by Sigrid Kraft
Well, the day is saved. But I will need more useful things for the future: Better clothing, weapons, some everyday objects. Sooner or later, I’ll have to seek the company of other people and perhaps find some work. Possibly as a huntsman or a farmhand. I have many skills and am not afraid of hard work. From now on I will earn honestly what I need for life.
I am not a thief or a murderer as the Lowlanders always maintained. We fought for our freedom and for justice. That is something different to being a criminal. Talasin said that this is not the land of the Lowlanders. Hence, I have no quarrel with this people, who till now have treated me very kindly.
After he had finished his meal, Eryn proceeded on his journey. Small woods alternated with grassland and soft hills undulated across the landscape. The sun crept closer to the horizon and dusk fell. Eryn spotted a lonely hut on a hilltop not too far away.
What luck, that is exactly what I am looking for. Whoever lives there might be helpful to me so that I won’t attract the attention of a whole settlement. I will certainly discover more there about this country and its inhabitants.
Someone clearly lived in the hut as smoke from the chimney curled into the sky, and a number of cultivated fields surrounded the wooden building.
I’ll have to come up with a good story. The truth doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.
By the time Eryn approached his goal, it was almost dark. He knocked at the door and, surprisingly quietly, it swung open, having been left ajar. “Hallo, anybody there?”
He ventured inside and saw an old man wrapped in thick fur, huddled in a chair at the fireplace.
He looks like the Finngul. Is he a wise man too?
The old man got up and smiled at him: “So, you have returned after all.”
What does he mean? I have returned? Eryn was confused and his eyes narrowed into thin slits.
Suddenly the air around him rippled and the illusion dissolved into nothing. It took Eryn a moment to realize that he was back in the room in Aleroth and, in place of the old man, it was Talasin who stood before him.
You treacherous bastard. “You betrayed me!” Enraged, the young Fenn swung his right fist at Talasin, but the mage was quicker. An invisible force thrust Eryn towards the wall and held him fast against the cold stone.
“Sit down now, please, and let us talk seriously.” Talasin’s voice was still calm, although it now had an imperious undertone.
Eryn’s legs moved on their own and walked him towards the bed, where, like a well-behaved young man, he sat down.
He has gained control over my body! Eryn’s frame of mind was a mixture of shock and cold fury. He had no choice but to remain seated. At least his mouth obeyed him and he could move his lips freely: “You betrayed me, sorcerer!”
Master Talasin pointed out: “Deep down, it was your own wish to return, otherwise you would still walk in your dreams. Your free will made a decision and you came back again.”
Lies! He gave me that dream. It was just a test to see how I would decide. Sarcastically, Eryn remarked: “We can try this again, if you like. But next time, without your magical manipulation.”
Talasin simply ignored the words and proceeded to lecture him: “There are three things a student of magic has to learn: humility, devotion and endurance. Listen to the words of the wise Masters and always keep learning with eagerness and interest. Exercise yourself in patience, because the path you are about to take is long.”
What’s he up to? Giving me lessons for children? I’m in no mood to listen to that! “Who cares? You promised me freedom and at the same time you cheat me with magic. Why? Is this some kind of torture to break my will?”
“Didn’t we save you from certain death? Other men would be more thankful for that favor than you are, my friend.”
The mage may be right there. “I didn’t ask you to help,” Eryn replied abrasively.
“So little do you value your life?”
I wouldn’t put it that way. I was ready to die on the battlefield and at the execution, too. Of course I’m glad to be alive on account of this unexpected turn of events. “You can hold me prisoner, but my will is free and I refuse to become the servant of heretical mages.”
Even Talasin’s patience seemed to be wearing thin:
“The word is ‘student’ – not servant. And what is so heretical about magic?”
Of course a mage isn’t going to see anything wrong with magic. “The Gods rule mankind’s destiny and it is wrong to interfere in their great works.”
Talasin’s voice lost a little of its former gentleness. “Who propagates such nonsensical doctrines? I tell you this: You will study. And before you even try it – you can’t leave this room. But don’t be afraid, you will not be harmed or left to go hungry. All your needs will be tended to.
And now I’ll give you time to contemplate your impertinent and foolish behavior thoroughly. I hope you’ll see reason, boy!” Master Talasin got up and left the room.
He almost sounded as if he were dressing down a stubborn child. That image didn’t appeal to Eryn at all. He was able to move again once Talasin had left the room, but apart from that he was a captive. Despite the mage’s instructions, Eryn’s first act was to try to open the door. Before he could even get within reach of the entrance, however, he bounced into an invisible wall. The same thing happened at the window.
Great. Straight from the execution to another prison. Enormous improvement in my circumstances.
Eryn threw himself on the bed and considered his situation – though not in the way Talasin had hoped.
Eryn woke up the next morning to find a meal standing on the table. He was sure no one could have entered the room without waking him up, which meant that magic had been involved once more.
How else should things work in this cursed tower? He was so hungry that he ate anyway.
I must admit the food tastes very good.
Freshly baked bread with a fine spread and a thick layer of succulent bacon. As soon as Eryn had finished his breakfast, he again lost control over his body. Against his will he got up and walked out of the door.
A really stupid feeling. Moved like a string puppet. And where am I going? For an audience with my custodian, Talasin?
This time, however, his legs carried him to another building – the Academy. From the great entrance hall, several corridors led off in different directions. He took the first one to the left, passing many closed doors until he stopped before one of them and opened it. It was a simple classroom, furnished with three rows of tables and a desk at the front, behind which stood an elderly man with a long beard and a robe similar to that worn by Talasin. In the first two rows were sitting ten children, but the last row was empty. Eryn’s feet marched him to the back of the room, where the magic let him take a seat and forced him to turn his eyes straight ahead towards the teacher.
Unmistakably another mage. And what a cosy little scene, a magic teacher instructing little magic students in the dark art. Eryn’s interpretation was absolutely correct.
“Ah, our new student has arrived,” the teacher said by way of greeting before he introduced himself: “I am Master Agland and I teach the fundamental principles and correlations of magic. Welcome to class.”
Do all mages have that soft, purring way of talking? Eryn would have liked nothing more than to give vent to his rage, but all he could do was sit motionless and listen in silence.
Talasin forces me to participate in lessons for little mage children. It is humiliating.
After the brief words of welcome, Master Agland paid Eryn no further attention, turning instead towards the class and carrying on with the lesson. The children were aged between about eight and ten and had not yet lost interest in the newcomer. Several turned round to examine Eryn with curious eyes, but their teacher called them to order.
“Children, leave him alone and pay attention. We were doing the twelve circles. Who can enumerate them?” A boy raised his hand.
“Well, Fingold, have a
go.”
The boy started: “Orange is the branch of healing. Brown the earth. White stands for air, Blue for water, Green for all living things, Silver for the spirit, Violet for love, Black for the darkness...”
Another boy shouted out in a know-it-all manner: “You have forgotten Gray!”
Master Agland intervened: “Weren, let Fingold finish first. It is rude to interrupt someone. Fingold, please continue.”
The boy repeated: “Gray for stone, Black for the Darkness, Red for fire, Yellow for the light and Gold for the essence.”
“Well done,” praised Master Agland.
This reminds me of the old days of my own childhood, when Narna told us the lore of the Fenn and the Gods. I am completely out of place here. Soon Eryn’s mind wandered from the children to thoughts of Talasin. He imagined what he would do with the mage if he was ever given the chance. It was anything but pleasant.
Meanwhile, Master Agland related how the flow of the magic could be aided with gestures, sound and signs. He pointed out that these were only aids, and a truly great mage wouldn’t need such help to cast his spells.
Finally, the lesson was over and the spell upon Eryn took him straight back to his chamber. There the magic dissolved and he was once again able to move freely. Being compelled to sit stiffly for so long had caused every muscle in his body to cramp up, so he did a few exercises to release the tension.
Is that the torture Talasin has conceived for me? Does he really think that will break my resistance and bring me round? It’s ridiculous. As a hunter, I learned patience long ago and I can wait till I get a chance to escape. Perhaps I should pretend to play his game, until his vigilance begins to wane...
During the next involuntary walk to the Academy, Eryn took a close look at his surroundings and committed every detail to memory. The streets, the houses, the path he took, and also whoever he met. Absolutely everything that might be of any importance.
The second lesson with Master Agland began in a similar way to the one before. One of the children cited the twelve circles of magic. Then the teacher asked the children about spells of the first level. He called them pure spells without connection. For the yellow circle, which represented the light, this was the creation of light.
How apt. What idiocy. Light stands for light. A truly wondrous discovery.
Just as quickly, the children found the answers to the Circle of Red in fire and to Violet in the expression of love. They spent a long time discussing the Circle of Gray, which stood for stone. Melting would require fire and was therefore not a pure spell. Detecting special stones was also a characteristic of Silver, the circle of spirit, as was scanning things...
Blah, blah, blah, what a senseless muddle. Who wants to find stones anyway? Climb a mountain and you will find enough stones. You don’t need magic for that.
Eryn was thus preoccupying himself with his own hostile thoughts, when Master Agland suddenly stopped his explanations and fell silent. There was an absent expression on his face and when he seemed to return to the present, he announced: “Students, I have to leave you alone for a short time. While I am gone, everyone will paint the twelve circles with their equivalents on a sheet of paper. And don’t get up to any mischief.”
Barely had Master Agland left and the door fallen shut, than the docile students turned into what they really were – rather normal curious children. And the object of their nosiness, was of course, Eryn. Several children had already turned round and were giving him probing looks.
Weren, whose mouth was always open, proclaimed: “Fingold, I tell you, he’s a zombie!”
“No, he’s not! Master Agland said he is a student,” Fingold objected loudly as another child joined in the dispute: “Pah! Why is he sitting there like a stone statue? I bet he’s come straight from the grave. Maybe we’ll learn about him in the next lesson.”
The debate grew heated.
“Zombies don’t feel anything – do they? Well then, go and touch him,” a round-faced boy challenged.
Fingold interjected: “And what if the spell that holds him breaks?”
“Scaredy cat, you don’t dare!” One of the children taunted as immediately afterwards another boy shouted: “Chicken shit!,” and a small boy tweeted: “Nurin!”
The children carried on provoking each other until Fingold put on a very serious face, stood up and moved towards Eryn. The others followed at a distance and in an instant he was surrounded.
Like little harpies. I really don’t like this.
Fingold held a pencil between his fingertips and now used it as a tool to prod Eryn carefully.
“You see! He hasn’t moved at all!” triumphed Fingold, proud that he had dared to touch him.
Another child demanded at once: “Try harder!” And Fingold promptly complied with the request. He pricked Eryn pretty hard.
Ouch! That hurts! Stop it! However, Eryn could do nothing but roll his eyes wildly.
“Ha! He is a zombie!”
“No, he isn’t!” The children differed in their opinions and continued to argue merrily.
Another pencil poked Eryn in the back. “I have touched him too!”
“Super, you hero. Fingold has already done that.”
“He feels no pain, so he is a zombie.”
Fingold went all schoolmasterly: “Weren, you didn’t pay attention in class. Zombies rot so their flesh falls from their bones and they stink repulsively.”
The boy with the thin voice poked his nose forward to sniff: “This one smells funny, too.”
Master Agland, where are you? Come back! Eryn implored in his thoughts.
The situation now took a dramatic turn.
“Zombies also have bulgy eyes. Everybody knows that.”
“Why? I thought, they didn’t have any eyes at all.”
“Only if they’ve rotted out of the sockets. Maybe this one’s still fresh.”
But again Fingold knew better: “He is only under a spell. He is just a normal person.”
You got it, mate. Finally, someone with a bit of common sense.
“But he feels no pain and also rolls his eyes so strangely.”
No, that’s not true. I do feel pain. Poking me hurts a lot, you stupid little toads.
“We can poke him in the eye. Then we’ll know for sure.”
Are those awful mini monsters off their heads?! Master Agland, please come back!
Eryn was really afraid now. He knew how indescribably stupid children were capable of being.
“But that really hurts,” a small boy put in.
Yes, tell them, before an accident happens.
“If he is a zombie, he won’t feel it anyway.”
No, no, no! Wildly, Eryn rolled his eyes, the only movement he was capable of.
“I won’t do it. You can, if you want.”
Weren raised his arm and waved the pencil threateningly in front of Eryn’s face.
“I will prove that he is a zombie.”
The child with the squeaky voice announced: “I won’t join in. I don’t think Master Agland will like it.”
Thanks, my only true ally. Prevent them from doing wrong! Yes, tell them!
Weren and Fingold began to argue again. Then the door swung open and Master Agland came back, causing a great weight to fall from Eryn.
Phew, saved in the nick of time. By the Gods, that was close.
The teacher looked around and wanted to know immediately:
“What’s going on here?”
In an instant, the children were back in their places and Weren blurted out:
“Master Agland, is that funny man there a zombie?”
With the characteristic patience of a mage, Master Agland replied: “No, he is human.”
Fingold poked his tongue out at Weren, and Agland didn’t seem to notice, but continued to explain: “He is merely badly behaved and somewhat dangerous.” Master Agland paused and Eryn thought sarcastically:
Those are my sentiments exactly – that I am the dangero
us one here.
Then the elderly mage continued: “That’s why he has been put under a spell. But don’t worry about that. Instead, pay attention to the lesson.”
Master Agland restored order in his class again and they resumed their discussion on pure spells. They worked out that for some circles, pure spells didn’t exist - for example for the Circle of Gold. And then one of the smart-alecks of the class – Fingold or Weren – asked something unrelated and Agland lost his thread and began talking about the Great War between the dragons and the mages.
“...the war raged and the earth burned. In those days, many great mages lost their lives, but the dragons too had to mourn enormous losses. It finally stopped when the Great Gray, the mightiest of the dragons, created the Nimrod and divided the world.”
“Is it true that the mages of that time mounted dragons? I mean, if they were enemies?” Weren asked.
This precocious brat seems to have a soft spot for monsters. Eryn would have liked to smack the brat, but he had to content himself with merely thinking about a possible protest: And I am not a zombie, I’d just like to point that out again.
Meanwhile, Master Agland continued his narration and Eryn found himself listening more closely now than to the other subjects. He too had heard of the Great War.
“Dragons and mages haven’t always been enemies. They often used to have lively discussions on the art of magic. But to mount a dragon, a special spell was used – the soulban. With the help of that strong connection, a mage could gain control over a dragon and bind the beast to his will. But only very powerful mages were skilled enough to weave such difficult magic. It is a once-in-a-lifetime spell. That means it can only be cast once in a person’s lifetime. It creates a lifelong bond between the weaver and the one under the ban, which can’t be broken. So, mindful that they only had a single chance to do so, the mages sought to bind the most powerful dragons they could to themselves. On the other hand, the dragons were not at all keen on this, because for them it meant becoming a sort of slave to the mages, obeying them completely.
The dragons in turn could hardly be described as the personification of friendliness. To gain more power they drank the essence of other magical creatures...” Agland had a tendency to get carried away. “Well, that wasn’t very pleasant either. For some lower skilled dragons, the bond of the soulban was an opportunity to accompany a great mage and share a little of his power. And so it is said that some dragons volunteered to have themselves bound. But a mage never freely gives away his essence, because if he does so, he becomes an unmagical person afterwards... presuming he survives the procedure in the first place. Before the Great War, there was fairly reasonable cooperation between dragons and mages. However, the whole thing escalated when Master Ador Coronos, at that time Towerlord of the Golden Tower and first mage, actually dared to try to weave the soulban on the Great Gray. Never before had an attempt been made to bind such a powerful dragon and the beast was incensed. And then it all ended up in the disaster of the Great War.”