Enchantress Awakening: Part One of the Book of Water (The Elemental Cycle 1)

by Whitmarsh, J. W.

  “There was still Caerddyn and Albion’s children. Could not the Kingdom have survived through them?”

  “They tried. Word spread of Benoc’s treachery and Albion’s death reaching the knightly orders who returned in great rage. Few stood by Benoc’s side when they came for him and few mourned or felt pity when his head was displayed above the gates of Helmgard.”

  “Do you feel pity for him?”

  “His betrayal of Albion was unforgiveable. I pity him for the desperation that led him to make his ill choices. No doubt if he’d known Albion was not dead he would have acted differently and then mayhap we would count him among the heroes of that time.”

  “He could have stepped back. He did not need to keep going after one mistake was made.”

  “Men find that most difficult. Could he trust Albion to be merciful to a man who had forced himself on his wife and threatened his children?”

  “He should have stopped long before that.”

  “I quite agree with you. Nevertheless, what had been set in motion could not be undone. Not merely with Albion. The knightly orders were changed. Where Albion could command over ten thousand men on horse his son, Culwich, had only a royal guard and the Secret Keepers to protect Helmgard.”

  “I never heard tale of Albion’s son as a child. Was he a bad king?”

  “No, he was merely young. He ruled for ten blameless years and wed a charming princess, Olwen. They had a child and hopes were raised for a restoration of all that was lost. Here at last we come to the matter of our tale, though I have come to this point as briefly as I might. Ranevark, Benifran and Caerddyn all supported the kingdom; they were not the only wizards though. Another group, the Coven, believed that magic should be used without restraint and that the gifted were not answerable to the mundane. During Albion’s reign they were driven from the Kingdom and, I believe, found refuge with Argahan through whose arts they survived beyond their normal span.”

  “You think the Oracle is one of them?”

  “I do and I believe she was not so different then from the crone you encountered.”

  “But this was nearly fifty years ago, that would make her over a hundred years old.”

  “Wizards have their ways of defying time. Remember the Coven now serve Argahan who is himself over a thousand years old. I digress from the tale, the Coven murdered Culwich, Olwen and their infant son. In this they precipitated all the persecution of wizard kind we have felt for the last five decades. Even in Helmgard the great library was set alight burning countless tomes and scrolls and, ultimately, the whole citadel.”

  “At least Caerddyn preserved some lore here.”

  “Yes, it was fortunate that not everything was stored in the same place.”

  “What of Caerddyn? His death is never mentioned.”

  “Ahh, well there are two common theories. The first is that the fall of the Kingdom broke him and he died a quiet, weary death away from the ills of the world.”

  “And the second?”

  “That he too was killed by the Coven. Ambushed in the very woods you passed through on your way hither and dragged into the body of a tree where even to this day you can hear his lament should you pass a particularly wizened and dark yew.” Tovrik smiled indulgently. “Which do you believe?”

  “Neither.” Caleigh said evenly.

  “Why so?” Tovrik asked in surprise.

  “I believe he was attacked. From all you describe the Coven would want him dead. And I believe that Caerddyn may have felt...how to say...removed? After the fall of all he held dear. So I can imagine he could use the attack as a cover to make people think he had died and in that time find some peace apart from the affairs of Kings.”

  “And thus he still wanders?”

  “No, he was touched by Loreliath and he had to believe that she would appear again someday. So he would travel under a different name waiting for a sign that she still had the power to reach us.”

  “A faked death, a change of name, you suppose much subterfuge.”

  “What is that?”

  “I mean you suppose Caerddyn going to great lengths to deceive people about his real purpose.”

  “I do.”

  “Why do you do so?”

  “All illusions are set to deceive and Caerddyn was the greatest illusionist of his day; as are you still.” Caleigh finished with a bold smile. Tovrik face split in a mixture of disbelief and laughter.

  “That is a theory not oft heard.” Tovrik shook his head and chuckled. “I must confess I never expected such an unravelling from a girl barely reached womanhood.”

  “You led me there; you set the clues upon the path.”

  “I did not expect you to meet the destination quite so soon.”

  “How many people know?”

  “None but you have made it plain. Cynric, who so loves the tales of Albion, has long suspected. Aldred must have questioned the concurrence of our talents.”

  “He presumed you were a relation.”

  “He told you that? Hmmm. Is that what convinced you?”

  “Not alone. I knew from the moment I told you of it that you too had met with Loreliath. The Tovrik I have seen since then is not the jester you display in your shows. Most of all it was Rosamund who convinced me.”

  “She has suspicions?”

  “No, but seeing just a little of her skills in your art revealed how simple a trick it would be for you to assume a role that tricks people into missing what should be so apparent. Today hearing you speak of the Kingdom, though you tried to do it plainly, I felt the pain of someone who was there at the time. That is the part I cannot fathom but you said yourself, wizards have their ways.”

  “You are correct in all but one assumption.”

  “What is that?”

  “It is no simple trick.” There was a twinkle in Tovrik’s eyes at this admission. “As with all things you see to the heart of the Art of Illusion. All illusionists are tricksters making play with things that are not there.” A solid dark grey sword appeared in Tovrik’s hand from coalescing smoke of the same hue. “Were I to swing this at you, do you imagine it would hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “It appears like a real sword with real weight and real edges.”

  “Yet you know it is not. You know with all your mind that it is an illusion.” Caleigh looked again at the sword and in parts it appeared less than solid, while its edges seem to lose some of their distinction. “So would it hurt?”

  “I believe so.”

  “As much as a real sword?”

  “No.”

  “Quite. I daresay this sword could still harm you, but that knowledge you possess would spare you from some harm.” The sword paled to translucence then vanished.

  “How is this different to summoning?”

  “It is a lie compared to the truth. If I could summon a sword it would be real, it would have crossed into the plain of reality like a newborn child. When an illusion is conjured it is always a lie and the bigger the lie the more power it takes to work it.” Tovrik held his palm aloft and a ball of purple fire erupted into life hanging several inches above the skin. Hot air radiated out from all around the leaping tongues of off colour flame.

  “Why is it purple?”

  “That is a good question that surprisingly few people ask. As it is a lie there is always some concession that has to be made to the lie. Most conjurers would bring forth a perfectly believable yellow and orange fire that would look most lifelike but lack any real heat. I choose to make a concession to the colour instead. As with most spells, the less reality has to be stretched the easier the spell is to cast and maintain.”

  “Is a purple flame not a bigger lie than a lifelike one?”

  “No, the flame itself is the lie; the unlikely colour gives people the chance to see the truth that it is, in fact, an illusion. Think of it in terms of your own art. Persuading someone to do something they want to do is fairly easy as you are asking them to be tr
ue to themselves. On the other hand, persuading someone to do something to which they are opposed requires them to accept a version of reality that is untrue, which is why is takes more power. You may wonder how I have lived so long, again the lie I have wrought makes concessions to the truth.”

  “Well, you do not look...err, one hundred?”

  “One hundred years and four and twenty, and I thank you for saying so.” Tovrik pulled out a wand from around the head of his staff, one of four he kept there. “I trust you not to speak of this spell to others. As far as I know, I am the only one who knows it.”

  “I shall not speak of it.”

  “I could look any way I please: I could appear beautiful, strong and youthful, I could take the form of a woman or a monster if I had the desire. Many illusionists can create a visage that is false but if you touch it you will feel the same flesh that was there before. Some can alter their form temporarily a few can even curse others to take the form of other creatures.”

  “You mean those tales of princes being turned into frogs are true?”

  “I have never heard of it happening to a prince but, in theory, such would be possible.”

  “Forever or just for a time?”

  “Well, if you recall the tale it is until he is kissed by a woman. With such curses there must always be a condition, some concession to the truth. Admittedly, it would take a powerful curse indeed to impose a condition that outlandish. Also, the mere act of turning a person into a frog would take a powerful wizard for similar reasons. A man and a frog are very different creatures.”

  “What would be an easy creature to change a man into?”

  “Something roughly man-sized and similar in anatomy.”

  “Such as...?”

  “A dog or a large hog, perhaps a large cat like a panther. Of all creatures that come to mind I imagine an ape would be the easiest thing, having limbs like unto a man.” Tovrik could see by her expression Caleigh had heard of neither a panther of an ape. “I shall lend you one of my books on animals so you can see for yourself.”

  “I would like that.”

  “In any event, I am straying from the point. There are a few wizards who can work curses such as these but I have yet to meet another who can change and maintain that change over time. Now, Caleigh, after all I have told you can you not guess how I have lived this long?”

  “I have an idea. Caerddyn was old when he disappeared but Tovrik was once a young man so you must have changed yourself into a young man.”

  “Quite so.”

  “But...?”

  “Why do I not stay young?”

  “Well...yes.”

  “It is hard for the young to understand I’m sure. Hard for most perhaps. Why would any, if they had the gift of eternal youth spurn it and allow themselves to grow old? I may not lack in intellectual vanity yet I can fairly say physical vanity is not one of my flaws. I only asked time to accept the lie of my youth once. Likewise, I did not change my features from those I had as a young man. Fortunately, even those old enough to remember Caerddyn are fooled easily enough by a change of hair and different beard and that requires no magic to keep up.”

  “So you are happy to let yourself age again. I admire that; most would use this power endlessly.”

  “Which is why I do not let everyone know I have this power. I think if I had stayed young some would start to notice and I would have no peace from demands to make everyone perfect and forever young. Yet I am not without some fear of ageing, the outside may wither over time but I keep my insides fresh. Otherwise, I would not have stood for this long boasting of my cleverness without a chair.” Tovrik finished with a chuckle. Caleigh smiled in union with him.

  “Could you keep people young if you wished?”

  “Maybe, for a time perhaps then I would have to work the spell over and again.”

  “I envy you this skill.”

  “Why? You are young and many times more beautiful than I ever was.”

  “Not for myself. I think more of Cynric’s wounded leg, of Ellie’s cousin, who was trodden on by an ox, of Dame Edith, feeling herself unable to match the youthful girls she imagines to be more deserving of her husband. What of Saebald, could this spell have mended his shredded lungs?”

  “Those are hard cases to answer.”

  “Forgive me, I did not mean to suggest that you should have done these things.”

  “Nonetheless, it deserves an answer for it is something you will have to face many times as your power grows. First of all, this power of mine does not heal and it does not always succeed, being as it is an immensely difficult spell to work. I have offered to help Cynric with his leg and he has no interest in it.”

  “Why?”

  “He received that wound on a day a score of his riders, close friends and kin amongst them, died. The wound itself he took saving a number more. To him his wound is a fair payment for being allowed to save those he did and a reminder of those he lost. Ellie’s cousin I cannot speak for other than to say the illusion may only work for so long, mayhap long enough for truthful healing to happen. Imagine I made him hale for a time only for him to fall back into ill health as soon as the spell faded. Would he thank me for reminding him of what he had lost? And Dame Edith, with her youth returned would still compare herself unfavourably with others for that is how she sees herself whether it is true or no.”

  “Yes, I think you are right.”

  “And with Saebald, I could not unshatter his bones nor unpierce his flesh. A metamorphosis of one who is hale and aware can be trial enough, to attempt to do so with a dying man would be futile.”

  “Then I can understand why you do not share this knowledge. When will you reveal to the others here that you are Caerddyn?”

  “You believe I should?”

  “I believe that our cause would be stronger if we could rally around Caerddyn as well as the message of Loreliath.”

  “That time may come, for the meantime secrecy aids us more than fame.”

  24. Control and Abandon

  The next week the lunchtime gathering was the busiest it had yet been in Elevered. In addition to the newcomers of Bryn and Rhiannon, Gideon had returned from his wanders in the west to re-join them at the table. Elevered as a castle was growing too, below the Enchanting wing of the library the potions room that was previously the sole domain of druidry was expanded to make room for Rhiannon’s new work and, likewise, the forge was given a further annex to house Bryn’s wares. Higher up in the castle further space was being made to create a common bathroom reminiscent of those they had encountered in Minerva after Caleigh convinced Caerddyn, or so she called him when in private, that some would prefer a larger space to wash than in the wooden tubs that were brought to their rooms.

  After lunch Caleigh went up to the practice room as per Tovrik’s instructions and to her slight surprise found not Vaughn but Gideon waiting for her. “It’s been a while, has it not?” Gideon said in way of greeting. “It seems like years. I thought you were relieved not to be teaching anymore or have you missed giving lessons?” Caleigh asked playfully.

  “I’ve missed my student a little perhaps but this was Vaughn’s suggestion. We want to work on improving your defences and he thought that would be better demonstrated by one whose defences can still outmatch your growing power. Vaughn is a good wizard so if he speaks truly you have indeed come a long way in a short time. Thusly this leaves only Tovrik, Mabon and myself. Mabon will continue your lessons eventually but we thought it best if you were able to start with someone more familiar.”

  “I know not what to say. I am shocked that Vaughn thinks I have progressed so far.”

  “Do not get too far ahead of yourself. Vaughn could still easily best you in a duel. Raw power is not everything.”

  “I doubt it not for a single moment.”

  “My apologies, I know you are not vain about your gift. I meant merely to remind you that talent, skill and craft are all different.”

  “I am sure,
for example Aethelbald can match me at duelling yet you do not reckon him highly as a wizard.”

  “I may have to revise my opinion on that. He has improved greatly since you arrived. I see you have your own wand now.”

  “Aldred made it for me.”

  “Then it will be of the highest quality. Use it to make a shield spell.” Caleigh held her wand out and about its tip the air rippled faintly to form a disk invisible to mundane eyes.

  “The shield spell is good but it can be broken.” Gideon flicked a shudder spark at the shield; the spark fizzled around where it touched eating up the energy field then disappearing “And does not provide protection against all kinds of spells.” Gideon lifted his palm and Caleigh became airborne for a second and then hit the ground again unsteadily. “That is why we need to be able to protect ourselves when our shielding fails. Reform the shield then cast a spell at me.” The shield shimmered into place then from Caleigh’s wand a spark flew at Gideon. No shield intercepted it and it travelled unimpeded to Gideon’s hand. On impact he shook his hand slightly but managed to hold onto his wand and maintain control. “Keep casting” He bid.

  “Enervate.” Caleigh cried and a pin width stream of white-blue energy arced at Gideon before being diverted on the edge of the wand into the wall where it dissipated harmlessly. At a nod from the older wizard Caleigh continued her attack. “Exanimate” A bolt of crackling red energy rushed from Caleigh’s wand with great speed hitting Gideon’s crossed palm and wand almost instantly and turning back with the same pace towards her coiling chaotically as it passed through her shield. She fell back weakly yet still retaining a full grip on her senses and from a sitting position looked up at Gideon quizzically.