“Did Delgart look like he did this morning, in this room, yesterday when you rescued him?” Myron asked Thal.
“No . . . ah, yes, I see,” Thal replied, “there must be a traitor in Shigmar, in this very place.”
“How do you figure that?” Klaybear asked, eyebrow rising.
“When I rescued this wethi–Delgart–from the ghelem, yesterday, and Myron brought him here, he was only wounded in the side, from the shipwreck, which means that he was given the disease by means of that metal sliver after arriving here in the school, so someone inside must have given it to him, during the night.”
“As I told Klaybear and his wife, earlier, he was fine when I left him in the sixteenth hour last night and found with the disease this morning in the 1st hour,” Myron said. “I sent Klare to inquire who had been in here during the night.”
Klaybear looked toward the door, an action that caused Myron to grin, but he covered it with one hand.
Thal noticed Klaybear’s action and looked at him. “Did you hear something?”
“No,” Klaybear replied.
“Then why did you look at the door?” Thal asked, eyebrows rising.
“My wife has perfect timing,” Klaybear replied, “she always shows up just when you need her, so when my master mentioned her, I expected her to walk through that door,” he finished, pointing to the door.
The door opened, but Klare did not enter. Master Healer Avril slipped in and softly closed the door. He looked at Myron. “I’m surprised you don’t have this room warded,” he said quietly.
Myron tapped his staff on the floor, whispered, and a gray shimmering globe expanded to cover the room. “We were healing, and I forgot to re-establish the ward.”
Avril winked at Klaybear. “That’s it then,” the Master Healer noted, a grin twitching on his lips, “first sign he’s slipping into dotage.”
Myron smiled. “I’ve had a few shocks this morning,” he said, “we all have. First Klaybear, then Delgart contracting the malady, these two showing up with the Waters of Life, and the Waters failing to heal them completely,” he pointed at each in turn and finished by pointing at the beds.
Avril moved to the beds, his hands now glowing with bright green light. As Klare had done earlier, Avril’s hands lifted the darkness for a moment from each body, but then the darkness slipped back. Avril’s brow wrinkled, then he moved to Klaybear, hands still glowing. A similar darkness peeked out of the younger kailu’s hand and forehead, then slipped back. He turned to the kortexi, hands going over his body and stopping over his chest. The same darkness rose from his chest for a moment before slipping back. Without comment, he moved to Thal, hands moving over him and hovering above his head, darkness slipping out and back. He turned to Myron.
“They’ve all been afflicted,” he said, “although in different ways.”
Myron nodded in agreement.
“The kortexi has the mark,” Avril continued, “written on his chest, and a different mark above his loins.” He turned to Thal. “With him it is much subtler,” he went on, “it is part of the patterns of his mind, hidden within the matrix and nearly impossible to detect. With the two in the beds, their faces together have been twisted into half the shape of the mark. Who else is supposed to be part of this group?”
“Klaybear’s twin brother, Rokwolf,” Myron said, “and Meekor and Varla’s son, who Klaybear found wounded outside of town last night.”
“That must be where Klare went,” Avril said, “I mentioned my suspicions and she must have gone home to check him or bring him here. If only there were more time,” the Master Healer finished to himself.
A thought occurred to Myron, and he turned to Klaybear. “How was the awemi wounded?”
“Cuts and bruises,” Klaybear replied, “from being dragged, he said, behind a horse.”
“Why do you say, ‘he said?’” Myron asked, an eyebrow rising slowly.
Klaybear shrugged. “Something about the way he said it made me think his account not quite accurate.”
Avril nodded. “Probably something like the maghi, there,” he said, pointing to Thal.
“Wait a minute,” Thal said, “I haven’t been wounded like them.”
“No,” Avril said, “more like ‘altered,’ very subtly.”
Thal’s face went red, a shade that clashed with the red of his hair. “Are you suggesting . . . ?” he began, but Avril cut him off.
“No,” Avril said.
Myron removed a pouch from inside his robe and took a curiously shaped, small metal device from the pouch. Cupping it in both hands, which he then raised to his lips, then whispered something into his hands. Opening his hands, the small object floated in the air; he raised his staff and said, “remelek.” The object shot forward, disappearing with a flash and pop before hitting a wall.
“My master has one of those!” Thal said, excitedly. “What is it? He would never tell me.”
“It is a special teka that your father and I created, as a way of communicating over great distances,” Myron replied.
“How long will it take?” Thal asked.
“It is already there,” the Headmaster replied.
“How did you create it?” Thal asked.
“If there were more time, I would tell you,” Myron replied. “We did carefully record the manner of its creation, so you can read about the method the next time you return home.”
“What message did you send?” Thal asked.
“A summons,” Myron replied, “he knows more about minds than anyone alive; we need his knowledge and abilities to unravel the mystery of why your mind, and possibly the awemi, Telvor, has been tampered with, and what it might mean.”
“I’ll go and open the door,” Avril said, moving toward the door, “and I’ll check on Klare.”
Myron nodded and fell silent. Klaybear moved to sit down and motioned that the others should follow. The younger kailu turned to Thal after they had pulled up chairs.
“Do you two have any idea what we are supposed to do?” Klaybear asked. Myron listened to them with half an ear, all the while wondering if Kalamar or Nelle had discovered the tampering with Thalamar’s mind, and if so, why had they done nothing about it?
“I was told on the Mountain,” Blakstar replied, “that we had to find three keys, of which my sword is the first.”
“Keys?” Klaybear asked. “Keys to what?”
The kortexi shrugged. “I was also told that I would fulfill the kortexi’s dream.”
“What is that?” Klaybear asked.
Blakstar shrugged again. “Since we are all about prowess in arms,” he said, “I would guess the defeat of some powerful champion of Gar in single combat.”
“Well, I have been able to deduce a few things,” Thal said. “Since Blakstar’s sword is the legendary sword of Sir Karble, and he was told there are three keys, the sword being one of them, the other two must be the rod of Melbarth, first white maghi, which sits in a case in Melbarth, and the staff of Shigmar, the first kailu. Also, since we–Blakstar and I–were sent here, to Shigmar, the obvious conclusion is that we must first acquire Shigmar’s staff.”
“Where do we find it?” Klaybear asked.
“I assumed you would know that,” Thal replied, “as a student of the order he founded.”
Klaybear turned to Myron. “Master, do you know anything about Shigmar’s staff?”
Myron held up his staff. “Here,” the Headmaster replied, “passed down from generation to generation, carried by the headmaster of his school.”
Thal jumped in, eagerly. “Does it have a name?” he asked.
One of Myron’s eyebrows went up. “What do you mean by a name?”
“A name written in the ancient language,” Thal replied. He turned to Blakstar. “Can I see your sword again?”
Blakstar shrugged. “Sure, what for?”
“I want to show the Headmaster its name,” Thal said, “then he’ll see what I mean.”
The kortexi pulled the swo
rd from its sheath, reversed it and handed it to Thal.
Thal took it, cradled it in one arm, and pointed to the words on the guard. “Here, you can see the words, in the ancient language, ‘eli-kerdu-ghebi,’ which, when translated, is will-giver of the One.”
“There is nothing like that on this staff,” Myron replied, “but this is not the only staff of Shigmar: this one is the staff of office, created specifically to run this school. His personal staff he took with him when he retired and returned to his estate.”
“Where was that?” Thal asked.
“Kalbant,” Klaybear put in, “my wife Klare is from there, and her family still lives there.”
Myron nodded. “During the last decade of his service to the school, he spent much of his time on his estate, but what he was doing he did not record, some project, he told the curious, that would reveal itself, in time.” Myron stopped for a moment, his brow wrinkling. “Let me see that name again.”
Thal pointed to the words imprinted into the sword’s cross guard. The older kailu tapped the center word for a moment and then smiled.
“Do you know much about the seklesem, particularly, their history?” he asked.
“I know they came later,” Thal said, “after the original three.”
Myron nodded. “The first of Gar’s minions emerged from the underworld and Shigmar, Karble, and Melbarth were far separated, each establishing and directing their respective orders, unable to respond quickly to calls for help from the others. Gar’s servants were slowly destroying each of them. Each order was too specialized, and Gar exploited their weaknesses. The three decided they needed a fourth order, one that was a mixture of the three and so, better able to fight the attacking forces.”
“What does this have to do with the name of my sword?” Blakstar asked, looking quite puzzled.
“Do you know the seklesi motto?” Myron asked.
Thal returned the sword to the kortexi, who slid it back into its sheath with a steely hiss. “Everyone knows that,” Thal said, “it is written on all their flags: kerdu . . . of course!” he snapped, interrupting himself. “Kerdu gwehru menu are oino” he continued, “‘will, breath, and thought, fit together as one,’ a mixture of the three original orders of good: will-giver,” he pointed to Blakstar, “breath-giver,” pointing to Klaybear, “and thought-giver,” pointing to himself. “So Melbarth’s rod must be named eli-menu-ghebi, thought-giver of the One, and Shigmar’s staff must be eli-gwehru-ghebi, breath-giver of the One.”
“Breath-giver?” Blakstar asked, “what does that mean?”
“Well, like the sword, ‘will-giver’ is a metaphor for courage,” Thal replied, “‘breath-giver’ is a metaphor for life, and ‘thought-giver’ a metaphor for mind.” Thal sank back into his chair, suddenly speechless.
As Thal was sinking, Klaybear stood up. “Master,” his voice hissed, “remember my vision–is it possible that Shigmar’s staff can bring people back from the dead? We are taught that it is impossible . . . ,” his voice trailed off.
“Mind-control,” Thal mumbled, “Melbarth’s rod can control minds, so it must be the only thing that could have written the mark upon my brain patterns–a mark of evil would only be inscribed by someone evil, so the rod must be in the hands of the enemy, except I, myself, have seen it in the central hall of the school . . . ,” he stopped, suddenly recognizing that he had spoken aloud.
Myron started to speak but stopped when the door opened. Avril came in, quickly closing the door behind him. He stood by the door, holding something in his hand; his face was ashen.
“What has happened?” Myron asked, suddenly afraid.
Avril shook himself, then took a deep breath and let it escape slowly. Some of the color returned to his face. “I went first to your study and then climbed up to the roof.” He moved slowly to stand beside Myron. “I found these, lying on the stone. They were hot when I first touched them.” Avril opened his hand and dropped two iron symbols into Myron’s open hand.
Myron glanced at the symbols, feeling a stab of pain, and sighed. “So it has happened then,” he whispered to Avril, “just as we had foreseen.”
“Shortly after I found them,” Avril said, “your sending returned. I left the roof then, to find out if Klare left the school and went home, as I thought. I left my younger apprentice in charge before I came here. I checked with her, and she did not see Klare leave.”
“So she must still be in the school,” Myron noted.
Avril nodded. “No one has seen her since she spoke to me.”
“Klare’s missing?” Klaybear asked, standing up and looking worried.
“It is a big place,” Myron said, trying to reassure him, “she could have found out who was on duty here last night and gone to question that person.”
Klaybear sat down slowly. Myron started to rise, but Avril stopped him.
“There’s more,” Avril said, lowering his voice. “Ghelvon has the votes.”
Myron’s face drained of all color. “How can that be?” he whispered. “We have not met. . . .”
“He went to the glade, at the insistence of his apprentice, and found the altar toppled,” Avril went on, “and the mark burned into its top.”
“We have to tell Thal what has happened,” Myron said, changing the subject and suddenly feeling the burden of his office and the weight of his years threatening to crush him. He held up his hand to stop Avril, leaning heavily on his staff with the other. “One crisis at a time; you go look for Klare. I’ll tell Thal.”
Avril paused a moment before nodding his agreement. He turned to the younger wethem, who had not noticed or heard the last exchange between Myron and Avril. He laid his green-glowing hands on the white maghi’s head, letting feelings of hope and comfort flow from his hands into the young maghi. After a moment, he took his hands away.
Thal looked up, wonder and surprise in his eyes. “Why did you do that?”
Avril did not answer. He let one hand fall to Thal’s shoulder, squeezed it, then turned and left the room without another word. Myron took Avril’s place, placing one hand on the same shoulder.
“I’m sorry to be the one to tell, Thal, for they were dear friends of mine,” he said, holding out the two iron symbols of Melbarth for Thal, “your parents are dead.”
Thal accepted the symbols and stared at them. “No . . . , how do you . . . , that’s impossible!”
“Years ago,” Myron began, “when I was young and before I knew your mother and father, I had just finished my studies and become a kailu. I had a vision in which I saw, among other things, a pair of white-haired maghem, standing on top of a tower, embracing, then they were surrounded by red fire, and consumed. Your father and mother both saw a similar vision, and your father knew that it would happen soon after a kortexi came to the tower bearing the devices of Sir Karble. That is why you two were rushed off without an explanation: to keep the two of you from being captured and destroyed by Gar. Your parents sacrificed their lives so that you could live to become the instruments of Gar’s defeat.”
Thal sank to the floor, still staring at the two symbols. “No,” he chanted to himself in a low voice, “it cannot be true; it cannot be. . . .” He sat huddled on the floor, still staring at the symbols, eyes wet, continuing to chant, “it cannot be. . . .”
Myron turned to Klaybear and Blakstar. “Stay here with him; there is something. . . ,” he started to say, but the door opened again. A large kailu with black hair, gray at the temples, entered followed by his apprentice and several other council members. The large kailu’s apprentice was tucking an orange-silk handkerchief into a pocket; one corner of his mouth twitched as if he was about to smile.
“It is my sad duty,” the large kailu said, “to arrest your apprentice, Headmaster. He has sold himself to Gar and desecrated our sacred glade. His trial will begin as soon as the mekala can gather. Surrender your staff, Klaybear.”
Ghelvon stepped forward, flanked by two council members, hand outstretched. Blakstar look
ed to Myron and moved his hand closer to the hilt of his sword; the Headmaster shook his head slightly, and the kortexi let his hand fall. Klaybear was too stunned to protest and allowed the staff to be taken from his limp fingers. Ghelvon’s apprentice motioned someone forward, then helped him to lock manacles and chains around Klaybear’s wrists and ankles. They led him from the room. Thal sat huddled on the floor, oblivious to what had happened, eyes wet, and still chanting, “it cannot be; it cannot be. . . .”
Chapter 12
We are aware of eight elemental forces: earth, air, water, fire, ice, time, Void, and light. When used together, these forces produce power that enables the maghi to work ortheks. We suspect, however, that there exist older and more powerful teka then these simple toys we use. . . .
from the Annals of Melbarth, Second Series, Early Lectures of the Hierarchs,
Lecture by Sedra Melbarth
Myron stood next to Avril, both kailum looking at the altar in the sacred glade of the kailum.
“Are you certain?” Myron asked.
“Yes,” Avril replied. “Ghelvon’s apprentice was quite clear that they had come here early this morning and found the altar destroyed.”
Myron stroked the altar’s flat stone surface. “Even the mark has nearly faded,” he said softly. “By tomorrow morning, it will have faded completely.”
“Why would Ghelvon repair the altar,” Avril asked, “when he plans to use it as evidence against your apprentice?”
Myron shook his head. “He did not repair it.”
“Who did?” Avril asked.
Myron shrugged. “There is no precedent.”
“Nothing in the histories?”
“Nothing.” Myron tapped the surface of the altar with his fingers. “Perhaps it is the power of the glade itself that repairs the altar.”
Avril held both hands over the altar, moving them slowly over the altar’s surface. “There is a hint of . . . something,” Avril said, “but it is deep, barely detectable, and . . . old, so old that my own life would pass a thousand times if it but blinks.” He lowered his hands slowly to his sides. “Will it make any difference for Klaybear?”
The Redemption, Volume 1 Page 18