Tower of Sorcery

by Fel

  "I can agree to that," he said after a moment. "Better to be ready for what will never be."

  "Because only a fool says never," Faalken finished the saying.

  Tarrin looked up at the sun. It was nearly noon. The students were filing off the field in neat rows, and that reminded him that it was about time for lunch. "I have to go, Faalken," he said. "I'll see you later."

  "Have a good day, Tarrin. Come visit again soon."

  "I hope to," he said.

  In the Hall, as he was settling in for lunch, he managed to spot Walten a few tables over. Rushing over there, he saw that Tiella was sitting with him. They both saw him, and Tiella waved to him happily. "Tarrin!" Tiella said with a smile. "It's so good to see you!"

  "They told us you made it," Walten told him with a grin.

  "It wasn't easy," Tarrin said. He tapped the shoulder of the Novice that was sitting across the table from his friends. "Excuse me, would you like to trade seats?" he asked. "These are old friends of mine."

  The young girl gaped at him a moment, then hastily vacated the area. The novices to each side of her scooted away from him as he stepped over the bench and sat down, shaking Walten's hand over the table and holding onto Tiella's a moment. "What happened after the boat sank?" Walten asked.

  Tarrin gave them a very brief account of what had happened after he'd parted ways with them. He told them about Jesmind, but didn't go into the more personal things that had happened between them. "So after I got away from her, I made my way here," he finished. "It wasn't easy because of all the raiders running around. I was in pretty bad shape when I got here."

  "Wow," Tiella said. "Nothing happened to us. We just got another boat and kept going."

  "How's the Noviate?" Tarrin asked.

  "Busy," Walten grunted. "I've never cleaned so much in my life. I think I may see if I can go back to being a carpenter."

  "I'm starting to hate rags," Tiella added. "They make me clean the Keeper's office, and she goes into fits if she sees even a speck of dust."

  "That's all you do?"

  "Believe me, that's enough," she said with a screwed-up face.

  Tarrin laughed. "Just stick with it," he said. "They can't make you clean forever. What are you learning?"

  "Right now, history," Walten told him. "We don't get to start learning Sorcery until we learn some things about history and geography, and even things about adding numbers and a class on logic. After that, they put us in the Initiate, and we start learning magic."

  "Sorcery," the Novice beside him said absently.

  "Yeah," he said. "They make you scrub the privies if they hear you say that word."

  "We call it the M word," Tiella told him.

  "How long have you been doing this?" he asked.

  "Almost two rides," Tiella told him. A ride was ten days, so it was nearly twenty days.

  "They must have put you in fast."

  "The day after we got here," Walten told him.

  Tarrin chuckled. "They didn't waste any time, did they?"

  "None," Tiella agreed.

  Elsa stood, and the Hall stood with her for the blessing of the meal. Tarrin thought about what they'd said while she talked. They'd wanted to do the same with him, but he hadn't been in shape to do it. It must have been standard practice. He was very glad that they'd had no trouble after he'd been separated from them. Faalken and Dolanna were experienced travellers, but Walten and Tiella weren't really suited for fighting. They could, and did, though. Both of them had exhibited dogged courage and determination in the fights that had happened while he was with them. But they hadn't had the fighting background that he did. He was happy that it had been left to him, and not to them. It wasn't that he liked fighting, it was that he was better suited for it than them.

  The blessing over, they all sat back down and started to eat. Tarrin listened as Tiella and Walten talked about the routine of classes in the morning, lunch, then maybe one more class, and then off to do all the cleaning, or whatever duty was imposed upon them that day. They talked about several instructors, and Tarrin was a bit surprised to find out that only a few of the Novitiate teachers were actually Sorcerers. But then again, the Novitiate dealt with pure knowledge, and a non-sorcerer was just as capable of teaching history or numbers as a Sorcerer.

  Tarrin stared at a Sorcerer who had entered the Hall and started staring at him. It was an old man, with sunken eyes and cheeks and with a white-fringed ring of hair around that bald pate. He wore a simple brown robe that was slightly food-stained. The man moved with an erratic gait, as if one leg didn't always want to work the right way, and he made a zig-zagging, meandering course to Elsa and the Sorcerers seated at the table on the dais at the far end of the Hall.

  "Who is that?" Tarrin asked.

  "Brel, the Master of Initiates," Tiella informed him. "Nobody I talked to likes him. Mistress Elsa is firm, but fair. I hear that Brel enjoys punishing people."

  "He's a little man that thinks it makes him bigger to put other people down," Walten grunted. "Standing on a man's shoulders may let you see higher, but you're still the same size once you get down."

  "Well, that's a problem that will have to wait," Tarrin told them. "None of us are there yet. I'm not even here yet," he said with a smile.

  "Tomorrow," Tiella told him. "We were all told about you, Tarrin," she said with a wink.

  "Told? Told what?"

  "That you'd be in the Noviate," she said. "A Sorcerer came into our class and told us about you. That you'd be in the Novitiate, and that since you're not human, you're not quite like everyone else. He said a few things about how to act around you, and said as long as we don't make you mad, that everything will be just fine."

  "Nobody told me they were doing that," he said.

  "I guess they want to make sure that nothing bad happens," Walten said. "Tykarthians and Draconians don't like people who aren't human, and the Dals really hate them, because of all the Goblins up in the mountains."

  "I'm not a Goblinoid," Tarrin grunted.

  "Yes, well, even I think that if someone called you a really bad name, you'd do something to them," Tiella said.

  "I would," he affirmed bluntly. "But you know me, Tiella. I would have done it even before this happened to me."

  "True," she acceded.

  "There's going to be another one," Walten said.

  "Another what?"

  "We heard about it in our class today. A Selani is going to come and enter the Noviate."

  A Selani. One of the Desert Folk, who lived out in the Desert of Swirling Sands to the east of Arkis. That desert, and the Selani that lived there, were the only things keeping the countless legions of the empire of Arak out of the West. The Selani were a hard people, like their desert, and they were regarded the world over as the most lethal adversaries in hand to hand combat in all the world. The Ungaardt were known for their fighting ability, but even the Ungaardt paled in comparison to the Selani. Five hundred years ago, the Emperor of Arak decided to try to invade Arkis. That was when Arkis was a fledgeling nation, made up of Arakites that had fled from the brutal oppression of the Emperor, Zanak XVI. An advance force of Arakite Legions had tried to cross the desert, and were obliterated by the Selani. Angered by the loss, the Emperor ordered his legions to sweep the desert and kill anything that moved. The Selani simply allowed the invaders to come in, let them wander around for about a month to let the heat and blowing sand take their toll, then they wiped out the invaders. The Selani had been angered by the attacks, and after a council of all the clans, they decided to attack Arak.

  No nation in the world would have been insane enough to make that decision, but the Selani were beings of high honor. Their honor had been stained by the invasion, and they meant to punish the Emperor for his actions. Nine of the fifteen clans left the desert and fell on the western border of Arak like the a tidal wave of destruction. They laid waste to absolutely everything in their path, but, according to their honor, they killed not one civilian. All who di
d not raise a weapon to the Selani were allowed free passage to safety. Many simply remained behind the Selani lines, for the Selani advanced so quickly that there was no way they could outrun the advance. These were treated as guests of the Selani, and were given tents to live in and food to eat while the Clans eradicated their Empire. Zanak became so enraged and bewildered at the unstoppable Selani that he took command of the army personally and met them on the plains of Dala Ren. The Selani clans met the elite of the Arakite Legions on that grassy plain, and killed them to the last man. The Emperor himself was captured and taken back to the desert, where not a word was heard from him again. Nobody even knew what fate had befell him at the hands of the Selani.

  The Emperor captured, the Selani clans simply withdrew, leaving the throne to the Emperor's eldest son, Zanak XVII. The ruined western marches of the Empire blamed the Empire for their loss, and seceeded, becoming the kingdom of Selas. The Emperor was too busy fighting a sudden war on his eastern frontier, caused by the decimation of the Legion reserves, to attend the matter immediately. But once that war was finished, Zanak set his legions to invade what was once his own empire.

  The legions advanced to the border, and found three clans of Selani sitting on the other side waiting for them. The people of the new kingdom had managed to befriend the Selani, and the Selani had had council and decided that a nation between the desert and Arak would be better for all involved. So they simply created one. Zanak, fearful of the lethal ability of the Selani, who were clearly allied with his former subjects, decided to sue for peace instead. Arak recognized the sovereignty of Selas, formal peace treaties were drawn up and signed, and everyone went home. Arak was the largest single nation on the planet, and yet even they were no match for the fighting prowess of the Selani. It is a world-wide relief that the Selani have no interest in conquest. So long as they are left alone, they are quite happy to dwell in their desert in perfect contentment. And all of the Selani's neighbors are more than willing to let that happen.

  "I wonder what the Selani will be like," Tarrin mused.

  "I heard it's a she," Walten said. "A Clan Princess or some such thing. Some kind of noble."

  "Who knows," Tarrin said. "I'll be curious to meet her, though. Well, I need to go to the library for a while. See you two later."

  "Have fun," Walten said.

  "Just be careful, Tarrin," Tiella said. "Some of the other Novices don't like you. Don't let them bully you into a fight."

  "Tiella, dear, don't worry about it. Once I kill a few of them, I think the rest will leave me alone."

  "Tarrin!" Tiella gasped.

  Tarrin laughed as he stood up. "I'm just teasing you, Tiella," he said with a grin. "See you later."

  Tarrin spent several frustrating hours in the library after that. There were lots of books on magic, and magical theory, and many other such things, but most of them were written for people who already had a basic understanding of magic. He did eventually find one that explained the fundamental differences between the four orders of magic, but it wasn't that much of a help. According to the book, there were four distinct orders of magic, each one using a different type of it. There were the Sorcerers, who drew energy from the world around them, it said. From something called the Weave, which the author stated was all around the world. The Wizards, or Mages, drew magic from elsewhere. The book didn't say exactly where that was, but it made it clear that Wizardly magic was not of this world. That concept intrigued him. Priests used Clerical magic, they drew their magical power directly from the Gods themselves, beseeching the God to grant the priest the power to work the magic. Tarrin had seen Clerical magic before, when a priest of Karas came to the village to help stop a strange sickness that had spread through the village. The last order were the Druids. The book was very vague about the Druids, and it stated that they were extremely secluded and reserved. The author stated that they drew their magical power directly from the earth itself, tapping the raw power of nature for the magic to cast their enchantments.

  "I did not expect to see you here, dear one," Dolanna's voice called. Tarrin looked up, and saw her standing by the table.

  "I've been reading," he said as she seated herself across from him. "Haven't been getting very far, though."

  "What about?"

  "Sorcery," he said pointedly.

  "Worry not over it," she assured him. "They will give you that instruction in due time."

  "I know, but I have reasons to start thinking about doing it now," he said.

  "You worry that much?"

  "Let's just call it being safe," he said. "Jesmind is out there, and me being in here makes no difference to her. If I can get in without attention, so can she. She will try, Dolanna. And I'll need every weapon I can get when that happens."

  "The Keeper is aware of it, Tarrin," she said. "I do believe that she has already taken steps to find her."

  "She won't."

  "Give us some credit, young one," she said. "We have more at our disposal than normal spies."

  "Be that as it may, I'm not placing my trust in someone I don't know."

  She was about to say something, but she held her peace instead. "How was your day?"

  "Busy," he said.

  "Faalken told me you were on the field. The others were most impressed with you."

  "I don't see why. They've seen Elsa, so they've seen me."

  "Tarrin, you may not understand this, but you are very fun to watch," she told him with a smile. "You are very graceful, and you move as if you float. When you were out on the field, Faalken said it was like watching a professional dance. He also remarked that you should think of using acrobatics," she said.

  "Acrobatics?"

  "Tumbles, flips, and such," she said. "You are more than capable of it. I have seen you do such things."

  "I'll think about it," he said. "Any word on who my teacher is going to be?"

  "Tarrin, that day is some ways in the future," she told him. "There will not be a decision for some time." She stood again. "It is not good for us to be seen thus very often. If I need to speak with you, I will send you a message."

  "Alright. Have a good night, Dolanna."

  "You too, dear one."

  After dinner, Dar and Tarrin sat in the room. Dar was at the desk, writing a series of numbers exercises on a piece of paper, and Tarrin was reading a book he took from the library, a book studying the condition the author called Lycanthropy, which was another name for the condition of the assorted Were-kin. The book named several different species, such as Were-wolves, Were-bears, Were-dogs, Were-boars, Were-rats, and Were-tigers. It also talked about some of the lesser known strains, such as Were-foxes, Were-lions, Were-wolverines, Were-bats, and his own kind, the Were-cats. The book touched on the society of Fae-da'Nar, saying that the Were-kin existed in a very loose association so that there was very little infighting between them. It didn't mention anything about other woodland beings being in it the way Jesmind said they were.

  Tarrin hadn't really thought all that much about other Were-creatures, or any other creatures for that matter. He was born human, and though he no longer was, he was more human than anything else. His upbringing made him thus, and while the Cat could alter that, it could not replace it. In the short days since meeting Jesmind, a peace had fallen over him. He had almost no trouble with the Cat, although he could feel it there. It was almost like the Human and the Cat in him had struck a bargain to work together. Tarrin felt that the Human had to give up a few things, which accounted for the Jesmind-like attitudes and mannerisms that had come over him lately. But that was a small price to pay for the peace under his ears. Tarrin did not embrace what he was, but he had accepted it. And he knew that that was an important step.

  It was all so strange. When he'd left Aldreth, never in his wildest dreams did he think that he would have ended up the way he did. It was almost like the Favor of the Lady had turned black on him. But in another way, he had to admit that being what he was had saved his life. That Wyvern
may have killed him had he not been Were, and capable of the inhuman speed and coordination he'd used to sheathe its poisoned tail. And make the jump to shore, then make the jump that got him out of reach of the Trolls. It was better to live changed than not to live at all.

  Rather shamedly, he realized that he hadn't written a letter to his parents. Though they knew of his change, he still thought it was only decent to write to them himself. Best to let them know he was well and whole.

  It wasn't easy to write with his huge paws, but he managed to pinch the quill pen between two fingers, and proceeded to write. He wrote simply, honestly, the way he talked to them. He told them about his change, and disclosed much of the journey down in simple, straightforward words. Then he described what it was like as best he could, since it was so very hard to try to explain sensations that a human had never experience.

  While he was writing his farewells, the door opened after a single sharp knock. Elsa stood in the doorway, wearing her tunic and breeches, her blond hair damp from the bathing pool. "Tarrin, a word with you," she said in the Ungaardt tongue.

  "Yes Mistress?" he asked in kind.

  "You'll be presented to the Keeper in the Hall tomorrow before breakfast," she said. "It's a simple ceremony that inducts you into the Novitiate. After that, you'll go to your first class. Someone there will guide you."

  "Alright, Mistress Elsa," he said.

  "Oh, there's a Selani in the Tower," she said. "You'll be in class with her. She doesn't seem to like humans, so we'd like you to show her around after class."

  "I can do that, Mistress," he replied.

  "Alright. Have a good night."

  "You to, Mistress," he replied, and she closed the door.

  "What language was that?" Dar asked.

  "Ungaardt," he replied.

  "It's like a broken lute," he said sourly.

  "I didn't invent it," Tarrin shrugged.

  "I should teach you a civilized language," Dar told him. "Arakite."

  "I know Arakite," Tarrin told him calmly.

  "You do?" he said, looking at him strangely.

  "My father speaks it. He learned it when he was in the army. He taught it to me."