As the name suggested, there were two rings, one inside the other in perpendicular orientation and at forty-five degree angles to the base. Each of the rings bore four golden spheres, engraved with further symbols of magic. The outer ring was the Ethereal Circle, while the inner ring was the Elemental Circle.
The outer ring presented small spheres, imprinted with the symbols for the Secrets of Shadow, Time, Spirit and Techmagic in clockwise order, forming a diagonal cross:
The inner ring held the symbolic spheres for the Secrets of Earth, Fire, Air, and Water in a cardinal cross formation, always presented in that order, working clockwise around the ring:
Each of the four Ethereal Spheres was arranged such that it was equidistant from three of the four Elemental Spheres, and vice-versa. Finally, in the centre of both rings was a single, larger sphere. This was the Well of Life; from which, through which and into which all magic flowed. Together they formed what was called either the Twin Circles of Life, or The Life Flow Map:
Eilidh had spent hour after hour in the Church of Life in Merlyon, copying that symbol, on paper, in model forms and in the flow of Life itself. She had studied it intently, researching its many hidden meanings, concepts and ideas in magic theory, but she had never before seen it cast in gold. It was a most peculiar and self-contradictory presentation, Eilidh thought as she admired its astonishing glow, illuminated as it was by nine spotlights. Four gave off physical light, shining on the Elemental Secrets. Four were lanterns of highly purified Life, shining on the Ethereal Secrets. The lantern shining down upon the central Life Secret was giving off both forms of energy. It was quite spectacular, but very strange.
Gold was the only metal on Majaos found to be magically inert. No wands or staves could use it, no magical amulets could be fashioned from it, no magical devices could function using it and no spells could affect it. This was the reason why gold coins were used as currency - there was no way for a mage to get rich quick by making thousands of illegal coins. It also explained why the Knights of Paladinia, who vowed to wield no magic, wore golden plate armour. In theory, gold armour could turn aside spells, but in practise pure gold gave poor protection against physical blows, so Paladinian plate was really a golden metal alloy with very little of its content being actual gold. Still, the symbolism was sound.
Legend had it that back on the Ancients' Old World - long before the Great Endeavour, before Merlyn, even - alchemists laboured to find the secret of turning base metals into gold. Even with the incredible resources of magic on Majaos, that goal was still a fool's dream.
So then, here was perhaps the most fundamental of all magical symbols, realised in a magically inert material. Upon reflection, Eilidh supposed it showed a peculiar kind of balance. She found that fascinating.
Toli tapped her friend on the shoulder, causing the Catalyst to practically jump three feet into the air.
“Penny for them,” said the hobbit.
“I'm sorry?” “Your thoughts - penny for your thoughts. It's an old expression; I'm not surprised you haven't heard it. Most people don't use it anymore, but hobbits love odd little sayings like that. I think I heard someone say that a penny was some kind of human money from long ago, but I don't think anyone used to literally pay people for their thoughts, mind. It's just an expression, telling someone you'd like to know what's going on in their heads. How did you figure out how to get in here? I was just thinking we might have to turn back, 'cause there didn't seem to be any way in and then all of a sudden you yelled at it and it opened, which was a pretty neat trick, I can tell you...”
“Actually, I got thinking about the very first door that barred our path. The guard was clearly not inclined to let just anyone in, but when I invoked the name of the Du y Kharia, he let us pass.” “But ’e didn't want you to come down ‘ere,” Jayne offered. Being a woman of action, it was rare for her to contribute to such discussions, but presumably she saw this as a security issue and that was the role she had created for herself.
“Yes, that is a curious thing, I'll grant you, but still he didn't forbid it or try to prevent our entry once I passed his test. He didn’t say we couldn’t; he said we shouldn’t. Anyway, the point is, one door opened for the Du y Kharia, so it was reasonable to believe that others might be equally obliging.”
“And so it was,” Toli concluded, suitably impressed.
“Yes,” Eilidh concurred. “Interesting, isn’t it?” Granite, who had been exploring the chamber, called the others over to the rear of the main altar, just behind the gold model. “Ye might want tae put yer theory tae the test with this here box. It looks like we've found our key!”
Sure enough, when the others joined the dwarf, they could see there on the altar a glass box pure crystal and magically strengthened to prevent anyone from simply smashing it. Inside was a hand-sized ornate key of bronze, doubtless to simulate gold, when there was no way a key for anything to do with magic could be made of real gold. The alloy was encrusted with jewels: rubies, sapphires and emeralds along with black obsidian and white opals. It did not require much reasoning to understand it was the key to something important. Precisely what lock it might fit into, Eilidh could not guess but presumably the Wise One would be able to tell them that, once they returned it to him.
This could be, quite literally, the key to Niltsiar's downfall , Eilidh realised, her heart pounding.After taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she proclaimeed, “Box, I command you to open, for I am the Du y Kharia!”
Obediently, the box clicked open, but before the Catalyst could reach out for the key, there was a surge of magic and a group of shimmering spectres appeared: nine in all, floating in positions representative of the Twin Circles of Life.
“The magical symbology in this place is simply staggering,” Eilidh remarked, to no-one in particular. Toli whimpered quietly in a mixture of fear and frustration at once again coming face to face with a threat with which her magic was quite incapable of dealing. Sometimes she couldn't help wondering if she might be doing Eilidh a favour if she left the party and encouraged her to find a more capable mage. Her friend needed magic she could rely on; magic that was useful.
Jayne and Granite had immediately gone for weapons but Eilidh anticipated their actions and stayed their hands. She had come a long way since that ill-conceived attack in the Glade-That-Wasn'tSupposed-To-Be-There. She was supposed to be a leader and she had started to learn a little about what that meant. Mostly, she still preferred her party to have autonomy and approach things in their own way - after all, she had no better idea of what they were doing than anybody else! But there were times, like that moment, when she had to take a stand and say, “No. There will be no attack unless I say so. Clear?”
Jayne instantly obeyed. Taking orders was second nature to her. Sometime soon, she hoped she could rejoin the amazing Black Dragon - Hero of Avidon, Scourge of those who would threaten the weak and vulnerable, Champion of Children. Until then she would follow Eilidh's orders as if they came directly from him, which she supposed they probably did. Oh, Eilidh was nice enough, she was clever about magic stuff and she'd got them in this temple place, but surely it was the Great One who was running this show. Exactly how he could be directing events here when he was...wherever he was...she couldn't say, but he was the Black Dragon. He could do it; she was sure of it. He could do anything; he was amazing. But until he was able to join her in person, she'd take his orders through the girl. It was misconception she clung to with faithful tenacity.
As for the dwarf, Granite Longbeard had only one thought as he surveyed the scene. He even spoke it out loud. “I knew this place was haunted!”
The apparition in the centre of the group `spoke` in Eilidh's mind.
Greetings, Du y Kharia. Long have we waited for thee. So I've been told, Eilidh replied, silently, immediately warning herself to lose the slightly flip edge. It was a long-established defence mechanism and it was very hard for her to control it when she got nervous.
The spectre
seemed to take it all in good part, though, saying, I sense thy time is short, so I shall be concise.
That would be appreciated. Very well, go ahead, then.
We are here to implore thee not to remove the key from this sacred place for thou knowest not what it will do.
No, but I think I know someone who does. I was sent here on a quest specifically to recover the key.
Then one wouldst have to question the motives of they that gavest thou this quest. Art thou certain thy faith in this individual is well-placed? It's not faith, Eilidh insisted. He has access to great knowledge, which I respect, and what he has told me so far, though new to me, fits well with what I have learned for myself. In short, I have reason to believe he is benevolent.
Then perhaps he is simply mistaken. Or you are. Possibly, she allowed,but that's a chance I’m willing to take. It's hard to see how things could get much worse whatever I do. Call it an act of desperation, if you like. But whatever the consequences, I am committed to this act, and like I told your friend at the entrance, this is my choice to make.
Then thou must act as thou wilt.
Good. Now we've got that out of the way, please back off and let me take the key.
“I command you,” Eilidh declared aloud. “Release the key to me, for I am the Du y Kharia!” The glass box shattered and the spectres disappeared. At last Eilidh held the great key in her grasp, but just at that moment, a familiar sneering female voice startled her enough to drop it on the floor.
“How very interesting,” said the voice. “Her Divine Excellency will reward me greatly for that information.”
Chapter 21
A second large explosion rocked the Great Library just moments after the first, which strangely saved Brash and his passengers from certain death. Powerful winds tore them back up into the sky when they were just a few feet from the ground, giving Brash the time he needed to stabilise his flight and achieve a safe landing.
“That was Niltsiar again, wasn’t it? What’s she done now?” Rochelle wondered, wearily. She couldn't take much more of this, she really couldn't. She was turning into a nervous wreck. It was Brash who replied, “That wasn't her; it was Drizdar.” Dragons had exceptional, magically enhanced senses, so it was not surprising that the bronze should be able to differentiate so clearly. “An explosion of that size can mean only one spell.”
Rochelle nodded. Raistlin's Revenge - the most devastating spell in modern magical warfare. Mastered only by the highest-ranking witches and warlocks. It was a weapon of mass destruction that could wipe out a legion of warriors half a mile away.
“Raistlin's Revenge cast by the Supreme Master of War at point blank range...” The druidess whistled. “Messy. I suppose it would be wishful thinking to suppose Niltsiar was in that explosion?” she added, wistfully.
“Oh she was in it alright,” Brash confirmed. “It just didn't do so much as muss her hair.” “Niltsiar wasn't the target,” Artisho piped up. “Drizdar's no fool - you saw him fight, Rochelle
- he ignored Niltsiar completely. Why? Because he knew his magic couldn't harm her. No, he focused his energies on a target that he at least stood a chance of killing.”
“Akar-Sel!” Rochelle gasped in understanding.
“Indeed, Drizdar has done us all quite a favour this day.”
* * * * * At the critical moment, Drizdar had managed to get on the offensive, thanks to the intervention of the dragons. He had beaten back his former shalfi and Akar-Sel had just been knocked sprawling to the ground. Drizdar would never have a better opportunity for vengeance against his renegade teacher; he had to destroy him now. Niltsiar would soon have the situation back under control and without that strange old man to keep her occupied, he would no doubt become the object of the venting of her frustrations. He had to get out of there before that happened. The problem he had was his Catalyst. Drizdar had always been meticulous at keeping track of Life expenditure in battle. The mathematics were complex, especially when fighting for one's life, but very often it was that skill that had helped him preserve his skin. Even now, he knew precisely how much Life he had and how much was potentially available via his Catalyst, within an acceptable margin of error. That error factor was significant in this case: There might be enough, he decided, but only just.
Then he was out of time. Livid, Niltsiar turned the sky to magical flame, reducing the dragon quartet to charcoal. Then she lashed out not at Drizdar, but at his Catalyst. The Supreme War Master had no way to recognise the danger, immediately, but then the flow of Life changed. His Catalyst wasn't Granting it any more...she was Draining it! Riding on the back of that shock was another - his right foot was going numb. It felt like it was...turning to stone. Drizdar's eyes widened in horror. The Turning! That's what Niltsiar was doing!
But he didn't get to be Supreme War Master without having good instincts in the face of personal danger. He didn't think; he just acted, unleashing Raistlin's Revenge. It was not supposed to be a close range spell for good reason: it was too destructive and there was no way to make it enemy specific. Simply put, it would wipe out every living thing within a blast radius of approximately one mile. Drizdar would have to bring the centre in so close, his own Catalyst would be caught in the blast. Plus, since the spell was so costly to the caster, having no Catalyst would leave him drained and vulnerable. At least, that's what the textbooks said. Drizdar knew better. There was a way to get out of this - it would hurt like hell, it might even kill him, but that was better than the living death of a Turning.
The explosion threw up a massive cloud of dust and debris, cracks grew across the walls of the library; the noise was deafening. When the dust finally settled, two small black and smouldering patches marked the spots where Akar-Sel and Drizdar's Catalyst had stood. Niltsiar was untouched by such pitiful, weak spellcasting, but Drizdar, Master of Dark Magic, had disappeared.
Far away in his own fortified tower, Drizdar came around in triumph.
“I live!” He breathed in wonder. It was ironic that he had used the very magic Akar-Sel had taught him, to destroy his mentor and escape Niltsiar's wrath. He had, in effect, used a form of dragon magic, acting as his own Catalyst, converting raw magic to Life himself. Not having a true Catalyst’s magical senses and specialised techniques, it had destabilised his Life Store for a moment, subjecting him to the ravages of raw magic, and it had no doubt stolen away some years of his life. Even for a long-lived elf, years were not to be squandered lightly, but it had been an emergency. Better to lose some of his life than all of it. He had escaped and survived, that was what mattered…but at what cost?
Drizdar ripped his crimson robes open to examine his right leg - it was living stone from just below the knee. He would forever walk with a limp from this day, but he would adapt. One did not face Niltsiar and Akar-Sel in battle without receiving some kind of scar. Drizdar was the Supreme War Master; he had suffered his fair share of battle scars over the years. This was just one more. Yes, he decided, today had been a good day.
* * * * *
“Can't she just bring Akar-Sel back to life again?” Rochelle asked. “And which piece of him do you think Niltsiar would find most useful?” Artisho barbed. “Don’t be silly, Miss Ribbons. As you said yourself, the result would have been extremely messy. There's simply not enough of Akar-Sel left. Resurrection for a target that's been blown to pieces is simply impossible, even for Niltsiar. No, I assure you, Akar-Sel is dead. There is no doubt whatever about that. Akar-Sel is as dead as a doornail.
“Mind!” he expounded, “I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of the Ancients is in the simile; and my unhallowed lips shall not disturb it, or Mythallen's done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that AkarSel is as dead as a doornail.”
Rochelle looked at him strangely.
Artisho looked v
aguely sheepish in return. “Just something I read once in a book,” he explained, waving his hand dismissively. “Niltsiar will be livid,” Brash said, sounding quite delighted at the prospect. “She went to a lot of trouble to come here and rescue the renegade. She must have had great plans for him. Plans that now lie in tatters.”
“Won't she just find someone else to do whatever it was?” Rochelle wondered.
“Oh, she has other agents for sure,” Artisho agreed. “But whoever the substitute is, it won't be AkarSel and for that we should be eternally grateful.” Rochelle knew her Tech Wars history. The damage the renegade could have caused in this time of chaos was almost unimaginable. Artisho was right - there was no-one, besides Niltsiar herself, who was anywhere near that dangerous.
“So with Akar-Sel permanently out of the way,” Rochelle mused, “all we have to worry about is Niltsiar and her horde of chaos creatures.”
“I don't know about you,” Brash quipped, “but I feel better already!”
At that, the three of them laughed. “Now, my dear Miss Ribbons,” said Artisho, “I suggest you save any more questions for a less precipitous moment and-” Interrupting himself, Artisho swore. “Damn and blast that woman! It's all her fault! You know what she's made me do, don't you? I was distracted, that's what it was...hard to remember everything at my age, you know.”
“Why? What's happened?”
“What's happened?” Artisho was incredulous. “Isn't it obvious?”
Rochelle started into those eyes of his but found no clue in there.
“It's gone!” He wailed in despair. “Gone!...”
“Gone? What’s gone?”
“I've lost my hat!”
* * * * * By the time Brash had carried his passengers beyond the aftermath of the explosion, all hell had broken loose. There was fierce fighting in the streets of Merlyon, the city guard were trying to contain and extinguish the fires that reflected on the golden armour of the Paladins. The Knights were naturally in the thick of the fighting - battling creatures of chaos that had somehow found their way inside the city. Dark Knights were fighting alongside them, in accordance with the Alliance.
Consequences (Majaos Book 2) Page 22