic of the physical world with that of the spirit.”
“You mean healing and divination?”
Felistal nodded. “In part.”
“Loria told me that true healing was a lost art, and that divination was a gift few possessed.”
“She told you correctly,” he affirmed. “The last to possess it was a woman name Oryel. It was she who convinced us to seek out Vylari.”
“I think she knew Lem’s mother,” Mariyah said excitedly. “Is she here?”
“Sadly, she passed away a few years back.” The sorrow in his eyes said that he had known her well.
“How is Belkar using divination?” Mariyah asked.
“Let’s hope he’s not. But divination is only a small part of the magic I speak of. And in truth, not the most reliable. Otherwise we wouldn’t be in the danger we find ourselves.”
“Then how is he doing it?”
“Belkar was able to … I suppose invade is as good a word as any … he was able to invade the realm of the spirit and steal a portion of its power for himself. In this way, he made himself immortal. It is that same power he uses to contact you.”
“If you know how he does it,” Mariyah said, “then you know how to stop him.”
“I understand it,” Felistal replied. “But I can’t wield it. No one can. I can prevent him from invading your thoughts. But that’s all.”
“Is there a way to … invade the same way he did?”
Felistal’s expression hardened. “No. And it is forbidden to try.”
Mariyah wilted slightly under his sudden severe rebuke. Though old and kindly, he could affect an imposing figure when he was provoked. But Mariyah would not be daunted and quickly recovered her nerve. “If it saves us, why not at least try?”
Felistal was visibly unsettled by the suggestion. “Belkar was driven mad by his obsession with immortality. It nearly destroyed the entire world. I’ll not see one evil replaced by another.”
“Then how do we fight him?”
His posture contracted as he let out a long, sad breath. “I don’t know that we can. Without the bards, we are vastly diminished.”
Mariyah creased her brow. “What do the bards have to do with it?”
“They were the reason for Belkar’s rise. It was through their magic that he was able to open the realm of the spirit and steal its power.”
“Bards don’t use magic,” she said skeptically.
“The bards of today surely not,” he explained. “But that was not always the case. Long ago, Thaumas and bard were as one. The Thaumas with the power to alter the world of stone and fire; the bard, bringer of joy and healing. Alone, they could create wonders. But together … it was a power unlike anything you can imagine.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this?” Mariyah asked.
Felistal’s kindly demeanor returned and he took Mariyah’s hand. “There are many histories that are all but lost. Only a few of us take the time to learn them. Most of the Thaumas are completely ignorant of our own origins. They know only that we were brought together by Kylor as a single unified order. It’s those of us who delve deeper who know that we were but one half of a whole. It was Kylor who taught us to combine our gifts for the benefit of Lamoria. To heal the land on a scale unimagined. To cure terrible plagues. To ease the troubled souls of entire nations.”
Mariyah could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “Spirits! You make it sound like it was a paradise.”
“It could have been,” he said. “Unfortunately, humankind was just as violent and stupid as they are today. The monarchs of Lamoria distrusted Kylor, suspecting that he had designs to rule. It was untrue, of course. But that didn’t stop them from refusing help from the Order. And Kylor would not force it upon them.”
“But if people were suffering,” Mariyah said, “how could he not?”
“That wa
s Belkar’s belief as well,” he replied.
“So that’s why he killed Kylor?”
“No. That happened later. But he did defy his will. Word arrived that a village was being ravaged by a terrible fever. Kylor naturally offered his help, but the queen refused outright. Belkar tried to convince Kylor to disobey the queen’s wishes. But Kylor told him no, and forbade him from taking action on his own. Enraged, Belkar convinced a small group of Thaumas and bards to sneak away and help the villagers.”
“I know Belkar is the enemy,” Mariyah said. “But I think he was right. How can you do nothing when people are dying?”
“Because it didn’t end there. The queen, furious that the Order acted against her wishes, sent soldiers to slaughter the entire village.”
Mariyah was horrified. “Why would she do something like that?”
“To defend her rule. In her mind, Kylor had directly challenged her authority. And she silenced anyone who could possibly tell people of Kylor’s generosity and kindness. A predictable reaction; one that Kylor had foreseen.”
“And Belkar?”
“He was forced to admit his mistake. Kylor forgave him, but it started Belkar down the road of rebellion and eventual destruction.”
“What about the bards? How did they get involved?”
“You need to understand that what I know has been pieced together over the centuries. So far what I’ve told you I believe to be accurate. But there is much we don’t know. Contradictions abound. Some accounts say that the bards convinced Belkar to leave the Order, others that Belkar was the one who lured them away. What is known is that over time, Belkar became suspicious of Kylor.”
“Suspicious?” Mariyah asked.
“You see, Kylor never aged. Most believed that it was because he could use both bard and Thaumas magic. Kylor himself never claimed immortality and said that even he would one day grow old and die. But Belkar did not believe him and accused his master of keeping the secret to eternal life hidden. Many of the bards thought the same. That was what began the upheaval.” He rubbed some stiffness from his neck. “Tragically, the war itself destroyed most of the records of that time. But it ended with the remainder of the Thaumas and bards in a final battle against Belkar. But having discovered the secret he had sought, all they could do was imprison him.”
“So Kylor was hiding the secret to immortality?”
“Perhaps. But as he died during the war, it seems unlikely.”
Mariyah shook her head in astonishment. To think the bards had once used magic! And that it was somehow different from that of the Thaumas. “If the bards helped defeat Belkar, why did they leave Lamoria?”
“The world was in ashes,” Felistal explained. “Millions dead. The bards who had joined Belkar were dead too. But it didn’t matter. Those who remained loyal were looked upon with suspicion and hatred. It sounds unfair, I know. But the Thaumas still blamed the bards for his rise. Eventually, they fled and founded your homeland, erecting a barrier so to keep them safe. More than that, I don’t know.”
“But the bards weren’t at fault,” Mariyah said.
“Weren’t they? Without their magic, Belkar would have been cast down. We wouldn’t be facing the very same danger today.” He met Mariyah’s eyes. “I’m not saying that your people are at fault. They know nothing of this. But it was either bard arrogance or their gullibility that has doomed humankind.”
“What about the bards of today?”
“Musicians. Fine musicians. But still, nothing more than that. Their magic is gone forever. And from what you’ve told me, that was by design. No more bards have arisen in Lamoria since, and you say magic is reviled in Vylari. Clearly they were wise enough in the end to not want their descendants to repeat their mistakes.”
Mariyah turned to the statue. Aside from there being a lute rather than a balisari, it reminded her of Lem. “What if they returned?”
“A curious question,” Felistal said. “But I don’t see how they could. I really don’t know if they should.”
“Why?”
“Because your ancestors were right. The power cannot be permitted to reemerge. The potential for abuse is too great.” Felistal waved his hand in a series of circles. The markings on the wheel began to glow with a pale blue light, and tiny threads wound toward the center. The black disk, once smooth and unblemished, now bore the Eye of Kylor. “The thirteen ascensions.”
Mariyah stood. “But there are only twelve.”
“Now there are only twelve. But in the age of Kylor, one more existed. While bard and Thaumas could combine their powers, there were rare instances when they would be truly joined. It was their strength Belkar coveted most.”
“You say it’s too dangerous. But if it can help us…”
“No.” His tone hardened, and his eyes shifted to the black disk. “It was once thought bard magic could only be used for good. They were healers; bringers of joy. Even without the Thaumas, their power was great. A powerful bard could settle the fury of entire armies by merely playing a song over the battlefield, or bring joy to a starving village with but a few simple notes. But under Belkar’s influence, it was discovered that for everything, there is an opposite. As they could heal life, so they learned to destroy it. Where there was hope, they could bring despair. Where they could bring about peace, they could inspire war. No one should wield such terrible power. It cannot—must not be permitted. And it is our sacred charge to see that they never return.”
Mariyah turned to face him. “So you would kill anyone who possessed the gift?”
He waved his hand again, and the light from the wheel faded. “In truth, I don’t know what I would do. I’m not sure I could kill someone over something they can’t control. Luckily, no one has been found to have the gift in all these many centuries.”
She returned her gaze to the statue. Lem. Could he … No. Surely not.
“Your young friend, the one from Vylari. You mentioned that he’s a musician, yes?”
“Lem has nothing to do with this. He’s not a bard.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “I was only asking out of curiosity, given that his mother once lived here.”
“Yes.” A thought occurred. “The man she was with. He wouldn’t still be here, would he?”
“Unfortunately not. He left the Order shortly after she disappeared. I believe he was trying to find her. What became of him, I couldn’t say.”
“What was his name?”
“Yularius.”
The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“That’s enough dark talk for now,” Felistal said, holding out his hand to Mariyah.
Mariyah helped him to his feet.
“I do not recommend old age, my dear,” he groaned.
“That’s what Belkar thought too,” Mariyah said.
Felistal laughed. “Indeed. Now, then. You are having a problem with transmutation, if the letters from Loria are accurate.”
Mariyah sniffed. “The problem isn’t with me.”
“Everyone thinks that.” He held a finger to the side of his nose. “Until they don’t.”
Mariyah rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. You sound just like her.”
This drew a chuckle. “Actually, it is she who sounds like me. In any case, we need to address the issue of your connection with Belkar.”
He shuffled back into his study on unsteady legs, gratefully accepting Mariyah’s aid in reaching his chair. “I believe it was the pendant he sent you through his followers that first established it, and he’s somehow kept a link between you since then. I can show you a simple charm that should protect you for a few days at a time.”
He spent a few minutes teaching her a protection charm that would shield her thoughts. Mind invasion was a technique Loria had yet to show her, but she understood the principle. A crude form of gathering information, Loria had said. And unreliable. It was often impossible to tell the difference between what the target of the spell knew and what lay dormant in
their imagination. Moreover, it could cause great harm even when cast by a master, leaving the person invaded permanently insane.
“Is there more you can tell me about Kylor and Belkar?” she asked, once the spell was committed to memory.
“There are stories; tales of their lives and struggles. Fictions, mostly, but interesting. I can provide you with a few books, if you like. Assuming you have the energy to read after your lessons. Transmutation can be draining.”
“Yes. Thank you.” She handed him his glass when she saw him wince while bending to pick it up. He smiled at her, then leaned heavily back. “If Ralmarstad is moving, Loria will need me. How long do you think I’ll have to be here?”
“There was a time when Loria Camdon needed no one,” he said, speaking into his glass. “I’m happy she has you. But it will take what it takes. There is no set time. But you shouldn’t worry over Loria. If the worst happens, she knows what to do.”
Felistal continued peering into his glass, consumed by thought.
After a few minutes of silence, Mariyah stood. “I should let you rest.”
Felistal pulled away from his musings, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yes. Of course. Forgive my rudeness.”
Mariyah bowed and exited the room. Her mind was still reeling over what she’d learned. Bards and Thaumas. Kylor and Belkar. How was it that so many important events remained hidden? Kylor in particular. A living person, now worshiped as a god. How could people be so ignorant? It didn’t seem possible. But then if what Felistal had said was true, Vylari was the most ignorant of all. Survivors of a conflict that nearly laid waste to the world, and not a single page written in any of their histories. Were they really ashamed, as Felistal suggested? Or perhaps afraid that their children would try to one day return, and be slain by the Thaumas?
She felt dizzy. Every drop of knowledge was accompanied by a deluge of new questions. But they would need to remain unanswered for a time.
“You’re here now,” she said, increasing her pace. “Do what you came to do and get back.”
If that meant suffering the company of the woman who had haunted her dreams, so be it. She would do precisely what Loria would do: Ignore her pain and focus on her duty.
A Chorus of Fire Page 16