- she did not go into details. The blue shredded her wings and dropped her from a great height. When she smashed her head against the terrible jagged rocks below, the Elder Dragon essence flew from her body, searching out the next host. It always chose the dragon with the best skills within that particular Elder's field of expertise. In this case, ironically, the Elder Dragon's own killer was the best and therefore chosen - her murderous actions being irrelevant to the magic.
The change had not been immediate, but gradually over days and weeks, she noticed some of her scales were changing colour, and her thought patterns, her attitudes changed with them. In the end, she gained all the knowledge of the Elder Dragons, and developed an overwhelming desire to improve her skills, although she mostly had that already– that’s why she was the best. She had no idea that within the lifetime of this body, a Penta Drauka challenger would come along, asking for her instruction.
“Now that you have,” she concluded with a toothy smile, “I'm delighted to meet you.”
Sir Marcus gazed at the dragon, eyes filled with a mixture of admiration for who and what she was, and sadness as he realised they would be parting. It was not necessary to ask what the Elder Dragon of Air was doing effectively grounded with a bunch of Knights. The answer clearly lay in the person of Supreme Knight Commander Sir Marcus Braithwaite.
“Now, Candidate Loric, are you ready to learn what I have to teach?”
“I'm ready,” he agreed. “What exactly are you going to teach me? Fire was about accessing the Fire Rage in combat, so Air is...what?”
“Can't you guess? Silvers, blues and sapphires: what do they do best?”
“That's easy: flying...you mean, you're going to teach me to fly? Excuse me, but I already know how to do that!” “Arrogant pup!” spat the Elder, eyes flashing with a vehemence that forced everyone - Loric included back a pace or two. “An attitude like that will get you and your friend killed. Are you willing to learn or not? If you'd like, I could simply test you now...test you and fail you. You know what happens then, don't you?”
He did indeed. Learning the Penta Drauka skills was a task with no time limit. A candidate could spend years on each part, if necessary. After all, what was time to a dragon? But each section could only be attempted once. Failure of any part was failure of the whole. The failed candidate would forget all previous, successful Penta Drauka skills and would be magically barred from making contact with any of the Elder Dragons for a second attempt.
Loric couldn't risk failure - there was too much at stake. So, as difficult as it was for him, he managed to swallow his pride and apologise. “My outburst was disrespectful and unwarranted. Please accept my apologies and tell me more.”
The Elder bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement.
“See?” Phaer whispered. “You can be diplomatic when you try.”
“You have learned the Fire Rage only recently, yes?” The Elder continued, paying his comment no heed.
“Yes.”
“I see. Before that, were you never angry?”
“Are you kidding? I'm an obsidian -we're born angry. Spit first, clean up the mess later!”
“So why did you need the Fire Rage, if you already knew how to get angry?” “It's a completely different thing, you can't even begin to compare them.” “Precisely. So it is with my Air Flight: of course you already know how to fly, just as you always knew how to get angry, but that does not begin to compare with this second segment of the Penta Drauka.”
Loric was suitably admonished. “Now then,” the Elder continued with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I feel for your friend Callie's terrible plight, so I'm going to help you by taking you directly to the next Elder - the Elder Dragon of Water. Hopefully he will teach you how to heal her. Of course, you won't be able to truly practise your skills to that degree until you pass all five tests, but-”
“-Wait a minute!” Loric objected. “Don't think I'm not grateful, but the Fire Elder told me that you can't interfere.” “Bah!” The Air Elder dismissed the issue with a wave of her left wing, which sent up a cloud of dust and sand that started off a coughing fit in her mortal audience. She apologised before continuing, “The Fire Elder is an old stick-in-the-mud. His trouble is, he's the original Elder Dragon of Fire - the only one of the five still living. He's so ancient he practically pre-dates the volcanic mountains of his realm! I suppose it's not surprising that he's set in his ways.
“Don't get me wrong; in the strictest sense, he's quite right: we can't interfere, but you'll probably find that the rest of us are a little more...flexible in our views of what constitutes interfering. The way I see it, teaching my skills necessitates flying; it matters not a bit which direction we choose so we might as well head in the direction of the Ocean. Where's the interference in that?”
Chapter 20
Upon reflection, Granite Longbeard supposed he ought to be delighted to be there. After all, he was a dwarf in an astounding underground construction, built by incredibly skilled hands and minds and magic - and best of all, many of the walls were made of gold. Most of his peers, if given a description of this place, would consider it to be nothing less than the dwarven afterlife. But this was not heaven and Granite was not in the afterlife. He couldn't possibly be in the afterlife because he wasn't dead, and he knew he wasn't dead by the way his skin crawled. It was a haunted house, this place; he was absolutely sure of it. Well, maybe not absolutely sure - not sure enough to tell anyone else at any rate. Besides, a dwarf was entitled to keep his own counsel. An outsider couldn't appreciate his peculiar sensibilities. If his dwarven sixth sense told him this was a haunted house, then that's exactly what it was. He didn't share the information; they'd only ask for proof. A dwarf didn't need proof about such things. A heavy dose of instinct would do nicely.
Then again, he briefly entertained the notion that it could just be this peculiar tunnel attacking his dwarven sensibilities. The walls here were not made of pure gold. In fact, at first glance they appeared to be made of wood. Further inspection from his Catalyst eyes and dwarven hands, however, revealed that gold was in there somewhere, too. Fully incorporated into living tissue - and yes it was still living - was gold. He supposed one could call it a wood-gold alloy, were such a thing not utterly impossible. It offended his dwarven love of pure ores and metals to see transient, decaying plant life contaminating it. Wood from a haunted forest, no doubt. Even the lights were haunted: torches all along the walls to either side sprang to life as they approached, and dimmed and faded as they moved beyond.
Eilidh had regarded it assimply, “An eminently sensible lighting system.” “Sensible? Bah!” Spooked, that's what it was. Dwarf cities had very little lighting - dwarf night vision being what it was - but what lights there were became lit and were extinguished when one told them to. That was sensible. This was just...haunted.
Haunted or not, the four companions walked purposefully down the passageways and tunnels, the torches giving each of them a double diagonal shadow, forming an arrowhead behind them. Granite didn't like that, either - too much like having a target stuck to one's back. And for what? They were on a hunt for the-gods-knew-what in this forgotten underground temple, purely on the word of some old hermit. Granite was still seething over the man's audacity at suggesting that the magical profession he had devoted his life to was nothing more than a convenient form of sentient familiar. The so-called Wise One was totally wrong about that.
It was symptomatic, the dwarf decided, of a wider misconception. Everybody feared and respected the overtly powerful Orders of magic, especially Enforcers and the three double-u's: wizards, witches and warlocks. Poor Catalysts, though, had no power of their own. They could only Grant Life to `real mages` and then stand back and watch. But what people didn't realise was that this role and function put Catalysts in an unrivalled position of strength. Without Catalysts, the wizards, witches and warlocks - even the almighty Enforcers - were nothing. Without the Life that Catalysts willingly chose to Grant to
them, they had no way of casting the powerful spells they learned. To Granite's way of thinking, Catalysts were the proverbial power behind the throne. Indirectly, a Catalyst could cast any spell in any Order of any of the Nine Secrets - a feat that no other mage could achieve.
“Mere familiars?” Granite grumbled quietly to himself. “I dinnae think so.”
Still, the dwarf supposed he ought to be grateful for small mercies: at least there weren't any ore golems down here. His previous encounter with one had almost turned his beard white. Eilidh was also thinking about the Marina Fells mine and getting something of a sense of déjà-vu. Once again there was a definite pattern to these tunnels. A magical pattern. In the classroom, it was called a Life Flow Diagram, being quite simply the pattern made by the flow of Life when casting a particular spell. She didn't quite recognise the pattern. She was sure she had seen it at some point during her church studies, but it was vague, obscure, shrouded. As they went a little further, a cursory glance inside the few small rooms to each side revealed nothing of any real interest. It seemed as if they had once been sleeping quarters, back when this temple had been in regular use.
During her scholastic studies, the young woman had often found that it was possible to think too hard. She was doing it now, she realised, focussing too much on the problem, on what she didn't know or couldn't remember. Slowing her breathing, she forced herself to relax, and allowed what she did know and did remember to fill her mind.
OK, she thought, never mind what the symbol represents, just focus on the shape, the form, the diagram.
Yes, the image was becoming clearer now, accompanied by the words of her favourite tutor: Visualisation, not memorisation. Relaxed concentration was a skill he encouraged in his students, to promote the visualisation process. Pictures and diagrams were always easier to remember than text or spoken words. That was precisely why diagrams were used. Therefore, the trick was not to try to recall the text, but instead call up the image of the page on which one saw the diagram. Eilidh took her mind back to that moment...it was quite a while ago...many years...an early, introductory course in magic...a simple overview of the structure of the magical disciplines.
There was a textbook on the desk in front of the child Eilidh and it was opened on a page of Life Flow Diagrams, examples from each of the magical Secrets. She had literally gasped with delight when she saw them. They were so beautiful, so elegant. Such perfect, precise designs. From that moment, they became her art and later, her literature, almost like a language: the language of magic. Eilidh smiled to herself. Even her favourite tutor had scoffed at such a ridiculous notion. LFD's were important for what they did, not what they were. Surely `Little Miss Practical` could appreciate the truth of that.
And she had, and she did...but still... “I've got it!” she cried. “Just like Marina Fells, I kno w where these tunnels lead. I don't know what it means, yet,” she told her companions, “but at least I've got the pattern in my head.” She set off at pace. “Follow me.”
Granite rolled his eyes and grumbled to himself, “Here we go again.” The dwarf had soon lost track of all of the twists and turns, and at times even struggled to keep up the pace from his new rear guard position. He didn't like that either. All of his racial dwarf advantages seemed to have evaporated. Not only did the damn torchlight make his night-sight redundant, but also their reluctant leader was reluctant no longer, striding purposefully and to all appearances thoroughly enjoying herself. He supposed the little idiot saw the whole thing as a fascinating magic puzzle game.
In truth, Granite was not far wrong in his assessment. For the first time since she'd left Merlyon, Eilidh Hagram actually was enjoying herself. And yes, she did see this as a fascinating puzzle, but more akin to an academic exercise than a game. She wasn't taking it lightly and she hadn't forgotten the danger. But at least, at last, she felt useful. She still maintained she wasn't cut out for adventuring, but give her a puzzle to solve and she was in her element. She had relished such things at the Church of Life where she'd trained, and she had always excelled. In addition, she had a strong interest in magicology and the history of magic, which was what this temple puzzle was all about, she was certain. And the fact that the ultimate meaning of the symbol they were scribing with their footsteps still eluded her, only made it that much more exciting. She wanted - no, needed - to find the answer, discover the secrets hidden here. The Wise One had told them to come here and she believed he had a good reason. He was teaching her something, something important, vital even, to the success of her quest. Here they would find the key to success, both metaphorically and literally, for that is what they had been sent to find: the Great Key.
"Locate the ancient temple," he had said, "and being back the Great Key.” Key to what, she had not asked, because she already knew he would not tell her until she brought it back to him. It was a test, that's all; just a test...and Eilidh had been passing tests all her life. If Master Gamaliel had used the word `test` rather than `quest` she might have been a lot more enthusiastic about this whole enterprise.
Steady, Eilidh, she told herself silently. Don't go losing your head now. Still, it was hard to resist the adrenaline rush at this turning point. Speaking of which, if her LFD magicology was correct, she realised, the blind right hand bend they were approaching at that very moment would be quite literally the last turning point, leading them into the main chamber...and who knew what wonders might lie in there?
Eilidh indulged herself, putting on an extra burst of speed, running around the corner and...
“Ow!” she cursed as her nose collided with a large gold plated door, spanning the width and height of the passageway.
Her startled cry of pain interrupted Toli and Jayne's conversation and brought the dwarf bard huffing and puffing, axe in hand to strike at whatever nasties were waiting for them. Eilidh had been brought up in the Church and so it had always been natural for her to watch her language. But as she eyed the solid, inches-thick metal obstruction through bleary eyes from the impact, her adrenaline rush frustrated, she quite shocked herself with a single word.
“Bugger!” “What do we do now, Eilidh?” Toli asked, while her friend nursed her bruised nose. “We've come rather a long way just to be stopped by a door, haven't we?” She giggled, “I remember when that actually happened to me, on one of my adventures with my friends back home when I was little. We'd just discovered this really old, abandoned building - not sure what it was - a shrine maybe. Well, we'd been exploring for simply ages and scaring each other with strange noises, and made-up stories of the nasty things that we imagined lurked down there.” She giggled again. “We were sure we were going to be in serious trouble with our parents when we eventually got back, but everybody said we'd only been gone a little while.” She shrugged, and added, “I guess they just thought we'd grown up to an age where some unwritten rule said it was now OK to stay out for that length of time. It's funny how I should be reminded of that now...how did I get onto that?” She wondered, displaying her usual mannerism of blinking rapidly as she tried to recall. “Oh yes, I remember. The door! That's why my friends and I had to go back home - being blocked by a great big door with no way through kind of stopped the fun.”
“Sounds like an old abandoned centre of Temporal magic,” Eilidh said, distractedly.
“Wow, really?” Toli asked, excitedly.
“Oh yes, Time was flowing differently in that place, that’s all. This is something similar, but it’s not Time magic. It’s something else and I need to find out what.” “So, ‘ow are we gonna get through?” ask ed Jayne Corr, bringing everyone back to the situation at hand. She thumped the door with the hilt of one of her scimitars, causing it to resound like an enormous gong. Everyone winced. “Sorry everyone,” apologised the half-orc. “Still, I guess we know it’s much too thick to break through with weapons.”
Eilidh ran her fingers over the door, searching for something - anything. At length, she stepped away with a frustrated growl.
“No secret panels, then?” Toli enquired.
“Not that I can feel,” Eilidh confirmed. She turned to Granite. “Are you up to giving us that song again?” Granite frowned. “Well, my throat's a little dry, but I'll give it a go.” Unstrapping his harp from his pack, he plucked a major chord, then modulated to a minor, then a diminished seventh and he began to sing. He sang, pouring out his bardic magic, but nothing happened, nothing glowed. Not even a flicker.
Eilidh placed a hand on his shoulder and Granite gave up. The Calatyst began pacing up and down, then, muttering to herself, trying to think of anything she had learned over the years that might help with this situation.
“Use your head,” she told herself. “Focus on the goal, not the task; the solution, not the problem. What material do I have to hand that I can use? There must be something. When faced with a locked door, the choices are to go around, which we can't do; turn back, which we mustn't do; or unlock the door and go through. A lock requires a key. An unusual door will likely require an unusual key. A key like...a key like...a key like...” she stopped on the spot, eyes wide.
She spun on her heel to face the door and adopting an assured, confident stance, she raised her staff, glared at the golden barrier, and in a loud voice, declared, “In the name of the Du y Kharia...Open!”
The hidden locking mechanism clicked, there was a rush of magical energy and the door split in the middle, gaping wide to grant them access.
“A key like that,” Eilidh stated, satisfied.
For the Du y Kharia, the door had opened. Through the door, as Eilidh had suspected, was a large chamber, shaped in the form one of the most recognisable Ancient symbols of magic: the pentagram. Gold was everywhere. The metal was used as plating for just about everything that wasn't made completely from that metal or that strange hybrid material. In the centre of the room was an altar, upon which stood a large-scale model of another, more fundamental symbolic concept in the Life Arts: the Twin Cricles of Life.
Consequences (Majaos Book 2) Page 21